Morphine "Bought Myself A Steak"

For the last month or so, my Mother-In-Law has been ever-so-kind enough to pick up my two kids from their pre-school/daycare on Thursdays, and keep them for an overnight.

It's hugely fun for the kids, as they are often joined by other cousins, uncles and members of our extended/modern family.

And it's been lovely for my wife and I, because it has provided a little bit of space.  For one night a week, we're not rushing home to get dinner on the table.  Or fighting the long set of skirmishes that must be waged in the battle of "It's Time For Bed."  Or plowing through all that to remember there is still housework or work-work to get through before bed.

Last night, I reealllly got a taste of space, when my wife spent the night visiting her cousin.

I was home alone.

So what did I do?  I bought myself a steak.

My wife loves steak.  And over the course of our marriage (with some key instruction from Alton Brown), she has learned how to make a steak better than any restaurant I've ever been in.

But she hates London Broil.

Too tough, she says.

But the flavor, I say.

I never win that argument.

But last night, I didn't have to argue.  Not with my son about why he can't wear his Monkey pajamas, since they are inside the washing machine.  Not with my daughter about how the cat will not eat corn, so please stop trying to take it off your plate and throw it under the table.  And not with my wife about the pros and cons of London Broil.  (Not even with Mark Sandman---I don't like mushrooms on my steak)

I bought myself a steak and ate it in silence.

And that's as good as it gets sometimes.

Morphine "Honey White"

Here’s a reasonable request from a music lover:

“How about more Morphine!”

We were big fans of the Boston-based band, and we were pretty excited that this large, family style restaurant in North Carolina was playing something so hip on the sound system.

They’d let the album play through, but by the time our meal was over, the record had ended and the disc player had switched to something decidedly less cool.

Now, just because the person in the kitchen running the stereo is hip, I guess you can’t assume that the waitstaff is, as well.

Because when our server was clearing our plates, she asked:

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

One of my friends said, “How about more Morphine!”

The server started to laugh, then realized that we were not kidding, and got a cloudy look on her face, gave a weak, unsure laugh, and then left the table.

It was only after she walked away that it occurred to me that she probably had no idea that “Morphine” is the name of a band, and that we weren’t requesting that she bring us a syringe of heavy duty painkiller.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Morphine "Cure For Pain"

Here's another Weekend Post:


A friend mentioned that 15 years had passed (as of this week) since Mark Sandman of Morphine passed away.


And I thought of this song, when I was posting yesterday's tune. 


There may never be a cure for stupidity or apathy, but maybe someday, "there'll be a cure for pain . . . "



Hear the song on Youtube.

Weekend posts are a chance to revisit songs that have happy memories, not of anything in particular, other than just hearing the tunes.

Many of these songs were tracks that I played during my 90s stint as an Alternative/Modern Rock radio show.  They're tunes that I hardly hear these days, but are wonderful to revisit.

Click on the "Weekend Posts" label below, to see other posts like this.

Morphine "Thursday" & Cold Water Flat "Magnetic North Pole"

When you’re a DJ, sometimes the closest thing to heaven is a great segue.

These days, with digital songs and equipment, the segue is a little less of an art than the old days.

But the DJs who remember fading one song into the next on a pair of turntables know the joy of the smooth segue, and the gut-punch feeling of a car-wreck.

And if you’re a real nerd about it, you might even have a favorite segue . . .

Yes, I’m a real nerd about it.

My favorite songs to play back to back come from my old Alternative specialty show, from my first radio gig:

Morphine’s “Thursday” into Cold Water Flat’s “Magnetic North Pole.”

(Hear the segue)

The swirling horns and mounting feedback of “Thursday” that build and build into a rush of noise until there is an abrupt end and for a hair-split-second time seems to stop---in la petite mort fashion---before the machine-gun-fire opening drum blast of “Magnetic North Pole” is just . . . well, uh . . . let's call it climactic.