Outta My System by My Morning Jacket – I don’t have much to say this week. There are two or three half finished posts through which I’m currently plodding. So (unlike the well structured and cogent writing you’ve come to expect) this is just me free-wheeling. MMJ was one of the very few albums this year (unlike last year which had a shit-ton) whose release I really anticipated (N.B. I’ll guess we’ll see at the end of the year whether my search for ten great albums after sifting though a lot of them results in a more honest Albums of the Year hierarchy. This is opposed to last year, were I had a pretty good idea what albums I would really enjoy last year and simply “ranked them” at years end).
For a bunch of odd-ball Kentucky weirdos who are (from what I’ve read) much more renown for their live shows, (words like “epic” and being able to “recalibrate your gut“are used. (N.B. I don’t know what “recalibrate your gut” means in any kind of real context. I’m sure hipster music critics hear it as a descriptor and nod their heads knowingly thinking back to some singular point in their lives when they heard a marginally noteworthy band perform a musical feat of such visceral gusto that they were forced to take pen to paper and create an apt metaphor for their “reaction.”) I don’t know if I’ve ever had one of these.) the album, Circuital, is a good listen. Parts of it are really good. Parts of it drag a bit. So far this is my favorite track mainly because I get giggly every time I hear the phrase “smoke drugs” or “smoke some drugs.” I’m not sure why.
James has ways of singing phrases that if I were to say them to you in casual conversation they would sound really corny, but he is able to make them sound sincere. E.g. If you don’t live now you ain’t even tryin’ / then you’re on your way to mid-life crisis. Can you imagine me saying this to you?
You: “I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately, you know, ’bout what I’m doing.”
Me: “Buddy, can we have some drinks before we start in on this?”
You: “I mean I just don’t want my life to pass me by. I don’t feel like I’m doing anything.”
Me: “Jameson and ice, please.”
You: “What if I wake up one morning and it’s over? Youth is behind me.”
Me: “…and some peanuts.”
You: “I feel like I have so much in me still, so much to wring out.”
Me: (gulping mouth flecked with peanut crumbs) “If you don’t live now, you ain’t even tryin’. You’re prolly on your way to a mid-life crisis.”
Me: “You wanna get some hot wings or something.”