It's already been one year since Jay Reatard died. That day fucked me up. His music moved me, and he had the trait that separates great musicians from the pack; he was prolific. I made a pact with J. Wilmes to see Jay each time he passed through town, and I saw him three times. Classic songs. There's "Screaming Hand." Jangly guitars open this bad mother, but then the chorus hits you with some flying-V noise and the poppiest chorus. But instead, I got a man with an empty beer bottle and a screaming hand. (Not on youtube- this is why I need a tumblr- nah fuckthatshit fuckthatshit, ya know the song anyway).
And then there's "Not a Substitute." Verse, chorus, verse, chorus, done. Seven words to the lyrics pack a big emotional punch.
PS - The new Smith Westerns record is hot hot, and I learned about them when they opened for Jay. Real shit, that is real.
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