Mark Lanegan, RIP. Lately I have been thinking that I don’t want to write about music anymore. In part this is because I don’t want to be someone who’s work is one long reminiscence; it’s also because the circles that I am forced to write in make me feel like I am talking — well, muttering — to myself. But the powerful urge to reminisce keeps descending upon me. It feels terrible to give in to it– dirty almost. But I can’t help it. This morning, for instance, when I saw a post in my feed announcing the death of Mark Lanegan.
Did you hear the distant cry?
Did you hear the distant cry?
Did you hear the distant cry?
Mark Lanegan, RIP. Lately I have been thinking that I don’t want to write about music anymore. In part this is because I don’t want to be someone who’s work is one long reminiscence; it’s also because the circles that I am forced to write in make me feel like I am talking — well, muttering — to myself. But the powerful urge to reminisce keeps descending upon me. It feels terrible to give in to it– dirty almost. But I can’t help it. This morning, for instance, when I saw a post in my feed announcing the death of Mark Lanegan.