There is a good chance you found us accidentally by using the word “taint” in your search (If you found us on purpose, you deserve our accolades). Of course we don’t know what you were looking for, but you stumbled on a damn cool project. Look around; let us help send you on a musical journey. Here you will find a number of album reviews from the strange and extreme to the tame and mainstream. Our reviewers are a bunch of obsessive miscreants. Most of us are avid music collectors and have been involved in the music world for decades. A couple of us have been in or are still in bands.
There are no rules on Tickle Your Taint Blog. Our reviewers might make you laugh, or piss you off; both results are legitimate. One reviewer might write a glowing review of an album another might tear it apart. We may end up adopting a single review system, such as five stars, or each reviewer may use his own or none at all. We may have a new review every week or we could end up with one every six months. This blog exists as a social experiment to build community among a diverse group of music maniacs – our reviewers and hopefully you. Pull down your knickers, lube up and join us in tickling yours and our taints.
If you are in a band, have released a physical (rather than an MP3) CD or record, and would like us to review your efforts, contact us at firstname.lastname@example.org
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Friday, June 23, 2017
Monday, June 19, 2017
Sunday, June 18, 2017
My father had Pick’s disease, which is type of frontotemporal dementia. He had it for at least fifteen years, so it was a long decline. For the last ten years of his life, memory loss became more pronounced. He had a limited ability to hold a conversation or to communicate generally, beyond simple questions or one-line comments. When my mother would come home from work, my father would walk to the door to see her. She needed a husband to ask her how her day at work was, to help cook the meal, to make future plans. He was “present,” waiting for her to share her thoughts, but the silence was weighty. Few words passed his lips. A stare does not satisfy the need for meaningful exchange. Obviously, life does not turn out the way we want.