5 David Bowie songs I like.

I used to devour those British music magazines in the 2000s. Q, Mojo, NME, ate them up and each of them always referred to David Bowie reverentially and most often as the thin white duke.  Unquestionably, discovering and exploring his musical catalogue was a damn odyssey in my life and though I couldn’t get into the Berlin stuff, I thought David sang with more soul than most people gave him credit for. Yeah, I just called him DAVID. First time I saw him I think was a video on MTV Classic of Let’s Dance. Young me thought in my little brain “That guy is on drugs.” I was mostly right but when I discovered Changesbowie in high school, it was a wrap. I felt then and now that that album is the single best Greatest Hits album of all time. And please know that I recognize this is a very serious claim.

This one is my favorite Bowie song to play on a jukebox. And an amazing live performance from the man I proudly share my birthday with. (Birthsake?)

Gee, my life’s a funny thing!

This is my favorite Bowie movie moment. With respect to The Prestige, Zoolander, and others, his musical accompaniment to the dance scene in A Knight’s Tale was pure gold. Puts a smile on your ole kisser every time.

Don’t let me hear you say life’s taking you nowhere, angel

For somebody who doesn’t change much and has had one “look” in his life, I still feel like Bowie and I are totally in sync on this anthem. I have sung this in the car countless times and that sax at the end, ooh boy. That’ll do, Bowie, that’ll do.

And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds

By far the funniest Bowie ever. He absolutely slayed it in what is one of the funniest tv scenes ever. And the song is actually catchy too!

The clown that nobody laughs at

This one is just one that always comes to mind. So rich with imagery and such a kick ass rock song. The lyrics are below the video and look like a poem, the gray letters on white. Memories of driving in New Jersey and ending the night with this on in my old Toyota.

We were so turned on and you thought we were fakers!



One of my favorite things that happens in rock & roll is when a performer is a really shy person who just transforms into a champion tour de force who just grabs everybody in the stadium’s heart when he or she lets their talent rip. That burst of confidence that just lets them flow like pure steel in front of 50,000 people when they are doing their thing, when they can’t barely handle doing one sit-down interview because of shyness. I’m thinking Freddie Mercury at Live Aid. But I keep thinking that with these John Frusciante live clips too. He’s so good and the crowds at the gigs are so good I alternately fantasize about being him on this stage at Slane Castle in Ireland, or one of these swaying Irish in attendance.

I also love the song choice, homie is covering a 1958 song that critics call the emergence of the girl group sound that would become so huge in the 60s, it’s so beautiful lyrically but the standout feature of the song for me is the lead singer’s vocal performance – her voice – dang! Heartbreaking!

I still feel her pain 58 years after they recorded it, shoutout to Arlene Smith from the Bronx! The Chantels, ladies and gentlemen…a song I never would have heard of if not for John Frusciante taking a step forward in front of half of Ireland with an axe to shred and a soul to bear.

Stopping By The Woods On A Snowy Evening (2015 Remix)

Robert Frost wrote the iconic poem about his horse and him stopping by the woods on a snowy evening in 1922. I hold a degree in English Literature so I can tell you with confidence that they almost certainly stopped there because the horse or him or both had to poop.

A lot has changed since then and sadly his wonderful poem has become a tad difficult to relate to. In this spirit, it’s time to Remix what this former Poet Laureate referred to as his “best bid for remembrance.” Chill Frost (heh heh), I’m remembering you 93 years later – as I’m sure this Remix will be celebrated in 2108. 

Whose woods these are I think I know

Some corporation that bought this land a long time ago

They probably ran off a Cherokee or Navajo

and that community disappeared as quietly as this falling snow 

Prose and poems aplenty one reads of nature’s wonders

But transfixed in the moonlight now the sole spell I’m under

 Is a spine-bending blood-curdling cold shock tearing me asunder

The Hawk coming at me hard, to strike and freeze me like icy thunder

My tired tried and true old car lets out a painful yelp 

A high-pitched wail emanating off a too-old timing belt

Callously ripping apart the slightly boring peace of the Vanilla shroud

Nudging, nudging, guilt tripping and dispersing the only crowd

These woods are dank, wet and cold kinda like my feet

Later Nature, we tried, but I have needs to meet 

And Netflix to go before I sleep

And Netflix to go before I sleep. 

a simple plan

“Nature makes me miss my couch. Is that wrong?” yelled Billy Bob to no snowy tree in particular.


Here’s a link to the original poem by Frost, not as good but worth a read.

Also, the photo above is from the movie “A Simple Plan“, one of the best “snow movies” of all time, as well as a hell of a crime thriller and morality tale. (Was on Netflix recently too.)

Best 5 snow movies off the top of my head: Fargo, A Simple Plan, Cliffhanger, Alive and Beautiful Girls. 

Chair Not Gonna Take It!


She asked me to stay and to sit anywhere/ I looked around and noticed there wasn’t a chair/ We had already broken them all/ Out on the lash with George and Paul

From my epic tolerance for every drug from Milk Chocolate to 70% Dark Chocolate to my wild and debauched nightly benders at the YMCA, Yoga class and Panera Bread, I’m universally regarded as unhinged, untamed and it’s understood that underwear is not in my vocabulary.


So obviously it comes with the territory that I’ve broken my share of chairs. Splintered some wood, ripped some canvas. Ain’t no thing to me. A movie theater in Bombay. A living room in Jakkur. Yards. Get togethers. Dinners in snooty restaurants. A hammock. A bed-frame. On any occasion, without warning, I could begin my descent to a stiff wooden chair soon-to-cave under the pressure of being his majesty’s throne. Executive leather office chairs have choked under the bright lights of my whirling dervish swiveling. So it came as no surprise to my seasoned chair-destroying ears when I plopped down onto my friend’s chair in his backyard recently only to hear a pathetic yokel’s cry: “Dude, you trying to break another chair!?” 

I calmly explained that if I wanted to break his chairs, he would be sitting on the floor at that very moment. For when I hear that siren’s cry, in the name of all things sex, drugs, and rock & roll, I am a slave to my muse and that chair is dust the second I feel the thunder, it’s just standing there not knowing it is all.

He pathetically pleaded “That’s how you broke the last one! You can’t just fall into it man, LOWER yourself into the chair. Ease into it.” This civilian’s whining was of course alien to me, me a man proud to have lost his hearing to the hammers of the gods and his feelings to the succubus awaiting him in Pandora’s Box night after night.


You think Keith Richards eases into his chair? Please. Easing and lowering are beneath our breed. We are the ploppers. The chosen ones. We effortlessly amble up to said chair, situate our ass in the designated air space we choose and then we DROP with the reckless abandon of a skydiver on speedballs. It’s a RUSH, kids. No considerations, no easing, no lowering and no mercy – Just a gut call and pure adrenalin on that two foot drop till your ass hits the chair. And if some chairs break, tough sh*t Sonny. You want to make an omelette, you gotta break some eggs, as the man says.

So then I had to educate the chair-owner on the plight and duty of the chair who stands in the eye of the tornado.



I know I’ve dreamed you a sin and a lie
I have my freedom but I don’t have much time
Faith has been broken tears must be cried
Let’s do some chair-smashing before we die
Wild couches, couldn’t drag me away
Wild wild couches we’ll ride them someday
Wild couches, couldn’t drag me away
Wild wild couches we’ll ride them someday

Keith Richards – His chair is a born survivor. Rain, wind, snow, lava, doesn’t matter. Keef can plop off a helicopter with a Hatari Hanzo sword unsheathed and this chair welcomes it. The chair itself is a chain smoking, groupie guzzling, drug and booze cocktail imbibing nocturnal animal with creased leather and  intimidating upholstery. Remarkably, he’s cozy too. Found in the basement of a palace in Marseilles after a coup.

Mick Jagger– Mick’s chair is on Ebay, it is a leather LA-Z-BOY with his band’s lips insignia prominently displayed on it. It is under the listing “Sir Mick Jagger’s Chair”. Asking price is $495,900. To activate recliner, pull and hold the large brown wooden stick on the side (as seen on Sticky Fingers cover) and this leathery old chair will stun you by gyrating in a herky-jerky manner for the rest of the night. Originally purchased from one Peter Frampton’s 1977 yard sale.

Bono– Bono’s chair is made from an ultra-chic material that is so environmentally friendly that Chris Martin from Coldplay threw a hissyfit because he couldn’t get one. The creation of this chair benefited farmers in the Midwest, kids in Africa and those Chilean miners nobody talks about anymore. This chair sports a Red Cross on the front along with a photo on the back that looks like it was taken from a Benetton ad. Slick and uncomfortable, the  ideal chair for a boutique hotel lobby. Ikea will auction off 200 knockoffs for their SIT ON IT, MALARIA 2014 Charity Drive.

Jim Morrison – The best chair in the world for the man who threatens to babble on too long and ultimately expose his member. A dark, weird, disturbed chair with random rhyming couplets carved into it’s armrests with a rusty bloody blade. Probably bought on Craigslist. Greyish brownish grey.

Photo of Jimi HENDRIX

“There must be some kind of way out of here” said the man’s ass to the seat, There’s too much cushion, I can’t get no relief!

Jimi Hendrix – Extremely flammable. Adorned in Hindu deities. Comfortable if you sit in this one position that nobody seems to have quite figured out yet. Rumored to be an orgasmic sit if found. Rumored to have only been found once, backstage at Monterey Pop. Rumored to be a bullsh*t rumor. Rumored to now be in the home of Nicolas Cage, the one in Aspen.

Do you think these Gods of Rock eased themselves into their chairs? (Nic Cage included) You don’t take over the world by being some hick who says “Excuse me, may I slowly turn and descend my rear end into this sitting tool?” Moreover, these men are all on the record about sitting and smashing:

Mick and Keith famously yelled “Hey you, get off my chair!”

Jim Morrison’s epic ode to destroying chairs with his ass is still sung in bars round the world – “I tried to stand, I tried to hide, break on through to the other side!”

Jimi Hendrix touched on this taboo topic many times in his short life, “Hey Joe, where you going with that chair in your hand? I’m going down to show my old lady, caught her messin’ round with another chair.”

And don’t you dare think that breaking chairs is limited to classic rock. No less a modern day legend than Kanye West has put his own trademark wit to the chair-destroying rite of passage for musical entertainers. He raps on his four times platinum album “Seatyricon” – “Y’aint never seen European shopping sprees with Hova/Salvadore Dali hand-painted Sofa/didn’t even take the bubble wrap off/before we crashed thru it Game Ova”


I say f*ck the police, thats how I treat em
We buy our way out of jail, but we can’t buy freedom
We’ll buy a lot of chairs when we don’t really need ’em
Things we buy to cover up what’s inside

No less an icon than Paul “Wings” McCartney has stated that the highlight of his career is to this day penning his seminal tribute to the majesty of the chair: “Here, Chair and Everywhere.” Asked to be interviewed for this article, Macca declined but sent this statement through his publicist:

“I’ve always liked sitting in them, to be honest. But breaking them and all that seems a bit silly to me now. I mean, it’s a waste isn’t it? Then you have to clean the mess and get a new chair. I mean, we’ve all done it when we’re young…but you grow up sometime don’t you? Seats are meant to be respected, at least that’s how I raised my kids. When I play “Here, Chair and Everywhere” at my shows – and the audience all gently ease back into their chairs, it’s lovely. Makes me get a wee bit emotional.”

To each his own, apparently. For another perspective, we contacted Axl Rose’s publicist. She responded by saying that Axl was “in the studio furiously working on the remaster for Chinese Democracy which is about to blow the world away” -but he was kind enough to send us a letter which really says it all:

“I f*cking hate sitting. But I love chairs. That’s what “Welcome to the Jungle” is about. Nobody ever got that. Why do you think I’m strapped to an electric chair in the video? I started breaking chairs in Indiana and when I got to LA, there were more chairs than I had ever f*cking seen man. I busted a dozen my first week on the Strip. I had never sat in anything like these before. I even say in Jungle “it’s gonna bring you down!” and to your “na-na-na-na-knees”, I mean how stupid do people have to be to not get the message? Did I have to call the track “Break your chair, motherf*cker” for them to get it? Paradise City was originally written from the perspective of a chair who keeps getting the sh*t kicked out of him but of course David f*cking Geffen that money-hungry m*therf*cking c*cks*ck*er made us change it for MTV.”

Rose included a recent photo of himself holding up his middle 3 fingers with a handwritten note reading “Read between the lines, 1,  Axel F-ing Rose.”


Just furnishing livin’ under the street
I’m a hard chair that’s tough to beat
I’m your chair-ity case so buy me some kinda springs
I’ll pay you at another time
Take it to the end of the line
Rags to patches or so they say
Ya gotta keep pushin’ against these dudes and dames
It’s all a gamble when it’s just a game
This sh*t should be a capital crime
And Everybody’s doin’ the time.


I can't even sit and wonder why, babe It don’t matter, anyhow An’ I wish you could sit and wonder why, babe since you won’t know by now When your rooster crows at the break of dawn Look out your window and I’ll be gone You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on Nowhere left to sit but it’s all right

I can’t even sit and wonder why, babe
It don’t matter, anyhow
An’ I wish you could sit and wonder why, babe
since you won’t know by now
When your rooster crows at the break of dawn
Look out your window and I’ll be gone
You’re the reason I’m trav’lin’ on
No place left to sit but it’s all right

Elvis Presley side view chair Miami, 1956 Pacchair MJCHAIR

The Telltale Pot

Well, if you want to know what happens when you want some tea and put a pot of water on the stove to boil and then leave the room to get your headphones and then plop down in bed and forget about it completely – eventually the loud interspersed banging and beeping permeates the music and convinces you that it’s NOT part of the beat and then you run out and the water’s all evaporated and the bottom of the pot is burnt and you cover the handle with a towel and throw it in the cabinet and go answer the door and tell your neighbours and landlord that you don’t know why the alarm went off but the reason it went off for so long is that you had your headphones on so you could study and you have to because of said neighbour’s loud music and you remind her in front of landlord that her smoke alarm went off at 3am last month and you had to sleepwalk over there and switch it off since she couldn’t reach it and you wondered who bakes at that hour but you make a joke of it like “heh heh lot of false alarms lately, must be going around” and then they start talking about you in Spanish but that’s actually cool because you don’t understand so you say firmly “OK I really have to go study” and politely shut the door and then you draw the curtains closed and pull the telltale pot out of the evidence locker and boil some more water because after all you still want the tea, in fact now more than previously, but this time you watch it like a hawk and then it comes to a boil and then you blog about it while your lemon green tea cools. Fin.


What I’m listening to as I watch the shadows of the steam rising from my much awaited piping hot tea dance up my wall:

You’re So Vain 2013

Re-discovered Carly Simon’s “You’re So Vain” from 1972 and it’s been in the rotation since. Have always loved the details in the lyrics, though I couldn’t help but notice that some are a bit outdated now. Since it’s been more than forty years since the release of the song, I thought I would try to re-write this tune with a modern slant because while some of these references have gone by the wayside, vanity has survived quite nicely. I looked up the song on Wikipedia and it’s fascinating how much the world has pined for Carly Simon to reveal the identity of who she wrote this song about. Candidates include a who’s who of 70s hunks from Warren Beatty (who actually hopes and insists it is about him) to Nick Nolte (who has probably never cared one iota) to Mick Jagger (who contributes backing vocals to the song) to a random non-famous person or perhaps even that the song is about all men in general and written from experiences with several different dudes. I am happy to however report that Carly Simon has gone on record and said that it is 100% NOT about her recently divorced ex-husband at the time Mr James Taylor. Not JT! I couldn’t handle Sweet Baby James acting like that!  I love how she begins the song by whispering “Sonofagun” like she’s been hurt and screwed over by this guy. So I guess that’s where I’ll start: 

Ssskank (whispered) 
You walked into the club like you were walking on the ramp
Your top strategically dipped below your arm
Your sunglasses were extremely camp
You had one eye in the mirror as you watched yourself duckface
And all the dudes dreamed that they’d be your boo They’d be your boo, and…
You’re so vain, you probably think this status update is about you
You’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this status is about you Don’t you? Don’t You?
You had me several years ago when I was still mad naive
Well you said that we should be In A Relationship
And that you would never leave
But you constantly upgraded the things you loved and one of them was me
I had some dreams, they were bubbles in my tea Bubbles in my tea, and…
You’re so vain, you probably think this meme is about you
You’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this tweet is about you Don’t you? Don’t You? Don’t You?
I had some dreams they were bubbles in my tea Bubbles in my tea, and…
You’re so vain, you probably think this email is about you You’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this thread is about you Don’t you? Don’t You?
Well I hear you went up to Coachella and naturally got backstage VIP
Then you flew your lear jet down to Ibiza
for a David Guetta underwater party
Well you’re where you check-in all the time
And when you’re not you’re with some start-up tech mogul or your cigar buddies
Your cigar buddies, and…
You’re so vain, you probably think this song is about you
You’re so vain, I’ll bet you think this #hashtag is about you Don’t you? Don’t You? Don’t you?
You’re so vain, you probably think this blog is about you
You’re so vain, you probably think this blog is about you… _______________________________________________________________________________________
What I’m Listening To:
Isn’t it obvious? Didn’t you just finish reading an entire blog post about that very subject? Oh what the hell, since nothing’s ever enough for you people:

The Beatles Anthology

On an autumn evening way back in the late 90s, I walked into my neighbourhood Easy Video (wow, remember movie rental stores?) and I saw an 8 part VHS (video cassettes?) series called The Beatles Anthology.

Easy Video offered 3 tapes for 3 days for 3 dollars. Decent deal. The Threefer. And so I rented out parts 1, 2 and 3 and walked home.

Each part is approximately an hour long. I loved the documentary so much I watched parts 1-3 the first day.

Then, I went back and rented parts 4-6 the next day, without returning 1-3 because I had another 2 days with them.

Then, I went and rented parts 7-8 and another movie without making any returns thus leaving me with the entire Beatles Anthology and Desperado in my room.

Over the next year, EVERY SINGLE TIME I went there, I would rent two movies and one Anthology video. It was automatic. I really loved the music and the documentary footage so much that I wound up watching and/or listening to my favorite editions (Volumes 3 and 5) about fifteen to twenty times and every other one at least ten times. Disclosure: These numbers are complete guesses and may be completely different from the real numbers.

Then, on a day like any other, I turned the corner into the Inman-Grove center and saw a large white banner hanging over my ole faithful video shoppe. It read “GOING OUT OF BUSINESS.” I couldn’t believe that Easy Video was closing it’s doors despite my steady $6 a week. As I got closer to the store, I spied signs in the windows that read “Everything Must Go. $1 each.” I walked in. My eyes darted around from Comedy to Independent to the people walking around with baskets full of movies. Most of the shelves were empty already. The horror, the horror. I felt a dread come over me. I ran up to the music section and found it completely empty. Aah, the guy who works here must have put them aside for me. I mean, he called me Beatles Guy, you know? I ran up to the counter and asked the guy -who had worked there for a year- and who had personally rented me out The Beatles Anthology countless times:

“Hey, did you put the Beatles Anthology aside for me?”

Clerk: Uh, no?

“What? Dude… How many times have I rented it? Don’t you think I would have bought it for $8?”

Clerk: Uh, I don’t know?

“Dude, this is ridiculous! I would have saved it for you!”

Clerk: Dude, I just lost my job you know. We do have some movies left though.

I walked away. Seeing red. I distinctly remember wanting to flip over all the remaining shelves littered with bullshit tier-2 thrillers like Hush starring Gwyneth Paltrow. I bought some movies, navigated my way through the scores of Jumanji tapes and walked the walk home from Easy Video one last time, cursing to the skies what had been my favorite place for the entire previous year.

Life was different after that. I stopped renting movies. I had already promised myself I would never support the other store in town, that one with the yellow sign and blue shirts. I had been in there briefly and it just seemed to destroy the spirit of movies altogether. It was like movies went there to die, forever buried in that hellhole. The place wasn’t a library, it was a morgue. Seriously. F*ck Blockbuster.

*                                 *                                    *

It was about two to three years later that I found myself in Best Buy best buying a DVD Player.  Yeah, times had changed. These little CD lookalikes were like like VHS movies but the print never got choppy! You didn’t even have to rewind them. (An aside: I shelled out $100 for the player and the clerk at Best Buy gave me a free trial to Netflix. This was in the summer of 2001. I didn’t even have a computer. Still, I eventually went to a friend’s house, got on Netflix and never looked back. They are one of the best companies I have ever dealt with.) When I bought the player, I also bought one movie. Of course, it was Goodfellas. Which I had seen the first time when I rented it from…Easy Video. I had tried to find Goodfellas in India for years. It had become a myth, a legend, an uncut diamond in the wild. When I moved to America, I went and rented Goodfellas in the first 48 hours of being here. Damn you, Easy. Forgetting you would be harder than Forgetting Sarah Marshall.  Movies I saw for the first time thanks to Easy – Goodfellas, Bottle Rocket, Miller’s Crossing, Raising Arizona, The Boxer, Trainspotting.

*                                   *                                    *

I parked my car and switched it off. I grabbed my keys, locked the door and walked into work a minute or two early. As I walked into Pet Valu in Garwood, I heard Jerry Martier of Q. 104.3 say “Caller 50 right now wins the Beatle’s Anthology.” I slid behind the counter, said hi to my boss, picked up the phone and dialed the Q all in one motion. Five seconds later.

Jerry: Q 104.3, who’s speaking?

Me: Yes! Are you serious, did I just win the Beatle’s Anthology?!!

Jerry: Yes, you did! On DVD! What’s your name?

Me: Dude, it’s Sidrock!!

My boss: Yo man, there’s a cat litter spill in the back…can you sweep it up?

Jerry: Sidrock!! Are you serious man? How did you pull this off? (laughing)

Me: Yo…

I had been calling into the station and requesting songs from work (mostly Beatles) for about two to three years at that point. Sidrock was notorious throughout the station for his schticky name and repeatedly requesting “Godzilla by Blue Oyster Cult“, any song that had just finished playing and Mongo Jerry‘s “In the Summertime”. Jerry was the only one who ever humored me. I had tried to win their contests a hundred times, using two phones and all that but to no avail. I told him the entire saga of the Easy Video incident and he played our little talk on the air. I could only hope that the douche who worked at the video store heard that I won it on DVD. No rewinding for me, son. DVD commentary, sucka!  Jerry followed up our talk with a speech about “never giving up”. I felt like an Olympian. My boss repeated his request about the cat litter spill in the back.  I grabbed a broom and got to it. Customers soon heard a voice from the back…Baby you’re a rich man, BABY you’re a rich man TOO! You keep all your money in a big brown bag – at the zoo…Oh what a thing to do!…Babyyyy!

*                                 *                                 *

2011. I recently shipped all my things from California to New Jersey. Whatever didn’t fit in my bags when I flew cross-country. I opened up my suitcase to see that some piece of crap has stolen whatever DVD’s I had left in there. I hid them in an album in my jeans but I guess some scumbags aren’t beneath searching a man’s pants. He took everything of any value. Except he left The Beatles Anthology. I’m really happy he did. When I saw those 4 discs with the apples on them, they made me feel like it’ll all work out in the end. We can work it out.

Life is very short and there's no tiiiime for fussing and fighting my friend!

#14 Like Father Like Son

Recently a friend sent me a copy of Liam Finn’s album “I’ll Be Lightning”. It’s become one of my favorite albums of recent memory.

That was “Music Moves My Feet” off his debut album. Not all the songs are that mellow although i think he does mellow perfectly. Its never dull. The things i like most are his songwriting as well as his voice. Then, totally coincidentally, I found my old Crowded House CD and I listened to that, enjoying it for the exact same reasons. It then dawned on me that Liam Finn was after all Neil Finn’ son, Neil being the singer/songwriter of Crowded House. This was my favorite song when I was eleven years old. I still love it. “Weather With You”
This in turn made me ask myself how is it that talented entertainers can pass on their skills to their kids? Could it be in your DNA? Or is it just that they are in a priveleged position to learn and succeed? There’s no set answer but I couldn’t shake thinking about it…

Of course, they’re not the first talented father and son duo. From NFL quarterbacks to Singers and Actors to Businessmen and Doctors, I guess a lot of sons just see their fathers at a very young age and want to emulate them. Couple that with a nurturing environment wherein the dad wants his son to take up his trade and I suppose the possibilities are there…thats my guess. However, it’s just a lot more obvious in the fields of music and theatre than neuroscience for example.

But still, for every Liam Finn, there are 10 of Ozzy Ozbourne’s daughter. I forget her name but she was ghastly. And thats why i am surprised and delighted when a kid of a great musician makes great music. Because following in some guys footsteps is really really hard. For instance, Imagine being this guy’s son and being a singer/songwriter. Here’s the supremely entertaining John Lennon with “Whatever Gets You Through the Night”

I wouldn’t have the balls to try following this up and I doubt many would. Still, Sean Lennon’s done nicely and impressively, he’s always done things on his own terms.

The point is just go and listen to “I’ll Be Lightning” by Liam Finn.