Eleven forty.
Aesop and I are up again after having a nap for several hours. I have opened the windows for the night hoping to cool off the house. In the fuddling heat I slept shallowly and dreamed about bass guitar and the old ‘90’s band Alice In Chains, which by the way I never really liked. I used to have a friend who was into most of the grunge bands, but throughout that decade I stocked up on King Crimson CDs and other stuff from the ‘70’s and ‘80’s that qualified as “progressive rock.” Occasionally I’d buy a jazz fusion disc, and I also went through a phase of modern classical music until I more or less exhausted the genre. I remember listening to Edgar Varese in the summer of 1997, really enjoying Ameriques, a piece that sounds like The Rite of Spring. While I traveled around doing disco with Satin Love, my brain would play back Varese or Arnold Schoenberg during the day, or maybe a film score by Jerry Goldsmith. My mind entertained itself this way and kept me company when I was alone or felt alone with others.
Quarter of one. I’ve been thinking about the particular sound of the band I find myself in. It’s hard to classify. Ron called it eclectic, and I would add that it’s unusual, quirky and peculiar. I doubt if it will ever be popular aside from a small devoted following. But I think I like it. Whatever else it may lack, the music has a kind of integrity and fidelity to the people involved in creating it. And I get to be a part of it.