PRE-DURST

Fuck you, nu-metal. Fuck you, "modern rock." We're taking it back to when A&R agents got paid to watch David Yow knot up his weiner and I didn't know what a titty felt like.

Poe: “Angry Johnny”

I hadn’t thought about this song in so long, and then somebody stole my debit card information and used it to buy a bunch of pretend computer swords, and in the middle of scissoring up my poor little bank card this afternoon, pouf, it leapt unbidden back to me. The thing to remember about radio singles, trapped as we all are under heavy snowdrifts of web-streaming songs yearning to be heard, keening and pressing themselves against you from Google Reader, is this: When you limited yourself to a distinct set of “known songs,” those songs which favored topical specificity over, say, a vague “boy likes girl” theme — those songs will stay with you until you die, whether you like it or not. You will one day be seventy, or eighty, and you will hear a report from NASA about a new space station, and there, in the back storeroom of your mind: Dave Matthews Band’s “Satellite” will be waiting.

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