Why I Love My Husband, Reason #5649847b

(This is completely unrelated to the previous post, by the way, you preverts.)

Brad is about the biggest music nerd I've ever known. He's got the High Fidelity guy beat by a mile. He's nerdalicious. He's geektacular. He's dorkarific. And I mean this in a good way. Yes, CDs take over our house; yes, we have three banjos, one upright and one electric bass, one mandolin, one octave mandolin, one trombone, one saxophone, two acoustic and three electric guitars, two harmonicas, one fiddle, one ukulele, one accordion, one concertina, one penny whistle, one slide whistle, one jaw harp, one theremin, one pedal steel guitar, one Wurlitzer electric piano, and one ocarina in our house. And a floor tom in a pear tree.

But despite all the Anthony Braxton math-jazz and prog-rock tendencies, he gets back into the car this weekend from Nubes with Boston's 1976 self-titled debut. Several minutes later, cut to both of us caterwauling at top volume the bedraggled lyrics to "Peace of Mind."

Maybe I'm lamenting a bit of my small-town, big-rock-radio past. Maybe it's a bit of pride for my hometown of the last 10 years. Maybe in a past life I was a 15-year-old boy. Whatever it is, I'm a sucker for Brad Delp's soaring alto and Tom Scholz' basement production that sounds like an arena. But there's no ironic tinge to the joy in listening; it's just fun and good. Thanks, Brad, for bringing it all home.