A Draught of Vintage: I am the Tennessee Pusher

December 3, 2008

I am the Tennessee Pusher

Has anyone heard the new Old Crow Medicine Show CD Tennessee Pusher? In my opinion, it's mellow and evokes a feeling of country rather than hick; the presence of slide guitar and harmonious vocals exponentially increased, while the fiddle and harmonica decreased. It appears that large quantities of methamphetamine, cannabis, and cocaine resulted in a radically different sound than we, the listener, is used to. I must clarify by saying that the radical novelty of this sound is not altogether unpleasant, nor is it devoid of any merit, yet it is clear that Old Crow has done something different, perhaps due to the general spirit of "change" in the United States. Also, notably, Willie, my favorite, is still skinny and full of knee-buckling energy--there are some things that simply won't change. Now, on the last page of their luxurious album insert, they (I don't know who "they" are, but I'd like to find out, maybe there's a job offer involved somewhere...) have seen fit to inform us of the exact type of pickups that Old Crow uses, as well as the types of strings with which they string their instruments (D'addario's in case you're wondering. Good stuff). Josh Neu, you may know the moist-lipped Philosophy/English major, describes this insertion as "selling out," and backs up his egregious assertion by saying, "I like D'addario's and all, but they've sold out." If that doesn't create a circular argument, I don't know what does, but then again, he has an extremely nice yearbook photo with Mr. Peter Kane: can we say, creeper mustache, and a dirty goat, along with puckered lips, and a "bro" haircut?
Enough of that. John Sercer wrote a story, and it's about Jerry.
Old Crow Medicine show has sold out, and their music got better. How does that work? I don't know if they did sell out, I think Josh Neu has an opinion on the matter, but he's too busy working out external and internal relationships (some philosophical jargon, don't worry he'll explain it) between various signs on Northwest Highway.
In recent news: Wednesday is now fun. We (Sercer, Misko, Neu, Kane, Pixies, et cetera) have decided that we will put everything off to Wednesday, thus, we procrastinate until Wednesday--traditionally called hump day at Medieval Oxford. Today is Wednes--Hump Day, and we went to the Raj Mahal and bought some Levi something or other, it's "chaw." This chaw was then inserted into the various gaping maws and chewed on until the frothy slobbery spittle welled up in those mouths, at which time the brown chaw juice was most justly expectorated onto the Mall. Dr. Frank refused to accompany the 7 man chaw group, but did, however, ask us to "spit one for [him]." We spit rivers of brown glossy chaw product, and doused the mall from Tower to Braniff, leaving a veritable river of laughter, slobber, and Good Ol' Boy Texas accents in our wake. Don't worry, it's brown on brown, no one will notice. Unfortunately one of the education majors in her new fancy suede boots stepped into Sercer's pool of spit...gotta watch out there honey, it's a doosey...glorious.

Nothing much here, but, as you all know, I am Lord Bloch in Fr. McGuire's class, which makes me feel special. Joe Wauck is almost done with his thesis, and Joe Amorella's bald spot is still a favorite landing pad for the flies (drives him insane). No, we haven't cleaned out the closet yet, maybe some day. But we all eagerly await Brandon Misko's return from the Continent.

It's all for Bonnie Charlie, and St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna.