2005-01-30 - 10:17 a.m. Listening to an old favorite, Cardinal Woolsey's Paralyzed with Happiness, makes me wonder, where does old music go? If an album doesn't become a classic, and is relegated to obscurity, how long does it take before it no longer actually exists in the collective consciousness? How long before its power fades and I no longer compare it to whatever else is happening in music right now? How long before I drop it from the list of albums I proffer on Friendster as short hand for who I am? It's only an accident that I even put it on--I was cleaning up and found it in a box. But this is such a strong collection of songs, rendered masterfully and with great style. And, personally, it encapsulates 1996 and my musical sensibilities of that time. I guess the music that nourished me in 1996 still exists in my cells somewhere, like all the other music and books and films and love and wisdom and trauma that went into the making of this particular human. Reading And Now You Can Go by Vendela Vida, one of the editors of The Believer (and, yeah, Dave Eggers' wife). I'm happy to report that it has no McSweeneys damage, there is nothing self-conscious or precious about it, it's just an ol' fashioned, first-person novel with a simple plot. It reads like a YA novel for adults, and I don't mean that derogatorily. I mean it reminds me of the days that I used to just read novels for simple companionship, not necessarily to be dazzled. Enough with the faint praise, it's a good bit of New York realism, about a Columbia grad student who is almost killed in a random act of street violence. The rest of the novel follows her through her recovery. Good stuff. thoughts? (6 comments so far) previous - next blog archive contact