September 23, 2003

Repeat repeat repeat

I saw Jeffrey Eugenides (author of Middlesex, and The Virgin Suicides) interview Wyclef Jean at the Knitting Factory this weekend with Maccers. (Choire has the account here.) We originally got the tickets because we both heard Eugenides read with Jonathan Franzen last year and thought he was hysterical. The interview was great, and Eugenides was funny as usual. ("So, Wyclef--when you were working with The Edge from U2, did you refer to him in person as The Edge? Or could you just call him 'Edge'? If, for example, he was hypothetically standing on the roof of a building, would you say, 'stay away from the edge...The Edge?'")

Wyclef's live performance was phenomenal. It prompted me to pick up "The Ecleftic"--his most recent album--and I'm completely addicted to it. There's a great track with Kenny Rogers singing "The Gambler" over Pharoahe Monch. "The Gambler" was one of my favorite songs as a kid and it still seems damn catchy. There's also a cover of "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd that I can't stop playing.

Posted by espiers at September 23, 2003 08:19 AM
Comments

Ah I want it too. Was going to buy it at lunchtime.

Posted by: maccers at September 23, 2003 10:31 AM

so, why were the two paired up? was there some sort of metaphorical connection between them? was eugenides a big fan? vice versa?

Posted by: rich at September 23, 2003 11:34 AM

Wyclef Jean's latest is called Preacher's Son. The one before that was Masquerade.

Keep On Truckin'.

Posted by: Jonohichi at September 23, 2003 11:39 AM

it was part of the New Yorker Festival. They had several odd pairings. it worked really well, though.

Posted by: Elizabeth at September 23, 2003 02:43 PM

You still buy CDs?
You gotta download. They won't bust you.

Posted by: Jason at September 23, 2003 10:58 PM

I bought Masquerade as well and I think I might prefer it. They are both fab.

Posted by: maccers at September 24, 2003 03:07 PM

Folks who love Wyclif have no music in them, only a prating guilt that they were born without reason, blood, or rythym.

They are, for the most part, lonely hunters of hearts in the cold.

Alas, Babylon! The hungry hearts will find half passion, and seperate beds, in the urban canyon of lost passion's memory of desire!

Posted by: Chalmers Russell Maxwell at September 26, 2003 01:19 AM