Month: June 2015 (Page 1 of 3)

Weather And Swimming

I think we’ve officially reached the point where I can say that this is a weird ass summer. At least weather-wise and so far. We are in week three of consistent storms, cloudy skies, and crazy temperature swings. First, we had a cool week. Then a very warm week where we had thick, nasty, Kansas City/St. Louis/Cincinnati humidity. And now it’s back to being relatively cool and overcast. Last week was one huge thunderstorm after another. Friday things got so bad that everyone’s iPhones screamed at them that we were in a flash flood warning. Roads were under water, rivers out of their banks, and other nonsense.

All that has combined to keep the girls inside a lot. It’s either been too wet, too hot and sticky, or just dreary and unappealing.

But here’s the thing: as annoyed as I have been with the weather, I’m hoping for one more night of storms tonight. We have a swim meet scheduled for the evening. We found out last night the team we’re swimming against has nearly 150 swimmers. Last Thursday we ripped through our meet in exactly three hours, which is awesome. But that was with maybe 120 combined swimmers. And since this is one of my required volunteer nights [1], I’ll be stuck on the deck from 5:00 until the last relay is complete. If it storms and they decide not only to call off the meet, but also cancel it since the holiday weekend means many folks will be busy or traveling over the weekend, I will not be disappointed at all.

Is that wrong?

Getting back to last week’s meet, it was a big night for M.. She’s gotten so much better this year. Her form is really good on several strokes. She actually looks competent when you watch her from the deck! But she is still rather slow and does not have the best stamina in the pool. When she hits the ¾ mark of a lap, you can almost see the energy draining from her body.

I love her enthusiasm and how she enjoys being part of the team. But I was both pleased and saddened a little bit when she stated her goal was not to finish last in her heats anymore. I was proud of the self-awareness that showed, and the way she set attainable goals. It hurt, though, to hear her acknowledging that she knew she wasn’t very fast. I mean, it’s kind of obvious, and she’s a smart, almost 11-year-old. I would have preferred she still ask me if she won her heats when she finished well after the other three swimmers.

I was timing last week,[2] and she was always two lanes over from me. When she swam, I kept one eye on her and one on my lane. Her starts tend to be slow, putting her in a hole from the beginning, so when she emerged from her jump well behind her three competitors in the butterfly, I shook my head and concentrated on my lane. When the swimmers reached the halfway point, I noticed M. had gained a ton of ground. It was basically a four-way tie. I started paying closer attention to her lane. The girls all surged and faded. With five yards to go, M. seemed to be in the lead, but my angle was bad and it was hard to tell. Worst, the girl in my lane was the closest to her so I had to pay close attention to my watch. I kept checking each lane, willing the other girls to take an extra breath or for M. to not take that last breath that would slow her down. I leaned way out, craned my neck to the left, and saw M. touch at least a second before the next girl. Not only did she win her heat, she did so in the toughest stroke!

When she hopped out of the pool I yelled at her, “M., great swim!” She said thanks and started to walk away. I called her back. “M., you won!” Her jaw dropped, her eyes went wide, and she said, “I won? Really?”

“Yes, that was awesome!”

She smiled proudly and darted away.

The night got better when her freestyle relay won their heat as well. At Friday morning’s practice, when ribbons get handed out, she came back with her first two blue ribbons.

The other two girls are doing about what you would expect. L. usually swims in heat 2, and can finish anywhere from first to fourth, depending on who she swims against and how many times she bumps into the lane lines.

C. is a bundle of unfocused energy. We realized about a week ago that she doesn’t breath when she swims freestyle until she’s halfway through a pool-length. And then she spends the last half of that length gasping for air, breathing on both sides as she flings her arms forward. Sometimes she kicks ass. Sometimes she finishes after the other three girls are out of the pool because her head has been out of the water and slowing her down for 10 yards.

If you could take M.’s form and combine it with C.’s energy, you’d have a pretty good swimmer. In other words, that’s what L. is going to be in another two years. She already is the only one who can do perfect entry dives to begin a race. She revels in competition and being physical. Like soccer, I think she’s going to lap her sisters before too long.

Our swim team requires that parents volunteer in at least three meets to time keep, manage the course, write on ribbons, etc. Had I known how big this meet was, I really would have picked a different meet for one of my shifts.  ↩

Man does it annoy me that we time every heat. First off, heats are hand-timed, so they’re inconsistent to begin with. Then I’ve noticed a lot of starters aren’t terribly accurate with their stopwatches. Finally, most teams do not post the finish times for all competitors. Instead of having two volunteers in each lane to time and record each swimmer, all they need are a parent from each team that stand together and call the finish order. That’s 8–16 fewer volunteers (depending on the pool and shifts) needed.  ↩


History is undefeated. Someone said that once, right?

And history won again today when the U.S. Supreme Court ruled that gay men and women can legally marry across the country. As much as scared old people and misguided middle aged and young people tried to dig in their heels, it was going to happen. A majority of the country supports gay marriage, something that seem unfathomable just a few years ago. Hell, it’s hard to get 57% of Americans to agree on anything. Did you ever think that gay marriage would be something that garnered Reagan in ’84 type numbers?

I say it was inevitable because, no matter how many moral, biblical, and ethical questions its opponents raised, like every civil rights battle, once the momentum began to swing that way, even if gently, there was no stopping it. Most people are for fairness. And denying folks who work and pay taxes and serve on juries and volunteer to fight overseas and run businesses and line next door and complain about the weather just like us the same rights we have was a hopeless battle once the general public realized that was our reality.

I’m very happy today not just for people I know, live near, or am related to. I’m also happy, and proud, of my generation. It is us, as we moved into middle age and control of our business, political, and popular cultures, who said, “Enough.” While we may not always embrace what is different from traditional “normal,”[1] our generation has made great efforts to moving our society toward being more fair. Several guys I know who were afraid to wear Levi’s on “Wear Jeans If You’re Gay” day 25 years ago are celebrating today’s ruling on Facebook.

And while gay marriage has often been considered a traditional, Left-Right issue, I know an awful lot of otherwise reliably conservative people my age who have no problem with gay marriage. They may come to it from a different angle than those of us on the left side of the political spectrum, but arrive there they have.

Certainly there are still a lot of people, of all ages and political beliefs, who think today’s ruling is an awful day for America. I hope they come to realize that the ruling is not about their lives, or about heterosexual marriage. Allowing people who are in love and make a commitment to spend their lives together the same protections before the law that hetero couples have in no way diminishes those rights. In fact, it reassert them and makes them stronger.

Love and history won today. You don’t have to like it or understand it. But it sure makes the world a better place if you are able to.

  1. My apologies for using the word normal. But I speak of mainstream America’s view of the LGBT community. I’m not making a judgement or declaration. Which I bet most of you knew already, rendering this footnote moot.  ↩

Friday Vid

“Coming Home” – Leon Bridges

If you haven’t heard Leon Bridges yet, you’re just in time. His singles have been thrilling the music world the last couple months and his debut album just dropped on Tuesday.
I’m fascinated by how artists make choices in what aesthetics they will adopt. I assume Bridges grew up listening to old Sam Cooke and Otis Redding albums. Any kind of pre-Beatles, pre-Motown soul music for that matter. While his voice perfectly fits that early 60s, AM radio vibe, it’s a big risk to think that might connect with the audiences of the second decade of the 21st century, where ears are more tuned to hip hop and a thousand sub-genres of rock. Then again, his all-encompassing vibe just might be aimed as much at the urban hipster, looking for something different to listen to, as a traditional urban audience.
Likely I’m over-thinking this. Bridges makes great music for everyone. His album is the perfect soundtrack to hot, muggy summer afternoons when you want to find a cool place to sit and relax for a bit.

When Good Plans Go Awry

For years I’ve been a Back Up Nazi. I let people know how important it is not just to back up the data that is valuable to you – photos, videos, music, important text documents – but to have more than one backup copy. One copy around the house. Then an extra hard drive at a neighbor’s home or bank safe deposit box and collect it every few months to update it. Or sign up for Crashplan or Backblaze and keep a continuously updated backup in the cloud.

And, I always lived by my suggestions. Two backup drives in the house, one on the other side of the neighborhood at my sister- and brother-in-law’s. For several years I ran Backblaze, too, just for an extra measure, although I ditched that last year when Amazon allowed Prime members unlimited storage for photos.

Two paragraphs outlining my backup system. Can you guess what’s coming next? Allow me to spell it out with an equation:

System adjustment + Drive Failure * Hubris = Catastrophic Data Loss

Long story short, as I was moving a bunch of my data around to a new local storage system, I briefly had only a single copy of my latest, most important version of my iTunes library. And, naturally, while I was running one more backup and went to grab my extra drive from around the corner, the drive holding that single copy of my iTunes library died. Died to the point I can’t access the data at all.


Now, this isn’t a total loss. I have a copy of most of my music that is only 3–4 months old. Anything I’ve purchased since then can be re-downloaded.

The big loss is all the metadata that died with that master library. Nine years of play counts, play lists, notes typed into the comments fields, all gone.

In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t a huge loss. As I said, I have most of the music files on one of my backup drives. And having used the Rdio streaming service as much as iTunes over the past three years, it’s not like all that iTunes metadata was the only record of my listening habits.

But, still, in the digital music age, where we can’t touch and feel and smell our music, they way we did in the vinyl, cassette, and CD eras, that metadata is one of the few ways available to have a relationship with our music beyond just listening to it. We can sort it, pull out the songs we haven’t heard in ages, track what we’ve listened to the most, and otherwise sort and sift through the bits and bytes to make it more personal.

For an hour or so after I realized I could not pull the data back, I literally felt sick to my stomach. That passed. Eventually. Sort of.

In a way, this comes at the perfect time. Perhaps, rather that start over with that slightly stale iTunes library, I should go all-in with streaming. Apple Music launches in just a few days. Between either that or my existing Rdio subscription, isn’t that enough to both keep up with each week’s new releases and access a deep collection of catalog cuts? I guess this is as good of a time as any to experiment a little.

So, use this as another reminder to back up your computers. And then back them up again. And when a hard drive gets over two years old, you should be prepared for it to fail at any point.

Sports Takes

Some sporting notes.

US Open

I rarely watch golf anymore. Mostly because I haven’t swung a club in over eight years.1 And when Tiger flamed out I suddenly had no real rooting interest. The wave of new, young players all seemed like only slightly different versions of the same guy. Which, to be fair, is always kind of the case in golf.

But I did watch healthy doses of Sunday’s final round of the U.S. Open. I always like it when professional golfers are bitching about the conditions at the Open, for starters. And the late start meant I could watch into the evening.

I was able to watch the last half-hour or so uninterrupted. Which was a solid 30 minutes of televised sports drama. Jordan Spieth has the tournament won, leading by three strokes with two to play. Then, suddenly, he’s tied with Dustin Johnson as he walks to the 18th tee. Then he calmly birdies and heads to the clubhouse to watch Johnson hit a massive drive and perfect approach to give himself an excellent shot to win, and a nearly 100% chance of forcing a playoff. So of course he three-putts to hand the Open to Spieth.
Wacky, wild stuff.

Like I said, I don’t know much about these guys. I know Spieth won the Masters but gets very little credit from other golfers because his game lacks any “Wow” factor. I know Johnson is engaged to Paulina Gretzky, has tons of talent, but may have some self control issues. But if those two, and Rory McIlroy, who I know plenty about, are always in contention in majors, I just might start watching golf a little more.

NBA Finals/LeBron

First off, a pretty entertaining Finals series this year. I love the way both teams made the most of their talent and relied on ball-movement, motion away from the ball, and outside shooting to win. And I really like how NBA referees call the game compared to college refs. There wasn’t a whistle every single possession and replay reviews were much brisker than in college.
I was pulling for the Warriors, because how can you not like Steph Curry and the rest of the Splash Brothers,2 but would have been fine with Cleveland winning, too.
Which brings us to the biggest issues following the series: the criticism of LeBron.
Man, people be crazy.
How can you criticize a guy who lost his two best teammates during the playoffs and still willed his team to a 2-1 lead in the Finals? A guy who was a triple-double machine in every game, often before the third quarter had ended. How is he supposed to do more than he did? Yeah, he wilted in the fourth quarter of game six. But it’s shocking he didn’t fall apart sooner given all he was asked to do. Replace him with a second-tier NBA star, and the Cavs were a lottery team after Kevin Love and Kyrie Irving went down.

But because LeBron isn’t the ruthless competitor that Jordan and Kobe were, because he seems to actually treat his teammates with respect and give them the chance to succeed, because he still has moments of humility. Because of all of that, and our Hot Takes media environment, he gets blasted for being 2-4 in his Finals career.

Oh, and it was very amusing to listen to the ABC broadcasting team tiptoe around the difference in the Warriors this year. Sure, Harrison Barnes and Draymond Green developed into key contributors. Steph was the MVP. And Klay Thompson rivaled Russell Westbrook for the league’s best sidekick.

But the real difference was the coach. Firing Mark Jackson, who returned to ABC, and replacing him with Steve Kerr was the biggest factor in Golden State’s improvement. I loved the way Kerr ran his team, made adjustments both within and between games. And I loved how he gave credit to his coaching staff for coming up with ideas for how to change their attack. As a broadcaster, you could always tell he had a great understanding of the game. It’s been cool to see that he can turn that knowledge into great coaching.

It’s a shame that Jackson’s presence on the ABC team kept them from acknowledging Kerr’s effect on the Warriors.

Women’s World Cup

L. and I stayed up to watch the sloppy 2-1 U.S. win over Colombia last night. That was hardly an inspiring effort. Although L. thought the whole thing was pretty cool. She put on her Stars and Stripes hat from her school program and found a red pompom she waved around. She also told me she was going to play in the tournament one day. Although that was only after she said she wanted to play in the MLS. I told her that was only for boys, which was stupid. Since professional women’s soccer can’t seem to survive in the U.S., why shouldn’t she dream of playing in the MLS?

  1. I gave my clubs to a nephew a couple years back. So even if I had the urge to go swing the sticks at a driving range, I have no sticks to swing. 
  2. And Brandon Rush gets a ring! 

Sunday Links

Happy Fathers Day to all the other dads out there!
Chuck Klosterman’s Billboard cover story on Eddie Van Halen made some waves this week. Especially when Sammy Hagar put a pointed rebuttal/response on YouTube.
I think we can all agree that Michael Anthony is the only guy of the first five to be in Van Halen that doesn’t seem like a total jerk.
Eddie Speaks

With the release of Inside Out Friday, ranking all the Pixar movies was a popular activity. Here’s one of those lists.
All 15 Pixar Movies Ranked From Worst To Best

Basketball on the radio doesn’t have the same allure as baseball on the radio. Still, a few times a year I find myself listening to a Pacers game as I’m traveling. Their play-by-play man, Mark Boyle, is very good. I did not know he tries to do something different each summer. This year, he’s broadcasting Cape Cod League baseball games without pay.
Pacers play-by-play man heads to the minor leagues for a baseball adventure

Here’s a fun music list for you. How a dream band from each state would look. Indiana is surprisingly strong, and that’s without Mellencamp.
What the Dream Band Would Look Like If Every a Member Were From Your State

For Father’s Day, a couple dad-related links.
First, Jason Kottke shares stories from his rather unconventional childhood. Which of course seemed totally normal to him.
Flying With My Dad
Last year the Kansas City Star got a new Royals beat writer after the great Bob Dutton left for Seattle. The choice, young Andy McCullough, won a lot of us over with his wit on Twitter, easy relationship with manager Ned Yost, and fantastic, old-school styled game stories. 
He shared this piece of personal writing from several years back this week. Careful if reading stories about fathers and sons gets to you.
Fathers Decade

Finally, Charles Pierce brought it strong on Charleston. 
Charleston Shooting: Speaking the Unspeakable, Thinking the Unthinkable

Friday Vid

“Gates Of Dawn” – Heartless Bastards

HB has been kicking around for a lot of years now. Each time they put out an album, I think, “That’s pretty good.” But they’ve never made my Top 10 album or songs lists to end a year. That might change this year, though.


Long-time readers of this site will recall, likely with great pleasure, my periodic updates on the wildlife around our home from years past. We’re in a bit of a boon in that area, so lets revisit that genre of post.

One night last week I was walking through the living room right at dusk and noticed movement between our deck and trashcans. Like so many times over the past 12 years,1 there was a big, fat raccoon slinking into our woods for an evening patrol. I called the girls out and stepped onto the deck. The beast turned tail and crept back to its hidey-hole under our deck, giving me the stink eye the whole time.

Now this was not a surprise. The usual entrance/exit hole under our porch has shown clear signs of traffic all year. But we did have to pull a dead ‘coon out from under the deck last summer, so we had hoped perhaps we would have a year off. We’ve had a raccoon, or raccoons, living under there pretty much every year since we moved in. No sign of babies this year, though. Last week the girls and I watched the video from about 7 years ago where a momma and five babies crawled out.

Speaking of babies, though, there are some of those around. Yesterday morning, as I stepped out into our sun room to drink my coffee, I saw a kitten on the deck. And then another. And a then a third. They were all pressed up against the house, trying to avoid the morning downpour. They skittered away when the girls came bounding out. There were still lots of ooohs and aaahs despite the brief glimpse.

Last night, as I walked by our front door, I saw momma cat lounging on our front sidewalk like she owned the place. Scampering around her were the kittens. Momma wasn’t real fond of the attention coming from our side of the door, so she collected her kids and took off. Although one kitten got left behind. Later in the evening I saw the lost kitten sitting on our deck, mewing nervously, waiting to be rescued. Hopefully it got found because the last thing we need is a kitten than won’t go away.

I think the cats could be hanging around because our front yard is suddenly full of moles. Or at least one very active little motherfucker. I think all this wet weather is driving the moles crazy. We often have a mole trail or two, but they generally stick to the safe areas back in our trees. If the cats can catch the moles, I might rethink my feelings on them.

Raccoons, cats, and moles. And you think my life isn’t exciting.

  1. Facebook friends may have seen my post noting that we drove from our old apartments in Kansas City to our new home in Indianapolis 12 years ago yesterday.  

Change of Seasons

The Stanley Cup playoffs ended Monday night and the NBA Finals wrapped up last night.1 Winter sports are finally over! Our family’s sports are in transition, too.

Softball finally came to an end last week, albeit an earlier-than-expected one. C.’s team dropped their opening game of the tournament by four runs. They were down by 10 runs early, cut it to one in the 5th, but had the wrong part of the lineup up in the 6th and couldn’t get over the hump. It was a bummer because they had pounded the team they lost to two of the three times they played in the regular season. But, to be honest, I think a lot of the parents were not too upset that the season ended.

C. had a mixed night, too. She went 3-6 the three strikeouts. But she made two fine plays in the field. On one, she was playing third and the pitcher’s helper threw her the ball trying to get a force out. C. got her foot on the bag, stretched for the throw, and somehow hung onto it. After the umpire signaled “Out,” C. looked around it utter, delighted, disbelief that she had held onto the ball.

She really enjoyed playing her first year of softball. I didn’t start keeping track of her hitting stats until several games into the season, but by my unofficial count, she went 34-44 over the last two-thirds of the season. She had a 17 at-bat streak without making an out. She had a 6-7 game. She began the year deep into the lineup and ended the year hitting cleanup. Not bad for never having played before.

Two nights later the girls had their first swim meet of the year, an intrasquad meet to get times in the book for putting kids in the proper heats going forward. L. won two of her races, and would have won the backstroke too if she hadn’t stopped three times and looked to see how far she had to go. But winning is relative in Under 6; she may have had a year on some of the kids she swam against.

M. and C. are in the same age group this year. With only their team on the deck, that presented chances for them to swim against and with each other. In the butterfly, they were in the same heat with one lane between them. When they realized they would be swimming against each other, M. got a goofy grin on her face and C. started talking smack about how she was going to beat her big sister. In her eagerness, C. jumped in well before the starting beep. She didn’t hesitate, though, and built a quick lead on M. even as the other two swimmers left them behind. M. slowly closed the distance and they touched the wall together. A tie for last! Good times!

The girls also swam, together in the freestyle relay. M. led off with C. second. As M. approached the wall, C. waved her arms for her to swim faster. Then, when M. touched, C. just stood there and talked to her. After about five seconds she realized she had to swim, too, and jumped in. Fortunately legs three and four were fast girls and they salvaged third place.

Our first real meet is tomorrow, weather permitting. And Mother Nature has been kind of a bitch lately, so odds are it will either storm and rain the meet out, or be oppressively hot and humid. Or both.

  1. Doesn’t hockey start training camp in another week or so? 

The War On Drugs, Indianapolis, 6-12-15


Wide awake
I rearrange the way I listen in the dark
Dreaming of starting up again

Perhaps because I go to so few concerts, I approach them with a sense of trepidation. Will the singer be in good vocal form tonight? Will a mercurial band member be in a bad place and bring the whole group’s energy down? Will the sound be bad? Will the crowd suck, and the band not push forward because of the lack of energy and love coming toward them?

So when I catch a band on a night when nearly everything is perfect, it feels like a moment of pure, magical joy.

That’s how I felt Friday evening watching The War On Drugs.

From the moment the band stepped on stage, you could tell that they are in that magical[1] place where everything has come together for them. They’ve been touring for well over a year, and are locked in as well as can be. They’ve appeared in big festivals and in small clubs. They’ve been on Letterman, Conan, Kimmel, and Ellen. They’ve received loads of adulation from the press and fans alike. Their confidence has never been higher. When they roared into “Arms Like Boulders” to open the show, any fears I had of a disappointing even sailed away.

Man, were they on fire. I don’t know if lead singer/guitarist Adam Granduciel was angry or just loaded with energy, but he absolutely shredded every guitar solo through the 15-song set. Even slower, more contemplative songs got extended, loud solos.

But there was no negative energy coming from Granduciel. He warmly greeted the crowd when he took the stage, saying he had had “many, many good nights in Indiana.” Late in the show, he dedicated “Eyes To The Wind” to “our friends in Bloomington,” home of Secretly Canadian records, the label that launched the band and held their contract until a week ago, when Atlantic Records snapped them up.

It felt like a night where he was saying both goodbye and thank you to the Secretly Canadian folks, and was sparing no effort to show how far he and his band had come since their first album back in 2008.

The crowd was fantastic. The Indianapolis Star said the show was sold out. I don’t know about that, but The Vogue was the most packed I’ve ever seen it.[2] I expected the club to be filled with white guys between 35 and 50. And there were a lot of us. But there were also a lot of kids in their 20s and plenty of women who were singing along to the band’s most well-known songs. There were roars from the folks up front when a familiar opening riff rippled out from the amps. Fists were thrown into the air during particularly powerful lyrics. And each massive, sweaty, song-closing solo was greeted with load shouts of approval.

The best songs of the night were simply sublime. “Burning” was as glorious and emancipating as it sounds on Lost In The Dream. “An Ocean In Between The Waves” turned into a nearly 10-minute jam that threatened to blow the roof off the joint.[3] “In Reverse,” is live as it is on the album: perfect.

There was only one disappointment on the night. I had hoped the band would play “Brothers,” a fantastic track from their 2011 album Slave Ambient. I had checked online set lists sites and did not see that they had been playing it this year. So I was thrilled when Granduciel strummed the opening riffs. However, the beautiful, hazy, meandering, folksy sound of the album version did not translate well to the stage. I don’t know if they were rusty at it, or if the depth of the album version is a product of multi-tracking and layering that simply can’t be repeated live.

Oh, and I was annoyed by some people around me who stood around and talked during every song. First off, I can’t hear anyone next to me talking while at a concert. I don’t know how they can carry on a conversation. Second, I’m not dropping $25 on a ticket so I can stand around and talk about how shitty my work week was for 90 minutes.

Concerts, when at their finest, are acts of communion. People gather from afar to worship the mysteries of music together. I know this sounds weird, but despite being nearly 44-years-old, I felt like one of those disaffected teenagers who discovers music that speaks to him and is amazed that there are others who appreciate it as well. Despite reading the flood of positive press for TWOD over the past year, I’ve only heard their songs on local radio here once or twice in that span. So it was a surprise to watch them play along with nearly a thousand other people, most of whom also knew the words and melodies and DNA of each song. I stood in my spot well back in the theater, with a clear view of the stage, and soaked it all in. Most of the time I think I had a big grin on my face. Not just because the music and energy were great, but because I realized I was not alone in my love for TWOD. I didn’t high five any strangers or stay after the show to trade stories of favorite songs or other bands I like with people I had just met. But I did take great pleasure in knowing there are a lot of other people out there who have been affected by The War On Drugs music as much as I have.

There are only a handful of bands I’m interested in seeing live anymore. And many of them are bands that tend to skip over Indianapolis and hit Louisville, Cincinnati, or Columbus on their way to Chicago. The War On Drugs squeezed in their Indy show the night before their Bonnaroo set, likely as a favor to their (now old) record company in Bloomington. I’m so glad they made the stop.

Set List:
“Arms Like Boulders”
“Comin’ Through”
“Baby Missiles”
“Buenos Aires Beach”
“An Ocean in Between the Waves”
“Best Night”
“Red Eyes”
“Eyes to the Wind”
“Under the Pressure”
“In Reverse”
“It’s Your Destiny”
“Lost in the Dream”
“I Was There”

  1. There’s that word again.  ↩
  2. Again, very small sample size here.  ↩
  3. EVERY music critic who lauded Lost In The Dream last year talked about how amazing the second solo in “Ocean” is. Good Lord is it magnificent live.  ↩
« Older posts

© 2021 D's Notebook

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑