great jangly raw guitar pop from Western Massachusetts that should’ve gone way further than it did

my wife talking to the DVD intro screen of Crash asking her if she’d like the R cut or the NC-17 cut: “I’m the sort of person who bought Crash to have permanently in my own home, what version do you think I want??”

only band I’ve ever seen where the guitar player climbed into the ceiling of the club, swung his knees over the rafters, hung himself upside down swaying from his legs, and didn’t miss a note the whole song

привет товарищ голубое небо 🫡

trying to drop off a market basket housewarming gift at the bird respecter’s new place like