A sanctified organ whirring, a guitar strummed as if by a dying man's hand, a voice eroded past self-recognition and words so well chosen they couldn't possibly ring true: "Driving by the big estates out on the boulevard/In a blown-out ride rattlin' between the perfect yards/My wife's in a trance starin' at all that romance/Big money can provide/She don't say a word, I know she's dissatisfied." Kevin Gordon's "Dissatisfied,"... More >>>