Now that I’m old, responsible and practically on my death bed, I’m fascinated with the who-gives-a-shit brattiness of Lassie’s “Phonecalls on My Deathbed”. Lyrics like “The sooner I get distracted / The better / Haven’t returned / That call yet” fill me with joy and that choppy guitar riff, backed by a relentless drum beat and shouty chorus, makes me feel like Lazarus with an erection. Or better yet, like Marcel Proust biting into a madeleine. Check it via Discos Peroquébien .
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