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Drip.FM offers an interesting new way for music lovers to connect with their favorite record labels. The platform is free to participating labels, with no sign-up costs or usage fees; Drip.FM makes money when the participating labels make money, through a revenue share on sales. Labels set their own user-fees for access to a Drip.FM account. While content varies depending on the label, fans can expect to receive digital files (MP3 and WAV) of new titles on the day they are released (or sooner); randomly selected back-catalog titles; and plenty of enticing perks, such as exclusive, subscription-only tracks and remixes, and other giveaways (imagine: t-shirts, posters, LPs, CDs, concert tickets).

Back in June, AudioStream’s Michael Lavorgna reported on Domino’s new Drip.FM service.

Founded by Ghostly International and currently operating in closed beta, Drip.FM has also partnered with Dead Oceans, Dirtybird, Fool’s Gold, Luaka Bop, Mad Decent, Morr Music, Now-Again Records, Planet E Communications, Stones Throw, Wav.Pool, and now Jagjaguwar.

I recently signed up for an account with Jagjaguwar.

The Massachusetts island called Martha's Vineyard, a tourist destination with a year-round population of only 18,000, is home to at least a hundred T-shirt shops, scores of seafood shacks (the calamari at Nancy's is amazing), dozens of ice-cream parlors, and three unpleasant cute-tiques called The Black Dog. Residents and vacationers alike are also served by an excellent store called Aboveground Records (8 Great Harbor Triangle, Edgartown, MA 02539).

My latest addiction is “Stuff I’ve Been Reading,” Nick Hornby’s column for The Believer. I know: It's very hipster/nerdy of me to be reading this stuff; you might even think I live in nerdy Brooklyn. But, I swear, I live in Jersey City, and I have completely sincere and profound reasons for reading The Believer and "Stuff."

Not only does it remind me of how much I admire and enjoy Hornby’s writing—he’s clear, deep, funny, and extremely likable even when he’s being snarky and clever—but it also fuels my passion for reading. And when I read, I feel like a better person: stronger, smarter, healthier, whatever. Profound, see?

When I read, I at least feel like I have something to say. When I read, I’m happy.

You should check it out. In the preface to Housekeeping vs. the Dirt, the second of four published collections of “Stuff,” Hornby reminds us that reading addresses many of our needs, none more important than simple pleasure. Read the books you like, and don’t let anyone tell you that you shouldn't enjoy Moby Dick or The Hunger Games or whatever.

There’s something to be learned here, even for you know-it-all audiophiles.

One of my formative audiophile experiences was the first time I heard electrostatic speakers. I walked into an audio store and heard music played by a live jazz combo. But where were the musicians? I saw none, though I did notice a couple of room-divider panels in the part of the store where the music seemed to be coming from. Eventually, it dawned on me that these must be loudspeakers—but they sounded like no other speakers I'd ever heard, and nothing like the Advents I had at home.

Fred Hersch's new double-disc album (on the Palmetto label) might be called Alive at the Vanguard, instead of the customary Live at . . . , for two reasons. First, it's a declaration that Hersch, who's had HIV-positive for many years and not long ago slipped into a coma for six months, is alive. Second, this music is alive: fire-breathing with adventure, dance, spirits of all sorts . . .

In the old days, when audio-show reports routinely appeared in the print edition of Stereophile, life was easier. I spent my show days visiting exhibitors and listening to new gear, but I decorated those days with record shopping, dining out, and staying up late to visit with friends in the industry. And because hard-copy deadlines always seemed to be at least a few days away, I would wait until I'd returned home before doing any actual writing.

Other than the fact that they’re a bunch of cute girls with a suitably high level of cute-girl energy, Teen isn’t the sort of band I typically get into. They’re not rapping about sex and money; they’re not just turning knobs on analog synths or chopping up bits of field recordings; they’re not sampling obscure 78s; they’re not playing 24 saxophones at once; they’re not making their guitars sound like vacuum cleaners; they’re not really lo-fi, but they’re certainly not hi-fi; they’re neither terribly weird nor completely normal. They’re somewhere in between. And, if you know me, you know that I tend to run screaming from that sort of thing. But there’s something about Teen’s sound, despite the fairly straightforward instrumentation (guitars, drums, keys, voices, percussion) that keeps me coming back.

That, by itself, is probably reason enough to buy the record, but I remain conflicted.