I loves me some iPods.

This last weekend, I was on my way to a dance club in a suburb of Chicago. No lie. Those of you who know me know just how funny that is. I was in a minivan, in the back-back seat. That sucked, because when you're in the back-back, nobody can hear you. And when the people in the front are playing "Now That's What I Call Music 16" (no joke) in the front, they can't hear you at all. I pulled out my ipod, figuring if it could go over the drone of a jet engine I might be able to get some music going on in my headphones.

It was too loud. No iPod for me.

Instead, I ended up looking around at a bunch of stuff on the 'pod, aimlessly wishing I could hear it. I went through my list of Mountain Goats songs looking for ones that involve the untimely death of musicians. When all of a sudden, I saw an album called "Things We Lost in the Fire."

I don't own that record.

I threw it on, cranked the headphones as high as I could, and put on the song "Laser Beam," the only one on there that I know well enough to authenticate over the din of Chingy. It was, in fact, Low. That album is one that I have always hoped to hear, to see if it's as good as people make it out to be. And all of a sudden, here it is on my ipod. I have no idea how.

Logic dictates that I went through the trouble to download it and put it on there, but...I really have no recollection of doing it. Which is just funny. The same sort of thing happened to me a few months ago with Julie Dorion, whom I had literally never heard of when she showed up on my iPod. Turns out she's got some good, good songs, too.

It's really nice...almost Christmas-like to find these albums sitting there. I wouldn't be surprised if someone was randomly putting them on the iPod for me. In fact, I'd kind of like that, as long as their taste is that good.