So long, farewell . . .
Owl-eyed (is that hyphenated?) readers will note that it's been a little over a month since the nearly-venerable (pretty sure that's hyphenated) Ian W. wrote anything on here. That's 'cause he's gracefully bowed out of the micro-indie record biz. A few weeks ago he headed out west to engage in the hallowed study of semiotics. Because he "could not make up for distance" (to quote Malkmus) and because he wants to devote his full, undivided attention to Mr. Charles Peirce, et al., it will be necessary for him to completely wash his hands of NBR.
What all this means is that I'm now in the uncomfortable position of having to write stuff in the third person about myself. Maybe this is the right time to finally see about finding a NBR intern.
Anyway, I hope everyone joins me in wishing Mr. Wying a fond adieu and best of luck heading forward. Ian's specifically instructed me to leave you all with one last bit of prose:
Keep buying records, and don't bother Googling me, because "Ian Wying" isn't really my name, suckers.
