I'm spamming my own blog, haha. It's been years since I've heard it but my shuffle played Janis Joplin's cover of Summertime and I've been tripping on it for the past hour, waiting for every inflection, every slur, e-v-e-r-y slur. If I could ever be in love with purring it would be her kind. It's probably my favourite version of the song ever, so much more powerful than the Nina Simone version, or the soundtrackish version that Colin Meloy did some time back. More chilling than the Miles Davis version too, but then with him it's the entire album that does the trick more than the song. The thing about Joplin, I think, is how in spite of the beads and the crazy hair and the hammy smile she could make a song sound like many more variations of itself simultaneously, you feel rather than hear her voice break and it's suddenly so much more than just a song. Uncluttered, stripped down, painful. That's more than a gift. Explains a lot, but surprise surprise, I'm unthwartable today and the living's so darn easy I could turn into a leech and still be happy.