After years of smug punk-ethos and hipstery you-wouldn’t-have-heard-of-thems, I’m trying to be a better poptimist. Cynicism and taste policing stopped being fun a long time ago.
Part of that is embracing the mountains of soft rock filling discarded collections, thrift stores, and $1 bins.
But sometimes, I find records that don’t require me to lower my standards to enjoy them.

As long as I’ve been collecting, I’ve seen Firefall all over the place. So when I stumbled upon it this past weekend, I decided to take a chance on it.
And that gamble is paying off.