Damn You, James Lileks!

Why must he hate all that is good with America? Well, except for the New Wave, that did kick ass.

There’s very little music I like less than blues. Polka, perhaps. Not really very enthusiastic about bluegrass, either. Or most folk music. I know some people absolutely adore the “O Brother Where Art Thou” soundtrack, but I’d rather have shards from the broken CD jabbed in my gums than hear it again. I am a man of constant sorrow, are you. Well, here’s why: because your music is unlistenable! You wouldn’t be happy if you were a veterinarian who was deathly afraid of animals, either. (To ward off the angry letters: yes, I know the fellow is a venerated icon with a fascinating life story; I read all about it in the New Yorker, and by the time the piece was over I considered getting on the back of an old pickup and joading my way out to Californny, so deep and true and spiritual did the artist’s mileu and lifestory seem. Then I listened to the songs, and thought: nope, not for me. No sir. I’ll be over here with the guys with skinny ties and thrift-store suits and checked Vans, listening to New Wave. As we called it, in our hubris.