Stuck On The Mink / Valentine's Day

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, and I spent most of the day like this.

By the afternoon I was both antsy and thirsty (thirstantsy? This feeling...It's not antsy...it's not even thirsty...) so I decided to take a walk.

Bundled up, big gloves, on. Had to make a decision about what I was going to blast at myself for the first leg of the journey.

Walt Mink. Again.

I've fallen completely back in love with their record Miss Happiness. This is not to say that MH and I ever had a falling out. I didn't catch it on top of my girlfriend.

***Wait...I guess that, seeing as we speak a derivative of a Romance language, we tend to think of things in terms of their sex, right? It's a girl (not to say girl-record, or girly record, even though the bass player for the group is of the female perusasion - more on bass being the only instrument for girls in rock bands some other day) - the same way that I'm Mr. Wookies, this record is Ms. Happiness. (If we got married, I'd be totally cool with her keeping her maiden name.) So - actually, if I caught this record with my girlfriend, I'd probably turn into antimatter on the spot.

I didn't catch Miss Happiness cheating on me. We were hot and heavy during the summer in between my Sophomore and Junior years of high school. I'd be openly flaunting the warning from the biggest sticker I'd ever seen, which was plastered on the glove box of the blue '87 Honda Accord, diverting my attention instead to the effortless operation of the car's manual transmission by Utris songster/guru/guitar fondler John Patrick Hastings and trying to glean some of his seemingly endless knowledge of the backroads of Northwest DC. And smoking a lot of weed.

The neighborhoods were (p)lush. It'd always be around 7 and with the sun was waning we'd float uphill towards the gig. Every single Sunday before our weekly gig at the Grog and Tankard with the Crazy Crackhead Bouncer (whose famously lackluster efforts we applauded in our albums liner notes) the Iranian bartenders and our famously underage friends, Walt Mink blasted. Every week. I took her for granted. Let her slip away.

I never realized how beautiful she was, though, until yesterday. With headphones on. Fumbled through my giant gloves to play it on the return trip. Got home, picked up my guitar and knew where every note was. Played the shredding for Ester. "Interesting choices (for the notes to the guitar solo on 'Chowdertown')," he offered. Good enough for me.

The Mink did another good record, Colossus, but after MH, the drummer left to play for Beck. I think he's been on every record since. It's only the Mink I love on Miss Happiness.

A Swingin' Affair - Frank Sinatra
In The Wee Small Hours - Frank Sinatra
Songs for Swingin' Lovers - Frank Sinatra
Miss Happiness - Walt Mink

89 albums / 97 days remaining


***Totally unnecessary section. Avoid.