My Bird Performs

Memorial Day weekend is at a close, and this morning finds me updating live from the Chicago suburbs. The past few days have been filled with various forms of competition, numerous bottles of fine beer, and quality time with special people. Regular updates resume tomorrow, but, until then, enjoy this Chicago-style quickie.



Shrimp Boat – I Swear, Happy Days Are Mine. Sam Prekop is a busy man. As the unofficial ringleader of a quasi-collective that includes the Sea and Cake, Tortoise, Brokeback and numerous other post-rock bands from Chicago, Prekop’s influence casts a long shadow over the Windy City. Much of his popularity stems from the risks taken by his first band. Shrimp Boat is one of those criminally underrated bands, like the dB’s in Winston-Salem or Morphine in Boston, that quietly go about its business while simultaneously defining the sound of a geographic region during a certain period. Prekop and his boys emerged from the ashes of new wave and thumbed their noses at the guitar-happy alternative of the early 90s, releasing shambolic, left-field jangle-pop along the way. Duende, the album that I picked up last week, is a prime example of their lazy, yet powerful, taste for the eccentric. Here, vocals slink along across a plunky guitar line while the drums' jazzy sparseness provides a subtle affirmation of Shrimp Boat's aptitude for eclectic fusion.

BONUS: Shrimp Boat – Limerick. This track is a perfect slice of pop song a la Prekop. The folksy vibe is undercut with an energy characteristic of reggae, and seems to predict the Devandra Banhart-led freakfolk movement that’s so popular with the kids these days. Duende, along with most Shrimp Boat albums, is currently out of print in America; CD Universe has remastered imports starting at $29.99.

Posted by Tyler at 12:24 PM | Permalink | Comments

Well, we have a house in Bloomington. After two weeks of potential turmoil, Andy, Drew, and I finally found a place that suited both our needs and our tastes. The landlady said that the house always seemed to get rented out to musicians; we're hoping this is a good omen for our upcoming project (tentatively titled Black Cops). Plus, it sits right along the bike trail, which means that none of us will have to drive in order to sample the wares of Indiana University. Overall, I think things are finally shaping up.

Speaking of Bloomington, I'll be heading down there tomorrow for Drunk Risk and good beers, followed by an appearance at my girlfriend's annual Indianapolis 500 party. As you might imagine, this might mean no updates until I get back. However, before I leave, here are some quick hits and songs to keep you satisfied:

- Cate Blanchett = Bob Dylan? So it would seem.

- RIP ska legend Desmond Dekkar, former Built To Spill drummer Andy Capps, and new wave/punk promoter Ian Copeland .

- This week's sign that things just aren't the way they used to be: Axl Rose not mauling Tommy Hilfiger like a hungry, braid-headed polar bear.

- The Conservative Top 50. If this is irony, then it's well-hidden.



Eleventh Dream Day- Pinwheels. Eleventh Dream Day may be one of the most important band I've never heard of. When I picked up their latest album, 2006's Zeroes and Ones, yesterday, I had no idea that I was buying into a band with 25 years of history under its belt. On "Pinwheels", Rick Rizzo is a bit more subdued than on the rest of the album, taking a more even keel with both his voice and guitar work. Paired with counterpart Janet Bean, Rizzo delivers an easy-to-swallow paean to summer living. It's nothing revolutionary, but it doesn't need to be: the song is a simple reflection of EDD's mastery of the post-punk formula. Its guitar-driven power pop cut with male-female vocals recalls followers like the Essex Green or Saturday Looks Good To Me, revealing exactly which pages these other current practitioners might've borrowed from EDD's book. Pick it up on Thrill Jockey.

Young and Sexy - Your Enemy's Asleep. In an odd example of synchronicity, another recent acquisition offers another example of how to expand upon the trails EDD began blazing in 1981. Like a less disjointed Mates of State mixed with a happier version of fellow Canadian Dan Bejar's bombast, Young and Sexy manage to both swagger and sway. On Panic When You Find It, performers Lucy Brain and Paul Hixon Pittman fly high above the meticulous chamber pop of their accompanists. The results, as heard here, often approach breath-taking. Melancholy has never felt so good. Panic When You Find It is available now on Vancouver's Mint Records.

Edit: Yes, I'm a fool, and realize that it's Eleventh Dream Day, not Eleventh Day Dream. It's fixed now. Go about your business.

Posted by Tyler at 2:26 PM | Permalink | Comments

Ok, funny story: last entry, I promised that Monday would bring a revelation regarding on of my summer music project. However, when I said that, I forgot to take into account the fact that all of that project's necessary materials are still on my school computer in Peoria. Since just moved out today, that update is officially pushed back until next Monday. However, that doesn't mean that I can't take advantage of the night at hand to throw up some thoughts and a couple of songs.



Communication majors get paid to notice when things don't seem quite right, so when ads for iDon't started popping up during my daily visits to Pitchfork, my rhetoric sense started tingling. The site has all the hallmarks of a bonafide counter-culture revolution: the snappy, condescending propaganda, high-mindedly wild prose (in this case, written by "Eric aka Da Sheep Herder") , and a distinct distaste for anything even hinting at conformity to "da man". However, in this case, iDon't's message is severely weakened when their true purpose is revealed: rather than changing the world, they just want a piece of the pie. In a revelation that comes as a surprise to exactly no one, the site that promises to help you "rise up against the iTatorship" (a phrase that just makes me think of tyrannical french fries) actually ends up being a cleverly disguised advertisement for the Sansa e200, a rival mp3 player. In essence, what they mean to say is "Think for yourself: buy our stuff". Sadly, the product seems ok: user-removable batteries, durability, and a low starting price point make it an attractive alternative to the love-hate relationship that many have with their iPods. Too bad the ad campaign is a complete insult to people with even the remotest sense of culture and its counters.

Assessment: two points for iTatorship, but not much else. Do better next time. Now, music.



Jon Auer - Wicked World. The secret known to Posies fans around the world is finally out: Jon Auer may be more fey than Ken Stringfellow. The man responsible for the Posies' famously drowsy ballads made his long-awaited solo debut earlier this month, releasing Songs From The Year Of Our Demise on Seattle's Pattern 25 Records. Returning to form after last year's Posies rocker, Auer once again draws from dark, familiar corners. The record itself feels damp and autumnal, and finds Auer striking like a thunderstorm; half of the tracks are gentle showers, while the others crackle with a mixture of electricity and angst that is both arresting and harrowing. This track, falling in the latter half, is a fine example of Auer's abilities. Though Stringfellow may be more prolific, songs like this prove that his partner is comfortable with his own dedication to subtle impact over quantity.

BONUS: Jon Auer - You Used To Drive Me Around. When Auer decides to unfold over an extended canvas, such as the one found here or on Posies tracks like Amazing Disgrace's "Song #1", things just seem to blossom.

DOUBLE BONUS: Jon Auer - Gold Star For Robot Boy (Guided By Voices cover). This track is, for lack of a better term, totally boss; recorded for a hard-to-find EP released by Houston Party in 2000, it combines my favorite GBV track with the voice of one of my favorite songwriters/performers. In other words, I have nothing bad to say.

Posted by Tyler at 2:02 AM | Permalink | Comments

Well, I'm back, and after a mere 10-month hiatus. Currently, I'm packing up the remainder of my life in Peoria, and getting ready to move back home for the big post-graduation summer. Things around here are terribly deserted, and walking around an empty campus is creepy and bittersweet all at the same time.

Senior year was interesting, to put it mildly. It's too big to cover now, but it'll get its own post in the near future (along with a general "Best Of" college retrospective). Right now, in the interests of feeling summery in the face of junky weather, I have some songs that should do the trick.



Zumpano - Temptation Summary. Zumpano was one of those bands whose members were always destined for bigger and (not always) better things. Essential to Sub Pop's mid-90s switch away from grunge-fueled alt rock and towards more pop-informed output, Zumpano's two albums feature work from guys like Carl Newman (of Canada's "it" group The New Pornographers) and group namesake Jason Zumpano (of Sparrow). Though their first album, 1995's Look What The Rookie Did, has many high points, this song may be its highest. Starting calm and quickly building towards a dervish of power pop and wistful lyrics, the song is perfect for augmenting the listlessness that summer brings.

BONUS: Zumpano - Oh That Atkinson Girl. A fun fact about my discovery of Zumpano: When I was staying in Peoria last summer, I happened to find Look What The Rookie Did in the ultra bargin bin at Co-Op, my local record store. The disc was an original pressing, and had a price tag of $.99. Of course, I bought it. The next day, after using the album as my soundtrack to the Moss Avenue Sale, I checked eBay to see how much it was really worth. As of last June, the lowest bid I could find was around $22.00, further proving that people in Peoria have no idea what they're selling.

Posted by Tyler at 5:59 PM | Permalink | Comments