I am now 44. I had hoped to stay cool until April 8, 2011, when I turn 45. However, I have been spotifying of late, catching up with all the latest bands and new tracks or songs or whatever they are now. Downloads is so vulgar. Anyhoo. Sleigh Bells is a new band with an album called Treats. And it is really loud, glaring, and sort of like 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' for thirty-minutes without the super-smart lyrics, with punk girls and fuzz and funk. That is it feels blow-your-head open new and on a different level of noise and generation. I think this may be the first album that I recognise as genuinely excellent, subversive and fun that my ears will have to adjust to. I am no longer able to just jump right into the music's head, to be Larkin about it. But I am sidling up to this. I want to wear bells.
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.

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