It was nice here today, one of those rare mid-winter days where it seems like spring isn't that far off. I headed to the beach and, with the exception of the water temperature and the lack of tourists, it could have been a summer day. Barefoot, shorts, the works. On the way back from the beach I was thinking of surf music, second guessing myself because it's only the end of January. Then a small flock of parrots flew over, squawking their feathered asses off. The parrots don't usually show up in these parts until late spring. Yikes. No wonder the polar bears are having such a tough go at it. Uh-oh. Get Greta on the line, stat.
So, if it feels like summer and the parrots are telling me the real thing is coming sooner than usual, what the hell, here's some surf. Oddball and vintage, all from the vaults of Downey Records, home of the Rumblers. What's with the song titles though? Do you think "Migraine" is gonna sell? "Theme of Etiquette"? And how about that glaring band name. "Hey man, you gonna checkout Pastel Six tonight?"
So, if it feels like summer and the parrots are telling me the real thing is coming sooner than usual, what the hell, here's some surf. Oddball and vintage, all from the vaults of Downey Records, home of the Rumblers. What's with the song titles though? Do you think "Migraine" is gonna sell? "Theme of Etiquette"? And how about that glaring band name. "Hey man, you gonna checkout Pastel Six tonight?"
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