Listening to local alt-country group Lucero before work today:

I'm just another Southern boy/ who dreams of nights in NYC. / Still I sing along ... sing along.

My tears don't matter much, / Don't matter much.Maybe it's the spare punk drive under this, along with the rasp-twisted vocals, and the rootsiness, but I linger over this line ( Read more... )

The day off was good.  The night before, Joe and I went up to our bar (Old Zinnie's) and splurged, played the video games.  There was a bit of tension when a guy came into the packed bar pretty late, obviously fucked up, and started screaming to call the cops, that he wasn't leaving. He kept pacing and had everyone on edge.  Buzz, buzz.  The cops ( Read more... )