Much like on their previous albums, the songs on Snow Patrol’s A Hundred Million Suns use minimalist rhythm guitar and piano solos to create a sense of visceral intimacy with the listener. With track titles like “If There’s a Rocket Tie Me To It,”and “Please Just Take These Photos From My Hands,” it feels as if lead vocalist Gary Lightbody is pleading with the listener directly, relying on the simplistic beauty of the swelling choruses to defeat any implication of “emo” in his occasionally overblown lyrics.

If you’re the type of listener that likes The Fray, The Format or the more recent releases from The Goo Goo Dolls, than you should definitely pick up The 88’s third album, Not Only… But Also. Let me preface with this: The album isn’t anything spectacular, it is simply piano-based alterna-pop-rock that is very kind on the ears. So kind, in fact, that iTunes promoted the opening track “Go Go Go” as the free single of the week last week.

While The Virgins self-titled debut LP (released over the summer) offers a few fairly danceable and catchy tracks that provided the entire soundtrack for that one Gossip Girl episode, in substance the album as a whole mirrors our favorite Monday night guilty pleasure — it’s fun on the outside, but when you get down to the meat and bones of it, there isn’t a lot there.

Dear Ryan Adams,

I’m writing you, sir, to request that you send me a signed headshot, preferably from 2005 when your hair was grown out and you wore little black glasses. I have an appointment to be tattooed and am going to get my tattoo of the materials you send me — most likely on my right breast. I hope that’s alright with you.

You see, my enduring love peaked this week after you released Cardinology, which I consider to be not only the best record of the year, but perhaps the crowning musical achievement of the past century.

Thank you,

Sammy

* * *

Dear Reader,

Let me explain my praise and accolades.

You can’t spend a night — or the requisite Collegetown three — of dressing like a sexy police officer, Sarah Palin or an oversized pumpkin and come out smelling like roses. This week, the Daze staff share their wildest moments from All Hallow’s Eve: raw and (mostly) unedited. From disastrous high school pranks to men whose fetishes happen to be your specific Halloween costume, writers divulge their best and worst nights. It may have been a long time since elementary school going door-to-door; but that doesn’t mean the tricked and treated memories are far gone. So when Friday (and Thursday and Saturday) come along and the inevitable good and bad times happen, just be glad you weren’t us.

Thief in the Night:

Ingrid Michaelson’s newest album, Be OK, is more than “OK.” It’s awesome. Hits “Be OK” and “The Way I Am” are feel good and light. Ingrid’s voice is beautiful and she hardly seems to be making a conscious effort in her high vocals, making them all the more impressive, such as those in “Oh What A Day.” Instruments in the background vary among tracks and Ingrid’s lyrics are poetic and charming, keeping the large amount of tracks that are on the slower side from being anything but boring. Her renditions of “Over The Rainbow” and “Can’t Help Falling In Love” make you forget that she is not the original singer of these classics.

Sunday, Oct. 26, 6 p.m.: “... I’m sorry?”

“They have so much sex in Risley, they have orgies like every night. Everybody knows that.”

I consider myself a pretty accepting person, but it was shocking that this sort of behavior was tolerated by Cornell authorities. I figure I should do some wiki-stalking before I spent a night surrounded by supposed sexual deviants. Here’s what I discover:

With chapter titles from “Grillin’ Like a Villain” to “How Sweet It Ends,” George Duran’s unique cookbook sets out to take comfort food to a new, decidedly unexpected level. While the recipes may not make for the most appetizing sounding dishes (potato chip Spanish tortillas?), the book is, overall, well written and interesting.

Duran explains right off the bat his penchant for fried foods, and even goes so far as to list some of his favorites: fried pickles, fried strawberries, fried olives, etc. As Duran himself writes, “You can fry all of these things. The question is, should you?” In my opinion, you should not, so the enormous amount of fried food in the cookbook was a bit off-putting. Once past the initial grease, however, there are delicious recipes to be found.

Camera MenIt’s not infrequent for Cornellians watching Entourage or The O.C. to sigh longingly and wish that our fair University were located somewhere a bit more star-studded or sun-basked. But these dreamers can take heart in the fact that once, a long, long time ago, Ithaca was the center of the movie universe.

A year before Mitch Hedberg’s death in 2005, one reviewer described the comedian’s deteriorating and increasingly drug-addled stand-up act thus: “Commenting that he liked drugs, especially Xanax, but he was happy with anything, several small pills found their way to the stage, at least one of which he swallowed after mumbling, ‘What is this?’ He sat back down on the stage and became the picture of a drunken, washed up loser.”