Fusionoid Peckerheads

And Then the Crowd Showed Up by Tobin Sprout. What a beautiful, brilliant, flimsy little song.

The perfect mix of music, motive, and sentiment (and if you can picture it also having a ritual function: hoo wee!).

Not an anthemsomething much, much grander and sadder.

Life is worth living (ha ha ha)? Worth having been lived?

In the walled city/walled life/cyberwalled eternity.

Chimes of freedom that NEVER WERE.

In a midwinter afternoons alternate-universe acid dream.

And even this little . . . no more.

Strawberry Fields as prepsychedelic, existential beatnik fish-fry soundtrack? Eight Miles High as medieval preschool sing-along?


And whats this got to do with Spyro Gyra?

It has NOTHING to do with Spyro Gyra. There could be few more dismal wastes of breath at this nexus in the grim chronicle of our species than to address the fact, the existence, the ghastly, cheezy quarter-century CAREER of these sonic dumb-downers, these life-stabbing, soul-puking fusionoid peckerheads.

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