This is from the album Boys And Girls in America. Craig Finn writes these great tales of life in America with thumping choruses and what sounds like the best bar room band in the world making a healthy racket behind him. Actually it takes me back to the first bunch of bands I use to see around Melbourne before punk rock exploded in 1977 and they kinda became old hat. Or those records by Brinsley Schwartz in 1975. or even early Springsteen. Especially when the piano comes tinkling in. Or someone else takes over the lead vocals for a line of the song. And the lines of the song that keep tumbling out. This guy is like some modern Jack Kerouac.
Whatever the ingredients it's like reading a short story that you never get sick of. And even though the characters go through a bad time meets good time it makes we wonder why I never went to a festival in all these years. I've played a couple but then we drove in and left a few hours later. And that was the Sunny Sedgewick festival run by our friend Ayesha. Up in the hills outside Bendigo. which was fun. But never overnight. Actually I think I've only stayed in a tent 4 times in my life. In the back yard of a friend's house when I was 11. In Army cadets when I accidentally shot a hole in the tent with my 303 rifle. I was 13 and they let us carry guns to bed. It was a blank but still could blow a hole through thick tarp. Only in the 70s. Wilson's Prom where I was attacked by a wombat! And those things are big. Yeah and at the snow. Enough said on that one. I've realised I'm not big on tents.
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