'The Events Leading up to the Collapse of Detective Dullight' is not a song but a narrative story, and it’s funny as hell. The off-kilter character voices of the already brilliant stream-of-consciousness plot are cartoonish enough for their own Saturday morning series. When the detectives start their investigation nothing makes sense. There’s Jell-O, serenading butterflies, file cabinets, murder, catacombs, and all the seasonings for a hilarious dream. I am usually brought to tears when Detective Slots reads from his revered exercise in free verse titled ‘The Cause of Gauze’. I will supply you with a sample:
"Oh, the cause of gauze. The Manuels have fondled many memories from my lap though each memory has its own lap and swimmers swim laps. Even swimmers have laps however and while in that condition many require a delicate gauze."
If you hear this without purchasing the actual album, 'Coquelicot Asleep in the Poppies: A Variety of Whimisical Verse,' then you are being cheated. The dreams of this band are as colorful as the illustrations they provide us in their album sleeves. The 'Where's Waldo' pictorial representations enrich the listening experience by engaging us in a journey deep into the frying-pan brains of these madmen. In fact, this is a perfect introduction into a very strange world of psychedelicado. Think the Beach Boy's 'Smile.' The reaction of my friends after hearing this have been harmoniously the same, 'they have to be on drugs.' The truth is Of Montreal are not on drugs, they are drugs.

I didn't know it then, but when I purchased the album 'In the Aeroplane Over the Sea' my world changed. When I put the album into my CD player, I did it with a naivete of someone who thought they'd 'heard it all.' I did it clumsily, with haste, handled like a Beatles or Beach Boys album, the way I had done for years. When I listened to the album I did it with reckless abandon while driving 38 miles per hour on my lunch break, and later in the drive-through at McDonald�s. These mistakes were inherited, and I refuse blame. They were passed through the genetic make-up of our peers and born out of the music we've been given; I didn't expect this! Well, our music has changed, and it did so without our knowing and our approval. This album proved and disproved an entire treatise of critical analysis on a generation of music that I thought I had known, and it did so with a fucking velvet sledgehammer.

The lyrics: "And one day we will die and our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea, but for now we are young let us lay in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see." More lyrics: "What a beautiful face I have found in this place that is circling all around the sun, what a beautiful dream that would flash in the screen in a blink of an eye and be gone from me." The melody: A timeless, haunting thing that was metaphysically resurrected from a wiser place. The voice: Wrenched out of the jaws of a holocaust from 50 years ago, we hear a possessed Jeff Mangum invest his soul. The sound: An apocalypse that can reinvent the turntable by it�s simplistic form; with a saw, guitar, drum, bass, horns, and lord knows what else all handled with deceptive elegance of a garage mechanic constructing a supermodel. And, lastly, the spirit: A tragedy and rape of virginity known only to the persecuted and executed; the ghost of Anne Frank materializes long enough to show us her world, and in her hands we are strangely at peace.

This song is a gift very few will experience. It is endless in its reach and should be accepted like a sibling into your collection. It will one day prove itself beyond category, but for now it is a masterful novel from the hands of a mysterious songwriter who should know how sincerely I cherish his songs.

'Bright Eyes' O'Connor Oberst is a gifted lyricist and probably the best for his age (19 at record release). With his literary references and unconventional recording, listening to Bright Eyes is quite an experience. In this instance we meet the protagonists of the novel, 'The Unberable Lightness of Being,' and find in their weightlessness the desire to escape. Slow acoustic struming by O'Conner steady his intense vocals and between the chimes and reverberating forte piano we experience a disjointing storm used to great effect. The song has us drifting at sea with a delicate melody until we are at last erased like a skeleton in chalk. Bright Eyes sings - 'Let's sail away disappearing in a mist. Let's sail away with a whisper and a kiss. Or vanish from a road somewhere, like Tereza and Tomas, suspended in this bliss.' We feel his expressive words and sound pass through us, and late in the day we find it echoing softly in our heads. Quite an accomplishment for someone who couldn't drink yet, I look forward to following his career.

If the sun would rise in a minor key, this is what it would sound like. The shadows dissolve around you in warm harmony, even death sunbathes here, in a song ripe with hope and humanity. It is a misnomer to 'Fade Out' when we are held not by darkness, but by light. The paralysis of a dreary existence is manifested in the 'Street Spirit' where 'cracked eggs, dead birds scream as they fight for life' and 'machines will not communicate these thoughts and strain I am under.' If we were to stifle the creative spirit all we would need to do is look down a suburb and notice the lack of aesthetics and individuality of the homes. 'Rows of houses all bearing down on me...all these things will one day take control and fade out again.' This is the prelude to the bigger picture found in Radiohead's songs. Sure they dwell on the robotics of Orwell's '1984', and at times they are tedious and painfully accurate, nevertheless they leave us with an indelible desire to survive. 'Immerse your soul in Love' wags it's tail at the end of the song to insure a new beginning, much like the death of night. When sung, it is a very exciting moment as Thom's voice soars above the convolutions of the incessant guitar picking and synth-strings. Not the most popular Radiohead song, but their brightest moment to be experienced.

I'm into blonde women, always have been. Perhaps I share a kindship with the late great Jeff Buckley. I can just imagine where he's coming from, standing on stage, electric guitar amped to rock, all that power in his hands, peering out through the crowd into a yard of blonde girls. How wonderfully empowering! Just think of it? A young man in his prime slashing power chords in front of a legion of women, and leaving this song to remind us of what it's like to live this mythical life. I sing along, dreaming of what it would have been like as a rock star, what kind of pleasure could I derive from the world?

Jeff has certainly proven and disproven his own stylings from the seminal album, Grace, to the somewhat obscure and fragile My Sweetheart the Drunk. What could have been still reverberates through my mind when listening to this song in particular. Its compelling simplicity and catchy chorus, "very sexy, very sexy, okay, okay" beckons my blonde girlfriend to break out into song. The slow thrust of crunching guitars, standard rock 4/4 time, heavy drums sitting on every beat - it's almost glam, almost British invasion, almost cock-rock, but Buckley style. And yes, very sexy, very sexy. Trust me guys, girls will love this song!