The Golden-crowneds are, as best I can tell, already gone. Gone certainly are the days when their short, sad song set pace to the quiet days of winter. "Oh Dear Me" or, "I'm Lonely" as it's heard by the distressed and distraught. I'm partial to the busted 49er version: "No Gold Here"...if only for the element of ironic self-denial.The fractured-compulsive babble of the polyglot, the self-righteous swainsonses' scream, it's all rubbish to the somniacal siren song of winter complacency: "Roll over."
