Song of the Day #693 – Slum of Legs

Can you hear me? Are you with us?

Are you an angel? I’m not an angel; I’m concrete.

Adjust the signal. Turn the dial. FOCUS. Not every room in the Velvet Underground has been reclaimed, renovated, and rented out to unfeeling young men. Not every psychedelic vision has been reduced to cartoony sketches. Fiddles can scream and moan and shred as fiercely (if not more so) than any guitar. Rock and roll may have died in the history books, but close the tombs and invent your own incantations, and you can channel the fiend yet, howling for havoc and blood to course in its veins.

Can you tell me your reactions?

It only takes a short while to get used to talking about someone in the past tense.

I swoon in awe and fatigue, fall on bended knees and succumb to the almighty NOISE. We seek the now because we want to live, we want to hit the vein of the pulsing world and feel that others live outside the sluggish everyday highway. We want light to pierce through so many fogs, through plying PR folk and self-absorbed NME editors and vanilla bands that network their way to the tip of your tongue.

And, above all, we want justice. New voices, untamed and untampered. We do not champion mediocrity. Slum of Legs stand tall and proud in the middle of their silvery tempest. If they continue to cast black magicks such as these, their might will enthrall multitudes.

I won’t let you get away.

(Here is the whole single. Buy it right here. Now, you cheapskate.)

by Lee Adcock

Lee Adcock is a strange creature, female in form, that hails from the gentrified wilderness of Madison, Georgia. Writing has been her one most outstanding talent since she was a tiny tot, so that's what she does. Lee's currently stranded in the ATL and writes for Creative Loafing, Drowned in Sound, and this here space, and DJs for Dandelion Radio. The only aspect of Athens she misses is the record store she could walk to where she used to hang for hours.

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