Beach Party Tonight (Part 2)

It’s not too obscure, but not so sickeningly mainstream. Its subject matter fits the occasion, of course. And it’s melodic, easy to sing to, builds to an anthemic chorus at the end, and for all that easy to sustain with just an acoustic guitar and voice. And the lyrics. Happyish, technically even optimistic, but devastating in their finality, once you really listen to them there’s no going back.

Son, You’ll Be a Plumber Someday

You might be surprised by my father's wish to be sent off to sea; the sea, water in its unpiped form, disorganized, rowdy and boisterous, not a help to anyone who wants to wash his hands or make some tea, or soup maybe. Yet my father, even if he did not love it, had always held a deep respect for the mighty, churning sea. To him, a body of water was not chaos, not disunity, but instead represented the potential, the possible plumbing system, water that could be piped from one reservoir to another, the Atlantic a conduit of copper that channeled its salty deep waters from the Americas to Europe, the Mississippi a mighty pipeline pumping downstream across the Midwest, unparalleled in its immense and unwavering water pressure.


You’re willing to put up with a lot… until one day you don’t. You snap and say I’ve had enough already. You capitulate, you buy a newer model, so to speak. You’re not even really helping yourself when you do, it’s just so you can hopefully not notice the truth starting right at you: that the world was not built for you. Your home, your city, the people around you, everything, is your enemy.