Can someone please remind me, in February, that I want to watch the BBC special on PBS about a year in the life at Windsor castle?
Today I bought, with an iTunes gift certificate, the new Sheryl Crow album. I wasn’t going to, because I’ve been in a delightful musical rut recently. I bought Plans by Death Cab for Cutie when it came out (pre-ordered it, actually, and then its arrival was delayed by the hurricane. I couldn’t figure out why my CD hadn’t left Shreveport for a while, and then, “Oh.”), and I put it into the CD player on my car and basically listened to nothing else for two weeks. The kids at the desk at work are slowly introducing me to their favorite music — I’ve had a Sufjan Stevens CD made for me (which is lovely, except the ballad about John Wayne Gacy was a little discomfiting), and a copy of American Idiot by Green Day left on my desk, and this morning someone mentioned making copies of the new (not today’s new, but earlier-this-year new) Ryan Adams double-disc, and also, perhaps, Love is Hell. So, I’m happy with this music, and I haven’t been a big fan of the little clips of the first single that I’ve heard off the new Sheryl Crow CD, but… someone has to support Lance Armstrong in his retirement, I suppose.
On the plus side for buying this, Sheryl Crow’s last CD eeked a ton of writing out of me — which is a little strange, because her songs don’t tell stories, really. Whereas Plans, which, thematically, could easily be called a CD about Love and Death, is a story in every song, and yet… nothing.