In last night’s dream I quoted the above line from Ben Ratliff’s article on why Herbie Hancock’s lamest record won a Grammy for Best Record. I then suggested to someone in the dream that I’d write an article about how the situation was reversed in Chicago-style deep-dish postrock, “like Tortoise,” that the fake “good taste” Ratliff describes is suggested by loud drums, not quiet, in postrock. I think I actually sat down at a computer and started writing the article in the dream. Upon waking, there isn’t even the ghost of an argument there. I have no idea what I was talking about. Loud drums don’t indicate bland, “exquisitely acceptable” music in rock. I think there was an ecstatic Beagle in the dream, too.