love life. maybe i'm the only one in the whole world that likes them but i might want it that way. i want them to play for me, be masterful, bruding, crepe-covered spindly and smart just for me. the goth kids on the boardwalk like post-industrial nu-metal ambient techno. there is no place in this world for the languishing shadows and otherworldly creep of a sad violin, a widow with a mocking pierrot tear. strange, young fear lovecraft, who was what tolkien would have been if he stopped being epic and told a good story. crafted with the sense of the inevitable, and that sureness being absolutely sensical.

they are a band to get behind. to create fantasies around. sadly, to discover in many years and say 'why did this not change things' and to mix into tommorow-influence.

the new spin, which i read today and replaced in the general mail bin, is a travesty. tricia romano is ridiculous and wrote half of the magazine. it's bad enough she gets inches in the voice. the entire front half of the book is nu-metal girlie mag charticles, including an advice column with lil bow wow. wow, could it have gotten any worse? i had to ask. alan light, former editor and secret amerimojo wannabe, got to write a tearful tribute to left eye. it read like yesterday's hamster fodder only with the poo pre-soaked into the pages. yee haw glossies.