Right? Anyway, one thing I used to do “a lot” of is record beloved records track for track on Apple’s iLife’s Garageband. This was a way to not write that taxidermy book I was supposed to be writing. I did, um…well before the book I did Smog’s Wild Love and then I did Bee Thousand and then I did Camper Van Beethoven’s Key Lime Pie and then I started working for a living and that was sort of over. Plus I couldn’t think of another record to do. I was this close to doing Palace’s Arise, Therefore but who wants to listen to this froggy voice aim too stalwartly at replicating Oldham’s warbles?
At any rate, I found myself trolling through Key Lame Pie recently (that’s the naming convention: self-disparagement) and heard this, and I got really, really proud.
It may only work for fans of the record, but the song, in the original, is played on like a Sears organ and is hard to follow or discern. Why I’m proud of it is that I couldn’t begin to play it right now. But months ago I took some time and figured it out, note for note. And so this is what eight years of playing the clarinet and a whole year of AP music theory gets you: a way to just make a song work only by hearing it.
They have those dumb bumper stickers. A mess of some piano score. Mendelsohn or something. Baroquer probably. And then the caption: “If you can read this, thank a music teacher.” But I can read that. And I thank my music teachers. Except you: Richard Bergman. You made me too often feel like an asshole.
One thought on “Some Confessions Are Tinged with Vanity”
Looking forward to hearing what will probably be the only cover of the song with the greatest title ever: “You have *** in your hair and your **** is hanging out”. I can’t even bring myself to type it. What a prude…