Stephen Mejias

Mirror Mirror, the third album from Glasgow band Sons & Daughters, opens with a single note from a vintage synth. Barely audible at first, it grows and grows and rises vertically in the soundstage—for 15 seconds it grows: a sharp white light in an otherwise dark room—building tension, warning of some sort of danger, as it goes. This high-pitched note is met first by stomping feet, then by clapping hands—single file and far, far off, but growing in size and intensity—before finally being joined by the voices of Adele Bethel and Scott Paterson, singing, strangely singing, barely singing at all, more chanting, intoning, repeating, casting:

The Sony TC-WE475 dual auto-reverse cassette deck plays tapes(!), offers all sorts of unnecessary conveniences (like Fast-Forward and Reverse), costs $149.95, and is available NOW.

It’s one of those things. I can still clearly remember the moment I first set eyes on Sophia Knapp. She was strolling through the back room of Maxwell’s in Hoboken, NJ, with a confidence, flair, and singularity that left no room for questions: She was in the band.

A few days ago, I removed my Nintendo Entertainment System — the one I've owned since I was a young boy — from my Walmart television stand — the one I've owned for five years — and placed it on my Target bookcase. I then unplugged the Sony DVD player, wrapped up its wires, and placed it in my bedroom closet.

In a recent review of The Multi-Purpose Solution's latest album, we were kinda sorta referred to as "emo." Actually, the reviewer — Jim Testa — wrote:

Our copy editor, Richard Lehnert, sent this to me today. I love it.