Confession time:
I cannot stand having makeup or any form of goop applied to my face. It’s one of my odd sensory tics and got me into loads of trouble when I was a young tyke and would scream and hide behind the plaid orange sofa when my artist mom wanted to apply the finishing touches to whatever elaborate Halloween costume she’d crafted for me that year.
It’s why I’m wearing an expression of abject shellshocked misery in every Halloween photo taken of me prior to 1979.
More than my usual resting hangdog face, I mean.
Recommended listening: From Boingo’s “best” album, in the sense that Trouser Press merely damned it with faint praise instead of calling for the public execution of the parties involved. Still, nothing compared to the blazing mad-ons they harbored towards INXS and Robert Palmer.
New York hipsters, man.
October 2nd, 2026 - 1:05 pm
As a HUGE Boingo fan, the first think I looked at when I got my Trouser Press guide was the listing for the band. Imagine my shock to discover that they were not as beloved as I would have imagined.