At only ten songs and barely thirty-three minutes, Mt. St. Helens’ self-proclaimed “magnum opus” values economy over accumulation, a rare and admirable aim amidst far too many bloated track listings. Of Others is an enormous step up from their prior attempts at combining Chicago punk aggression with mid ’90s D.C. complexity, gearing more toward the latter without losing the bite of the former. I usually call out bands for the hubris of tags like magnum opus, but I’ll be damned if Mt. St. Helens didn’t shame their past work on Of Others.

The band’s improved across the board. The balance between dynamic, mid-tempo tracks (“The Time of Low Volume,” “Seething Is Believing”) and muscular rockers (“City Of” and “Massive Dosage”) is spot-on, giving Of Others more range and than its predecessors. Quinn Goodwillie’s vocals no longer relapse into yelping/bellowing after finding a solid melody, suggesting that his work in the poppier Sleep Out has bled over. Ben Geier’s drumming trades flash for purpose, earning the long-awaited improvement in drum production. The guitar lines are tighter, complementing rather than crowding each other. Even the slight missteps are forgivable: the devil-horn evocation of “Centicorn” doesn’t fit into the album’s nervous energy, but at only a minute long, the ode to a hundred-horned unicorn is an intriguing departure before the closing slow burn of “Interruption.”

Of Others will be officially released on August 31 on Two Thumbs Down Records, the band’s new home after Divot closed shop. No word on a national tour or a vinyl pressing, but those in the Chicago-land area should hit up the record release show at the Beat Kitchen.

I hadn't heard of Prints, but seeing Temporary Residence in the leak title made me curious. Sure enough, it's another Howard Hello / Pinback / Tarentel offshoot from Kenseth Thibideau, focusing on the layered pop that made Howard Hello's "More of the Same" such a great song. While "Easy Magic" takes the cue of that song's wordless vocals, it also incorporates real lyrics, or close approximations thereof. There's a verse, but most of the song revolves around the lines "Is it magic? If it's easy / If it's easy," which seem ridiculous taken out of context. Trust me. It works.

Temporary Residence doesn't hold back any names in the press release—"Merging the eclectic instrumentation of Talking Heads with the ethereal vocals of Peter Gabriel, the two mingle the precision of Brian Eno and the jubilance of Brian Wilson"—but I'd make a closer comparison to the poppier moments on Jim O'Rourke's Eureka.

In lieu of my monstrous “I’m back from Europe and lord am I behind on my iPod Chicanery” update, here are my thoughts on some recent music.

Feedle - Leave Now for Adventure: A former member of 65daysofstatic provides this solid album as evidence of what his former mates’ newest album is missing: nostalgia mixed in between fuzzed-out electronic loops and thumping beats. It’s not quite the long-awaited sequel to Accelera Deck’s Narcotic Beats, but it’s certainly held up well to a near continuous stay on my laptop for the last week and a half. Start with “Go Home Revolving,” “Man vs. the Hallucinations,” “Song for Dogs,” and “The Way Things Turned Out” and it’s not long before the rest of the album falls in line.

Minus the Bear - Planet of Ice: Sounding like early ’80s Yes and Genesis now counts as creative development, since the vaguely progressive half of Planet of Ice is more intriguing than the echoes of Menos el Oso’s serious party music. I’ll take “Knights,” “Dr. L’ling,” “When We Escape,” and “Lotus” and imagine some sleight of hand that would bridge the enormous gap between Jake Snider’s lyrical inspiration (“Here’s my progressive rock concept album!”) and execution (“So there’s this chick…”).

Lights Out Asia - Tanks and Recognizers: This album is quite a departure from the balance of power between electronica and post-rock displayed on their debut Garmonia. The mix is fuller and more instrumentally varied, but at times—the lunging “Four Square” in particular—Lights Out Asia sound more like Aurore Rien and less like Garmonia’s compelling mix of electronica and Talk Talk–esque vocals. Not feeling it yet.

Lindsay Anderson - If: One half of my beloved L’altra finally has a solo album to supplement the live set from 2005 that I downloaded from eMusic. I’m only one listen in, but it hasn’t quite grabbed me in the same way as Different Days, and not for lack of trying. Most of these songs are fleshed-out, full-band editions with the unfortunate tendency of overwhelming the headliner’s voice. Here’s hoping that If is a grower.

Smashing Pumpkins - Zeitgeist: I made it through almost half of this album, which I felt was some kind of accomplishment given the ear-splitting vocal mix. The sledgehammer combination of the ultra-compressed riffs and Jimmy Chamberlain’s drumming occasionally hits the spot, but more often it just makes me long for spacious mix of Siamese Dream. Oh, “Soma.” At the very least, I can finally agree with my best friend from eighth grade, who insisted that Billy Corgan’s voice cripples the band.

Interpol - Our Love to Admire: The amazing thing about the initial hype about Interpol was that it wasn’t just centered on Turn on the Bright Lights, but salivated equally over their potential as a band. I don’t think there’s much talk of that nowadays. “Pioneer to the Falls” begins the album with a delayed guitar lead that sounds like it’s been Xeroxed twice already, and aside from more Paul Banks lyrical buffoonery, the record holds few surprises and little of my interest.

I approached Marnie Stern's In Advance of the Broken Arm cautiously. It's not the talk of her Steve Vai-meets-Don Caballero shredding that demands such trepidation, but rather the other side of her influences: Sleater Kinney, Deerhoof, and Hella are bands I can listen to in small doses, if at all. "Vibrational Match," the first track on her debut CD, didn't help this wary approach. Stern couples her frenzied fretboard calisthenics with similar high-octave vocal line, swarming like a Van Halen-informed riot grrl. Interesting, but a whole album of it? Pass me the Tylenol.

Just when I thought I'd put Stern on the needlessly over-hyped list, "Every Single Line Means Something" came on. Perhaps its status as the record's lead single should have informed me of its crossover potential, but "Every Single Line" addresses all of my qualms over "Vibrational Match." Stern's voice is less shrill, relaxing into a multi-tracked coo during the breakdown, and doesn't have to fight for high-octave space with the guitars, which follow less frantic lower-octave figures. The chorus trades the cheerleader chant of "Vibrational" for genuine hooks. The complexity of the instrumentation doesn't overwhelm, but instead allows you to pick up on the tricky stuff going on underneath the more rhythmic guitar line. Zach Hill's drumming doesn't fight the momentum of the song, either. "Every Single Line" pulls a great song out of an intriguing, sometimes infuriating aesthetic.

Elsewhere, the titular shenanigans of "Put All Your Eggs in One Basket and Then Watch That Basket!" proves that the Don Caballero influence isn't limited to finger-tapped leads, but the song certainly has those in spades, as well. What that song and a scant few others ("Patterns of a Diamond Ceiling") benefit from is a tempting calm, however fleeting, amid Stern's signature flurry of activity.

My initial hesitation about Marnie Stern was largely accurate, since In Advance of the Broken Arm spazzes out a bit too much for my liking, but finding a solid EP's worth of material that either pulls off the hyperactive shredding with style or calms down enough to provide space and tension is a pleasant surprise. I doubt she'll calm down too much, since she has to justify playing this guitar, but I'm optimistic about her live performances and her next album.

I almost managed to write a summary before the first 100 tracks elapsed, but sitting down for forty minutes is a far more difficult task than I initially imagined. I, gulp, made it to 103 before I found some free time.

General Sentiment: I was rather astonished by how downright friendly the first ninety tracks were. Late in the loading process I found myself dropping a few tracks from semi-forbidden records, i.e. indie rock standbys and last round favorites, and it's astonishing just how many of these particular songs came up. The only Lefty's Deceiver song, one of three Stella Link songs, one of two Sixto songs, the only Clark song, one of two Castor songs, one of a scant few Faith No More songs, one of two Faraquet songs ("Call It Sane," of course)... I'm sure there are more than I'm forgetting. I had anticipated a much more challenging barrage to start the second round, but this array of familiar tracks was actually a bit disappointing.

Worst Transitions: This nomination is remarkably easy: anytime a section from Steve Reich's Music for 18 Musicians came up. First, the decision to opt for the many-tracked approach as opposed to the unwieldy 56-minute-long version ignored the fact that virtually none of these sections employ fade-ins or fade-outs. Second, sandwiching minimalist classical between Ghostface Killah and Killing Joke, between the Dirty Three and the Stella Link, or between Dinosaur Jr and Ween may seem interesting, but one one of those transitions (the lead-in to the Stella Link) wasn't jarring. It's absolutely nothing against the Reich piece itself, which I've enjoyed on every occasion, but I just don't see this problem getting any better.

Worst Timing: I rarely take the T, but Brian Eno's "Zawinul" managed to come on during one of those rare trips on the red line. No matter how much I turned up the volume, I could only hear a faint echo of what I imagined is very well crafted ambient music. Straining to hear ambient music seems antithetical to me.

Best Timing: Though Cat Power's cover of Smog's "Red Apples" may have been more fitting for a particularly gray Boston afternoon, my walk around downtown was significantly more fun when the Stooges' "Search and Destroy" came on. I wished that I had rollerblades with me at the time (yes, skateboarding would hold more cachet, but rollerblading is what I'm good at) so I could skate around City Hall plaza.

Song Someone Else Enjoyed: I'm somewhat surprised that anyone could hear the music with six people crammed into the Corolla for a drive from Fenway to Inman Square, but my wife managed to pick out Shannon Wright's "You Baffle Me" from the forthcoming Let in the Light LP from the din of complaint. It's not too surprising that this Shannon Wright record has more crossover appeal than her last official album, Over the Sun from 2004, since that record's dark and violent swings from June of 44-esque guitar rock to claustrophobic piano ballads are understandably difficult to digest. If Let in the Light is Wright's attempt to move away from the dramatic scope of her last few records (a process started with her collaboration with Yann Tiersen), it appears to be a success.

Most Trying Moment: Dinosaur Jr's "Poledo" came on during a drive home, which I didn't mind at first, but when I had to start my next trip in the midst of lo-fi radio buzz, I really wanted Mascis to come in and start shredding the hell out of Barlow's seemingly aimless noise. Definitely a track that makes somewhat more sense in the context of the record, but not one that I'm likely to pick out.

Most Rewarding Stretch: As I mentioned, most of the first run was unexpectedly familiar (barring a few notable exceptions, particularly GZA's "Liquid Swords"), but in the last ten to fifteen tracks I've gotten some definite standouts. Dr. Dooom's "Leave Me Alone" bodes well for the rest of First Come First Served with traditionally strong verses, some excellent non-sequiturs (motorcycle helmet?), and a curiously insistent chorus. David Bowie's excellent "Be Me Wife" justified the inclusion of two of his late '70s albums. Bobby Hutcherson's "West 22nd Street Theme" utilizes an interesting rotation of the instruments' importance to the mix and a strong melodic thread. Finally, Edsel's "Fortune of Space" had a surprising horn part, a great chorus, and a well-crafted outro, all of which helped temper hearing a few of Edsel's stock transitional tracks earlier in the round. A solid run both in terms of individual songs and aesthetic variety.

I caught this show courtesy of Bradley’s Almanac, a far more user-friendly website than this one (lists upcoming Boston shows, posts audio bootlegs of shows, and gives away tickets and CDs). Aereogramme was initially the headliner for the show, which piqued my interest, so I checked out the other two bands to see how early I’d like to go. But by the time the ticket giveaway started, Aereogramme’s visa problem had forced them to delay their visit to Boston until the end of April. I liked what I had heard of A Northern Chorus and The Twilight Sad, so I was glad to move the show from game-time decision to no-risk night out with my random drawing.

I find it hard to think of adjectives that aren’t variations of “nice” or “pleasant” for A Northern Chorus’s opening set, which is unfortunate because I remembered enjoying every song they played. The Canadian six piece coupled violin and cello with frequently effects-laden guitars, but most of the set limited the crescendos in favor of tasteful introspective indie rock, reminding me of a more up-tempo incarnation of early Very Secretary. I hesitate on using “nice” or “pleasant” since those are effectively synonyms for “bland” or “inoffensive,” but ANC’s songs are well crafted enough to hold my attention. Can’t say I’ll go out of my way to see them headline a show, but I’ll gladly watch them open for a band I like, perhaps even when they open for Aereogramme’s make-up performance at the end of April.

Immediately after their set I chatted with Brad of Bradley’s Almanac, who was successful in determining my identity through a lone tidbit; “Guy with Pentax SLR” is apparently specific enough. I somehow managed to get on the topic of Juno—it doesn’t take much—and learned that he’s a fan, so any affections I have for his site should be doubled now. Ironically, talking to Brad distracted me from my lone between-set task of picking up a free Northern Chorus CD from the merch table. Oops.

The Twilight Sad had an air of future stardom, a claim I rarely make and a status I have almost no interest in predicting. (This show was a week before Pitchfork ranked them in the Best New Music category.) I credit the stage presence and vocals of James Graham for much of this air, since his vague disinterest and occasional menace were surprisingly captivating and his vocals ring out clear, even when yelled a bit. The band has a few great songs already—“And She Would Darken the Memory” and “Walking for Two Hours”—and those came across quite well in the live setting, giving Graham a chance for minor histrionics and secondary percussion duties. It’s hard for me not to think of them as the shoegazer version of Idlewild, which is an admittedly lazy comparison based primarily on the shared Scottish accent, but the Twilight Sad have a similarly anthemic quality. The band needs a second guitarist/keyboard player/accordion player, however, in order to fully replicate the depth of sound on their recordings. They certainly were loud enough, but the bass player’s tone was horrible for most the set and the guitarist wandered through lazy arpeggios during a few songs’ verses. Hell, they may not even need to worry about that, since I have the sense that, in true Idlewild fashion, the aesthetic will soon take a backseat to the songwriting and vocal charisma. I’ll pick up Fourteen Autumns and Fifteen Winters when it’s available on vinyl, but their second record should be pivotal in terms of the band’s development. Keep an eye on them in any case.

I did take some pictures of both bands, although the set for A Northern Chorus turned out considerably better than the set for The Twilight Sad. I tried setting the white balance to the Middle East Upstairs’ lighting conditions, which worked out far better than I expected, but I personally prefer the cast of a certain color from the house lights.

I’m actually somewhat surprised that Tuesday’s show was the first time I’d seen Do Make Say Think, considering how loaded the upper echelon of my top 40 of the 2000s is with their recent work. I can only remember missing one particular show at the Empty Bottle in Chicago because of the timing, so maybe their touring schedule just isn’t up to snuff. I blame them, really.

I’d heard good things about the Berg Sans Nipple, the lone opener for the tour, so getting to the Middle East almost two hours after doors opened only to find that they hadn’t even started yet was a bit of a relief. Two guys with a ton of equipment played a hodge-podge of dream pop, post-rock, and IDM. Certain aspects of their sound reminded me of the headliners, but for the most part the layered keyboards, looped vocals, and primarily live drums struck an interesting path outside of strict genre boundary lines. I picked up the 2LP of their 2007 release Along the Quai (which contains two bonus songs not included on the CD), which seems more appropriate for background listening given the band’s overall emphasis on aesthetics over songwriting (barring “Mystic Song”), but hey, that’s why I bought it.

Do Make Say Think took the stage, starting with “Outer, Inner & Secret” from Winter Hymn Country Hymn Secret Hymn, and the band’s numerous members slowly filtered into the mix. It’s hard to nail most members down to a particular instrument, but for most songs they had two drummers, a bassist, two guitarist, a violinist, and two horn players, the violinist being the only major surprise. Picking out the specific parts became more difficult as the first song swirled into a nearly cacophonous crescendo. I’ve never really considered DMST as a crescendo-oriented post-rock band, but live the swells of sound became more apparent.

The Middle East downstairs was packed for the show, which unfortunately involved people going absolutely bananas and screaming during every false ending or quiet part. It’s baffling to me that the Isis crowd suffered from far less of this over-exuberance, but the DMST crowd never let up. Quiet break in “Reitschule”? Let’s scream! The show upstairs is enough of a distraction, don’t add to it.

They played material from the last four records, including the vocal track “A With Living” from You, You’re a History in Rust. I’ve been on the fence about the new record, enjoying this song and a few others but never really getting into the record as a whole, and I don’t know if this concert changed anything. Part of me hopes that “A With Living” is the band’s only song with full vocals, since it’s effective enough without being overbearing, but I have a feeling that it may mark a sea change in their approach. The main fear I have about the vocals is that they’ll end up being a progressive version of Broken Social Scene. The highlights, if memory serves, were “Reitschule,” “Fredericia,” “When the Day Chokes the Night,” “The Landlord Is Dead,” and “Horns of a Rabbit.” One of the nice things about seeing such a remarkably consistent band is that I wasn’t worried about the specifics of the set list outside of a few personal favorites. Closing the show with “Horns of a Rabbit” and “The Universe,” their two most direct rockers, was a nice move.

It may be appropriate that I was pleased, rather than blown away with Do Make Say Think’s performance. There was some time between hearing “If I Only…” from their self-titled debut and finally getting their second album, Goodbye Enemy Airship the Landlord Is Dead, and even more time before that record hit me fully.

Since All That to the Wall, the upcoming full-length album from the Narrator, leaked last week, I’ve found it difficult to listen to any of the other big name albums that also found their way into advance digital formats (namely Pelican, Modest Mouse, Caspian, Bill Callahan, Shannon Wright, and The Sea and Cake). Whereas its predecessor, 2005’s Such Triumph, forced its songs to emerge out of a messy, snotty aesthetic, All That to the Wall unsurprisingly cuts most of this fat. Sorry “Crapdragon” and “Roughhousing” devotees; this album steadfastly avoids feedback fests in favor of chiming guitar hooks and sturdier song structures. Such Triumph benefited from its riotous energy and vaguely threatening cacophonies, but All That to the Wall makes far more sense veering toward maturity (a mid-tempo break in the middle covers both “Panic at Puppy Beach” and a cover of Bob Dylan’s nearly forgotten “All the Tired Horses) than holding on to raging youth too long.

“Son of the Son of the Kiss of Death” opens the record with a canned drumbeat and a newfound precision, leaving the messy lines for the throat-searing vocals. Along with the clear single “SurfJew” and the surging “Breaking the Turtle” (“And this is a song for / All the Nascar generation / The more they sit there / They’re just gaining momentum”), “Son of the…” seems noticeably better than many of its neighbors on the first listen (much like how “This Party’s Over” and “Ergot Blues” initially stood above Such Triumph), but after further inspection, the gap between these songs and the “album tracks,” if that term is still viable, decreases noticeably. “Chocolate Windchimes” wears its closing introspection far better than the down-tempo moments on the last album. “All the Tired Horses” makes perfect sense for a melancholic end to the first side of the album, provided that it’s pressed to vinyl. “Papal Airways” dusts off the enthusiastic background vocals and handclaps of “This Party’s Over.” Considering how All That to the Wall is the product of two fill-in drummers (from Russian Circles and the Oxford Collapse), it’s astonishingly coherent.

Pencil this one in for my top ten of 2007.

In related news, I saw Chin Up Chin Up at Great Scott on Sunday night. (Flameshovel Records guy and the Narrator singer/guitarist Jesse Woghin moonlights as CUCU’s bassist.) The crowd looked like a Charlie Brown Indie Rock Special, bouncing around like popcorn kernels to the more energetic moments of the band’s two full-lengths. It struck me how much clearer the chorus hooks came out live, particularly on the title track to We Should Have Never Lived… and “Virginia Don’t Drown.” After their set I talked to Jesse for a while, finding out that the Narrator should tour later in the spring (April or May), may press All That to the Wall on vinyl (I “pre-ordered” a hypothetical copy), and have a new drummer. You, too, should go see CUCU on their tour and put your name down for a vinyl copy of All That to the Wall.

I feel like I should have a notebook with me in the car so I can jot down notes on songs as I commute back and forth, since that would make the process of remembering a week or two of listening significantly easier. I’ve now listened to 412 of 1162 tracks, leaving me more than a third of the way through the project/ordeal. I would be much further along if I counted the times when I’ve left the iPod running in the car for a few hours, but I wouldn’t have much to report on with those runs.

Damning Double Shot: I’ve been particularly wary of songs from Accelera Deck’s Pop Polling after sitting through “As Always” on a drive home, but I was actually excited when “Ferric,” perhaps the best song from the record, came on during a morning commute. This excitement did not last, however, as “Lips,” one of the other two dreaded tracks from the LP, immediately followed it. Whereas “Ferric” mixes pointillist guitar pinpricks and compelling swells of fuzz, “Lips” wavers in and out of its largely aimless guitar feedback, waiting until the eighth of twelve minutes to gain even the slightest shape. Worse still: “Sunskull” and its blaring feedback assault still wait for me.

A Friendly Reminder: I never fell in love with The Moon and Antarctica and only liked half of Good News for People Who Like Bad News, but hearing “Doin’ the Cockroach” from Modest Mouse’s Lonesome Crowded West was a nice punch to the jaw. It’s hard to reconcile the rougher edges of this era of the band with the fact that Johnny Marr of the Smiths is now their guitar player, but I definitely prefer the looser, unhinged version of the band. Right after this song ended I had to fight a serious impulse to put on “Trucker’s Atlas” or “Cowboy Dan.”

Please Not Again: I picked a handful of the mid-80s R.E.M. LPs last year and played at least a side of Murmur a few times, especially enjoying “Pilgrimage.” I don’t know if I’d lose my focus by the end of side B, but hearing “We Walk” on a drive into campus one morning was brutal. I just can’t listen to certain songs—Enon’s “Get the Letter Out” immediately comes to mind—that have such dominant sing-song hooks without fearing a parasitic invasion of my memory. R.E.M.’s “We Walk” is now on that list.

Theory Jam: We read “What Is an Author?” in my Foucault seminar and the professor brought up the topic of mash-ups with regard to how recent shifts in technology have changed the notion of a static author in contemporary music. I remember bringing up how the democratization of the production of music via the dismantling of the label system could ultimately limit the budgets of artists and thereby change the conditions for cultural production, but after class ended I kept thinking about how different periods in the ’90s—the lo-fi revolution, the full exploration of the DJ, and the rise of electronica—affected notions of the author far more than the more recent mash-up trend. DJ Shadow’s “High Noon” is a particularly interesting case study, because it follows a more typical rock build-up and the synthesis of the various parts could be considered a makeshift band in a postmodern sense. (It’s impossible not to mention how well Juno brought the “actual band” aspect of the song to life on their cover of the song.) I’ve never been fond of mash-ups and “High Noon” illustrates why; whereas DJ Shadow extracts disparate pieces of music and combines them under a new structure and new aims, mash-ups only merge two existing aims, typically maintaining the structure of at least one of the songs. There’s no question as to whether DJ Shadow is truly the author of “High Noon,” whereas I’ve never felt comfortable calling any person concocting a mash-up much more than a remixer.

Realization: Kool Keith is my favorite MC, but after hearing a handful of tracks from Black Elvis/Lost in Space, it’s impossible not to note how weak his choruses are. He excels in verses, but almost every chorus from that record is a tremendous let-down, with the notable exception of “I Don’t Play” (which hasn’t come up during the shuffle). “Keith Turbo,” “I’m Seeing Robots,” and “The Girls Don’t Like the Job” would all be notably improved if the choruses were instrumental.

Best Timing: After listening to most of Slint’s “Washer” to start an early morning commute (it’s strange hearing anything from Spiderland in bright day time, especially “Washer” and “Don, Aman”), I need a boost and Mock Orange’s “Birds” was the best conceivable option. Still the most played song on my Last.FM account, “Birds” manages to be upbeat and enthusiastic without approaching being cheesy or grating, a rare accomplishment in my collection. It highlighted most of my commutes last semester, so I couldn’t imagine much better timing for the song.

Poor Record Choice: I put on Tortoise’s self-titled debut instead of my favorite release of theirs, Millions Now Living Will Never Die, thinking that I might finally appreciate it on the same level. No, not this time. Too many of the songs from Tortoise linger on their quiet beginnings for too long and leave the eventual groove before its logical time is up. I’m not giving up on the album, but it may need the confines of my living room to truly excel.

Best Transition: I actually saw this one coming when I looked back on the recently played tracks to write the above paragraphs, but hearing Juno’s “The Young Influentials” dissolve into Pinebender’s “There’s a Bag of Weights in the Back of My Car” improved my ride back from a Friday night get-together. Whereas Juno opted to follow up the emotional crest of “Young Influentials” with the bile-spewing “All Your Friends Are Comedians” on This Is the Way It Goes and Goes and Goes, the quiet introspection of Pinebender’s glacial epic made for a smoother transition.

Errors' How Clean Is Your Acid House? EP hit the top ten of my Best of 2006 and I'm thrilled to report that their new single, "Salut! France," may very well surpass that release. Here's the video for the single, which sadly (like its predecessors) lacks a US release date. While you're at it, watch the videos for "Hans Herman," "Terror Tricks," and "Mr. Milk." You may want to just listen to "Mr. Milk" if you want your eyes to work properly in the future. "Salut! France" is the only thing keeping me awake right now, so I hope YouTube doesn't break in the next two hours.