Empress: Vodka and the Verlaines
A slowly picked guitar and pecked out piano notes lay atop what a warm summer wind sounds like as you float with your ears submerged, your hair fanned like silky seaweed behind your head, in your neighbors pool. Your neighbor is in Arizona or Saskatchewan (you forget which) for an estate auction. Still you float, half in and half out of the leaf strewn pool, half in and half out of sleep -- and you have all you need: a warm pool, the keys to your neighbor's house, and the Empress song, "Vodka and the Verlaines", playing in your head. You don't know the song or the band, but somehow they are playing away somewhere behind your sun-stroked eyes, between your water logged ears. You hear a country tinged melody without the pedal steel, or Cat Power without the naked vocal emotion. You hear Empress, as a floating Smirnoff bottle flashes in the sun... just before it cracks against your skull.