Wildcats and Neighborhoof

Southeast Asia stood me for as long as it could. I'm Lake Highlands Sullie at the moment, where you can roll in the lawn. It is so much its own place that Richardson annexed its school system at some point, I guess so Dallas wouldn't get any ideas about teaching people.

I'm thinking on the nature and activity of a blog, considering the possibility that I can throw little, rolled-up anecdotes your direction instead of attempting short-of-breath essays. It is a blog after all. I could tell you that Friday night I saw Boom Boom Box and The Paperchase at Sons of Hermann and that Saturday I saw Fox & The Bird and Doug Burr at AllGood Cafe. And you can say, "I know those places." And that would be ok for both of us.

Boom Boom Box, by the way, ingratiated themselves to me based only on me remembering the singer to be a Mavericks fan. Strangely, the irrelevant pull to attend the show was vindicated by their music, which was probably something from the mid '90s that time wants me to forget, but I won't. Fox & the Bird and Doug Burr, by the way, had to labor in a noisy restaurant. It is offensive to me that people show up to shows in a disengenuous show of appreciation only to talk through the show while music sails, unappreciated, over their heads. I think Doug Burr sang several really important things, but I couldn't hear, so I'm not sure.

Currently enjoying Ryan Thomas Becker's new unescorted effort Neighborhoof, courtesy of the best friend anyone could have. I'm on track 2, already considering how this album perfectly illustrates the stupidity behind album reviews and their failure to approximate what happens when a good disc is spinning, so I'll leave you with pretty much nothing. If you've seen Ryan ply a six-string in person, you know to expect greatness and greatness is what's hitting my ears--track 3 now.

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