This song...it's plucked strings that hurt the fingers to listen to...it's sitting alone in a spooked-out empty room in an old house...it's a growl from the back of the throat that the voice can't recover from...it's one four-minute-long moan that you feel right down in the pit of your stomach.
Commentary on stuff I like, which is mostly music, but is sometimes, in no particular order, college basketball, wine, books, pop culture, media, weird business trivia, Brooklyn, good food, and other stoopid stuff. And sometimes, commentary on stuff I don't like, which includes but is not limited to, in no particular order, the MTA, rude people, too much work, and other stupid stuff.
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