At some point today I went out to look at the those big panels of insulated plate glass and noticed that the grass underneath them had turned brown. I wedged my bare toes beneath the panel and found it was scalding hot down there. This, I understood, was real solar power. Once solar energy got through this glass there was nowhere for it to go! To save the lawn I had to prop the the panels up on wooden blocks. Now, with Gretchen's urging, I'm seriously considering reglazing my homemade solar panel with insulated glass. (It's currently glazed with the thin plastic used to inexpensively glaze greenhouses.)
In the mail today I received a CD called The Trials of VAN OCCUPANTHER by a band called Midlake. It's glossy high-production folk music full of creamy harmonies and unsettlingly nostalgic keyboards. Many of the songs seem to contain snippets of Fleetwood Mac riffs and production, although the lyrics are fresh and weird and totally new. The songs are written as if they're from some sort of gorgeously gritty lost age where roof leaks and construction techniques are worthy subjects for song. Even when it makes no sense, it's so well-grounded and wistful it warms you with sadness. Like Dark Side of the Moon and Under the Bushes, Under the Stars, it's great autumn music. Favorite songs include "Roscoe," "Head Home," and "Young Bride."
"Head Home" by Midlake.
"Young Bride" by Midlake.
"Roscoe" by Midlake.
Last week I'd mostly been listening to "Picks Us Apart" by the Jim Yoshii Pile-Up. It's also sad autumnal music, though perhaps more appropriate to later in the season. Guitars make sad little cries as the singer spins grim yarns of hope from wooly situations. I particularly enjoy "Jailhouse Rock," which opens this way:
The coroner threw a party at the county jail
It was bare lightbulbs and green concrete
Minutemaid and processed cheese
And I was the entertainment.
"Silver Sparkler" by the Jim Yoshii Pile-Up.
This evening before it got too late Gretchen and I went on a run to drop fudgey mint brownies off at the house of friend in whom a new lymphoma had recently been found years after thinking herself cured.
