Last week, Feller and I went down to Santa Cruz for a Roger Clyne and the Peacemakers concert. I’ve written a bit before about how much I love seeing my favorites in concert, and this was no exception. RCPM is up there in my top three favorite bands, and I haven’t had a chance to see them perform in years. Roger Clyne consistently gives great, energetic performances, and I always leave the show feeling revved up and revitalized. Feller has started coming with me when there are shows I want to see, and it’s fun to share the music I love with him.
I haven’t listened to RCPM on a regular basis for a few years; I didn’t love two of their recent albums and haven’t even listened to their newest, but this concert took me right back to being 22 on a beach in Mexico hearing them live for the first time. My buddy and I drove down to Rocky Point on a whim, after seeing Cross Canadian Ragweed in Tucson, who announced they were playing in Mexico the following week. We didn’t have a hotel or plan, and we discovered that this concert was a huge fucking event. We found the one room still available around the corner from the concert venue and got down to partying.
CCR was great; they always, always were, which is why I was so heartbroken when they broke up. But RCPM? Oh, god, they were MAGICAL. I knew some of their music because I worked in a sports bar that had The Refreshments on the jukebox, but even the stuff I didn’t know felt familiar and wonderful. I am pretty sure there weren’t any fireworks that night, but that feeling you get when you see fireworks is so strong in my memories that I have to remind myself he was only singing, “The kids are lighting firecrackers/Boom, boom, boom” and that it wasn’t actually happening.
After that night, I was hooked. I saw RCPM anytime they played in Tucson and as many times in Phoenix as I could. I saw them in Rocky Point another three times, always as part of a fun road trip with the same buddy. They were the soundtrack to my life in the first few years after I graduated college; when I didn’t know what was going on or where my life was headed, I turned to Roger who just seemed to GET ME. And the concert last week just took me right back there, reminding me of all the fun I had while listening to this band.
This song cracks me the fuck up. And I actually like a mustache on a certain kind of man (I think my feller would look funny with one, but Tom Selleck’s gets me all hot and bothered, and my daddy just looks STRANGE without his).
I didn’t like this song until I saw it live and actually LISTENED to it. It’s beautiful and kind of melancholy, and I effing love Micky’s voice.
Come the light of day
I watch you take your things and go
And I can’t hardly sleep through the night anymore
Fun story: the lead guitarist (the lanky ginger to Micky’s right) totally wanted me. And had my mother not been with me, I
probably TOTES would have been ALL OVER THAT. Fuck yeah.
Within the genre of “Breakup Music” some of my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE is the “Angry Girl I-Hate-This-Fucking-Guy” variety. And Lucinda Williams is PISSED OFF. I love it. I love hearing raw emotion, passion in songs, something to connect to. I’m about ready to go to West Memphis to look for my joy too! Girl, you go get it.
This song is on the Crazy Heart soundtrack, which is pretty much the best movie I’ve seen in a long time, and the soundtrack is AWESOME if you like some Classic(ish) Country. And I do.
This song is how I managed to get laid so often in college. Not so much because I had a beer gut (or gut of any variety, really), but because I ROCKED the SHIT out of it.
It’s all about confidence, baby. People know when you’re insecure and unsure of yourself, and no one you want to date finds that attractive. I have a ritual for getting ready for a Night Out that involves loud ass music – sometimes country, sometimes dance, just whatever’s speaking to my soul at that moment, but it is almost always upbeat and great for getting myself into the Mood – dancing around in my panties as I put makeup on. And with every step of makeup application a little more armor, more confidence, goes on, until, at the very end, when I’ve stepped into my ridiculous heels for the evening and put my big flashy earrings on, I KNOW that I’m Hot Shit. I KNOW that men will fall all over themselves to be around me. I KNOW that I’m making out with some Hottie McHothot before the night is over. Even if I felt like death before, even if I’m completely nervous and scared of stepping out someplace new, by the time my ritual is complete, I am ROCKING IT. And even if I’m still unsure of myself? If I’m chatting up someone way hotter than I ever expected to? Fake it til you make it, baby. Slap a smile on your face and put some wiggle in your walk and fucking PRETEND like you know you’re better than everyone else.
That’s how I snagged multiple men who prefer their women thinner than I ever WANT to be. One guy? I was the only girl he’d ever been with who had big tits, and I was the one to end things with him. He couldn’t get enough.
And look, this isn’t to say that if you’re a shy, stay at home, nerdy girl you need to go out and tart yourself up, but, biatch, you gotta OWN who you are. Be CONFIDENT in your nerdiness! WORK your shyness, or whatever the fuck you are! KNOW that you FUCKING ROCK, and any douchebag who doesn’t recognize that doesn’t deserve your time or attention.