Ordinary language is all right.
One could divide humanity into two classes:
those who master a metaphor, and those who hold by a formula.
Those with a bent for both are too few, they do not comprise a class.
Note to future self: write extended meditation on "Blame it on the Sun".
Five things I will play for my kids when they are little if I have kids:
Wait screw the list that's all I'm going to play them.
Last night in a Chipotle I heard Senor Coconut's latin cover of Kraftwerk's "Showroom Dummies". This unnerved me a little because Chipotle is owned by McDonald's, even though it'd be hard to tell from the restaurant itself - I assume that they use piped-in music, and it's usually a strange mix of rootsy music and dancy pop, some of it in Spanish, but which I hardly ever recognize. Somehow Senor Coconut's sounding "latin" got them slipped into the programming bin, I guess.
Have I written this before? I must have. But it bears repeating. Loads and loads of the guitar noises on Sonic Youth's Dirty sound like the most exciting parts of any noisy old solo from some other band, the parts that represent the furthest reaches of the freakout. Only Sonic Youth strings them out one after another, or makes a whole song out of them, or just repeats one of them over and over like a kid with a shiny new toy.
Ha, check that, "stupid French-Canadian girl". I don't suppose that counts as some kind of language barrier just like she of the three tongues and the golden hair?
Anyway I decided "harpy" isn't the right word. I need to find another mythological figure with a strange voice.
Wilco's rhythm section is so white.