“a robot singing E MO TION with touching persistence” (Chris Andrews, call me)

from The Paris Review, my Sunday-afternoon laundromat boyfriend.






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Derrick Rose loves his mom down to his very bones plus I believe our children would have amazing eyebrows.

According to the fairies that visit my dreams, the Lakers will still win the series.
Until then, here's my "OH RON RON/That's not the way we practiced it" face.

"My heart, the reason I play the way I play, just everything. Just knowing about the days when I didn't feel like I wanted to practice, having all the hard times, waking me up, going to work and just making sure I'm all right and making sure the family's all right. Those are hard days." What a freaking champ. I love him. I do. Unfortunately, Kanye will be bandwagoning the fuck outta Derrick in approximately 19 minutes.




The Chi-Lites - "Are You My Woman." Because they rep Chicago with love, pride, and horns.

mp3.







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“Do I love you? Do I love you? Do I love you? Indeed I do (little darlin). Indeed I do.”

Ty and I met last year at the green-striped tube socks convention. We still keep in touch. I hope he will introduce me to some of his industry friends one day.

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Guiltlust. “Electro Wars.” Tastes like fruit when you hit it/gotta have bread to get it.

1. When you feel sucker-ish and manipulated by buying into mainstream cultural notions of what physical beauty is, even though you know logically that it's all tied to capitalism and convincing women they should be happy with their second-class citizenship, but you still can't help but think Amanda Seyfried looks superfoxy in Esquire: that, my friends, is what we refer to as guiltlust.


Lee Fields - “Ladies”

mp3.


See also:

Beyonce, who gets more inhumanly physically attractive with each passing minute, even with those bangs, yellow eyeliner, and a ridiculous cowboy hat while doing nothing to subvert the dominant paradigm and making Sony Music Entertainment, Inc., even more boatloads of money. But I tell you, all those Lady Gaga collabos look so good on her.





Related: feeling ashamed to find yourself attracted to a young, grizzled Phil Collins (!) when you come across a Genesis photo from the '70s. This is proof that even if you make awful fake-prog rock with your band, and even if you're a diminutive pasty Brit who wears a shearling coat, STYLE TRUMPS ALL. This is also proof that everything that was once fresh comes back 'round again, fashion-wise. If their pants were tighter I'd be almost positive I saw these dudes at the Cha Cha last night.







2. “Electro Wars,” via my Cratekings boyfriends. It's true, Lil Jon--Muhfuckas don't even know what the fuck they're talkin about.

Listen, I love synth and 808 as much as the next stunningly beautiful girlnerd music fan, but I am growing increasingly tired and frustrated with dudes who are “tired and frustrated with the hip hop scene,” whatever that is. So here we have a video collection of things that make me want to throw stuff across the room, including but not limited to: a predictable appearance by fucking Will.i.Am's annoying ass, Pitbull's annoying culo, a wholly inexplicable appearance by the god Premier (??!), pasty white men culture-poaching and boosting the best music Juan Atkins already made in the '80s, and 1 of the LMFAO buffoons bragging that Kanye was unhappy when they covered “Love Lockdown.” (That's quite a feat, you know. Kanye rarely gets upset.) Ugh.

Your attention please: I would like to hereby announce that my transformation into “grouchy old-timer at the party in the back of the room clutching her Mantronix and Kraftwerk records to her chest” is now complete.

3. Cough-wheeze-cough! HI SPIKE.

The latest in ESPN's 30 for 30 series is Winning Time: Reggie Miller vs. the New York Knicks, premiering Sunday night at 9. In related news, please do not call me Sunday at 9 or during the 60 minutes directly following 9. Thanks.

Reggie Miller is annoying and gives off a real strong bitchy vibe. Also, he believes himself to be quite the comedian when he calls into Dan Patrick's radio show that I listen to on the way to work; this belief is erroneous (he's not amusing in the slightest). Dan always announces him as Reggie Aloysius Miller, though, which is funny, see, 'cause that's Pat Ewing's middle name.

Anyway, Reggie as a sports figure, it must be said, is pretty compelling--somewhat because of the fact that I like New York hiphop and every New York MC has mentioned the Knicks at some point in verse, but more so because of the fact that he's mentioned in various southern-rap-odes-to-weed because Reggie Miller can be smoked, just ask 8 Ball, and also because he can be approvingly mentioned in rhyme by a New York MC, just ask Biggie (the understated “Play hard like Reggie Miller/Rapper-slash-dope dealer,” which was clearly written just 'cause Big needed something to rhyme with dealer. Oh Christopher.)

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A year and a day.

Jan. 20, 2009:

“President-elect Barack Obama was about to walk out to take the oath of office. Backstage at the U.S. Capitol, he took one last look at his appearance in the mirror.” (Official White House photo, Pete Souza)



Obamic Accomplishments lauded in apt. 302: Economic stimuli of varying sorts, health care (pre-Massachusetts straight fucking it all up), the Nobel, tax credits to offset the cost of tuition, more health insurance for more kids. And, of course: BO! Also, the Muslim world hates us a teeny bit less these days. Yes dear, of course he could be doing better. We all could. But basically, enjoy the man's feats thus far and stop throwing salt in my game. I'm looking at you, people who frequently email me to call me out on my "crush on the President." Barry O is the truth!, even if it takes you a little longer than me to see it.

I am the bard and I am the last one/I am the king and this is my castle.
I'd also like to add And you can bet your ass.



. . .

A little Obama-ry to kick off November.

1. Halloween at the White House: Swoon/delicious/yes please/I love you, President Dreamboat/participating in Halloween is corny unless you're the leader of the planet/sometimes I am cranky but really all I need is to be greeted by an image like this on the Yahoo! home page on Sunday morning and everything in life is better, all better:

Cameo - "Candy"

2.

There's that Ed Norton documentary on HBO that I need to see*; I hear it's all sugar and gloss and bathes the Prez in heartwarming golden light and fairy-tale charm, but that's because dude, we totally fucking have a President who's not a rich old white man and that right there used to only happen in fairy tales so, hey, let's celebrate with a fluffy pro-Hope, pro-Change documentary.

Sometimes I get emails from people asking me to be more critical of Prez Dreamboat. Aw damn, see, I find that doing so would be an inappropriate use of my wit, intelligence, and comedy skills, so these critical posts of the President will probably not be happening. Haters to the left, now and forever.


*


I'm almost fainting re: Barry O., backstage lookin like James Brown about to take the Apollo stage in '73 - but it's not because of any similarities in ethnic background between the 2 of them, mind you. It's because James was a god on the mic beloved by his followers, and the Prez is a god on the mic and beloved by his followers and because he also stays on the scene/like a sex machine. (in my head)


Also, every time I see Ed Norton I remember that Ed Norton used to do naked things with Salma Hayek. I believe they were lovers for several years. You guys, you've seen Ed Norton, right? This provides conclusive evidence that ladies blessed in the womanly-body department love smart leftist dudes, no matter what the dudes look like. On a related note, I've recently discovered that the leftist, brilliant, but rather unfortunate-looking Bill Maher has a comely ladyfriend. I am hereby officially announcing my official ladycrush on Bill Maher's official ladyfriend.

See? Foxy.
(the one on the left)

3. Michelle Obama is a fucking G, I mean a real bona fide power hitter. She'll take your seat at the Yankee game, Rudy Giuliani!, and then turn and smile at you with grace and decency, and you love her cashmere twinset so much, you just sigh and realize you really wanted to sit in the upper deck behind left field. The seats just to the right of the Yankees' dugout are overrated. OH MICHELLE, you're always right.

"I'm the New York power hitter." - Juju.
No you're not, Juju. Michelle is. Thanks for providing me with a half-assed excuse to post this song and relive '01, though. 8 years later, the average cat still don't even know his fate. Crazy.

Beatnuts - "No Escapin' This"

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I'ma die harder like my kid Bruce Willis

“You wanna know why? Because I'm -
October 31, that is my date of birth/I got to the party, you know what I did? The Smurf.”

King Ad Whammy, it's the anniversary of your birth and despite the years we've known each other, words have yet to express my hot throbbing love for you and the way you make my heart soar up up and AWAYYY, and not only because of the way you have rendered your hegemony within the world of Nasal Caucasoid Rap or because you're in the pocket just like Grady Tate, you're fuel injected/rhyme connected/running things, and you got more bounce to the fucking bumpin. What's happened is that everyone in rap-ery these days is either a lunatic, in jail, Canadian and dumb, getting punched in the face by a '90s god, or making Jimmy Fallon way doper than he deserves. There's only a handful of good dudes - Doom, Masta Ace, Black Milk, Guilty, Mos, and mayyybe like 3 others and they're all on Duck Down. So I think I love/appreciate you now more than ever.

And here's the update on my list of OG Hot Older Judaic Man Crushes: you're still way high up there, right between your dad and Rahm Emanuel; congrats.



PS, Licensed to Ill is 23 years old tomorrow! Nov. '86! And no, dudes at the bar aged 24-40, you and your boys still can't make something like it just by "fuckin around in the studio with 3 Zeppelin records and some 808."






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If not for my vices and my bugged out desires...

I would convert for any of these 4.
Um...shana tova? (am I saying that right?)

“I mix business with pleasure way too much
I mean wine, and women, and song and such
I don't get blue; I got a mean red streak
You don't pay the band your friends and that's weak
Get even like Steven like pulling a Rambo

Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego.

Steal from the rich and I'm out robbing banks
Give to the poor and I always give thanks
Because I've got more stories than J.D.'s got Salinger
I hold the title and you are the challenger
I've got money like Charles Dickens
I got the girlies in the Coupe like the Colonel's got the chickens
Always go out dapper like Harry S. Truman
I'm madder than Mad's Alfred E. Newman.”







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I was born in south Philly on a cement floor.

Mel D. Cole photo.

My boyfriends Barnes & Noble and I have a lovely relationship in which I visit them and use their stuff and they don't ask me for anything in return (not even to take my top off!; I'm pretty sure they're gay). So I go to their place and read things for free without buying them - lady magazines that try to teach me how to hide my hips with the magic of clothing, only I do the opposite of what the mags say because why would I want to hide the source of all my power in life? That would be foolish. I always get Harper's and Mother Jones and The Nation too, so that my brain does not stop working from too much dumb overload from the content of lady magazines. Urb is OK; I'll read it if I have to, but ever since Ray Roker stopped being so hands-on my heart's just not in it. And just today, my eyeballs got assaulted by Kid Cudi on the cover. He was making a funny, sort of squinty face and doing a hand gesture that he couldn't even think up on his own (it's called "The DeBeers," and it was appropriated from Shawn Carter and/or Diamond Dallas Page).


The related feature inside is about all of the retail stores he worked at while pursuing a music career, with associated pictures (Amer Apparel, Dean & DeLuca, BAPE). It's a cute idea but its one tragic flaw is that it stars Kid Cudi. It has been therefore been filed under "Nobody Cares" in my life. (In the upcoming issue that I edit, we'll find out where Pete Rock, Brian Eno, Hi-Tek, and Brian Wilson worked in their youth; it will win awards).

The issue gets saved by that picture of ?uestlove above (there's a feature on the photographer who snapped it). My day has been excellent ever since I saw it, and it's been making me think of musical pleasures from Philadelphia all afternoon because, how many times do I have to tell you, this is me and this is just how my brain is. Love me, love my nerdery.

I've never been to Philly but it probably can't compete with apt. 302 anyway - I already have all the sons of the city, Gamble & Huff and Hall & Oates and like 50 of my favorite rappers and the Delfonics and the Stylistics, right here with me in my record collection (plus I got Nutella and Red Stripe here, as much as you want until you pass out from satisfaction). And I've never met Ahmir Thompson but that doesn't mean we're not meant to be special friends, the kind that record shop together while trying to calm all the sexual tension between us. I steal glances when we go get a cheesesteak and visit the Rocky steps together.

Some damn tightly-woven metaphors for love have come from the Philly music scene over the years, and 2 of the greats are right here - boxing and traffic - speaking right to me about my feelings: the Soul Survivors talkin bout my love car getting caught amongst all the other cars on the way to ?uestlove's heart, and Teddy P describing that punched-in-the-face feeling that being in love with a large-haired percussionist will give you. It really does look like another love TKO; Teddy's right. Plus I wanted to use the song and I'm never gonna do a "Back in the Day" post, so it worked out perfectly.


Teddy Pendergrass - "Love TKO"

mp3.



Look at these dudes. Now go get 1/10 of that level of style. Then come see me when you're ready.

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New Blu! Monch will be so pleased.

I forgot to include him on my "Going Steady" list 'cause I'm a dummy, but he's my boy, he's Monch's boy, he's Frank Ricard's boy. He's Blu. And he just put this instro tape out for me. And it's ready for download. And because I'm more than just a nerdy brain and some long eyelashes, I will now display how I'm the nicest person you know and I'll share the download with you. Aww.


Blu - "NoSleepForADay." (.ZIP - YouSendIt)


7 tracks. 8 1/2 minutes. Rhodes goodness.


"Peaz&Blessings,
ItsYaBoy,FellBackForASec
ButTheOverDoseIsComing,
SlowlyThough
WeGoneStartItOffWithSomeFunTimeShit
IDidThisOneDayThisSummer
FuckingAroundWithThe2000XLForTheFirstTime
WasGettingTheIntroduceToTheFunctions
AndThisIsWhatBlossomedFromTheCrashCourse
ALittle8MinuteBeatTapeAppropriatelyTitled
"NoSleepForADay"
ProducedByTheBluAsBulb(theBrightIdea)

Enjoy,AQuickApetizerBeforeTheBreakfastSpecial
7DaysOnly,USendIt,GoesFast,UKnowTheStee"

- MySpace

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Oddisee is my genius of love.

I am currently going steady with J-Zone, Jay Smooth, Rafi, the bassline from "The Lovecats," President Dreamboat, all the Ego Trip boys, Del's flow/voice, Adrock in '87, and the whole A side of Astral Weeks. I'm like the neighborhood bicycle, I know.

Anyway, the newest member of my harem is Oddisee, whom I've loved for some time now but I'm finally ready to take it to the next level. Dude means business! (Tee hee. Pun!)

I missed "Song for That" when it first came out; it's from waaay back in '08 and it is a brilliant and pretty combination of a flow with style and grace, and production by M-Phazes with style and grace. I’d be lyin if I said that there’s another like myself/I’d be lyin if I said that I ain’t want it for the wealth/While tryin to stay supplyin ‘em with something that could help.
He's so dreamy with that DC way about him that he's got me singing Tom Tom Club to myself. It's real love this time; I just know it.


Oddisee - "Song for That"

mp3.

I'm.

in.

heaaaaaa

vennnn.

With my boyfriend, my laughing boyfriennnd.


Let's go out for ice cream, Oddisee. We can bond over mutual blog trials and tribs.

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Me & Monch are soul mates. Fresh dipped. Luda & The Game & ladyparts.

1. As you know, I have been planning to marry this Pharoahe from Queens for like 15 years now. The wife of a pharaoh is called simply queen. This is important information you'll need for the future when you address me in public. Queen Logan Monch. Start practicing.

Monch spends time with cute Upper West Side kids (circa '02) and now we must be united in holy matrimony forever and ever. Damn, dude's awesome totally/When he rides the bass line like Ginóbili.

The little girl with glasses to his right, oh my god, is killing me.

Plus we have the same taste when it comes to the rap music.

“I like this kid Blu. There’s a difference between when someone is heralded and placed in a position to be the next and then there’s a difference when someone just has 'it.' I don’t know what he looks like, I’ve never seen him perform, I just heard the song and I’m like 'kid’s special'. I’m excited about his career in the sense of a fan, like I wanna purchase the music like back in the days 'n shit and pick it up and support him. I'm looking forward to purchasing this shit, like a young fucking kid again. There’s a lot of new dope artists.”

- Urb interview

I like this kid Blu too! And I do know what he looks like. And it's distracting. But he is excellent.

I approve of your taste, Monchichi. CALL ME. I wanna know what love is/I want you to show me.





2. Oh lookie, yet another clothing item you should wear to the bar if you want me to eye you from across the room admiringly even though it's yet another Cey-Adams-ian design jack! Proceeds from the sale will be donated to the families of Baatin & J Dilla and that is lovely. Courtesy of my baby brother.








3. Hey, I know a ludicrous game we can play! It's called "Let's See How Long Logan Can Curl Up With Her Precious Copy of Critical Beatdown Until Frightening Musical Situations Like This Subside."



And then we play Round 2, which is called "This Song Has Already Been Done and It Was Done In A Far Superior Manner," where we rattle off song titles by Kool Keith, Slick Rick, Too $hort, and 2 Live Crew.




. . . .

On the contrary, Mike Jackson: Oh YES.

A post in which I try to tear myself away from my headphones, full of

Brother Ali's "Us" (posted because I dislike the sulk-rap constantly greenlit by Rhymesayers but Ali has this ability to stylishly invalidate others when he says words into a microphone)

mp3.


and


The Big Pink's "Dominos" (posted because I'm easy when it comes to headphone delights. I don't like the biting of MGMT--that whole drum loop is boosted!, I don't like the biting of Robertson/Helm/Danko/Hudson/Manuel, and I already heard this band called the Stone Roses and that was last decade, oh and I already heard this singer called Richard Ashcroft in a different band and that too was last decade. But I also like big booming shiny songs with rubbery basslines [01:53] that make me feel sparkly and/or like I'm playing lasertag.)

mp3.



while trying not to sound like a groupie for Oh No.

I'm goin in.

______________________________________________________________

The news about this album is a couple days old, but shoot, can't stop won't stop--it's all Ethiopian samples (!), flipped and bounced, which is just further proof that Oh No and I are meant to be. I'm already practicing my signature, like Logan No.
Mrs. Logan No.
Dr. and Mrs. No.
Hm.


Dr. No's Ethiopium snippets mix.

mp3.



But first, let me remind you to stick with me, kid, 'cause your crossword game is looking a little ragged these days.

Otis' brother. Superfox. Hometown hero.

Addis Ababa is the capital of Ethiopia and this is always in the LA Times crossword.
I know this one important thing about Ethiopia, other than that all the Selassie I basics that any kid of filthy hippies would know. And now that this Ethiopium music situation is perhaps coming sometime soon but we're not sure exactly when? (real cute, Stones Throw), Oh No and I will have so much to discuss about this mighty African nation that we might be able to keep each other from talking about Galt MacDermot for 6 or 7 minutes at dinner tomorrow night.

So guess what, I just shut up about Dr. No's Oxperiment like a week ago even though it came out in '07. So obnoxious, but please realize: my native village in Cali is 5 minutes from his native village in Cali, The Ox--South Ox, South South Ox--so maybe I had a right to be a little excited. And yes, Me and Mos are lovely, thanks for asking. Things are still strong between us, but before rocking with the Def on "Supermagic" I was going steady with the pure, untouched instro in '07, 'cause sorry Dante, it's better.
(That little shuffle-y drum part before it re-loops itself like 40 seconds in? OH it's murder. In a good way.)

The album seems like quite the project and I'm damn appreciative. Thanks to the Jackson family, the city of Oxnard, Chris Manak, audio encoding formats that allow music to be lovingly...borrowed? by me and all the other children of the Internets, my headphones, and you, dear, for getting me a vinyl copy of the record when it comes out. Also, postdated shouts ('07 again) to Mike for crafting this song about my sweet lovin:




and for producing this:

Guilty Simpson - "Killer."

mp3.



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Random Tribute: Rapaport's speech in "Beautiful Girls"

Before we were inundated with x amount of cinematic vehicles for grown-up white men to talk about how hard it is for them to be grown-up white men (hi Judd Apatow, and please see yourself out, Judd Apatow), there was this Beautiful Girls situation that happened during a magical time of wonder and merriment called, say it with me now: THE NINETEEN-NINETIES! These days, of course, I have no interest in seeing dudes on the big screen talking about Life Issues with their boys or painfully analyzing whether the prospective wife is really gonna maintain it as the ride-or-die chick after the wedding--it's kinda boring, I could be doing other things with my time, and this topic is always handled as if ladies don't go through this same experience of wondering whether The One is really The One.
But nobody likes a complain-y lady blogger (myself included) so lemme get back to the sweetness and light and nerdiness that you guys all seek from HeightFiveSeven Enterprises.

OhandbythewaydidImention that the movie is pretty great? (I promise I'm not just saying that 'cause of the special place I have in my '80s-hiphop-nerd heart for Yo! MTV Raps). All the boys in the crew are so goddamn sweet (Max Perlich can do no wrong), they don't care about Louis V luggage or diamond baguettes, they appreciate a blonde-highlight-haired skinny girl who likes sports, plus I bet you they could fix my car or at least tell me why it's making that rattling sound.

PS, as a young lady with a smart mouth and a dude's name, I must give an extra loud shout to Johnny up the street from my parents' house who immediately started calling me "Marty" after the movie came out in '96. I didn't appreciate this until years later.
(Sorry, Johnny! Thank you, Johnny!)



And now, I present to you Mike Rap's best work since working at PopCopy, naming his son after Maseo in De La, and almost getting a hit put out on him by the Mau Maus.

“A beautiful girl can make you dizzy, like you been drinking Jack and Coke all morning. She can make you feel high, full of the single greatest commodity known to man - promise. Promise of a better day. Promise of a greater hope. Promise of a new tomorrow. This particular aura can be found in the gait of a beautiful girl. In her smile, in her soul, in the way she makes every rotten little thing about life seem like it's going to be okay. The supermodels, Willy? That's all they are - bottled promise. Scenes from a brand new day. Hope dancing in stiletto heels.

A beautiful girl is all-powerful, and that is as good as love.
That's as good as love.”

Scott Rosenberg wrote the lines; he also worked some screenwriting magic for High Fidelity, which you can totally see, right? (white men, wounded psyches...stop me if you've heard this before)


Neil Diamond - "Sweet Caroline"



mp3.



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I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked...

James Franco has been cast as groundbreaking beatnik poet Allen Ginsberg in the biopic Howl.

I already do not care for this feature film, yet another casualty of the giant culture-raping machine known as the studio industry (can't knock the hustle, but that doesn't mean I need to support the hustle with my cash), HOWEVER--

this provides a reason for me to ask why the f has nobody cast James Franco to play Jeff Buckley? Do it, Harvey Weinstein! Watch my estrogen levels soar to new heights! (Please save yourselves cyber-energy, you guys, if you're planning on sending me some hater-ish messages about this being a travesty. I was an English major, I love Ginsberg, I've shaken his hand, I love the Beats, I love "Grace" like anybody with their music game extra proper. I truly don't want to see any Ginsberg OR Buckley on the big screen--but sometimes my womanhood and crush on Franco gets the better of me, please understand. I usually don't find pretty dudes like him foxy, but what can you do.)

Obvs it would not be the lovely sexy cinematic explosion of, say, 3 Stacks playing Jimi (which might be for the best, since I doubt I could handle my throbs sitting there surrounded by people at ArcLight). But still.

OMG, Twinsies!

logan_melissa @T.I.: Get 'em, boo boo!

T.I. is not a Twitter twerp and that's one more way he's captured my heart and therefore we shall be together for ever and ev-errrrrr. Swoon.

(It's ok for me to be on there, mind you. Let's not get carried away. I just don't care for dudes that need to tell the world that they're, I don't know, climbing a tree or something. Or still in line at the Coffee Bean, or their mom's pancakes are OMG to diiiie for, or there's mad traffic on Fountain, or whatever. Kindly be quiet. Just do your thing and stop shouting about it. A certain bikini-clad blogger finds nothing appealing about your self-centered exhibitionism. Keep that up, sirs, and you're gonna earn yourself a "Nobody Cares" report.)*

"I’m an old fashioned type of dude, I’ll write you a letter, hand it to a pigeon and let em fly it to you…" Amen, Tip.
A. Men.



*All mah dudes who are on there now, just for the record, have used Twitter in a responsible and oh-so-masculine way. Hi fellas! Additionally, the irony of this web logger calling out dudes for being exhibitionist and self-absorbed on the Internets is not lost on me. However, I feel that I can make a convincing case for myself and shut down your argument. Let's get coffee sometime and discuss it.

Amir.

Beth Fladung.

Del - "Get It Right Now" video

That looped car alarm sound, get with me on this one! I guess I could kinda see how some would find the beat dull and/or repetitive after a while, but in case you haven't noticed, Del is the alpha and omega when it comes to saying rhymed words. This is not up for debate.

I was just frontin

Some streetwear boutique in Mexico had some event for some music festival this week, and my diamond-dipped ex-boyfriend was there. I'm pretty sure he's like 5'6", his falsetto is annoying, and it's true, he can't skate, but it's going on like 10+ years that he and his almighty SPY CHORD have held a special, throbbing place in my heart. Goddammit.
I hate myself for this post. Let us never speak of it again.

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - "Young Adult Friction"

I just discovered is that this song is used in an Urban Outfitters ad and that is not killing it. I heard the song and loved it before those jackasses ever touched it with their filthy paws, promise. And please, can we all talk about the fact that the song is about gettin it in the library and that's the kind of thing that gets my good-girl motor going? Young Adult Friction, see, it's a pun!

"Between the stacks in the library
not like anyone stopped to see
we came, they went, our bodies spent
among the dust and the microfiche."

Young Adult Friction - The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

PS--bass player Alex, please accept my crush request even though you like boys.