The grinning asian fiddler was in my pitch tonight (that's right....23rd Street belongs to ME), and I didn't want to give in. So I played at 23rd Street anyway. On a different train line. But my point was clear. No amount of dopey grins is going to repel me from my habitat.
My Dylan phase, as with all of my phases, seems to have died off as quickly as it came into being, making way for an Alex Chilton craze! It'll probably be short-lived, as his body of work is miniscule in comparison to Dylan's, and I'm really only familiar with his stuff with Big Star. And I'm sure Dylan's gonna make a comeback within my brain.
I was out for about three hours tonight, and almost nothing happened. People either paid attention to me or didn't, liked me or didn't, gave me money or didn't. I did some cool songs and some songs I hadn't tried much that didn't work, had a couple good harp solos and a couple that blew, had a couple strings in tune by the ned of the night and a couple warped into flatness by the cold. Pretty standard fare.
Oh, and for the record, even if I like Wilco, people are not generally going to be taken in with a song that starts with:
"I dreamed about killing you again last night, and it felt all right to me."
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