Aunt Morgan and the kazoos

I have so far refrained from making any statements about this and I know you're all dying to hear, but I do like old Architecture in Helsinki better than their newer stuff. Sure, I've jammed out to the Places Like This album and I went to their concert last fall, but nothing tops that old dreamy stuff. Today on my break I was reading Emily Dickinson poems from the "Death and Resurrection" section of my book and listening to the Fingers Crossed album and things were getting pretty transcendental. That's all I'm going to say about that, as I've already said too much, and I'm getting tired of reading music reviews as I feel we're all being a little silly.

WARNING: one from a collection of terrible poems follows.
It's dedicated to how much france hates me.

Some sit facing tepid ideas
stirring around pots of luke warm water.
I could luke you to maggotron heaven
despite your nukes.

Sigh-those same faces
all the names and the places and wet
not still in this
oh, not still in this

siphon a penny a day
but what do you have?
flair?





"The lady hasn't spoken, and if she had spoken she would have said something."
(The Dreamer said that yesterday)