The band was from Barrie, Ontario, and they were exactly like a band from Barrie, Ontario, their songs about women, their voices like diesel, their ripped jeans and the bassist’s long hair.  It was hair commercial hair, maybe even better.  The only way to describe it is to say that on those nights, the ones when a single cockroach climbs from your heart and lands on your palm, and you’re left sitting on your single bed on greasy sheets with a single streetlight to illuminate what just crawled out of you, that is the kind of hair, smelling of head and shoulders, that you long to cry into.  I would date that man just for a chance to cry into his glorious golden hair.