My Bird Performs

I wrote a postcard yesterday. Here's what it said:

I'm standing in the post office, watching the leaves turn at the church across the street, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now. I hope you can say the same about whatever place you're in.

When I finished, this song came on my Walkman. I just thought I'd share.

Paul Simon - Hearts and Bones. Is Hearts and Bones the most underrated Paul Simon album? Probably. Was the $.50 I paid for the cassette version at an area Goodwill this weekend a complete steal? I think so. Is this, the title track to said album, a beautiful piece of music? Most definitely. Paul Simon knows how to write an autumnal song.

This latest mini-hiatus was caused by various weekend dalliances with two very honored guests. I'll be back to real updates later today.

Posted by Tyler at 1:29 PM | Permalink | Comments

Unless you're a band looking for a street team, random MySpace friend requests rarely amount to anything more than a solemn click of the reject button. However, on the flip side, sometimes they're totally awesome.


This is Phil Aiken, piano player and my new friend. According to his website, Phil's worked with pop luminaries including Buffalo Tom, Ben Kweller, James Taylor, Ken Stringfellow, and, of course, sportscaster Peter Gammons. Not a bad musical CV, if you ask me. Aiken's also plugging his second album, the recently released It's Always The Quiet Ones. The album employs the ever-popular piano-bass-drums base, and features, according to the enthusiastic press release over at Not Lame, "a multi-layered collection of meaningful songs with enough jolt to push any listener out of their aural malaise". A pretty big promise, no?

Phil Aiken - Figurine. I like this track. It doesn't have the bombast found in most Not Lame releases, but that works in its favor. Aiken does his best John Linnel impersonation while dishing out hooks that'll sneak up on you later when you least expect it. Maybe I'm just getting old, but I find it hard to ask for much more.

Phil Aiken - It's Always the Quiet Ones. When you're dealing with piano pop, it's easy to make comparisons to the "big names": Randy Newman, Billy Joel, Ben Folds, and so on. On his website, Aiken calls out the inherent tiredness of this approach, wearily stating:

"And no, it doesn't sound like Ben Folds. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Does every guitar player sound like John Denver? Or Yngwie Malmsteen?"

Funny stuff, and I agree: piano pop doesn't have to be one-dimensional. Neither, apparently, does MySpace.

For more Phil Aiken, visit his website. To be his friend, go here.

Posted by Tyler at 11:47 PM | Permalink | Comments

If you're already anxious about what surprises 2007 will hold for music fans, here's an early one: the Polyphonic Spree have have become *gasp!* a focused pop band. At least, that's what the group's new EP, entitled Wait, would have you believe.



Amidst some truly inspired covers (a Daniel Johnston-esque romp through Nirvana's "Lithium", a Polyphonic retconning of Tripping Daisy's "Sonic Bloom"), Tim DeLaughter managed to sneak out some original songs scheduled to appear on the Spree's third album, The Fragile Army. In spite of what the album title might have you believe, these two tracks are decidedly hearty. Since I'd feel kinda scummy posting 40% of the EP up here for free, I'm only offering the first and, coincidentally, superior track. Buy the rest here.

The Polyphonic Spree - Mental Cabaret. This is the most purposeful-sounding Tim DeLaughter track since the days of Jesus Hits Like An Atom Bomb. Anyone who was turned off by the community theatre vibe of Now We Are Heavy would do well to give this new material a few listens.

Posted by Tyler at 9:24 PM | Permalink | Comments

A note to all future Notre Dame quarterbacks (i'm looking at you, Claussen): when you play a game like this...


...and make this man look like a competent quartback...


...then it only follows that this will happen.


47-21. At home. To Michigan. I just wanna wake up. A win in next week's game in East Lansing is now vital instead of expected. In this time of adversity, only one thing can raise my spirits: Manfred Mann.

Manfred Mann - The Mighty Quinn (Quinn the Eskimo)

Go Irish. Beat Spartans.

Posted by Tyler at 12:54 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm back in Bloomington, relatively unmolested and brimming with updates. Like, you know, this one:



Herbert - Moving Like A Train (Smith 'n' Hack Remix). Here's a little something for a Friday night. German dance duo Smith 'n' Hack transform this track, originally taken from jazz-house guru Matthew Herbert's Scale, into an entirely different animal. Excised are the disco flourishes and sass-coated female vocals; instead, it's a pulsing beat and staggered, spastic horn loops that dominate this piece. This song came on the radio last night during the part of the drive when the fog was the thickest, and it kinda made me feel like I'd stumbled into a chase scene. I was stoked.

Posted by Tyler at 10:22 PM | Permalink | Comments

So, it seems that I've stumbled into yet another Peoria adventure. I guess unemployment has its advantages sometimes, though I think I might be getting too comfortable with the rambling life.

Speaking of rambling, Bobby Bare, Jr. is readying for a new album release on September 26. Titled The Longest Meow, it was (according to AllMusic.com) "recorded in eleven hours one Saturday in March, 2006 with members of My Morning Jacket, ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead, Lambchop, and Clem Snide sitting in as the current incarnation of Bare's Young Criminals Starvation League". Now, that sounds like a fine way to spend a weekend. However, the reviewer goes on to explain that the final product might not live up to the recording process itself. I guess I'll reserve judgment for a couple of weeks. Until then, have fun with some tracks from Nick Nacks and Paddy Whacks, Bare's tour-only live release,



Bobby Bare, Jr. - I'll Be Around. During the awkward post-mortem of a recently discontinued relationship, there's no better feeling than watching an ex-lover's initially seamless transition back to single life come crashing down around them. Times like these produce interesting combinations of schadenfreude and genuine concern, as well as songs like this. Bobby Bare plays the part of the stalwart, if ignored, other half, ready to help pick up the pieces in exchange for a simple melancholy guilt trip.

Bobby Bare, Jr. - Mayonnaise Brain. And then, there's the rock. One of Bare's most endearing qualities is his tendency towards fits of studied rambunctiousness. Sure, the voice may be just sloppy enough, and the guitars may weave the drunken fuzz almost too deliberately, but, in the end, the usefulness of a restrained approach outweighs the tempting destructiveness of a full-on meltdown.

Posted by Tyler at 10:56 PM | Permalink | Comments

Yesterday evening, the Bluebird played host to shitkickers and hellraisers from all walks of life, as the Reverend Horton Heat held his own special brand of revival in downtown Bloomington. Aside from the usual bowling-shirts-and-leopard-print set, crowd was amazingly varied. I was especially struck by how many older, seemingly normal baby boomers showed up ready to rock...abilly.







The night started off right, with Danish psychobilly act The HorrorPops opening things up just after 9pm. I didn't expect to like these guys as much as I did, but any band that features fly girls in skeleton dresses can't be too bad. Also, let it be known that there's nothing sexier than a woman who can work an upright bass.

The HorrorPops - Hit 'N Run. When I wasn't busy accidentally ogling the go-go dancers, I was struck by how much vocalist/bassist Patricia Day's delivery reminded me of an early No Doubt-era Gwen Stefani.

The HorrorPops - Walk Like A Zombie. While the HorrorPops sometimes come across as all "Pop" and no "Horror", there are flashes of the macabre in songs like this one (though the doowop portion at the end kinda defuses any menace that might've been building).





Then, church was in session. After nearly 20 years of constant touring, Jim Heath hasn't lost his edge; pound for pound, he's one of the most exciting guitarists, rockabilly or otherwise, that I've ever seen in person. Citing complaints from his message board, Heath turned the setlist over to the audience halfway through the night, resulting in airtime for fan favorites like "Nurture My Pig", "Bad Reputation", and "Big Little Baby". The cover songs also came out in force, with versions of Johnny Cash's "Get Rhythm" and Frankie Lane's "Jezebel" melting the faces of many unsuspecting audience members. I ducked out after "Jezebel", but the Reverend was still going strong. For all I know, he's still playing.

The Reverend Horton Heat - Galaxy 500. I'm not too familiar with Heath's later work, but if all the songs have this sort of energy, I need to remedy that.

The Reverend Horton Heat - Bales of Cocaine. This was my song of choice during the "you yell it, we play it" portion of the show, and for once, they actually heard me. Either that, or the other 20 people yelling for the same thing managed to tip him off, but whatever. I still think it's a big deal.

Posted by Tyler at 5:32 PM | Permalink | Comments

I'm going to see His Holiness, the Reverend Horton Heat, tonight at the Bluebird, so I'll have pictures and post-game thoughts up tomorrow. For now, though, I thought I'd take some time to look at a few of the albums that I've been listening to over the past couple of weeks.

The Mountain Goats - Get Lonely

If you've ever had a breakup that literally made you forget how to live, this is the album that you've been waiting for. As for the rest of you: count yourselves lucky, because identifying with John Darnielle's soft-spoken, wry desolation isn't exactly enviable. Still, all personal experiences aside, this album is filled with poetry that comes naturally, and painfully, for Darnielle.
The Mountain Goats - Wild Sage

M. Ward - Post-War

This is the sound of a modern day troubadour, or, perhaps, Devendra Banhart cutting his hair. After treating listeners to old-timey throwbacks on last year's Transistor Radio, M. Ward is back with more faded tales straight from the lonesome, crowded west. Call it a hunch, but I think this is going to be a fantastic soundtrack for watching the leaves turn.
M. Ward - Requiem

Outkast - Idlewild

To anyone expecting another breakout single in the vein of "Hey Ya!": no luck. For those eager to hear a well-turned hiphop meditation on marriage and family: strangley enough, you've come to the right place. Though the album tends to shy from the colorful, fluid MC work that helped build Outkast's reputation, its high points still rival everyone else's.
Big Boi feat. Sleepy Brown and Scar - Morris Brown


After the show recap, I should be back with some football odds 'n sods, including a recap of last weekend's full-tilt roadtrip to Atlanta and predictions on how the Irish will fare in their home opener against the onslaught of Penn State and its powerful undead leader.

Posted by Tyler at 4:32 PM | Permalink | Comments

Well, Labor Day is officially gone, and with it go the long days of summer. As much as I love all things autumn (Oktoberfest beers, college football, apple orchards), summer's power over me is undeniably strong. With that in mind, here are a couple of songs to usher out firework days and usher in bonfire weather.


Loudon Wainwright III - The Swimming Song. I'm not sure why this one gets to me so much. Maybe it's the hint of bittersweetness in the plucking of the banjo that's so affective, or the images of drowning and self-destruction tucked inside the otherwise goofball lyrics. I can't place it, but it usually leaves me unsettled.

The Drowners - Summer Break My Fall. I think it's safe to say that my unabashed love for Is There Something On Your Mind? is significantly greater than that of my peers. I think it's also safe to say that this song is the poppiest song about season affective disorder this side of... well, "Seasonal Affective Disorder" (which, lo and behold, happens to come from the very same album). Besides, who could be more familiar with the seasons' emotional rollercoaster than the near-Arctic Swedes?

Fancey - Autumn Music. Todd Fancey: the forgotten songwriter of the New Pornographers. When you're in a group with performers like Carl Newman, Dan Bejar, and Neko Case, it's probably pretty easy to get lost in the shuffle.

That's all for now. Expect more seasonal music as the weeks go by, and maybe even an Atlanta Weekend recap.

Posted by Tyler at 2:18 AM | Permalink | Comments