I've grown to like "Cast of Thousands" more than "The Seldom Seen Kid". But then I've always wanted to pull my ribs apart and let the sun inside.

I've always wanted to hear Ethel Merman do a cover of "I touch myself" by the Divinyls.

This was "our song" back in the late 80s.  Then we kinda figured it was maybe not so romantic.

It is almost an insult to "rate" this woman singing this song. 

Ahh... some testosterone to clean the speakers of the Indigo Girls ...

The Count Five are more punk than your whiny emo band could ever hope to be.

Apropos of nuthin', I'm finding that scrolling through paulpaar's song comments is seriously entertaining, if completely baffling.  My favorite part is that he posts his rating in each of his comments, but has formally rated a grand total of two songs. 

Good stuff.

Every corporate drone in America with a used car and a mortgage was once a teenager staying out too late on a Tuesday night with a group of friends speeding down their town's main strip with the windows open and the radio loud, and when I was that teenager, "So" was the album in the tape deck. I sat in the passenger's seat with my right foot dangling out the window as my best friend drove. The girl he pined for sat in the back with the boy she was dating, my other best friend, and it felt more like a romantic triangle among true comrades from a French movie than the angst-riddled tripe you see on "One Tree Hill." When you love the guy your girl is dating as much as you love the girl, it's the definition of "bittersweet."  Whenever "Mercy Street" started trickling through the speakers of that old Grand Am, with its tender, discordant synths followed by the triangle, the atmosphere in the car was hushed. My pal turned the stereo up so loud we couldn't even hear the wind rushing through four open windows. Today, reinhabiting the boy I was, my heart swells like a sponge cake in my chest to remember how happy and at peace I was. We all knew the words by heart, had all read Anne Sexton just to better understand the song, and the unfiltered sadness we experienced from the beginning to the end of that song made us feel magnificently alive and vulnerable, and connected to each other.  What I'm trying to say is, I'm never going to finish this report my boss wants by 4:30. Not with "Mercy Street" playing...

Wow. You're not kidding. Here's one that caught my eye:

paulpaar wrote: 

Wow r u listening amurika?! You weak fat stupid amurikins. You'r e all f _ _ _ ed. I know thats a bit large but bascially amurika is a joke. Someone teaches me , "not all: there are good and bad." But Man, this country 's a mess. Hello? "amrikin Dreaming/ we've all lost the . . . ". Drug heads pigs slobs .. all of the above. eat chit amurika! so I like the lyric. they get my 7

Bill doesn't provide for decimals or negatives.

Apropos of nuthin', I'm finding that scrolling through paulpaar's song comments is seriously entertaining, if completely baffling.  My favorite part is that he posts his rating in each of his comments, but has formally rated a grand total of two songs. 

Good stuff.

this is NOT great! Its the lame kids of today. And they're from the land of milk, honey  and  insects where you can sleep in parks at night. get it?! A friend described these places as places of vermin: some  with six legs some with two. Seee: it takes little energy and verve and guts and schmaltz to survive in lands of milk and sunny. sad ain't it? Or is it.?

try some truth! but you are probably a kid too. So not now. Maybe in forty fifty years.. . .

Again: maybe the beef and good ice cream is depressing me. (The local sunflower food store had  a killer weekend sale and i bought it or rather the state bought it.)  .

Apropos of nuthin', I'm finding that scrolling through paulpaar's song comments is seriously entertaining, if completely baffling.  My favorite part is that he posts his rating in each of his comments, but has formally rated a grand total of two songs. 

Good stuff.

Love reading all the poser comments from the self-determined musical elite. Your pansy music will begin anew, fret not my little dumplings.  Viva Randy!

I love the Jennys. Ruth Moody could sing the ingredients from a shampoo bottle and I would give it a 10.   

This was Dick Cheney's favorite lullaby.