Head Hunters: Herbie Hancock Classification: Jazz Release: 1973 The second of the powerful first triumvirate of my record reviews who by chance happened to have first been released in 1973. I don't believe in coincidences. My beliefs are also not beholden to your credulity. That sounded much more aggressive than necessary. Time travel can make me a bit jumpy. I'm sitting here in my little apartment, listening to jazz on vinyl, typing my thoughts out on a typewriter. The rhythmic hammering of the keys enriches, envelopes and experiences the oneness of peak hipsterdom. I have reached the summit to discover that the embracing and acceptance of the label is to truly become one with irony. By accepting it without shame, without irony one becomes irony itself. Sly embodies the Dionysian chaos that is so alluring to me in Jazz. I embrace the embodiment. I am writing poetry, on a typewriter, listening to jazz on a turntable. I can feel the mid-century mod flowing through my veins. The crystal ash tray on the teak side table has my favorite cigarette in it. My feet are up on the coffee table. It's from etsy, hairpin legs with a painted atomic age starburst on it. More mid-century than real mid-century. The ostentatious fluting on Watermelon Man overwhelms me. I am one with the vision. I write poetry on typewriter listening to jazz record smoking imaginary cigarette in imaginary room with feet up on imaginary table and newspaper in hand. This is what the vision says: it begins with the irresistible bass the the guitar oozes sex the horns are a'comin the horns, i'm a comin I pick up the cigarette, cinematically. The seventies, as constructed by secondary experiences hangs in the air, giving everything a hazy glow. I smoke the cigarette, cinematically because this is what cinema is. Vein Melter is playing in the background and I am sitting on the couch smoking a cigarette after a hard day's work. The record ends and my imagination is purged by the Apollonian reactionaries. It is tough to breath at the peaks of mountains. I have had my taste of vision. Remember the good book says, give us our daily bread; key word - daily. Let us end with a prayer: may the good Lord find gluttony to be a far greater sin than lighthearted syncretism.
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