Yeah! The home stretch is here and tantalizing all of us. What’s most tantalizing is the old retrospective tactic that plagues many columnists. I am no different.

First to be addressed is one of the more popular questions directed at me: Why don’t you review someone I’ve heard of?

Well, first off, I think that would completely defeat the purpose to review an album that people are, without a doubt, going to buy anyway. For example: Smashing Pumpkins.

Aside from the fact that Virgin records is hard to get material from unless it’s a sampler tape (which is like egg nog without the nog) or unless your name is Rolling Stone or Spin.

Second, even some stuff that the general public hasn’t heard of is still hard to get because they’re affiliated with one of those “super cool indie” labels that has that notorious “buzz” and mildly concentrates on the target audience unless your name is Rolling Stone or Spin.

Third, it’s usually better to be surprised and get a little educated.

A large percentage of the albums I review I haven’t heard until I pop the disk in the player. It’s like Forrest Gump said: “OW! Something BIT me!” You thought I was gonna cram the “boxa choc’lates” line in there, didn’t you?

The next thing is inspired by A Christmas Carol, where we are reminded to remember those of us who are less fortunate than we.

So, now I recount some of those wonderful shows over the years that I attended. I hope you can relive the excitement with me. (Let me know if I’m making you gag yet).

Moby. Incredible! Definite proof that techno (he prefers “electronic music”) can work live. Heaven hovers at about 160 beats per minute.

Hum. A dumpy sonic marsh. Crunchy, over-driven guitars, lightly whipped melodies sprinkled with volumatic chuztpah. Minneapolitans Colfax Abbey opened and put on a set that was like musical lithium. Everyone soaked them in and dared not mosh. That’s an accomplishment!

Lords of Acid. The bars at First Avenue got a rest during their set, as everyone was on the floor losing it. They are twenty times better, naughtier and grittier live.

The audience willingly plunged themselves into indentured servitude before the Lords of Acid. There’s nothing like a boss who can party with the help!

Bj”rk. This pixie was more of a schoolgirl as she and her ensemble mostly reinvented her songs on stage.

The disc jockey was complimented by a keyboardist, a drummer/percussionist and a guy hefting an accordion. Opener Goldie was one of those toys that looks cool, but breaks during the first play. Still, Bj”rk saved the day like a rainbow glittered Power Ranger.

Primus. I missed it. Zut alors!

In closing, I wish everyone the happiest of happy secular holiday seasons. Actually, I don’t operate that particular clich‚ wagon except in severe cases. This isn’t one of them.

Since I’ve had my two front teeth for quite a while, a new Barkmarket album would be nice, as would Living Colour getting together.

Even better would be to find $400 dollars or more in a forgotten hole in a wall, a romance this summer in Paris or a car. Oh yeah, a bunch of CD’s wouldn’t be bad either and a world without Hootie would be a happy place.

All of those would be nice, but nothing gives you more satisfaction than your own, well-made mix tape.

So keep things simple, keep things honest, but most of all, keep an open mind.

You’ll never know what you’re going to get. (Yuck! I said it!).

Like Tiny Tim said: “God bless us, everyone!” Well, everyone except Silverchair.