Another from the archives; Patterson Hood of the Drive-By Truckers at the Cat’s Cradle, May 2008.
Patterson’s long-delayed second solo album, Murdering Oscar (And Other Love Songs), came out last week; I’m finally listening to it and it’s fabulous.
Also, this is a film shot — and I’ve been missing film, lately. I’ve learned so much about shooting since I got Six, both emotionally and technically, and I itch, a little, to see what I could do with film, now, knowing so much more, shooting less blind. Especially with a camera less complex than Boomer, the Nikon SLR that resides in our house. I ache for something hefty and solid in my hands, making shooting more tactile than digital sometimes feels. I want a camera I could kill a man with, all metal bits and fixed lenses — or something at the other end of the spectrum, a cheap plastic toy camera, a little Holga or something like that. The weight, or the lack thereof.
Not that I’d use a camera to actually kill a man, but that weight. There’s something about that weight, a roll of film in your fingers, that I miss.