The guitars are clean, the mood is controlled, and the lyrics describe concrete situations with just one or two details twisted.
The second doctor who told me I was bipolar or that I might be bipolar, we can't be sure till I stay "clean" of mood-altering substances faced the wrath of me acting like an addict (getting defensive, angry, and denying everything).
Even in the U.S., which lags Europe in its adoption of clean technologies, the mood is staring to change.
The air is crisp and clean, and the mood cinematic.
In order to stay "clean" from one mood-altering substance, you should abstain from all chemical use, one day at a time.
Clearly, our parliamentarians are in no mood to clean their Augean Stables.
At Corton, which Liebrandt has conceived with the veteran restaurateur Drew Nieporent as "three-star dining stripped down," the mood is clean and bright.
Although the movie does a handsome job of evoking Greenwich Village and eastern Long Island in much leaner times (Lisa Rinzler's cinematography conjures a mood of clean austerity) and has a fine sense of period detail (the Gene Krupa and Billie Holiday music is just right), it concentrates most of its energy on Pollock's artistic and personal struggles.
Most of the time this is very helpful in getting you in the mood to clean.
The Polish trumpeter Tomasz Stanko's records of the last six years, with their elegiac moods and clean, controlled lyricism, have become a primary reference point for current European jazz.
Ever walked into a room that was messy and disorganized, cleaned it, and your mood automatically lightened?
