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Woah, Dude!

Father John Misty Reckons Lou Reed's Ghost Told Him to Remove Taylor Swift Cover in a Dream

*Hits blunt*

You wouldn't think there would be much of a market for Ryan Adams covering Taylor Swift's 1989 in the style of Bruce Springsteen. It seemed, to the bystander, like a triad of qualities that cancelled each other out. Yet, the internet has throbbed at each track released, so shows how much we know, doesn't it?

Since Ryan Adams released his cover album yesterday, things have gotten a little more strange. First, beard owner Father John Misty released a cover version of Ryan Adams' cover, but inspired by the Velvet Underground. To recap: Father John Misty covered Ryan Adams covering Taylor Swift in the style of Lou Reed. Interestingly though, despite being online for a little while, the tracks have been removed from Soundcloud. Now, it transpires that Father John, according to his Facebook, was visited by Lou Reed in a dream, and the late New York legend told him: "Delete those tracks, don’t summon the dead, I am not your plaything."


So, there's your reason folks, and who are we to cynically poke at its truth content? One thing though: you know when someone starts telling you about their dreams and it should be interesting because of how out there and fucked up it is - like when your mate takes you to one side at the pub and begins a ten minute rant about how he can't enjoy Paul Rudd films anymore because he had a horrible dream about him involving Freddy Kruger hands, innocent puppies, his grandma and the set of Home Improvement - but for some fundamental but inexplicable reason it always 100% isn't interesting at all and you completely tune out? Well, here's Father John Misty's long and detailed account of his dream. ENJOY FOLKS!

"I had a very strange dream that I abruptly woke up from around 3am early this morning. I was crab-walking around a neighborhood in New Orleans that, though it does not exist, is a recurring location in my dreams. My childhood friend Brian Kawamura was was telling me I still owed the tennis rental place $7000 when the French psychoanalyst Jacques Lacan was suddenly standing over me, saying over and over, “The only thing crazier than a peasant who believes he is King, is a King who believes he is a King.” He put one of those birthday Burger King crowns on my head and out of the clouds a sort of “Switched on Bach” version of “Ode To Joy” began to play. A crowd which had formed around me began to sing along, with tears streaming down their faces. The crowd was obviously hypnotized and I assumed if I crept away discreetly no one would notice. The earth become a sort of treadmill, and though the locations (The Great Wall of China, a McDonald’s where I had my 3rd birthday, the town from Michael Haneke’s The White Ribbon, Vignola’s restaurant in Rockville, Md.), “Ode To Joy” and the crowd remained all around me"

"All of a sudden it was time to soundcheck, which I was late for, and Barack Obama offered to give me a ride on Air Force One. He told me he needed urgent advice regarding some important policy decisions, and we spent the day in Hawaii playing basketball, petting his dogs, golfing and the like when I, gripped with anxiety, told him I really needed to get to soundcheck so we needed to discuss the ruling of the free world. By this time he had turned into an obscene visage of my Father and said, “I have one injunction for you, son: That you enjoy life. It is by this mandate that all is ruled. It is the true tyranny; the equalizing force that binds us all.” I jumped out of Air Force One and landed on top of this massive pink, sparkly, glowing blob that stretched for miles beyond miles, covering entire cities, and I had to keep gulping down chlorophyll because the thing was emitting insane levels of EMF’s, so my mouth and hands were stained dark green."

"Down inside the blob I could see thousands of familiar faces and one of them was Lou Reed on a catwalk hand-cuffed to supermodels who had adopted babies handcuffed to them and Lou said, 'Delete those tracks, don’t summon the dead, I am not your plaything. The collection of souls is an expensive pastime.' Then I woke up.”