In certain kinds of boy's music, a touch of repression, of uncool, of uptightness, life not on the edge, can cut its own mysterious groove. Even Dave Brubeck's collegiate jazz had some buzz just because he had the nerve to look (and sound) so square, and punk stages crawled with nerds who, searching for pimple remedies in their chemistry sets, discovered orgasm elixirs. Maybe it's just a version of the surprise element. Or maybe it works like black-and-white film--the fewer distractions in the frame, the more pure pattern starts to look like a goddamn star. Soul Coughing travel this territory: they're bohemians-next-door whose personalities, however intense, play straight... More >>>