“I Have A Twin Sister Named Libby”

Or so my friend Chris replied, when asked “how he was?” by another friend’s girlfriend. It was not long after Chris (and that twin sister Libby) moved to our small town. I think we were freshman in high school.

I was thinking about Libby the other day. Paloma and I have recently started a vinyl collection (I think we’ve purchased nearly 250 in less than two weeks, so it’s been harmlessly obsessive). Anyhow, I did snag a copy of Supertramp’s Breakfast In America and, seeing the cover in detail for the first time, I could see that the waitress’ name is not Bev, as I had speculated, but Libby.

Chris’ twin sister Libby was a sweet girl; in retrospect, she reminded me of Talia Shire in the original Rocky, but with more whimsy.

Oddly enough, not only was Chris, one of my closest friends in high school, a twin, so were two of our closest friends, Tom and Tim. Somewhere along the line, we chose to rechristen them Smart and Dumb, respectively (they were both extremely bright, but Dumb was more carefree – actually he was more carefree than all of us).

Chris turned me on to a lot of music and he was amazingly ahead of the curve considering the limited access we had to civilization – it was forty-five minutes to a record store, radio in the Midwest was decidedly (and endearingly) Midwestern, and we didn’t get MTV ‘til 1984 (although WTBS’ Night Tracks arrived a year earlier).

Maybe not so strange, but many of the acts that Chris turned me on to – The Cure, Thomas Dolby, Cocteau Twins – would prove to be favorites of Paloma’s.

Cocteau Twins – Carolyn’s Fingers
I can’t recall the first song I ever heard by the Cocteau Twins – it was either Memory Gongs or Sea Swallow Me – but I had never heard anything like them. It was otherworldly

Thomas Dolby – Europa And The Pirate Twins
Thomas Dolby was no secret in 1983, but after She Blinded Me With Science, there was little interest in the man. But Chris incessantly played his follow-up album, The Flat Earth, introducing me to Paloma’s favorite Dolby – namely the title song and Screen Kiss. Europa And The Pirate Twins is an earlier song, but a charming and touching bit of nostalgia.

The Cure – Siamese Twins
Pornography was my first exposure to The Cure courtesy of, yet again, Chris. I never bought into the gloomy sentiments, but I enjoyed the music. My favorites were The Hanging Gardens and A Hundred Years, but until I post something about hanging gardens or a century, this track will do.

Concrete Blonde – Les Coeurs Jumeaux
I sucked at French in college (I mostly remember my professor playing Roxy Music before class), but I believe Les Coeurs Jumeaux translates into “The Twin Hearts.” Whatever the case, I’d loved Concrete Blonde the first time I heard Bloodletting and own pretty much everything they’ve done. Walking In London disappointed me, but this unabashedly romantic song from that album ranks among my favorites of theirs.

Chickenhead The Cat

I don’t understand cats. Actually, I think I do understand them which is why I am decidedly a dog person.

Not that I harbor malevolent intent toward felines. Paloma has two cats, Coltrane and Fat Sam, and I have come to be quite fond of both of them. I realize, though, that I could never have the same bond with a cat as I have had with dogs due to their blatant, almost brazen, indifference. They’re like an acquaintance whose body language says, “Yes, we’re interacting and – although I don’t dislike you – I don’t particularly like you and would not be the least bit disappointed if we never saw each other again.” I can get that anywhere. Why would I want it from someone I have to feed and clean up after?

I recall a time before Paloma and I lived together and she went out of town on business. I would make a daily visit to her apartment, making sure that the cats had food and water as well as spending a bit of time with them. Coltrane, especially, seemed inconsolable. I would find her own Paloma’s bed, crying, so I would pet her a bit and talk to her. For the next few days following Paloma’s return, my visits found both cats paying an unprecedented amount of attention to me. It didn’t last. They soon were ignoring me as always, leading me to suspect that their attention toward me was more a dig at Paloma for her absence rather than delight at my presence. Pretty dodgy, huh?

Then, there was Chickenhead. The windows to my apartment’s living room are easily reached by an overhang despite being on the second floor. One warm, summer night, I was sitting on the couch, writing, when a cat climbed through the open window, wandered about (indifferently) and left. This occurred several more times until one night when Paloma was there. She did the thing that I had purposely avoided – she put out a small saucer of milk. Realizing that he would now be a regular visitor, we named him Chickenhead – nicked from a Denis Leary bit involving the naming of a pet. Actually, I named him Chickenhead and Paloma kindly obliged me as the name made me laugh (I am, obviously, easily amused).

Chickenhead came around regularly for a few weeks, getting fed and receiving a bit of attention. Then, no more. And to prove my point about the indifference of cats, here it is a year later and I am writing about him while I know he’s out there somewhere with nary a thought of me.

The Cure – The Lovecats
This number is downright jaunty (particularly Robert Smith’s vocals which have an almost feline quality) – jaunty not being a description which I would have thought appropo to most of The Cure’s music. That is until I mentally went back over their catalog and realized, to my surprise, that they have more moments of jaunt than you might think.

David Bowie – Cat People (Putting Out Fire)
There are two versions of this song which I have. One appeared in the 1982 movie of the same name in which Nastassia Kinski frolics about murdering bunnies (OK. It’s only one rabbit of which she makes a meal); the other version appeared on Bowie’s 1983 commercial comeback album Let’s Dance. This one is from the former and has a nifty, smoldering intro and was produced, if I recall correctly, by Euro-disco-meister (say that three times fast) Giorgio Moroder.

Squeeze – Cool For Cats
Growing up in the hinterlands of the American Midwest in the years prior to MTV, it wasn’t easy to be exposed to new music and fringe acts. However, my friend Chris had an uncanny knack for turning me onto some of the most intriguing and beloved music of my formative years. Among his discoveries, he introduced me to The Cure with Pornography and the sprightly, New Wave-tinged pop of Squeeze with their compilation Singles 45 And Under. Good stuff.

Danielle Dax – Cat-House
I can’t recall how I found the music of Danielle Dax (most likely it was from watching MTV’s 120 Minutes one late night in college when I should have been studying). I believe most (all?) of her stuff is out of print now which is unfortunate because I know I lost a copy of her Blast The Human Flower disc (containing two favorites – The Id Parade and 16 Candles) when I loaned it out. As my Irish friend Liam would say, Cat-House is a corker. Well, if I had an Irish friend named Liam, I have no doubt that’s what he’d say.