I don’t know anyone who likes John Cale anymore, but he is my Leonard Cohen. I adore John Cale. I would drink urine to spend a few hours talking to him. Oh, wait. I’ve already done that and all I got was a little gagging reflex.
The closest I’ve ever come to meeting him was hanging out on Caye Caulker with his touring bass player. I think we scared the shit out of each other when I actually knew who John Cale was.
Ahem. So. John writes the best songs about other people, like “Graham Greene,” “Marie Provost” and “Mr. Wilson,” but here’s one that makes me weep the second it starts (always the mark of a good song.)
And please don’t be mad at me, John. If you want me to take the link down, just let me know.
p.s. Please do not talk to me about James Frey on Oprah today. I plan to tape it so I can carefully measure how much I can stand to watch at a time. Also, I do not want to hear about Angelina Jolie and her stomach. I really doubt anyone else does, either, especially the attendees of the Global Economic Summit she and her posse of possessions are bringing to town.
Just listen to John Cale.