A little love from Texas...

The first piece of music with which I'd like to rape virgin ears is a little tune that came up while talking to my house mate Peter today. He was reading a Truman Capote short story in which somebody says "might could". That seems like such a strange expression to me, and it reminded me of an epically absurd line from the Texas Tornado's "If That's What You're Thinking":

"Let's just say that I've learned not to gamble, when I know that I might can't win."

If you're not one to listen to lyrics--and I know most of us zone out at times--you should really try to listen to these; they're more profound than they sound. I mean listen to that voice. It's Freddie Fender, "The Mexican Elvis", and to rock such a weighty pseudonym so hard is to ball. And you can hear the sad words of a baller here, someone who is begging not to be loved with such elegance that you know it's not the first time he has had to ditch some Mexican beauty.

Anyway, this one's dedicated to my brother Jack, who instantly recognized the genius of this song, and of the whole self-titled album for that matter.

"Ya no quiero que te amo"

I hear ya, Freddie. RIP brother.