Sometimes it's interesting to think about how music flows through my day. Usually there's so much going on, so many details to tie up, that there's not much time left for reflection. But even when things are bordering on chaotic, I almost always have music playing...or I'm thinking about upcoming selections.

Now, none of this is earth-shattering stuff. Heck, the only close to earth-shattering thing I've ever posted on my blog was the item about Elvis Costello and Diana Krall...which is still a little shocking. What interests me here is how the thread of just plain living pushes music toward me....

I woke up this morning...and did not listen to a blues record. Instead it was Pat Metheny's New Chautauqua. On most Sunday mornings I'll get a cup of coffee and read the Editorials and Arts sections of the paper while listening to New Chautauqua. It's as close to a ritual as I ever get.

Just before taking a shower the masochist part of me forced a quick check of the setlist at last night's Springsteen show at Fenway Park. For reasons not worth going into, I failed to get tickets to either of these two events. So do I want to know what happened at that first show? Yes and no. Well, Mr. Masochist discovers that they opened with "Take Me Out To The Ballgame". Nuts. Then "Rosalita" has reappeared near the end of the set. Double nuts.

We go out to a late breakfast at our local pseudo-50's diner (I don't think you can legally be served "brunch" at a diner, can you?) followed by a drive down to Cambridge to take Stepson-The-Elder back to college. On the way back we listen to The Wind. It's been getting a daily spin. "Knockin' On Heaven's Door" still gets to me.

A stop at Barnes & Noble on the way back....somehow a copy of Arcana: Musicians on Music finds its way into my hands. The first essay I read is a total winner: Marc Ribot on the nature of distortion and feedback.

Later in the day I read Howard Owen's posting about the pleasures of vinyl...which reminds me that our own Mr. Olsen said I needed to give Saturday Night Fever a chance. I've got a nice LP copy so what the hey. It didn't make me long for my leisure suit (ok...never actually owned one) or anything but it was kinda fun. One thing I noticed was that even though disco was built on repetition, the actual execution of the music was so much more organic than much of today's ProTools-tweaked stuff.

Spoke to an old friend on the phone for a while. We talked about his soon-to-be-dadness, land in rural Maine, possible college majors for Stepson-The-Younger, neutrinos, books, history, and wireless routers. Eno's Ambient 1: Music For Airports played during the call. While you can sit up and pay close attention to that music, you certainly don't have to. I don't use much music as 'background', but this particular piece of music works.

Now late in the evening I listen to Dylan's The Times They Are A-Changin' only because it happened to be near the top of a pile I was sifting through. Gees, that guy wrote some freakin' great lyrics.

Just about time to turn in. Gavin Bryars' The Sinking Of The Titanic has help me though the latter half of this essay.

(First posted on Mark Is Cranky)
(Also available on Stereo Cassette and 8 Track Tape)