I think he's probably right. The box is far too heavily skewed towards hardcore fans. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone who has fewer than 5 or 6 of his albums.
Mal ,'Bushwhacked'
Buffista Music III: The Search for Bach
There's a lady plays her fav'rite records/On the jukebox ev'ry day/All day long she plays the same old songs/And she believes the things that they say/She sings along with all the saddest songs/And she believes the stories are real/She lets the music dictate the way that she feels.
I just got kicked out of the band I was going to play SXSW with this year. Over the phone. Less than a week before the gig. After putting quite a bit of work into learning that guy's songs exactly the way he wanted me to play them. If he'd let me quit 3 weeks ago when I offered to do so, I might have a positive opinion of the guy. But he didn't and I don't.
The lesson is: if you can't make up your mind before the last minute, you're kind of an asshole.
Jesus, Corwood, that sucks.
I'm pissed now, but it will pass. What a shitty band leader, though!
This might sound like sour grapes, but my wife would confirm that I really don't care much for his songs, which are all bland power-pop (and, seriously, his lyrics dropped into the worst possible category occasionally: "I hear stories of destruction and rumors of war/ every day is crazier than the day before." Really? Are destruction and war bad for children and other living things, too?). I was mainly playing in the band as a favor to a mutual friend, and planning to quit after this weekend. Which is the salient point: I was waiting until AFTER the big gig and LONG BEFORE the next show in late April to quit, because a) I have some fucking sense of propriety and b) I wanted to play SXSW, dammit.
That sucks!
That is indeed of the suck. And now you don't get a free wristband either, eh?
Nope, I get nothing. Except bitterness. Made worse by the fact that I felt like I was slumming in that band in the first place. Now I feel like the pale shadow of Robert Quine dismissed by the pale shadow of Matthew Sweet.
Egad, Corwood.
Dear Corwood,
You are the rockingest. That guy sucks doggy doo.
LOVE, me (with lurkers support me in email approval by everyone who counts).
Thank you, everyone. That includes the lurkers.
You are the rockingest. That guy sucks doggy doo.
Until I read them, I had no idea that these would be the words I have been longing to hear. Now, of course, I know this and revel in them. Thank you.