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The book that says it all, or at least what has been said before. I must warn you to beware when a guitar-playing Jesus shows up at your “office” and asks if things are great. (And yes, he says it like that.) He then sets a book down on your desk. It is self-published and entitled “Pay . . . → Read More: Bananas Itunes recently promoted some Library of Congress podcasts, one of which was about composing with the Devil. Apparently, a musical interval called the tritone consists of starting on C then jumping up to F sharp, which is somehow tied to physics (and our brain). If you have a string for each note, the ratio of those strings . . . → Read More: Dangerous Music I’m not normally one to complain about other people’s loud music. I like my music loud too, and some tunes are simply meant to be played at ear-splitting volumes: Ozzy, Jane’s, Metallica, … Chris Isaac. I do, however, hold a certain angry, intense contempt in my heart for static: and on that note, a stereo went off the . . . → Read More: Taser Laser
A basic guitar. The first time we crossed paths the Euros seemed perfectly normal. The dude, a skinny, shaved-headed individual tugging on a cigarette, and the girl, sitting there quietly on her towel, both feigned interest in our dogs—asking the typical ‘what kind?’ ‘how old?’ and ‘what’s her name?’ Perfectly normal. On the way back . . . → Read More: The Guitar Dude |
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