“It’s Frankie’s night tonight.” That’s the phrase that runs through my head whenever it’s time for the next Frankenstein’s Lab. It comes from “Sharkey’s Night”, the closing track on Laurie Anderson’s 1984 Mister Heartbreak – an album that I listened to repeatedly as a teenager. The text, I later discovered, is by William S. Burroughs, and it’s also him reading it:
Sun’s going down. Like a big bald head. Disappearing behind the boulevard. It’s Sharkey’s night. Yeah. It’s Sharkey’s night tonight.
And the manager says: Sharkey? He’s not at his desk right now. Could I take a message?
And Sharkey says: Hey, Kemosabe! Long time no see. He says: Hey sport. You connect the dots. You pick up the pieces. He says: You know, I can see two tiny pictures of myself and there’s one in each of your eyes.
And they’re doin’ everything I do. Every time I light a cigarette, they light up theirs. I take a drink and I look in and they’re drinkin’ too. It’s drivin’ me crazy. It’s drivin’ me nuts.
And Sharkey says: Deep in the heart of darkest America. Home of the brave. He says: Listen to my heart beat.
Paging Mr. Sharkey. Wife courtesy telephone please.
Another time and place.
