I have a piece up at The Saturday Evening Post on why (and how) I use a typewriter.
Ernie Smith over at MidRange wrote about this song today, and after listening to it 20 times I knew I had to as well. It’s from 1980 and titled “Underground,” by a Philadelphia musician named Joey Wilson who …. well, I’ll have Ernie tell you the rest of the story. It’s a fascinating look at a lost song, the twists and turns of the music industry, and what happens to people who have the talent but don’t quite make the big time.
That’s the type of pop song they don’t make anymore. If we could somehow make a hit now. (The whole album is on YouTube.)
Sometimes I feel like a shoe salesman in a pickle factory.
I have no idea what that sentence means. I can’t even think straight anymore. 9:30am and it’s already 86 degrees and humid. Gah. And supposedly this is “nice” weather? #$%&!
We now return you to Barnaby Jones, already in progress.
I need your help (he said, sheepishly).
It costs money to do this site, the magazine, and other things I have planned (a podcast and more), so every once in a great while I
beg make a subtle pitch for donations.
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This is by Fountains of Wayne, and is definitely the prettiest song ever written about Hackensack, New Jersey.