We've always been all about the iPod around here. And today author Jami Attenberg stops by to share a little playlist love. It's hot fun in the summertime with Jami around — just look at the I melt with you cover on her book, Instant Love, and you'll get what we're saying. Hot. Hot. Hot.
So turn on the fan, get a cool drink and enjoy!
iPod Playlist by Jami Attenberg
The cover of my book is a melting popsicle, one of those perfect images of summer, so I’ve been thinking a little bit about summer in New York lately. One of the best things about it is walking up Houston on a steamy Saturday night, sweat dripping down your thighs, and there are people everywhere, dressed in nearly nothing, and everyone’s simultaneously thirsty and drunk, and you’re kind of late to the next party and you kind of don’t care, and then you stand for a moment at the stoplight and there it is, booming from the car next to you, one of those songs of the summer, and it kind of makes you want to grab the person standing next to you and give them a big kiss.
These four songs make me melt:
Ghostface Killah – Be Easy. There are a lot of curse words in this song, and I don’t care. This song has the magical ability to transform me into a good dancer, if for one shining moment.
Christina Aguilera – Ain’t No Other Man. First of all let’s just give Christina some respect because she, unlike most of her peers, has managed to rise above her trashy beginnings. I’m not saying she’s Princess Di, but at least she isn’t dropping any babies on their heads like Some People We Know. Anyway, this is jazzy and hot and sexy and if it’s not going to be trumpeted in every gay bar in the East Village at 1 AM every Friday night this summer then there is something wrong with this world.
Gnarls Barkley – Smiley Faces. What planet is Gnarls Barkley from? Is it the planet where Nina Simone lives in harmony with gigantic aliens that look like synthesizers and they ride down water slides together all day long? I want to visit there someday.
Lily Allen – LDN I love to ride around on my bicycle in the sun, and so does Lily Allen, only she does it in London, not Brooklyn, and she’s 21 and I’m 34, and she’s got a charming wisp of a voice, and I, uh, don’t. So maybe we won’t be friends after all. Of course she’s one of those huge-on-My Space-types, but we’ll forgive her that, because she sings, without irony: “The sun is in the sky and I don’t want to be anywhere else.” Precisely.