Dear Maggot Brain,
Thank you for blowing my mind. Thank you for making me cry and then dance and then laugh and then feel better about life. You are perfect. I'm sorry I listen to your first track about 4 times in a row before moving on to the rest of you--I still love all of you.

Dear Tago Mago,
Thank you for making insanity so beautiful. When I listened to you in the Dublin airport, shaking with insomnia and confusion and fear, you made me feel so destined to be completely lost in life. When I listened to you on the metro in Amsterdam, without money for fare or a ticket and with the harassed Dutch woman checking for tickets, the screaming on "Mushroomhead" came out of oblivion and smacked my ass into spatial and temporal transendence. You are an essential self-preservative measure.

Dear Pornography,
When I listen to you I feel like I am hearing the thoughts of the maniacal in some hysterical murder scene in a pitch black cave on some distant planet. Fine escapism, my friend. When I listened to you in that phone booth at 4 AM when I was hiding from the rain, I immersed myself in your desperation and felt better. Then I thought, "At least I'm not as miserable as Robert Smith," and I was elated. You are also essential sonic therapy.

Dear Goat and Bang,
You make me feel invincible.

Dear All Things Must Pass,
You are my best friend. I can just think about your title and feel immediate relief. Thanks for always being there for me. We've had some good times, and many more hard ones. Actually, you are much more a wise older brother than a best friend.

Dear Third/Sister Lover,
I just want to give you a hug. You can make it.

Dear Blonde on Blonde,
Where the fuck are you? I gave you plenty of attention. I expressed gratitude after every listen. Why did you leave? Is it because I invariably skipped your intro track? Well then why in the hell would you put a brass section on it that sounds like it is bleeding to death?

Dear Village Green,
I only discovered you a year ago--weird. I played you almost every day for that semester that made me re-evaluate my life's principles. I don't really think of you as a catalyst toward revelation, but really just an source of inexhaustible encouragement, a reminder that you can be as desperate and crazy as Ray Davies and still be twee as fuck.

Dear Funhouse and The Stooges,
The world needs more heroes like you.

Dear Here, My Dear,
Thanks for last night.

Dear Albert Ayler Live at Greenwich Village,
Thank you for being uncompromising. It took me a few tries, but I get it now.

Enough for today.

dear conference of the birds,
you are the dude! your personnel are gods. without you my life would not be complete. mr. rivers & mr. braxton make me happy to be alive. mr holland, you are my favorite bass player. in my opinion, you are better than ascension & science fiction! i love you.

dear third,

even though you are the middle child, you kick the most ass!
ant man bee told me he masturbates to you incessantly
which is funny, because thought he only did that while listening to devandra banhart. he must like you alot

dear lonelyville,

You are the soundtrack to doing stuff in the world. And you sport a myght version of "Green-eyed Lady." And if song number 13 would cooperate, as-well-as a couple songs after, I would call you perfect.

Thanks Hugh and band

--Douglee, age 38(shit Im gettin' tourettes next year!)

Dear Mr. Bungle Disco Volante,

Remember that time my girlfriend and i fucked while you were playing?

Yeah, that was kinda weird.

Regards,
DrAwk

Nervous Circuits,

Let's not fuck around, buddy. I paid 20 bucks for you, and you're in mono.

You're just. not. delivering.

Your music is okay, and you know, you look pretty slammin'.

But your bastard offspring, Electrosleep International, sounds cooler than you. The people that made it are my friends, too.

The people that made you put out Mars Volta records.

I guess we're still cool,

-Wiggins

Dear Metal Box,
In all honesty, I didn't appreciate you at first. You seemed difficult. Stand offish. You felt too much like work. Then I went away for a few weeks. When I came back, I nearly didn't recognize you. You were beautiful. Welcoming. Like a long lost friend. I looked back on our beginning and struggled to explain it. I guess I was just too young and too unworldly. Thank you for opening my eyes and ears.

p.s. Your bastard child on the b-side of "The Flowers of Romance" single was your high water mark.

mrdfnle wrote:dear lonelyville,

You are the soundtrack to doing stuff in the world. And you sport a myght version of "Green-eyed Lady." And if song number 13 would cooperate, as-well-as a couple songs after, I would call you perfect.

Thanks Hugh and band

I think you mean Lovelyville.

This record is real good!

Angus Jung wrote:

mrdfnle wrote:dear lovelyville,

You are the soundtrack to doing stuff in the world. And you sport a myght version of "Green-eyed Lady." And if song number 13 would cooperate, as-well-as a couple songs after, I would call you perfect.

Thanks Hugh and band

I think you mean Lovelyville.

This record is real good!

O yeah. My Cd skips. Hence the humor.

I figured yud know this guys.

Dear Killing Joke - Brighter than a thousand suns,

Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you?

Love,
Interloper