wow, i mean: wow... i've been an avid nico lover for years, having acquired a deep appreciation of her via some claimed proto-goth associations. obscure subcultural praise and all that velvet underground hoop-la aside, her amazing "desertshore" was proof enough that nico was and is a uniquely powerful force in life and art. but this "roses in the snow" diddy just floored me on a first listen. the revolving, minimalist tune of her harmonium must be the loneliest, most disillusioned harmony ever played since "gloomy sunday," and the cryptically profound words the closest thing rock'n'roll ever got to the "book of job." what does this piece really mean to say? not sure really: but somehow, i think it might be something like re-reading a long-departed lover's suicide note on a warm, languid autumn day...

The title track of Television's 1975 album is the greatest statement of their cumulative abilities as a band. A majestic epic of dual guitar interplay, metronome bass playing, unconventional jazz drumming, and the strangled vocal screeds of Tom Verlaine, Marquee Moon begins with a double-stop riff. A second tangled guitar weaves in, a bass thuds upward, and a lockstep rhythm forms behind the surreal lyrics. From the chorus to the long, flowing jams that follow the third verse, the guitar interplay between Tom Verlaine and Richard Lloyd amazes again and again. Instead of rhythm and lead guitar, the two guitarists trade solos and phrases, tones and colors. Even when Richard Lloyd plays simply, he dominates the color and tone of the solo he underscores, and when he lets loose a solo, it flows like poetry, phrasing and declaiming the beauty of the notes it contains. Band leader Tom Verlaine twists and curves his notes all over here, careening in on himself and threatening to implode before finding a perfect spot. The majestic peaks this song climbs to seem almost impossible, and it very nearly stumbles by running long. However, nothing can detract from the climactic jams that culminate in Tom Verlaine's singing bird-call guitar notes and gentle spills of warbling riffs.

Iggy sings about, what else, 1969. What an awesome way to kick off one of the greatest debut recordings of that whole decade, with kick-ass wah-wah guitar playing by Ron Asheton and a pulsating drum beat by brother Scott.