Wilco

I'm stuck inside on a beautiful Sunday afternoon doing some writing for work, but at least I have my music (and Grady, of course) to keep me company. I wouldn't have expected this, but lately I've really been digging Wilco's latest, a ghost is born. It's a bit dissonant for my usual tastes and I could probably do without the song that features about 10 minutes of white noise, but otherwise with every listening it burrows further into my brain (I recently learned that there's a German word, Ohrwurm, which means "ear worm" and evidently refers to music you can't get out of your head). Plus I could spend hours trying to interpret the lyrics.

when the devil came
he was not red
he was chrome
* * *
spiders are singing in the salty breeze
spiders are filling out tax returns
spinning out webs of deductions and melodies
on a private beach in Michigan
* * *
there's a random painted highway
and a muzzle of bees
* * *
I invented a sister, populated with knives
* * *
I attack with love, pure bug beauty, curl my lips and crawl up to you
and your afternoon
and I've been puking