No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn
I'd like to take this opportunity to congratulate my old college roommate and friend Peter Lorge. He wrote a book due to hit store shelves in November. Chinese Warfare 900-1795: Empire Without Nation is available for pre-order at Amazon (be sure to reserve your copy!). He now joins the rarefied ranks of friends with published work, including John McCannon (Red Arctic) and Eric Marin (editor of Lone Star Stories and flash fiction writer extraordiniare). Someday I hope to join that list.
Another reason to hate Windows: a recent update of the XP OS conflicted with the software that manages my wireless connection. It took me a long time and many calls to my cable provider to figure that out. Eventually, I had to uninstall my old software and figure out how to get Windows to do the job instead. What a pain in the patootie.
After my posted my top ten list the other day, I pondered over a much longer list of albums that didn't make the cut. The process of determining what made that list and what didn't was difficult but I stand by my choices. Nevertheless, there are many albums that deserve mention. So I thought I'd list a few more, in no particular order:
Kate Bush: Hounds of Love and The Sensual World
Suzanne Vega: 99.9 F and Solitude Standing
Billie Holiday: Songs for Distingue Lovers and Lady in Satin
Bill Evans: Trio '64 and Trio '65
Oscar Peterson: Night Train
Simon Rattle/Birmingham Symphony: Adam's The Chairman Dances and Adam's Short Ride in a Fast Machine
Gergiev/Kirov Symphony: Stravinsky's The Firebird
Talking Heads: Songs About Buildings and Food and Speaking in Tongues
Oingo Boingo: Only A Lad and Nothing To Fear
Getz and Gilberto: Getz/Gilberto
Lunasa: Otherworld
October Project: October Project and Falling Farther In
That ought to keep you occupied for a while!
2 Comments:
And just where is Wall of Voodoo, hm?
What, no Flock of Seagulls? And you call yourself a music connoisseur!
It's true. I call myself a music connoisseur but I am really just a third-rate hack. My ears are not worthy to take in such sublime noise as "And I Ran", nor is my brain subtle enough to appreciate the poetry that is "Mexican Radio". It is too sad that I live in this colorless world devoid of '80s New Wave.
Sigh.
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