I was on Haight street, near Cole. I don't know if it was the cardboard sign that read "Why lie? I need a drink" or the fact that he was strumming a junkie- looking kid's guitar, but there I was standing over this homeless man, digging into my bag for something to give. I pulled out the debut album by Vancouver indie- popsters Gaze and tossed it in his filthy guitar case next to a half- dozen pennies.

"What the fuck is this?" he asked, halting his pitiful rendition of the Grateful Dead's "Eyes of the World."

I shifted my weight and cleared my throat nervously.

"Uh, it's this band Gaze. Three women from Canada doing the K Records thing to the hilt. You know, Moe Tucker via Beat Happening and the Pastels, poppy songs about being a kid, liking jellybeans and trying to get by in this mean world as a wide- eyed innocent. It's international. It's pop. It's underground."

He narrowed his eyes.

"But why are you giving it to me?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, it's really not my bag. While I admit the songs are fairly catchy and the singing is interesting, I've just heard too much of this stuff already. Every song has the exact same slightly distorted guitar sound and each is utterly conventional in structure."

I pulled out a cigarette and offered him one. He accepted and I continued.

"For music like this to be engaging, it has to be done on a higher level than these three are capable of. There's nothing new to pull you in, it's just competent, safe, slightly- frayed pop. If you're into this scene, you'll dig it, I'm sure. But right now, I'm looking for more adventurous sounds."

He took a drag and blew a cloud in my face.

"No, I mean, why are you giving it to me? I ain't got no CD player, amigo."

"Oh, yes, of course. Well, Amoeba Music is right down the street there, and seeing how this is a new release and plenty of kids with a decent record- buying budget eat this stuff up with a spoon, you might get about $5 for the disc. Enough for two bottles of the high- octane wine of your choosing."

He flashed a reasonably toothy grin and offered his hand. I shook it and then started back down the street, patting myself on the back for having performed another senseless act of beauty in this senseless, senseless world.

-Mark Richard-San