Bobby Lightfoot's Week Of Beauty #1: "Cathedral" by The Ware River Club

Yeah, The Ware River Club. Another fantastic musical entity that will live on only through a too-short discography and ten miles of bad, bad road. I was blessed on an almost cosmic scale to play bass for these guys last year, an experience I wouldn't trade for six double-scale sessions for any tosser on th' charts. By then the band was already so far in debt that they gave me twice what they offered for the gig because it was just going in the Shit Hamper anyway.

Ware broke up soon after; there was really no point in continuing to rack up debt, you know? Man, watch it, watch it with the Taking It To The Next Level stuff, my young dearies. That's where your beautiful band will die horribly. I mean, do it, you know? But just be prepared.

I don't know why bands like The Ware River Club or King Radio or me or The Crystal Mittens or any goddamn amount of makers of bracing, beautiful music end up broke and starving and unsung. It's just how it is. We get the acts we deserve, I suppose. We get the acts and the politicians and the heroes that we deserve. That's why I popped that fucking Christer in the head with a half-eaten apple last month. But I wasn't going to monopolize that beautiful and righteous experience for Th' Orchestra. Let's just say th' Kingdom of Heaven is mine now.

So here's The Ware River Club's title track from their last album Cathedral that came out and ate shit last year. It's inspired by th' Raymond Carver story "Cathedral", if in name alone and it's so beautiful that it hurts. I can't listen to it right now because it speaks to me on such a personal level and I'm just not up for it. The imagery is so dirt-real and the central conceit of the thing is just so perfect and universal that it'll make you cry like a little pussy boy.

People are making art of such beauty that no one ever knows about. I don't want to know about it. I don't want to know how much great, moving, real, beautiful art gets shitcanned. I have my own cross to bear with this shit so I don't need to stack another Christ on it, dig? But people make it for you and me so we might as well take our fucking medicine.

Matt Hebert, the guy who wrote and sang for this band is still tooling around solo and his shit is appallingly gorgeous. I hope he makes some sort of noise but I'm sure he'll croak at 40 in some fucking gutter while Kevin Federline makes money. Jesus fucking Christ.

Anyway, this is supposed to be th' Week Of Beauty so I'll shut it and you can listen to "Cathedral" again.

Fucking Christ.