Alice In Chains

This CD was the beloved soundtrack of my life back in maybe 2004, a smokey, sinewy dirge into the beauty of despair. Through a combination of over-listening and general change of mindset, I eventually couldn't bear to listen to it for a decade. In fact it made me sick.

A few weeks ago I was on a date at Melo Melo kava bar and they played the entire album, to my rapt unexpected enjoyment. Lush acoustic guitars and a bulbous rhythm section were the backdrop to whistling ethereal guitars and the Howlin'-Wolf-meets-heroin-junkie cry of the late Layne Stayley. Kava flowing and my nascent romance smoldering, the joint was filled with rock and roll SMOKE.

Now I listen again to Jar of Flies, in a hot bath infused with clove oil, and I marvel at the physics of the Bluetooth speaker crackling oddly every time my foot comes in contact with the metal from the plumbing controls.