With prompting from (and dedicated to) the Godfather of Canadian podcasting, @scarboroughdude of the Dicks'n'Janes podcast, I attempt to put my love for a musical group into words that will extend beyond copious clapping and the obligatory "WOOOOOOO!!!!"
Part Three of a consideration on re-consumption of content through the medium of playlists.
I'll make no bones about this one. A few reasons why popular music sucks so hard.
Driving back from a Podcaster Live Night in Toronto, where I happened to be lucky enough to have dinner with an old friend, and an after dinner coffee with another, I decided to celebrate the quarter-millennial episode of the podcast by recording it whilst driving home. I would, as a general rule, say don't podcast and drive - you might spill your podcast.
NOTE: I mistakenly took out some of my wrath on the Canadian Radio and Telecommunications Commission (CRTC) when it should have been directed at the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council (CBSC) for implementing rules that effectively have censored Money for Nothing by Dire Straits from all radio stations that are part of the group.
"See the little faggot with the earring and the makeup,
Yeah buddy that's his own hair.
That little faggot got his own jet airplane.
That little faggot he's a millionaire."
- Mark Knopfler
A podcast that's quite a bit different from normal, and not one I'm completely comfortable with. That said, this should be a place where I can take creative risks and let the chips fall where they may.
Celebrated Summer (Bob Mould)
Love and hate was in the air, like pollen from a flower.
Somewhere in April time, they add another hour.
I guess I'd better think up a way to spend the time.
Just when I'm ready to sit inside, it's summertime.
Should I go fishing or get a friend to hang around?
It's back to summer, back to basics, hang around.
Getting drunk out on the beach, or playing in a band,
And getting out of school meant getting out of hand.
Was this your celebrated summer? Was this your celebrated summer?
When the sun disintegrates between a wall of clouds.
A summer where I winter at, and no one is allowed there.
Do you remember when the first snowfall fell?
When summer barely had a snowball's chance in hell?
Was that your celebrated summer? Was that your celebrated summer?
When the sun disintegrates between a wall of clouds.
Was that your celebrated summer?
