Usually a song appears in this space because I have some cause or desire to expound upon it at length. More accurately, I suppose, I have an old, nostalgic story to tell, a dusty nugget from the corners of my shady memory that may provide some amusing insight into my affection for the song or may simply be a bunch of words that people have to scroll past looking for the hyperlink that will take them to the uploaded MP3. I’m guessing it’s usually the latter. Regardless, I don’t really have any stories about Dramarama’s “Last Cigarette.” I know that the band’s name was fun to say on the radio, a pleasurable experience compounded by sharing the name of their 1989 album, Stuck in Wonderamaland. I also have a vague recollection that the song was embraced by our social circle’s smokers, a small but spirited cadre of carcinogen connoisseurs. That’s only natural. Every likes it when they discover a song that’s about one of their hobbies. I thought it was great when Weezer sang about having posters that featured Kitty Pryde and Nightcrawler.

Instead, “Last Cigarette” is simply offered here as a precursor, a teaser if you will, of what’s to come. I greatly enjoyed working through those College Countdown posts this summer, and, in the absence of another CMJ chart to play with, I’ve been looking for a suitable substitute. Last night, while digging through some old papers, I finally found it. So Sunday’s content is once again set, and will be for at least the next forty-five weeks.

I’ll explain more tomorrow.

Dramarama, “Last Cigarette”

(Disclaimer: While the album Stuck in Wonderamaland is available for digital purchase through Amazon and, presumably, other reputable online purveyors of such services, it appears to be totally out of print on CD and other physical formats. It’s with that understanding that I humbly offer it here. While The Quirk Rule tells us that the transfer of funds from the consumer to the artist happens with questionable efficiency under that system, anyone who enjoys the song above should consider purchasing the whole album. Or at least “70’s TV.” That song rules, especially if you even had a crush on Susan Dey. Of course, if anyone with due authority to make such a request contacts me and asks for the file’s removal, I will gladly and promptly comply. One last thing: I’d like to credit the ongoing weekly feature at Popdose where I downloaded the song in the first place, in part because credit is due, but mostly because it’s a ridiculous terrific series.)