This mix has body-image issues, but pretends it doesn't. On most scales, it is phat, nonetheless. From the big meaty bouncy grooves of Starfucker, to the emaciated tones of Interpol, to the sweet contours of Monster Movie, to the drugged-up sass of Times New Viking, to the poppin' pretties of Aztec Camera, the Go-Betweens, and some other gooberrific top 40 messes that seemed right at the time, this is a harvest of emotions that followed the death of someone, who I saw at work everyday that made me laugh and who I could make laugh, someone that accidentally picked up the phone and told the boss that she didn't habla Espanol and hung up. There's a lot more to that story and I'll tell it later, but I must say that it's weirdly coincidental that just after making that goofy mixtape for the "ghost" of my Uncle Clarence, Shelby dies tragically. At any rate, this mix isn't about her, but it would not have occurred without the insomnia that hearing the news of her death brought about. I miss her and she didn't deserve to go out like that.

So this mix doesn't know what it is, but in pretending, even with the silly cover art and all the rest, it succeeds, for me, today. Fuck.