Scott Walker Live on TCM

Some plastically-saddened quasi-t.riley says, insists, bays-out, "...please, sirs, madams, in Cm..."; then, revisting, revising, quasi-r.waters-style professional pessimism, with voice b-b-b-breaking, adds, "...in Cm9...just Cm9, over and over, long-windedly, extendedly, fixedly, endlessly, as some final statement, a resource for all the wounded of the world, a song, a symphony, a celebration of the vast, inexhaustibility of self-pity. Dig this as an ur-capitalist wallpaper; different shades, different prices. One size fits all; shrink to fit. All others will grow into it.