RECORD SATURDAY CONTEST RULES: The Replacements, “Let It Be”

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During tonight’s Record Saturday live-tweet of The Replacements Let It Be, tweet me a pic (@libbycudmore) of you in your teenage years. Yearbook photos, class trip candids, the more angsty, goofy or dated, the better!

Three winners will receive a hand-picked record from the vaults of Record Saturday.  You have until Sunday, Aug. 28 to reply, and make sure to tag your photo #RecordSaturday so that I see it.

Ahead By a Century

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I discovered the Tragically Hip in 2005, when I was working at a tiny sandwich shop in Cobleskill.  The owner, who’s name I have long forgotten, would put on In Between Evolution.  It was magic. It was like love.  I asked her to burn me a copy, because I was so poor from the lousy wages she paid that I could barely afford rent on the apartment I shared with my sister, let alone a CD.  She obliged, and that album became the soundtrack to one last hometown summer and of the strange year in New York that would eventually inspire The Big Rewind.

I still think of a late-night run along the promenade in Brooklyn when I hear “Goodnight Josephine.”  I played “It Can’t Be Nashville Every Night” on my honeymoon as we drove through Tennessee.  And “In View” was the first song I played for Jason when we got back together.

And last night, my love for The Hip was rekindled as they performed for three hours in their final concert, broadcast live on the CBC. And not final as in “We’ll get back together in five years and tour again and you’ll pay big money to see it, suckers.”  Final as in no more, the end, forever, because Gord Downie has terminal brain cancer at age 52.

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SHOW NOTES: Steely Dan, The Dan Who Knew Too Much Sunday, July 10 at SPAC

(Not my photo; alas, I was in no man's land.)

(Not my photo; alas, I was in no man’s land.)

I haven’t been to SPAC in about 15 years, but I was absolutely not going to miss seeing Steely Dan in my own backyard.  My friend Thor was my date, and although the forecast was foreboding, we arrived armed with umbrellas, ponchos and chairs so that we didn’t have to sit on the wet, muddy ground.

My biggest worry with SPAC was that since we had lawn seats, the sound wouldn’t be that good.  Those fears were quickly assuaged when Steve Winwood took the stage.  He couldn’t sound more clear if I was listening to a CD in my car.
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Independence Day: Resurgence Is The Worst Movie Ever Made

Ah, why, did you, you, see this, ah, terrible movie?

Ah, why, did you, you, see this, ah, terrible movie?

Independence Day: Resurgence is the single worst movie I have ever seen in my entire life, and the only reason I’m mad about it being a flop is because this means I have no one to talk through the pain with.

“But Libby,” you might say, wise reader that you are. “You knew it was going to be stupid. Why did you go see it?”

The same reason everyone goes to the movies in the summer: Air conditioning.

You see, it’s about 700 degrees in the second floor walk-up apartment Ian & I call home, with 200 percent humidity, and that’s with two fans running.  It is too hot to eat.  Too muggy to sleep.  There was one escape, and that was to the movies.

You must understand one thing about me–I LOVE Independence Day because I love Bill Pullman, Jeff Goldblum and the 4th of July.  Before work got in the way, we used to have extravagant 4th of July parties, with Fizzball, a potluck dinner and an annual viewing of the film (with Rifftrax, obviously).  I gave President Whitmore’s iconic speech at my friend Eeon’s wedding and he gave it at mine.

I’ve stepped away from movie reviews of late, but I have to share this one. Otherwise, it will eat my soul.  There are some spoilers in here, but who are you kidding, you’re not going to see this crap-pile anyways.

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In Praise of Adult Contemporary Radio

I was not a cool kid.

Yes Please!

Yes Please!

While my sisters and peers were in love with Devon Sawa and JTT, I was crushing on Matthew Modine in Cutthroat Island and Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park.  While they were listening to Mariah Carey and Blink 182 on Fly 92, I was calling in to B 95.5, the adult contemporary station, in hopes of hearing George Benson’s “Turn Your Love Around.”

When I discovered The Smiths and Siouxsie & The Banshees in high school, then Tom Waits in college, I could finally feel cool.  Sure, it was a hipster-goth kind of cool, eschewing the flair-leg jeans and trucker

Bask in my total fucking coolness (or don't, who cares.)

Bask in my total fucking coolness (or don’t, who cares.)

hats of the early-2000s for Doc Martens and cabby caps.  I discovered a lot of incredible music during this time period, aided by some awesome mix CDs from great people.

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Song 53

“Song 53”

What is a poem to a creme brulee?
A tap, a crack, a crumb
Burnt sugar on your lip

And what is a creme brulee to a song,
An echo, little words
To taste upon your tongue

What is a song to a body
willing, a kiss like June

This fire in your mouth

But what is a body to a poem
Between sweet lines, this breath
Is all I have to offer

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Tear Down To The Bones

scissors_PNG1When I was a teenager, I LOVED buying thrift-store clothes and altering them.  (Like everything I did, I did this before it was cool.  What can I say? I’m a trend-setter).  I was a teen in the age on JNCOs and pointy-toe stiletto boots, and a goth girl, to boot.  I had to make due with what I had, but as a result, I had some amazingly cool clothes.

And although my days of wearing cigarette-cut pants trimmed with neon purple boas are over, the ability to tear something down and salvage the good pieces again is really coming in handy on my Work in Progress.

I’ve written almost two full first drafts of a new novel, and both of them are going to be scrapped.  The first draft was like a pair of fancy cut-offs: Cut out the pieces with the holes worn through, but embellish what’s left.  The second draft, it seems, is going to be more like an old concert shirt, stretched and faded beyond use.  Cut out the best part and see if there’s something else you can sew it onto–a tank top, a tote bag, a throw pillow.  Make something useful out of scraps.

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