Despite the way it may seem, I didn’t start this series as a way of heaping cheap scorn on past-their-prime recording artists. That kind of cynical criticism is very easy to find, and while I admit it can be fun to kick a little dirt on the corpse of a crappy musician’s career, what really fascinates me is what happens to an artist’s muse after people stop paying attention to the music. I think, in a lot of cases, that this is where the really interesting stuff happens — there’s something about that combination of bitterness, confusion, and having nothing to lose that seems to add up to magic. Well, maybe not magic, necessarily, but at least stuff that’s different and unpredictable.
But then there are albums like this. WHAT THE HELL IS THIS.
Ladies, here's a little-known fact about many guys: If you break up with them, but then don't leave, they will very possibly assume that you weren't the SLIGHTEST BIT SERIOUS about the breaking-up thing, and will hang around more or less waiting for that glorious