We live in a world where The Kills are this epoch’s Terry and June. Where I’d swear that the postman is Sonic Boom (brandishing highly authentic Glasgae patter, too). Where I’m guessing that we’re all busy being stalked by random allusions to popular music; it’s only when you’re beyond a certain point that every mundane and docile happening is automatically cross-referenced against some Teenage Fanclub b-side from before Bandwagonesque got big.
On the train, and beneath the picture depicting a demon disembowelling one of the Beverley Sisters, the Scary Mary’s t-shirt enquired: Ready For Battle? A positively lovely chap with zero neck he was, complete with an unwavering expression that suggested a regular battle with the voices that scream FFUUUUCCCKKKK inside his head, day and night. I glanced up at him from my retro Kindle (so cool it’s made from a sheaf of bound, printed paper; individual pages that you have to turn in order to access the next bit) and almost, almost asked him if he too found “Atlas” to be a track that comes into its own around 1:30 in the morning after a very precise amount of your favourite liquor had been consumed. Alas, I held off. I suspect he wouldn’t have understood. I’m guessing that we wouldn’t have been referencing the same sort of battle.
Battles / Atlas
Incidentally, a big hello to the chap (I’m guessing he’s a chap) who after yesterday’s post, arrived here by typing in “Naked Cheerleader” into his Google machine. I trust that you’re not disappointed.
Photo: Verbs and Nouns