Crunchy ‘Nanas

I was never a cover girl, especially if it was of a song I liked. But then there was Luka Bloom’s cover of “Bad”. And I heard David Byrne sing Whitney Houston at the Warfield. And dear god, if anyone knows where I can find a recording of Tim Reynolds playing “In Your Eyes,” please email me.

So, I’m willing to admit– there are some good ones. And covers, or talk of covers, seem to be cropping up in lots of places lately. So, how about here? Why the heck not? Here’s a list of goodies. There’s even a couple I like better than the real thing. But, I’ll not say which.

1. Video Killed the Radio Star- The Feeling (But don’t even get me started on their cover of “Don’t Give Up”.)
2. California Stars- Billy Bragg and Wilco
3. In Your Eyes- Tim Reynolds
4. True Colors- Eva Cassidy
5. Sexual Healing- Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals
6. Midnight Train to Georgia- Indigo Girls
7. Gloomy Sunday- Sarah McLachlan
8. Go Down Easy- David Gray
9. Bad- Luka Bloom
10. Human Behavior- The Decemberists
11. I Wanna Dance With Somebody- David Byrne

(Monday Mixtape? It’s either late or early. You choose.)

Courtesy of Kym via baby Audrey. (Baby didn’t get to go to the game, but she was watching it on tivo at midnight last night when we called):

“7 Seconds” was my first experience of Youssou N’Dour*. Besides simply being a good song, I remember thinking how different it was– a song in a foreign language (at least partly) playing on the radio, the video airing on MTV and VH1. It wasn’t just the language, but the way those words sounded coming from his mouth. There’s something about his voice, the way the syllables roll, the way everything vibrates (”there’s a million voices”) that just got—and hooked—me.

Fourteen years later, I got to see him live. It was awesome. He was playing with his band le Super Etoile de Dakar last night at the indigO2 in London. He has such a personable, charismatic presence on stage, and really interacts with the audience. And the rhythms are great. I didn’t want to stop dancing. That’s 2+ hours of cross training in my book! (It was a wonderfully long set.)

Before the show, I was saying “you know, this concert’s a little different. I don’t have specific songs I want to hear, I just want to hear the music.” I lied. I just didn’t know it. I was such a happy bunny when they played C’est L’amour. It was great, all of it.

[*But wait, those of you who have read my blog for longer than a day, may say! What about the Peter Gabriel So tour? Shaking the Tree? I was 8 in 1986. The only music I was tuned into was Madonna, Michael Jackson, and the Beatles (because of my mom). I discovered Peter Gabriel much later. Though not, I have to point out to one loyal reader in particular, because of the movie “Say Anything.”]

The weather here teases and taunts me. I’ve sat huddling, shivering, willing the winter to run its course and warmer months to drop in for a visit. It’s not that I don’t appreciate rain, because I do very much, but we haven’t actually had that much of it. It’s just been cold. I do not like cold. I like to be able to feel my fingers and toes when I run. I like to be able to turn the key in my car after a trip to the beach. Snow on Easter was exciting because it was pretty and novel and different. But now I say, bring on the heat!

The flowers have been out for weeks, but the air temperature has still been bitterly chilly. But yesterday, I felt signs that Mother Nature has started to warm her oven. I got (overly, as it turns out) excited about being able to run in shorts today and shaved my legs. All for nothing. The gash I took out over my Achilles’ tendon? ALL FOR NOTHING! I woke up to rain and it’s cold, cold, cold again. I am a cold-weather wuss, I know, but I am so ready for spring and summer.

I am, however, feeling a bit pertinacious today, so I think I’ll wear them anyway. And freeze. Just like I imagine this man was doing on Easter:

*Note: I have to graciously eat my words. (They are delicious.) After posting this, the sun came out, the temperature rose, and not only did I run in shorts but I shed my warm hat and gloves. It was wonderful.

Then, as if I thought it couldn’t get any better, the temperature hit 17, yes 17!, as we drove into London for Youssou N’Dour.