Say it ain’t so. Say it ain’t so.
I was cleaning my place tonight, inhaling the sweet smell of fudge brownies which are about to invariably equalize my workout, when I heard the unmistakable sound of Camera Obscura on the television.
Now, we’ve all experienced the horror of seeing (or, rather, hearing) a favorite artist succumb to television commercials. We were all upset with Peter Gabriel for lending “Solisbury Hill” to Cingular a couple years back, and we’re presently pissed at the Postal Service for lending the rights of their songs to UPS. (Yes, we all get the UPS v. U.S. Postal Service jab. It’s very clever; kudos to the advertisers and their limitless budgets.)
I know artists have got retirement to plan for, but believe me when I tell you that my soul crumbled a bit at the sight of a group of moms, strolling in the sun in high-wasted jeans, equally as sinful denim skirts, rocking tucked in t-shirts and twirling fresh flowers in their finely manicured hands.
Holy shit, Camera Obscura is the soundtrack for a JC Penny commercial, I say to Ethel Merman. Accordingly, she poops and I wretch.
I feel dirty. Thank god for the brownies. I now need the comfort food.
[Jam of the Day]: The Whitest Boy Alive, Above You