records nom) record your sources 051001 ... ovenbird When I pull a brand new 33 from its paper sleeve I find, bisecting the concentric grooves, a scratch traversing the radius of Side A. But no, not a scratch…a gouge…a crevasse…a canyon…something topographical, a geological wonder made of music. I bring the surface to my eye, and peer down into the rock formation running through my record. I find a tiny world perched upon the sonic cliffs of the Cowboy Junkies’ Such_Ferocious_Beauty, as if the title dressed itself in fur and flesh, livery of limestone, raiment of river. I wonder if this is what god sees when she holds what she’s made to the light–all our brief lives ranged out over waveforms pressed into yielding shale, our songs made into mountains, the imprint of our voices spiraling. 260101 what's it to you? who go blather from