Lungfish on Phantom Film
plus: cicada plague report
The cicada situation in Nashville is outrageous. The number of bugs (in the air, in the trees, dive-bombing the patio) is up 4x from yesterday, and it was already bonkers, near biblical, although clearly those guys were exaggerating the blacked-out sky when they saw overlapping broods for the first time.
I’m in the minority, but I like the bugs. They’re horny and hungry and having the time of their tiny lives. The sound, loud loud loud, is a new sub-genre of noise. The cicadas nearby are high-pitched, screechy, a million rattles on speed. The ones in other neighborhoods, the trillions spread around the city, resonate with a lower, buzzy, collective hum.
Speaking of drone music...
Lungfish on Phantom Film
Philadelphia mid-’90s
I spoke to Asa Osborne as he loaded his amp in through the back door of the bar. I told him I was underage and couldn’t get in. I was road-tripping with two friends, both over 21, both going to the gig.
He set down the amp, opened his wallet, and handed me his ID. “We kinda look alike,” he said. “Bring it back after you get in.” It wasn’t true, aside from us both being skinny, but the bouncer didn’t hesitate when he stamped my hand.
Daniel Higgs read lyrics for a new song from a tiny notebook he pulled from his breast pocket during the show. “Signpost” would soon appear on their excellent LP, Sound In Time.
The rear window of my red Chevy Beretta was smashed during the show, and my camera was stolen from the backseat. I’m sure of this, and I verified it with one of the friends who was with me. The mystery is how I took this photo. I searched my journal from the trip, but no mention of the camera, the window, or Lungfish at all.