Tag: Father John Misty

When I hear the sounds of Islands, I am reminded of sparkling diamonds and shattered glass.

I meant to write the notes for this show sooner than a month after the fact, but travel plans got in the way and here I am struggling for an intro. I can tell you that hearing Sparklehorse take on Robyn Hitchcock and the Egyptians’ “Listening to the Higsons” for the first time, mere weeks ago, felt like someone became obsessed with the same cassette as I did thirty years ago, but actually got around to letting the hen out.

Raw, stinging, and pungent like a freshly-cut onion, The Bobby Lees quickly peel away their layers to share their tender, pearl-white hearts.

The keypad beeped softly as the astronomer keyed in the coordinates. It was deepest darkest night on the altiplano, the stars above an unfamiliar configuration for those born to northern skies. The physicist tapped their pencil against their favorite clipboard (the metal one), the coffee-stained papers clipped to it showing the revised calculations for the Hole In The Sky. Over the tinny intercom, hacked because both had forgotten to bring a speaker, a particularly ironic song choice began to play, making them instinctively share a knowing glance.

Well, that was an interesting show. Not much listener activity tonight, though that's OK since I had my hands full with SSL certificate madness in order to finish the Secret Project that is this site itself. Perseverance at the command line won the day (and the small green lock on your browser bar), even if it was interrupted every minute or few with ongoing radio show requirements.

Side note: It is impossible to purchase or renew a certificate without at least two password resets. I'm not sure which of the thermodynamics laws governs this, but it seems to be fairly immut

The Thievery Corporation has institutionalized the plagiarism of genres, and this week's dub-influenced opener is no exception.

In times fraught with misinformation, Ty Richards implores you to seek the truth.