Well, Cayman Thorn ain’t perfect on his song. As much as he likes to think he knows it all on that bent.
So’s . . I posted the beach song post this morn with nary a quill’s hesitation. And solely on the fact that I was spilling forth some strong cubano mug with a shotgun of Everclear.
Well, that’s not good enough.
I owe you, my dear readers, a better flow of thoughts and sound than that. And that means nothing in the negative as far as the poetry of the artful Art Alexakis is concerned, because I happen to think the man is pure genius. It’s just that, there was a better song to be had in the end game than the one I posted.
So here then, the win win of it all.
Those Decembrists. Who I adore and more. Whose songs gallivant across many a midnight’s work I happen through. Whose inspiration is giant and yes, provident and yes-yes divinely intelligent. Fury and love, thrown together in a brilliant portrait of soul banditry.
I’m skipping out for my Friday night meal, but I do hope you enjoy these guys as much as I do.
Cause we’re like that. You, me and the Decembrists.