Skeletons from the closet

Going through old cds is much like reading love letters returned from an ex-girlfriend, embarrassing and self-destructive. Truly this is the true representation of once great decisions turned sour over time, and moments of inspiration that come few and far between.

While cleaning out my CD collection I was astounded to fine such rare works as Tim Finn sitting along side Rachmaninoff. Ech. Remember Charles and Eddie? Tom Cochrane? Too many one hit wonders haunt my musical past.

Moreover, bad flashbacks of big hair, choreographed poses and wagging tongues were wrenched from the dark corners of my brain and puked upon the table as Cinderella, Saigon Kick and Ugly Kid Joe stared stupidly upwards at me as if I'd shook them from a drug-induced stupor.

So as I packed these best forgotten relics of my musical adolescence, I solemnly promise to only buy what is truly good.

And torrent the rest. =P