PrettyFakes

Last night I was making a mix for a friend and started digging through some scans of older ones. Dr. Wagner has some I like a lot, meticulous Pavement boots that we shrouded in splattered red ink and ancient newsprint. The one I did last night was black and white photos of Tuesday Weld from a ‘64 issue of the Saturday Evening Post.
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My brother and I wandered into Tacky Jack’s 2 around midnight last night. There was a jukebox—a good one—and they had John Prine’s first record (as you are required by law if you are a bar in Alabama, or anywhere else with a shred of decency and taste), and so I mashed the buttons for “Angel of Montgomery” because, as I told my brother, that’s the first song you should always play when you walk into a strange bar.

As the first chords tumbled out a fellow raised his beer to us in a toast and we toasted him back. Everything went pretty well until the Jag’s selection of the live, symphonic version of “Battery” by Metallica scrolled up. We cured it with Creedence’s “Midnight Special” but you could tell the trust was gone.