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. . Excellent review of Time. That song certainly deserves all the accolades possible. "The password is what." |
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Could use some paragraph breaks.
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Are we allowed to post links to streams of these albums? | |
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Lol..."wall of text." Yes, excellent review, but a B- on presentation. . Not sure. "The password is what." |
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Nothing at all but once upon a time, smoking pot and listening to Prince at the same time could be dangerous. That was having far too much of an endorphin rush at one time, trust me, I KNOW!
The insulting part is NOW, I actually might have to smoke some weed just to find some flavor in this BLANDness that is AOA. And since it already sounds BLAND to me through my Bose headphones, I don't think a gram is going to be enough, so I'll have to get back to you on this, next weekend.
As for the 3 or 4 non-BLAND Prince Albums? For You, Prince, Dirty Mind, Controversy, 1999, Purple Rain, ATWIAD, Parade, SOTT, LoveSexy, Batman, I knew from the start that I loved you with all my heart. | |
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, Diamonds and Pearls and Emacipation. Post 2000 - Musicology.
It's funny because the other day I was thinking how I would be satisfied if at least the music was interesting. I'm not interested in buying these albums based on what I've heard. I am interested in hearing them, just not buying them. 2010: Healing the Wounds of the Past.... http://prince.org/msg/8/325740 | |
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Alexandernvrmind said:
IDK V10... hes been corny for a while. Its a fine line with Prince. Diamond and Pearls you could be a happy boy or a girl. Gold... Graffitti Bridge. We are the New Power Generation and we want to change the world! He could be corny but a lot of times it worked. The music or the hook was soooo good it worked. On the examples I just gave that is not the case and honestly there is nothing corny on AOA IMO
If you don't mind me asking is their recent work you do like? LotusFlower (disc 1 of course)? Rainbow Children, 3121? Again I think some of your points make sense but its like you are talking about Planet Earth or Rave... not AOA yes I agree with you on D&P being corny, and I agree that when the music is great one is more likely to overlook it and think of it as "charming" instead of corny. But I think the cornyiness musically and lyrically on a XY graph have been slowly converging to the top of the corniness scale, and likewise on a timeline axis has shown it has slowly been inching upward where the corniness ultimatly trasfoms to banality and something cringeworthy. To me at least. [Edited 9/29/14 13:54pm] | |
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Then why did you call me out as some sort of stoner shitheel for suggesting that smoking weed adds to music appreciation on occasion, and apprecation for this album in particular? You seemed to, at least. Sorry you had a dangerous experience combining the two (Prince and pot). Give it a shot! I'd be interested to hear about the endorphin rush and the danger you experienced.
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This album is on par or better than all the ones I bolded and, for the record, I haven't even smoked pot while listening to it. Yet. But I'm looking forward to it. How is this album "bland"? You keep using that word but haven't elaborated or described why you feel that way. It's inceredibly thick, rich and layered.
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Your entire review is "it's BLAND" and it "it SUCKS" and "I'm going to shoot myself instead of listening to this" but details would help.
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Remember how so many ppl on here thought Joshua was a crap producer after "Fall In Love 2 Night"? WRONGO. "The password is what." |
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Where did you get all of that from? I just found the suggestion ironic.
I did elaborate on why I feel it's BLAND. To ME: it's uninspired, heart-less, soul-less, FUNK-less and preachy. I don't hear a matured Prince, experimenting with loops, layers and whatever the fuck else the critics are being paid by WB to write in their BS reviews. I hear the same cookie-cutter, non-emotionally invested, half-assed effort wise crap he's been doing for the last several years.
In all honesty, I'd rather smoke some weed and watch Graffiti Bridge again, than waste it on AOA because I couldn't smoke enough to spice up AOA, if I tried. I knew from the start that I loved you with all my heart. | |
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[Edited 9/29/14 12:44pm] |
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I can't stand that song, but I do enjoy most of AOA & I'm tremendously glad that song is not wasting space on this album. I find it amazing that so many love this song, to me it's pure pop crap for teeny boppers. To each their own I suppose If "The Rainbow Children" is at least a tiny bit inspired by DeAngelo, I think "Art Official Age" deserves the same credits for Janelle Monae. And no doubt dozens of other things, including, and perhaps most importantly, his youthful counterparts, that have perhaps allowed him, inspired him to once again be a playful, bizarre, freaky spirit in the studio, masterfully concocting a choir of a hundred voices that feels much more the embodiment of "Lovesexy" than "The Rainbow Children". He's not on a pedestal looking down at the great unwashed, rather it feels like he's sitting in the grass (while some are even smoking it) celebrating the awesome potential. I believe he's using modern tools and techniques to show how it can be done, to reinforce the theme of a caged generation that has sometimes forgotten how to fly. Quite a turn from the old man who once yelled at The Internet for getting in its backyard. The old confessional Prince might someday show a completely new side. But until then I think he had to find a deeply connected way back to resolving his past magnificence, which in the previous 10 years, despite its moments of brilliance here and there, at least to me, always, or eventually, came across a bit like ill-fitting Lycra. | |
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I hear ya. I enjoy it for the disposable pop that it is & Prince dabbling in pop culture again with the show. But I'm also glad it wasn't included on AOA. "The password is what." |
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Nooooooo! I was starting to like her. Don't put this on her. I knew from the start that I loved you with all my heart. | |
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From this:
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I can't wait to hear this album. Some claim it's a masterpiece, others a heaping, steaming pile. Obviously it can't be both.
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^Its a prince site, of course it can. The Most Important Thing In Life Is Sincerity....Once You Can Fake That, You Can Fake Anything. |
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It's more consistent than 20Ten (9 dog turds and one classic, Future Soul Song), but overall it's still the sound of an artist well past his prime. The peerless ability is still there, but as a songwriter, ideas-man and creative force, he's pretty much spent. Every second track starting with the first (but omitting the 'affirmations') are OK, but there's really nothing here worthy of even 2004 Prince. Breakdown, possibly the best track on the album, feels like an offcut from New Power Soul, but even that was his worst album by far from that era. Which leaves the tracks in between which I don't like at all. Including the worst moment of his entire career: Breakfast Can Wait. It's not only shit, but probably has the dumbest, most offensive lyrics I've ever heard. Faced with the prospect of not getting the sex he is demanding: 'You can't leave a black man in this state.' Ignoring the potential race issue... what if she does just leave ya like that, P? Coz I'm especially worried about this line: 'cant stop even if the police come'. Sheeee-it, even Ted Bundy called it a night when he heard a siren outside, but you keep going P, coz 'you think she's great'. You can always lawyer-up afterwards. Jesus H. Christ. 2/5 |
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I was listening to Last Heart: 2010: Healing the Wounds of the Past.... http://prince.org/msg/8/325740 | |
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I'm afraid I can't take your review seriously if you think Future Soul Song is a classic. That's real talk.
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SupaFunkyOrgangrinderSexy said:
I was listening to Last Heart: We've all said we're gonna kill someone. Not many of us have threatened to rape someone though. And especially not that we'd still keep humping away, holding their hands out of reach of the fruit bowl, even as SWAT came through the door. I'll give him a pass for thoughtless vulgarity. But it doesn't reflect too well either way. |
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What's your problem with the music? I can understand why some folks might not dig it or find it up their alley but to call it "uninteresting" and "bland", "boring" and "uninspired", as some are saying, just boggles my fucking mind. Becuase, say what you will about the new stuff, it's hardly boring. When I think "boring", I think of NEWS and Planet Earth. AOA has layers of weirdness and ear candy happening all over the place. The songwriting is even back to a large extent. What's uniinteresting about it? The last 4 or 5 tracks are among the greatest opus Prince has ever done. Christ, he even managed this time to make segues listenable and bearable.
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Plectrum Electrum even manages to capture the aftershow/jam/rock n roll side of Prince that most of the world has never heard and that was frustratingly absent on "It Aint Over". I'm not sure what some people's problems are with these albums | |
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McD said: SupaFunkyOrgangrinderSexy said:
I was listening to Last Heart: We've all said we're gonna kill someone. Not many of us have threatened to rape someone though. And especially not that we'd still keep humping away, holding their hands out of reach of the fruit bowl, even as SWAT came through the door. I'll give him a pass for thoughtless vulgarity. But it doesn't reflect too well either way. Pleeeease what the hell you smokin? The greatest live performer of our times was is and always will be Prince.
Remember there is only one destination and that place is U All of it. Everything. Is U. | |
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To be honest, I haven't heard the albums in full, just individual cuts and they aren't spectacular. Prince fans are so starving for the real prince that crumbs taste like cake! [Edited 9/29/14 14:06pm] 2010: Healing the Wounds of the Past.... http://prince.org/msg/8/325740 | |
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New York loves it! http://www.newyorker.com/...ince-album A Legitimately Magical Prince Album CREDIT PHOTOGRAPH BY KEVIN MAZUR/WIREIMAGE VIA GETTY In 2010, Prince released an album, called “20Ten,” that ushered in the longest silence of his thirty-five-year career as a recording artist. For most of Prince’s creative existence, he’s put out an album a year, sometimes double and triple sets. After “20Ten,” though, came nothing. Well, nothing by Prince’s standards: plenty of singles trickled out, along with rumors about upcoming projects, but there was no major release. Then, earlier this year, he announced a return to Warner Bros. records, at first for the purpose of assembling a thirtieth-anniversary edition of “Purple Rain,” which would include outtakes and rare demos. This has not yet materialized. What has emerged is his first album of new material since “20Ten,” and the second: this week, Prince resurfaces with “Art Official Age,” a solo album, and “PlectrumElectrum,” a long-delayed collaboration with his all-female backing group, 3rd Eye Girl. “PlectrumElectrum” is easier to understand and easier to dispense with, which doesn’t mean that it’s subpar, exactly. It’s a short rock record with plenty of guitar, and includes meditations on sex, self-empowerment treatises, and energetic songs about energy. The more ambitious songs often spotlight someone other than Prince. Hannah Ford, the band’s drummer, sings the plaintive ballad “Whitecaps,” and “Boy Trouble” is a strange flower of a song with an out-of-left-field speed rap. The so-called solo record, “Art Official Age,” is considerably more interesting. For starters, Prince has dispensed with his typical “Produced, Arranged, Composed, and Performed by Prince” credit, the one on which much of his mystique as a one-man band and all-around genius was founded, and has shared production credit with Joshua Welton, who also happens to be Hannah Ford’s husband. Was this an admission by Prince that he needed another pair of ears? Was he in search of a more contemporary sound? The quasi-title track that opens the album (“Art Official Cage”) seems to suggest so. It’s a strange welter of E.D.M. clichés and Europop, with some gnomic lyrics, some grinding guitar, and some rapping. It’s a mess, provocative but not exactly successful; it sounds like a track that was left off Prince’s 1989 “Batman” soundtrack, updated for 20Fourteen. But the rest of the album is easily Prince’s most coherent and satisfying record in more than a decade. In the past few years, the Prince songs that leaked online seemed to be less about paving the way for a new album and more about trolling the Internet. “Breakfast Can Wait,” a lithe and light funk number, was released with a cover photo of Dave Chappelle as Prince. Only a snippet of “This Could Be Us” leaked, but it was enough to confirm that Prince had written a song about a popular Internet meme that used a picture of him from his “Purple Rain” days. As proper singles started appearing, though, the album came into sharper focus. Songs like “Clouds” and “U Know,” slower and more repetitive than the kaleidoscopic funk-rock we’ve come to expect from Prince, suggested a new direction—a kind of gelatinous, futuristic R. & B. These tracks worked in concert with the other singles to sketch out a theme: that technology separates us from those we’re close to, and even from ourselves; and that the lack of integration may well result in disintegration. “Clouds,” the second track on the album, which opens with the sound of a radio tuning, critiques the way the computer age offloads experiences to distant servers (that’s what the clouds are); the song instead prioritizes romance and human connection (“You should never underestimate the power of a kiss on the neck when she doesn’t expect a kiss on the neck”). It also folds in a well-constructed argument about the way the Internet era has encouraged empty exhibition and a half-baked argument about violence and bullying, before ending with a sci-fi monologue delivered by a British female voice that seems to suggest that Prince has been placed in some sort of centuries-long suspended animation. “Clouds” is a kind of manifesto: “When life’s a stage in this brand new age / How do we engage?” Prince’s answer is to do a version of what he’s always done, which is absorb nearly every kind of music available and, via alchemic wizardry, turn it into something that produces thoughts and emotions. That’s even more evident on “U Know,” which is built on a sample of the singer Mila J’s “Blinded” and alternates wordy half-rapped verses about romantic misunderstanding and spiritual crisis with an irresistibly seductive chorus. The songs seem like R. & B., but they’re statements of deep unrest. Then the album hits a lull, with tracks that declare the power of music rather than demonstrate it, and insist on the superiority of the past. It’s grumpy-old-man music, done with plenty of panache. None of this, though, is sufficient preparation for the homestretch of “Art Official Age,” which is where Prince stops worrying about the future or the past and truly inhabits the present. Beginning with “What It Feels Like,” a duet with the singer Andy Allo, Prince delivers a series of ballads, broken up by interludes and a red-meat dance song, that are like nothing he’s done before. It’s worth thinking about what it means for Prince to step into new territory. He has spent years trying to recapture pieces of his old self: the provocateur in black lingerie who got booed as an opening act for the Rolling Stones, the New Wave-inflected keyboard freak of “1999,” the motorcycle-riding rock god who ruled the world after “Purple Rain,” the tortured psychedelic introvert of “Around the World in a Day,” the jazzy genius of “Parade,” the pop polymath of “Sign O the Times,” the deeply divided spiritual pilgrim of “Lovesexy.” These old selves then became albatrosses. His albums of the late nineties and the past decade found Prince making gestures toward those personas without ever really inhabiting them again. And how could he? Here, for the first time, he suggests an alternative: maybe there’s an entirely new Prince music, possibly aided and abetted by Joshua Welton, that harnesses his talents and his vision. Maybe he’s not condemned to auto-pastiche. The closing songs are hard to absorb at first. “Way Back Home” sounds sluggish for a while and then, suddenly, it sounds revelatory. It’s a self-portrait painted in the strangest and most accurate colors imaginable, a melancholy confession and bruised boast in which Prince cops to the fact that he’s out of place, out of sorts, pushed forward at times by desperation but “born alive” in a world where most people are “born dead.” And “Time,” which runs for nearly seven minutes, is a love song, briefly lickerish, that’s mostly about the loneliness of the road. In both cases, Prince brings the tempo way down, focusses on the nuances of his melodies, shares the spotlight with female vocalists, weaves in motifs from earlier songs from the album, and adds a steady supply of surprising touches (such as the superbly funky, if subdued, horn outro to “Time”). The ballads are broken up by “FunkNRoll,” a straightforwardly exciting party song that also appears on “PlectrumElectrum,” but the version here serves the album’s over-all message—it’s knotty, both playful and eerie, with sonar-like sound effects that create a sense of distance and mediation. The closing track, “Affirmation III,” is a haunting reprise of “Way Back Home.” And while it’s abstract (the clipped, angelic backing chorus, which seems to be on loan from Laurie Anderson, is even more prominent), it’s also concrete. For the first time in years, Prince seems not just carnal but corporeal. Way back on “Controversy,” he challenged categories: “Am I black or white? Am I straight or gay?” By the time of “I Would Die 4 U,” the challenge had turned to taunting: “I’m not a woman / I’m not a man / I am something you can never understand,” and then, messianically, “I’m not a human.” Here, he presents himself as something understandable and fully human. In “Breakfast Can Wait,” he pleads with his lover that she can’t “leave a black man in this state.” But that black man is in this state: he’s in his fifties, grappling with loneliness, aging, creative inspiration, self-doubt, a shifting cultural landscape, and love. As luck would have it, he’s also Prince. The greatest live performer of our times was is and always will be Prince.
Remember there is only one destination and that place is U All of it. Everything. Is U. | |
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McD said: It's more consistent than 20Ten (9 dog turds and one classic, Future Soul Song), but overall it's still the sound of an artist well past his prime. The peerless ability is still there, but as a songwriter, ideas-man and creative force, he's pretty much spent. Every second track starting with the first (but omitting the 'affirmations') are OK, but there's really nothing here worthy of even 2004 Prince. Breakdown, possibly the best track on the album, feels like an offcut from New Power Soul, but even that was his worst album by far from that era. Which leaves the tracks in between which I don't like at all. Including the worst moment of his entire career: Breakfast Can Wait. It's not only shit, but probably has the dumbest, most offensive lyrics I've ever heard. Faced with the prospect of not getting the sex he is demanding: 'You can't leave a black man in this state.' Ignoring the potential race issue... what if she does just leave ya like that, P? Coz I'm especially worried about this line: 'cant stop even if the police come'. Sheeee-it, even Ted Bundy called it a night when he heard a siren outside, but you keep going P, coz 'you think she's great'. You can always lawyer-up afterwards. Jesus H. Christ. 2/5 R u saying the lyric suggest rape? Lol...wow. People r crazy. Has PC finally vanished the figure and literal is the only experience. Brains exists....use them. | |
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This critic thinks Prince never made a truly awful record, surely lots of the hyper-critical fans here disagree vehemently.
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. As for "The Gold Standard", now you know lyrics in songs in general aren't what make my ass shake anyway. It's the music behind the lyrics that do that. Hell, as long as the lyrics are actually "sung" rather than sounding like a cross between singing and rapping like most of the rest of the album sounds, I could care less about the lyrics themselves. On "The Gold Standard", the lyrics flow like lyrics of an actual song and are being sung rather than half spoken. And the best part is, they're sung in that unmistakedly "black" and sassy "gay" falsetto that's been his trademark since day one. When I heard this one I said...."Hot damn, this bitch has still got it in him to throwdown absolutely hard! This is the kind of stuff the entire album should be like if he'd stop trying to work the little rough trade boys and go after the grown men instead.". Andy is a four letter word. | |
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2020 said: New York loves it! http://www.newyorker.com/...ince-album A Legitimately Magical Prince Album CREDIT PHOTOGRAPH BY KEVIN MAZUR/WIREIMAGE VIA GETTY In 2010, Prince released an album, called “20Ten,” that ushered in the longest silence of his thirty-five-year career as a recording artist. For most of Prince’s creative existence, he’s put out an album a year, sometimes double and triple sets. After “20Ten,” though, came nothing. Well, nothing by Prince’s standards: plenty of singles trickled out, along with rumors about upcoming projects, but there was no major release. Then, earlier this year, he announced a return to Warner Bros. records, at first for the purpose of assembling a thirtieth-anniversary edition of “Purple Rain,” which would include outtakes and rare demos. This has not yet materialized. What has emerged is his first album of new material since “20Ten,” and the second: this week, Prince resurfaces with “Art Official Age,” a solo album, and “PlectrumElectrum,” a long-delayed collaboration with his all-female backing group, 3rd Eye Girl. “PlectrumElectrum” is easier to understand and easier to dispense with, which doesn’t mean that it’s subpar, exactly. It’s a short rock record with plenty of guitar, and includes meditations on sex, self-empowerment treatises, and energetic songs about energy. The more ambitious songs often spotlight someone other than Prince. Hannah Ford, the band’s drummer, sings the plaintive ballad “Whitecaps,” and “Boy Trouble” is a strange flower of a song with an out-of-left-field speed rap. The so-called solo record, “Art Official Age,” is considerably more interesting. For starters, Prince has dispensed with his typical “Produced, Arranged, Composed, and Performed by Prince” credit, the one on which much of his mystique as a one-man band and all-around genius was founded, and has shared production credit with Joshua Welton, who also happens to be Hannah Ford’s husband. Was this an admission by Prince that he needed another pair of ears? Was he in search of a more contemporary sound? The quasi-title track that opens the album (“Art Official Cage”) seems to suggest so. It’s a strange welter of E.D.M. clichés and Europop, with some gnomic lyrics, some grinding guitar, and some rapping. It’s a mess, provocative but not exactly successful; it sounds like a track that was left off Prince’s 1989 “Batman” soundtrack, updated for 20Fourteen. But the rest of the album is easily Prince’s most coherent and satisfying record in more than a decade. In the past few years, the Prince songs that leaked online seemed to be less about paving the way for a new album and more about trolling the Internet. “Breakfast Can Wait,” a lithe and light funk number, was released with a cover photo of Dave Chappelle as Prince. Only a snippet of “This Could Be Us” leaked, but it was enough to confirm that Prince had written a song about a popular Internet meme that used a picture of him from his “Purple Rain” days. As proper singles started appearing, though, the album came into sharper focus. Songs like “Clouds” and “U Know,” slower and more repetitive than the kaleidoscopic funk-rock we’ve come to expect from Prince, suggested a new direction—a kind of gelatinous, futuristic R. & B. These tracks worked in concert with the other singles to sketch out a theme: that technology separates us from those we’re close to, and even from ourselves; and that the lack of integration may well result in disintegration. “Clouds,” the second track on the album, which opens with the sound of a radio tuning, critiques the way the computer age offloads experiences to distant servers (that’s what the clouds are); the song instead prioritizes romance and human connection (“You should never underestimate the power of a kiss on the neck when she doesn’t expect a kiss on the neck”). It also folds in a well-constructed argument about the way the Internet era has encouraged empty exhibition and a half-baked argument about violence and bullying, before ending with a sci-fi monologue delivered by a British female voice that seems to suggest that Prince has been placed in some sort of centuries-long suspended animation. “Clouds” is a kind of manifesto: “When life’s a stage in this brand new age / How do we engage?” Prince’s answer is to do a version of what he’s always done, which is absorb nearly every kind of music available and, via alchemic wizardry, turn it into something that produces thoughts and emotions. That’s even more evident on “U Know,” which is built on a sample of the singer Mila J’s “Blinded” and alternates wordy half-rapped verses about romantic misunderstanding and spiritual crisis with an irresistibly seductive chorus. The songs seem like R. & B., but they’re statements of deep unrest. Then the album hits a lull, with tracks that declare the power of music rather than demonstrate it, and insist on the superiority of the past. It’s grumpy-old-man music, done with plenty of panache. None of this, though, is sufficient preparation for the homestretch of “Art Official Age,” which is where Prince stops worrying about the future or the past and truly inhabits the present. Beginning with “What It Feels Like,” a duet with the singer Andy Allo, Prince delivers a series of ballads, broken up by interludes and a red-meat dance song, that are like nothing he’s done before. It’s worth thinking about what it means for Prince to step into new territory. He has spent years trying to recapture pieces of his old self: the provocateur in black lingerie who got booed as an opening act for the Rolling Stones, the New Wave-inflected keyboard freak of “1999,” the motorcycle-riding rock god who ruled the world after “Purple Rain,” the tortured psychedelic introvert of “Around the World in a Day,” the jazzy genius of “Parade,” the pop polymath of “Sign O the Times,” the deeply divided spiritual pilgrim of “Lovesexy.” These old selves then became albatrosses. His albums of the late nineties and the past decade found Prince making gestures toward those personas without ever really inhabiting them again. And how could he? Here, for the first time, he suggests an alternative: maybe there’s an entirely new Prince music, possibly aided and abetted by Joshua Welton, that harnesses his talents and his vision. Maybe he’s not condemned to auto-pastiche. The closing songs are hard to absorb at first. “Way Back Home” sounds sluggish for a while and then, suddenly, it sounds revelatory. It’s a self-portrait painted in the strangest and most accurate colors imaginable, a melancholy confession and bruised boast in which Prince cops to the fact that he’s out of place, out of sorts, pushed forward at times by desperation but “born alive” in a world where most people are “born dead.” And “Time,” which runs for nearly seven minutes, is a love song, briefly lickerish, that’s mostly about the loneliness of the road. In both cases, Prince brings the tempo way down, focusses on the nuances of his melodies, shares the spotlight with female vocalists, weaves in motifs from earlier songs from the album, and adds a steady supply of surprising touches (such as the superbly funky, if subdued, horn outro to “Time”). The ballads are broken up by “FunkNRoll,” a straightforwardly exciting party song that also appears on “PlectrumElectrum,” but the version here serves the album’s over-all message—it’s knotty, both playful and eerie, with sonar-like sound effects that create a sense of distance and mediation. The closing track, “Affirmation III,” is a haunting reprise of “Way Back Home.” And while it’s abstract (the clipped, angelic backing chorus, which seems to be on loan from Laurie Anderson, is even more prominent), it’s also concrete. For the first time in years, Prince seems not just carnal but corporeal. Way back on “Controversy,” he challenged categories: “Am I black or white? Am I straight or gay?” By the time of “I Would Die 4 U,” the challenge had turned to taunting: “I’m not a woman / I’m not a man / I am something you can never understand,” and then, messianically, “I’m not a human.” Here, he presents himself as something understandable and fully human. In “Breakfast Can Wait,” he pleads with his lover that she can’t “leave a black man in this state.” But that black man is in this state: he’s in his fifties, grappling with loneliness, aging, creative inspiration, self-doubt, a shifting cultural landscape, and love. As luck would have it, he’s also Prince. What a nice piece of writing! And a wonderful review. |
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Hello one and all. I'm openly admitting I haven't read every post on this thread - so please forgive me if this has already been asked before - but is there anywhere that has details of who is playing what on what track from the album CD? I have the digital downloads. Would sure appreciate help  That's right, you are Divinity | |
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Therapy Therapy? OMG!! | |
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