Is It Any Wonder

Just watched Family Band, the documentary on the Cowsills.

Between the Cowsills and the Beach Boys, is it any wonder that family bands pushed onto stage by abusive dads lead to tragedy?

And that's not even counting the Jacksons.



(Although one of the Cowsills is married to one of the Bangles. So I guess the story has something of a happy ending...)

How Much Do I Love This?

A lot.

Just a freaking lot.

Something More Than In-Between

Probably Strange But It's Basically True

If I were a songwriter and all I had to show for a lifetime of work was this:



I'd be happy.

(And am I the only one who wants Marshall Crenshaw to cover this? Or Chris Stamey? Or Don Dixon?)

Craigslist Ads and the New Wave Songs That Love Them #13

Number Thirteen in a Very Occasional Series

You: the girl with the Polish dictionary, sitting at the Sidewalk Cafe in Venice.

Me: the incredibly handsome mime who had gathered a small but vibrant crowd just outside.

Your eyes met mine as I struggled against the wind and I could have sworn you smiled when I couldn't get out of that damn box.

After, I collected the money from the hat on the ground. You looked like you wanted me to buy you a drink. Something strong and Eastern European.

I walked away, not wanting to shock you with the existential problem of making small talk with a mime.

When I realized I was an idiot and came back for you, you were gone.

Since then, I've been haunting every borscht joint east of downtown.

Meet me on Sunday. I'll bring the pierogis.

Brittania Ruled the Rails

I can't embed this... but if you've ever wanted a tour of Swindon from Andy Partridge, click here now.

You're welcome!


But at least I can embed these:

For Your Weekend Viewing Pleasure

Because There Is Nothing More Punk Than A Banjo

Please enjoy Dropkick Murphys on Letterman from last night:

Born So Very Soft & Easygoing

Its Tentacles are Bland...

The dream was intense.

The events were not.

But the dream... it was intense.

And filled with danger.

Running. Threats. Malice.

Pure, unadulterated evil.

Oh, and fire.

Spontaneous, massive fire.

And I was running. Being chased. If I were caught... well, that would be the end.



I woke up sweating. Heart beating a mile a minute.

With one single thought: this was not my dream.

This was something I stumbled into. Something I took from someone.

Something that might have killed the original dreamer.

Because I wasn't being chased. There is no fire.

There are problems. And obstacles. And things I can handle.

I have an idea whose dream it was. But I'm not sure.

I hope you don't even remember it if it was yours.

I hope you slid into a different dream. A happier dream. A dream that made you smile.

Because if you did it would be worth my few moments of panic and sweat and heart palpitations.

My New Favorite Thing Ever

At least right this second.

Go here. Read this.

Do it now.

Thank me later.

Name that Accent

Where in the Hell Does He Think He Comes From edition

Seriously, who sings like this?



And what is this song about? Oranges?

MUSH

New trailer for M*U*S*H: