John Flansburgh is a mother of a guitarist. He's my favorite backup singer in the world (refer to "Hovering Sombrero") and up there with my top lead singers ("Caroline, No"). I don't know why he keeps writing egotistical, sentimental chaff like "First Kiss" and "Pet Name." I'm not averse to them, but he is rewriting the same songs and rewriting them again.
That being said, I'm very fond of "Narrow Your Eyes" because it's so sad, and "About Me" because it's so short.
You might be thinking that you're free
You might be sailing 'cross the sea
You may be staring at the stars
But you'll be thinking...
Around the summer of 10th grade, Bryan managed to get me Back to Skull about 5 days before it came out. A week after John Henry came out, I asked Beth and Jennifer whether they could believe I didn't have it. "No," they said together. The urgency isn't there anymore but if I pick up a new TMBG album, I become helplessly hooked for weeks. I do think their styles have grown a bit too far apart. They've become mature and prolific, they support each other brilliantly, and they can emulate each other at will, but at the same time they've lost their group sound.
I'm not pathological, but I'm borderline.
I want this:
Osusume: Mr. Bungle's "Super Mario Bros."
Ankeeto: Which do you prefer, Mothers of Invention, Mr. Bungle, or TMBG?
I wanted to write about other things, but it got late. Weekend, yay! I taught 10 classes today (Saturday), which is kind of a lot. I have ten things to do today (Sunday), so I'd like to forgo sleep. But I did that about a month ago and it wrecked me. (I skipped two nights that weekend, though.) I had a nap, though. We ate Indian viking at Shanti after work, then dozed like sea lions for 4 or 5 hours.
One other thing: For two years I got my news from wire and internet sources. Friends, there was a John Stewart-shaped hole in my heart.