Author: J T. Ramsay
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You should be careful out there.
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He might have considered including barbershop raga.
Woebot’s latest installment may be a bit tendentious in favor of American folk tradition over the UK’s, but it’s still very interesting to see the Cecil Sharp House. [In my unscientific opinion, there’s a certain amount of valence exoticism that partially explains why Woebot might favor American over UK folk. I think the shoe’s on…
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You’re looking into the dark heart of Cliff’s Notes.
This is the first Richard Gere movie I’ve ever wanted to see, and I’m not F for Faking it. [Apologies for the trailer — it is hopelessly lame and directed at an audience who is not you, dear reader.]
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We frequently recite scenes from Back to the Future.
Hate to burst the Miracle Fortress bubble, but when all the usual suspects start shouting in the echo chamber, making comparisons to other bands floating in the same Endless Summer hype cycle [Panda Bear (love!) and Besnard Lakes (meh!)], it can all be a bit much. And a bit samey, don’t you think? I don’t…
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Those three mandatory theologies might just do you some good.
In Silence, Shusaku Endo’s novel about the Jesuitical invasion, you’re supposed to feel compassion for the missionaries. I didn’t. But today I have a review of Andrew Bird’s “Heretics” up at Paper Thin Walls wherein I wax pop theological, talk torture and quote from The Merchant of Venice…without a 200 word preamble completely unrelated to…