Elvis-Fresh Meat and Double Nickels on the Dime

Sometimes I wonder how I end up in these places. I try to draw maps and blueprints of week-births and week-deaths. Picking up all the loose threads and trying desperately to weave all the moments back together into my life quilt that has blanketed me since September 11, 1978. Don't you ever do the same? Don't you ever dream of the intentions of the universe? The way you have felt nestled in its curves? How they have curled around your contours? How they have pulled you back and catapulted you to your now? Maybe it is a side effect of living like a gypsy.

Maybe I am of a few who are constantly sewing.

I have been wandering paths unknown this last month; trying to commit the smells of my new city and neighborhood to memory; so when I am blinded by emotion/tiredness/love/inebriation, I can sniff out my way home. While I am doing this I subconsciously start to assign songs to my homes/haunts on a regular basis. Each hour has its own hymn. Its own beat. They pump blood into the veins of my time spent here; circulating the minutes all around until they have spun an immaculate, but ever-changing, soundtrack, and all I have to do is push play and go with it.

So even with all this Texas, Elvis-fresh meat; sublime weather; lovely new friends and being far away from New England, and the red-stained echos of Paul Revere, I find myself face-to-face with 'The Minuteman.'

Nah, not men in red coats. But yes, the name does evoke images of home regardless of the fact that these guys are from San Pedro, California.

I am talking about pulling the soundtrack for my day from the awesome sound files of The Minutemen. The ones with the arresting tuneage they poured all over the country in 1984. Oh yes. Yes. Yes. I've got a time machine and the sun. I have got my porch and I've got Double Nickels on the Dime, baby. And oh, do I like to share.

Like Austin ( my new city ) Double Nickels... is full of crossbreeding, innovation and progression. It is an enduring piece of music and a staple of the underground rock scene. The album took Minutemen's signature hardcore and punk and stuck it in a screaming, quick-mix blender with a little funk, soul, country and jazz. (a very appropriate soundtrack for my current state: metaphorically and literally)

The end result is a double tray full of hot shots of liquid funky musical awesomeness. Procurred by the men themselves and contributers Henry Rollins, Chuck Dukowski and more.

This album is the funk.

You want the funk? Well, I poured a few cups for you to enjoy. I find it is best ingested in the afternoon; As a side for the toasty Subway sandwich you are about to devour during lunchtime. Like the one I just did.


Corona :

It's Expected I'm Gone :

The Roar of the Masses Could Be Farts :

My Heart and the Real World :