Category: Song of the Day

You can't live on the floor. You have to pull back the flaps of the yellow-orange tent in the ballroom and descend the stairs of the house on Archer Avenue to re-encounter your family, your friend, your falcon. You can't exist, disconnected from social reality, on a...

Cowboy Grizzly's 'Southern Rider' paints a beautifully shimmering portrait of the southwest, a land whose yellow Guadalupe violets have been driven into a high-desert corner, but whose soul is carried in the gritty sand between the toes of its tanned orphan children....

Who do you see when you look in the mirror? A few years back I saw my dad, but shit didn't get real until I started seeing my grandfather. That's OK. On the internet, you can be anything you want to be. And give me enough bandwidth and I can become a thirty-something...

Dusk makes American music, an America with one foot in Liverpool and the other south of the border in the realm of Doug Sahm and Augie Meyers. The left hand is splayed across Tennessee with digits touching Clinch Mountain, Nashville, and the rockabilly bars of...

When we got home, I took the green glass epergne that belonged to Aunt Mildred off the sideboard and smashed it with a hammer. Then I dumped Grandmother’s sewing box into the ash can, burned a big hole in her lace tablecloth, and buried her pewter in the garden. Out...

There was a time when singers did not need auto-tune, backing tracks, costume changes, or a crew of dancers. They just got up on stage and belted it out. Janis Joplin was and is one of the greatest singers to stalk a stage, delivering her blues with a comforting hand...

But we decide which is rightAnd which is an illusion- from "Late Lament" by Graeme Edge Friends existed entirely within the imagination of Monica Geller. An overweight child, bullied and isolated, Monica sought refuge in her cramped room in the back of an Arkansas...

Crank up the Wayback Machine, Mister Peabody... I attended an elementary school that was flanked on the east by military surplus tarpaper-sided shacks that had been hauled in decades before to house the flood of students lured into a godforsaken state college by the...

“Warm Months” does not begin. The listener enters the room, slightly late as usual, the Green Line bus having been impeded by a thrice-dented gypsy cab. The song is already wafting through the speakers, a pair of plucked strings sketching alternating chords. Dog Mom...

The Great American Road Trip was conceived as a thing of barren majesty. Two fantastic-looking guys barreling down a completely empty highway in an enormous convertible, flanked on each side by an endless landscape. The color of the convertible is unknown since our...