That’s right, sports fans, I smell baseball. When I was a kid, sports were seasonal. When the seasons changed, so did the sport. It’s hard for me to relate to sports these days. Football goes all the way into February. God knows when basketball ends (seems like it goes on forever— in the Pros, at least). And baseball ends about when the snow flies. But it always begins in Spring and it’s Spring now. Almost.
And it’s my view. It won’t mention Heart except to say that I knew their days were well past when they became a tribute band (and it was long before The Kennedy Center performance) and it won’t mention Nirvana because, let’s face it, Nirvana has already been mentioned enough (Okay, I might mention them once). I might mention Perry Como, though, because he had the hit with those lyrics and I might mention Bobby Sherman (just for the hell of it). I will mention many artists and bands of evidently little consequence outside of that fair city because I certainly do not hear them mentioned by people outside the Pac Northwest (by the people I know, anyway). But first, should you think Seattle a mere backdrop for movies and TV programs, let us look at what the youth think, and before you start pounding the keyboard in protest, I have not vetted the information and don’t really care (though having lived in Seattle for over thirteen years, I can attest to the fact that everyone does love Dick’s… Drive-In, and how can you not love the fact that they have a train/trolley called the SLUT). I’m just glad to see the youth making this attempt:
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 