I watched a live broadcast of an Angaleena concert because I am a firm believer in supporting my friends' endeavors.
Charlie left a life behind and decided to pursue a life in music management. While I have cheered from my cozy, comfy beachside seat, she has made it happen.
So, I decided the very least I could do is check out this Angaleena chick.
I set a reminder so as to not miss it.
Then, a couple of days or so prior, I come home and hear music I had never heard before.
What am I listening to?
Yep. This is the new album.
This is really fucking good.
I KNOW! This is my second time through listening to it.
I sat down and just listened.
That has not happened to me since the first time I heard Southeastern.
So I expected a good show.
I ended up absolutely smitten and pretty much blown away by the sheer badassery.
A woman who is whip smart, can write the fuck out of a song, cusses like a sailor, and takes zero shits from anyone is my kind of woman.
I expected something good. Something that would impress me and glad for Charlie.
I did not expect to steal the record from my wife so I could crank it on my way to work this morning. But you can bet your dick that is exactly what I am doing.
I did not expect to go down the Angaleena Presley rabbit hole. But I have a pot of coffee by my side for just that sort of adventure.
Do yourself a favor and click play.
Postscript - if I didn't genuinely like Angaleena's music, despite how much I love Charlie, I would have written a post about my boner this morning. I already had it typed out. #truestory.