Dumb little keyboard part. Guitars that sound like A.M. radio signal. Poorly mic'd drums. Lyrics too wispy and low in the mix to be intelligible. But when it all kicks in together, it is ugly beauty.

This is one of the best songs on a great album by Grandaddy, Under the Western Freeway, a noise and disarray masterpiece. This song epitomizes the concept - everything held together by absolutely undeniable tunesmithing. Some people write such great melody with such insidious rhythm that they can challenge you with intentionally destitute production. They have the audacity to sound haphazard.

If you don't like it, that's fine. Grandaddy broke up long ago anyway. You won't hurt their feelings, but you wouldn't have anyway.