the gospel. week one. oona's tore my heart.

I decided that popular music is pretty terrible.

Of course, everyone thinks that they listen to good music. Some people, like me, actually DO listen to really awesome music. Most people do not. I completely agree that to each it's own, but shit, pop music makes me want to reach into T-Pain's throat and physically remove that effing distorter out with my right hand.

I couldn't be move removed from the phenomenon of pop. Contemporary pop, that is. I feel sure that about a billion people saw Jamie Foxx on the Grammies and thought it was the greatest thing that they had ever seen. EVER. While browsing through the Billboard Top 20, I discovered that I have heard all of TWO songs. When did I turn eighty-seven?

My mother is planning to see The Black Eyed Peas in concert. I haven't listened to the Black Eyes Peas since their first album with Fergie. My mother is going to see a band that I fondly remember Brandon blasting and dancing around to while I was puking my liver into our bathroom toilet in Asheville. All after walking home from a bar where we had spent the past nine hours drinking Coronas and arguing with a recovering alcoholic. No, this wasn't yesterday. It was before children. Before mortgage. Before My Humps.

Since my taste in music is genuinely awesome and, let's face it, probably much better than yours, I am going to give you a new song every Sunday. Music is as close to religion as I get and perhaps I might even save a few souls.

This week, Oona and Dave Tweedie's Tore My Heart.

Meet your new favorite song, people.




I first heard Tore My Heart on this past season of So You This You Can Dance. After picking the pieces of my brain off of the ceiling, I ran to the computer to watch it again. And again. Then I had unprotected sex with it and didn't make it pull out. Because it's that hot.