Thanks for your patience while Sing For Me builds itself from the ashes of Hunter’s old sites.
Borrowing from what sadly has become a worn out cliché and acknowledgment (accompanied by a sheepish grin) of questionable mental health, “I’ve got a song in my head I can’t get rid of”. More precisely, your humble correspondent has an entire oeuvre stuck there. It needles and digs. It demands without apology to be noticed and appreciated. The works of Yellowcard call. They insist this writer step away from the microwave and outside of himself, if for just a moment.
Today is not entirely unique, of course. This writer wakes most mornings with some song or artist serenading him in the shower or joining him while he sips (more like ‘chugs’) a.m. java. What makes this appear to be not your standard Tuesday during which keys are leisurely tapped, cloyingly amusing pics are Facebooked (is ‘facebooked’ a word yet?), and breakfast is devoured in haste is that the phenomenon leaves your correspondent filled with questions and wonder.
“Why today?”, “Why Yellowcard (who, btw, released a new album last week)?” and, in the question which inspired his sense of wonder: “what’s up with the friggin’ songs getting in there in the first place?”.
This last informs and illuminates the others like some melodic version of Edison’s Big, Best thing.
Yellowcard have turned on a lightbulb and shined light on a question that haunts.