Category: Music that doesn’t suck

‘Who’ll Stand With Us?’

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 27 Comments
It’s a Dropkick Murphys kind of Fourth around the Dog House. Up the rebels!

As Dropkick Murphys release a new album, “For the People,” frontman Ken Casey has a few thoughts about the big red pickle in which we find ourselves during our annual Independence Day picnic.

Speaking with Jeffrey Goldberg, editor-in-chief of The Atlantic, Casey said he was shocked that so many people in his life fell for Trumpism:

“My father died when I was young, and I was raised by my grandfather, who was basically like, ‘If I ever see you bullying someone, I’ll kick the shit out of you. And if I ever see you back down from a bully, I’ll kick the shit out of you.’”

“I’ve just never liked bullies, and I don’t understand people who do. It’s really not that hard. I wish more people would see that it’s not hard to stand up.”

So stand up with Dropkick Murphys and the people on this Fourth of July, and all the other ones, too, even after we kick the shit out of these bullies. And sing along, if you can keep up. Here are the lyrics for anyone who’s not fluent in Celtic punk.

R.I.P., Brian Wilson

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 9 Comments
A classic.

Now it’s dark. And he’s alone. But he won’t be afraid. Peace to Brian Wilson, his family, friends, and many, many fans.

Give us your favorite Beach Boys tunes in comments. This is one of mine.

For some reason I had “I Get Around” stuck in my head the other day. Maybe because I did. Always looking for a place where the kids were hip.

After the deluge

~ Patrick O'Grady ~ 10 Comments
Splashed stucco with a side of piñon.

We got 0.28 inch of rain yesterday in about 28 seconds, so, ’ray for us.

The deluge will not resolve our water issues, though it ended the struggles of at least one poor soul whose last known address was a washout down near Edith and Roy.

We stayed indoors where it couldn’t get us. Well, mostly.

Herself took her chances with an early run. I held out hope for a bike ride, and if I’d moved fast I could’ve had one, too.

But fast is not my speed. So instead of risking a good soaking I dithered, waffled, and procrastinated, and then finally tottered out for a short run and never even got my shoes damp, though at one point I was jogging up a sandy arroyo that feeds into that long flume ride downtown.

Then, later that afternoon, boom, down it came.