The Walkmen - Everyone Who Pretended to Like Me Is Gone...there's this new york i still love. this dark and dreaming city of young and poorly pin striped men. smoking cigarettes through laughter and beer after beer after beer until the terminal ringing of her last three words are gone and they can begin.
Gregor Samsa - Pseudonyms...the mourning of innocence happens every time. just as we expect it will. just as the shine of last night's zenith turns to sun and we are back home. alive and alone with the fragile hope for nothing more.
Sun Kil Moon - Harper Road...and sometimes it's just fine that way. hands tied to the wheel and reason drifting from the shore and into the heart of the ocean where leaden angels left their moans.
The Dismemberment Plan - The City...a gyre stretched without the prey to make this bird a meaningful metaphor. still we walk it. still we ride underneath it's tremendous wake and wonderful, temporal epitaphs.
Archers of Loaf - Web in Front...slip down the backbone and to the gin-soaked floor. the radio doesn't know whatever happened to the doughy lovechild. the song doesn't give a damn where his prophets got wasted and lent their talents to sin so long as there's a jaunt made up for offering.
The Dodos - Jodi...we can, if we want. judy eyed punch and clenched a fist. not of rage, so much as avarice had they not been at the door.
The Warlocks - It's Just Like Surgery...where there was the sweetest fucking catterwaul, there was a girl and she smiled and it was about as fucking good as it would ever be except one day they would be kissing and he could never drum up the right context to compare that to anything other than the first time he hid the sun with his fat and pale young fingers and thought, just for a moment, there was a reason to wink back at god.
By The End of Tonight - Tigers...even if it wasn't the best paper life he'd let it ride. some things are better left to chance. frail and combustible ends. fuck it. what good is breathing in the summer if you're bound to survive it every time?
Planes Mistaken for Stars - Dying by Degrees...but, in part, he cared. there was comfort in the answer, clearly. solace in the knowledge that he could rely on at least one thing as he stood up to face the world a man with nothing to lose and precious little else to prove.
Nomeansno - Rags and Bones...so why did he leave it alone? why did he pretend? why didn't he mention all his bright fucking ideas when he had a sober chance? i guess you could say it was a question of thinning the line between now and the beast.
Therapy? - Dancin' with Manson...if you ask, he might tell you his past is all paltry and shaky with regrettable interludes. don't worry, though. he may suggest some wrongs from the rotten pit of his temperate gut but he'll never kill again.
Rocket from the Crypt - Lamps for Sale...lights up ahead. you keep your story straight. if they come at me with that line of questioning. just tell them i'm a friend. scratch that. a drifter. tell them i'm anything other than the man you've met.
Operation Ivy - Big City...if you look real close on any respectable corner, you'll find his day etched there in the concrete. it was his medium of choice with one back against the wall.
The Blackout Pact - You Punch Me, I Punch You...pick it up, now, kid. there are mountains to move.
Sixgun Radio - Bring it Back...trace a circle around the pool of dead. they're going home, now. the stars are red.
The Black Angels - You in Color...he teeters from the steps and into the crowd muttering rituals that haven't meant a goddamn thing since his father turned his lank skin burden into a dime store mask.
Ampere - Mr. Suit...fuck you. i know. i know.
Les Savy Fav - Adoptuction...stockholm doesn't mean anything when you're neck deep in the lover shit and those delusions of intimacy.
Guns N' Roses - Right Next Door to Hell...his letter said something about freedom. from fear. from the casual constraints that'd kept him limping from the stage night after night with a migraine loud enough to crash the sky. we didn't envy him.
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones - Don't Know How to Party...we had it all. the joyous faults. time swallowing days and nights with the same wreckless fucking abandon. we were growing older. dumber too, perhaps. but we didn't care. the path was ours to tear apart.
Fuckin' a right, we did.