Hi Darling Ones,

I cannot wait any longer. We have to talk about the flagship in the room.*

My plan was to wait until I had an actual physical copy of Amanda Shires’ new record Take it Like a Man (TILAM) in my hot little hands. There would have been an arty picture of the record with some lyrics on it for the header. I might have been past this obsessive stage of falling for a new record. Who knows? Nobody, because I’m talking about it now. Again. I talked about the song “Hawk for the Dove” already.

I’ve listened to TILAM fourteen times since it dropped Thursday night. I have no shame. This record perfectly fits into a sad/angry/horny groove inside my soul and listening to these ten songs on repeat just feels good.

Also, if you’re the kind of person who loves a really good record/book pairing, might I suggest you try TILAM with Gina Frangello’s blistering Blow Your Own House Down? Both of them feature notes of bravery and brilliance with the subtle aroma of vulnerability and ferocity. These are two works of art by women at the top of their game. For real, if you ever find yourself feeling sad/angry/horny** all at the same time you will find much camaraderie in the book and the record.

Back to Ms. Shires. She is, without hyperbole, one of the greatest songwriters of her generation. The use of imagery in her songwriting is spectacular (see: “Parking Lot Pirouette“). She’s adept at wordplay (see the line: Like a common loon I started hearing birds. in the song “Take it Like a Man.“). And she weaves together ideas in the most unexpected and startling way. One of my all-time favorite lyrics is from her song “Harmless” where she sings, Your eyes a shade of wonder like if thunder had a color.

There’s something really exciting when you recognize an artist pushing themselves further than they have before. This is evident in TILAM. There’s also something really magical when an artist trusts you with their truth and is brave enough to show you their vulnerability. Shires has spread this all over TILAM. And I could go on and on about the sequencing of this record and how side one is angry and sad and how side 2 is bouncy and horny.

Instead, let’s talk about the utter brilliancy of “Fault Lines” the last track on side one.

“Fault Lines” is, as Shires has said many times, about a shitty time in her marriage to Jason Isbell. It’s a spare and desolate. The song expresses the emptiness that comes after the anger has burned through your system and now you’re just done. Done. What raises this song to the level of complete brilliance is how Shires uses Isbell’s own song to explain exactly how she’s feeling. She sings, And the character you wrote yourself out to be, the flagship, all part of my fooling.

When I first heard that word, flagship, in this song while laying in my dark bedroom at 11:30 on Thursday night, I felt my central nervous system start to sizzle. Oh, I thought, she is going there.

If you’re not familiar with Isbell’s catalog, “Flagship” is a song off his 2015 record Something More than Free. It’s a song where he vows to never let their love fade. On this song both Shires and Isbell sing, Baby, let’s not ever get that way. I’ll say whatever words I need to say.

And if you listen to Shires’ new songs, it’s very clear they got that way. You can also hear it on “Empty Cups.” The sound of silence rings in every room.

But the specificity of calling him out for failing to be the character he painted himself to be and her feeling foolish for believing it. . . well that’s a heaping helping of bravery mixed with vulnerability. Also, sweet burn. Also, ouch.

I’m sure I’ll have a lot more to say about this record as it continues to reveal itself to me.

Angrily, sadly, and hornily yours,
Jodi

 
*Whenever I hear the word flagship I first think of Kurt Vonnegut because when my friend Shawn got Vonnegut to sign a copy of Cat’s Cradle for me, he called the book the flagship of his fleet.

 
**My Weird-Al brain has been singing a version of John Cougar Mellencamp’s “Lonely Ol’ Night” called Horny Ol’ Night, featuring this line, “I don’t know, I’m just so sad and horny all at the same time.”

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Dear Darling Ones,

The best thing about being a work from home freelancer is that it affords me very much time to daydream. Instead of commuting to work, I daydream. Instead of getting a case of the Mondays, I let my mind wander through my favorite subjects: books, music, and making out with men. Rather than attend meetings, I daypanic about imminent climate disaster. This last one is zero percent fun.

Today while arguing with my Twitter pals about the unevenness of Paul Westerberg’s 2003 record “Come Feel Me Tremble,” I wished for the 82,198,591st time that I had more women to talk about The Replacements with. This is not a slight on my much-beloved dude Westernerds. I adore them, but I still wish ‘Mats fandom was more female-friendly and that once in awhile a woman got to be an expert on the band.

At the same time I thought, wouldn’t an all-female tribute to The Replacements be the greatest thing to ever happen to rock & roll? This kind of tribute with zero dudes involved would be so excellent. It would introduce girls to the band. It would let women talk about The ‘Mats in a way that had zero to do with wanking off about the shitty production of “Tim” or about who the cute one was/is. And for sure a woman would get to write the liner notes because we’re done with letting one dude be the ‘Mats expert.

I was a little surprised how quickly my imaginary track list came together. Here it is

Angel Olsen, Can’t Hardly Wait

My brain started with Olsen because she recently covered Safety Dance and she has a covers EP coming out in a few weeks.

Phoebe Bridgers, If Only You Were Lonely

She already covered Here Comes a Regular at First Ave a few years ago, so just imagine how much she would slay this one.

Neko Case, Bastards of Young

Something about Case’s song “Man” made me think she’d do an interesting take on this one.

Lucinda Williams, Achin’ to Be

The first time I saw Westerberg at the Guthrie in 2000 he sang the last line she’s achin to be, just like Lucinda and me. So this one is obvious.

Amanda Shires, Within Your Reach

The synthy intro on the original made me think of Shires’ “Parking Lot Pirouette.”

Lydia Loveless, Sixteen Blue

Loveless does that aching, conflicted, longing thing so well.

Joan Jett, I Bought a Headache

She already did “Androgynous.” Just imagine her growling giving me a eight dollar and fifty cent, I bought a headache.

Liz Phair, Answering Machine

I think Liz could interpret this sad song into something kind of sexy and I’m mad that I can’t hear it right now.

Laura Marling, Unsatisfied

The woman who sings “False Hope” will bring the same plaintive desperation to “Unsatisfied” that Westerberg does.

Japanese Breakfast, Little Mascara

In my head I want her to treat this one just like her “Savage Good Boy.”

Julien Baker, Here Comes a Regular

This cover doesn’t exist as far as I know, but I can hear Baker singing it in my head and it gives me gooebumps. Just imagine the woman who sings I’ll wrap Orion’s belt around my neck and kick the chair out singing You’re like a picture on the fridge that’s never stocked with food
I used to live at home, now I stay at the house. Ugh, I could already cry.

The Linda Lindas, Kids Don’t Follow

These are the young women who sing “Racist, Sexist Boy.”

Morgan Wade, Alex Chilton

I’m pretty new to Wade’s music, and I really like how she sounds on “Wilder Days.” I think she could give Alex a good go.

Kathleen Edwards, Skyway

“Hockey Skates” is lovely and feels Minnesotan (though Edwards is Canadian), kinda like “Skyway.”

Jenny Lewis, Left of the Dial

This one felt really obvious to me.

Waxahatchee, I Will Dare

This is, obviously, the most coveted honor of all. My life needs to hear her sing “I Will Dare” the same way she sings west memphis is on fire in the light of day.

boygenius, Valentine

This was Wolfdogg’s suggestion that was so good I had to include it. Their cover of “Cowboy Take Me Away” is so wonderful you know they’d bring that to “Valentine.”

The Go-Go’s, Kiss Me on the Bus

This was Westernerd Chris’ suggestion that was so good and obvious I’m a little angry I didn’t think of it on my own before he did.

Is this manifesting, Darling Ones? I have put this wish out in the world so now the universe can make it happen.

Dibs on writing the liner notes,
Jodi

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Hi Darling Ones,

My brain is pretty much a never-ending jukebox. I sing songs I know, songs I don’t know,* songs I make up, and nonsense jibber-jabber constantly. I am the star of a very special musical in my mind.

The only time I turn it down is when I’m sleeping it off. Ha! I just wanted to get that line in because I love that song.

But for real, the only time I turn down the music in my head is when I’m reading a book. It’s nice, a little bit of quietness for a brain that never shuts the fuck up. Especially when I’m reading fiction I can get lost in the story and it stills all the chatter. It happens less so with non-fiction.

Occasionally, a book will get a song stuck in my head and it will drive me bananas. It happened when I read Vampires in the Lemon Grove by Karen Russel and my brain had to Weird-Al the title to the tune of “Angel in the Centerfold.” It happened when I read Freedom by Jonathan Franzen too, and let me tell you having that Wham! song stuck in your head for the entirety of a Franzen tome is zero fun.

This week I read Olympus, Texas by Stacey Swann which combined two of my favorite things: Cowboys + Greek Mythology. Yum! My one complaint is that all the characters live near or on the Brazos River in Texas. For people not afflicted with jukebox brain this is probably not a problem.

However, the jukebox brain in my head has been singing “Mineral Wells” by Amanda Shires nonstop for the last three days. This usually wouldn’t bother me because I think Shires’ is one of the most underrated songwriters working. She’s brilliant and I could make a really strong case for her being an even better writer than her husband, Jason Isbell. But when I’m trying to find all the Greek myth Easter eggs in the cowboy story, having at night I dream I’m in the Brazos river. . . on a loop in your head it makes it a little difficult to concentrate.

Thankfully, I finished the book today before my nap.

Your jukebox hero,
Jodi

P.S. I started a new gig today and due to technical difficulties I ended up having two hours of meetings in a row. Let me tell you, my body, my mouth, and my social muscles were not prepared for that. I’ve been freelancing for twelve years, if I have two one-hour meetings in a week I need to whine and bellyache about it for at least thirty-six hours.

After the meetings I had to lay down and take a short nap. The pandemic has made my already quick-draining social battery drain even more quickly. I’m legit afraid how I’m gonna cope when the Sister Club comes to town in a few weeks. It already takes me a day to recover from having The Olds & The Youths over for dinner.

How long does it take to rebuild those social muscles? Are there exercises I can do?

I remember in the way before times when I would work eight hours at an office, go to a class at The Loft, and then out to a bar. WHO WAS THAT PERSON? How did I even manage to do all that without shriveling up into an incoherent blob all the time?

Anyway, yay, new fun job!

 
*One time I had this weird song stuck in my head for like a week and I couldn’t find it at all. I sang it to my friend Adam and he went into super Google mode. A few hours later he comes back with, you’re singing two different songs, one is Ferry Cross the Mersey by Gerry and the Pacemakers and whatever the name of the other song was that I don’t remember. He only questioned me a little about how I was singing songs I barely knew.

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Dear Darling Ones,

Today has been an annoying shit show. It’s one of those days where I have zero emotional capacity to deal with any minor inconvenience and there have been 828 minor inconveniences. I will not bore you with the details. They are so inconsequential that when I talked to my friend EM on the phone she laughed at my pettiness.

This morning I had a call with one of my long-time, sporadic clients. She’s a hoot, runs an excellent nonprofit, and is so comfortable in our working relationship she drops the word fuck in our conversations on the reg. My clients who are not afraid to say the f-word are my favorite. Also, 99% of my clients will say the f-word because I only work with the totally rad.

Today between talking about actual work and other stuff she said, “You’re an interesting person.”

I was taken aback. Me? Interesting? I’m not, as they say on the TikTok for reasons I haven’t quite discerned, a main character. As I often joke with Sister #2, I’m the Mary to her Laura, the Jackie to her Roseanne, and the Beezus to her Ramona. At best I’m a guest star on a very special episode where everyone learns not to bully the fat girl.

So yeah, totally taken aback. So aback that I was quiet for so long she thought maybe the call got dropped.

What I thought in response: Not really, I’m just so starved for human attention* that I’m literally dying and will be as witty as possible in an effort to extend this conversation 30 seconds. Not really, but I have turned my trauma and sadness into humorous anecdotes to distract people & myself from that actual trauma and sadness.

What I said in response: “Thank you.”

For the record, I find myself endlessly fascinating and super amusing. I crack myself up on an hourly basis and sometimes even compliment myself on my wit. However, most of this doesn’t translate to other humans.

What was so nice about this little exchange is that I felt seen. So seen in ways I haven’t felt in a long time because I have no interacted with people who aren’t related to me in forty-four fortnights.**

In other news, today I got a signed 45 of Amanda Shires & Jason Isbell’s duet “The Problem” and it makes me smile every time I think about it and I cannot wait to frame it and put it on the wall of my dining room which is gonna resemble a super nerdy hardrock cafe after Christmas. I can’t wait to show you.

Jodi
 
*I feel like this is a little bit of a misnomer, because I talk on the phone with friends every weekend. But still. . . Sunday to Thursday is a long damn time. I frequently don’t interact with anyone on those days and feel untethered to this earth. It’s hard.
 
**a slight exaggeration. I really love fortnight as a measurement of time and I’m gonna bring it back in 2021.

The post The COVID Diaries: You’re an Interesting Person, She Said. appeared first on I Will Dare.

Well, Darling Ones, we got a bit of a good news bad news situation up in this joint.

One bit of good news, for the most part I’ve kicked the insomnia to the curb and am melatonin free. There’s some unfortunate 6 a.m. wake ups, but nothing a little bit of practice* can’t take care of.

The bad news? I’ve been consistently plagued with awful nightmares. They run the gamut from the OMG what are we doing eating inside this restaurant where nobody is wearing masks and we aren’t either? to romantic rejection in the cruelest ways possible. That’s what woke me up this morning. Before I drifted back to sleep I wrote what I thought was a poignant and beautiful post about loneliness and sex and romance and being a tall, fat woman — only I wrote it in my head and when I decided to type it out it was just too.

Yesternight** I dreamt I had a screaming fight with Sister #3 where I said I would never forgive her for sabotaging my relationship with the Tibbles. Then she got mad and turned our dad against me (something she’s actually, factually done in the past to Sisters #2 & #4).

Even though I woke up cloaked in melancholy from the bad dreams I vowed to make today decent.

I started out so well, all good news.

First, I put together a lasagne for dinner (it was delicious, thanks for asking).

Second, I finished reading the very excellent Plain Bad Heroines, which you should read if you like creepy books or lesbians or movies or books about books. For real it’s a Top 10 book of 2020 for me (and I’m at like 110 books so far this year so. . .)

Third, I crocheted a goofy hat for Wendell while listening to the new Postal Service live record. This didn’t really help the melancholy because it just made me nostalgic for who I was 15 years ago.

Fourth, this how hard I was trying! Four things!, I watched a surprise live stream of Amanda Shires & Jason Isbell. This live stream delighted me so much that I said out loud, to nobody, “This is making me happy.”

But then the bad news, I got a text from Sister #2 that said they could come for Christmas from the 24th-26th and I was all, “Uhhhh. . . What?” I’d show you a picture of the face I made but you’ve seen enough of my potatohead lately.

So then I got to tell her I wasn’t comfortable with that and I thought it was too risky, which she totally understood but it sucked. They said they might still come to see Maxwell and stay in a hotel and. Fuck, man. I don’t want them to do that either, but not my circus, not my monkeys, right? At least Sister #4 agreed that it was an awful lot of risk to take.

After that I spent about an hour on the couch crying and petting Wendell.

Why does everything have to be so fucking hard all the goddamn time?
Jodi
 
*Practice is my favorite euphemism for masturbation from The Replacements’ song “If Only You Were Lonely.” I ain’t very good, but I get practice by myself.” My second favorite euphemism is chasing the unicorn.
 
**An actual word, archaic yes, but actual. Reminds me of the other night when my friend EM asked me what the masculine version of ballerina is and I said, “I dunno, ballerino?” And we laughed heartily because it was funny and later on in the conversation I looked it up and IT’S AN ACTUAL WORD. Then I made her tell me how smart I am.

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