While my mother was between men, she took me to an open house. She did things like this. We followed the realtor through the rooms for a while before my mother sent me off. “Little girl,” pleaded the realtor, but I no longer answered to that call. When I heard my mother whistle, I returned to her side. The realtor extolled the extravagance of the master bedroom, which was indeed extravagant; it had a master porch and a master bathroom with little gold taps. My mother took me up in her arms...
In the demographics of major-market radio, it is a low-traffic hour. The bulk of automotive listeners have completed their commutes, and the listening public has become a viewing public-it's an hour for evening news and sitcom reruns, and the customer base that tunes in to Joe Soucheray and Jason Lewis by day is now likely preparing for bed.
"Dog," as in someone loud and loyal, someone utterly devoted-someone bellowing from the bench, first on field with a high five after a teammate's walk-off double. "Dog" as in a creature who doesn't know when the fight is over, whose nose can smell runs yet to come.
Within a damp, unwinterized Minneapolis basement, Jon Nielsen, Knife World's guitarist and occasional vocalist, sounds his first chord, an over-amplified shear that stuns the crowd, keg cups in hand and dressed for the cold, with its weight and volume. After a count-off from Josh Journey-Heinz's drum kit, a frenzied art-metal opus suddenly unfolds.
Pete Monohan is Pachyderm Studio's live-in custodian. He keeps watch over the Granite Room, which houses panels of polished stone as black as obsidian and...