Go ahead and laugh. Is Cap'n Jazz a guilty pleasure? Shit yeah. But heck, what other band could with so much ease summon the buried memories of those innocent years when the only worry you had was how to get 50 cents to buy an ice cream from the guy in the truck jingling "Pop Goes The Weasel" (who was probably a pedophile, but this could NEVER occur to you) with charmingly assonant psychobabble like "Dictioncanary can swear she's barely aware of her apparently paralyzing stares?" They will be called pretentious and other epithets of foulness, but I prefer to quote the band again and say that Cap'n Jazz was "a puppy, a balloon, and a happy accident"!
*This is the second to last in the fun-summer-Song Of The Week series. A week from today, it's back to work for me. I'm also awaiting a new stylus in mail for my turn table, but I still plan on doing some posts, so stay tuned! (I'll have to see what I've got in my CD collection...)