Only in 3's

Because these things always happens in 3's, there will be one more music-related celebrity death by the end of today, and furthermore, just like Poly Styrene and Phoebe Snow, the third death will have the initials "PS". Based on this formula, here are my guesses:

1. Pete Seeger
2. Paul Simon
3. Paul Stanley
4. Peter Sframpton

Please don't send me any hate mail about this list. I am a music scientist, and this is my research.

It Takes a Nation of Zulus To Raise a Zulu Nation

Suffering from what I considered an infestation of zits in my youth, I was once informed that toothpaste, applied liberally to each blemish, would erase them quickly. During an application one morning, I was distracted by something or other and forgot to wash the gooey cream from my face, arriving at work with white spots all over my forehead and chin, garnering odd looks from fellow employees too polite to point out my gaffe. Isn't this the same flustered feeling one gets when No Smoke Records (who can't be bothered to create a website) once again informs us, to our disbelief, that Africa was once a hotbed of '60's garage rave-ups? Zulu Stomp: South Africa Garage Beats contains more great tunes than you can shake a rungu at. From Get Your Baggies On (by Bats) to I've Got News For You (by the oddly-monikered 004's), you'll find yourself standing slack-jawed at the wealth of garage-y goodness dripping from every groove. Personally, I find myself returning again and again to Freedom's Children's take on the overplayed Stones classic Satisfaction--with a breathless rhythm so primal, so urgent, I could almost swear it was The Monks taking a turn at this haggard horse. The entire comp rolls along at a clipped pace. It's as potent as a shot glass of Proactiv acne treatment served on the rocks. Or at least a similar pimple-themed punchline which hasn't occurred to me yet.

My Body, Myself

Here are a few of my many physical failures:

1. I still tie my shoes one bunny ear at a time.

2. I am unable to get to that one reoccurring zit which resides on my lower left shoulder. It requires asking complete strangers to reach it for me.

3. I have never been able to cross my eyes.

4. I am unable to skip when jumping rope--I can only pogo.

Here are the extraordinary physical successes of one-man-band Trin Tran:

1. It's a Burn!

2. Hot and Alive/Cold and Dead

3. Dark Radar

4. A-Bomb!

If Numbers were ever forced to downsize, Trin Tran could totally be the replacement scab worker.

White Light/White Heat/White Head

While recently buying gum at a local convenience store, I noticed the clerk at the cash register had the most incredible white-head pimple on his chin. It made me swoon, this pimple. Honestly, I was almost weak in the knees, made delirious with desire and envy. It took every ounce of my mighty, masculine strength to resist reaching up, grabbing that chin in my hands and squeezing! squeezing! squeezing! until the money shot enveloped me in its greasy bodily payday fluids. The euphoria of zapping that zit would have been similar to the unbridled emotion I get when listening to Texas Overture by Pere Ubu--a tune so filled to bursting with creamy-hot goodness that even the moster guitar riffs could be eaten like toast.