on the record: the biggest sap on the planet

good, happy pop music can make me cry actual tears of joy.

i'm re-reading that sentence and it makes even me cringe. but it's true. one of my favorite ways to spend an evening is a gay boy record party: when a good friend is over and you play songs for them that you really, really love that they probably don't know and you both laugh and sing and listen and discover. (and p.s. you don't have to be a gay boy to do it.)

if you could all fit into my apartment right now, we'd put a tombstone pizza in the oven, pour a big glass of grandpa graf's 50/50, and listen to that lucky old sun by brian wilson. it's chock full of nostalgia, and harmonies, and silliness, and happiness. and california.

it's really – and unabashedly so – the new beach boys album. for me, as great as wilson's resurrected smile was in 2004, lucky old sun is even better. it's more cohesive, more fun.

how can you not love:

the sun burns a hole through the 6 a.m. haze
turns up the volume and shows off it's rays
another dodger blue sky is crowning l.a.
the city of angels is blessed every day

that lucky old sun smiles on me
wanna slide down the mountain
into the dancing sea

i've only listened to it a few times now, but i think i'm already more tan, more relaxed, and way, way more happy.