[lit-ideas] Re: Studies In Chicken and Whisky

  • From: "David Wright" <wright@xxxxxxxx>
  • To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
  • Date: Sun, 18 May 2008 23:01:44 -0500

Another flash of whiskey in the fire, much like many of my momentary, if
not momentous, favourites

Vocal talent: good
Writing:  classically quirky pop --  decidedly ho hum
Star quality:  (largely) gone in two years...how many of you remember


  From: Mike Geary

  I love Nellie McKay.  Have for about a year and a half.  Last year I
  sent Donal some of her songs and sent Erin the whole album -- "Get
  Away From Me".  Never heard what Donal thought -- he's polite, but
  Erin hated her.  She even went to a Nellie McKay concert in Toronto
  and threw paper airplanes at her.  Erin is so rude. Mike GearyMemphis

    ----- Original Message ----- From: AndyTo: lit-ideasSent: Sunday,
    May 18, 2008 9:45 PMSubject: [lit-ideas] Re: Studies In Chicken
    and Whisky

    Check these out.  Her name is Nellie McKay, these are three
    samples of her work.  I can't make up mind if I like her or not. 
    Supposedly she's all the rage at the moment.




    --- On Sun, 5/18/08, David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>

      From: David Ritchie <ritchierd@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
      Subject: [lit-ideas] Re: Studies In Chicken and Whisky
      To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
      Date: Sunday, May 18, 2008, 11:54 PM

      Critics may be unanimous that no verse which appears on this list has  
      more than an ounce of good sense in it, and that all of it is  
      certifiably green in the meaning department, but if we stipulate  
      this, where does that leave the poor sod who gets attacked for  
      mentioning that he puts ice in his whisky?  I mean he's sitting there  
      quietly on the group W bench, just sitting there with Arlo and a  
      rather large lobster, churning his words, and suddenly, just because  
      he's mentioned frozen water, hordes of pork roasters come at him with  
      ice picks. How much justice is there in that, I ask you?  About as  
      much as you'd get from a blind barman in a New England nunnery.   
      Maybe less.  Bloody minded is what I call it, just plain  
      straightforward bloody minded, like a Yorkshire pig with a hankering  
      for truffles, setting off for France, and finding after the  
      Strindberg roundabout--avoid that one on any bank holiday weekend is  
      my bit of free advice-- and turning left at Helium (if you see signs  
      for Misery, you've gone too far), carrying on past McGonagall's  
      Auction (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/scotland/ 
      tayside_and_central/7402920.stm.)  that he's actually got no idea  
      where France is.  That's not how we go about life down at the Salt  
      Lake Masonic.  Show me money and I'll show you people with a lot more  
      sense than pigs, people who know their ice cubes from their branches,  
      people who can tell you there's not an ounce of difference between  
      cold water out of a stream and frozen water from the freezer.  Water  
      is water and work is work and that's all I can compress into a  
      postcard-sized rant, so that's all there is to it.
      David Ritchie
      taking it home in
      Portland, Oregon
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