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Those were the days my friend. They were destined to end. They had to. Homogenization would have been inevitable. The edge would have been dulled. Blunted even. DIY innovation would have morphed into corporate bile. I bought a new record album. Yes, record album. Two discs. A new record from the good folks at Alternative Tentacles. A new record of old (relatively) music. Rocky Mountain Low : the Colorado Musical Underground of the Late 1970s. And it is, for want of a better word, sweet. I have nothing to do with Colorado. Nor have I ever except for a layover or two or three at the Denver airport. But the late 1970s was my golden age. Rebellious high school years. Well, year rather. Just 1979. But the early eighties were good too. The album came with a bonus CD as well: the whole album. Well, almost. Everything from the vinyl version appears on the CD except for a pre-Dead Kennedys version of Jello's California über Alles. Ah. Memory lane. Conjured images of Eugene in the days of the Nads, the Foamlords, Tender Chunx, J. Gallows & the Executioners, and the Drills. Especially the Drills. Sniffle.