Name That Feeling For Us

Maybe it's particularly human, maybe it's particularly male, maybe it doesn't matter so much--this desire to get at a name for particularly inscrutable ticklings at the back of the brain, the front of the heart:

What is it, that feeling one might be feeling after a nice slow glass of Scotch on a lazy Saturday afternoon, sitting between the cats, thinking on how big everything feels but that it's fuzzy around the edges and soft in the middle? The song that keeps playing in the head: "House of the Rising Sun"; the word that keeps sounding: faraway.

(Smartasses who answer 'stoned' or 'drunk' will be ridiculed and then ignored.)

Ninth Annual Husker Du Appreciation Day

Here's a pint in the air for Husker Du. (Sound on. Sound loud.)

No one, no one put as much melody to that kinda ineluctable buzz as they did.

Stay Puft

Bruce Springsteen: Marshmallow Hands?

Something So Strong

It's just so stirring and wonderful when the perfectly-appointed song swells at the perfectly-appointed moment onscreen: "Just Like Honey" at the end of Lost in Translation; "Be My Baby" in Mean Streets.

One fan's shortlist of killer soundtrack songs waiting to happen:
"I'd Love to Change the World," Ten Years After (Outside Providence shouldn't count)
"Velvet Waltz," Built to Spill
"Line in the Sand," Motorhead

Have at it.

Wowie Zowie

Our friend the King raised a provocative question yesterday: stripped of his supporting cast and costumes, is David Bowie simply a better-dressed Billy Joel?

It's worth some thought.

Here's Where We Get Shit Started

Right here. Right now.
Give yourself a primer on what we're all about over at the MYSPACE. Like, over and over again. And then some more.

We'll keep coming back. Stay tuned.