I know, I know – I haven’t posted in a while. My bad. I’ve been busy at work, and in my free time I’ve been spending at least two hours a day scouring NYC apartment websites, vacillating between “I don’t care where I live, as long as it’s downtown” to “You know, the Upper East Side wasn’t so bad” to “If I lived in Bay Ridge again, I could save a ton of money” – rinse and repeat up to fourteen hundred times a day. The best part is that I’m no closer to getting an apartment or even knowing where I want to live than I was when I started looking earlier this month. So that’s good.

(So if you know any of one-bedroom apartments, preferably downtown, as of December 1, please let me know.)

But, in the absence of posts, there are two things you can do:

1) Be my friend on Facebook. This is not for the ego (for the most part), but I comment on there, sometimes post pictures, etc. Also, I like seeing what you look like (for the most part).

2) Follow me on Twitter. Despite trying it earlier and hating it, I think I now “get” Twitter. Or I should say, I figured out how to do it from my iPhone and I like posting pictures of things that I eat and drink. I use it more on the weekends, when I’m feeling desperately lonely and wandering around LA (read: my apartment). But I’ve been on Twitter regularly for about two weeks now, so I think it’s sticking.

I’ll have more next week, but until then, here’s a really, really long Six Songs.

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Six Songs

“Sweet Virginia” The Rolling Stones
For the first 24 years of my life, I had very little interest in The Rolling Stones. I’d heard “Satisfaction,” “Brown Sugar,” “Start Me Up,” etc, and, well, just wasn’t really into it. But my buddy/former roommate Brian, a huge Stones fan, slowly broke me down. And now – though I have no actual evidence to back this up – I’m guessing they’re the band I’ve recommended most in “Six Songs” over the life of this blog.

The problem is – and I don’t mean this to sound snobby or hipster or whatnot – but their “Greatest Hits” are really not their greatest hits. Take this song, for example. A somewhat obscure track (though off the phenomenal and very popular “Exile on Main Street,” which is likely in a tie with Magnetic Fields’ “69 Love Songs” for the album that has the most songs I’ve recommended – but again, no actual evidence), is probably one of my top five or ten favorite Stones’ songs. Any dirty/country song whose refrain includes “Got to scrap that/shit right off your shoes” is ok in my book.

[While we’re here, I want to point out that arguably my favorite concert experience ever was when Joseph Arthur and the Lonely Astronauts covered “Miss You” at Southpaw in Brooklyn two or three years back. Good lord. I know I wrote about this, but I’m too lazy to search the archives. Suffice it to say that the $2 Bud bombers made me very drunk and the hypnotic bass line made me very aroused and Joseph standing on stage, leg up on an amp, screaming into the microphone “I’m guess I’m lying to myself/It’s just you and no one else/Lord I miss you”, and a few hundred sexy sweaty hipster chicks swaying on the dance floor and singing “Oh-oh-oh-oh, oh oh oh”…I mean, wow. I might just be able to say it was the best sex I’ve ever had, despite the lack of climax, penetration, making out, or even physical contact with a female (or male, for that matter).]

Anyway, for the past fourteen months, buddy/former roommate Brian has been working on a project we’ve titled “40 Other Licks.” Meant to be a b-side to the “40 Licks” greatest hits compilation, it will include the lesser-known – but substantially more awesome – Rolling Stones tracks that are not overly popular. I’m not saying this song will be on there, but rather that I’m looking forward to this like I’m looking forward to a vacation or Christmas (Brian estimates that he’s six weeks away from completion). If we figure out how to do so, we will put this up on iTunes as a playlist. Until then, start with this one, and search “Rolling Stones” and “Six Songs” on this site. That’ll get you started, I think.

“It’s All in My Mind” Teenage Fanclub
This song is perfect. When I dream that I am a talented musician, this is the song that I write. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever skipped this song when it’s come up on my iPod; no matter the mood, the time of day, the weather, if I’m sober or drunk, the amount of clothing I’m wearing, it’s perfect.

“The Parting Glass” The High Kings
Despite having a great-grandfather born in Ireland on one side of my family and the surname “Brennan” on the other side of my family, I’m not a big “I’m Irish!!!” guy. This is not to imply in any way that I’m ashamed of my Irish ancestry; if anything, I’m grateful for my ability to imbibe the water of life and to be sensitive and poetic and good company, all attributes I’d never trade for something as silly as having a larger (or even normal-sized) penis. And while I enjoy Guinness and Celtic music and truly would like to have a brood of ill-tempered, stubborn and fair-skinned children (not a joke – I really would have six or so kids if I could, but I think I’ve got about four bullets – tops – in my chamber, thanks to excessive drug and saturated fats abuse), I’m just about the last guy to cover myself in green on March 17 or tell strangers with Irish accents, “You know, my family’s from Ireland, too!”

I think this is because of where I grew up. Which is to say, I grew up in an area where people were so blindly proud of the Irish ancestry that they’d put “26 + 6 = 1” bumper stickers on their cars without having any idea what it meant and where allegiance to Notre Dame football was required, because, well, “They’re Irish like me! And I like to fight, too! IRISH!!! YEEEAAHHH!!!!” I have no problem with pride, but pride without understanding or critical thought is a grave, almost unforgivable error. It makes me…ugh. Let’s not go down this road.

[And I’m not trying to claim that I’m some Irish history buff here. I was a history major, but it was Tudor and Stuart Britain I was interested in, since I love castles and knights and kings and such. Also, “King Charles II” or “Earl of Essex” is easier to remember than “Cathal Brugha” or “Ruaidrí mac Tairrdelbach Ua Conchobair.”]

[And yes, I had to email an Irish friend and ask, “Can you give me some hard to pronounce/spell names from any time in Irish history?”]

Having said all this, please take note: If I die (notice not “when” but “if”), I would like this song played at my funeral. I want the funeral to be a happy affair, a true celebration of life, but we can play this song and for four minutes, every one can get their sadness out (for most people, because I owed them money which they’ll never see now). Then it’s off to the bar for copious amounts of booze and stories that start with, “Man, Mulgrew really was a weird guy…” and “Did you guys ever see his dick? Yikes.”

“Nocturne No. 11 in G Minor, Op. 37 No. 1” Frédéric Chopin (as performed by Vladimir Ashkenazy)
I don’t know anything about classical music, but I swear that, at about the 2:29 mark in this song, God begins speaking to me. I was dicking around on my computer when this randomly came on the iTunes, and it froze me in my tracks, a real “holy crap” moment. The whole thing is lovely, but for about a minute and a half after that 2:29 mark, it’s beautiful. I don’t think this means I had an awakening or that I’m classier or anything, but still, a stunning piece nonetheless.

“When the Forgetfulness of Sleep Has Gone” Charles Ramsey
Look, I’m gonna make this really simple: if you take a piano-based song, throw in some devastatingly sad lyrics, and then add some strings and a harmony or two, well, I’m all aboard. Really, everything I like can be broken down into simple parts or pieces:

Music: [as described above]

Sandwiches: salted meat (the saltier the better), soft cheese, dairy-based spread (from mayo to honey mustard), non-hard (or un-grilled) roll

Beer: either canned American OR stout that’s heavier than me

Women: Good boobs, long hair that bounces on shoulders, nice smile, hoop earrings (note: messy ponytail is more than adequate substitute)

Television show or movie: Sexual-based murder OR poop jokes with brains

Really, I’m not that hard to figure out. And this song – like most of his songs – is right up my alley. If you don’t think I’ve replayed that outro (“She backed off, you broke apart/Felt like a dagger going into your heart”) about 50 million times while swilling Bud bombers (canned American beer), well, you’re sadly mistaken. Just a terrific song.

“Black Books” Nils Lofgren
I got an email from Mike in Philly, suggesting I pimp this here and also use this on the “Let’s Make Out or Something” playlist. On the former, sure; on the latter, close, but not quite.

I have written extensively about my somewhat-secret “Let’s Make Out or Something” playlist, a playlist has been in the works for years and is constantly evolving, but let’s refresh our collective memory. The goal of LMOOS is two-fold: 1) to create an ambiance that is conducive to making out – without being obvious – and, perhaps more importantly, 2) to successfully sustain this level of ambiance without being distracting or ruining the moment.

For example, songs like “So Cruel” by U2 or “Waste” by Phish might sound nice and put you in the mood to make out, but those songs are too popular and trite. I’ve always tried to be somewhat obscure in my LMOOS song choices, because you don’t want your lover potentially singing the song her in head while you lamely and unsuccessfully try to finger her. Calm, soothing, slightly disorienting music is the aim. For example, for a year or two, one of the staples of the LMOOS playlist was “Anthems for a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl” by Broken Social Scene. That is, it was until one night when a former ladyfriend and I were beginning our enchanted journey through the musty realm of lovemaking when this song came on and she abruptly stopped and said, “Oh my god – can you turn this off? It sounds like kids are singing.” So yeah, I took “Anthems” off the LMOOS list.

[Sidenote: I swear that I once dated a girl – not the one who told me to take off “Anthems,” but another girl – who was so remote during lovemaking that I could practically hear music – and not the LMOOS music – playing in her head. To this day, she remains the only girl that I’ve ever faked an orgasm with, something I did routinely when we did it, because we shared the same emotional connection as I would have if I’d effed a slightly microwaved chicken breast (and, oh yeah, I’m a dude, so you can kinda tell if, you know, I’m not making good on my promises). Don’t get me wrong – I don’t necessarily blame her; if I had to do me, I’d be thinking of about just about anything to keep my mind off the bad decisions I’d made up to that point in my life to find myself laying, nude, beneath (at the time) 230 pounds of maniac, hair, and fury…but still. You gotta cover it up a little better than that, you know? Sheesh.]

All of this is a roundabout way of saying that this song meets the first criteria of the LMOOS playist – it is ambient, obscure, lovely and makes me want to kiss (although this last one is not that hard). But the problem is that the guitar solo toward the end of the song (I’m talking of the live version of the song; the studio version is not very good at all). The song’s coming along all nicely and calmly and moody and then ol’ Nils starts the guitar solo outro and goes off – the result sounds like a cross between an acoustic guitar throwing up and a stressful moment in an 80’s video game.

So no, Mike, this song will not be included on my LMOOS playlist. A great song, and close to LMOOS qualification, but jusssst short. Trust me, the last thing you need during private time is the LMOOS to cause your lady to say, “Wait – what’s the deal with this song? The guitar’s too much! And how did I get here? And why does it smell like hot dog water?”

[Have a good weekend.]