A glowing, balanced, and fair-minded review of Vacationist League's EP Unjust Intonations,
by Pete Swotato
I received a package in the mail today. It has only a return address-- no postage, no address. I'm not sure why I open it; the handwrit [+]A glowing, balanced, and fair-minded review of Vacationist League's EP Unjust Intonations,
by Pete Swotato
I received a package in the mail today. It has only a return address-- no postage, no address. I'm not sure why I open it; the handwriting is familiar, Ellen is angry with me, and ever since the waffle iron incident I strive to live each day as if it were my last. It would be much easier to open this package if that damn Gang of 4 song would stop rattling my brain. "Love'll get you like a case of Anthrax / and that's something I don't want to catch." That's one damn straight sediment breath impediment sentiment... I relate though I'd rather not. Ellen's rattling pans in the kitchen, which is a joke, because she can't cook. She needs a recipe to whip cream-- every year at Thanksgiving she's frantically rushing around searching for her orange index card while her mom looks at me sympathetically and rolls her eyes. And should I forget to chill the bowl and beaters for her, she stomps to the freezer and digs way back for a 2-year old tub of Cool Whip, slams it down on the table next to the pumpkin pie and says "Sorry everyone, but I can't offer you any freshly prepared whipped cream today, Pete didn't chill my bowl and beaters." Then it's Christmas before my bowl and beaters get thawed, if you know what I mean. Anyway, she's probably looking for the extra coffee filters-- I thank God that she can at least make her own cup of coffee.
Inside the package is a flat clear plastic tombstone shaped clamshell CD case. Inside the flat clear plastic tombstone shaped clamshell CD case is the new EP CD titled Unjust Intonations by Vacationist League. I struggle mightily to exhume the CD, but I can't break the code. The chorus of a John Martyn song, titled "Dealer" begins coursing through my brain. "Let me in. Let me in. Let me in sweet darling. Let me in. Let me in." I feel both silly and desperate calling a CD "sweet darling," but I don't dwell on it. At long last I notice a small round button in the very center of the case, with four cryptic letters molded into the plastic, P, U, S, and H. These guys are tricky, no bout adoubt it.
I lay the CD, matte finish with black letters side up, in the player tray and press play. I never use t
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