Journalism is a profession of many delights.
Unfortunately, my landlord takes a dim view of non-payment, and as much as I'd love to help keep Oregon's glorious heritage free of contamination, I can't live without some of the other perks of the job. In this age of boy-band supremacy, expect to see Bosson's chilly Aryan visage gazing from the bedroom walls of the nation's pubescents soon. Happily, this month's mailbag also yields work by artists who survived childhood without suffering hammer blows to the skull. By the time the mesmerizing, 17-minute last track unspools, you'll almost be on the nod. And you'll like it.