Once upon a time I was a music guy. I used to spend my spare dollars on the discount bin in Camelot music and I hade a huge tape collection (and even a few records). When we were going to have a party people would expect me to make the mixed tape. The world has turned a few times since then. I sold most of my cassettes years ago in the ville to Chuck Reinhart at Reinhart’s Music. He gave me a buck apiece for them and I bought a keg of Milwaukee’s Best with the proceeds.

Like many people, I have around a hundred CDs that I’ve gradually accumulated over the past fifteen years. I know the number as I just got a binder that holds 136 disks and I couldn’t fit all of mine. I noticed as I filed them by genre that none of them are new. The last two wide release disks I bought were a Sinatra compilation and an old Ella Fitzgerald Columbia anthology, and I bought those more than two years ago. Most of my new CDs that I buy come from bar bands that I actually go to see.

Every once in awhile I have friends who turn me onto stuff by burning it for me. One of my employees back in the book store got me into Chicane, Diane hooked me up with Sakamoto Casa, Royce turned me on to The Spaghetti Western String Company, Vanessa and Chris burn their friends all kinds of things including the recent Saddle Creek release Bright Eyes.

I am going through a lot of changes right now. I’ve felt really frozen for a couple of years and music is one of the things that I used to love and chase that just stopped mattering to me for awhile. So as a manifestation of what I am now calling the thaw I went out yesterday and bought a new CD. It’s a goofy and fabulous cultural artifact that I think you should at least hear once, if not own.

I was driving and decided to turn on NPR. Instead of the usual chat there was a song playing, something big band and familiar but that I couldn’t quite place. There’s nothing so unusual about a song on NPR, and I figured that the interview piece in which this song was nested would explain all. I actually didn’t have to wait for an explanation as I recognized the lyric – I was listening to a fabulous big band cover of Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Paul Anka has a new disk out called Rock Swings with some astounding big band arrangements. After the NPR sell I bought it last night for that one song and was rewarded by several genius arrangements. This is my new party CD. He takes few fast songs and slows them down to ballads, but for the most part these are very up swing tracks. The Nirvana cover is one of the best, but not the best on the CD. On most of the songs I don’t want to ruin the surprise for you, but if the prospects of a swing version of Eye Of the Tiger doesn’t have you off to the store, then maybe this disk is not for you. This is not just kitsch, these songs are very well arranged and took Jes and I from “no they didn’t” expressions of disbelief to dancing in the kitchen.

Yeah. Jes and I. She’s a good swing dancer.

We went and saw the new Jim Jarmusch film yesterday, Broken Flowers. I can’t do either the film or the Slate review justice, so go read that, it’s a work of art in its own right.