Sublime

aristocracy. Lumberjacks by day, conductors of the philharmonic

Glenn McDonald,

would play ten orgasmic records and then two cool-down records, then eight orgasmic records followed by three cool-down records, then seven orgasmic records and four cool-down records, and then repeat until the audience was satisfied. Bands do the same thing with their setlists. They pace themselves. And artists do the same thing when they build an

literal production and expression of freedom through the formal production of sound (freedom-sound)

“Blame It on the Boogie” is confusing, because it’s a cover of a song by Mick Jackson, an English singer whose real name was also Michael Jackson. He had a version of the song out at the same time, and British newspapers and radio stations took sides: some of them liked the Jackson version, while others liked the Jacksons’ version.

Playing on the floor at my Grandmother’s Compton, California, house. This is where I stayed when my parents were recording their Congress Alley album in 1972.

“The Chase,”