Desert Magic

J.B. Jackson once said that in regard to the desert and the mountains, “what catches our eye and arouses our interest is not the sandy washes and the naked rocks, but the evidences of man.”

Presumably, the Sprites would agree. Originally recorded as a souvenir of the semi-habitable regions of Nevada, their Desert Magic LP celebrates the “evidences of man” in the form of tourist-board mythology and showbiz hucksterism:

“From Southern Nevada, the Romantic Beauty of the Desert and the spirit of lively LAS VEGAS are captured for you in this recording of magic moments in entertainment as THE SPRITES perform some of their best.”

It’s a perfect album in its own little way, despite the off-the-cuff performances, the sloppy bouncedown, and the inattentive mixing. From the seedy menace of “Spanish Love” to the giddy percolation of “Midnight in Las Vegas,” this “UNIQUE GIFT, SOUVENIR ALBUM” presents the Silver State’s hotspots not as they might appear to someone who’s eating a dollar plate of rubbery scrambled eggs at a casino buffet that reeks of Pine-Sol, but as they actually exist in the realm of Forms.

I dislike Las Vegas, myself, but thirty seconds into “Midnight in Las Vegas” I feel ready to fly there and try my luck with the Martingale system. In just that way, each song is a promise you can’t stop taking at face value, no matter how many times you’ve been let down.


Spanish Love

Desert Magic

Midnight in Las Vegas

Somebody Goofed!

Thanks to inadequate foresight on the part of the good folks at WordPress, there’s no way to retrieve the comments we accidentally deleted the other day while trying to dig our way out of an avalanche of Tramadol spam.

For those who don’t know, Tramadol is a very dangerous drug made by and for the feebleminded and the sexually irregular. Clinical studies have reportedly indicated that it shrivels the brain and crucifies the liver, and is liable to make you break out in an oozing rash of superfluous nipples. It’s no exaggeration to say that everyone involved in its manufacture and sale is worse than Hitler.

The damage is done, and irreparable. Hundreds — or was it thousands? — of music lovers took the time to praise us for our efforts, and offer us money and companionship. But now their honest, thoughtful words are lost to posterity, because a cabal of unwashed foreign spammers wants to hijack our site in order to sell Tramadol to hillbillies and veterinary fetishists, and WordPress is asleep at the switch with an empty jug of moonshine at its feet. Call us sentimentalists if you wish, but we think this is unfortunate.

If you took the time to write a comment, we apologize! We hope you’ll continue to post here, and that you share our white-hot loathing for Tramadol spammers, every single one of whom ought to be tarred and feathered and then fired from some sort of super-cannon into the middle thermosphere.

On the bright side, we should soon have some news about the next Eabla release, so stay tuned!

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