And when he called me Ethel, I just called him Beatrice back

[sovay]

My computer remains on this side of the wall; i.e., it crashed fewer times today than yesterday. I'm still wary. Much thanks for movingfinger for all sorts of advice, some of which I am hoping never to need to act upon.

In similar vein, nineweaving has kindly provided me with a source of much new musical crack; current piece included. To my admittedly sleep-deprived brain, it sounds rather like what might happen if a 1930's big band crashed into a film noir soundtrack got tangled up in a Morris dance and the whole thing went out for piracy afterward. (Possibly with those drinks with little umbrellas in them.) And it won't get out of my head. I tried playing some Silverwheel and Demon Barbers to make it go away. No luck. Is this what is referred to, in learned circles, as an earworm?

I'm too tired even to answer a meme. This is a sad statement. It's pomegranate tea and bed for me.

Comments

[weirdquark]

To my admittedly sleep-deprived brain, it sounds rather like what might happen if a 1930's big band crashed into a film noir soundtrack got tangled up in a Morris dance and the whole thing went out for piracy afterward. (Possibly with those drinks with little umbrellas in them.)

Oh my.

I must really get a computer again so I can get my hands on that.

[rushthatspeaks.livejournal.com]

I have it.

[sovay]

Hope you like. I've realized it also reminds me a bit of some tracks on Cirque du Soleil's Mystère, but mostly of big-band Morris piracy. And given that they are an eleven-piece folk band, I see that I have some excuse for this other than sleep deprivation.

[sovay]

Oh, incidentally: the mystery of the coconut dance solved.

A wonderful tune with an equally wonderful name.  The dance employs coconuts in place of the more conventional Morris dancers' stick.  A similar dance is performed by the Britannia Coconut Dancers of Bacup, Lancs.

The Coconut Dancers of Lancashire. I think my brain has shut down in self-protection.

I hope to God this has no connection to Monty Python.

[nineweaving.livejournal.com]

No mystery. Just good old English weirdness.

They wear blackface, and hats like something from a Christmas cracker, and little skirts like Marvin the Martian, and they knock their coconuts together.

Nine

[sovay]

The poems read rather like someone ran them through the Cumbrianator . . .

(Yes, I'm sure I've just insulted two dialects at the same time; it's that it's written dialect. I rarely do well with that.)