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πππβ¨πͺ-=*INTRO*=-πͺβ¨πππ
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*πͺ.SOUNDπ₯ππ©CLOUDS.πͺ*
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π§«π₯Όπ§ͺβ¨BEHIND THE MUSICβ¨π§ͺπ₯ΌποΈββοΈ
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π€β οΈπ‘ββοΈπ‘ENSEMBLEπ‘βοΈβππ€
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β¨β‘οΈππ€πPRODUCTIONππ€πβ‘οΈβ¨
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π΄π«πβ¨PERFORMANCEβ¨ππ«π΄
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*β¨π¦πβ¨STORYLINESβ¨ππ¦β¨*
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ππ€·ββοΈπ©ββοΈπ*REVIEWS*π»π¨ββοΈπ€·ββοΈπ
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ππππππ-=*OUTRO*=-ππππππ
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(brian wilson)
(from bootleg album “adult child”)
(from 1977)
(4:4 / 65bpm / F#major + F#minor)
VERSE:
(F#maj7) (F#6) (C#maj7) (C#msus4)
(F#maj7) (F#6) (C#maj7) (C#m7sus4) (Bdim Bmaj7 Bsus2)
(Bbm Bbmsus4 Bbm Bbmsus4 Bbm7sus2)
(D#7) (G#msus4 G#m G#msus2) (Bmaj7)
(F#6 F#sus4) (C#dim) (D#+) (D#7)
(G# G#sus4 G#m) (C#dim C#dim/B C#dim)
(F# F#sus4 F#) (G#m G#msus2 G#m)
(B Bdim B B6) (Gsus2 G Gdim G F#maj7)
(F#6 F#maj7 F#6)
CHORUS:
(F#m F#m7) (B7) (E6 Emaj7 E6 E)
(Em7) (A7) (D6 Dmaj7 D6 D) (G#m7)
last night i told off my final female friend (16-year-old “heather lynn smith”). it seemed appropriate (she was extolling the musical virtues of some accordion-playing comic-con performer and called me a “worthless 30-year-old”).
finally i ran over to “hoagie haven” sometime before midnight (ordering a foot-long cheese-steak with onions and hot peppers over the phone). they all sell the same brand of iced tea ’round these parts (“fuze”). i spent around $9 in all on the meal (plus another $2.50 at the “ivy inn” ATM). at least they didn’t charge me a cover to be admitted!
i was in bed for damn near 12 hours (12 – 12)
first i dreamt of an airplane crash. i made it out alive but found it quite difficult to exit the plane…
then i dreamt of a parking lot (it seemed a hybrid of watchung + long hill). i was playing one of my songs for my former guitar teacher “don rodrigo”. the song (“don juan rodrigo”) was dedicated to him. he merely criticized the chord progression. then i entered my mother’s car (we were headed to some dentist’s appointment?)
then i dreamt of watchung hills. Β there was some sort of academic/political debate being moderated by a “bill maher” type in the auditorium (i’d fallen asleep to a “real time with bill maher” playlist). Β they were discussing mitt romney’s income tax returns. Β most of the panel members appeared decidedly “urban” (with funky hairdos to boot). Β finally some mild-mannered indian man worked up the courage to speak as the host congratulatedly patted him on the back. Β then the group walked to the cafeteria. Β i was walking with jeff bassman as he told me he “wished he got the grades that i did”. Β i tried my best to catch up with brad lubeck (who was walking far ahead of the pack). Β instead, i caught up with danielle naccarato. Β i tried to show her a photo i took of her on my iphone but she was thoroughly disgusted (“have you been drinking bleach?”) Β so i went to the men’s room where some bozo was discussing the recent debate as he pissed into a urinal (“i’m starting to really like romney…”) Β
dean abel entered the bathroom…
upon entering the cafeteria, i noted they were serving hot dogs and melted cheese everywhere (there were even servers delivering plates to individual tables).
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*WIKI-LINK*
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πππβ*SONGS OF ‘THE BEACH BOYS’* β πππ
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πππππ€ππ€ππ€ππ€β€οΈπππ§‘β£οΈπππβ£οΈπ§‘ππβ€οΈπ€ππ€ππ€ππ€ππππ
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*πβ¨ *TABLE OF CONTENTS* β¨π·*
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π₯π₯π₯π₯π₯π₯*we won the war* π₯π₯π₯π₯π₯π₯