sundays have become slightly less lazy now that's i've taken to adding two hours of it to my work week... but there's something so calming about a silent studio, a cup of coffee, playing tunes i want to hear and having guests on to talk about information that feeds my creative spirit...
plus, it means i'm up and out the door by 8:30 a.m. and finish taking the mic by 11:00 -- leaving a whole day ahead of me to do everything or nothing...
the past week has been a crash-course on canadian indie music... record labels began responding to my pleading emails and discs by artists i've never heard of ended up on my desk primed for radio play... each night while dinner simmers, we sit in the living room exploring the next melodic offering and screening for cussing...
to further expand my growing collection of can-con, i spent the day sprawled on the living floor of a friend's place -- jewel cases devouring every last speck of carpet, dishing out memories of best and worst concert experiences and speculating on our futures... my ipod was fed with playlist options and my mind was relaxed by both a human connection and herbal satisfaction... hours passed with no notice and i promptly trotted home for supper...
it was like a play date for music junkies... i quoted buffy sainte-marie for the title of this post because it seemed simple and fitting... over the past year, i've departed from scouring stereogum and pitchfork for the latest... and though i never left the power of music behind, now i feel like channeling my efforts into my casual sunday morning routine is reacquainting me with an old friend...
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the saying may go that "actions speak louder than words," but in my opinion words actually shout decibels above any move one could make... so expressive, interpretive and intense... all you need to find is a method to your madness to avoid rambling nonsense...
