I was heartbroken to discover that Scrap’s daughter Larry hates Kelly Clarkson. Scrap assures me that it’s an affectation she picked up from fellow middle-schoolers, but nonetheless.
I’m smitten with a couple of her new tunes: “Maybe” and “Never Again.” She’s righteously angry, she gives me chills. She makes Alanis seem mildly disgruntled.
Other than that, as I trudge around Brooklyn–trudge, trudge, trudge–I’m listening mostly to classic rock. Black Sabbath, Led Zeppelin, Foreigner, Steve Miller, Rush’s Moving Pictures.
And yet the music I’ve been working on sounds like rinkytink techno circa 1990.
It’s been really luxurious, working on music with an album nearly done, thus not having to think much about how any given piece fits into the overall, or will sound on the radio. I can work on whatever, and it’s cool to have a bunch of incomplete ideas laying around, to be picked up and messed around with if I feel like it.