When a song is embedded in my head there’s usually a trigger to point to. A snippet of the song overhead somewhere, or a vivid memory that’s been brought to mind. But this morning there was no such rhyme or reason. I was minding my own business. Just standing in the kitchen, making some peanut butter toast. And bam, I found “Band on the Run” by Wings firmly lodged in my skull. Though I still manage to mishear it as “Man on the Run” (slightly better than “Man on the Rug”). Is the peanut butter to blame for this earworm of mine? Perhaps. It’s the only clear connection I can make. My brother and I grew up on a steady diet of seventies soft rock…and peanut butter toast (among other foodstuffs). Our Dad was pimped out with not one, but two reel-to-reel players…kicking out anything from Elton John’s “Rocket Man” to the William Tell Overture. The latter, commonly known as the Lone Ranger theme, would get us worked into a lather…galloping around the living room, out the front door and back in to the dining room…revelling in the glory of our cutting-edge sound system. Those were the days. Sigh.