Quite the oddball Mini-Cine tonight.
The song was written in the mid-90s, cut a few years later, a mashup of sorts, not musical as much as intentional, the result of thinking about too many things at once.
Johnny Thunders, Kristen Pfaff, others well-known and unknown. Except to me.
The otherworldly skills of Gordon Jenkins, who could make you feel raindrops and smell a young girl's clean hair come undone.
None of these things make sense together, any more than clips of blues clubs in 50s San Francisco and colonial graveyards and trains under power lines. Except to me.
It's just memory. And regret. And joy. You know the drill.
Don't worry. It's only a movie.
Direct link to the video is here.