They're Playing Our Song

This damn song has been going through my head all week. It's the drop out breakdown drum piece that keeps running and running through my head. It's moved in, shoving the J-Pop out my ears like unwanted cats.

I called Vulcan Ninja at work.

"That damn Jack White song is going through my head," I said. "With his band Dead Weather? Treat Me Like Your Mother?"

"Fuck off," she said. "It's been going through my head, too."

So we went to find the video. Maybe that would get it out of heads, some twee video that purges the song from your soul, the way three days in a Icelandic brothel with a broken space heater and a skipping Bjork CD playing in a red velveted corner can cure you of a warm but dangerous itch once and for all. You experience it because you have to, then never speak of it again.

Then we see the video. And we fall in love with it even more.



Not as good as ghost frogs with bald corpses, but it speaks to us.