"Tiny Tears" Tindersticks -Tindersticks 2

When I close my eyes and listen to this song I think of a emaciated man prostrated in his bathroom doing heroin in slow motion. The early minutes of the song begin slow he's wrapping surgical hose around his arm, on the counter is some cooked up junk and a yellow-faded hypo, he eyes it and then throws a glance out into the bedroom where he sees the tatts that cover the back of his woman lying in a messed up bed With the first refrain the background instrumental kicks in closeup of a track-riddled pale, hairless inner elbow and the vein bulging, upper arm wrapping around the black hose The next verse and the scaling back into the drawn out organ still view of the needle and a hand that moves slowly to lift it off the counter Until right when the refrain begins again the needle pierces his skin, his head falls back against the white tile walls and eyes wander to the rear of the head The solo explodes tears fall down his face and his whole body relaxes to slump on the throne, the needle falls to the ground slowly and bounces on the floor As the viewer pulls away the final verse progresses and he sees the scene of the tattooed woman on the bed passed out and beyond the man on the toilet still, needle on the ground and a pale light flickering above mixing with the nearly exhausted candles all over the room.

I don't know what your personal perceptions of this song are but Tindersticks always provide a cinematic depth to their songs, draw your own conclusions and your own hell or heaven from them. They are a constant well to draw water from for your imaginative soul.

"Spirit of America" The Beach Boys

In 1962 Craig Breedlove became the first man to break 400 mph on the Bonneville Salt Flats. Twenty five years later I would be in my childhood home taking a bath listening to the dual-cassette player that was on the shelf. The cassette on the right side was a live Rodney Dangerfield album and on the left was "Spirit of America" by the Beach Boys, I listened to its title track incessantly risking electrocution on a nightly basis.

Little did I know, whether because of the poor acoustics or just because I was transfixed with harmonies, that this song was not about baseball, apple pie and girls in bikinis. The song was composed about Craig and the car with a J-47 (same engine housed in the MIG killing Saberliner F-86) engine straight down the centerline. The fact that Craig and his buddies built "The Spirit of America" in his garage, or that it almost took his life is besides the point. The Beach Boys are notorious for writing songs so pure and lovely...love songs that aren't about women. The list of this genre of car songs is long and topped in my mind with two that are heads and tails above the rest. "Don't Worry Baby"..."Baby when you race today just taAAAAke aloong my love with you" and "Racing in the Streets", (Springsteen) that begins with a poetic line of numerical alliteration: "I got a sixty-nine Chevy with a 396 Fuelie heads and a Hurst on the floor, She's waiting tonight down in the parking lot, Outside the Seven-Eleven store." But in a distant third is this complex harmonial mixture of sax, and vocals that makes you wanna slide down in the tub and throw your own vocals down.

So many times The Beach Boys are written off as guys who didn't surf, who diluted the Southern California lifestyle and were basic lollipop-gumball-cheesiness. Little do people know that they are probably one of the most influential artist of the past century. If you have any question just see what Alice Cooper says about them; and if you think they were a bunch of squares think about Brian Wilson laying in his bed challenging Clapton for how many drugs one could do in a year without leaving it.

And that is all for the curious to look up and hopefully experience, but first put this song on and transfer yourself back to more innocent days. If you are not compelled to sing along with this beautiful melodic piece of American history I feel for you and your sad plight in life, it is just as perfect in the shower as it is driving across the vast expanse of the endless beauty of the American West.