I had never listened to Kraftwerk until this past weekend, when I found myself driving around rural Iowa for uninteresting reasons that resulted in an antique bed for Eleanor, who is mighty, though wee. The album? Computer World. (And, you know, a few days earlier, my man Richard dropped by - Richard, Chicano americano don't fuck wit' 'im arhat of the narrative arc, no bullshit. He said, "Man, that feedback on my novel in that letter you wrote me is the only thing that makes any sense to me," and I said "Cool. Wait. What did I write?" and he said "Fuck you," but understood a man's attention so we chilled and he told a cuento that put Mickey Spillane to spinning & my neighbor lady to peering down from her kitchen window at the loudmouths getting drunk on each other's storytime.) And this music is just about perfect for cornfields cornfields cornfields billboard cornfields cornfields cornfields...Finally, Kraftwerk's mitered to its most perfect landscape...and I had no idea Richard & I would connect in such a way, but any artist reading this will understand the power of unforced, easy, natural collaboration: It's like finding someone who's from the same planet you are and flashing cosmic gang signs all along the Yuga.
No comments:
Post a Comment