Sunday, February 19, 2006

Dark side of the moon...

Robin Trower

Lawrence Welk

So,'s question is: What do Robin Trower and Lawrence Welk have in common?

Answer: Absolutely nothing.

In my world, however, they represent a true Dark Side of the Moon/Wizard of Oz moment.

Last night, I was working on my novel. Okay, I wasn't writing in my journal or sitting at the computer, I was basically writing in my head. Every author has their own way of doing things, and I've never been one for outlines or anything structured at all, really. I'm jealous of people so organized, but it just doesn't work that way for me. I daydream and get an idea for a story, let my mind wander and flesh out the characters, and by the time I sit down and write, I've got it all pretty much figured out. And because I'm a music nut, while I'm doing this "head writing", I always have something inspiring on in the background, which really helps my thought process further.

I was in a Robin Trower mood last night, bigtime. Quick music history lesson: Trower was the original guitarist for Procol Harum. (Meanwhile, I cannot believe how cheesy Procol Harum's website is...what's up with that?) If you want to hear some really interesting stuff, check out their early albums with Trower on guitar. Of course, A Salty Dog is a fucking classic, but listen to the Broken Barricades CD, particularly the cut Song for a Dreamer...and I dunno, maybe it's just me, but his guitar playing makes my soul rise and it bothers me that he's never mentioned in the Guitar Gods discussions/articles I come across.

Trower left Procol Harum and went solo. He's amazing, though I guess, yeah, I know, it's stoner music -- very spacey -- I can't listen to it without smelling pot smoke in the basement -- but anyway, that's what I was listening to last night and at the same time, I had the television on with the sound off. It was the PBS channel, and on Saturday nights, they broadcast reruns of the old Lawrence Welk show. Terrible, terrible stuff. Accordian players, tap dancers, and gruesome late sixties-early seventies hair and fashion horrors. You can tell that blow dryers were new on the scene - the men are wearing their hair like Peter Noone of Herman's Hermits...poufy and cut over their ears...and the women all look like they're part of some weird Florence Henderson/Mary Tyler Moore cult in pastel mini-dresses and glazed over eyes which give out those "I HAVE BEEN SAVED!" vibes.

Just as Trower launches into this totally psychedelic guitar solo, I look at the t.v. and there's a whole choir of Welk people, men dressed in pink tuxedos with pink ruffly shirts and the aforesaid poufy hair. And they're singing and swaying in perfect synchronicity to the Trower solo with the aforesaid glazed over eyes. Trower starts shredding and out comes the accordian player, and he's really into it, he's shaking his heiney with that thing and tossing his helmet hair and I start giggling because he's wiggling that butt in perfect time with Trower, too, and then, the tap dancer comes out and I swear to god, that's when Trower's drummer went into a solo.

Total Dark Side of the Moon/Wizard of Oz moment. If you don't know what I mean, look it up. Oh hell, here's a link for you.

So after I stopped laughing, I shut off the television, continued listening to Trower, and actually thought out a couple more chapters which I'm busy typing up now. Okay, so I'm taking a break to write this, but I'm going back to my novel in a minute.

Give Trower a listen if you're not already hip to him, okay?

In other news, I just learned that my publisher has sent Three Days in New York City, Leigh Ellwood's Truth or Dare and Devi Sparks' Fairy Godlover to the acquisitions department at Borders Books for consideration. Three Days in NYC is available at some brick and mortar stores, but not Borders, and it would be great if this happens, especially with the sequel coming out. So that's pretty cool.

And I got an invitation to join something called Philly Writers. So I did.

Finally, the moment you are all waiting for -- today's twisted Neil Gaiman fact: He wears black long underwear. Says so in his journal post of February 18. Thanks for sharing, Neil.

I mean that sincerely.