This Evening: Oh I’m Still Living At The Old Address
>>> I have a seven-inch record of “In The New Year” by The Walkmen that I picked up about six months ago. Lately, when no one is around, I turn it up until the turntable almost feeds back in the speakers, pace the room, and wait for hope to arrive. I shit you not: It does, every damned time. Even when it ought not to. Sometimes, when it’s over, I pick up the needle and go for it all over again. Sometimes, by the end of this, I have consumed two beers in just the time it took to run through the record twice. I never flip it over. I never do it when anyone else is around. And up until now, I’ve never discussed this before. It’s just something I do.
>>> Elsewhere: Bouffant Bangout at the Barbary, where 50s wail and 60s howl give a soccer-hooligan head-butt to the Sparks generation (can somebody send us a mixtape for this night already???); The Phil E Street Band pays tribute to Brooce and Born To Run — such an underrated record, really — at World Cafe Live; or, get the scoop on Sarah Stolfa’s The Regulars at a book signing and talk at the Pen & Pencil.
