I retreated into music and books this month. The books I chose to help me find answers and a path forward; the music I explored to stay connected.
As usual with Januaries past, new so-called pop (and semi-pop) music oozed out slowly. Jazz, as is its wont, continued to issue forth like a live Sonny Rollins calypso solo. You will see evidence of such in my list, though maybe my perception is due to my leanings (jazz has been a more reliable stimulant to me than anything as I’ve grown suddenly into my sixties).
Also as usual, I am restless when it comes to formatting this blog, and this year, along with tracking my favorite new releases, I’ve decided to return to documenting older purchases I’ve recently returned to and the books I’m currently reading. In this post, I shamefacedly shine light on a few albums I should have pushed harder last year, especially one by the great Memphis singer of bluesy rhythm and blues (the blues? what are those?), Talibah Safiya. She has a new one in the February chute that I paid for the privilege of sampling early—see below. Verdict: it, too, is terrific—she has a gift for soft grit, something like legendary trumpeter Clifford Brown’s tone of “soft fire” (can’t remember what musician described it thus). The other most notable “coming soon” release is the product of the ever-sublime, ever-simply complex music partnership of bassist.cellist Tomeka Reid and guitarist Mary Halvorson.
I will always supply links to my recommendations. I would post a playlist, but I am not thrilled with the connections of any streaming platform, and, if the recommendation has a Bandcamp link, you can play tracks from there.
If the urge strikes you, check out my education Substack, The Overeem (Failed) Farewell to Teaching Tour, which almost always makes contact with the world of music even though I can’t play an instrument and I’ve taught English for the last 42 years. My other WordPress blog, the original Overeem Farewell to Teaching Tour, has deeper and broader reaches, especially as it traces every day of my final year of public school teaching (2012-2014) as well as my wife Nicole’s and my winding trek through peak COVID (March 2020-March 2021). For rock and rollers, it also includes school-related pieces on Dead Moon (played at my school), Bobby Rush (housed the audience at my school), and Chuck Berry (provoked a parent to question my principal about my morals).
Keep your eye on the ball, don’t turn away from life, and don’t panic. Freedom is a constant struggle, but it doesn’t have to be this horrible. Be the opposite of what they are. And get your feet in the street if the situation calls you to it.
Dr. Lomax and his combo continue to deliver spiritual jazz of considerable power—you can meditate to it, but it hits your body as well. His music is disciplined and devout, yet it celebrates and inspires freedom, not to mention the title adjective—we need all of that right now.
Other Favorite New Albums, January 2026
Julianna Barwick & Mary Lattimore: Tragic Magic (In Finé)
I shoulda had this up Friday, I shoulda had this up Sunday, but life, love, collegiality, The Pitt, stress, goodbye services (see a few ‘graphs below)—oh, shut up and get on with it, dude.
It’s truly been a bounteous year for music, and October helped. I was able to witness Natural Information Society’s “Perseverance Flow” live (it’s my single of the year at 35+ minutes) so I am a little biased about the studio recording, which will likely land in my Top 10. Right about when I was grumbling to myself about wondering if I would ever like fresh reggae-like stuff again, crafty veteran Hollie Cook dropped a nifty neo-lover’s rock album on Mr. Bongo. The thrilling but no longer living guitarist Pete Cosey makes a fascinating appearance on Melvin Gibbs’ second early-‘oughts extraction of his group Amasia’s work, and Tyler Keith, “The Richard Hell of the Deep South” (though now his leaning more toward Charles Willeford) also unleashed an intense recording from earlier days. Citric Dummies knocked out a brief but furious and funny hardcore album with my favorite title of the year. Robert Finley followed up a run of tough soul albums on the Easy Eye label with a defiant gospel recording. Sweden’s Sound Asleep label gifted us a collection from the archives of Springfield, Missouri’s The Morells (never forget Shake and Push!) featuring a heaping helping of Donnie Thompson guitar and gloriously corny songs—he is in rock and roll’s top five living plectrists—as a sweet a capella cover of a doo wop classic where he overdubbed himself as a street corner group. The magical Finnish guitarist/oudist (?)Jussi Reijonen released his second terrific album of the year, a live one in more ways than one. Sharp Pins, riding a wave of new power-pop bands, easily topped their earlier 2025 album with a kind of flowing river of catchy compositions (the structure and flow reminds me of Imperial Bedroom, though not the writing). R. A. P. Ferreira, a mic controller and writer who’s records are always interesting but sometimes a bit scattered, waxed his best slab in years. CupcakKe and Princess Nokia are back. Vernon Reid (last spotted on Swamp Dogg’s bluegrass record) still has plenty to say and play. If you dig the multi-national jazz improvising group [ahmed], you are gonna want to check out their pianist Pat Thomas’ new solo record. That’s just some of the nice new stuff to check out. Oh, and if you get a chance to see Swamp Dogg live (or take in his fantastic new documentary Swamp Dogg Gets His Pool Painted), do not make excuses: go. My wife, my friends, and I recently did both (I was privileged to have been asked to interview him post-film—a trip!) and it was unforgettable.
Allow me a brief tangent. One of my rock and roll brothers-in-arms, Bryan Stuart—we played together in each other’s first band and wrote a lot of songs that never got recorded—passed away in September. He was one of the most intense, most alive human beings I’ve ever been around—he challenged you to be in the moment. He’d been battling some demons for over a decade and they sadly got the best of him. If you’re a fan of garage rock or a long-time resident of the American Southeast, you may have seen or heard the bands he slung razor-sharp guitar and wrote for: The Angry Inches, The Ex-Impossibles, The Strychnines, The Ditch Diggers, Motor 76, and I think there were more (um, he also flew a copter in Desert Storm, an operation he had reservations about). I could not make it to Atlanta for his celebration of life, but his fellow guitarist and another of my best friends (all three of us were members of each other’s wedding party) read a tribute to him I’d like to share here. The structure may seem weird, but it was designed to parallel the insistence of Bryan’s presence, if that makes sense:
Reflections on Stu-Man
“What I remember best about Bryan Stuart is his intensity. Being in his orbit meant having a gauntlet thrown down before you. “Can you desire this moment of living as much as I do,” Bryan would seem to wordlessly ask you, almost bodily, vibrating with energy. His eyes, boring holes into you, seemed to declare the answer: “I know that you can’t.”
“Whether it was existing aimlessly with him in a dorm room with no plan (“Let me show you these nunchucks!” and feeling one whip so closely to my face my bangs flew up)—
or nervously heading out to find a party with him on a Friday night (“Tonight, I’m not taking shit from anyone and we are going to have a blast!”)—
or, completely broke, coming to his apartment for dinner—Bryan could be very selfless if a friend was in need—and having difficulty with his homemade spaghetti sauce, where he had split the difference between being a domestic and an outlaw by adding a healthy portion of Jack Daniels to it and you knew you had better not gag (“SO???!! How IS it??? How IS it???) (He actually turned out to be a great cook.)
or playing in a ragtag band in front of a ragtag house-party audience (“Hey, go put on that nightgown and come back and fellate my guitar! They’ll love it!”)—
or on an otherwise lonely New Year’s Eve night, drunkenly making up beer commercials straight from “Springsteen’s USA!” and throwing dead soldiers at the wall (“More pretty chords HAHAHAHA!!!!!)—
or talking music with him late into the night after he arrived by surprise at my parents’ house where I was staying for the summer and they hadn’t yet met him (From my parents’ room, 3 am, morning before my dad’s weekday work, my mom: “You guys need to shut up and go to sleep!” Then Bryan, practically yelling to me while lying on the floor with just a pillow in the strip of space between my bed and the wall: “No! Let’s listen to some more of these mix cassettes and make fun of Bob Dylan some more!”)—
or watching him challenge a fellow groomsman—East Coaster vs. St. Louisan with an East Coast attitude—to a Johnny Thunders jam-battle at 2 a.m. in the hotel room next to ours after my wedding reception (“Give me the guitar and tell me the song and let’s DO IT, man!”)—
or, just stopping by his house in northern Atlanta on our way to Tybee Island for the night to discover he had secretly arranged a partial reunion of our first band—Wayne Coomers and the Original Sins—complete with studio recording (he also, the next day, forced upon me—you could not say no to him—a VHS titled The Pirates Live at Dingwalls that’s still one of the shit-hottest live rock and roll videos I’ve ever seen, and it seems he did not leave it behind when he stepped on a rainbow)–
or arguing with him about existence on the phone for hours (“Name me one book, right now, we’re fifty-five years old, that’s gonna tell me one thing that I don’t already know that I need to know! Name me one!”) (He never did let me answer)….”
Bryan LIVED, a LIVE WIRE.
I don’t intend these memories as a critique. He upped the ante of the moment, and I was very seldom equal to the task, and he would be disappointed in me. That is not a bad reason to be disappointed, and upon reflection, given the stakes of life, perhaps I should have striven harder. Intensity in a person for living is a gift. And it is not easy, always, to be in that person’s company. They leave a mark.
Robert Frost’s epitaph is “He had a lover’s quarrel with the world,” and I think Bryan expected more of our world, sometimes, and that was not easy for him. I am always going to remember Bryan for his intensity, his upping the ante, and his explosive laughter and unspoken love on those very rare occasions when I was able to meet the ante.
I never raised it, that’s for certain.”
New Year’s Eve, ’88, Stu “showing me” an Iggy biography, probably saying, “Here, read this now, man!”
Our shared favorite bands when we were together: Dolls, Thunders, Stooges, Thee Michelle Gun Elephant (especially), Stevie Ray, early Thorogood (Bryan learned to play GREAT guitar faster than anyone I have ever seen), Stones.
On with the music–keep livin’, and look out for folks who may be struggling:
MY LIST OF AURAL PLEASURE January 1 – October 31, 2025 BOLD = New to the List ASTERISKED* to ***** = Damn good! to Holy SHIT! ITALICIZED: Excavations from the Past / Reissues
Sorry, no sampler because eff Spotify—buy physical and digital media, new or used!
Hi! I’m early with my 2025 blog update, but I ain’t buying anything Friday anyway (I hope it isn’t Bandcamp Friday). If you happen to be a new reader, what I try to do at the end of each month is highlight the new albums–or recently excavated older works–that I’ve truly enjoyed, that have kept me sane, that have moved me, that have challenged me, etc. etc. etc. A thing about me: I’m the kind of person who always tries to order something different on the menu every time he goes to a restaurant, and I’m even more that way with music. I love a lot of it, I don’t think in genres, I am fascinated as much by pure sound and mood as I am by conventionally structured songs and lyrics, and I see myself as a scout, a finder, a tout (albeit a somewhat inexpressive one, as I’d rather you sample some of this stuff than me try to tell you why it is so attractive to me zzzzzzzzzz). Maybe you should start with the album covers, the album titles, the label names–and recently I’ve been including a boo-hiss Spotify playlist that includes tracks from each work (if possible–I get review copies ahead of time, which I will try to note and which aren’t yet represented in “the stream”–and not everything is on Spotify, in case you didn’t know). Finally, IRL (I’ve always wanted to use that!), I am an English teacher of 41 years’ vintage (a lightly sweet grape Boone’s Farm ’84), and because of my love for reading and teaching novels, I prefer albums to singles–I want to experience an act’s whole world, not just a moment where maybe they got hit by lightning inspiration or just got lucky.
Each month I’ll add to the previous month’s existing list, and bold-face those entries so you know they’re new. Some items may disappear if they fade for me or I just glitch. I’m starting by listing them alphabetically until order of lovebegins to establish itself, which it hasn’t quite, yet. This month, FOUR asterisks (****) will indicate a few discs I’m really enchanted by, and FIVE asterisks a few discs I’m really really enchanted by. Eventually, too, I’ll separate the list into really new stuff and those excavations I mentioned.
I hope you find something below that makes your day and creates the illusion that we aren’t necessarily facing a barbarian takeover. Take a chance, why doncha?
THE LIST (January 1 – February 26, 2025)
Ale Hop & Titi Bakorta: Mapambazuko (Nyege Nyege Tapes)*****
Marek Pospieszalski Octet & Zoh Amba (see below): NOW! (Project financed by a scholarship from the Minister of Culture and National Heritage “Młoda Polska” & Katowice City of Music UNESCO) Note: release date = November 29, 2024
August was a great musical month for us, but new records had little to do with it. Chappell Roan really blew up–deservedly so, but too late for the 2024 list since her record came out in ’23–and I found out her parents were students at Parkview High School in Springfield, Missouri, when I was teaching there. In fact, I was her dad’s student council sponsor, though I don’t remember him very well. We have played that 2023 record a lot and can’t wait for the next one. We also snagged tickets to several concerts scheduled for Columbia’s fabled “We Always Swing!” Jazz Series–check out the schedule, which might be the best in the series’ long history and which was shrewdly enriched by incorporating the sharp ear and skills of Dismal Niche‘s Matt Crook. Also, I discovered a St. Louis jazz series I didn’t know about–it’s only in its 66th year!–and bought tickets to the on-a-serious-roll AACM vet Kahil El’Zabar’s show as well as Nicole Mitchell’s (the best album of her long career is listed below). I’ve built an asynchronous composition class for freshmen around Ann Powers’ alternate American pop history Good Booty here at Stephens College, student writing is just coming in, and it looks promising. Finally, I substitute-taught for a friend at Hickman High School, my old stomping grounds, and he allowed me to construct my own lesson to fit his objectives: we reviewed aspects and “non-negotiables” of poetry by examining the question, “Can song lyrics be poetry with the music and vocals excised?” Students vehemently agreed as we listened to a few songs; I’m usually on the other side of the fence there. I also snuck in a lesson about blackface minstrelsy; Missouri officialdom ain’t so fond of any kind of black history, but Hickman has always been a mental cut above the state it occupies.
OK, my favorites, with my commentary continuing to be limited to single–and I hope simple–sentences (* indicate older recordings brought back to the present in some way):
Melissa Carper: Borned in Ya (Mae Music / Thirty Tigers) – First full album by a member of the Wonder Women of Country Music (Carper, Kelly Willis, and Brennen Leigh) since their outstanding EP appeared earlier this year, and it’s a legit doozy, mixing witty originals with soulful covers of standards that aren’t actually country.
Dead Moon: Dead Ahead (Mississippi Records)* – I very seriously ride or die with Dead Moon, the last of the great garage bands; Mississippi Records has been dedicated to keeping all their work in print, and this was their final record, which I’d call autumnal except the Coles would return a decade later with the more explosive band Pierced Arrows.
Phil Haynes: 4 Horns or What?—The Complete American Recordings (Corner Store Jazz)* – I hadn’t heard of Haynes, received a physical copy of this three-CD rerelease + live show, ignored it, then played it out of obligation–only to have my doors blown off by the power of Haynes’ drumming and writing and his employment of some amazing horns (specifically Ellery Eskelin and John Tchicai on saxophones).
Ka: The Thief Next to Jesus (self-released) – The Brownsville, NY, rapper carefully–and lyrically–examines the minefield of Christianity many of us, but specifically Black Americans, are trying to negotiate in these difficult times on perhaps the finest of his many intriguing albums.
OKSE: OKSE (BackwoodzStudioz) – As with Superposition (see below), I am at the beck and call of the sharp-eared Norwegian music writer Christopher Monsen–I have even tried to coin the term “Monsen Bucks” to designate how reliably I shed dollars when he raves–who was the first to hip me to this Danish/Swedish/Haitian/American rap-jazz combo that lured none other than Billy Woods onto their fascinating disc.
Ryuichi Sakamoto: Opus (Milan) – I am not a classical music buff, but this is one of the saddest records I have ever heard, and I mean that as a high compliment.
Moses Sumney: Sophcore (self-released EP) – When I first heard Sumney a few years back, I figured him for a kind of innovator–of depressive r&b or something like that–but the words didn’t hold me like the music and his vocals, and they definitely do here.
Superposition: II (We Jazz) – Another Chris Monsen whisper-in-my-ear, this Finnish group is the latest Scandinavian jazz unit to make me seriously consider traveling to the region and exploring the clubs.
Cecily Wilborn: Kuntry Gurl Playlist (self-released) – This very solid album is not as raw as the title seems to imply, but it’s very high-quality country music with rhythm and blues flavor, Ms. Wilborn can sing and write fetchingly, and I’m intrigued that, though she claims West Memphis, she mentions zydeco and trail rides.
Kathryn Williams & Withered Hand: Willson Williams (One Little Independent Records) – I knew nothing about Kathryn Williams and, for some reason, despite enjoying Dan Wilson’s /Withered Hand’s previous work, thought another contributor might water his very unique yearning, spiritual thing down–but damned if this doesn’t catch me up just as short, and movingly.
I’m headed down to Bentonville, Arkansas this weekend, so I’m pushing this out a bit early. Why Bentonville, you ask? Yes, it is a corporate town of Wal-Mart’s devising, but the Crystal Bridges Museum one heir has established is the cat’s ass, currently features a Diego Rivera exhibit, and hosts The Roots and Congolese electronic band Kokoko! Saturday night, so don’t be so snobby! Northwest Arkansas is a GREAT place for all this to be, whatever the machinations behind it. You can tell, I know, that I don’t fully trust it myself, but it’s the only place I’ve ever seen a Black Power Art exhibit and viewed an actual top-flight Basquiat–with my parents, no less. So….
My big news is the return of American pop music scholar, composer, horn man, and occasional guitarist Allen Lowe to the record hop. Lowe’s probably best known for his fascinating book American Pop: From Minstrels to Mojos (other books of his that followed are just as fascinating), but his recorded output is very high quality, and his survival of and recovery from sinus cancer and related health struggles have actually helped propel him to perhaps his best composing and writing ever–four total discs worth. I hope to post today an interview I conducted with him recently in which he speaks of those subjects and many others, but the single-disc America: The Rough Cut is likely to appeal most strongly to those of you who are rockists as well as jazzists: aside from songs that range from raucous to reminiscent to romantic–with the blues always threaded through them–many feature the very underrated electric guitarist Ray Suhy, who’s full of creative and often explosive surprises and has worked with Lowe for years. Marc Ribot fans should proceed directly to this disc. The second set, a three-disker, is called In the Dark, Volume 1, and strikes me as not only a survey of jazz styles Lowe admires but, as Lowe admits in our interview, also a response–or answer, if you will–to what he has heard as a lack of interest and imagination in composing in current jazz circles. That’s not a small claim, but the range of structures Lowe leads the Constant Sorrow Orchestra through (both records feature a unit by that name, but on In the Dark the band’s much larger with mostly different personnel) is stunning. Three disks is a lot to ask of a listener, but they frequently swing–when they don’t, they do very interesting other things–and the playing is fabulous, especially by Lowe, who is truly on. You may have read keyboard master Lewis Porter’s Coltrane bio; he’s Lowe’s frequent collaborator, and on these recordings his playing is regularly eyebrow raising–especially when he imitates Augie Meyers and Jimmy Smith through a synthesizer. So…check ’em out, pronto.
Though I was a very early convert to Julien Baker’s writing (thanks to a songwriting former student), I’ve found it hard to cozy up to boygenius, Baker’s collaborative group featuring her good friends Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus. I’m not a fan of mope for the most part, and that’s how their early work struck me. the record, their new release, however, has stunned me. The writing is full of razors and barbed wire, which I don’t associate with mope, and I find it hard to think of a better time for women to respond to this world with songs like these. I can’t get enough of them, truly. When that happens, I buy vinyl for my imaginary offspring to enjoy after I die.
Without a doubt, much of the new additions here are of the jazz variety. I’d like to call your close attention to London Brew, a kind of tribute to/interpretation of Miles’ Bitches Brew by players you should know from that locality; National Information Society’s Since Time is Gravity and Fire! Orchestra’s Echoes, both of which evoke Northern Africa is an exciting way; the Ethnic Heritage Ensemble’s tribute to trumpeter Don Cherry, which continues a streak of fairly magical releases by long-time AACM ace Kahil El’Zabar; and that indefatigable font of pianistic ideas, Japanese pianist Satoko Fujii, who hasn’t let hitting her 100th album last year stop her from releasing several more already, including her fantastic soon-come solo album Torrent. She’s got an album at #35 below, Torrent‘s at #43, and her occasional collaborator, vibraphonist Taiko Saito, has Tears of a Cloud at #39. Those rankings may seem unimpressive, but folks, that’s out of a lot of records, and I don’t take the rankings that seriously (other than the Top 10) until November. Satoko is the bomb, as the kids no longer say.
Speaking of “The East,” if you are a fan of dissonant, ambient, and atmospheric noise, check out pretty much anything WV Sorceror Recordings has been putting out. I am definitely a fan of such stuff, and I can play their releases twice a day (especially when I need such stuff, the dissonance of which tends to calm me). Also, if anyone who reads this blog took me up on my strident recommendation of Les Raillizes Denudes’ reissued work on Temporal Drift last (and this) year, check out the reissue of Shikuza’s Heavenly Persona on Black Editions, which features several guitar eruptions by LRD’s Maki Miura.
It is obvious below, but I finally separated reissues and excavations from the brand-new work. Not that anyone had written in to complain, but I think it helps for some of us who are still obsessed with reaching backwards through the years (to complement our love and desire for the new).
New, Reissued, and Excavated Albums I’ve Found Most Delightful, January 1st-April 30th, 2023
Do you enjoy beautiful trances? These days, I do, and I don’t really like substances to help, because I’m old and fall asleep–which defeats the point. Musically, you’ll be hard pressed to find hypnosis as euphonic as Jeff Parker’s new album on Eremite or Patricia Brennan’s on Pyroclastic. They sustain like a mutha and they are never boring. Proceed.
The number of additions to this list may be a record for a month. Most are available on Bandcamp, today is Friday, and you know what to do.
I am sure I have mentioned Rod Taylor’s Brazil Beat blog here before, but I may have to send him a holiday gift, so many gifts has he led me to. Two cases in point: one, it is Joyce Moreno’s year–she has a lovely, dancing, swinging new album out at 74 and a number of reissues that may convince you (as she, with Rod’s help, has me) that she’s one of the greatest Brazilian singers of the last 60-odd years; two, check out Bruno Berle’s moody, eccentric, and brilliant new album, as well as an older one by Lula Cortes and Ze Ramalho that Berle’s album reminded Rod of, Solar Paebiru–I love Berle’s album so much that I did that old-school blind-dive and bought a hard copy of the latter. Woah. Weird and gorgeous.
If an artist has released 100 albums, that merits a sampling if one isn’t familiar with the artist. Satoko Fujii’s One Hundred Dreams is just that–an exciting, out-there record of imaginative piano combo sounds that will leave you hoping for Album 101.
Adeem the Artist’s second album is red-hot-off-the-presses and surpasses his excellent debut. It is surely the best autobiographical blue-collar Americana release by a non-binary singer-songwriter…ever. And also yet.
That damned SAULT crew! Just when I think (at least for myself) I’ve “cracked the code” and weaned myself off their mystique, they drop a bunch of LPs and EPs that are all pretty fair. I listed my two favorites here–one of which I immediately burned to CD for one of my favorite students this year with whom I’ve had two great spiritual conversations. But as a result of that sticky mystique, I’m still not sure they are the two best.
The excellent Pitchfork critic Sasha Geffen, author of the very-worthwhile Glitter Up The Dark, recently Zoomed with three-count-’em-three separate classes of mine (they’d just finished her book on assignment). He was terrific and very down to earth–more so than my students expected a critic to be–and I told them to be sure to watch for her work on the ‘fork. His first review after our visit (in fact, I think it went up on the day he spoke with us) was of a new work by a band I’d never heard of, Special Interest. Endure JOLTED me–musically and lyrically–and testifies to Geffen’s sharp ear, eye, and mind.
I have a weakness for Little Rock and Memphis. But I think in spite of that my judgement is sound on this list. A stunning number of powerful, varied, and interesting records have been released by LR’s Mahakala Records just this year; Little Rock’s Kari Faux is far from faux, and Memphis’ GloRilla has just become my favorite woman-wildin’-out MC. She is very, very Memphian.
I’ve had a very stubborn Springsteen block since those two records he released at the same time–it’s so stubborn it even prevents me from enjoying his older work like I used to. My wife has a mild crush on both him and Obama, so I ceded to listening to their Renegades podcast (I can admire them both, but that title’s a bit off the mark–unless they were trying to be self-effacing). I rolled my eyes when I learned his new album was soul covers (too easy and safe, I thought, plus the choice of material didn’t meet Cramps/Ray Condo standards, plus so many invitations to strain). Just listened to it this morning for old times’ sake on a long walk…and found it sweet. Nicole will like it, too.
Several cyber-acquaintances of mine are really writing well on Substack. When I read their work, I wanna just fold it up here–that’s how much I enjoy it. If you like this blog, please try out Christian Iszchak’s “An Acute Case” (every Friday–good idea, ’cause that’s a great day to pay musicians!), Brad Luen’s always incisive and witty “Semipop Life,”, and Steve Pick’s “Steve Pick’s Writing Place.” Then stay there and only come back here if you need to–those guys actually write.
Living To Listen 