Look in my eyes, what do you see? The cult of personality.
Look in my eyes, what do you see? The cult of personality.
Let’s ride a tire down the river Euphrates.
Who’s house? Run’s house.
Hello, my friend, are you visible today? You know I never knew that it could be so strange.
Don’t believe them when they tell me there ain’t no cure – the rich stay healthy, the sick stay poor. I believe in love.
I’m expressing with my full capabilities, and now I’m living in correctional facilities.
Baby, please don’t go down to New Orleans, you know I love you so, baby please don’t go.
Just turn that dial, make your music worthwhile.
Can’t forget the flashing, can’t forget the smashing, the sending and the bending, the atmosphere re-entry.
Walking like a man, hitting like a hammer, she’s a juvenile scam. Never was a quitter, tasty like a raindrop, she’s got the look.
Said woman take it slow, and it’ll work itself out fine. All we need is just a little patience.
Warning is come upon your heels – feel your dreams slip away.
My posse come quick, because my posse got velocity.
Well, it’s all right – we’re going to the end of the line.
Straight up, this album is catchy on a cellular level.
An album with a specific, intimate, and special energy to it.
The genius behind The Beach Boys finds his powers fully intact on his first solo album.
Don’t suffer the fools who refuse to get enough-er of this construct of musical performances.
It might not be for ma nor pa, but this Fishbone dish is sizzling.
Nothing’s shocking, indeed, yet consistently surprising.
Meshes traditional Irish sounds with a propulsive punk sensibility. In short, a bottle of smoke.
Whether this is country or rock or blues or whatever, it’ll make you say, “Hell yeah.”
Celtic and new age-y, at turns gentle and pleasant or moving and beautiful.