Is Wild Flag going to make Mary Timony famous [again]? Will she remember the time she slept over at my house in Montreal and we went out for breakfast the next day, and she was so shy I was powerless against it? I was no match for it. There were birds chirping on my balcony in the morning and I had a moment of stabbing narcissistic joy (the best kind?) where I thought my ramshackle apartment and its pigeon nest might become weird Timony lyrical imagery. But now she’s in the kind of band that doesn’t seem to traffic in medieval birds or whatever, and all I want is for them to come east.