There's a certain voyeuristic delight in watching Nick Cave sing. The way the veins in his head swell with every enunciation you half expect him to have a massive aneurysm at any moment. It's a guilty, razor's edge thrill, like watching auto racing, or attending an air show.
On the turntable: Jimmy Smith, "Groovin' at Small's Paradise"
On the nighttable: David Frawley, "Yoga and Ayurveda"
On the reel table: "The Soul of a Man" (Wenders, 2003)
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