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Jeremy Porter: “It’s Important to Me to Keep Moving”

Posted on by patrickdonders

With Sell Their Souls, Jeremy Porter and The Tucos have made what may be their hardest-rocking record yet — but that doesn’t mean they’ve abandoned the hooks, twang and power-pop instincts that have always been part of Porter’s songwriting.

After close to four decades of making music, Porter still seems far more interested in what comes next than in settling comfortably into a particular sound. We caught up with him to talk about the heavier edge of Sell Their Souls, taking unexpected turns in the studio, the songs that proved hardest to crack, and why continuing to move forward remains essential.

Sell Their Souls has a particularly tough and swaggering sound to it. There’s a great mix of power pop, punk, rock and alt-country, but to my ears the balance feels a little heavier and rougher than on some of your earlier work. Was that something you consciously wanted to explore, or did the songs simply take you there?

Hey there – thanks for having me Patrick and thanks for those kind words! Yea this is probably the most “ROCK” album I’ve ever done. I’ve been into metal and hard rock since I was 9 years old, and my love for that stuff has only grown. We listened to a lot of metal and hard rock at my house during the pandemic, and I suppose it was bound to seep in a little deeper than it had before, but it wasn’t calculated.

I write constantly and it’s all over the place, as you sort of allude to, but the focus is on quality of song over genre of song. The feel or vibe – heaviness, twanginess, popiness, mellowness, whatever – that all comes into play when we’re deciding which songs to record, and especially when sequencing the record. That sequencing part is really important to me – that the album flows well from song-to-song and overall. This is when I start to think about things like “ok after these 2 heavy songs we need to take it down for the next track…” or “those two songs sound too similar to be next to each other…” stuff like that. So I guess, to answer your question, it wasn’t calculated, but it was something that’s always in play throughout the project.

Change the Rules really struck me as a tour de force. It moves through different tempos and moods, and the arrangement keeps opening up as the song progresses. How did that song develop, and did you know from the beginning that it was going to become something bigger and more elaborate?

Thanks! Yea that’s one of those harder-rocking songs that starts to get a little proggy, for us at least, and kind of sets this album apart from our previous work. It came together with that intro riff, that I think is sorta Drive-By Truckers-ish, then the hard-rock chunks in the verse, so none of that is a big departure for us, but I’m always looking to do something different, something we’ve never tried, and switching to 6/8 time for that middle section and especially hiring a real string section and composer to do that orchestration is WAY out of our wheelhouse. The idea for the strings came in the demoing stage, might have been Gabe that brought it up. So we did a primitive string arrangement with synthesizers on the demo, which was fun and helped us decide… is this cheezy? Does it rule? Do we care? Just one of those things to make the song stick out, get out of our lane and take new chances in the studio, and see what happens! I’m so glad you dig it!

The Real McCoy is my favorite song on the album. It seems to bring together so much of what I love about The Tucos, while your vocal feels particularly pure and direct. I also love the way the music seems to be all over the place while the relationship in the lyrics seems to be going in much the same direction. What does that song mean to you, and how did it come together?

It’s so fun for me to put out a record and hear what peoples’ favorite songs are. You’re the first one to even mention that song I think! I brought it in and we struggled with the arrangement and the feel of everything except the verse, which fell in very naturally. We had two big issues – it was too long, and the chorus wasn’t enough of a hook. Well, we cut a chorus out and replaced it with the bridge, so it was at a better length. Then at one point before we demoed it we were at The Loft, one of our favorite studios here in Michigan, working on something else and talking to Tim Patalan, the main guy there who’s been a big part of everything we’ve done, and I asked him about the chorus, told him we were struggling with it, and he just knew right off – “you gotta go full-STONES on it!” so we did exactly that, because Tim knows his shit, and it made the whole thing just work. It’s still the longest song on the record, and I get heart palpitations when songs approach 4 minutes, but I like how it turned out. Hope Jagger gets his ears on it!

You’ve been making records and playing in bands for more than three decades, and you’ve moved through punk, alt-country, power pop, solo work and The Tucos without ever seeming particularly interested in staying in one lane. At this point in your career, do you still feel like you’re searching for something, or have you reached a place where you’re simply comfortable being Jeremy Porter and letting the music take whatever shape it wants?

Closer to 4 decades bud! But yeah, that’s a loaded question, isn’t it? I’m always searching for something, always looking at what’s next, how I’m (or we’re) gonna make it different, better, fun, exciting… but I’m also always just me, so it’s gonna have some hooks and it’s gonna have some lyrics that hopefully mean something to or provoke a response from somebody, and it’s gonna be guitar heavy and we’re hopefully gonna get out of the song and off the stage before we wear out our welcome. I don’t think the lane shifts are that drastic, they’re all on the same highway anyhow, though it’s a fairly wide swath of heavy/distorted amps and spacious/acoustic guitars, and all points between, I guess.

Id’ guess that most singer/songwriters and touring musicians aren’t particularly comfortable with their own self-image, in their own skin, or whatever. I’m not much different. Putting myself out there with lyrics, performances, writings, even social media posts – yea, I can’t say I’m comfortable with any of it, except probably the performance part, which, when going well, is where I am at the most peace. Or maybe “peace” isn’t the right word, because rock and roll isn’t supposed to be peaceful, but let’s say content. It’s a difficult line to tread these days, trying to get your stuff out there while presenting yourself the way you want. I’m so far from an expert at it.

You’ve said that Sell Their Souls is your favorite thing you’ve ever done — while also admitting that it’s probably too fresh to know where it will ultimately sit in your catalog. That made me wonder: after all these years of writing, recording and touring, what does a record have to do now to make you feel that you’ve moved forward? What are you hearing in Sell Their Souls that tells you you’re not simply repeating yourself?

Well, context is probably important here, because I’m not sure when or where I said that, but I think it was in the context of…the newest thing is SUPPOSED to be your favorite thing, and if it isn’t then you did something wrong, yea? But yes – these things have to have some time behind them before I and talk about them objectively. But I am proud of it, and I do think it’s good.

I think a lot of what we talked about above speaks to why this record isn’t just a repeat of previous albums, just like I don’t think Dynamite Alley was or Candy Coated Cannonball before that. I remember when we were making Don’t Worry…It’s Not Contagious, our bassist at the time Patty said he felt it was basically Above the Sweet Tea Line part 2 – not a big enough departure, not enough new ground. I don’t necessarily feel that way, but I did take it to heart and put more effort into working harder on doing new and different things from that point on. It started with songs like “Put You On Hold” and “Dead Ringer” from Candy Coated and remains with songs like “Real McCoy” and “Rosencrantz” and “Change the Rules” off the new one.

It’s important to me to keep moving. Existing in this rock and roll world is more or less my life, and doing it for so long now is – in itself – some level of success for me, but without moving forward – new ideas, new directions… it would just turn into work. I could probably make more money and get bigger accolades playing in a tribute band or doing covers gigs, but I’d just as soon wash dishes or work at Taco Bell at this point.

“It Still Rings Completely True” — Rob Bonfiglio on The Over Under.

Posted on by patrickdonders


Rob Bonfiglio’s The Over Under has been out for a while now. I liked it immediately, but after listening to it for a few months, it has become one of those go-to records I return to when I need to recalibrate or reset. It’s the kind of album that reveals more of itself with time.

What makes it particularly striking is how personal it feels: Bonfiglio wrote, recorded and mixed the record largely on his own, following the songs that carried the most weight and trusting his instincts along the way. Months after its release, he remains remarkably close to the album and proud of how faithfully it captures what he wanted to say.

We spoke about the vulnerability of “Need You Know,” the sharper edge of “More Pure Than Gold,” the decision to make the record mostly by himself, and why connecting with listeners ultimately matters more than recognition.

How does The Over Under feel to you now that it has been out for a while and you’ve had some distance from making it?

I felt from the beginning that this record reached a lot deeper than my previous releases. I went into the recording process with maybe 20 or so tunes, and it became clear which ones carried the most gravity.

My recording and mixing process happened concurrently. I’d go on a hike or a drive and listen back to a day’s work to determine where to go next. It all added up to literally thousands of listens.

Even after completing the album, I can still listen through from beginning to end and feel a sense of cohesion. I can honestly say there are very few things I’d have done differently with this album. It still rings completely true to me. I’m really proud of the way it turned out.

“Need You Know” feels like the emotional heart of the album to me. It’s a beautiful, very vulnerable song. Do you remember where that song came from, and did you know while writing it that it could become such a special song on the record?

Thank you so much. “Vulnerable” is a great descriptive. My writing cycles happen in waves and usually bear five or six or more songs at a time. This came out of one of those batches. I don’t recall the initial inspiration beyond the riff that repeats throughout, which always had a Fleetwood Mac-ish vibe to me.

I do recall being satisfied with the simplicity of the form. The lyrics happened pretty quickly and seemed to really get to the point of how I was feeling.


“More Pure Than Gold” feels like the musical and lyrical opposite of “Need You Know” — it’s sharp, angry and quite political. What was your state of mind when you wrote that song? Was it something that came more from the heart, or more from the head?

Without expressly saying so, I think the sentiment of this song is pretty obvious. I like to think all good songs come from the heart, with the head to guide them along. Much of the lyrical content of this song came out in a free flow, and much still stands true, unfortunately.

You made The Over Under largely on your own, even though you have friends and family around you who are, to put it mildly, pop royalty and could probably have helped you make the record. What made you want to do this one by yourself?

I’m a textbook introvert. I really considered doing this album with a larger ensemble of players, but one thing led to another and I just ended up doing it all myself. It was easier to get from point A to point B quickly, and things just sort of snowballed from there. All creative decisions started and ended in my head.

That said, I did have a little help from my daughter Lola on “Blame This” and a great pedal steel player named Xandy Chelmis on “Fade Away.”

I’ve read some really nice reactions and reviews of The Over Under, and I’m sure you have too. Recognition must be nice, especially after putting so much of yourself into a record. Or is there something else that matters more to you when you look at how the album has been received?

I’m incredibly grateful for the kind words and genuine reactions to this record. Yes, recognition is important for sure, but maybe less so for the ego nudge and more for the acknowledgement of being able to share something that resonates on a human level.

Jason Mazzotta: Poor Man’s Time Travel

Posted on by patrickdonders

Jason Mazzotta makes the kind of pop music that feels immediately familiar and subtly strange at the same time. Warm, melodic and carefully constructed, yet with something pleasantly weird — and occasionally slightly unsettling — lurking beneath the surface. On his new album Jason To Jason, his roots in the golden age of ’60s and ’70s pop are unmistakable, but those familiar sounds are bent into something distinctly his own.

Jason To Jason is far from an exercise in nostalgia. Mazzotta seems less interested in recreating the past than in seeing where it might lead him — into his own peculiar pop universe, where obscure songwriters become international hits, Shindig! magazine inspires a song, and The Monkees might still be looking for something trippy for Micky to sing in episode eleven.

We spoke with Mazzotta about making Jason To Jason, the accidental origin of its title, his love of classic pop production, Number Four in Norway, and making music for the future with its roots firmly planted in the past.

Jason To Jason feels like a very personal record. How did the album come about, and when did you realize you had the beginnings of an album rather than just a collection of songs?

At the start, I was living in California, and the first session happened while visiting family in Connecticut. It was just a few songs with Brian Marchese on drums at Scott Amore’s InnerSpace Soundlabs, and then overdubs at my place. I ended up moving back east, and Brian and I popped back over to Scott’s more frequently. Once there were five or six numbers taking shape, it felt like we were making an album. Some of the songs certainly have personal references, but I also have Brill Building tendencies and can get into a mindset where The Monkees are looking for a trippy song for Micky to sing in episode eleven.

There’s obviously something playful about the title Jason To Jason. What’s behind it? Was the title there from the beginning, or did it come to you once the album had taken shape?

The title entered the picture during mixing. My nephew, George, who was about two and a half at the time, is responsible. He’s fascinated by vinyl records and is a Bowie fan. One day he was riffing on Station To Station and made a rhyme that stuck. Up until then, there were a few contenders that didn’t feel right. Jason Mazzotta is Number Four in Norway was one. There was another idea involving a “sandwich,” but I can’t remember now.

The album has a very distinctive ’60s/’70s pop character — the melodies, harmonies, arrangements and production all feel like they come from that world. Is that sound something that comes naturally to you, or do you consciously go looking for it when you make a record?

I try to live in the present and like a lot of contemporary music, but I certainly love ’60s and ’70s record production. And there’s shorthand when recording with others when you can reference The Beatles, The Stones, The Temptations, The Kinks, Nilsson, ABBA, Elton, etc. Might be more subconscious that I lean this way? Not sure. But making music for the future that has roots in the past is a kind of poor man’s time travel.

Number Four in Norway immediately caught my attention. Is the story behind the song a real story, and is the songwriter at the centre of it actually you? Yes or no — and if it isn’t, why was this a story you wanted to tell anyway?

Yes, I’m the obscure songwriter at the center of the story. They say writing songs about songs is lazy, but how often do songs reference themselves as becoming international hits? However, I don’t advise listeners to track the logic.

I first became aware of Jason To Jason through the review in Shindig! magazine, and then I heard May Song, where you sing about how much you like the magazine. What is it about Shindig! that resonates with you, and did you ever imagine you’d end up writing a song about loving a music magazine?

I’m a longtime Shindig! reader, but I remember seeing an issue for the first time at a train station. I couldn’t believe my luck that a magazine aligned so much with my taste and musical curiosity — it was almost like a mirage, seeing the cover on the rack. I just love their sensibility, the great features about acts that I love, and their commitment to spotlighting new or new-to-me music. I don’t know how unusual it is to write about a music magazine. Have you heard Robert Wyatt’s “Soup Song”? Now that’s subject matter to strive for.



Too Much Is the Point: The Cowboys on Captain Easy’s Downfall

Posted on by patrickdonders



There’s a glorious sense of excess running through Captain Easy’s Downfall, the new album by The Cowboys. Across 19 songs, the band brings together the extravagance of glam, the sharp melodic instincts of power pop and the restless experimentation of adventurous indie pop. It’s playful, unpredictable and occasionally chaotic, but beneath all that excess lies an impressive attention to melody, atmosphere and detail.

We spoke with The Cowboys’ Keith Harman about the band’s return, the creative process behind Captain Easy’s Downfall, embracing “too much,” and what might come next.

The Cowboys and Captain Easy’s Downfall

The Cowboys are a new band to me, so I’d love to start by going back a little. You’ve been doing this since 2013 — what has brought the band from where you started to where you are now with Captain Easy’s Downfall? And do you feel that you’re reaching a new audience with this record? I’m discovering The Cowboys through this album, and I’m wondering if you’re noticing that the record is opening the door to new listeners for you as well.

The chief element that has carried the band all these years is a combination of our friendship and my inability to stop writing songs. We never achieved any great success in our journey, so there is no demand or multi-album contract to fulfill. I wrote a large number of songs in a year or two and just asked the band if they felt it was time to get back together. They said yes, so we started working on a new album.

I wouldn’t say this new record has really opened any new doors or garnered many new listeners. I haven’t noticed that. But I think we are all very proud of this record and the work we were able to accomplish.

The creative process

When you started working on Captain Easy’s Downfall, was the excess itself part of the goal — 19 songs, all those layers, the unexpected turns and disruptions — or did it simply become a creative flow that kept giving you new ideas and you just kept following it? Or was it closer to the culmination of the sound the band has developed over the years?

It was definitely my goal to have an album of these more layered, technicolor songs. I didn’t expect the album to be 19 songs, and I didn’t anticipate Mark’s (guitarist, producer) long-gestating production being a part of the workflow. He kept adding and tinkering to great effect; he obsessed over the production.

As for the writing of the album, I was in a very good creative headspace at that time. I was tapping into a good flow and kept adding songs to the recording schedule. It was a nice experience.

Was there ever a moment when you thought, “Okay, this is too much,” or was “too much” actually the point?

There was definitely a point of “this is too much,” but that happens on almost every album. It was the point. There are moments on this record that can put me in a giggle fit. Just the music and arrangements, not even the lyrics.

When I listen to the album, I hear this kind of unique creative chaos — all these ideas, unexpected turns and disruptions — but at the same time, I hear an incredible amount of care underneath it. The sound, the atmosphere, the melodies and especially the lyrics all feel very deliberate. For me, that combination is actually what makes the album so exciting and ultimately such a great record. Was that something you were conscious of while making it — finding that balance between unique creative chaos and care? Or does the term “unique creative chaos” not resonate with you at all?

Unique creative chaos definitely resonates with me. It was always my goal to get there, but even on some of the wackier songs on this record (“Donzell’s Crystal Ball” or “Michelle Fleischmann,” for example), I followed my muse in regard to the writing and arrangement and never looked back.

Looking ahead

And finally, what does the rest of the year look like for The Cowboys? Are you hoping to take Captain Easy’s Downfall on the road, or are there already new ideas and projects taking shape?

We did a short tour of the American Midwest and East Coast in the summer of 2026 in support of Captain Easy’s Downfall, and it was a good time. I would like to do more touring next year, but it’s hard as the band is so spread out across different cities. I keep threatening a European tour, but it’s proven very difficult to make happen.

As for new recordings, it doesn’t seem likely that anything will happen anytime soon. I’ve got an album written that’s not very “Cowboys”-appropriate, and I’m trying to figure out what to do with it. The wish from the band seems to be not to recreate the creative approach of Captain Easy’s Downfall for whatever happens next. So it’s a mystery what happens next, even for me.

Radio Days: Still Chasing the Perfect Chorus

Posted on by patrickdonders


For more than two decades, Milan’s Radio Days have remained devoted to the timeless pleasures of Power Pop: sharp melodies, ringing guitars, big harmonies and choruses that refuse to leave your head. With their fifth album, Off The Record, arriving on September 4, the band sound as energized as ever, connecting their love of ’60s melody and late-’70s Power Pop with the renewed enthusiasm surrounding the genre today.

We caught up with Radio Days singer, guitarist and songwriter Dario Persi to talk about the making of Off The Record, how he knows when a song is really working, the band’s upcoming touring plans and why, after more than twenty years, the search for the perfect Power Pop song continues.

You’ve been making Power Pop for more than two decades now, and the sound you love is rooted very much in the late ’70s and early ’80s. What is it about that particular sound that has kept you inspired for so many years? Has your idea of what makes great Power Pop changed over time?

It’s true, time flies when you’re having fun! Haha!

Joking aside, we’ve always loved this music, and even though there have been some stylistic differences from record to record, we’ve kept playing it because it’s the music we love and the music we would want to listen to ourselves.

I think that, fundamentally, Power Pop is all about the songs. Without great songs, you can’t really go anywhere. So, for us, it’s about having a great, catchy but intelligent melody, some beautiful ’60s-style harmonies, and the energy and attitude of the late ’70s. That combination still feels perfect to us today.

How did Off The Record actually begin? At what point do you realize that you have enough new material to start thinking, “Okay, this is going to be a new Radio Days album”?

It was actually quite a planned and structured process. In mid-2023, we finished the tour for Rave On!, our previous album, and decided to take a break from touring to focus on writing a new record.

It took us about a year and a half, between writing the songs — which I mainly do at home with an acoustic guitar — and arranging them, which we do all together in our rehearsal room.

We wrote around 20 new songs and recorded pre-production demos of all of them. Then we selected 15 to officially record in the studio.

From those 15, we eventually chose the 10 that would make it onto Off The Record. The other five will be B-sides for some of the singles or will be released in the future!

Off The Record is coming out soon. When is the release date, and what are your plans for the rest of the year? Are there concerts, touring or other Radio Days activities we can look forward to?

Yes, we’re almost there! Our final single, “Another Lonely Night,” will be released on August 21st, and then Off The Record will be out on September 4th.

We already have a few shows booked in Italy, and at the end of October and beginning of November we’ll be doing a 10-date tour in Spain. We’ll be announcing those dates in the next few days.

After that, we’re working on a tour of Japan for April/May 2027 — exactly ten years after our first time in the Land of the Rising Sun!

“Flying High” sounds like the ultimate Power Pop song to me — immediate, melodic and incredibly catchy. When you write a song, how do you know when you’ve got something really special? Is there a moment when you realize, “This one is better than the rest”?

Thanks, I’m really glad you like it! It was actually the first song out of the 20 or so that we wrote for Off The Record.

Usually, I can tell pretty quickly if something is working when I come up with a good chorus or a good verse. I record it right away and send it to the others, and if they don’t shoot it down and everyone likes it, then I know we’ve got something!

It’s a strange process. Sometimes I can’t come up with anything for months, and other times I manage to write two or three good songs in a single week. It really depends on my mental state, my mood, my motivation… It’s not easy to figure out!

There seems to be a renewed interest in catchy, melodic guitar Pop at the moment, with bands like The Lemon Twigs, Mod Lang and others attracting a lot of attention. Do you feel that this new enthusiasm for Power Pop and ’70s-inspired Pop has reached Italy as well? And do you feel part of a new wave, or do you see Radio Days as continuing something you’ve been doing all along?

It’s great to see these younger bands getting into the genre. The Lemon Twigs have changed quite a bit compared to their early days and have become more Power Pop and ’60s-influenced, and I absolutely loved that change. Mod Lang have also made a fantastic record.

There has never really been a big scene for this kind of music in Italy, but I’ve definitely noticed more people becoming interested in it over the last few years.

I’d say we’re probably too old to be part of this new wave, haha! But we’re also really happy to see a bit more interest in a genre that we’ve been carrying on for so many years. I think it’s good for everyone.

Kiwi Jr., Without Overthinking It

Posted on by patrickdonders

Four years after Chopper, Kiwi Jr. return with Blowin’ Up, an album that finds the Toronto band moving forward without losing the restless charm that made them so appealing in the first place. Their familiar mix of jangly guitars, scrappy garage pop and sharp-edged rock is still there, but this time the songs feel more open, confident and lived-in.

That change didn’t happen overnight. After years of moving quickly from one record to the next, Kiwi Jr. allowed themselves time to stop, write, discard ideas and eventually rediscover what excited them about making music together. The result is a record shaped by ten years as a band, but also by the willingness to try something different without overthinking it.

Ahead of the August 14 release of Blowin’ Up, we spoke with singer and guitarist Jeremy Gaudet about that four-year gap, getting the band tight before heading to Detroit to record, the evolution of his songwriting, putting Kiwi Jr. themselves on an album cover for the first time, and why sometimes the best way forward is simply to trust what works.

When I saw Kiwi Jr. on the Chopper tour at EKKO in Utrecht, and now looking at the artwork and presentation around Blowin’ Up, I get the feeling that the band is entering a new chapter. Even the choice to feature the band itself on the cover feels like a different statement. Is that something you recognize yourselves, and does it reflect a change in how you see Kiwi Jr. as a band?

It’s been 4 years since our last album and ya some things have changed. With every new album we try to put a slightly different flavor forward. Cooler Returns had a particular garage rock fidelity, Chopper introduced the moog, Blowin’ Up I think provides a freshness and open-air quality that the band hasn’t explored that much in the past. For this album cover, I wanted the band to be photographed on the front cover because all of the great bands have at least one album where they are on the cover. It seemed liked the old school way to do it – photograph the artist for the cover and don’t think about it too much. We tried to approach the recording of the album the same way – get the band tight, hire a good engineer, and don’t over think it.

Listening to Blowin’ Up, it feels like Kiwi Jr. has taken the foundation you built with your previous albums and started exploring it with more confidence and a greater sense of adventure. I hear a change in sound and storytelling, but maybe that is just my impression. Do you recognize that, and if so, where do you think that change comes from?

We are older now and I think that comes across in certain ways. We took a few years between albums and I think we were wary of certain traps we maybe would have fallen into had we tried to make an album immediately after Chopper. We’ve been a band for ten years and we know what works and what doesn’t work. We know each other’s strengths and weaknesses and this allows us to steer the ship with greater confidence. There are some new things we’ve tried to do on this album, with time signatures, and bringing in an outside mixing engineer etc. But overall the process is sort of familiar to us now.

Four years is a long time. During that period, not only can a band change, but your view of the world, yourself, and your place in it can change as well. Has that period influenced the way you write songs? Are there different subjects or ideas that play a role on Blowin’ Up?

I try not to look too closely at my songwriting process and subjects with a lot of scrutiny because creativity is a delicate thing for me. There are times I will go months without writing anything, and other times it comes pouring out. I’m afraid if I start to analyze it, I’ll become too aware of it and fumble it. Like when you’re trying to fall asleep, you can’t think about how you are trying to fall asleep. It will never happen like that. And of course I have to follow what gets me excited and what I’m interested in, otherwise it becomes work.

Every album has its own story behind it. Can you take us back to the beginning of Blowin’ Up? When did you realize that you were creating a new Kiwi Jr. album, and what was the process like from the first ideas to the finished record?

We had been moving very quickly from Football Money through Chopper and I think we just needed to sit down and breath for a bit. Even though Chopper was finished in 2022, I didn’t start to write the songs that ended up on this album until 2024. There were two years of failed attempts and distractions. The first two songs were Blowin Up and World Like Polly. Once we had those two, we essentially were starting work on a new album. We rehearsed a lot and spent a long time getting the arrangements and songs together before going into the studio. Lots of phone recordings, for example. We went to Detroit record the album in March 2025. So the songwriting and arranging process took a complete year pretty much.

When the recordings are finished, Blowin’ Up is still a very personal project of the band. By the time it is released, other people already have expectations about it. Is that a thrilling transition, or does it simply feel like the natural end of the process?

It feels good to release something we’re proud of. As I said, it’s been two years since we started to write the songs. I get a bit of a thrill releasing it now because we’ve been sitting on the songs for so long. I hope people take notice and respond to it. We’re excited to play the songs live too.

With Blowin’ Up being released on August 14, what does the rest of the year look like for Kiwi Jr.?

European/UK tour in November. Some North American dates sprinkled all around. One day at a time!

The Goods: Finding Hope in Goodbye Summertime

Posted on by patrickdonders

The Goods return this September with Goodbye Summertime, the follow-up to Don’t Spoil The Fun, one of my favorite albums of last year. Released by Dandy Boy Records, the new record builds on everything that made its predecessor so memorable: instantly gratifying guitar pop packed with irresistible melodies, but with an emotional depth that reveals itself the closer you listen. Much of that comes from Rob Good’s lyrics, which are remarkably honest, direct, and unafraid to be vulnerable.

Ahead of the album’s September release, I spoke with Rob Good about the emotions behind Goodbye Summertime, writing some of its most personal songs, and what lies ahead for The Goods.

Goodbye Summertime is such a melancholy album title to me. Was that the state of mind you were in when you wrote these songs, or is it more the atmosphere you wanted to convey?

It’s a melancholy album, really. It does have a lot to do with the state of mind I was in when writing it. A lot of the album is about change, and although change can be good it can also be painful, and you can mourn the loss of what you had to leave behind to get to a better place. But saying “goodbye” to something also means saying “hello” to something new, so it may be tinged with some sadness but there’s optimism in there too. To me, the title Goodbye Summertime captures those bittersweet feelings.

“Wing” is a song I keep coming back to, especially because of the lyrics and the line about asking someone to take you under their wing. It feels very vulnerable. Was that your intention when you wrote it?

“Wing” is definitely me at a vulnerable moment. The lyrics are very direct and honest. Sometimes in my writing I’m just trying to express a feeling that’s difficult to put into words, but in this case I was being more autobiographical. A lot of the songs on this record were written really quickly, in heightened emotional states, and then recorded right away. This is one of those songs. I don’t know about the intention because “Wing” just kind of spilled out – I think I needed to write it at that moment.

On parts of “Ginger Rose” you sing noticeably higher than usual. As a listener, that has a huge emotional impact on me—not just because it sounds beautiful. Were you deliberately trying to add an extra emotional dimension, or did the melody simply lead you there and require you to sing in that higher register?

When I’m writing, I just try to follow the melody where it wants to go. I don’t think I necessarily set out to write a song where I sang in falsetto, but as I was feeling my way through the chords it just seemed to take me there. I can remember around the time of writing “Ginger Rose” I was obsessed with several songs that featured a falsetto vocal – “Here There and Everywhere” is an obvious touchstone, but also “Tell Me Have You Seen Her” by the Chi-Lites and “How Deep Is Your Love” by the Bee Gees – so that influence must have crept in. I do love a falsetto vocal, and it was fun to explore that part of my voice.

“Waiting” feels quite different from the rest of the album. It’s just you and your guitar, I assume. Because it’s so brief, it feels more like a short story than a full novel—to use a slightly clumsy comparison. What made it such an important piece of the album as a whole?

I like that comparison! “Waiting” was just a song-fragment that was rattling around in my head, and that seemed to be all that it wanted to be. I think it’s okay for songs to be short. Sometimes you just have a snippet of a melody and it somehow feels complete – like if it were any longer it would somehow lose something. Tony Molina is obviously the master of this. I also love Pink Flag by Wire and of course “Your Majesty” at the end of Abbey Road. Not that I was explicitly thinking about any of that when I wrote “Waiting,” but I’ve just always found that short songs can be really impactful and beautiful. As far as its importance on the record, over the course of an album I feel like the little moments are just as important as the big swings, and “Waiting” is just one of those little moments.

When is Goodbye Summertime being released, and what do the next few months look like for The Goods?

Goodbye Summertime comes out on September 16, and our record release show is on September 11 at Little Hill in El Cerrito, CA. Then, starting September 24 we’re heading out for a European tour with Joel Cusumano. We’re currently looking at visiting Germany, Spain, France, Belgium, and the UK, and maybe a couple other places too.

Distant Collaborations, Close Connections: Exploring Trademark Issues

Posted on by patrickdonders

Trademark Issues is a long-distance band composed of Gary Hornseth and Mitch Armbruster. Despite their successful collaboration, they’ve only spoken directly twice. However, they’ve been creating great music together for quite some time. Their fifth album, Change This Face, kicks off with the aptly titled and irresistibly catchy track “Welcome To Album Five,” which is sure to be the funniest opening song you’ll hear this week. The album features eleven clever pop songs that draw comparisons to The Posies and evoke the pleasantly rattling style of The Front Bottoms. As they continue to evolve, their music only gets better. It’s time for a more comprehensive introduction.

You can find ‘Looking the Other Way’ showcased on the Best Power Pop of 2024 Spotify Playlist.

Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?

We’re a long-distance band in every way, living in Minnesota and North Carolina, 1,200 miles apart. We met at an arts event in Boston in 2019 and started collaborating through messaging and file sharing. This led to our first album in 2020, and we’ve since released one album a year, always on the anniversary of the first one — the last Friday in July. We’ve only spoken directly twice — once when we met and once as guests on a podcast.

“Change This Face” came together much like our other albums. Most of our songs start as unfinished fragments that one of us has lying around. Some are recent, while others are many years old. We send these fragments to each other, and the receiver turns the idea into a full song. Sometimes it resembles the original intention, and sometimes it takes off in an entirely new direction. Then we work together on the final steps — trading backing vocals, guitar accents, edits, or mixing suggestions. Sometimes one of us gets stuck trying to come up with a solo or a bass track and just throws it over to the other guy to try.

It’s an unusual way of collaborating, but it always results in something neither of us would have come up with on our own. It’s a 1+1=3 thing.

The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?

We suppose every artist at every level has misgivings about sharing their work. We sure do. Our song “Absolute Green” on our new LP is about that — the hesitation, self-doubt, and vulnerability that comes with hitting “send” to ship .wav files and artwork off to the distributor.

But five albums in, we’re so grateful for how supportive and constructive people are out there. The benefits of inviting opinions far outweigh the occasional sting.

Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?

For us, every new release feels a little like a ticket to an unknown play. We can never predict what will happen with it, but every time something cool and unexpected seems to pop up.

Our songs have ended up in independent films, we’ve had a song profiled on a talk show on the third largest radio network in Spain, we hear our songs backing social media videos internationally, we sell a few CDs and shirts to people we’ve never met, we get a few nice reviews, and we make new connections and friends around the world. And we get asked by cool people like you to do fun things like this!

Success in terms of big sales and large streaming figures will probably never be our thing, and that’s OK. We like being our version of a band and all the colorful stuff that comes with it. And we like to think that we’re growing and refining our sound with every album.

Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?

We both write a lot for our day jobs and enjoy the challenge of using words in this different way. We’ve always loved lyricists who delight in wordplay and wit — like Neil Hannon, Paul Heaton, Andy Partridge, Kirsty MacColl, Stephin Merritt, both of the They Might Be Giants guys, the Lucksmiths guys, and many others.

If we write a line that makes someone stop in their tracks for a second, or one that elicits a wry smile, that’s a win in our book. It’s genuinely one of the most rewarding things when someone tells us a lyric has connected with them in some way. It reminds us to tell the same to others.

Among the compliments you’ve received, is there one that remains etched in your memory? If so, what made it particularly unforgettable?

Our favorite compliment is when someone we know is impressed by one of our songs without knowing it’s us and says with surprise, “Wait. This is you?” Family, in particular, can be tough to impress, so tricking them into a compliment can be the best way. :>)

And we love being compared to bands we love. We got a Posies comparison the other day, which will keep us going for the next month.

Studio moments often hold a touch of magic. Could you recount an instance that stands out as the most enchanting during your creative process?

We remind each other to embrace our constraints. You can’t really get more DIY than we are. We record separately in our homes (many of our vocals are recorded in parked cars; we like the sound). Our gear is simple and inexpensive. We’re neither virtuoso players nor especially adept producers. We only communicate through messaging and shared files. So, it helps to be open to welcoming the opportunities that constraints can create.

We love it when a mistake leads to something cool. For example, when we’ve accidentally nudged a harmony track during mixing and it threw it a few milliseconds off, it opened up a new sound for the better. Or when the gain on a vocal track was accidentally way too high and we liked the sound, so we kept it.

We care a lot about our final results and getting them to be the best they can be, but over the course of five albums, we’ve grown pretty comfortable with who we are.

Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?

We’re glad and grateful to be a small particle in the big music universe. The wonderful reviewer Janglepophub recently described our records as “gloriously catchy and perfectly obtuse.” If that’s even a little bit true, and if some people enjoy what we do along the way, it’s about the best contribution we could hope to make.

The Junior League’s Sonic Evolution: Behind the Tracks of Their Latest Releases

Posted on by patrickdonders

The Junior League has just dropped a new EP, Nattering Nabobs, and their latest full-length album, Our Broadcast Day, is set for release on October 4. Joe Adragna has evolved his sound to be “more Gram, less The Knack,” offering a delightful treat for fans of twangy power pop and roots pop.

You can find ‘Skinny Tie’ showcased on the Best Power Pop of 2024 Spotify Playlist.

You released an EP and will release an entire album in October; did the inspiration just keep coming?

I had 15 or 16 songs going. I didn’t want to make the full-length album too long. In the past, I feel like my records have often been two or three songs too long. Sometimes, those extra songs aren’t quite as strong as the others and should have been left off. In this case, I wanted to keep the full length as concise as possible—although it’s still 10 songs!

How did you decide which song went on the album and which went on the EP?

I felt like “Skinny Tie” and “Nattering Nabobs” fit together musically but didn’t blend as well with the other songs on the full-length album, which is called Our Broadcast Day. I had a song I wrote late in the sessions for this called “Kinda Lost” that I liked and that would have fit on Our Broadcast Day. It was a toss-up between that one and “Two Ways To Go” as to what would be on the EP. In the end, I felt like “Two Ways To Go” fit the record better all around and served as a good opening track.

Your sound evolved, didn’t it? More Gram, less The Knack?

Hahaha, yeah—there are still tambourines and jangle elements, but this record is a bit more laid-back than parts of Bridge and Tunnel, or certainly Adventureland. It has more in common with Fall Back, maybe—but I think this is a much better record. Hopefully, I’m getting a little better at this!

“Skinny Tie” will immediately catch the eye of every power pop lover. What’s the story?

Well, I think it’s a funny song. I wrote it with every power pop cliché I could think of! Hahaha. It was inspired by some very “passionate” arguments I had seen or heard online about what is (or isn’t) power pop. I can see how those terms might make people feel boxed in if they let it.

Both releases are so solid. You knew you had a truckload of good songs when you started recording?
Thank you for saying that. I felt strong enough about the songs to release both the EP and the full-length. To be honest, though, I never know what I think of anything until it’s all over. I tried to be more selective this time—as I mentioned earlier, I’ve had one or two too many songs on some of my records. I might like a song, but it might not be the best song, if that makes sense. I think these are just right, he said hopefully!

Rediscovering the Past: The Typicals’ Journey from Forgotten Tapes to Timeless Tracks

Posted on by patrickdonders

A Talk with Jeb Barry on the Release of The Typicals: The 1980s-90s Power Pop Band’s Final Recording, Released 32 Years After It Was Recorded, Lost, and Then Discovered.

Could you share the journey of bringing this record to life? How did all the pieces come together to create the final product?

The Typicals formed around 1986 as a four-piece band centered around Jeb Barry and Michael O’Neill’s songwriting. They wrote all their songs separately and then brought them to the band to arrange. “I never told anyone what to play when we learned a new song I wrote; we let them create their own parts. Mike did the same,” Barry explains.

Due to musicians moving on to other careers, by 1990, we were a three-piece with a new drummer. Our songs had gotten harder and less powerpop. We decided to record live at CBGBs on DAT tape for a future live album release of all new songs. Unfortunately, the sound engineer only recorded one channel, so it was a waste, although it was fun to play there (we had previously focused on the Boston area for shows).

Since I had a fairly expensive DAT tape, we booked an hour with a local studio where we recorded our first two self-releases (Popscreams and The Poverty Sessions). We recorded it live in one shot, except for one song we did four times but kept the first take.

We ended it all right in the middle of talking to DGC (David Geffen Company), who loved our stuff. But the band was entering their 30s, and the music business at the time was not a great place to be. People thought I was crazy to walk away. LOL

How did DGC get interested?

Before this, we had met and talked to a few major record companies and sent out dozens of copies of our album, but nothing came of it. In 1991, I saw that DGC was a new subsidiary that had signed a band I knew through college radio, Nirvana, for a million-dollar advance. I decided to stop sending out albums and tapes and created a small promo pack of articles and reviews of the band.

Cindy Peters from Gary Gersh’s A&R office at DGC called my house later. She told me to send her a tape of three songs and instructed me to put a special code on the bottom right of the envelope, or else it would be thrown away. I did that, and she called a week or so later, saying they loved it but thought we sounded like a band they had recently released, Nirvana. I had recently gotten the Nirvana CD and didn’t see the comparison, but she pointed out similarities like soft verses and hard choruses. She requested more songs, so I sent some new and some old, including rockers and acoustic ones.

She called again, saying the new songs reminded her of The Posies and requested more. This happened a few more times before I decided I didn’t want to travel around the country in a crappy van playing low-level shows for little money and walked away. I did not return the next few phone calls from Cindy.

Was there a particular moment or experience that struck you, signaling that you were onto something special with this project?

Probably the first time we played as a three-piece. I (Jeb) had to play bass on Mike’s song (except for “This Lonely One,” where I played bass on my own song) and vice versa. It made the songs simpler yet more intense compared to our older material.

The decision to seek opinions on your new songs is intriguing. When did you realize that external perspectives could contribute to your creative process?

I think that happens from the first time you play, especially performing original material. You seek input from others outside the band to gauge the impact of the material.

Success can take on different meanings as time goes on. When envisioning success for this new record, what does that picture look like now?

Our only goal when we recorded this was to give others an idea of how we sounded live as a three-piece and how the band was changing. This had nothing to do with the emerging grunge sound that was starting to become popular. As a three-piece, we needed to play the new songs more aggressively—and louder too.

Within this collection, do you feel that the best song you’ve ever written finds its home? If not, what distinguishes this record’s essence from your prior work?

As a songwriter (currently writing and performing under the name Pawn Shop Saints and doing Americana with some acoustic powerpop added in, e.g., the song “Diane”), I’m still trying to write that perfect song. That’s why I keep writing. But my favorite of this bunch is probably “This Lonely One.” It just stood out to me when I wrote it and when we recorded it.

As an artist, the act of baring your emotions to the world is profound. Does this vulnerability come naturally to you, or is it a constant journey of finding comfort?

Since all my songs are not written with any relation to me, I don’t really bare any emotions. All my songs are like films, where I create plots, scenarios, and characters to play out the song’s theme. Some people think I am writing about myself, or sometimes I’m writing about them, but I don’t do that. It’s all fantasy or fiction.

Imagine you could collaborate with three co-writers of your choice for new songs. Who would you select, and what qualities or dynamics draw you to them?

I have only co-written once, with Jason Isbell via Twitter (that’s another story). But in 1992, it would have been Tommy Keene, Marshall Crenshaw, U2, Elvis Costello, or Springsteen.

Today, it would still be Elvis, Springsteen, Isbell, and Steve Earle. I’d even include Taylor Swift since she writes very differently from me, and I love challenges.

Among the gigs you’ve performed, which one holds an indelible place in your memory and why does it stand out?

CBGB’s was cool, but probably our first show at The Rat in Boston or the frat party we played for hundreds of drunk college kids in the pouring rain. They had a big mud puddle they were jumping in right in front of the stage. It was cold and miserable, but fun.

Defining a song’s completion can be elusive. How do you determine when a composition has reached its final, ready-to-record form?

I guess it’s different for all songwriters, but like most, I just know when something isn’t working and needs to be changed. If it’s a song I think is good, I’ll work on it until it hits that comfort zone. Recording is a different beast. I may have a sound in my head I’m striving for in the studio, but sometimes it just doesn’t work. I’ve scrapped and rerecorded several songs in the studio. Luckily now, I can do that in my own home studio.

Striking a balance between experimental artistry and commercial appeal is a challenge. How do you navigate this dynamic within your music?

Since I don’t have any goals to be commercial and never have, I just do what I like. In 1992, that’s what we did. We didn’t try to sound like anyone, jump on the grunge train, or try to be hip or popular. We just had fun. It’s the same today.

Lyrics often carry profound meaning. Are there particular lines you hope listeners will always remember from your songs? If so, what’s the significance?

Every song could have a line that has meaning to somebody. I’m not sure any of them are profound, but listeners might catch a line or two that they feel speaks directly to them.

Can you recall the last instance when you felt the immediate certainty of having penned a hit song?

I feel I’ve written a lot of catchy songs that few people have heard. As for a hit, I’m not sure. I still think “This Lonely One” is a hit powerpop song. Since I don’t write in one genre and mix it up a lot, there could be hit country, pop, rock, Americana songs in my catalog. I’ve written thousands of songs—most are crap, but there are a handful I could perform every night. Usually, the simpler ones are the best for me, like “She Comes Along,” an unreleased Typicals song, which was always a crowd favorite and the first song of mine another band covered.

With the resurgence of cassettes, imagine curating your inaugural mixtape. Which five songs would be must-adds and why?

For The Typicals, they would be:

  1. “She Comes Along”
  2. “This Lonely One” (Mike’s guitar work/hook really makes the song)
  3. “The Cold Shoulder” (another unreleased Typicals song, slower and groovier)
  4. “I Could Be The One” (Mike’s song from the Popscreams album)
  5. “The 4th Of July” (from The Poverty Sessions cassette)

I’d pick these all for the same reason: they are catchy. Mike, I’m sure, would pick different ones.

Performing music before an audience holds a unique allure. What aspects of this experience contribute to the excitement and enjoyment for you?

Just getting the interaction of the crowd, even if they are just listening. As a songwriter, it’s incredibly rewarding to have people actually listen to your songs, especially when doing a solo show. I did a solo show at the Bluebird in Nashville a few years ago, and there was no talking. Everyone just sat and actually listened.

While you can’t dictate how people interpret your music, are there specific elements you wish to highlight that set your songs apart?

For The Geffen Tapes, it was the hooks of the songs and the energy that we were trying to get across. Anything beyond that was a bonus. Today, it’s more about the lyrics and stories in the songs that I hope listeners pick up on.

If tasked with introducing your music through three songs, which ones would you choose and what story do they collectively convey to new listeners?

In 1992, it would have been “This Lonely One,” “Going Steady Still” (from Popscreams), and “This Lonely One” again since I think they are good, angst-tinged power rock songs.

In a hypothetical scenario where you could tour with two other bands, who would be your ideal companions and what synergies do you envision?

In 1992, it would have been Nirvana and U2 (my favorite band, and they’re Irish, so that’s a plus). I think The Typicals could have added a similar yet different sound to either band as a supporting group, which is actually what you want for a concert. Since we were all around the same age, that wouldn’t hurt either.

Studio moments often hold a touch of magic. Could you recount an instance that stands out as the most enchanting during your creative process?

For The Typicals, we never had much money, and there was no home recording then. If you wanted to record, you had to book time in a real studio, which wasn’t cheap. We recorded at Derek Studios in Dalton, Massachusetts, the only one around (another local, Arlo Guthrie, recorded there too). Since it was expensive, we learned to be well-rehearsed and record quickly. Our first album, Popscreams, was done live in the studio with vocal overdubs. We did it so fast that we had time to record four acoustic songs. The same was true for the second one, the EP The Poverty Sessions (named by Mike because the mixing took twice as long as the recording and was very costly). But the first time you listen to a final mix of your first recorded song and hold that album in your hands is unforgettable.

Where do you see yourself situated within the broader landscape of the music industry? How do you perceive your unique role and contribution?

We came close to something with DGC, but essentially we were a local original band that only did originals (all other local bands were cover bands) and put out our own music. One reason we did an album ourselves was because all the local ‘experts’ said it couldn’t be done and that you needed a record company. But since we had no management or money for promotions or tours, we were pretty restricted to being a Massachusetts band. But we showed a lot of bands that you could put out your own DIY records.

Envision recruiting three singers to provide harmony vocals on your next record. Who would you invite, and what qualities do they possess that resonate with you?

In 1992, it would have to be:

  1. Susanna Hoffs—she has a one-in-a-million voice.
  2. Robin Zander—he still has a powerful voice.
  3. Scott Miller of Game Theory—he has a unique and standout voice.

With the record completed and the music released, do you believe the pinnacle of enjoyment has been reached, or is this just the beginning of an exciting phase?

Since it’s been 32 years after the recording, we don’t expect much at all. It’s hard to stand out in today’s mass-produced music world, but maybe someone will hear it, like it, and promote it to the right person to reach a larger audience. But if not, that’s okay. I really don’t expect to hear us on SiriusXM anytime soon or hear from a label looking to press the songs. We do have some more unreleased Typicals songs, mostly Tascam 4-track recordings, that will see the light of day in the next few months, and maybe some live show songs. It all depends on the quality of the cassette tapes. If they are lo-fi, that’s fine since we love that type of sound.

Looking ahead to the next couple of months, what exciting plans or projects are on the horizon for you?

The homemade album with the songs “She Comes Along,” “Cold Shoulder,” and “Oh Janine” from 1988 should see a digital release by Christmas. Plus, I may record another Pawn Shop Saints album or do a compilation of all the powerpopish songs the Saints have recorded—all for fun!

Can you take us through the creative journey of bringing this album to life? What were the key milestones, challenges, and breakthroughs you experienced along the way?

As described above, the show at CBGBs was a letdown on the recording side, but the live tape came out pretty well. The original DAT tape disappeared, and all I had was a cassette tape I recently found while cleaning out old Typicals cassettes. It’s not the best sound compared to the original tape, but after 32 years, it’s not bad. I tried remastering it, but it actually didn’t need anything, which is a kudos to the recording engineer, Greg Steele. I finally decided to put it out on the internet for free, especially since I don’t have the funds to press a record or CD. But maybe someday.

How would you describe the evolution of your sound in this new album compared to your previous works? Were there intentional shifts in style or themes?

Harder and rougher—not as pretty. Maybe our influence from The Clash or Dinosaur Jr. (who lived less than an hour from us in Massachusetts) was coming through, but who knows? I think we all just wanted a more powerful style, especially as a three-piece.

With this fresh collection of songs, how do you envision connecting with both your existing fanbase and new listeners? Are there specific emotions or messages you hope they’ll resonate with?

Since we’re releasing them 32 years later, most, if not all, of our fanbase is gone. So, we are starting from scratch three decades later. But these songs haven’t been heard outside of DGC, so maybe someone will randomly hear them, like them, and the sound. Or they might get lost in the modern music era.

Back then, if I hadn’t walked away from the business, I’m not sure what would have happened. Perhaps nothing. We might have stayed a regional act making no money and working crappy jobs.

Albums often involve collaboration with various musicians and producers. Could you shed light on how these collaborations contributed to shaping the album’s identity?

Greg Steele (who passed in 2023) usually just produced and left the engineering to others, as was done with our prior albums. This time, for the live recording, he did the engineering so we could get the best sound with no overdubs or fixes. It was all recorded directly to a DAT tape. The results didn’t need to be mastered or changed in any way. There were no other musicians—just myself, Mike, and Sean playing the same set we did at CBGBs a couple of weeks earlier.

In the digital age, visual elements are intertwined with music. How did you approach the album’s visual aesthetics, such as album art and accompanying visuals? How do they complement the sonic experience you’ve crafted?

I have an art degree but still appreciate the DIY look of many of the 1980s-1990s self-releases. Most of our posters and flyers were hand-drawn, and even our first album cover was hand-drawn since we couldn’t afford text paste-ups. For the cover, we went for a simple, time-period-appropriate look: a photo of us outside CBGBs and nothing else. If I had to design an entire album jacket, I’d keep with that theme.