There’s that thought process that goes:
Fuck garage pop! I’ve had my fill. I’ve seen the willy-mics and the inter-generational greasy hair enough times that I don’t need to jump around at the front of every show in that vest I cut myself with a kitchen knife, adding my own Beach Boys backing vocals and wantonly belly-slamming the lead singer with every off-the-mark snare roll. In the morning, I don’t need that particular genre of tinnitus that comes like a distant, rolling thunderclap followed by a quick, piercing, flash of high hertz dolphin song. There are genres of tinnitus, right?
Then there’s this.
And my school-kid Spanish kicks in.
Though whether it would get me through a night with Los Blenders in Mexico City is debatable.
And the clouds start some foreplay with the sun.
And I realize I’m lying to myself, and this is great.
My favorite Spanish word?
Trabajaba. He used to work.
And this still does.
• Los Blenders: http://losblenders.bandcamp.com
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