Music, music, music

Honestly, I've tried to like Bruce Springsteen. I've tried. But the only song I really enjoy is "Born to Run." Sung karaoke-style. Even "Jersey Girl" is tons better as sung by Tom Waits. Maybe it's a geography thing. Maybe, as a Long Islander, that regional-man-music square millimeter of my brain is firmly occupied by vintage (pre-Uptown Girl, naturally) Billy Joel.

I can't help but like Cat Stevens. I find his voice weirdly soothing.

Try making a 'Bob Dylan' station on Pandora. You'll get lots of mildly maudlin, somewhat soothing, acousti-men, bluesy-folksy-lyrical music. Johnny Cash, Townes van Zandt, Steve Earle, Cat Stevens. I've nixed out the Everly Brothers, Paul Simon (too maudlin even for me), and of course the "Boss."

Ooh, and the odd protest song! Woody Guthrie, of course. And now, Phil Ochs singing "I Ain't Marching Anymore." Why don't we write protest songs like we used to? Pete Seeger can't live forever, literally. (With apologies to my most Rabbity friend.)

I'm at work. Thank you, Pandora Radio, for keeping me amused, and allowing me to influence the base-pairing of the so-called 'musical genome.' Whatever that may be. I'm fixing to nix some more Bruce.