Burning

Ah, another three weeks have slipped by with nary a word from my end. Way to go, slackass. Wading through the end of another hot, short weekend in New York. Doubts everywhere. Feeling at once more turned on by, and overwhelmed by, music than I have in a while. Good records arriving in the mail and peeking at me from shop shelves every day, and yet struggling to find the time (motivation) to put any into words. Realizing that if I was quizzed, Invisible Jukebox-style, on the contents of my shelves, I wouldn't be able to identify half of them with more than an, "Oh yeah, I have that at home. Good disc."
Spent last weekend in Burlington with the girl. Got to visit with good friends, spend time with her family, breathe clean air. It was a tremendous time, but I'm struggling a bit now. Nostalgia snuck into the soft spot of my armor and is spreading like soft mold. Maybe my big city transformation hasn't been as soul cleansing as I am so easy to claim. Have I accomplished much aside from not needing to tremble with raw nerves as I wait to see if my debit card cleared?
Saw Comets on Fire and Growing at Bowery Ballroom recently. Comets were great. Ethan Miller up on stage like a shit-drunk Clapton, pink shirt soaked through, sweat flying from his head in a halo of sticky stink. Growing, who I quite admire on record, disappointed. The subtleties of their discs were lost, with the final result sounding a bit too much like two stoners fucking around with a rack of pedals; slo-mo riffing with no point. The usually stellar Bowery sound was off all night, though. We'll blame it on that.
Going to go try to make my way through some of the new sounds. Hopefully I'll have something to say 'bout 'em...