Pithy Title Here

Somehow, I just wrapped up one of the busier months of live music I've had. Sure, the two-night run in Oakland a few years ago when I caught Chvrches and Grimes on consecutive nights (getting Wolf Alice as a bonus), was something. That was also lightning in a bottle, the weekdays between two Coachella weekends when California is just lousy with big(ish) bands playing smaller shows. The run I've been fortunate enough to have since February 15 was more a combo of the ability to travel, some lucky ticket-getting and the right acts on tour in the same area around the right time. And, to be honest, they were all tremendous.

Songs will not be written about the Toyota Camry. A Camry will never feature in a major music video (at least not of a song you probably are going to like). The Camry is as white bread a car as you can find. It's earned its reputation as one of the most reliable cars on the road without any of the flash. Even when it tries to be flashy, such as a few recent redesign campaigns and its NASCAR launch, it sort of elicits a chuckle. It is the Pete Sampras of automobiles, lacking Agassi's flash, Federer's refinement, Nadal's passion... yet it does what it does so well. When I left New York City for Charlotte, N.C. in 2005, I needed a car. Well, I needed a car on the budget I was on, which, despite Charlotte's cosmopolitan aspirations, meant a pay cut from NYC, about-the-same rent, and new expenses (car payment, car insurance). You can imagine I wanted something that wasn't going to be in the shop with anything resembling frequency. The Camry fit the bill that Augu