so anyway, this makes me think of being sixteen, and walking slowly through a cemetery at dusk...uh, what it really reminds me of is pacing my room, wishing i had the energy to trek to the cemetery. classic early cure. on the first cd i ever bought.

A soft-spoken paean to the dear-departed Syd Barrett (drowned in a psychedelic abyss), an acoustic lullaby weaving a dreamscape cocoon, a hymn to self-destruction. Too heart-breakingly beautiful for the living: Play this at my funeral.

Starts with a piano tinkling up and down the scale, and then the whole Latin Orchestra starts, ultimately Edmundo's raspy voice bellows out of the speakers sounding for all the world like Shaggy's drunken grandfather. Kind of Rhumba, very very danceable, surprisingly modern sounding with a terrific breakdown to the piano in the middle. Beware Edmundo ros has done another version of La Bamba which is terrible.

Ha! Good luck finding this one. Hot little hopes is a storm in a teacup about going out on a night with high expectations by a band who never got the sucess they deserved. The music is sublime; a string and brass waltz that builds to a delirious gallop, but it's the lyrics and their delivery that make it special, and confirm BHJ as a lost treasure. Johnny Brown is a songwriter whose lyrics are great writing in their own right; much of his work reads like documentary, the man has a spectacular talent for transcribing the ordinary while maintaining strict disciplines of structure and story to catch your heart in your throat. Here as elsewhere the story almost doesn't deserve to be told- it's ordinary people with ordinary hopes and fears, but the music and the telling turn it into a modern fairytale.

A goofy, yet endearing, ripoff of Chuck Berry's "Memphis", which I really cannot explain the attraction of.