Stephen Mejias

Vol.19 No.3 (March 1996)

Vol.20 No.9 (September 1997)

Vol.22 No.12 (December 1999)

Alright, it's cold now. <a href="http://wcbsfm.com/WCBS-FM-Airstaff---Mr--G/2073164">Mr. G says</a> the mercury will only creep up to around the 38- or 39-degree mark today. I guess it's to be expected. We <i>are</i> deep into November. New York City in the cold, with all of the wreaths and lights and scarves and frigid breath, is beautiful. For a moment or two, that is, until I remember how much I hate this weather. It's funny, too, how I forget how unbearable it can be in <a href="http://blog.stereophile.com/stephenmejias/102606window/">my apartment</a> this time of year. I don't know how I've lived through the last three winters in that old, drafty shack.

It's Friday evening. I would like to be at home, sitting on the orange couch, a beer in my hand, the light rain tapping against my windows, listening to Grails' <i>Doomsdayer's Holiday</i>. Sounds bleak, doesn't it? But Grails are really kind of perfect for this sort of warm, rainy autumn night, with their dark mix of Eastern psychedelia, folk, metal, and free-jazz ramblings. Beautifully recorded, too, with heart-jolting impact and sweet, sweet dynamic range.

It is November 14th, and it's hot as heck outside. I wonder how many polar bears just died. That's not funny. The arctic is vanishing, the oceans are rising, we have brown clouds in the sky. Awesome. We are doomed. Screw it. Let's buy some vinyl!

<i>Jimmy Boyd's "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus." Columbia, 10" (MJV 152).</i>