Uno. There's a reason I never do a "best albums of the year" blog entry. It's because I end up discovering my favorite music of the year after reading everyone else's "best albums of the year." I would say I need to stay on top of it better, but I know that's not going to happen.
Anyway, so I see this band, The Whitest Boy Alive, on some year-end lists. Sounded interesting, but I didn't pursue it. Then it pops up into my iTunes "just for you" selections, so I give it a whirl, and . . . .
AAAH! Why didn't anyone tell me Erlend Øye started a side project? I swear I would purchase an album consisting solely of Erlend Øye sneezing, or making small talk with shop clerks. Everything he does is golden to me. So yeah, The Whitest Boy Alive, Dreams, is really sweet and it's too bad I didn't figure that out months ago.
Dos. My little brother is studying abroad this semester in Spain. He left last weekend and we finally got a chance to IM this morning, everything is going well and I'm so happy for him.
One of the first things he told me is, "my family is good, the dad looks like the head itchy and scratchy guy."
this guy
For some reason this made my day and I'm still laughing about it five hours later.
1 comment:
Ha! That cracks me up too. I'm just trying to imagine a Spanish guy with a gravely voice like Roger Meyers.
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