Let me suggest a microcosm for Camus' Sisyphisian universe- housework. Increase rock size exponentially if your home has small children. Any thought about the futility of one's efforts only leads to straitjackets, so I marched down to the basement and grabbed a random handful of cassettes to prevent any synaptic activity. Beginning with the making of breakfast and ending with the last scrubbed morning dish, tape sounds be doing their best to distract me from the final meltdown. Here are the ten best so far-

10. Thelonious Monster- Beautiful Mess- Tom Waits sings on this, the only production money that didn't go up Bob's nose or in his arm.

9. Tav Falco and Panther Burns- Life Sentence in the Cathouse- I own a cassette from Triple X Records.

8. SF Seals- Truth Walks in Sleepy Shadows- Barbara Manning has a beautiful voice.

7. R. L. Burnside- Mr. Wizard- "Snake Drive" is a monster, and it strangely drove Lucas to sing, "Do you really wanna hold my dirty hand?"

6. Roky Erickson- You're Gonna Miss Me- I finally got the Roky documentary today- a welcome release from Barry watch- why does anyone care if Bud Selig attends?

5. Andre Williams- Mr. Rhythm- it's never too early for "Jailbait," until your son asks what it means

4. Alex Chilton- A Man Called Destruction- "What's Your Sign, Girl" is the best 70's song written in the 90's.

3. Stud Cole- hello, dark and scary morning

2. Skip James-"Daddy, is that a ghost singing?"

1. Hank Williams- the perfect soundtrack to your dirty floor

Let me recommend a new punky type record to you - Eddy Current Suppression Ring outta Aussieland. These gents put fun and bounce into their aggression and, even more shockingly, groove. They ain't afraid to lengthen out a fat riff and let you enjoy it for awhile- they ain't afraid to let the punkers dance. Go watch this live thang and cry a puddle for your lost youth.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VdoVPmMTI4

Philip Larkin - Vers de Société

My wife and I have asked a crowd of craps
To come and waste their time and ours: perhaps
You'd care to join us? In a pig's arse, friend.
Day comes to an end.
The gas fire breathes, the trees are darkly swayed.
And so Dear Warlock-Williams: I'm afraid -

Funny how hard it is to be alone.
I could spend half my evenings, if I wanted,
Holding a glass of washing sherry, canted
Over to catch the drivel of some bitch
Who's read nothing but Which;
Just think of all the spare time that has flown
Straight into nothingness by being filled
With forks and faces, rather than repaid
Under a lamp, hearing the noise of wind,
And looking out to see the moon thinned
To an air-sharpened blade.
A life, and yet how sternly it's instilled

All solitude is selfish. No one now
Believes the hermit with his gown and dish
Talking to God (who's gone too); the big wish
Is to have people nice to you, which means
Doing it back somehow.
Virtue is social. Are, then, these routines
Playing at goodness, like going to church?
Something that bores us, something we don't do well
(Asking that ass about his fool research)
But try to feel, because, however crudely,
It shows us what should be?

Too subtle, that. Too decent, too. Oh hell,
Only the young can be alone freely.
The time is shorter now for company,
And sitting by a lamp more often brings
Not peace, but other things.
Beyond the light stand failure and remorse
Whispering Dear Warlock-Williams: Why, of course -

Despite my lithe frame and Euro connections, I'm the last person to look to for dance recs. That said, somehow, I can imagine Tuna boy lost in a deep X cloud swirling around the video secs/slaves at some Soho movengroove to the sounds of !!!'s Myth Takes. See, I can't even introduce the fucking music, but I'm moving through the kitchen with the boys' frozen pizza on kitty feet and an Astaire twirl. I may shop for a boa after this post. I'm thinking perm, lipo and lift. Discover the left coast of move. All that darkness and inebriation might make these desert face crevasses less horrifying. You know, hang around in the corners, lurking. Tuna lad, place your ears upon the loving vibrations of your d-load screen, lose yourself and then wait for the repulsed screams of your loving wife. Exclaim three times and please resume your grooving. It is your right.

According to an industry insider, Jimmy Page and Jeff Beck are going to tour as The Yardbirds this fall alongside founding bassist Chris Dreja and drummer Jim McCarty. The tour is said to kick off this October. It’s unclear who will be the reformed Yardbirds' lead singer (original vocalist Keith Relf died of electrocution in 1976). Eric Clapton, the Yardbirds' founding guitarist, has no plans to participate, according to the source.