Interpol - Pioneer to the Falls
This is my favorite song for the moment.
As so often happens with me, the bits of the song with which I am besotted occur in the last minute in the form of the soaring arid western swagger of crystalline bendy guitars. Wonky calliope peeks in now and again, and the singer's nervy baritone affects me muchly. Martial snare drum syncopation propels with locomotive energy that is so compelling and gives the music such a sense of urgency. Like the lyrics, too-- a little more elevating than Interpol's usual fare, IMHO, and if I were betting, I'd say it's something of a valentine.
Saturday I went to observe a shooting match with Holly, and afterward we went to lunch at Babe's. We and the handsome couple at the next table laughed as the waitresses came out and humiliated a birthday celebrant at another table by making them wear a chicken hat and stand up and flap their arms as they sang a chicken birthday song. I leaned over to the next table and said "It's one of y'all's birthday, right?" in jest, and he said "yeah, it's my birthday." Well, I thought he was pulling my leg, but Holly ratted him out to the waitress, and they ended up doing the whole fanfare for Randy at the next table. It was a hoot. Turns out, it really WAS Randy's birthday. I think he enjoyed the attention. At least, I hope he did.
We went to the Crate & Barrel outlet in Dallas and Hols got some Christmas shopping done--she's a MACHINE! SRSLY. Our Holly was then eager to experience Lee Harvey's, which was my local when I lived in the 'hood, so we went and hung out with a Shiner and a Stella Artois in our respective paws, and we talked and laughed and cut up in general. Holly managed to shock the barmaid -no mean feat, I'd wager. Holly enjoyed looking at LH's extensive collection of Baraphernalia, much of it in situ since previous inbarnations at the site such as Moose's Baby. Yeah, it's a super-cool, oober-hip hangout, but Holly and me? Well, that's just how we roll.
The juke box there is glorious, to say the least, and then a song by Interpol came on and I started thinking about the love/hate thing I've had going on with that band for a while. I ADORE their song Evil, but find the video unsettling, and the lyrics somewhat mystifying. OF course, I'm not one to let bewilderment get in the way of a good time. It's just the Nanny Ogg in me.
Tomorrow I'm shooting with Holly and another badass woman shooter in a steel plate match. I can't believe they'll have me on their team, but who am I to argue with their superior wisdom? It should be fun. Even though H&C are really good at shooting, I'm not feeling nervous about it. I'm a total n00b, so no pressure, right? S'long as everyone has fairly low expectations, I should do alright!