I fear the lyrics to Hot Hot Heat’s 2002 hit single will morph into reality following the drunken debauchery that will surely ensue on tomorrow on Slope Day. People will be singing, “Bandages, bandages, bandages / Up and down on my legs my arms from you!” But whether or not these words will simply be the result of a catchy, stick-in-your-head chorus or of a horrible drunken accident … I guess time will only tell.

Perhaps best known for “Bandages,” Hot Hot Heat has authored four best selling albums, which together include four top 50 hits. The band’s most recent album, Happiness Ltd., was released last year. Hot Hot Heat will perform second and directly before Gym Class Heroes tomorrow afternoon.

DULUTH, Minn. (AP) — Was there a serial downloader lurking outside Jammie Thomas' window? Did someone else hook up a computer to her Internet connection?

Those are some of the questions her attorney has been raising in the nation's first trial of someone accused of illegally sharing music online.

But Richard Gabriel, lead attorney for some of the nation's largest record companies, sought to pick those ideas apart one by one by calling witnesses to document each step the record companies used to point the finger at Thomas.

Testimony in the civil case was to resume Wednesday in federal court in Duluth. The case could wrap up as early as Wednesday night or Thursday.

Were you planning on doing something important on Monday, Oct. 5? Well now you are. I am demanding that each and every one of you who reads this column take part in No Shuffle Day.

It’s exactly what you think. Refraining from shuffling or randomly playing the songs on your iPod for an entire day. Instead, listen to full albums from start to finish. Do you think you can do it?

It’s a much harder challenge than one might imagine. I came across the website for No Shuffle Day (noshuffleday.com) last month. The group encourages music listeners to avoid shuffling on the first Monday of every month. So on the first Monday of last month, Sep. 7, I tried to commit 100 percent to a 24-hour block of shuffle free music. I failed miserably.

Near the end of Sufjan Stevens’ solid, if somewhat uneven, set at Castaways Wednesday night, one especially zealous fan in the front yelled for Stevens to play “Decatur,” a song off of his excellent 2005 album, Come on Feel the Illinoise. The request rose easily above the crowd’s quiet murmuring, but before Stevens could respond, another fan demurred for him.

“Play whatever you want!” the fan yelled, prompting a whooping response from the majority of the crowd.

I’m an itty-bitty little white girl. I like movies by the Coen Brothers and novels about rural America. My style is a mélange of hippie, classic and indie. My taste in music is, for the most part, exactly what you would expect. Except sometimes, when I surprise even myself. Case in point: Viktor Vaughn. Attend.

Viktor Vaughn is a man of many names. He was born Daniel Dumile in London, 1971, to a Trinidadian mother and Zimbabwean father, and has since performed under seven different pseudonyms. Can you say multi-faceted, ya’ll? So, what sort of music does he play, you ask? Hip-hop. Really good hip-hop.

Here’s the thing about falling in love with a city: it’s all about the complexity. The richness of a place lets the relationship linger and grow over time — people are myriad and varied, the food varieties are endless, the music is always bumpin’.

Sunday was the second of two days of co-sponsored events brought about by Dan Smalls Presents and funded by Ithaca Beer Co. While Brew Fest is widely lauded — if upstate New York constitutes “widely” — Positive Jam is an event that has yet to grow to full maturity. Although it’s less attended and less publicized, I felt on Sunday that I was at the beginning of something big whose potential had not yet been realized.

While I’m a music nerd in the flesh, I’m somewhat athletic when I want to be. I particularly like to run (although some may call my pace a swift jog). Like most who frequent the gym, working out requires some form of media to enjoyably pass the time. My weapon of choice is the iPod.

And you may ask yourself, “How did I get here?”

Talking Heads cliché aside, the sentiment of the above lyric has rung especially true for me over the past week and a half. It hasn’t completely sunk in yet, and I haven’t totally internalized this new state of mind, but I feel the unavoidable truth leering at me through all my best attempts to push it back into the recesses of my consciousness. And I’m not alone. Not by any means.

Close friends and casual acquaintances; classmates I haven’t seen since a writing seminar freshman year: Speaking with others from the class of 2010, I’ve noticed that we all seem to be grappling with the same question, one that continues to confound and alarm us even as we come to terms with the very obvious truth of the matter: