One: sort of a review of Stewart Copeland’s Ben Hur, but really a run on, excitable meditation on music, fandom, family; a cacophonous riot, wherein complexity matters, but never overrules the sheer bombastic roar…

I bought Zenyatta Mondatta with my own money, back when I was a kid, and albums were at thing,  and we were that family – openly ‘halfbreed’ and forever under suspicion, building salt enough to resist the constant grinding. I had to have it. It was weird. It fit. I was embarrassed by these guys,…

1996: Green Mountain Road

all that lies between misadventure and disaster is this winding road the girl is in shock right thigh tied shut chattering, with her mom holding her in the back seat i drive, my stickshift purring slalom through penticton indian reserve golden grass, piney hills houses tucked and slumbering beneath bright sun of july this is…