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Bishop Allen

Dear Bishop Allen,

I'm sorry I doubted you. See, it was rough seeing you go from the rough-sewn pop of Charm School to rising blog-stars. And Clementines? Remember when we were all waiting around for you guys to release a new album, and we thought maybe it was going to be on this label or that label? And then things changed. You rescued a piano off the street. You started a crazy project -- 12 EPs in 12 months? What, are you nuts? And the songs started changing. What was once "the Bishop Allen formula" was no longer. There was experimentation, grandiose experimentation. Before, you were the little band that could, with ramshackle melodies and a refreshing naivete. And, as usually happens, that band grew into something else.

I'll admit, the prospect of four new songs a month from a band I admired, a band I wanted to see succeed had me both joyful and worried. Could you actually do it? Would this be the straw that broke the camel's back? Or would the songs actually suck simply because you were forced to produce, produce, produce. I must say that around April or May I simply got tired of ordering another new EP every month, watching my mailbox for that EP, and listening to those four new songs, wondering exactly where Bishop Allen, my little-unsigned-band-that-could was going? After a while, I just got overexposed and had to take a vacation from Bishop Allen. I felt guilty, but it was necessary, and I knew you guys would probably be waiting when I returned.

Well, it's March 2007 now. You guys did it. It took blood, sweat, and tears, but you put out 12 EPs. OK, so, one of them was a recording of a live show, but managing to release all that new material in a single year? That's a pretty big accomplishment. And the Bishop Allen that I missed? Turns out it was there all along. But now, older, wiser, more polished, more confident, but still writing those same amazingly catchy pop hooks, just in different forms.

So: good job. Congratulations. And see you soon.

Love,
Queen of the Front Row

Bishop Allen - Charm School
Bishop Allen - Central Booking
Bishop Allen - History of Excuses
Bishop Allen - Calendar

Visit Bishop Allen's official site.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.10.07 at 5:09 PM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

My Brightest Diamond

It seems unlikely that a former opera and classical music student would choose to focus upon avant rock, inspired by Antony and the Johnsons and the NYC live music scene, much less end up as one of Sufjan Stevens' Illinoisemakers. But Shara Worden of My Brightest Diamond wails with an operatic fervor. Her voice, at once sparse and tense and mysterious, is complimented by barely touched guitars and ominous chimes and strings, warning of stormy seas and haunted houses and terrible earthquakes. The easiest reference points are Kate Bush and Portishead, especially when the songs rely on a sad, gently plodding keyboard or Worden is compared to Beth Gibbons, particularly in their vocal mannerisms.

Bring Me The Workhouse is mesmerizing. It's an album made for lonely night time drives, with gorgeous songs for sorrowful amnesiacs and weeping broken-hearted lovers. Poignant and heartbreaking, the songs are arranged by a deft hand, and create a perfect rollercoaster of orchestral emotion. We, the listeners, are in the palm of Worden's hand, carried from hushed silences to explosive climaxes.

And as such, My Brightest Diamond produce such dramatic, perfectly poised rock epics. The lush music works best when it's a well-oiled vehicle for Worden's expressive, impressive voice -- strings and guitars bolstering her forward and upwards, towards the heavens. Whether she whispers, fluttery, or shrieks like a beautiful banshee, hers is a voice that won't easily be forgotten. When Worden sings, the world seems to stop, turn, and listen.

My Brightest Diamond - Golden Star
My Brightest Diamond - We Were Sparkling

Visit My Brightest Diamond's official site. Buy Bring Me the Workhorse from Amazon or iTunes.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.10.07 at 9:54 AM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

Great Lake Swimmers

An abandoned silo in lovely rural Ontario, a lonely voice in the wilderness, a serene acoustic guitar: these things and more are the tools of Great Lake Swimmers' Tony Dekker. The delicate, understated music of Great Lake Swimmers evokes slowly flickering motion pictures and your grandmother's old-fashioned lace. Quietly beautiful, the tiny, hushed folk masterpieces of Great Lake Swimmers have slowly been winning over converts with lush instrumentation and graceful country-pop majesty. And although the band is Canadian in heritage, they could very well be mistaken for successors to Gram Parsons, Red House Painters, or Neil Young with their special brand of restrained, reverb-heavy Americana that sticks in your head, and makes impressions on your heart.

Great Lake Swimmers are at their best when evocative of hidden landscapes and vast empty skies. The echo-filled songs cover the familiar territory of nostalgia, romance, and spirituality, making beguiling jigsaw puzzles of melodies and harmonies. On the band's newest, guests provide an even lusher sound of pedal steel, strings, female vocals, and on the plucky "Your Rocky Spine," an at-once familiar banjo picking.

At once both haunting and soothing, Great Lake Swimmers create intimate folk sound that compares most closely to Iron and Wine, but with a more lively spirit and a soul of steel. While Sam Beam often sounds like he's given up, Tony Dekker is still pondering the moment. Dekker's voice is sweet, creamy, and fills the room, expansive and embracing. His does not float above the songs, but rather, acts as an anchor for the gently strummed guitar, singing lap steel, barely visible banjo, and sound of crickets; it's music meant to be enjoyed in quiet meditation on a still summer night, rocking on a swing under an antique porch light.

Great Lake Swimmers - Moving Pictures, Silent Films
Great Lake Swimmers - Bodies and Minds
Great Lake Swimmers - Your Rocky Spine

Visit Great Lake Swimmers' official site. Buy Ongiara from iTunes.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.09.07 at 10:34 PM | Comments (3), TrackBack (0)

The Wombats

Bad ideas, ex-girlfriends getting married, strippers named Patricia, self-denial, drinking too much, cutting remarks on the discotheque floor, and not giving a shit. These are what the Wombats are all about, encapsulated in three minute pop songs with clever lyrics, swinging guitars, "do do do"s, and adorable vocal harmonies. And big, fat, 5 mile-wide hooks, let's not forget about those. This band from Liverpool, UK knows what they're good at, and make sure they stay within the bounds of pop-single ideals much like other notable UK indie bands like the Kaiser Chiefs.

It all culminates in sublimely naughty ode to a date gone wrong, "Backfire at the Disco," sort of an Art Brut meets Arctic Monkeys kind of night, with rollicking guitars, bouncy bass, big toms, an insaney catchy chorus, and a dance-happy drumbeat. "At the disco! At the disco!" they shout, as it they couldn't believe what really happened. And lead singer Matthew Murphy can't be all that disappointed in what slipped out of his mouth with a melody this cheerful, right? "I made a move / But it was well out of / Context," he hurriedly explains before launching back into the glorious chorus of the song. Cutesy but infectious "ooh ooh ooh"s only undercut the severity of what he said, which he never really admits aloud to us, but we can imagine, right?

So, go ahead, play it again. That's what pop singles are for. The Wombats are simply too good to be your guilty pleasure.

The Wombats - Backfire at the Disco
The Wombats - My First Wedding

Visit The Wombats' official site.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.09.07 at 9:03 AM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

Pela

Forget all of this "All American Rock Band" nonsense that Pela spouts somewhere on a one-sheet -- that's probably the phrase that bothered me the most when I first heard of this Brooklyn-based band. And it's probably the reason why I avoided them for so long. Well, no longer. At the urging of "the blogs" over and over, I've finally sat down and given Pela a good listen and I must say, I've been missing out this whole time.

Pela are the magical combination of chiming guitars, atmospheric rock, ringing vocals, the occasional guitar solor, and a healthy love of U2 ("Lost To The Lonesome" sounds particularly Bono-ish). There's a decided British bent in the way that they approach structuring their layered songs, with driving bass and drums, and the desperate, emotional inflections of lead singer Billy McCarthy, who aims to sound larger than life.

McCarthy's voice has the rawness of a punk rock singer going for the deep baritone of Matt Berninger of The National, but with more hope than catharsis. And like the National, Pela mines the territory of dark, brooding songs mixing beautifully with moody backgrounds, particularly in the instrumental passages of "Trouble With River Cities," but add their own special crunch and soaring riffs. Nearly every Pela song is an anthem, destined for a giant arena. Their very smart Anytown Graffiti looks to be permanently stuck in my iPod and it won't go away soon.

Pela - Trouble With River Cities
Pela - Lost To The Lonesome

Visit Pela's official site. Buy Anytown Graffiti from Amazon.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.08.07 at 6:32 PM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

Fionn Regan

How exactly does Fionn Regan manage to sound so charming but soothing, so substantial but light at the same time? I couldn't even begin to tell you exactly how; I find it hard to analyze his music because from the first gentle strums of a song, I'm entranced by witty lyrics, a sense of special intimacy, hanging on every moment.

As another young man with a hypnotic voice and acoustic guitar, he's been compared to all of the usual suspects (Dylan, Drake, et cetera), sure, but he's got such a unique voice that it would be a shame to dismiss Regan as yet-another-folkie. He stands far above the pack; Regan radiates deliberateness, maturity, and originality, which is even more impressive given his light touch in arranging the songs. You get the feeling that the airiness of his songs comes from restraint, and a confident in knowing when to be sparse and when to bring in the effects, the lush instrumentation.

And every once in a while, there's a turn of phrase, a little saying, a single sentence that's so good and clever and true to life, you're jealous that you didn't think of it first. But that's why he's the folksinger, not you. The combination of his soft but strong voice, intricate guitar picking, and innate sense of dramatics is purely stunning.

Fionn Regan - Put A Penny In The Slot
Fionn Regan - Be Good Or Be Gone

Visit Fionn Regan's official site. Buy The End of History from Amazon.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.08.07 at 7:30 AM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

Matt and Kim

Bounce, bounce, bounce. Grin. Bash. Crash. Yelp. Jump, jump, yeah, yeah. Grin some more. Yelp. Bash, bash, smash, BASH. Smash, crash. Clap! Clap! Clackity-clack. Shout. Shout again. Now dance. And dance some more. Bounce. Grin even harder. Bash. Bounce.

That's pretty much all you need to know about Matt and Kim's sparse, lo-fi energetic pop music. Matt plays the keyboards and sings, or, rather warbles and shouts and yelps and sings in an off-kilter manner that's often off-key. Kim plays the drums in a sloppy, almost rudimentary, prone to big smashes and crashes sort of way. Kim loves Matt and Matt loves Kim. The arrangements are bare and uncomplicated, as Matt's bouncy synths drive the melodies and Kim bashes the drums behind him. The songs are not so much succinct as bursting over with energy, with unavoidable acceleration. And the kids? They love it and follow Matt and Kim around with big adoring puppy eyes.

Matt and Kim are in love but they also want to have a raucous, crazy party and they want you involved. They make infectious, cutesy pop music together that calls out for lots of fist-pumping and crowd shoutalongs; the Mates of State comparisons are just too easy to make, but Matt and Kim are more raw, more focused. The point here is not really on subtlety or finesse or perfect musicianship but the pure joy of making a racket and hollering. (There's lots of hollering.) The lesson, then, is: it only takes a drum kit, a keyboard, and two insanely happy musicians to move the entire room.

Matt and Kim - Yea Yeah
Matt and Kim - Someday

Visit Matt & Kim's official site. Buy their self-titled debut from Amazon.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.07.07 at 5:39 PM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

The Manhattan Love Suicides

I'm not sure what to think about a band that claims "[they] have only played five gigs, none of which lasted longer than ten minutes" -- laziness, immaturity, or a strong devotion to the notion of short, punchy, catchy songs? A look at the Manhattan Love Suicides' debut album shows a good number of songs barely hitting the three minute mark, a good indication that the band is aiming for those elusive "three minute perfect pop songs." The Suicide's are well on their way to hitting that mark, with their twee-dream pop hybrid. "Suzy Jones" has a woolly atmospheric rock, with an infectious hook and rhythm. And their lovely cover of Beat Happening's "Indian Summer" is addictive and sweet.

There's a good amount of distortion and feedback in their sound (Jesus and Mary Chain meets Heavenly or the Flatmates is the easiest reference point) but there's also a strong melodic pop core that ensures their catchy hooks get stuck in your head. Singer Caroline McChrystal has the soft of soft, breathy, soothing voice that contrasts nicely against the crunchy guitars. Her effervescent voice slithers around the layers of fuzz, as the guitars are loud and aggressive without being overpowering. The resulting product is a toe-tappingly good, fuzzed-out guitar rock, with shoegazer influences, but a cheerful twee pop bounce.

The Manhattan Love Suicides - Suzy Jones
The Manhattan Love Suicides - Indian Summer

Visit The Manhattan Love Suicides' Myspace page. Buy their self-titled debut from Amazon or iTunes.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.07.07 at 8:47 AM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

Page France

Page France's folk-pop doesn't seem all that inspiring on the surface. But a closer inspection reveals its careful nuance and clever nooks and crannies. The music lovingly constructed using simple, sparse components. Page France's songs are spacious and airy, with a restrained use of strummy acoustic guitar, soft organs, plinky glockenspiel, gentle tambourine, and the pretty, child-like backing vocals of keyboardist Whitney McGraw. Meanwhile Michael Nau's striking voice lends the band's music an air of innocence, with a bit of plaintiveness. The arrangements aren't complicated, but they invariably bolster Nau's memorable melodies. These catchy pop gems display a deliberate hand in instrumentation but also a sincerity and wonder that's hard to fake.

Nau has gained a reputation for prolificacy, a tendency to include references to Christianity in his work, and a limited palette of sounds. But Nau converts his apparent weaknesses into strengths: His hummably straightforward songs stick in the brain, and his wonderment in the simplest of things is infectious.

Page France - Chariot
Page France - Million Man Money Hand
Page France - My Antarctica (My Beloved Home)

Visit Page France's official site. Buy Hello, Dear Wind from Amazon or iTunes.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.06.07 at 5:33 PM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

The Mountain Goats

OK, so the Mountain Goats. It's all about this one guy, on an acoustic guitar, and some harrowing tales to tell, but John Darnielle is unlike any sensitive male singer-songwriter you've ever heard. In the flesh, he seems a little deranged but still witty and funny, if not a little rambling. Darnielle's voice has a peculiar intimate cadence, a certain nasal "ordinary guy"-ness and he speaks excitedly in stops and starts, fumbling over words and phrases. And who are all of these people around him, who are clued into the various pieces of Mountain Goats ephemera, whether it be obscure cassette-only b-sides or a grand theory of the mysterious trials of the Alpha couple, or savant-like recall of the infamous "Going To" series of songs? These fans, hanging on every word, are waiting for release (exhibit A: "No Children" singalong videos on Youtube). They are listening, hushed and respectful, because they are worshiping in the church of the Mountain Goats.

The Mountain Goats grew from humble beginnings, stark songs sung on an acoustic guitar into a shitty boombox, recorded in lo-fi glory, sometimes in one take. Today, Darnielle is backed by a steady, stalwart orchestra, supported by sidekick Peter Peter Hughes' solid bass work, and the addition of Erik Friedlander's versatile cellos, emotional and sincere playing which pierces even the most jaded listener's heart (exhibit B: Get Lonely). Whatever shields you have built up around yourself are useless, silly mortal, the Mountain Goats seem to say.

But among the newly-found lushness, the words are always in the forefront, words that are eloquent, memorable, and penetrating. Darnielle has got a way with words that pierces the heart of any disbeliever. Like on We Shall All Be Healed, an album that paints a portrait of tweakers with surprising humanity and gentleness. It's the kind of storytelling that catches you by the throat, and refuses to let go, white knuckles and all. The Mountain Goats' songs are all about the ups, the downs, angry mobs, glasses shattering against the wall, the hospital waiting rooms, the orange jumpsuits, burning houses, and, yes, the light at the end of the tunnel.

But Darnielle isn't taking the easy route. These are masterworks that honestly and accurately depicting just how complicated life can be, whether they're about drug addiction, physical abuse, a cast of motley characters in West Texas, or a single person fighting the demons of loneliness. Any other songwriter would be busy pulling at our heartstrings, but rather you can almost see Darnielle gently caressing scars from long ago, wincing as the skin is still sensitive to the touch (exhibit C: The Sunset Tree). Sometimes Darnielle sings in an intense whisper, as if he can't wait to tell you what happens next; actually, to describe it as "intense" almost downplays the emotional potency. To me, when this happens, it seems sacrilegious to even breathe too loudly. But with any other Mountain Goats moment, you know release is coming, just not in what form, and you keep watching Darnielle for his next, unpredictable, affecting movement. Just as it should be.

The Mountain Goats - Woke Up New
The Mountain Goats - Cubs in Five
The Mountain Goats - Shadow Song
The Mountain Goats - No Children
The Mountain Goats - Love Love Love
The Mountain Goats - Up the Wolves

Visit the Mountain Goats official site. Buy Get Lonely from Amazon or iTunes.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.06.07 at 10:02 AM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

Imperial Teen

It's been how many years since Imperial Teen's On? Five years? That live album at Maxwell's from 2005 doesn't really count. Oh, Imperial Teen, I'm so glad you're back. The band claims to be working on a follow up to On, slated for release this fall. At the very least, you appear to be back for SXSW, and you could probably kick the asses of half the burgeoning indie rock bands playing the festival. The world's missed your infectious brand of keyboard-injected pop with killer riffs and catchy hooks, boy-girl harmonies splattered all over the place, thrilling eroticness and all.

A seductive song like "Ivanka" is like a breath of fresh air in today's crowded ipod-o-sphere; it shines and shimmies down the runway, guitars dueling with the dancey momentum of drums, clashing with the repeated refrain of "you wanna, you wanna, you wanna" as the song builds to an intoxicating conclusion. It's no question that the band comes at listeners full-throttle; Imperial Teen works best when the songs come at you like a 1-2 punch, crammed with crunchy guitar, snaking keyboards, and plenty of sing-shouty whooping.

It's understated, fun pop brilliance: an amalgation of lighthearted bubblegum, energetic punk, sassy New Wave, and driving garage pop, with a heavy dose of originality. Even their throwaway "do do"s and hand-claps seem like a premonition of bands to come. And if you've only heard radio-hit "Yoo-Hoo," you're missing out on the best parts.

Imperial Teen - Ivanka
Imperial Teen - Yoo-Hoo

Visit Imperial Teen's official site, anemic as it is. Buy On from Amazon or iTunes.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.06.07 at 12:44 AM | Comments (3), TrackBack (0)

Beach House

Funny that a band named Beach House specializes in music that's a perfect soundtrack to blazing autumn bonfires and quiet winter snowscapes. More appropriately, they must be speaking of spooky beach houses closed for the season, in oceanside towns, left to collect dust bunnies.

From the opening strains of "Saltwater," it's clear that Beach House is a unique creature. A duo from Baltimore, their self-titled debut album is a fuzzy blanket of sound, bringing forth comparisons to Mazzy Star and Slowdive. Beach House manage to sound so organic and unforced, with a reverb-heavy, lush sound created by Alex Scally's droney organs and moody guitars, topped by Victoria Legrand's gorgeous, lilting voice. Imperfect drum beats rise and fall like heartbeats as the languid Legrand intones, her voice stripped bare and placed on center stage.

"Saltwater" is a sleepy lullabye of rich sonic depth that's not weary or tiresome, like "Auburn and Ivory" showcases Legrand's sorrowful moan alongside a haunting harpsichord, in a memorable contrapuntal composition. Most of Beach House's songs provide three minutes of an autumn daydream and then float away on a bed of skittering drumbeats and wispy haze. The duo claims that no drum machines were used in the making of the album; instead, they relied on found sounds, xylophones, and clanking objects. Intimate and melancholy, Beach House's warm, baroque electronic pop has a a satisfying grittiness, as chimes drift in and out. Beach House slyly entice listeners into their mesmerizing daydreams, entrapping them in a world of deep browns and delicate lace, filled with dusty furniture and faded sepia photographs.

Beach House - Saltwater
Beach House - Auburn and Ivory

Visit Beach House's official site. Buy their self-titled debut from Amazon or iTunes.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.06.07 at 12:12 AM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

Sloan

Fifteen years: that's how long Sloan's been around, give or take. In the past many, many years, over the course of eight albums (plus a multi-disc live show and a greatest hits compilation), they've morphed from a shoegazy outfit to a pop machine. Halifax's most popular export has had an impressive run that's included various label changes, a break-up, a re-union, and, most recently a comeback album of sorts in their most recent effort, the 30-song strong Never Hear the End of It. They're bona fide Top 40 stars in their home country of Canada and cult heroes in the United States and it's not hard to see why; Accessible and catchy, the songs feature the standard four-piece big rock sound, with the requisite guitar solos, swinging horns, bouncy handclaps, and backing la-la-las. It's a sound perfect for crowd singalongs and swooning female fans (as proven by their live box set, 4 Nights at the Palais Royale).

Sloan's influences are worn proudly on their sleeves and penetrate nearly everything they do, from Pentland's rock-star poses to Ferguson's achingly sweet ballads to Murphy's smug audience come-ons and antics. It's an irresistible, easygoing combination as the band proves time and time again that they've got songwriting chops to spare, a dedication to rock'n'roll standards, and the stamina to keep pressing on with the signature Sloan sound. All four members (guitarists Patrick Pentland and Jay Ferguson, bassist Chris Murphy and drummer Andrew Scott) take on singing and songwriting duties for the group; live, they all switch instruments and positions accordingly. This split of responsibilities results in Sloan's sometimes schizophrenic sound, yet the band nearly always lands squarely in the arena of catchy pop-rock, whether they're inspired by the Big Star, Beatles, Cheap Trick, or AC/DC.

Sloan may never be on the cutting edge of rock but the band still has quite a bit energy left in them after all these years. They may never inspire "best new music" accolades, but they're still here, they're ready to go, and they make some damn fine rock'n'roll. Long live Sloan!

Sloan - If It Feels Good Do It
Sloan - Money City Maniacs
Sloan - She Says What She Means
Sloan - The Good in Everyone
Sloan - Who Taught You To Live Like That

Visit Sloan's official site. Buy Never Hear the End of It from Amazon or iTunes.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.06.07 at 12:09 AM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)

Pink Nasty

"Pink Nasty" -- what kind of name is that? A brash, young hardcore punk trio composed entirely of fifteen year olds? Some horrible, graphic female rapping novelty act destined to end up in jail? No, not really, it's just the charming and witty Sara Beck, formerly of Wichita, Kansas, now of Austin, Texas. Her name plays upon her brother's alias, Black Nasty; her brother being, um, an actual rapper. But I digress.

The way I see it in my imaginary movie, Pink Nasty is your jaded best friend that finally quits her job at the diner after her manager grabs her disgustingly nice ass one too many times, even though she's so broke, but it doesn't matter, because she never pays for her own drinks. And, of course, she fucking shares her cigarettes with you, what are you kidding me she says, as you as stand there awkwardly, shivering from the cold, because your shirt is too low-cut and your sweater is too thin. You're listening to her, telling mean jokes about her ex-boyfriends and their numerous shortcomings. And even when you do find out that she plays guitar and sings, but not that kind of guitar, god, I hate those people, you still smile and nod and hope that it's not too cringeworthy that you'll have to suppress your disdain. But then it turns out to be really good, and you're jealous. And maybe she steals the guy you had your eye on, God, that bitch, but he turned out to be a jackass anyway, and that "Pink Nasty" business is starting to make sense, but, what are you doing after work, and would you believe that they found bodies in trunks of cut-down redwood trees in California? And yes, she likes whiskey, too.

Ms. Beck is the perfect combination of alt-country with mid-90s college rock: mid-tempo songs with catchy melodies, filled with crunchy guitar hooks, and a pretty but powerful voice. One minute, she's a rocking tigress, ready to rip you apart to shreds; the next moment, she's a wounded country siren wondering what's happened to her. Her deeply satisfying brand of pop-rock smacks of brutal honesty and smart aleck comebacks; chances are, Pink Nasty actually does have that celebrated heart of gold, too. Beck shines especially singing a "power duet" celebrating co-dependency with Will Oldham, especially one as true-to-life as "Don't Ever Change," as the two argue, spar, kiss, make up, give up on each other, and get back together.

Pink Nasty - Mold the Gold
Pink Nasty - Don't Ever Change

Pink Nasty's official site. Buy Mold the Gold from Amazon.

Posted by Queen of the Front Row on 03.05.07 at 9:38 AM | Comments (0), TrackBack (0)