I Like Puddles Pity Party’s Early Stuff. You Probably Haven’t Heard Of Them
I listen to the strangest assortment of music.
No, I’m not trying to tell you I’m a hipster, bustin’ a moby at the table saw while only listening to totally deck obscure artisanal free-range amazeballs beats. That would be so midtown. I just find myself interested in odd things.
I’ve never heard the original of this song. It’s current. The only radio I own is in the truck, so I can only hear current music while I’m driving. There’s a problem. I only leave my house once or twice a month, and whenever I do, I drive in stone cold blissful silence.
So it’s very simple. If you want me to listen to your song, you’d better hustle on over to the Intertunnel, and be sure to bring a seven-foot-tall pagliacco, totes toting a battered Emmett Kelly valise that says Puddles Pity Party on it, and everybody better really be playing things that sound like instruments instead of washing machines halfway through the cycle with all the towels migrated to one side, and you better have that bouffon belt out that song like it’s nobody’s business. And the girls better sway.
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