Echopraxia

I think I'll let that last one stand, if for no other reason than that I'm in no clearer a state of mind right now than I was then. I do have some half-formed thoughts about singers, and vocalists, and the way that an otherwise not terribly prepossessing man (who, now that he's grown his hair out a bit, bears an unsettling resemblance to Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban) can deliver a line in a way that just commands the attention of a room, whereas the fellow from Coldplay still, for all his yammering, doesn't really seem like he's trying very hard - but now is not the time.

Besides, I should shut up about the Mountain Goats for a while. To help me with that, I was just out cleansing my musical palate at a club, out there on the mean streets where the young people congregate with their challenging slang. We were entertained by a popular local beat combo, whose frontman was immortalized in the South Park spoof "Fightin' All Over The World."

This was about as strange as you'd expect. A review, of sorts, will follow when I'm sober. This should be tomorrow, although I can't discount the possibility that William Vollmann or Dennis Farina or someone will turn out to have an experimental oompah band playing in the neighborhood, in which case I'll probably feel obliged to go and get hammered at that as well.