I don't want to work, I want to bang on the plastic drums all day

I am still in Big Important Project hell, trying to defeat the hydra blocking my way to Completion Nirvana, and I am armed with only a butter knife and a pack of damp matches. So, sadly, very little time and brain space for creative writing.

However, there has been much music, because it's nice to have a good 4/4 beat when you have to row the oars on Pharaoh's galley. The other day I did the monthly eMusic dance, trying to maximize the credits I have each month to keep up with what the kids are listening too. At the end of that dance, I always have a little left over for just a song or two, and I take those few remaining shekels and troll for old 80s songs I would love to own again.

I browsed around for a while before a random neuron said, "Let's see if they have this...."

Which they did.

One of the most underrated songs from one of the most underrated bands of the 80s. I played this cassette to death, especially in the car where I could crank it and yell out "BIRTH, SCHOOL, WORK, DEATH!" The guitars are just ferocious, and the whole album is a great bit of catchy six-string contempt, nihilism, and bile.

It occurred to me as I listened to this, for the first time in ages, that when I first heard this, I was still well in part two of this four-part saga, and I'm now about 40% of the way through part three. That's the bad part. The good part is I still want to shout those four words as much as I did when I was 17, and would also love to have this song available in plastic-drum mashing form.

Jerking will recommence next week. Have a good weekend.