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Thom Dunn is a Boston-based writer, musician, and utterly terrible dancer. He is the singer/guitarist for the indie rock/power-pop the Roland High Life, as well as a staff writer for the New York Times’ Wirecutter and a regular contributor at BoingBoing.net. Thom enjoys Oxford commas, metaphysics, and romantic clichés (especially when they involve whiskey), and he firmly believes that Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" is the single greatest atrocity committed against mankind. He is a graduate of Clarion Writer's Workshop at UCSD ('13) & Emerson College ('08).

New Album Preview! Hooray!

I've been putting this off for far too long, but I'm finally making headway on a new full-length solo album of songs I've been working on, tentatively titled "Five Years on the B-Side." If all goes well, it'll be out sometime in the early spring, and I might even do a few live shows around the Northeast to support it!

In the meantime, here are a few rough draft demos to give you an idea of what to expect. (just, ya know, keep in mind that they're sketches of the final arrangements, to help me figure out production things myself, which is why they're kinda messy and why they'll also disappear when recording is complete)

Happy 20th Birthday, Buffy! Here's a new birthday song:

Here's a little tune I wrote about that really unhealthy relationship you had with that vampire guy:

Pretentious Poetic Firefly References

Not much time to write for FiveByFiveHundred.com today, as we had a big fancy Open House at the Huntington (stupid having to work on holidays* grrrrr). So instead, I've re-posted a poem that I wrote about 4 years ago or so, about romance, assholes, and Firefly. Because really, what else is there to talk about?

 

"Mal Means Bad (in the Latin)" on Five By Five Hundred

*All personal moral dilemma with Columbus Day aside.

High Infidelity

In doing research for an article I'm working on for Quirk Books, I pulled out my personal copy of High Fidelity (the novel) by Nick Horny. And what do I find inside?

Handwritten song lyrics. Except, it's not my handwriting. And I'm pretty sure I've never lent this book out to anyone to borrow. Eerie, right? And yet, kind of poetic.

So obviously, I laid claim to it (despite the fact that it's, erm, not very good), and turned into a found poem for Five By Five Hundred (which also worked out well because it's been a busy few days, between taking my poor chinchilla to the hospital with a broken arm, and sitting on the "Tweet This?" panel for Arts In America).

"Sonic Death Monkey" at FiveByFiveHundred.com