Nodes of Ranvier, I apologize. See, during our phone conversation, vocalist Thomas Hentges told me that he’s tired of reading empty compliments about groups that could stand a little criticism. He didn’t want me to be too nice to his band. In this case, Mr. Hentges will have to take solace in the fact that there was nothing I could do but sing their praises.

Lester Bangs, the greatest rock critic of all time, tells us that there are glints of bedrock joy in life, and it’s the job of rock’n’roll to harness that happiness and bring it all back home. Some people, believe it or not, find those glimpses in They Might Be Giants and Weird Al. Me, I was watching The Datsuns’ concert DVD that came with their new album and I commented to my roommate that nothing compares to the catharsis that comes with live music.

Then I went and saw The Pianist.

Gee whiz, so here’s this cat that plays these sublime Chopin etudes while his friends are being shot in the head or shipped to the, uh, camps. I can’t get rid of that image. It’s beautiful, really; he’s performing in a radio studio when the bombs start falling. He won’t leave, despite the glass shattering around him, until just before his building collapses. What I’m thinking is, buddy, it ain’t no piano I’d be playing. I’d be playing my stereo, and I’d be blaring the new Nodes of Ranvier album. Because I’d be mad, mad, mad. Come get me, you Nazi punks.

The entire Nodes of Ranvier feature by Adam Robinson can be read in the new July/August issue of HM. Subscribe here.