Dit Qu'il N'est Pas Etre

I just read on someone's blog that drummer Michael Azerrad has left The King of France, my favorite band in New York. I'm stunned. He was so integral to this band's lyrical yet explosive energy. They had/have a magic I'm still trying to define. And Michael Azzerad gave them gravitas as well as that crisp, propulsive drumming. He's a rock journalist of considerable renown. I think the world of him and I'm sorry he's decided the band isn't for him right now.

In other news, I have really bad PMS. The hormones invade you and drive rational thought out of your head. I'm going to meet with a radio DJ who has an idea for a non-profit music database, in Bryant Park, in about an hour. I answered his ad on Craig's List for a grant writer. He can't pay anything, but I liked his idea and I need experience writing grant proposals because every time I look at an ad for one, they say they want at least 3 years experience. Why are employers so inflexible about that? What about native smarts and ability? It really wears you down, that non-stop insistence on prior experience.

Anyway, I hope I can put two cogent words together for this man and also that his ideas can be in any way grasped by my sorry-ass brain today.

I'm listening to Charles Gayle play on this dj's show on WFMU. I love Gayle's simple phrasing. It's as unpretentious as the man himself, who's being interviewed in between playing. I once saw him play at Tonic and I loved the way he held his saxaphone out like a toy trumpet, eschewing that cool-jazz downcast eyes thing, just stickin' the thing out there and piping out these amazing, direct, pure and totally unexpected melody lines.

I love music!