Just another ordinary day.

The past month or so I've found myself grossly underwhelmed with the new albums coming out. Perhaps my former morbid gorging on anything I came across had left me desensitized, but nothing seemed capable of holding my attention for any length of time.

With that said, the aural appetite of this leviathan has been renewed upon stumbling across Patrick Watson's newest album, Wooden Arms.

Upon the first listen I was immediately enthralled. His ethereal voice still creeps hauntingly up my spine to reverberate within the confines of my head, and really what more could one ask for?

This album comes out later this month, so whether you were a fan of his Polaris-winning sophomore release Closer to Paradise or a newcomer to his particular, and often wonderfully peculiar, brand of "cabaret pop meets indie rock" I strongly suggest you keep your eyes open for it.

Try it: Patrick Watson - Firewood

missed connections, part 2.

Me: a slender twentysomething male wearing a striped grey v-neck, a purple hoodie, and skinny jeans.

You: a slightly disheveled older gentleman wearing a grey button up shirt and brown cardigan who, while walking by my roommate and I in a Tim Horton's last week, commented on my lack of shaving. While your criticism was entirely merited, your invasion of my personal space as you reached down to stroke my chin was not.

I think the admixture of shock and horror on my face scared you away, but in retrospect I just wanted to say thank you for making my day. Call me sometime?

Oh, let's get old old fashioned.

Sam Amidon amazes me on a fairly consistent basis. However, after finally having looked up one of the songs that provided inspiration for his album "All Is Well", I think I'm finally beginning to understand the sheer genius of it.

For your perusal:

The traditional folk song "Pretty Saro" (lyrics).

Mr. Amidon's reinterpretation of it (lyrics).

You can get his album here.

Like a daydream. Or a fever.

Try as I might, this won't leave my head.

The skyline was beautiful on fire

All twisted metal stretching upwards

Everything washed in a thin orange haze

I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful -

These are truly the last days"

You grabbed my hand

And we fell into it

Like a daydream

Or a fever.

Godspeed You! Black Emperor - The Dead Flag Blues

Listen to it

Buy it