Let's ring in the new year with some embarrassments, shall we? Some people enumerate "guilty pleasures" but I prefer to steer clear of the term, figuring if the guilt is in any way genuine, the pleasure is probably not. My embarrassment, on the other hand, is personally manageable and legitimate content for public amusement. So the next few posts will trot out a few items I am embarrassed to admit I enjoy.
Item number one is an album I downloaded earlier this year. eMusic took note of my penchant for Bill Evans and dispatched an automatic e-mail suggesting I "might also enjoy" Jimmy McGriff. Beats me how McGriff's funky organ-grinding can be considered in the same virtual breath as Evans' ethereal piano harmonics, but eMusic's search engine located a winner: McGriff has been a pleasure to play on my little mp3 player as well as on the larger home stereo.
Do I hear you asking where, in all this, is the embarrassment factor? Well ... McGriff received my aural attention because he arrested my visual attention first and foremost. Yes, I'm no different from anyone else: I can be appealed to by the most direct marketing ploy in the history of man(sic)-kind. Here is the album cover that caught and held my eye. Groove Grease makes for pleasant listening, but in this house where the women outnumber the men, the title combined with the album cover is prurient enough to actually cause me (*cough*) a little embarrassment.