WIllard Grant Conspiracy - The Visitor
This song still works. Get dumped. Lose your job. Sit at home. Do nothing. Have this song come on randomly at around 4 in the afternoon, when all your roommates haven’t gotten home yet from work, and you’re still alone, but you haven’t done anything, and the light is sort of golden coming in your windows. Listen to this song. It’ll kill you.
I’ve always been fascinated by the thought of people arriving, interacting, and leaving without talking. I had a friend who was gay that used to be able to obtain a certain type of interaction in this milieu by dint of a craigslist placement, but for those of us less adventurous, or more prone to sensitive types, it’s harder to come by. This song also sort of smacks of breakup sex, in a way, doesn’t it? And though I’ve often missed breakup sex opportunities in my life, I still think there’s a lot to say for it.
The Willard Grant Conspiracy. What a band. Came from our New England area, and at one point or another it seemed as if half of the Boston indie rock scene was in this band - one show I saw included over 20 players. The heart of the band was a large gentleman named Robert Fisher. They got huge in europe, and he moved at one point to Arizona. Though apparently his Wikipedia page says he lives in California now. Though WIkipedia also only lists four former members of the band, so who knows.
In any case, they were alt country, but sort of that Goth alt country - the alt country and plumbed the most meloncholy of the the older country that all alt country plumbed. What a sentence. Also is that the right spelling of plumb in this case? I don’t even know. Anyway, I always loved the most morose of the alt country. Tarnation was another one. Early Mojave 3 before the Brian Wilson influence became dominant. Big Star, even, in some respects.
