There is a feeling of exultation as you walk through the large, double paneled doors of a medieval church. Then there is the wonder one discovers as they step their toes onto the manicured lawns of a King’s former gardens, with its drooping trees and elaborate fountains. Or maybe shock and awe as you enter an ancient Roman theater, the rocks old with time and rain. Wherever we find ourselves while exploring there are those threshold moments, the crossing from this world into some other existence, some other time. Continue reading
They walked on stage like art-gallery attendees, little skinny jeans and old button up shirts, curious and quiet. There were six in total, the new lineup after a three-year hiatus, all of whom brought their own little flare to the old Shins songs, and a whole lot of dopeness to the new ones.
Right from the start they were on. James Mercer, my idol and manly soul mate (little does he know), picked up that faded-white Les Paul Jr. and that hushed persona vanished.
“Called to see, if your back was still aligned, and your sheets were growing grass all on the corners of your bed.”