Swinging Singles Club MN

  I need a snack. Here's something I'm going to listen to for the first time while I type away about it as if it's been something I've known for the last couple of decades. Thank You for Telling Me What I Already Know (2002) This is the one I got in that package I've been blathering about all over several posts on two separate blogs. It's the final album piece of the Love-Cars saga with the same link to a website that hasn't been updated in a decade. So there. The other two were sitting in the folder waiting this moment. This day.  And now that moment has arrived. It feels...I don't know...a bit empty. No wait. That's my belly. I'm going to have a snack. That's what really needs to happen.  

  I wasn't paying attention and fucked up the post timings between the two blogs. All fixed now. I feel better. Where were we.... Curse of the Selby Tigers (2002) The second full length of Pop and Punk goodness by St Paul's Selby Tigers. A solid effort that will set toes a-tappin' and hearts a-beatin' in time with the tunes. The would-be tastemakers and general turds at Pitchfork gave it a 6.4 and spent most of their article just kind of shitting on St Paul and the Twin Cities. It and we deserve better. It's capsule of a time and a place and a scene and being old enough to appreciate the fleetingness of it all. Crank it up and rock unabashedly with the windows open. It may be your last chance before winter comes.

 So the other week I had to reup my Advanced Cardiac Life Support credentials. Kind of a righteous pain in my night shift working ass because despite working for a 24/7 healthcare system they don't apparently feel like they need to offer evening classes for things they require providers to have and maintain. I kind of wasted my whole week off between it being hot as fuck and trying to flip my sleep schedule enough that I could stay awake for an eight hour class when I would normally be asleep. (but not too much because I also had only a single day to be prepared to start a long ass work week of nights) At least so long as there are COVIDiots and smokers out there, my continued employment is safe. Folklore (2002) Signal to Trust As previously discussed in the previous post and in the accompanying link above. This a continuation from the previous post. You get the picture. I'm done.

  It's still two days before we get keys to the new place. We're at a bit of standstill. Not much room to move around and it's hard to even tell how much more there is to pack anymore. Since life must still go on I was getting ready to make the big pot we'll eat for the next couple of days. I'm trying something new. a Moroccan style chicken and eggplant tagine over cous cous. I'm using a fresh head of fennel, regular ginger and adding some zucchini to up the vegetable levels for mine. I had all my prep done and was getting ready to start the cooking and assembly. Upon opening the cabinet to gather together the necessary spices I discover that we're out of paprika. This kind of stuns me a bit since for nearly as long as I can think back we'd had two different open ones in there. I must have forgotten I'd already used one when I used up the second. *sigh* So now I have a little time to kill while I wait for the grocery store to open up, I'm going ...

 So, I know what you need. You need some Punk fucking Rock. Yeah, real "stick it to the man" shit. I got you covered, fam. No Hold Back... All Attack!!! (2002) State of the art punk rock in every form imaginable circa 2002 stuffed onto two discs and ready for you to slam dance to in the privacy of your very own home. Seriously kids, there's 54 tracks spread across this double disc set of Twin Cities finest and the occasional less than finest, but perfectly adequate. Big list for the party poopers who hate surprises is at Discogs . I mean, who doesn't need some short fast rock and roll in their lives on occasion. I know I do.

  This is the sixth post on this particular mess. It's the last one about 12 Rods. That's unfortunate. I wish I had more.   Lost Time (2002)   So they followed up getting dumped by their label and an album that everybody hated by putting out a record that otherwise should have made them stars in some alternate universe where there was some kind of actual justice. Even those fickle pretentious twats over at Pitchfork like it. Stem to stern potential hits. Just listen for yourself. Raise a fist and bellow along with "Time is Right (to be Wrong)"  It's Ok, nobody's watching.

  So here were are. The deal is that I've got too much fucking stuff that I think people ought to hear and not enough time or space in which to do it on one blog. I've also been in the Twin Cities for a long ass time and have seen, heard and played with so many really good bands that it seems a shame that nobody has heard them. So I've made this even dumber blog thing to flog the local tomfoolery for your dancing and dining pleasure. Even in Minnesota, they could really give a rat's ass about your local band until you get enough recognition somewhere else that they'll proudly claim you as "From Minnesota". I mean, if you take someone iconic like Bob Dylan, who generally needs no introduction, he's inevitably referred to as "Minnesota Native Bob Dylan" any time he's brought up on local media. It's kind of annoying, but leads us into this inaugural post. Soft Rock (2002) Once upon a time there was a band called Lifter Puller . They exis...