O, joy! It’s Friday!
That means, of course, that it’s time for another installment of the Friday Random Ten, the list of musical selections puked up at random by the iPod d’Elisson.
This has been a week of contrasts. I just got back from a two-day trip to balmy south Florida, and now we Atlantans are girding our collective loins for a skirmish with Old Man Winter, who is expected to dump up to three inches of snow upon us.
I guess it would be ridiculous to complain. After all, the folks in our Nation’s Capital have had to deal with something on the order of fifty-three inches of snow, thanks to two back-to-back blizzards in less than five days. The first one alone was enough to set new snowfall records; the second was an exercise in lily-gilding. Snowpocalypse? Snowmageddon? Pick your euphemism.
Meanwhile, as I await the arrival of the first flakes, there’s music to listen to. What’s playing today?
That means, of course, that it’s time for another installment of the Friday Random Ten, the list of musical selections puked up at random by the iPod d’Elisson.
This has been a week of contrasts. I just got back from a two-day trip to balmy south Florida, and now we Atlantans are girding our collective loins for a skirmish with Old Man Winter, who is expected to dump up to three inches of snow upon us.
I guess it would be ridiculous to complain. After all, the folks in our Nation’s Capital have had to deal with something on the order of fifty-three inches of snow, thanks to two back-to-back blizzards in less than five days. The first one alone was enough to set new snowfall records; the second was an exercise in lily-gilding. Snowpocalypse? Snowmageddon? Pick your euphemism.
Meanwhile, as I await the arrival of the first flakes, there’s music to listen to. What’s playing today?
- Jump Up - Elvis Costello
Everybody’s talking like they can’t sit down
And looking like they can’t stand up
It must be the lastest style
And they’ve seen a lot of things that you never see
Back on the mile up to the hanging tree
Some people can’t keep their fingers clean
Just clicking their heels to the beat of the scene
Trying to keep careen until the first edition of last night’s obituaries
Jump up - hold on tight
Can’t trust the promise or a guarantee
’Cause the man ’round the curve says that he’s never heard
Of you or me
No tombstone would ever surprise me
When I’m locked in a room about half the size of a matchbox
Got holes in my socks
They match the ones that I got in my feet
I put my feet in the holes in the street and somebody paved me over
I was a statue standing on the corner
Tell me, how else can a boy get to see those pretty pleats?
Candidate talkin’ on the radio from the “Cheater’s Jamboree”
It must be their lastest fool
’Cause it’s a two-horse race and he changed his bets
Like it was just another brand of cigarettes
Some people judge and they just guess the rest
They can’t understand that don’t mean that you’re blessed
They ought to catch the Express Next Stop Nowhere
That way you can forget
Jump up - hold on tight
Can’t trust the promise or a guarantee
’Cause the man ’round the curve says that he’s never heard
Of you or me - Back in the U.S.S.R. - The Beatles
- Courage, the Cowardly Dog - They Might Be Giants
- Tank Graveyard - Paul Cantelon, Everything is Illuminated
- Exaltation - Matisyahu
- Fixing a Hole - The Beatles
- Heavenly Bank Account - A Tribute Band for FZ
- Act III: The Maos Dance - John Adams, Nixon in China
- Luck Be A Lady - Skanatra
- The Laughing Song - Dan Hicks & His Hot Licks
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