Reviews by charidotes20

"Some people live their whole life, and never fall in love. I lived my life. I fell in love."

Not unlike "Pretty in Pink" (1986), this film is a melodrama entwined with issues relating to class. A girl must choose between a boy from her town whom she already knows, and one from a very different social situation, with all the difficulties of family and the question of long-term commitment which go along with this.

A guy (Chris Klein) who goes to a upper-class school, decides to hang out at a working-class diner. He flirts with the waitress (Leelee Sobieski), which angers her boyfriend (Josh Hartnett). The two boys insult each other, and a conflicts erupts which escalates until it culminates in a destructive encounter. This results in a court order which orders both boys to repair the damage that they made, which requires the rich kid from Boston to live for awhile in a rural Massachusetts town.

At first he stays aloof from everyone else, but gradually a relationship develops between himself and the girl he met in the diner. This creates alot of emotional stress and confusion for those involved. The girl must try to work out whether she likes the new guy better than her old boyfriend, and whether or not she should still honor her usual social obligations/outings with him. Also, she is forced to examine the issue of whether or not he is only having a brief fling before returning to his old life, (like others of his class had done in the past), or whether a serious relationship was possible.

At the end, the movie raises more questions than it answers. The ultimate resolution of the basic conflict is, in an emotional sense, left unresolved, due to tragic circumstances which end the game for all those involved.

However, the movie does show in a realistic way interpersonal relations in a variety of different situations. The result is a work of art which is thoughtful, if melancholy. It is not the best or the superlative of excellence, but it will serve as a welcome relief to all those who do not have the temperament to endure the movies about violent crime which are produced in such great numbers.

(8/10)

I wasn't really planning on writing a review or anything, but when I saw that the thing was called "God", I decided that I would have to at least give it a shot, for the title, if nothing else, tickled me pink.

I suppose the funny thing, or one of the funny things, about Christian music, is that, like the source of its inspiration, it is something of *niche*, and yet it also has universalist aspirations. There's a certain sort of people who will make (or listen to) Christian music, but it's supposed to be accessible to everyone. (And, incidentally, I got this CD from my dad.) So it's always interesting, when someone sets a very high mark for themselves to hit, to see how they'll actually get it turn out. And so much the more when they actually call the album, "God".

The other funny thing about the genre (that comes to mind) is that obviously traditionally Christian, or church music, was decidedly Bach-y, but more recently, it has accepted more pop-y models to follow, or at least, to tweak with. (If the preceding sentence can be said to have been written in something like English.)

And, to be fair, even someone like Taylor Swift has ideas and outlooks that not everyone.... and yet, everyone (has to), you know? Like in "Change"-- "But there's something in your eyes that says we can beat this, 'cause things will change." (*perfunctory clapping*) Or that she called one of her albums, "Speak Now". Some people get drunk when they turn 21, or write goofy love songs like, "Please Please Me". But Taylor Swift talks about speaking up for the revolution. ^^

So, in a sense, Rebecca St. James is one of those sorts of girls, the type that you don't always hope for, if you have a certain disposition: like the title character of "Dear Prudence", who would rather sit at the feet of the Maharishi than "come out and play". But it would be too much to read too much into this in the wrong way. She has a pretty sunny disposition, and at least she has little ill to say of anyone, speaking neither in the form of worldly complaints, nor biblical jeremiads. (Although of course she draws upon the Bible and old Irish blessings that mention God and all that sort of thing, because that's the sort of thing that it is.)

Although, of course, some of the religious lines of poetry, like in "Me Without You", could probably be re-imagined along romantic lines, although I imagine this being denied, somehow, and anyway it probably would have had a different flavor, someone, if it had been written with a different intention.

But anyway, if I'm to decided whether or not she does a good job in doing stuff that both draws on all the specific materials of her tradition, while still being broadly accessible to different sorts of people, I would say, (based on my own reaction, at any rate), that she does a pretty good stuff. Of course, "That's What Matters" draws a bit of a line between putting your attention towards What Really Matters, and passing this-and-that, but not in a terribly brusque way. It's not too different from some of the songs the Byrds did, "Satisfied Mind", comes to mind, and they even did one called "The Christian Life", ("I, like, the Christian life"), (from their 1968 album, "Sweetheart of the Rodeo"), and of course the one-- the famous one, "Turn! Turn! Turn!"-- that Pete Seeger did, based on the Bible, so it's not like it's some unexpected shock-tactic, or anything like that. At least I don't think so.

But, if you take the lead track and the single, and the title-song, "God"-- that fits the bill pretty well, I think. (And, I think, five singles is definitely too many to pick from an album with ten, but that song, at least, really does stand out.) It's of course difficult to put into words why a song is pleasing. I suppose that part of what explains it good is that it is lively (and with drums and everything). And the chorus, when she goes, "It's God, truly God; I can't explain it any other way"-- it's just very good. It expresses the religious feeling, which is meaningful to anyone who has felt it. And the words are very broad, musical, and not caught up in the scribe's paper and ink, reaching for a feeling, caught up in a feeling, broadly extending the arms. And the words are so mystic, that I think that they could speak to different sorts of people who feel that word, God; they could easily be repeated by a pagan (I personally imagine some raised extended arms in an old Roman temple, with these neat columns), although certainly they are also acceptable to Christians.

Although maybe that very quality would make some people look twice at it, who think that church music must fit theological norms very nicely and snugly, with little room for broad mystic feelings. But at any rate I think it's fine.

But anyway, the other way in which you could measure the music, if you will, would be how well it compares to other works of pop or pop-esque music, although again, that may be a little controversial for some. But who cares. So, to look at, say, Selena Gomez ("Stars Dance")-- as good of an example of pop music as any. It would make good party music, and it's, although it's easy to make fun, feel-good; it feels good and it fills the atmosphere with a sort of pop-y vibrations. Again, it's difficult to marshal the right words for this sort of thing-- but clearly it fills the atmosphere in a certain way. Rebecca St. James is a little different here, and it is somewhat more difficult to imagine it being used as party music. It is a little cosmic, although some music is-- not everything has to make the heart race, necessarily, whether it's The Beatles '68 album, or Taylor Swift rhyming up the revolution of consciousness. But, despite that, and the influences it obviously takes in, it can be considered pop music. In fact, you could probably say that it's more pop-y, than rock-y, if that makes sense.

So then, whether or not "God" is more to your liking than "Stars Dance" depends, on, whether or not you think it's chill to see Selena Gomez dressed up as a fashionable Oriental dancer, and whether you're pagan or Christian, or what type of whatever.

So, you see, that was clever. Totally non-obvious.

At any rate, it seemed okay to me-- the CD didn't skip, or seem to, for any reason: nothing like that, for me. It worked out okay.

And I did get the chance to review "God", which is of course a real treat and an aspiration for any budding critic.

(8/10)

It's like "Black Swan".

'I'll take the last train to Clarksville, and I don't know if I'm ever coming home.'

(9/10)

This is vintage 60s spirit.

I gave it a high rating to begin with, but as I found myself having to listen to it more and more, I just had to give it full marks.

"I Feel Free" is a great lead-in, a great single, and it's like a little mini-showcase of this group's talent. It takes freedom and, instead of making it something that anyone would fight over or get cantankerous about, it just makes it something really good that you feel. It's a great beginning, that makes you want to start the whole thing over again. And at the other end, "I'm So Glad" is another high point, bringing you to this point where you can just be there singing about feeling happy, without anything being missing. And the long drum solo in "Toad" is a nice lead-out. And in the middle, there are lots of quirky interesting little pieces like "Spoonful" that are alot of fun.

"I Feel Free" could be the best, but the whole album is so good that it keeps you wanting to listen to the whole thing to get back to the beginning, without wanting to skip around anything.

There's just something about it, that 60s spirit, that somehow makes me feel I 'remember' something-- whatever my parents wish they could explain, so far as they understood themselves, and whatever they managed to tell me, although, even more than that, what filtered down to me even when I was very young, through the children's education and entertainment I received. I don't know, it just feels familiar.... "Bop bop bop bop bop bop, I feel free; Bop bop bop bop bop bop, I feel free.... You, You're all I want to know; I feel free; I feel free; I feel free.... ceiling is the sky; you're the sun, and as you shine on me, I feel free; I feel free; I feel free...."

And somehow, the more that I 'learn' about it, the more I see and feel that I already always knew.

Cream.

(10/10)

The problem I have trying to decide how much I like Franz Ferdinand is that it's the music that I listened to when I didn't listen to as much music as I do now, if that makes sense. ("I can distinguish between popularity and various degrees of obscurity"-- and I tended heavily towards the later, with Franz Ferdinand being as close as I came to the middle, towards sorta moderate popularity.) I mean, I didn't really use to listen to full albums, (this was the exception), and most of the music that I did listen to, it was usually a movie or even a video game that got me into it-- I didn't say, 'Now I'm going to go find music'. It's hard to explain the difference. But it's there.

Franz Ferdinand isn't like that sorta hardcore 'alternative' sound with alot of screaming and unpleasantness-- although on their other album 'Tonight' the cover is a black and white crime scene, and "Walk Away" ends with an evocation of various historical leaders to explain his feelings regarding the end of a relationship. And the name itself is partly for the alliteration and partly because it's the name of a historical Arch-duke.

I'm a little bipolar when it comes to obscure or 'different' music, (I mean, everything is *different*, but "alternative" stuff has its own little motifs, you know), because I do still have some interest in some obscure music for religious-pagan reasons; I wouldn't mind if there were more music about various European mythologies. (As opposed to Christian music, although some of that isn't too bad.) But that doesn't mean that I really care too much about continental Europe's bands or other international music, although occasionally I'll listen to Spanish music, since there's so much of it around. I don't go looking for obscure French stuff though, although, say, if I happened across 'M2M' which is more a 90s girl band from Norway, than specifically Norwegian music, although I have to admit I like that too.

This is a little confusing (and I just got interrupted), but let me try to get at this.

So sometimes I like music with different roots-- like Spanish music, although sometimes I'll indulge myself with Norwegian.

I just wish that I hadn't been interrupted. Maybe I like quiet music.

Anyway, but I don't like indie, history-y music. (Not anymore.) I like pop music. I don't mind that it's mostly English and American. The 'alternative' groups tend to be 'Scottish' (or Greco-Scottish) in their 'diversity', so why not pop instead.

As long as I can have my own space-- and screaming noise doesn't make other people quieter. I just wish that I could follow my own train of thought.

Although the problem is that indie groups worry too much about getting their own space, so that everything is about your own band or your own niche-- and everything else makes you feel alienated. Sometimes I still get irritated when people buzz around me when I'm trying to think, but I do try to appreciate other kinds of music, and I try not to be too bothered by things.

Franz Ferdinand is better than most other indie bands, and they are somewhat open to other influences instead of only pretending to be (it's annoying when they say they are but aren't), but there is still some irritation in this group that bothers me. Sometimes I get irritated being in a group of people when I'd rather not be, so I don't really need that reinforced. I try not to be irritated by people too much so hopefully they won't bother me so much. I try not to let it escalate into bitterness and resentment.

Franz Ferdinand isn't too bad-- the 20s girl who's on their cover isn't aggressive or anything like that (although the third album, "Tonight", that they put so much effort into, has this dramatic crime thing on the cover)-- but sometimes the interest in history or 'alternative' stuff comes from a desire to avoid other people, and this can be excessive at times. Sometimes there's an aversion from saying anything simply positive.

You can only hope that if you're not too difficult in needing space from the group, that they won't always feel the need to come in and 'remind' you of things.

I don't know; I just like pop music because it's happier.

Here's what I'm trying to get at-- with Franz Ferdinand, like with the other indie bands, it has this cycle-- happy and optimistic, and not too different from pop music, like with "Take me Out" or "Darts of Pleasure", and then it veers off into something else, like Churchill and Mao and everything, (and this seems to be increasing with age, so that "Tonight" is a little obsessed with its own darkness and wisdom-- "Ulysses" is a little catchy, 'Walking twenty-five miles, oh'-- but it's crude, (simple abandon), and "Lucid Dreams" is so esoteric than it makes you wish for some other Scottish/British people, like Jack Bruce and Eric Clapton, who just jammed and didn't lay it on so heavy.... in "You can have it so much better" it's only halfway towards this degree of hypercomplexity, but it's already part of the way there....), and then it comes back to social interaction to say, like with "Walk Away"-- but maybe if you don't get alienated to begin with to the point where you 'walk away', there wouldn't be such negativity to begin with. That's what I'm trying to get at.

And maybe this is an unfair criticism, but now I think I like Adele better. It would be hard to think of a Franz Ferdinand song which is as positive and accepting as "Someone like You".

Of course, on the other hand, I did hear this conversation-- between Jim McGuinn and David Crosby, back when they were friends, (JM: We want to enlighten them, you know, turn them on. DC: Communicate love. Always. JM: Which is about the same thing), where one of the things that they talk about is that not every song can be light and fun, (David calls it, "candy floss"), but the Byrds were so good at writing calm music. Those guys could do anything.

Franz Ferdinand did put out some music here, (nothing like "Fifth Dimension", of course), and some of it is fun, and it's not *very* bitter-- it's far from the most alienated thing you could find. But it certainly is light on the "candy floss", and sometimes it's doubtful whether it's really communicating love at all. There are some songs which are basically blunt come-ons, like "Do You Want On", and some pictures of troubled relationships that I'll admit can be very thoughtful, and sometimes artistic as well, "What You Meant", on miscommunication, "Walk Away" on leaving, (and a sort of arrogance-- not needing), and "You're the Reason I'm Leaving" is simple disgust. But, aside from this sort of dramatics, or the sort of goofy or almost goofy fun songs, like "This Fire", (from the first, and somewhat more fun, album) about mass hypnosis, mind control, and world domination-- aside from this, much of what is left is this stuff of discontent, which feels like it's only half a joke at best. "The Fallen" and a few songs like it condone, albeit in a joking sort of way, destruction, even though only peace and not violence can bring health to people and relationships-- a realization that seems to be lacking with them, despite their 'fun' blunt come-on songs. And despite the fact that their new album is to have a Buddhistic sort of title-- 'Right Thoughts, Right Words, Right Actions'-- but that doesn't make them George Harrison, it just means that they pretend at far greater wisdom than they really possess.

{One of the things about the Byrds that was fun to learn was how their first-rate song, "Eight Miles High", came to be written: it came about after their plane trip to England, as the first American group to go over there, after all the English groups (like the Beatles) came here. And there is a spirit of reflection in the song, and a wisdom, but it's a very real wisdom-- it grew from their own experience; there was no need to search their high school history books (which they had learned already has little to help them navigate the moral paradoxes and conflicting obligations of their troubled times) or dust off archival documents, to find experiences that they could feel something about. It has an immediacy and a directness as well as a reflection-- it has balance. And balance isn't the current indie scene's strong suit.}

It could be worse, but I guess that that more or less underlines the main point.

(8/10)

"Thinking without awareness is the main dilemma of human existence." Eckhart Tolle

I don't really use listal for books, but I figured that I'd use it for this audiobook, since my mom always has it on when I'm in the car. I also don't read as much as I used to, probably because I find most books to be vaguely disturbing, with the possible exception of "It's Kind of a Funny Story", and collections of fairy tales.

(".... getting into the right high school to get into the right college to get the right job."-- Ned Vizzini. My high school was like college, and college was as fun as the hospital.)

Anyway, the audiobook improved my opinion of it versus the print version, although I'm not sure how or whatever.

I can't explain it.

(8/10)

I don't know, but I love my witty titles.

And I just feel like I have to ask, because I think this guy could win an award for the most unmerited hostility from others.

And I mean, look, it might not be a masterpiece the way that "Pet Sounds" is a fucking masterpiece, but that's an unreasonable standard.

Because I guess what bothers me the most is the critic who has this condescending manner which is meant to be mistaken for "objectivity", when in fact what is carefully called "good" in this 'high-minded' way can only be called that because it fits inside of their own narrow tastes. But even though they call their affectation just criticism, their only available emotional response to criticism, or anything that does not sit well with them, is to either act like they are too far away to be affected by your little antics-- and to some people anything even vaguely creative is merely disruptive-- or to turn feral with hostility.... and with some people this is their only response. Actually, much of what we call out intellectual life is merely 'polite' talk about bloodshed-- it is amazing how deeply social life is made to bend towards antisocial behavior and people who are not really interested in being polite. But with some people crime and war are all you are allowed to talk about. Peace and love come across as a bad joke at best.

Anyway. I suppose that a genuine interest or, maybe better yet, a feeling of obligation toward the truth, would force us to admit that there is some part of us that wishes to reject Justin because he can cause us feelings of embarrassment, and especially if you try to actually identify with him on some level. But it just seems a little weak to be compelled to reject someone because of an embarrassment.

Which leads us to the question of what he did wrong. Did he do anything wrong? What did he do wrong? To change the burden of proof is to change the entire conversation.

For example, I'd say that "All Around The World" is a reference to "Mindless Behavior", although chronologically speaking it seems to be the other way around, if anything. But the point is, it's the first song of the album, and it features Ludacris. So what did he do wrong, from that point of view. Is it, being Canadian? Or going to a French Canadian school? You can turn it around several different ways, but he seems to have reached out in several different directions, while still being one person-- who has a reputation of most extreme simplicity-- which is something an achievement, isn't it?

And the thing is, the thing at the bottom is-- in 1964, there weren't many Beatles fans with names like John, Paul, and George. And in fact, I think that my grandfather still hasn't listened to them, although I could be wrong. The point is that some people are such Mantovani people that even Paul McCartney is a really unlikely stretch for them-- and I mean that in a very general way.

But yeah, it comes back to that for me-- in 1964, there weren't many Beatles fans with names like John, Paul, and George.

So, is that preferable?

I mean, alot of people think that "Downton Abbey" is very intellectual, but it only takes a little honest reflection, (and maybe a little courage), to see that we don't want to re-create the past. Some things never change-- people fall in love, get married, have children.... and some people do this better than others, and some people lack the patience, really, I think-- but historical circumstance certainly isn't a model that we can just admire. And especially not before, say, 1962. Sometimes it can be good to remember that before WWII you're looking at things that are contemporary with certain other things-- which would run counter to the idea that you should value antiquity in historical time for its own sake. I mean, it's one thing to drink tea-- *very* old, and not just a certain historical relic-- and another to do it on this very exacting Victorian model and reject more modern experiences, simply because these seem to be common.

Love is irrational, but so is admiring a society that would have put you in the servant's quarters and *looked down on you* unless you were (in the position to be) in full agreement with the British chauvinism of 1890, and more irrational still to celebrate the modest and partial challenges offered to this system by 1914, but to ignore things happening right now that are so different that even right now they are more likely to be looked on some sort of mental illness. Maybe Adele would have been called.... but, who cares, really. And it might seem irrational to pass over Jane Austen (writing about the most observational-comedy material she had available to her) from the escape-from-love-into-history thing, but.... "Vanity, not love, has been my folly."

So that's why, the next time you see a girl wearing a 'Belieber' shirt, you should smile instead of smirk.

.... "Then I saw her face, now I'm a believer...."

Oh, but that was the Monkees!

They tell Justin that he can't be cool like old-school rock-- the Monkees, and they told the Monkees that they couldn't be cool like the Beatles, and, to be honest, they gave the Beatles a hell of a lot of grief too.

Bieber can be cool like the Monkees, though.

{After all, the only way to change the deep collective unconsciousness is to actually be different.}

...............

And, you know, some Monkees albums are great and others are okay; I'm just saying that you don't have to throw broken bottles at them and call them names.

(8/10)

Some albums I enjoy deeply without being able to explain what is it that makes it so good. Gene Clark's "White Light" was like that for me, and so is Adele's "21". It just is-- just is.

{P.S. They're maybe not the same genre, but that wasn't the point. Both very artsy albums by solo artists. And, the whole point is-- it is hard to explain.}

(10/10)

Listal is missing what I actually have-- what I got in OG is actually not a compilation album but a "reprint" edition I guess of their first, 1962 album-- "Peter Paul and Mary". (I think they actually had Peter over here a few weeks ago, but I missed out on that.) That (middle-aged) guy at the store was actually nice this time, politely asking if I like the oldies, instead of getting all sour and implying that I make baby Jesus and Pete Seeger cry by excluding people. Which I try not to. And I figure that since yesterday I listened to club music in the club in AP, and then got home and listened to "Blind Faith" which is like club music, that I must be getting my musical diversity thing in, maybe. (Since technically, something *can* be both-- c.f. the Folk Den.)

But anyway. This is pretty cool stuff. It's even more folk-tastic than the Beach Boys ("Inside outside, USA; Inside outside USA...."), and much better and cooler than the patriotic parade, although that was okay. ("Peace, love, USA.") It's also interesting that this is a (1) an old (1962) album that didn't get sliced and diced into a greatest hits thing, and (2) it's a folk album that reached the top of the charts-- the history of the Byrds, for example, (and I used to be able to channel those guys, obsessively), shows how little actual popularity the lore of the folk can have with the people, sometimes. It depends.

But anyway, Peter Paul and Mary are surely the face of the folk that we like to see representing us. They're very quiet. They can even sing about Sampson without getting too excited or anything. They believe in peace and love. They're a mixed group, and also, in a folk kind of way, I guess, subtly show (on the album cover, see) that gentlemen and ladies are a little different. And they believe in peace and love-- see, peace, and see, love. It's a little hard to explain it.

And maybe the best way in which they're folk is in the most general way, in how they are as people-- they take common English names: Peter, Paul, and Mary, and make them good, maybe not unlike that other band, not technically a folk band, although they're as common as garden fairies now, who did the same for the common English names, John, Paul and George. (Although, incidentally, since "Please Please Me" didn't come out until 1963, this time we had the British beat out by a year in terms of antiquity.)

Anyway, it's basically an average album, but one that I enjoy-- like "Blonde on Blonde" by Bob Dylan or "Fearless" by Taylor Swift, sometimes it's certainly good enough to be decently good. (And those two albums only come to mind for an incidental reason, that I had to re-enter on listal here because I'd forgotten I actually have the CDs-- nevermind.)

So it's "a common tale but true"-- "Lemon Tree". Which again reminds me of the Byrds, who could sing about miners being blown from the depths of the earth into the skies, ("The Bells of Rhymney"), without sounding even vaguely distressed, so too Peter Paul and Mary sing about love that cannot be fulfilled, fruit that cannot be eaten, in "Lemon Tree", without becoming bitter at all.

So if I do like oldies, and I guess I do, although not exclusively, it must be things like that, that draw me.

So, there's certainly a lot more to Peter, Paul, and Mary than "If I Had A Hammer", ("Lemon Tree" was also a single), just like there's more to the Byrds than the "Turn! Turn! Turn!" song, but it's still pretty cool because like guys like Bob Dylan and Pete Seeger, they seeped into the culture of the folk and made that 60s part of things happen.

So yeah, they did do a pretty good job.

(8/10)

After indulging myself with the Jonas Brothers, I told myself that I was going to listen to this Spanish album, albeit one with an English title-- "Rhythm of Life". (By Ray Barretto.) And that's still on my to-do list, but since "What Makes You Beautiful"-- "You don't know you're beautiful!", *got in my head* I just had to put this one in again. I know that One Direction isn't considered 'good' by people who think that Bach and sorta church-y music is the good kind, and maybe not by those not "people like us"-- I used to have a Spanish novel (that I could sorta read) called 'Gente como nosotros', and I'm still tickled by that phrase, "people like us", and this is-- fish and chips, please, but, still.

I think this is first-rate.

All of the songs are pretty catchy, but as a little experiment, I'm going to write the phrases that stick in my mind the most.

1. What Makes You Beautiful-- "You don't know you're beautiful.... that's what makes you beautiful."

2. Gotta Be You-- "..... you.... only you...."

3. One Thing-- "Get out, get out, get out of my head, and fall into my arms instead."

4. More Than This-- I'm not sure.

5. Up All Night-- "Up all night like this, up all night.... I wanna stay up all night..."

6. I Wish-- da-na-na-na-na

7. Tell Me A Lie-- The chorus is very good, but it doesn't quite have that over-the-top addictive quality of some of the others.

8. Taken-- "You only love to see me breaking; you only want me when I'm taken."

9. I Want-- "I want I want I want-- but that's crazy. I want I want I want-- and that's not me. I want I want I want-- to be loved by you." This is a great example-- this isn't just a chorus; they're deliberately trying to drive you insane. It's also somewhat representative of the album, I think. (Was this a single? No? Really?)

10. Everything About You-- ".... you, you, you, everything that you do, do do...."

11. Same Mistakes-- I'm not sure.

12. Save You Tonight-- "I.... I, wanna save you...."

13. Stole My Heart-- *funny electronic sounds*

So.

Also, while the Jonas Brothers are very good, it is true that One Direction is like a different restaurant entirely. And--

I guess that a real cynic would call this crass manipulation, but that's not me. Actually, more-- that's why I avoid cynicism. It really is.

.... And you could call it simple, but to me that just doesn't say anything negative about its worth.

And "Take Me Home" is more developed, but this one is just as good, and it is the first.

(10/10)

P.S. One word about music critics-- whom Sting decided were subject to being tossed into the fiery underworld in "Saint Augustine in Hell"; I'm only surprised that he didn't think to draw in Chaucer or the Venerable Bede but, what can I say, great contrasts draw me in. But, anyway.

A music writer is a little bit like a "foodie" of the Anthony Bourdain sort. (And maybe he would wave his arms in disgust at One Direction, but that's not the point.) Because that's what writing about music is-- deep thinking about what makes you happy. And good music really can be more nourishing than food.

And one other thing-- although it, this writing, does have a certain intellectual layer to it, that just doesn't mean that fish and chips can't be just as pleasing and just as worthy as the finest French or Mediterranean cuisine.

And, at the risk of being a little selfish, sometimes there's just nothing wrong with eating because you're hungry and eating to you're full, or in listening to ("fish and chips") music because it makes you feel good.

"I want I want I want, (but that's crazy); I want I want I want (and that's not me); I want I want I want-- to be loved by you."

I want apple pie and ice cream and muffins. ;)