Stephen Mejias

I'd have to agree with Tom Warren. My current favorite indie record label is also Drag City — home of Smog, Silver Jews, Joanna Newsom, The Fucking Champs, Espers, Jim O'Rourke, The Red Krayola, I could go on.

Sorry about that. Kelli and I flew off to Maine. We spent most of our time on Mt. Desert Island. "Desert," in this case, is pronounced "dessert" (with a French accent, if you like). It was good and quiet. We drove along the coast in our pathetic PT Cruiser (Touring Edition), from Portland to Bar Harbor, listening to the new TV on the Radio. It starts off like a Sonic Youth song, but the drums change it all. And then the vocals change it more. Of the words I could make out: Hey hey, my baby / Won't you lay your hands on me / Mirror my malady / Transfer my tragedy. We decided that he really does sound like Peter Gabriel.

Todd came over the other night. He always comes with a surprise. On this night, his surprise was a rough mix of the John Atkinson-recorded Multi-Purpose Solution album, In Bed.

Alright, Kristina, before you leave us for your boyfriend and Boston, before you dive into ontology and photography, before you dedicate your days to the books and your nights to the booze, before you lose track of the earth's revolutions — keeping time, instead, with semesters and exams — before all of that and everything else, if, in fact, you do decide you want to fill your spare moments with music — good music, produced with magic — then I've found a few things for you to read. I hope this will help.