Flaming Lips - "Watching the Planets". Sometimes you reach for that crystal bottle because you want it to shatter. You want to grab it with your pink pretty hand and pour a dollop of wine and then when you take a sip - for all the monster in you to sour and redden, for your tendons to burst your gown and your eyes to glow like furnaces. You've taken a little drinky-drink, late at night, alone; and you know what that means, you know what that's supposed to mean. Stand up raging; shatter glass, bottle, cabinet and lamp; wreck everything; wreck yourself. That sip of ruby port and now you will find him, blow the sleep from his eyes. You'll roar in his face and tell him everything you've hidden. [Pitchfork did its thing today, and well; this is mine. / buy the startling and wonderful Embryonic]

Red House Painters - "Cruiser". My confession: I don't follow Mark Kozelek's story, here. I never do. I am not a story-song man. I can't trace lyrics, sung. I get lost in lilt and longing. I sink too deep into feel. And so no, I don't follow Mark Kozelek's story, here. Something about driving with a girl from Tokyo, listening to songs. I want Mark to know I feel sorry about this. I feel guilty. I have done him a dis-service, I think. But what I also want Mark to know is that even the people like me, way out here in Canada, listening to his songs without hearing the stories - we're listening real hard. We're listening and breathing, slow. We've put on records by Red House Painters and Sun Kil Moon on so many late nights, slipped into chairs, streetlights hazy through the window. We've taken these songs with us on journeys. We've treasured them. I would not give away this song, give it up, for $20. Not for $50. Would I accept $200 to never hear this song again? I do not think I would. This song whose story I never follow. It's a song I do not understand but that murmurs to me, no matter what, you do. [buy]

(photo source - thanks andrew, see you in december)