Chirps

The title of this post is an obscure reference to the way Joni Mitchell referred to herself (“…and me, the chirp…”) while making band introductions on her 1974 live album, “Miles of Aisles.” I’ve always had a thing for Chirps, beginning waaay back in 1956 when I was mesmerized by Gogi Grant singing “Wayward Wind.” I get a lot of this “thing” from my Mom who idolized, among others, Kay Starr, Peggy Lee, The Andrews Sisters, Rosemary Clooney, Billie Holliday…and on, and on. These days I’m taken with Norah Jones, Lucinda Williams, and Mrs. Elvis Costello (Diana Krall…who does a fine cover of Joni’s “A Case of You”), just to name three. Not to mention the women blues singers like Etta James…and the immortal Aretha. And Joni, of course, who still is my favorite after all these years. In between my 11-year old “then” and my 62-year old “now” a lot of women on vinyl and that other, shiny form of plastic have made their way into my life, always enriching me way beyond the pittance I’ve given up in return for their music.

 

So…I read in my travels around the ‘net that Annie Lennox released a new album recently. (Apropos of nothing: Isn't she a hottie?) I was browsing the CD racks at the BX yesterday while running my errands and saw an unfamiliar Annie Lennox album and (wrongfully) assumed it was her new one. Well, it wasn’t. “Bare,” the album I picked up, is from 2003. Her new one is called “Songs of Mass Destruction,” and I’ll pick that up shortly… more than likely from Amazon…because the BX’s music selection sucks, to be blunt about it. But I digress. I auditioned “Bare” this morning while taking my morning coffee on the verandah on what is (or can be described as) a brilliant late summer’s day. Like all albums, I’ll have to give it three or four more listenings before I render final judgment…like, does it go in the car? Or not? Right off the top of my head, though, there isn’t one single song that jumps out at me…not like on “Medusa,” which had several. Not the least of which was this one:

And yet another digression: “the language” isn’t “leaving me.” It left. A little over nine years ago.

Chirps. Gotta love ‘em!

(photo: nemahziz)