'Hell Bound'
There's a lady plays her fav'rite records/On the jukebox ev'ry day/All day long she plays the same old songs/And she believes the things that they say/She sings along with all the saddest songs/And she believes the stories are real/She lets the music dictate the way that she feels.
My apologies, SA. I have nightmares about losing songs.
My favorite Sparklehorse is the first one, vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot, which is a creepy stew of alt-country and psychedelia with brilliant lyrics. I get diminishing returns on subsequent albums, but all of them have a handful of great songs and the rest are at least good.
Cool. I'll keep it in mind.
I think it would actually be worse if I did know what they worse, the lost songs. Because then I would feel like I had to obsessively recover all of them, and that road leads madness.
My iTunes library went a little crazy not too long ago, and it "lost" several hundred songs. I still have all the music, but there's no way to know what went missing until I want to listen to it, and find that an album I know I own isn't listed.
Which is what happened to me yesterday when I checked to see if I had a certain Sneaker Pimps song, and discovered iTunes didn't think I had any Sneaker Pimps whatsoever.
That's not how you use a breathing apparatus!
Why are they entering a Benny Hill sketch in a song competition?
I actually like the song. It's a fun, mindless novelty. With a few too many obvious double entendres. (Check out "For Sure," for another example of their work without the double entendres. Another slice of fun, mindless uptempo danceable pop.)
On the other hand, whoever decided to take the "airline service" theme and run with it for the choreography should have their artistic license revoked.
Well, a naked anatomically correct chocolate Jesus does sound kind of tacky; however, Bill Donohue really needs to shut his cakehole and stop pretending he has the authority to bitch and whine for all Catholics everywhere. 'Cause he doesn't. Thanks a heap, asshat. Now (a) we look even prissier and whinier and hissy-fittier than we did before, and (b) you've just tripled or quadrupled the publicity for the stupid wad of chocolate. I'm sure the artist is thanking you, moron.
Though now I'm all curious about the artist. This sounds intriguing:
Cavallaro, who was raised in Canada and Italy, is best known for his quirky work with food as art: Past efforts include repainting a Manhattan hotel room in melted mozzarella, spraying 5 tons of pepper jack cheese on a Wyoming home and festooning a four-poster bed with 312 pounds of processed ham.
"Angers Some Catholics" would have been more accurate.
Why are we discussing this in Music?