We’re done with Tony Bennett and Andy Williams and that Sinatra fellow at my house. After hearing Remy tear through “Sleigh Ride,” everything else is just white noise.
Folks, Boston is the music and baseball hub of the universe; why the hell hasn’t some enterprising producer locked Remy and Gammons and Youk and Papelbon and Beckett and Joe Perry in a South End recording studio with twelve bottles of Nighttrain so we can get a full iPod’s worth of this shyte every season?
HT to Sawxheads, Fenway West.
