Because of the generosity of artist and actor Martin Mull, 15 lucky bidders will own his original work following an auction that supports the Figge Art Museum. To see the artwork featured in the auction, schedule an appointment. Also, images of the works and details about each are available at (http://www.figgeartmuseum.org ) in the "Martin Mull auction" section of the home page. Submit bids by phone or e-mail to Mary Davidson at (563) 326-7804 extension 2046 or (mdavidson@figgeartmuseum.org ). Minimum bids range from $1,000 to $2,300 depending on the medium Mull used for each piece, its complexity, and its size. On the Figge Web site, initials of the bidder will be posted next to bid amount, and bids will be updated weekly. The auction ends January 21.

Augie March, Moo, You Bloody Choir. Charting number-one singles on the Australian home front, it's shocking that Augie March achieved close to no notice in the States. Elegant in its simplicity, the band's brand of rock can be compared to post-alt-country-era Wilco, but with a definite Aussie influence - think elements of Midnight Oil, but more literate. Past albums saw Augie March rushing forth like a speeding train, but this time the songs are built around acoustic, rather than electric, guitar parts, so they have a more cautious and quiet path to their destinations. From pop anthems to grandiose ballads, singer-songwriter Glenn Richards uses lyrics as instruments strung together to shimmer like violin strings or crash into one another like cymbals. While Australian critics sing the band's praises, and fans sing their songs, one can't help but wonder if we Yanks are simply mooing in the wrong bloody choir.

Calling a CD Loose Ends is dangerous - with the implication that a band is emptying its junk drawer of songs - but for a local act that hasn't broken yet, it's downright lethal.

I had hoped that the third CD from Iowa City's Human Aftertaste would merely be misnamed, but Loose Ends is a perfectly appropriate title. There's an EP of good material on this collection, but at 45 minutes it's fatty and self-indulgent. Two versions of the cover "Goodbye Horses," a live track, and a mostly spoken-word piece drag it down, and much of the remainder is undistinguished.

Dear Santa,

As I look back on things, I realized that you've been pretty darned good to me over the years. You brought me that electric guitar I wanted when I was nine, the telescope I begged for when I was 10, the Daisy Pump-Action BB gun with scope I craved when I was 11, etc., etc., etc.

As I grew older, your presents became more sophisticated. Stereos, vacations, computers, cell phones, fine Irish whiskey. I've just been overwhelmed by your generosity and thoughtfulness. I can't imagine what I've done to deserve your grand beneficence throughout these many years, but, trust me on this one: I've appreciated every gift you've bestowed upon me.

In fact, Santa, you've been so overwhelmingly kind that I hope this year you turned your attention to others and showered them with presents instead. Here's my list of what some people need.