I am not comfortable having Mark Mallman living in the same city as me. It's kind of like living next door to Nietzsche or the Marquis de Sade - geniuses should be kept at a distance where you can't accidentally bump into them at clubs or coffeeshops or the grocery store. It's extremely intimidating to know someone that writes like this is a real person and not some team of propaganda specialists living in an underground bunker at the North Pole.

From what I can tell, Mallman just sort of popped up out of nowhere onto the Minneapolis scene and is already commanding a following of devoted disciples. I personally can't get this disc out of my head-and this is saying something, considering that I listen to 10-15 CDs a day and not a whole lot of it sticks with me anywhere. Any time there's silence in my office, the songs on this pop into my head and fill the space - it's eerie, and is probably going to get pretty irritating if it keeps up for too much longer, but for now I don't mind humming these songs as I cook, clean house, or take my son to the park. I'm sure everyone else thinks I'm a total loony-tune, but I'm getting pretty good at not noticing people staring at me funny anymore.

So what kind of music is on "The Tourist?" Queen meets Roy Orbison meets Bauhaus could be one interpretation - Momus on a suicide kick is another. Okay, so the songs are a little depressing, but in an extremely self-indulgent sort of way-and the lyrics are just plain brilliant. "Becoming a President" is full of references to prayer and alcoholism, while "To Speak of the Animal" is just pure raw carnivorous sexual imagery and tension (why, yes, I do spend too much time by myself, thank you). If the whole fucking world (old people and babies excluded) doesn't know about Mallman within the next ten years, then I will pay everyone reading this a dollar.