December 11, 2013

This year I did something I’m totally not doing next year. I wrote about every damn new release (compact disc) I purchased. You can read all the reviews in full here or (in a less edited spew) here. Since these are CD reviews (plus a vinyl or two), there’s a trove of truly excellent releases missing from the following lists. Mostly stuff released on cassette, often by Canadians. In the new year I’m launching a new series called Kassetten which will eventually cover some of these 2013 tape releases. Otherwise, between Weird Canada and Tabs Out, they’ve been covered already and you should be hitting those sites up anyway. I know I also missed most of the vinyl releases I picked up. When did those Fresh Snow and Young Mother LPs come out?  Anyway, great records I never got around to reviewing. Also Salted, Zacht Automaat… the list could go on. Plus there’s a few albums I haven’t gotten around to checking out in any format yet (White Poppy, Booka Shade) which I expect to enjoy. Well, you’re familiar with the limitations of year-end lists. Anyhooo…



Youth Code: Youth Code 

I originally gave this EBM pummeller a 4.875 (out of 5) rating, but I’m bumping it up to  a solid 5. “…jackhammer, chest compressing, beat and that mechanical bass sound peppered with guttural screams and old movie samples….” is how I described it, suggesting they were only missing the hooks their forefathers Front 242, Nitzer Ebb and Skinny Puppy boasted (I know, bands you totally associate with hummable ditties). Well, fuck that. The hooks are there, buried just beneath the surface, waiting to reward grave robbers who listen to this record on their iPhone everyday while they give their fellow subway patrons the evil eye.

Perhaps my love for Youth Code is a barely disguised form of mid-life crisis. A return to those halcyon days of listening to my Too Dark Park cassette on a Sony Walkman, hating everyone in the hallway of my high school and feeling strangely good about it. It’s the kind of record that makes you feel completely vindicated being a misanthropic loner. I feel like music these days isn’t anti-social enough. It’s all about community building and, ew, togetherness. As if other people can be trusted. The state of the world is proof they can’t. You really want to build a community with those assholes?

Anyway, there aren’t enough records like this. Sweet, sweet social oblivion. 

Just in time for Christmas, Dias Records has just released another run of the vinyl.


Most of these I gave less than a 5/5 rating at the time, but they’re all 5/5 (or damn close) in my eyes now.

Valerie June: Pushin’ Against a Stone

I might simply live under some kind of counter-culture rock, unaware what the “mainstream” is listening to other than MumfordMiley and Drake, but it’s unfathomable to me how Valerie June‘s record isn’t more widely known. Obviously not in a Yeezus way (it’s not a record for thirteen year-olds and hipsters suffering from willful infantilism), but at least in a Neko Case kind of way. It’s exactly the kind of record you’d expect to see on the Rolling Stone year-end list. It’s a warm, smart, genre-bending, deeply emotional record, epic in scope but full of those intimate moments the mainstream MOR public is supposed to fawn over. Of course, Pushin’ Against a Stone does appear on that list but buried somewhere around 46, where a decade or two ago I feel like it’d have been in the top 5.

If people thought Paul Simon co-opting South African music was ground-breaking, what June does combining Afro-beat and bluegrass should have them completely losing their shit. But that was then and this is now, and for whatever reason (theories abound) no one cares about anything anymore. Information fatigue has caused the culture machine to stall, but no one’s really noticed because we’re still coasting downhill.

Anyway, on the bright side, people like Valerie June are still producing artful folk/rock/country/soul records with (what should be) a wide-appeal.


King Krule: 6 Feet Beneath The Moon

I gave Archy Marshall‘s debut full-lenth a 5/5 rating originally which was probably a tad generous in hindsight. But there aren’t too many artists coming out today who are this unique, who have his weird sort of charismatic, otherworldly presence—as if he’s less a real live boy and more of a character in a film. Which is, ultimately, what we want from our pop stars. More David Bowie, less David Robert Jones. I described him on 6 Feet Beneath The Moon as a “jazzy Mark E. Smith meets art-damaged Billy Bragg meets punk-thug Morrissey” and time will tell if he and his career lives up to those references. But for now this record does. Though how much I see him as an “exotic other” through a slight anglophile lens is hard to tell. Maybe to the Brits he’s just your average, unremarkable bloke? Probably.

Black Hearted Brother: Stars Are Our Home

Another record I most-likely over-hyped in my initial review with a 5/5 rating, Stars Are Our Home is still, in my books, one of the best shoegaze revival records of the past decade. Though, with Slowdive and Seefeel alumni on board, hardly a “revival” record at all, more of a natural progression for the genre (coming in 20 years late). It’s also a lot less pigeonholed than your average “shoegaze” album, touching on krautrock, post-punk, classic psychedelia and even (in a surprisingly good way) Britpop. But mostly what’s great about it, production and textures aside, is the songwriting. These are tunes that don’t drift away on the next breeze when they’re done but have the ability to stick with you without being contrived, gimmicky, earworms. A masterful pop-rock record, in the old style.

The Stargazer Lilies: We Are The Dreamers

The other really great shoegaze record of the year. This one’s straight-up classic shoegaze though. Zero points for innovation, but nail-on-head perfect.

Soko: I Thought I Was An Alien

I don’t listen to many “singer-songwriter” albums these days because, as songwriters, the singers mainly seem more interested in writing nice ditties that aren’t going to make anyone uncomfortable while they sip their lattes in Starbucks. That’s not songwriting. That’s content creation, no more relevant or meaningful than a Buzzfeed list. Now, I Thought I Was An Alien, this shit is songwriting. If you don’t feel uncomfortable listening to Soko‘s all-too-human tales of love and folly, you’re probably a sociopath. Now, why would you want to listen to a record so heartbreaking and fraught with emotional pitfalls? Because it’ll help make sense of the world and the tattered shambles of your life instead of putting a band-aid on it.


Aidan Baker: Already Drowning

I wrote, “Light as gauze and dense as concrete, Aidan Baker‘s post-post-rock collaborations with a series of female vocalists plays like a Wim Wenders film…” and I stand by that. Also the 5/5 rating I gave it. This torchy trip-hop tinted, slow-burn of an atmospheric dreamscape was close to being my pick for record of the year. The title-track should be a bona fide standard for jazz musicians in the future. Though it might have to be an apocalyptic future. So, yeah.

Orchid: The Mouths of Madness

This one, for me, edges-out Kadavar‘s Abra Kadavar ever so slightly for best proto-metal revivalist record of the year. In my slightly lukewarm review I only gave it a 4/5 at the time, but The Mouths of Madness has grown on me a lot since. Originally, I wrote: “they almost sound like Metallica might have in 1970. Or Venom if they could actually play?” Ouch! It’s a lot better than that. Orchid don’t just recreate the sound of those old Sabbath et al records perfectly, but they write tunes to rival them as well. Whenever shuffle throws one of the songs from this album at me on my phone, I stop whatever I’m doing, look to see who it is and think, Damn, these assholes are so fucking awesome

Willy Moon: Here’s Willy Moon

I’m not really comfortable with the idea of a “guilty pleasure” when it comes to music. If there’s a song or artist who makes you feel good, you should enjoy them without embarrassment. Willy Moon, though, is the kind of ridiculous media creation I’m not sure I could sing the praises of in public without seeming like I was just trying to get a rise out of people. But then, people seem to like Kanye without irony or a sense of self-loathing, so what do I know? Other than Here’s Willy Moon being, as I wrote in my original review: “…pure superficial teenage rock’n’roll mayhem—but it’s shockingly sincere pure superficial teenage rock’n’roll mayhem. In a way that makes you realize how everything you’ve been listening to is complete poser bullshit… like it was recorded in some kind of computerized juke-joint on the outskirts of a post-apocalyptic dystopia. Yet it’s a really fun juke-joint where you’re ecstatically dancing while the city burns, oblivious—or in spite of—the desolation outside.”

Arrington de Dionyso’s Malaikat Dan Singa: Open The Crown

There’s people who like to think they play rock’n’roll music and then there’s Arrington de Dionyso. Fuck those other people.

The Black Angels: Indigo Meadow

This album was just catchy enough that I figured I’d tire of it in double-quick time. I never did. Apparently, my original take on it was “Not unlike The Doors fuzzed-out on the darkside but with a dude that sounds like Grace Slick (!) singing.” Though I completely understand what I meant by that, it doesn’t read like anything I’d actually want to listen to. It doesn’t do justice to just how well Black Angels balance heavy psych with classic rock sensibilities and it doesn’t fully impress upon you how dopamine-inducing Alex Maas‘ voice is.

Human Eye: 4 Into Unknown

There’s people who like to think they play rock’n’roll music and then there’s Arrington de Dionyso. And there’s also Human Eye.

Follakzoid: II

Original review: “A first glance there’s something of a gimmick about a South American band playing krautrock, but then it’s really no different than all the North American bands doing it. Or Beak> who are from the UK which is also not Germany (little geography lesson for you there). Anyway, Follakzoid‘s second release sounds not unlike like Neu with a bit of a Kraftwerk meets Hawkwind edge. Which is a good thing. Especially when, unlike a lot of modern “kraut” records, there’s almost no discernible influence later than 1974 on II.  If you’re going to meticulously adhere to a specific genre aesthetic instead of creating your own art, at least do it right.” I can’t add to that except I probably should have given it higher than a 4.5. Why was I so stingy with that final 0.5? Low blood sugar probably. Makes one grumpy.

Psychic Ills: One Track Mind 

I didn’t like this record much the first-time I heard it. “… the same basic groove carries through all nine of its tracks … almost zero variance in tempo, dynamics or emotion between songs. It’s almost literally a one track album.” Once the actually quite hook-laden songs grew on me, and I realized how fantastic they are, I revised this opinion to: “…. a top-notch hypnotic, mellow stoner rock that’s been superbly engineered for spending an afternoon on the couch with (or without) a bong.” That about face apparently happened within the confines of a single review. Why people read anything I write, I dunno.  Anyway, One Track Mind, though baring almost no resemblance to Psychic Ills‘ previous records, has been a more consistently rewarding listen throughout the year than most. It sure as hell deserves better than the 4.25/5 I gave it. Low. Blood. Sugar.


Some of these were real close to being in the above category. Most I actually listen to more than my top 13 but lack a certain je ne sais quoi.


Destruction Unit: Deep Trip

There’s people who like to think they play rock’n’roll music and then there’s Arrington de Dionyso. And there’s also Human Eye. And Destruction Unit. (4.25/5)

Pop. 1280: Imps of Perversion

Not a homogeneous homage to swampy no-wave aggression, the album also veers towards art-house industrial and straight(er) ahead American noise-punk of the David Yow variety. In short every damn thing I like about rock’n’roll wrapped-up like half-gnawed body parts in one messy little package. ” Yep. Still sounds about right to me.  These guys, in case you were wondering, also play rock’n’roll music. (4.75/5)

Black Joe Lewis: Electric Slave

To be honest, enough time hasn’t passed since its release for me to revise an opinion on this one. Perhaps in the future I’ll say, “What was I thinking?!” But I don’t think so and, for now, I’ll say it again: “Starts off like Sly Stone run through Jimi‘s octave pedal, slinks into Jon Spencer-ish garage rock, funks it up James Brown-style at times like he did with The Honeybears, and ends up bashing out a pretty violent set of socially conscious, fuzz-soaked, party tunes. It’s sort of everything Lenny Kravitz might have been if his back up band had been made up of members of  Mudhoney and The Thing. Which, in my book, is pretty rad.” (4/5)

Ben Harper & Charlie Musselwhite: Get On!

At the risk of throwing any hipster cred I might have under a bus, I can’t say enough good things about this goddamn Ben Harper record—words I never thought I’d write. But if appreciating a solid contemporary blues album, one that wouldn’t have Muddy Waters and John Lee spinning in their graves (it’s better than a lot of John Lee’s latter-period disappointments, truthfully), means I’m not cool, then I have no use for hipster cred. Which isn’t any kind of news flash. “Get On! is like how you wish those electric Muddy Waters records would sound or what it’d be like if R.L. Burnside had been more focused on music than whiskey or even Jon Spencer if he were actually black. Damn.” Damn, indeed. (4.75/5)

Sean Proper: Design Engine

For this kind of thing, Fahey, Basho, and Kotke covered every inch of dusty back-road about 50 years ago. But if you’re going to buy one American primitive solo acoustic guitar record this year, buy this one. Where other young guns in the genre have the chops, Proper has the heart—which really is what we love about those old dudes anyway. Dying For Bad Music might even have some copies of the beautiful limited edition, hand assembled CD left. (4/5)

Date Palms: The Dusted Sessions

Original review: “Swirling, ethno-psych soundscapes that bridge neo-classical, spaghetti westerns and astral travelling in some kind of dessert ritual surrounding the annual solar eclipse.” Whoa! That makes me want to listen to it again right now. (4.5/5)

Ruby Suns: Christopher

This pick only narrowly beats out Beacon‘s The Ways We Separate or maybe Braids‘ Flourish//Perish. They’re all synthy, hooky and carry about a 4/5 rating in my books. To be honest, the low-key nature of Beacon and Braids means they’re still on my iPhone playlists and, unlike Ruby Suns, I listen to them regularly. Unassuming and innocuous—ergo endlessly enjoyable when reading on the subway. Anyway, Christopher is a stronger, poppier breed of indie synth rock. More reminiscent of my ’80s heroes Pet Shop Boys and Jimmy Somerville. In fact, I like to imagine the whole thing is a love letter to Chris Lowe. Perhaps from Jimmy Somerville. A synth-pop fanfic. Anyway,  the lead track “Desert of Pop” may as well have been called “Dessert of Pop” given how rich and sweet it is. But, like any sweet, rich dessert, it gives you a stomach ache after consuming too much. Time to reach for the Beacon Pepto and the Braids Bismo.

Purson: The Circle and the Blue Door

Again, I could have chosen the equally heavy and psychedelic Vow by Naam to fill this slot. Naam probably are the better band. Vow is probably the better record. But there’s something about The Circle and the Blue Door which holds a certain enchanting magic. Naam sound a bit like real-life dudes you’d know from the rehearsal studio next door (that’s not in any way a dis), but even without umlauts over the U, Purson sound like rock gods. Perhaps because they’ve plundered the tombs of every classic psych record ever made. My original assessment was: “All-in-all a pretty solidly authentic-as-fuck sounding record. This is reverent revivalism done right. Purson has stuck to the adventurous spirit of the music they’re meticulously replicating and, while not actually doing a single thing that hasn’t been done before, are somehow making it sound not at all like a pale reflection of past masters or just plain boring. Good revival bands in any genre have the benefit of 40 years of hindsight and learning from their heroes’ mistakes. I feel like Purson asked the question, ‘Why aren’tall the songs on Crown of Creation like the title track?’ and came up with the obvious answer, ‘They could! Let’s do it!’” But, seriously, why no umlauts? (4/5)

Wax Idols: Discipline + Desire

Another toss-up. It was between this and that Savages disc. Both relatively authentic Siouxsie-influenced post-punk bleakery. Good hooks, good performances and production. I might even enjoy the Savage’s record more, but Wax Idols might have turned out a slightly more varied and original effort. Or not. Hence, the toss-up. Either way, both are above average offerings in the slightly gothy post-punk revivalist genre. Say, 4/5 or maybe slightly less (or more).

Pet Shop Boys: Electric

As a veteran Pethead, I wanted to give this record 5/5. I wanted it to be my top pick for 2013. But, though yards better than lat year’s Elysium, it’s a flawed return to techno/house and synth-pop form. Which of course didn’t stop me from buying it and the associated singles in multiple formats. Anyway, a few tracks cannot stand up to repeated listens. “Love Is A Bourgeois Construct” suffers the most, becoming severely irritating over a period of time (and a multitude of remixes). “Bolshy” follows suit. The rap break by “Fake-Drake” Example in “Thursday” grows tiresome and, in some way I can’t place my finger on, is rather cringe-worthy. Speaking of “Thursday”, in a break from PSB tradition, the b-sides on that single are terrible. PSB-sides are normally something to look forward to as they’re generally edgier and more interesting than the album cuts. As far as those go, the less oversold LP tracks, “Vocal“, “Fluorescent“, “Inside a Dream” and “Shouting In The Evening” are the Boys’ best moments in years. And the concert was absolutely fabulous. (4/5)

No Joy: Wait To Pleasure

There were a metric shit-tonne of good (or at least decent) shoegaze albums this year (Mood Rings, Drowner, Splashh). No Joy continue to lead the pack of nu-gazers with their melodic touch and deft hand with the noise baton. (4.25/5)

X-TG: Desertshore/The Final Report

Nothing to add to my first report: “It’s almost as if Chris and Cosey were filling in for the deceased Jhon Balance to help Sleazy make one final Coil album. By the end, of course, they were filling in for him as well since he died before the sessions were completed. This adds a little extra myth and romance to the two discs, but even so they would have been an achievement. The full-album cover of Nico‘s Desertshore is breathtaking. It’s a reinterpretation that is true to the original yet reveals the beauty hidden in Nico’s challenging classic while being as insidiously menacing a recording as anything Sleazy ever produced. He always specialized in producing meditative music for endarkenment. The Final Report is a darker, more challenging affair in line with Coil’s darker moments and the better ones in TG’s catalogue. A fitting tribute to a dark wizard.” (4.75/5)

Nightlands: Oak Island

Feels like there’s a lot of folks doing this kind of off-kilter take on the Hall and Garfunkle or Simon and Oates template these days. Sort of window into a parallel universe where Talking Heads or Yello decided to do a yacht-rock album. Nightlands are, so far, the only one of these soft rockers I’ve honestly enjoyed. His take feels like less like hipster irony and more like something that just came out of him naturally. Perhaps a result of being raised on an unbalanced diet of Laurie Anderson and Air Supply. (4/5)

Ex Cops: True Hallucinations

I can’t not pick this record. I wanted to not pick it. But it’s too good. Why do I want to hate it so much? Because there’s an audible stank of insincerity about it? Well, that hardly separates it from most indie-pop these days. Perhaps it’s that they appear to be—based on how they look like “hipster rock stars” provided by Central Casting—a clone of Cults. Who are, themselves, a sort of insufferable douche bag, faux-glamorous, pre-fab, major-label bandwagon version of the Best Coast/Dum Dum Girls/Vivian Girls scene. Anyway, Ex Cops wrote (or someone wrote for them) a sold set of truly great (if not copyright-law testing) pop-songs spanning the history of rock. Like Robert Pollard and Rivers Cuomo started writing for The Raveonettes


The reason most people don’t by CDs in the age of downloads (legal or otherwise) is they tend to suck hard lemons.

Haim: Days Are Gone

You know what gets me about “Falling“? It’s going good. Real good. There’s a pre-chorus that builds a ramp up to an anthemic chorus that… NEVER ARRIVES. Who produced this thing? Who let them get away with that? Who didn’t sit them down with a copy of “Total Eclipse of the Heart” and say, “Okay, if you want to write amazing, chart topping pop songs, as you clearly do, here’s the template.” (2/5)

Depeche Mode: Delta Machine 

Perhaps the most angering and disappointing “come back” album ever. Rapey lyrics sung by granddads for the anti-win. (0/5)

Chelsea Light Moving: s/t

First blush: YEAH! On closer listen: Nyah… I mean, pretty good if none of those Sonic Youth records ever existed. (2.5/5)

Beach Fossils: Clash The Truth

I really thought this was a pretty good record at first. Not top-13 good, but good. And then it suddenly seemed cold and lifeless as a petrified shell found on the bea… Oh, well, top marks for picking a band name anyway. (2/5)

Julia Kent: Character

It’s not a terrible record by any stretch. As the score for the right film, it’d be aces and spades. But as a stand alone suite of strings compositions, its really not that engaging, offering nothing new. Kronos Quartet made about 9,000 records exactly like this. Neither gloriously beautiful nor a challenging exploration into sound or theory or technique. It’s just sort of… there. (2/5)

Hanni El Khatib: Head In The Dirt

Family” is  fantastic single/video. (1/5)

Life Coach: Alphawaves

Not having ever liked Trans Am that much, I shouldn’t have expected to like the dude’s new project. Even if it’s krautrock. It was probably the expectation that let me down in the end as, to me at least, Alphawaves sounds like the Nickleback of krautrock records. (1.5/5)

Still Corners: Strange Pleasures

I keep waiting and hoping that the influence of the film Drive will produce a record I’ll actually like. Because the way Drive looks, is what I like to listen to. Law of averages says it’s going to happen. As yet, it has not. (2/5)

Akron/Family: Sub Verses

There’s few bands who can lose a core member and carry on as if nothing happened. In fact, for pretty much every band except AC/DC, a name change was in order. When Cliff Burton died, Metallica ceased to exist for me. Arbirary? Not really. The proof of the pudding is in the tasting and the pudding tasted like shit with Newstead subbed-in for Burton. At least to my tongue. Like in baking, sonic ingredients are important. Anyway, I suspect this is how I feel about Akron/Family—that I’d be less critical of their post-Ryan Vanderhoof albums if they called themselves Fargo/Cult or some shit after Love Is Simple. But I’m beginning to wonder if I ever actually liked Akron/Family or if it’s just the association with M. Gira and Young God Records that I was enamored with. Something about Sub Verses makes me want to revisit those first three albums and, possibly, discard them as well. Also, I need some more room in the A’s on my shelf. (2.5/5)

Wild Nothing: Empty Estate EP

Yeah. Like their label-mates Beach Fossils, there’s something not-there about Wild Nothing. Like you expect them to be this wild indie-pop band but they’re really kind of noth… Ah, another apt band name. (2/5)

Club 8: Above The City

I have zero recollection of why I thought buying this record would be a good idea. (0/5)

Part Time: PDA

This record kinda made me hate indie-pop in the 2010’s. Okay, it didn’t make me hate indie-pop. But it’s made it a struggle. (1/5)

Merchandise: Children of Desire

On paper, a band I’d love. Shoegaze textures, epic scope, post-punk flavour… Weird thing though, when the singers from kinds of bands take-on Ian Curtis‘ baritone croon, I tend to tune-out. And scrunch up my nose like I’ve stepped in something. These guys always put too much romantic passion into their delivery and it ends up sounding more like Vegas-era Elvis. Curtis shouted sometimes, Curtis screamed on occasion. But he was never, ever passionate. Deep voices should never be passionate. (1/5)


I reserve the right to change my mind. And also not change my mind.

Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds: Push The Sky Away

When I gave Push The Sky Away a 5/5 rating my friend Rich questioned my judgment. He didn’t care for it at all. My judgement or the album. Yet I stood fast by my convictions, declaring it the best of Nick Cave‘s “mellow” albums. Perhaps a career highlight. I assumed it’d easily be my number 1 pick for the year. And then I went and never listened to the damn thing a single time since. So what does that say?

Yo La Tengo: Fade

When Fade came out, I didn’t care for it much. Then Rich, the same Rich, declared it was one of his favourite albums of the year and, knowing a deluxe 2CD edition had just been released, I gave it another listen. It still doesn’t grab me, though it is indeed a touch less drab than I’d previously thought. I gave it a 3/5 before, I could go as high as 3.75/5 now. And the opening track “Ohm” is a pretty great tune in the classic YLT mold.  Now I’m wondering if the alternate and demo versions of these songs on the deluxe edition are something I need. Look up “sucker” in the dictionary and you’ll see a picture of me.

El Perro Del Mar: Pale Fire

I gave this album a 1.5/5. Whoa! A tad harsh, no? I mean, I haven’t missed the copy I traded in, but still… I must have felt pretty betrayed at the time. Her voice alone with worth a 3/5. But I have that voice on her first three albums singing better songs… but there were so many worse albums this year.

My Bloody Valentine: mbv

This was the first album I reviewed in 2013 and since it was a touch-stone for some many releases that came after I wanted to revisit it. Then I realized I didn’t even have to listen to it again to do so. My viewpoint on  M B V now is that it may as well cease to exist. It’s served it’s purpose. It proved My Bloody Valentine could come back after several decades with an album that isn’t a legacy-destroying travesty (looking at you PIXIES). But, though that’s a fair accomplishment, it’s unlikely I’ll pull the album out very often. Honestly, it’s going to be Isn’t Anything or the EPs every time. Also, it feels somehow dirty to heap any amount of praise on the album. People should be rewarded for doing good works, not for simply refraining from doing something really, really bad. M B V isn’t a bad deed, but you shouldn’t get cookies for that. Now… where’s the whipping pole we’re going to tie Black Francis to so he can live out his final breaths in excruciating pain?


One comment

  1. when you love the music we are children of the same father. A fraternal greeting. Nice choices… compliments!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: