Aimee Mann at Stern Grove. Laundry. A good, long talk on Skype with an old friend. A little budgeting here, a little vlogging there and a wiggle when you walk and a giggle when you talk.
[…] Recorded live at Abbey Road Studios, the strings
on Scale are the most sumptuous musical elements to ever appear on a
Herbert record. Wags have already said they're more Lawrence Welk than
Nelson Riddle. True, there is something corny about them, but the corniness works:
Disco was full of records that equated opulence and upward mobility with the
in-house orchestras of 1940s Hollywood. In the race to link disco to house
and techno and beyond, people forget that there was always a brassy,
Broadway vibe to the best disco. After all, it was a short walk downtown from Guys
and Dolls to Kid Creole and the Coconuts. […]
The reviewer nails it.
I haven't stopped smiling today since I saw a fax mentioning an early-August concert date at the shed up the hill from where I sit. Scheduled performers? K.C. and the Sunshine Band, Gloria Gaynor, Tavares and Sister Sledge.
Talk about "lost in music."
I'm in bed. The covers are pulled up to the middle of my back. I feel like they ought to be up to my neck, or possibly over my head.
Right now, working out at the gym is intermittently fun. That's because I don't know what I'm doing with most machines. It's also because I usually go when floor traffic is high and my energy isn't. The real issue is that I don't know what I want. Bulging upper body full of muscles? Aerobic bodily goodness via treadmills and mats and the two-and-a-half mile walk from our apartment there and back? A good start. But is that all there is? Of course not. So let's keep dancing.