A deficiency of some kind. A blood-cell thing. Maybe I have a disease? I'm sitting in a certain cafe/restaurant in a certain neighborhood and, coming over the speakers, which aren't very loud, is a song, itself not very loud, by a famously not-loud band I've written about so many times Megan Seling is going to nail gun my head to the wall if I even type out the letters. They're Scottish. They were the subject of a "fact of the day" provided by yours truly here on Line Out in the early days of Line Out. Their name rhymes with Hell & Deb's Ass Chin. The song is "It Could Have Been a Brilliant Career." Why, oh why—WHY GOD??—must I be so obsessed with this music? I can hear it when it's barely playing. You could be playing it in your garret on another continent and, if your windows were open, my ears would perceive it. Why? Why must my ears and brain and heart be so starving for it? Maybe it's true what the commenters over on Slog say, that I'm aggressive and an asshole, and maybe Hell & Deb's Ass Chin—the band that epitomizes being a jock and a sweetheart simultaneously, the band that loves God and the gays equally, the band that is nothing but sweetness and light even when they're not happy—neutralizes the asshole side, balances me out, gives me what I don't have? I don't fucking know. But listen! "Sleep the Clock Around." Oh happy day, this means they're playing the whole album...