This morning, while cleaning up the kitchen, I felt the need for something optimistic and yet doomed, so I told that witch Alexa to serve up I.G.Y. by Donald Fagen. Then another Fagen tune. Then another. Like a lot of the bands I follow where I've played the entire catalog to death, sometimes it is a refreshing break to play solo albums to cleanse the palate. I turn to Fagen's solo discs a lot to scratch that SD itch with songs that aren't completely hard-wired into my brain. The Nightfly remains my favorite but they all have their merits.
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