When I hear a song as good as I Can’t Read, I picture an old-timey montage of ‘50s teeny-boppers tuning in their wireless with their jaws dropped and fingers a-snappin’. A more reasonable analogue is seeing the song performed to a packed Tote front bar last Saturday arvo. That feeling of connectivity is a real bloody virtue, and having a corker of a song – and I Can’t Read is a corker on every level, capped off by a singer who can sing – makes it all the more sweeter. My jaw is dropped and my fingers a-snappin’.
Tyrannamen : I Can’t Read
