Confession

While getting ready for work this morning, I was totally rocking out to Better than Ezra, who was playing live on DC101 to pimp their new CD and show at the 9:30 club tonight. I was bopping around, shaking my ass and overall scaring the hell out of my cat.

I used to really like Better than Ezra's music. Their salad days coincided with my undergrad years at UCLA. I would hole up in the North Campus eatery between classes with a 32-ounce cup of the blackest, most vile coffee known to man and copy over my notes while idling listening to the jukebox, which seemed to have Better than Ezra on constant replay. Good times. Dorky ones, but good nonetheless.

Does it help my indie cred that I'm going to see Le Tigre at the 9:30 club Sunday night? No, didn't think so. Once a square, always a square.