Hidden Track

Giving new meaning to the “I went to a boxing match and a Wilco show broke out” cliché, frontman Jeff Tweedy took a well-deserved swing at some poor schmuck that jumped on stage during the band’s first encore, Airline to Heaven. I’m sure Woody Guthrie woulda done the exact same thing: Peace, love, doooope. The […]

Welcome. This part is always incredibly awkward.

I mean, we don’t even know each other yet but already our roles are clearly defined: As someone that followed the link to this here blog, you obviously need something to read when you’re bored to work-a-day tears, and as the very definition of blogger goes, I want you to look at me, look at me, look at me.

So now that we know why we’re all here, let’s shift a little bit into why you should stay here. What can you expect to find here? What can I do for you? Will stopping here on a daily basis be a net positive to your day? Well, hows about you stop asking so many fuckin’ questions and peruse the introductory FAQ that follows…

Master of Ceremonies Emeritus Rick Danko welcomes you to the beginning of the beginning of the end of the beginning… To the folks at the Bearsville DMV that snapped this photo of an aging musical genius, you are a shining example of the stick that scratches Hidden Track’s perpetual itch.

More accurately, what isn’t Hidden Track? This blog is all things to all people: a warm blanket to a cold Canadian lumberjack wife, a cup of chocolate pudding to a kid who can’t swallow aspirin, a penis-shaped wand to a crude (and painfully unfunny) magician. It’s a boredom sherpa, a mental groundskeeper, a cure for what ails you, especially if you’ve got the measles, the mumps and/or the rubella.