Thursday, October 19, 2017

A small room inside a bay window. A single bed, a table and chair, and a sink. I could manage something larger, with more conveniences, but I could never match the view.

I awake for the second day in a row to music from the tenant next door. Only this time it is "live" music -- a friend of the tenant singing sweetly a song that sounds familiar but one I can't place.

It is not the singing that keeps me awake, but the guessing.

Then it dawns on me. Could it be those guitar paddling voyageurs of small town Ontario? Whose broken-branch lyricism is to rural wonder what white cube cynicism is to Talking Heads urbanity? Whose collected songs are to male bi-curiousity what the Smith's are to morning-after melancholy? A band that has generated few comparisons -- not because they are incomparable, but because there is so little left to say about contemporary rock music, only around it?

On that note, isn't this is a pretty song?

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