© Elvis Perkins*
First, I tampered with all of the successful elements of my debut, Ash Wednesday, that caused certain bloggers who shall remain nameless to positively swoon. I traded my singer-songwriter role for a band with obnoxious brass instruments like the trombone, which is only tolerated during Mardi Gras, and then only grudgingly.
The downfall of innumerable musicians of American tradition, I parlayed my reputation as The Next Dylan for several exposures on NPR, the great arbiter of urban cool. No one survives NPR’s stage-whispered faux punditry with any dignity and I knew it.
I started to believe my own manufactured press.
In place of my debut’s gorgeous, organic arc of ballads like “While You Were Sleeping,” “Ash Wednesday,” and “Good Friday,” I filled the enigmatically self-titled Elvis Perkins in Dearland with a series of barroom pleasers that served my backing band and hearkened uncomfortably to Bim Skala Bim. Even the disc’s highlight, “123 Goodbye” is muddled with a Big Finish.
My haircut got even weirder.
And I actually credited someone on the disc for playing the scissors.
That is how I released a piece of half crap. If by some strange circumstance or public radio-induced beat hipsterism you disagree, thank you for granting me this artistic license and please pick up a handy Elvis Perkins 100% cotton totebag at my merchandise store.
*Some celebrity posts ghost written by blog staff.