Several years ago I stumbled on a National tune on 3Hive…if you don’t know 3Hive, it’s a music blog that’s a lot like lounging with your favourite peeps on a Saturday afternoon, hi-fi system pulled out for better access and everyone is nodding emphatically…visit often www.3hive.com…
Anyway…the National…right… The song is called Wasp Nest, and its imagery is so crisp and so delicate, I was immediately obsessed.
Your eyes are broken bottles
And I’m afraid to ask
And all your wrath and cutting beauty
You’re poison in the pretty glass
You’re a wasp nest, you’re a wasp nest
Go on, find a copy…listen…it’s intoxicating. I would run away with Matt Berninger’s voice at the drop of a hat…we’d travel through the south staying in sweltering hotels, grifting tourists and drinking whisky sours. Matt’s voice would wear linen pants and suspenders and call me Bijou, in its smooth, sultry way…
I was thinking about that song the day SR tore the roof off our side entrance and brought me this:
I must have taken dozens of photos…but I still can’t throw it away. I have a ghost-town stored in my garage with a layered, seductive baritone wafting through on a breeze.