Music.

An eclectic shuffle that respects no genre, and apologizes for none of it.

Fountains of Wayne bumping straight into Ice Cube, a deep bench of Nashville country for days out on the lake, and the blues saved for a campfire: the fire burning low, the stars doing the rest. Grunge still turned up loud in the garage, and dancing with Heather in the kitchen when dinner runs late. There's a soundtrack for nearly every room and every mood, and I'm forever cueing up the next one.

I'm not precious about genre: loud and honest beats clever and cold every time. What stays in rotation says a lot about how the week is going. Here's what's mostly on.