I don't remember why at this point, but in 1997 (the year this album came out) I was still obsessing with the death of my father three years before. Little wonder then, that this record spoke to me or that I spent countless hours playing "Out of My Hands" over and over again. With song titles like "Selfish", "Cover up" and "Comfort", this may have been an infectious, pop album to everyone else, but to me it was just another way to dig through my confusion and pain.

Strange, but true.

It's actually an even better album today, and the experience (without the cloud of bitter sadness to accompany and overshadow it) is all the richer for me.

Oh, if only I had a time machine, I'd go back and tell myself not to mope so goddamn much....