My Bird Performs

sweetums.

2007-06-06T04:21:00.000-04:00

finally i found it, after a real long time of internet searching: the soundtrack to Michael Crichton's The Andromeda Strain, composed by Gil Melle. It's a barrage of bleeps and blips, primitive electronics that for its day were incredible (probably about as incredible as the effects in the movie were). Speaking of, I can't help but think of the movie when i listen to it, and since it is one of my favorite movies (and books, too) ever, there is no complaint in that department. never have underground decontamination chambers sounded better, and i must say death in piedmont is portrayed rather brilliantly. it's a stark record, and it's not an easy listen. i'm not even sure why i wanted it so bad. but i have days where, honestly, that music would just work with my mood. my only hope is that someday i'll be able to get my hands on an original vinyl copy of this baby.

i don't think anyone ever reads this anymore but me. oh well, i was getting tired of looking at my last post.

smooch.

2006-11-25T16:30:00.000-05:00

i was worried about the new beatles record, love, when i first heard about it.

but when i heard the vocal line for "within you without you" over the rhythm track for "tomorrow never knows," i was amazed. there is some really cool stuff going on, like taking "good night" and putting the "octopus's garden" vocal melody in there instead.

later on in the record there is some pitch-bending and such, which is understandable, cuz if you've ever tried to play along to some of the later stuff, you'll realize it's sorely out of tune.

towards the end of the record, there is less mashing, which was kind of a disappointment, but i guess you have to get into cirque du soleil mode, and realize there's supposed to be a show going on over this. and then it's forgivable.

honestly, the record is sort of like a fresh perspective on some beatles tunes. and sir george martin still has it. yes.

UPDATE: being a beatles kid, after repeatedly listening to 'love,' i just really want to sing along to the whole tunes; with this record, most of the time you don't get that. after a while you think, "man, 30 seconds of 'what you're doing' just isn't cutting it." and then you realize you should have just listened to 'rubber soul' and the rest of the original records, because, like always, nothing will ever top them.

You're welcome.

2006-10-09T02:01:00.000-04:00

Since Tyler's too busy doing... I don't know, Tyler-things, I thought I'd pick up some of his slack. If you've ever had any sort of conversation about music with me-- and more specifically, pop music-- you know that I subscribe to the "Swedish people write the best pop songs" theory. And I've thought of creating a detailed post to prove this point. Then... I discovered that the argument has been made already. In a more succinct, far catchier way than I could ever manage. Meet I'm from Barcelona, a 29-piece supergroup of nerds, dweebs and geeks. Swedish nerds, dweebs and geeks. Enjoy.

A wise man's tools are analogies and puzzles.

2006-10-03T23:21:00.000-04:00

Since it's football season once again, I've been watching more concentrated blocks of television than I do during other parts of the year (otherwise known as "the dark times"). As a result, I've seen more than my fair share of commercials. Now, I mean, I majored in communications, so I know what to expect from advertisers. However, there's only so much I can take sometimes. Vonage, you should be ashamed of yourselves. I've never dreaded watching a Notre Dame home game until now, and it's all thanks to you. However, during the breaks, while I'm wishing away these little slices of obnoxious, I occasionally catch a glimpse of some non-abrasive ads. Here, for your viewing pleasure, are two, both of which highlight choice tracks from earlier this decade:

Hem - Half Acre. First, there's this little feel-good spot from Liberty Mutual. In addition to the whole pay-it-forward-ness angle, the commercial sports an addictive soundtrack in the form of this, a track from Hem's 2001 album Rabbit Songs. While I'm not going to run out and refinance, I have to give advertsing firm Hill Holiday credit for their pairing of message and soundtrack. If they were going for memorability, they nailed it. On its own, the song is perfect for this time of year, with hints of frost forming at the edges of singer Sally Ellyson's voice while she ruminates on home and longing. I'm a little late on posting this one, but after seeing it roughly 20 times during the Notre Dame-Purdue game on Saturday, I had to act.

Royksopp - Remind Me. Something different, something the same. In this ad from Geico, we see that society has yet more socrn to heap upon the indignant neolithic pitchmen. The moving sidewalk double take got a chuckle out of me. Once again, song and scene are a perfect fit. The caveman's weariness, whether from travel or from disrepect, is mirrored by Royksopp's ode to wanderlust. In a way, that puts the Norwegians at thematic odds with Hem. I can only imagine what that fight might look like.

I threw a dart at Europe; she hit Michigan.

2006-09-29T20:32:00.000-04:00

So, turns out that this fall actually does just keep getting better. First, the Fightin' Irish help Michigan State yank defeat from the jaws of victory, then I score tickets to both Robert Pollard (November 9th @ the Bluebird) and the Decemberists (November 11th @ the Riviera), and now, perhaps the best news of all: the Pernice Brothers have a new album on the way.

Scheduled for release this coming Tuesday (October 3rd, for anyone keeping score), Live A Little features the return of producer Mike Deming, who handled the boards for Joe Pernice's previous band, the Scud Mountain Boys. Deming also produced Overcome By Happiness, the Pernice Brothers' debut album. Apparently, though, the similarities between that album and Live A Little end there. Sez the website:

"This one has strings and horns, which have not been part of a Pernice album since OBH. But, and this is a mighty exception, it’s much more of a rock record than that was, representing the running of big fat analog tape while sweaty guys played on well-crafted instruments through amplifiers and pounded on sweet, old, drum kits."

Quite an image, that. Live A Little comes at you courtesy of Joe Pernice's own Ashmont Records.

Pernice Bros. - Conscience Clean (I Went To Spain). A rare glimpse at the humorous side of Joe Pernice reveals that it's just as melancholy as all the others. Personally, I have no problem with that, as long as he keeps producing songs like this one.

Pernice Bros. - PCH One. Now this song gets me excited. There's just the right mix of wispy fragility and unexpected bombast to keep things interesting, and the lyrics, which are billed as "more literary [than] cinematic", live up to that billing with gusto. Plus, and this is well-documented by now, I'm powerless to resist well-placed handclaps.

Rainbows in the high desert air.

2006-09-26T13:29:00.000-04:00

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.

Build me up and tear me down.

2006-09-19T23:47:00.000-04:00

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.

You will outshine.

2006-09-18T21:24:00.000-04:00

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.

SKUNKBEAR'D!

2006-09-17T12:54:00.000-04:00

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.

The movers and the shakers.

2006-09-15T22:22:00.000-04:00

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.

We'll read Toby Keith and smoke some weed.

2006-09-12T22:56:00.000-04:00

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.

Live @ The Bluebird: The Reverend Horton Heat, September 7, 2006

2006-09-08T17:32:00.000-04:00

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.

Psychobilly Freakout! (also, some reviews)

2006-09-07T16:32:00.000-04:00

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.

These precious days.

2006-09-05T02:18:00.000-04:00

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.

The quietest shade of loud.

2006-08-31T13:46:00.000-04:00

A few things of note before we get to the music.

- Happy Football Christmas! Me? I'm asking for world peace, an Irish National Championship, and this poster:

- On a related note, I'll be in Atlanta this weekend to cheer Notre Dame to victory over the Ramblin' Wreck of Georgia Tech, so Saturday's update may not happen. This goes double if we lose; then, I plan to a) drink myself blind on Peach Schnapps and paint thinner, b) weep into Irish beer and dream of what might've been, or c) waking up face-deep in the lap of some accomodating southern belle.

Prediction: QB Reggie Ball and WR Calvin Johnson give our defense fits initially, but the Irish secondary tightens in the second half behind three Brady Quinn touchdown passes. Final score: Notre Dame 31, Georgia Tech 21.

- So, any other Warcraft types out there praising the heavens for the new linked Battlegrounds system? I mean, I'd always dreamt of living in Alterac Valley someday, but now, that dream is a blood- and snow-covered reality. In short, I'm not coming out until I hit Exalted. At this rate, my wolf and I will see you next week.

Ever notice how most house musicians look more like substitute teachers than dance wizards?

Bent - Waiting for You. Yet another band from the "should've heard about 'em earlier but didn't" pile, the duo of Simon Mills and Nails Tolliday has been charting the course of off-the-wall house since my freshman year of high school. Bent's new album, the soon-to-be-released Intercept!, has all the groove of classic Daft Punk and all the neurotic vocal tension of LCD Soundsystem. Basically, this sound please fans of IDM and "The O.C." alike. Intercept! arrives this September, courtesy of Godlike and Electric Records.

You know the drill by now: satisfy all of your Bent-related needs at their website, then make friends over at the pair's MySpace page.

You can belittle every little voice that told you so.

2006-08-29T22:15:00.000-04:00

I'm not dead, only wounded. The "settling in" portion of the move to Bloomington is nearly complete, so expect regular updates to resume relatively soon (and yes, I know my track record on these promises is shoddy at best; I'm working on that.)

The Vetiver review and the rest of the Lollapalooza pics will be up... when I feel like it. I'll probably backdate the posts to preserve some semblance of continuity for future generations, but I'll make an announcement when they actually go up. After all, I like you guys.

So, in keeping with my new trend of being behind in just about everything, here's this: apparently, Vagenius is no more. Instead, they're now called Hello Stranger, and their long-awaited self-titled debut is finally in stores, courtesy of Aeronaut Records. Vagenius was one of my favorite blog finds of last year, and their new record can't arrive at my doorstep fast enough. So, to help pass my postal exile, here are some tracks from the original Vagenius self-release.

Vagenius - Which Side Is Mine. This track was rerecorded for the new record, but, after hearing a clip of the new version, I'm not sure if it's an improvement. The Hello Stranger version removes the detached, echo-laden vocals in favor of a bland, AAA-style stright recording. If I wanted Natalie Imbruglia, I'd go to Australia. Still, production quibbles aside, this track is a perfect example of why I'm not ashamed to love synthpop. Also, that lovely synthetic sound you hear there? Totally a keytar.

Vagenius - After All. This track didn't make the cut for the new album, so consider it a bonus. I certainly do. Once the keys kick into full effect around the 0:59 mark, I think you will, too.

Hello Stranger is on MySpace, and welcomes all new friends with a hearty hello.

This just in!

2006-08-21T01:04:00.000-04:00

Moving sucks. Be back later this week when I can actually use the internet without stealing my neighbor's wireless.

The dead of Manassas.

2006-08-16T23:36:00.000-04:00

Hear ye, hear ye! New Decemberists track's a-comin'!

So, The Crane Wife has leaked. If you just can't wait until October, you probably know where to find it. If you just want a taste, read on.

If you've read any reports, you might've heard that the Decemberists have again tapped into the same prog-rock outlet that produced 2003's The Tain. For the most part, it's true. The Crane Wife certainly features no shortage of sweeping, important-sounding electric guitars, and two tracks top the 10+ minute mark. However, unlike the band's previous foray into rock opera territory, the moments of epic bombast are mixed with enough delicate melancholia and acoustic strummery to remind listeners that they didn't pop in Led Zepplin IV by mistake. For instance...

The Decemberists - Yankee Bayonet (I Will Be Home Then). ...this song, a duet featuring Colin Meloy and guest songstress Laura Veirs, weaves a story of despair and devotion over the backdrop of the American Civil War. Think Cold Mountain, only good.

My copy of "The Perfect Crime" is glitchy. Otherwise, I'd post it, too. If you're feeling intrepid, though, track it down. It's decidedly... dare I say?... funky!

The Crane Wife is set to drop on October 3rd, and is the Decemberists' first record on major label big-boy Capitol. Pre-orders are already being taken.

Live @ Lollapalooza Day Two, August 5

2006-08-16T04:47:00.000-04:00

Here's Day Two. Quickly!

After missing the early train home the night before, we vowed to keep our travel affairs in better order for Saturday. This basically meant waking up at the seemingly inhuman hour of 9am and hopping the 10:30 Metra out of Downer's Grove. On the train, we consulted our schedules while trying to figure out how many of our fellow passengers were headed to the festival. Krystiana and Alex decided to make Nada Surf their first act of the day, so I was left to my own devices to start the day. When we arrived at Grant Park, I had some food and watched Sa-Ra do a relatively harmless "Parliament without the hair extension or rhythm section" impression.

Though their set was unimpressive, I have to give Sa-Ra some credit. After all, who else would have the balls to put Dumb Donald from Fat Albert on the mic?

Since I had some time to kill before seeing Cold War Kids, I stopped by the shade of the BMI stage just in time to catch St. James. I think I was one of maybe a dozen people in the audience, which must've been disheartening for the band. For the record, they weren't bad. A little singer-songwritery, but my head bopped a couple of times.

Unfortunately, the Cold War Kids were my first disappointment of the day. I don't think I had unreasonably high hopes; I didn't really have any hopes. I liked the tracks I heard back in January, and just wanted them to live up to 1/3 of the blog hype generated on their behalf. For whatever reason, though, their sound just didn't translate well from studio to stage.

This is Nathan Willet. He sings. He also looks like one of my neighbors from freshman year. His name was Kevin. On the first weekend of school, he got drunk and broke his hand by falling out of his loft. That story has nothing to do with Cold War Kids. I'm just stalling for time.

Aside from Willet, the rest of the band was hard to photograph. Most of the time, they appeared to be locked in combat with their instruments or, as is the case in this particular shot, taking bows. The photo-related frustration might've been half the reason I left so underwhelmed.

With my hipster debunking out of the way, I headed over to the Q101 stage for the Go! Team. They were introduced by Beatle Bob, consummate St. Louis scenewad and all-around snappy dresser. With his reputation as an inconsiderate spaz well-documented , it's good to see him being well compensated for his behavior.

The Go! Team brought the first real energy of the day, and I'm not sure the audience was ready for it. Though Ninja tried her best to light some fires in the crowd, no one seemed very interested in busting any moves. I did all I could, bringing out my patented "overweight white boy bob-and-sway", but I'm sad to say I just couldn't salvage things.

While the audience wasn't keen on participating, they did appear game for a rousing round of silent appreciation. Ninja probably thinks we're all totally lame.

Doing the Standing Still took some major energy, so I decided to have a lie down during Built to Spill. It was a good choice; Doug Marsch's songs had just enough sonic thickness to keep my attention, even when I was half asleep in the grass.

By the end of the set, fans started to clear out significantly. So, after working up the energy needed to hop up, I snaked through the now-sparse crowd until I found myself at the barrier just in time to catch the last couple of songs. Some write-ups I've read described Built to Spill's performance as "low energy" or "predictable". All I can say is that they must've been watching a different show.

Since I'd stumbled into such a prime spot, I decided to make the most of it. Sonic Youth was next on stage, and front row spots only meant skipping Calexico, performers to whom I felt no personal attachment. Here's where I get ambivalent, though: while I loved the chance to see Sonic Youth live and up close, I'm not sure I picked the best time/place to see them live for the first time. With an hour timeslot and a new album to push, the band's set skewed heavily towards the new stuff. The good news? Rather Ripped sounds like something I should buy, eventually. The bad news? No "Teenage Riot"! Or even "Dirty Boots"! I mean, I don't mean to sound like one of those "just the hits, ma'am" fans, but gimmie something I can scream along to! If the Flaming Lips can do "She Don't Use Jelly" for the eleventy billionth time without flinching (which, of course, they can), then anyone can.

Is it weird that I'd still totally sleep with Kim Gordon?

I left Sonic Youth's set disillusioned, in search of something to brighten my spirits. Fortunately, the prescription for my funk was warming up at the Q101 stage just as I began in that direction. The Smoking Popes' set had everything a great festival set should have: a small, but interested crowd, band members who're actually enjoying themselves, and a setlist that plays to the strengths of the occasion. I'm not sure how many people in the audience were diehard fan and how many were, like me, hearing the Popes for the first time. What I do know is that everyone who walked away from that performance on Saturday left as a Smoking Popes fan. I think I speak for the music community at large when I say, "Welcome back, boys. It's good to have you".

Matt Caterer was kind enough to mug for all the cameras on his side of the stage. The Popes are working on a new album, slated to come out on Victory Records some time in the not-too-distant future. Man... why'd it have to be Victory? Now I gotta break my geas about never buying anything remotely associated with Hawthorne Heights. Shucks.

My love for the Smoking Popes had it's price. By the time I returned from their set, the entire left side of the park was full of people who all seemed way to excited for their own good. Turns out, however, that their energy was warranted: the Flaming Lips' live set brought the house down. While the balloons and the streamers, the Santas and the spaceballs, are all standard when you're reading about them, actually experiencing them live is an entirely different story. Wayne Coyne surveyed the scene in his off-kilter ringmaster sort of way, and owned the crowd from the very beginning. I've never seen anything like the feelings of positive energy that seemed to enfold everyone around me. It was like everyone forgot about the heat and the dirt and the exhaustion and the $10 gyros and, for one hour of a dusky Saturday evening, just got together and had a meaningful collective experience.

Everyone except for that one bitch who had her boyfriend hoist her up so she could pop the giant balloons with the end of her Marlboro. After a couple of offences, she was literally booed away from her spot.

After nearly tearing up druing the "Do You Realize??" singalong, I figured that was my cue to pack things up. I left the park to the sounds of the New Pornographers in the distance, and the rumble of trains overhead. It was a good day to be in Chicago.

Day Three later today.

Live @ Lollapalooza Day One, August 4

2006-08-11T17:47:00.000-04:00

So, my Lollapalooza pictures are a week late, and my Vetiver review is pushing 10 days. Sue me. While you're doing that, check out these long-awaited shots from last Friday's opening day.

Arriving at Lollapalooza this year was an adventure in and of itself. I was staying out in the suburbs, and decided to take the El into the city as a means of avoiding the twin hassles of traffic and parking. This tactic was marginally successful, but also fraught with peril. The trip to the station alone took me through a wild, and accidental, side trip through O'Hare. Once I finally got settled on the train itself, I realized that, in addition to being mapless, I had no idea where I was going once the trip was over. Then, the wandering began. To make a long story short, I didn't get to Grant Park until around 2pm, so Eels was the first act I caught.

E. and his boys rocked out. Hard. For a while, I wasn't even sure I was watching the correct band, but then "I Like Birds" kicked in and I knew I was in the right place. During the set, Krazy Al here did his best to support the rock by looking like a lankier version of Zangief and busting out some sweet martial arts moves.

My travelmates were still subjecting themselves to Panic! At The Disco (a move that we all later agreed was the wrong one), so I moseyed over to check out Stars by myself. XRT's own Marty Lennartz handled their introduction.

The very nature of the summer festival setup tends to favor some types of bands while putting others at a decided disadvantage. Stars fell squarely in the latter category. Much like other bloggers noted last week, the lack of intimacy, coupled with the ADD pace of an eight-stage show, really robbed Stars' music of its power. Then again, have the terms "Canadian chamber pop" and "August afternoon" ever really gone hand in hand?

If you can't read it, lead singer Torquil Campbell's shirt says "I Miss Grant McLennan". I want.

Our neighbors to the north.

During Stars, Krystiana and Alex finally emerged from the other side of the park. A little older and scores wiser, we spent some time dissing Panic! and catching up on old times before heading over to Ryan Adams' set.

Aaaaaaand here's the day's first lull. I'm not terribly familiar with Ryan Adams' work, and his set at Lollapalooza did little to convince me that I should remedy the situation. Then again, I might've just resented the trifecta of heat, mud, and crappy position that was bearing down on me at the time. It doesn't matter. I snapped this surprisingly cool shot of the video screen before setting off in search of greener pastures.

My search for a better set led me to Mates of State. They played one of the side stages, which, in this particular case, was located strategically between the Virgin Megastore tent and half of the food vendors. The crowd was surprisingly substantial, and came prepared to swing.

I was both amazed and heartened by the number of people who actually sung along to the majority of the set. Somehow, I just didn't expect that kind of devotion from your average Lollapalooza attendee.

This is Kori Gardner's profile. This is also the closest I ever got to actually seeing her face during the performance.

Much like last year, Lollapalooza featured a multitude of text message-based scavenger hunts/flashmob contests. However, this year, organizers packed even more interactivity into the eccentric (and potentially lucrative) diversions. One contest had concertgoers collect special passwords from 50 different clowns (like these two) that would roam around the park. I'm not sure exactly what kind of prize was up for grabs, but people seemed keen on the idea of "catching them all", if you will.

After grabbing a late lunch, I stopped by the Q101 stage just in time to get knocked on my ass by a proverbial fist of sound known only as the Secret Machines. These guys were loud. Like, bowel-shaking loud. For a while, I felt like I was in a Maxell ad.

The Ranconteurs were preparing to go on next door, so I did what any sensible music fan would do: eschewed the crowds to catch a good spot for Jim James and My morning Jacket. Along the way, I caught the tail end of Iron and Wine's set, which, if my ears didn't deceive me, complimented the slow-simmering heat perfectly. In the lone picture I took, Sam Beam looks like a billboard advertisement for the crucifixion. I don't think that's terrible far off the mark.

This girl had a hula hoop. That's pretty much it.

My Morning Jacket was the perfect band to help usher in sunset over Grant Park. I spent most of their show on my back, examining the now-cloudless sky, but I sat up long enough to get this shot. For some reason, it reminds me of the cover of "Frampton Comes Alive!". Anybody else?

Watching Sleater-Kinney reminded me of reading The Grapes of Wrath for 11th-grade English; in both cases, I knew the material was supposed to be staggeringly important, but I simply couldn't make any kind of emotional or intellectual connection with it. Still, I guess history's history. I just hope the Violent Femmes had an off night. Otherwise, I'll have two reasons to be disappointed.

My lack of enthusiams was definitely the minority opinion in the crowd that night. Most of the people around me looked like they transcended simple fandom; for most, this was less about music and more about a way of life. Many of those in attendance didn't have wristbands, meaning that they were one-day ticket holders. I'll give you one guess about who they came to see.

While My Morning Jacket was still playing, I thought I was going to have a riot on my hands. Starting at the beginning of "One Big Holiday", rumbles of discontent went through the crowd gathered for Sleater-Kinney. If Jim James played one more song, most reasoned, drastic action would have to be taken. Pitchfork and fire drastic. So, at then end of the song, James acquiesed... for about two seconds. Then, he launched into the longest, jammiest version of "Mahgeetah" you've ever heard. Ignoring my rapidly declining sense of safety, I wooed anyway.

Braaaaaaaaains....

Before Death Cab For Cutie took the stage to close things out for the night, I snuck over to the Mindfield stage for a DJ set with Mark Palgy and Craig Pfunder of Louisville's own VHS or Beta. You've never seen so many awkward, sweaty white kids flail in unison to "Funky Town".

Two wizards.

By the time I got back to the land of the living for Death Cab's set, darkness had fallen and decent seating was in short supply. Instead of fighting my way through sorority girls for a decent spot, I plopped onto the grass, set my head skyward, and let some nostalgia wash over me. No matter how much I front, it's always going to be true: Death Cab For Cutie are one of my favorite bands. Ever. And there is nothing wrong with that. The skyline seemed beautiful on my way out, so I took this picture. Then, it was off to Union Station with Krystiana and Alex, and home to a strange house, a strange bed, and the best night's sleep I'd had in weeks.

Saturday should be up late tonight, assuming I can stay awake. Expect Sunday tomorrow or later, and Vetiver shortly thereafter. Then, and only then, will things get back to normal.

Gone Palooza-in'

2006-08-05T01:45:00.000-04:00

I think my legs are falling off. Day One of Lollapalooza 2006 is in the books, and Days Two and Three are fast approaching. I'll be back among the living on Monday with pictures, thoughts, and a head-to-head analysis of this week's festivals. Until then, peace in the Middle East. For reals this time.

And they could float above the grass in circles if they tried.

2006-08-03T02:55:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know: the Vetiver review is still on its way. But first, peep this: while putzing around on a few random message boards this evening, I came across new tracks from this little undiscovered band I've been following for a couple of years. They're called the Shins. You might've heard of 'em. Had a couple of song a few years back? Showed up on that Garden State thing? Real promising bunch of youngsters?

Anyway, these songs, performed during a live show at the Hollywood Bowl last month, made the blog rounds when they were first recorded, but I thought I'd use them to kick off the pre-Lollapalooza hype a little early.

The Shins - Circus Walk (Live at the Hollywood Bowl). "Do affections fade away?" wonders James Mercer in a moment of love-induced disillusionment. This song doesn't really provide an answer, but makes an art of coming up with more painful questions.

The Shins - Phantom (Live at the Hollywood Bowl). The Shins bring their concern with suburban entropy to the fore on this track, at the risk of sounding tired. However, led by Mercer's tautly melodic yelps, they manage to tread the well-worn path lightly enough to pass unscathed.

The Shins - Australia (Live at the Hollywood Bowl). This song comes dangerously close to actually making listeners feel good. The lyrics themselves are your basic treatise on mutablilty and frustration, so the solace here comes from the music. Arguably the loosest song of the three, this track finds the Shins trading their occasional dourness for a doowop swing and some tribal la-las that wouldn't be out of place on an Animal Collective B-side.

Makes you want those rumblings about a new album to be true, eh?

Live @ Pitchfork Music Festival, July 29-30

2006-08-02T21:03:00.001-04:00

With only hours left until I leave for Lollapalooza, I figured now might be a good time to tie up some loose ends from this past weekend's Pitchfork Music Festival. So, behold! Photographs!

We arrived to the festival late on Saturday, getting through security just in time to catch the beginning of Man Man's set. In my preview, I said that I expected Man Man to change my mind, and I'm happy to report that they succeeded. I'm not sure I've ever seen that kind of on-stage energy from a band in a festival setting. The band also gets bonus points for their outfits, which appeared to be a cross between tribal war dress and John McEnroe costumes.

I skipped Band of Horses in favor of grabbing some lunch (vegetarian tamales from Goose Island Brewery), so the next act I caught ended up being the Mountain Goats. Much like Man Man, I wasn't completely sold on John Darnielle before seeing him perform live. However, as the raucous crowd that showed up for his set can attest, Darnielle's laureate-sized lyrics and blustery command of the acoustic guitar are enough to win over even the stoniest skeptics. Plus, he seemed genuinely happy to be on stage, and offered some of the most endearing crowd banter of the entire festival.

After the Mountain Goats finished up, I headed off in search of the rest of my party, who had opted out of Darnielle's set in favor of perusing the merch tent. As I made my way towards the back of the festival to begin my search, I ran across two familiar faces: Mr. Chris Ashbaker and Miss Jessica Madsen, fellow Bradley English majors and consummate music fans. We chatted for a bit, then I snapped this picture and resumed my walk.

My excursion took more time and money than expected (though I came away with a Ted Leo and the Pharmacists hoodie and discs from the Danielson Famile and the Dirty Projectors), so Art Brut was the next set that I caught. Also, this is the last picture that I took before realizing that the zoom on Janelle's camera actually went up to 10x zoom instead of just 3x. As you can imagine, the pictures get better from here.

A cool moment: At one point during Art Brut's set, while the band played "My Little Brother", I happened to glance over to my right and notice none other than John Darnielle rocking out not six feet from me.

During "Moving to L.A.", Art Brut frontman Eddie Argos struck a westward pose... and held it for about 90 seconds.

I had to skip the last third of Art Brut's set in order to take my spot with Janelle and co. for Ted Leo and the Pharmacists' set. This was my first time seeing Leo live, and I'd built up my expectations so high that, as he took the stage, a little man in the back of my head whispered "This ain't gonna live up, boyo". My little man doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about.

The set itself featured a mixture of songs old and new, as the Pharmacists burned through a selection of track that stretched from 2001's Tyranny of Distance to as-yet unreleased new material. For some reason, I wasn't connecting with the new songs as much as I'd hoped I would. At the time, I chalked it up to a lack of familiarity, and I'm sticking with that until I hear what happens on the next album.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the highlight of the festival: during the climax of his closer, the menacing "Ballad of the Sin Eater", Leo grabbed the microphone from its stand and began bashing away, Sandman-style, at his forehead. When the blood began to flow, my jaw dropped and my camera flew to the ready. It may sound goofy, but that moment may be the closest thing to a rock spectacle that I've ever seen.

As you can tell, our spot for the Futureheads was less than ideal, but that was about the only thing about their show that failed to satisfy. Talk about a tight performance. The band's showmanship was matched only by the crowd's willingness to play along, creating a nice rapport and an electricity that was impossible for the Silver Jews to match. We were worn out after bouncing along to the Futureheads, so we took in the Jews' set in reclined positions at the back. You'd be surprised by the number of stars you can see in the Chicago night sky if you actually concentrate.

This is the group, minus me, at the end of Saturday night. For some reason, [NAME REDACTED] looks stoned out of her mind in this shot.

The El rides to and from the show were interesting. Janelle and I dubbed the trains the Hipster Express, and found particular enjoyment in picking out which scene kids we'd like to push onto the tracks. We called our new game Anna Karenina. The best/worst indie t-shirt, you ask? Why, it had to be the one that said, in stark, plain text, "I'm so indie I make Daniel Smith look like John Darnielle".

We crashed immediately after arriving at the hotel, and woke up on Sunday feeling tired but cautiously optimistic. Everyone wanted front row spots for Jens Lekman, so we left earlier than we had the day before. While the girls waited for Jens, I took a moment to sneak up to the front of Danielson's set, which was enjoyable, if a little predictable. Much like Man Man the day before, Danielson spared no expense in the outfit department, with each member dressed in his/her own uniform that brought to mind stylized images of 1950s crossing guards.

I think I have a crush on Daniel Smith's sister/keyboard player Megan Slaboda.

The girls made good on their promise of choice spots for Jens, who put on a swinging show with the most attractive backing band I've ever seen. Six Swedish girls in white dresses? Count me in. The music was pretty good, too.

Once again, I parted ways with my companions in order to seek the greener pastures of the other stage. After another quick lunch break (fish tacos, once again from Goose Island Brewery), I slid up to the Constructor stage at the end of the National in order to get a prime view for Aesop Rock and Mr. Lif. The sun was at prime baking temperature at this point, so I alternated between drinking my water and pouring it over my head. It was rough going, but all was forgotten once the tables started humming.

Though I was previously unfamiliar with either man's work, Aesop Rock and Mr. Lif put on my favorite performance of Day Two. The crowd was on their side, as well. I've never seen so many hipsters get that amped for a hip hop set.

To the 6'4" linebacker meathead in front of me who insisted on throwing up the horns and gyrating back and forth wildly at the slightest provocation from the MCs: you just made my list.

Since I'd finally wormed my way to the front, I decided to skip the Liars and tough it out until Devendra Banhart took the stage. While I waited, I amused myself by taking some pictures of those around me. Recognize anyone?

Devendra Banhart's set suffered from the fact that it followed Aesop Rock and Mr. Lif. Though I normally enjoy Banhart's brand of feel-good freakout, his set at Pitchfork felt a bit flat. At its best, though, the music still got me swaying.

Devendra Banhart: modern-day preacher man.

When Banhart pulled young Victor B. Bicycle from the crowd to perform one of his very own songs, I had to groan. I'd just spent the last hour and a half listening to Vic make a tool of himself with his girlfriend (their conversation about T. Rex was precious). However, all of my ill feelings were assuaged once he got behind the guitar. As loath as I am to admit it, this kid's got some chops.

I don't remember exactly what this little pose was supposed to signify, but it seems like it must've been important at the time.

And here I am! While milling around the front of the stage between sets, I had the pleasure of meeting a few fellow bloggers, including Matt from You Ain't No Picasso. This picture will soon be featured as part of this year's Men of the Blogosphere calendar, a charity endeavor designed to raise money to buy headphones for impoverished hipsters across the nation.

Once again, the onrush of darkness prevented me from getting any decent pictures of the night's closers (in this case, Spoon). Instead, I settled for a shot of crowd gathered behind me. "Packed" doesn't even begin to describe it. Everyone was ready for Britt Daniel and his boys to take the stage, including me. However, their performance made me reconsider a point that I argued last year after Spoon's set at Lollapalooza. Then, people called their show boring, and I disagreed. This year, though, after seeing them play what amounts to the exact same set in a different venue, I'm beginning to wonder. Still, Spoon is Spoon, and they managed to get by on the strength of their material alone. My traveling companions had work in the morning, so we skipped Os Mutantes (an error, if you ask me), and headed on our way.

And so ends our coverage of the 2006 Pitchfork Music Festival. My assessment? $30 well spent. Stay tuned for my review of last night's Vetiver show, followed by the first of three Lollapalooza previews. Exciting times? Quite.

Art Brut: Top of the Pops.

2006-08-01T13:11:00.000-04:00

The Pitchfork recap/pictures post has been delayed until later tonight or tomorrow. After a weekend of heatstroke-inducing temperatures, hotel couches, and an eternity on the Dan Ryan Expressway, I'm spending my first day back doing the only thing that makes sense: going to see Vetiver in Bloomington. Expect a bonus write-up of that, too. Until them, enjoy this clip of Art Brut performing live on Saturday afternoon. What a bunch of charmers.

Pitchfork Music Festival: Day Two Preview

2006-07-29T12:56:00.000-04:00

If you’ve been checking our updates for the past week or so, you’ll know that we’re in the midst of covering the 2006 Pitchfork Music Festival. Our preview of Day One is already up, so it’s on to Day Two!

BIZ 3: DAY TWO

1:00 - Jeff Parker/ Nels Cline Quartet
1:55 - Bonde Do Role
2:50 - CSS
3:40 - Cage
4:30 - Tarantula A.D.
5:20 - Ada
6:10 - Glenn Kotche
7:40 - Dominik Eulberg
8:10 - Diplo

The Biz 3 stage returns for its second day with a lineup that features greater cohesion and more international flavor than Saturday's fare. Headliner and Philadelphia party boy Diplo brings his brand of trendsetting DJ sets to Chicago, and he’s brought friends: Brazilians Bonde Do Role and CSS prove that football isn’t the only thing that can excite that patented South American passion. For those with more colonial tastes, Wilco members Glenn Kotche and Nels Cline offer two sets of improvisational drum riffs and jazz guitar duels, respectively.

OBVIOUS CHOICE: Diplo. Unapologetically hip, Diplo goes on at exactly the right time of day. His beats will have to compete against indie journeymen Spoon, but chances are good that the grooves will be too enticing for some to resist.

BIGGEST BARGAIN: Ada. Pitchfork writer Sam Ubl called the work of Cologne, Germany’s Ada “tech-house’s version of the Strokes... simple but slyly detailed [with a] self assured cosmopolitan vibe”. Catch her instead of Devendra if forest spirits just aren’t your bag.

ACT TO WATCH: CSS. Full name Cansei de Ser Sexy (Portugeuse for “tired of being sexy”). These Brazilians combine the grimy trash of Peaches with the smooth synth lines of early Michael Jackson. Trust me, it works.

CSS - Let's Make Love and Listen Death From Above. Is it the broken English? The proposition? Both?

CONSTRUCTOR: DAY TWO

1:30 Danielson
2:35 The National
4:20 Aesop Rock & Mr. Lif
6:10 Devendra Banhart
8:10 Spoon

Consturctor’s second day offerings are a marked improvement over its uneven first day schedule. Danielson’s Narnia-pop kicks things off with a bang and, after a brief step back in the form of nth-generation New York standards The National, keeps things popping with indie hip-hop golden boys Aesop Rock and Mr. Lif. Freak folk star and part-time shaman Devendra Banhart helps Spoon close out the festival.

OBVIOUS CHOICE: Spoon. Spoon is the new black. If you haven’t seen them live, think of it as an obligation. If you have, think of it as a treat.

BIGGEST BARGAIN: Aesop Rock and Mr. Lif. How many of your average Pitchfork attendees would normally go out of their collective way to see these dudes in concert? Hands?

ACT TO WATCH: Danielson. Daniel Smith and his band of merrymakers wins one for prayer club kids everywhere with his eccentric brand of boisterous Christian odes. This is going to be the set to see.

Danielson - Did I Step On Your Trumpet. This song wouldn’t be out of place in a civic theatre musical. That’s not a bad thing.

ALUMINUM: DAY TWO

1:00 Tapes ‘n Tapes
2:00 Jens Lekman
3:30 Liars
5:10 Mission of Burma
7:10 Yo La Tengo
9:10 Os Mutantes

Once again, the battle for main stage supremacy isn’t even close. Aluminum’s Sunday lineup is even more solid than its admittedly strong Saturday lineup. From blog darlings Tape ‘n Tapes to tropicalia legends Os Mutantes, there’s nothing here to disparage. If I had to make on desultory comment, it would be heaved in the Liars’ direction. Nothing personal. I’m just not a fan.

OBVIOUS CHOICE: Os Mutantes. The closers, and the band most likely to elicit squeals of joy from fans of psychedelic rock everywhere. Often imitated, these guys are the real McCoy. Os Mutantes also completely the Brazil lovefest started earlier in the day on the Biz 3 stage.

BIGGEST BARGAIN: Yo La Tengo. With a new album on the way, you can expect to hear some new material. However, though “new material” is usually code for “bathroom run”, advance reviews of Yo La Tengo’s new album, I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass, is tighter and more exuberant than anything we’ve heard before.

ACT TO WATCH: Jens Lekman. I mean, come on. Who doesn’t love some good old-fashioned Scandanavian pop music? Plus, have you seen the video for “You Are The Light”? Genius.

Os Mutantes - A Minha Menina. Just listen. You’ll like it.

And that’s all she wrote. The Pitchfork Music Festival preview is officially closed, and I’m off to kick off the real thing. Expect a brief recap tonight before bed. If you’re good, I might even take pictures.

Pitchfork Music Festival: The Night Before Recap

2006-07-29T11:22:00.000-04:00

So, here's to free hotel wireless. Blogger's finally decided to work, so my preview of Day Two will be up soon, along with a review of today's action after I get back tonight. Until then, enjoy this: yesterday, I arrived in Chicago way too early, and was forced to entertain myself. What follows is an account of that magical hour.

***

6:51 PM - I’m sitting in the cafe section of a Dominick’s on Higgins Road. I decided to break for dinner here because it seemed friendly and well-lit enough to accomodate an extended stay. My travel estimates were, as usual, a bit off, so I’ve arrived 3+ hours ahead of my festival companions, who are coming from Madison and have the hotel check-in information. I also miscalculated the relative ease of finding a coffeehouse with wireless capabilities, so I’m without an internet connection, as well. I do, however, have a grocery store.

The Dominick’s in question is one of those large, supergroceries that began popping up in the late 90s as a means of fighting back against megastores like Wal-Mart and Meijer. What this means is that, in addition to regular grocery store services, this location features amenities including, but not limited to, the cafe I’m sitting in and the self-service bar where
I got my food: eel rolls and Pom from the sushi bar. Surprisingly, for grocery store sushi, the stuff was pretty satisfying. However, with dinner out of the way, all I can do is wait.

7:07 PM - I’m seriously reconsidering my decision not to attend the pre-party tonight at the Metro. Not only would it give me a chance to see Voxtrot, but the simple act of getting to the club would’ve occupied my time until Janelle and her crew arrived. Plus, tickets were only $15. What was I thinking? Oh, right. “I hate Aziz Ansari”. That must’ve been it.

7:11 PM - I broke down and called Janelle. Seems that her theoretical ETA is one hour; however, I doubt this assessment. Even though they’re coming from the northwest instead of the southeast, the fact remains that navigating around Chicago is a truly harrowing experience. For instance, I spent an hour and 10 minutes on the Dan Ryan Expressway (that last part? total misnomer.) going 20 miles an hour and surrounded by the least capable drivers I’ve ever witnessed. The concept of exits? Totally eluded them.

7:15 PM - Voxtrot goes on in two hours, probably more. If I left Dominick’s now...

7:16 PM - There’s an old Japanese guy in a White Sox hat sitting at the table opposite me. He seems intensely interested in alternating between reading today’s Tribune and resting his head on the table. When he walked up, I was still eating my sushi, and I thought of how funny it would be if, once he sat down, he started eating a hamburger. There’s something wrong with me.

7:18 PM - Today on the Skyway there was a woman with sunglasses in her hair driving the car behind me. She was attractive and eating an apple. Once, by chance, we both looked up/back at the same time, and it seemed comfortable. After that, I kept trying to draw another look, but she wouldn’t hear of it. As we passed the McDonald’s in the middle of the road and I looked down to adjust the radio volume, she disappeared. I looked around me, checking the other lanes she might’ve switched to, but I couldn’t find her. It was very strange.

7:25 PM - My boredom is beginning to take over, so I’m going for a lap around the store. If I buy anything, I’ll let you know.

7:43 PM - Receipt:

Water - $.50
McVitie’s Milk Chocolate Caramel Digestives - $2.74
Tax - $.06
Total - $3.30

The walk was both refreshing and fruitful (as you can see). I bought the digestives from the world foods aisle because a) they’d been “reduced for quick sale” and b) I’ve always wanted to try a digestive. Something about the name seems so foreign, yet so familiar.

Some observations from the walk:

- If I ever owned a grocery store, I think I’d conduct all my business from the walk-in beer fridge during the summer. Seriously, how could you be stressed in there?

- While I was walking by the sausage, I noticed a girl around my age. She was wearing a lime green shirt, and I couldn’t tell for the life of me whether or not she was pregany or just a serious booze hound. I had to do the lame, double-back-and-pretend-to-be-interested-in-the-eggs move just to get another look. I might’ve asked, if I was one of those people who ask things like that. Then, I noticed that she was carrying a white purse. Somehow, I knew the second choice was correct. I walked by again anyway, just to reconfirm. As I passed the second time, I caughta whiff of her perfume. It smelled very good.

- Apparently, in my haste to pay for my sushi, I completely missed the panini counter at dinner. Damn my quick passion for East Asian cuisine.

I’m going to try my digestives now.

7:50 PM - The digestives get the thumbs up. Think of a less dense graham cracker coated with a slightly sticky chocolate/caramel cover on one side. I’m already resiging myself to the fact that I’m going to eat the whole package over the course of the weekend. I guess the British know what they’re doing in the world of cookies after all.

7:56 PM - I should be in the parking lot, sitting in my car with the air conditioner on and listening to the end of “This American Life”, which is about pen pals this week. Over the course of the trip, though, I determined that leaving the air on might not be such a “hot” idea (pun very much intended). While I was on the highway, I could almost swear that the air conditioner was pulling in fumes from my exhaust. For a while, I chalked it up to driving on a flithy road in a filthy city with filthy cars. When I parked at Dominick’s, I decided to test my theory. I sat for a few minutes, listening to a report on “All Things Considered” about how Floyd Landis is a dirty cheat, and the smell was still there. First the shifting cable (I didn’t even know I had one!) and now this. My car is trying to tell me something. I think she wants to be put down.

8:00 PM - It took me an hour to realize that I left my car unlocked. My car, where I keep my luggage and my wallet. I’m very dumb. Be right back.

Pitchfork Music Festival: Day One Preview

2006-07-27T21:21:00.000-04:00

As we wind our way through the dog days of summer, Midwestern music fans can take heart in more than just air conditioning. The summer festival season is finally upon us and, though the wait was long and arid, the three shows that are now just hours away from commencement have "promising" written all over them. Over the next two and a half weeks or so, My Bird Performs will transform into Festival Central, offering coverage from Chicago's Pitchfork Music Festival (July 29-30) and Lollapalooza (August 4-6) and Indianapolis' Midwest Music Summit (August 10-12). During this period, check the site for artist profiles, song samples, performance reviews, and all manner of pictures/personal musings from myself and an assortment of guest staffers. To put it simply, the next couple of weeks are gonna be totally tits, y'all. And, with that...

Pitchfork, with its unique combination of vitriol and toffee-nosed elitism, is often used as an example of exactly what's wrong with today's American hipster. However, indie kids everywhere can, for one weekend each year, ignore the site's normally divisive nature and start doing what they were originally meant to do: stand around with their arms crossed listening to bands their parents haven't heard of. That weekend is known as the Pitchfork Music Festival. After getting a taste for the festival atmosphere as curators of last year's Intonation Festival, the people behind Chicago's favorite virtual music rag return a year older, a year wiser, and ready to kick their cred meters into high gear. First, some basics:

NAME: Pitchfork Music Festival
DATES: July 29-30
VENUE: Union Park, Chicago, Illinois
PRICE: $20 for single-day passes, $30 for the whole shebang
TICKET STATUS: It's official - as of yesterday, this baby is sold out.
SIGNIFICANT ACTS: Brazilian tropicalia pioneers Os Mutantes; freak-folk captain Devandra Banhart; college radio stalwarts Yo La Tengo; semi-recluse twangers the Silver Jews; British franchisers Art Brut. For a complete list, check here.
INTENDED AUDIENCE: College radio DJs, former college radio DJs, guys who wax their mustaches, record store clerks, bookish girls, the people in that video.

As you can tell by that admittedly unscientific analysis, Pitchfork looks to appeal to a crowd that's either too jaded or too broke for Lollapalooza, its behemoth older brother. Its attempts to further distance itself from the festival establishment include *gasp!* actually turning their event into a real festival. Throughout the past week, citizens in Chicago have been treated to numerous Pitchfork-related special events. Here are the three coolest:

3) Graphic Noise: Art at 1000 dB's - MODA's Rock Poster Exhibit. Straight from Atlanta and into your head comes a week-long exhibition celebrating the best of rock-related art and graphic design. According to an exhibition presse release, posters and handbills from artists such as Elvis Costello, Death Cab for Cutie, Duran Duran, and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs are among the highlights of the show, which opened at Chicago's Page Brothers Building on Sunday night. The show runs until Sunday, July 30, and is free to the public.

2) Lunchbreak Concert Series at the Chicago Cultural Center. If you've never been to the Chicago Cultural Center, you're missing out on one of the most enjoyable, not to mention affordable, experiences that the Windy City has to offer. Located in the city's original public library building, the Center's beaux arts architecture is only part of its charm. Open year-round, and offering free admission, the center is home to a number of eclectic artistic installations, ranging from performance art pieces to storytelling competitions. The last time I was there, my friends and I spent a good 30 minutes examining an exhibit dedicated to the art of hand-crocheted superhero costumes. It's just that kind of place. However, one of its most popular traditions is the Lunchbreak Concert Series, a feature that offers busy Chicagoans the opportunity to enjoy a free program of music in the same time it takes to haggle with a street vendor over the contents of a hot dog. Usually devoted to jazz, classical, and world music, this week's series has a decidedly hipper feel. Each day, one of Chicago's popular music clubs sponsored, in conjunction with Pitchfork, a showcase of their favorite Chicago artists. Highlights from these chioces include indie darlings Office (chosen by Schubas Tavern) and honky tonk chargers the Hoyle Brothers (chosen by the Empty Bottle).

1) Pitchfork Festival Opening Night Party. In case you can't wait one more day to start the party, Pitchfork once again has you covered. On friday night, the Metro will play host to the Pitchfork Music Festival Pre-Party show. An extra $15 (the free ends here) pays your way into the indie opening ceremonies. Show up, drink, trade iPods with strangers; you know, whatever it is you do. The event is capped off with performances by comedians Todd Barry, Aziz Ansari (featured in the video above), and Eugene Mirman, as well as music by the Joggers, Sunset Rubdown, and my new favorite group: Voxtrot.

Voxtrot - Raised By Wolves. I'll be the first to admit it: I'm a little late in showing up to the Voxtrot lovefest that's gripped some blogs over the past few months. However, when I found out they were playing at an event I may very well attend, I broke down and downloaded their first two EPs. Oh what a fool I've been. Mixing the exquisite jangle of 80s guitars with equal parts Pharmacist swagger, Gibbard swoon and Sufjan spirtuality, these guys are going to be gracing my mixtapes for years to come.

THE FESTIVAL

Amazingly, everything up until now only serves as a precursor to the festival proper. Since the event is of the massive two-day variety, I've decided to split my preview into two posts. First up is Saturday, and a starting lineup that rivals anything Kenner could ever dream of. For info on any of the artists, including links to their websites, go ahead and check the festival front page.

Since the festival is separated into three stages, I figured I'd look at each one on its own. Unsurprisingly, their names smack of crypticness: the Constructor and Aluminum stages will handle the bulk of the main action, while the Biz 3 stage will act as the festival's B stage. It will also have the pleasure of being the first one we scrutinize for weakness. Hurray!

BIZ 3: DAY ONE

1:00 - 8 Bold Souls
1:50 - Flosstradamus
2:50 - Chicago Underground Duo
3:45 - Tyondai Braxton
4:30 - Ghislain Poirier
5:25 - Spank Rock
6:45 - Matmos
7:40 - Matthew Dear
8:40 - A-Trak

Any festival's B stage has one of the least enviable tasks in showbiz: attracting the disinterested. Fortunately for plucky little Biz 3, Pitchfork has even stacked its practice team with some serious talent. On day one, the Biz 3 stage plays host to acts that cater to audiences outside the indie rock spectrum. The publication seems to be using this stage as a means of flexing its indie hip-hop cred: on Saturday alone, attendees can "ride dirty" with acts like Montreal DJ Ghislain Poirier (whose own website touts his obsession with "big dirty beats") or Adult Swim darlings Spank Rock. For the more electronically inclined in the audience, Biz 3 features sets by house artist Matthew Dear, as well as Chicago natives and mash-up aficionados Flosstradamus and A-Trak, whose prowess behind the tables has impressed even Kanye himself.

OBVIOUS CHOICE: Matmos. As the only instantly recognizable act playing Biz 3 on Saturday, Matmos' quirky ambient tracks will probably bring the stage the bulk of its attention on Saturday, though their spot during parts of sets by both Ted Leo and and the Walkmen will likely hurt attendance.

BIGGEST BARGAIN: Flosstradamus. Situated between the cannibals of Man Man and the melancholy noodlers in Band of Horses, Flosstradamus goes on at a prime time for attracting walk-bys. It'll still be early (the boys go on at 1:50), so why not shake some ass early? It couldn't hurt.

ACT TO WATCH: Matthew Dear. Maybe I'm biased because of my innate love for house and trance, but I think Matthew Dear is going to deliver big this weekend. His work combines coolness and edgy detachment masterfully, and he's positioned at a time of day when most people could use both of those. Now, if only he can woo some folks away from the main stages' one-two punch of the Walkmen and the Futureheads.

Matthew Dear - But For You. This is what it might sound like if Yellow Magic Orchestra had been run by knife-wielding philosophy majors instead of three Japanese dudes.

CONSTRUCTOR: DAY ONE

1:30 - Chin Up Chin Up
2:35 - Band of Horses
4:20 - Destroyer
6:10 - Ted Leo and the Pharmacists
8:10 - The Futureheads

With the electronic crowd covered, it's time to move on to the main stages for a look at the action in the center ring. With five acts to offer, the Constructor stage is the smaller of the two main stages. It also appears to be the stage that'll make fans earn their keep. While the Aluminum stage has the good fortune of releasing Man Man from their cages as only the second act, the Constructor stage will likely lose some fans to Biz 3 early thanks to a less than inspired early lineup. Beside the previously mentioned Band of Horses, Constructor also plays host to Chin Up Chin Up, whose Brand New-like love for clever titles does little to mask the averageness of their music. However, all is not lost. The second half of the day brightens considerable, and features three acts (Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, The Futureheads, Destroyer) that are all guaranteed hits. Palpable ones.

OBVIOUS CHOICE: Ted Leo and the Pharmacists. If you could only see one act at the Constructor stage on Saturday, this should be your pick. Ted Leo's creative writing major lyrics and snarly, proactive D.C. punk attitude are matched only by his own vocal acrobatics. I've never heard a man with testicles hit such high notes while simultaneously rocking as hard as humanly possible. This one's a no-brainer.

BIGGEST BARGAIN: The Futureheads. I only say this because they're British, and seeing them in Chicago is clearly cheaper that seeing them in Brighton. Though their new album has yet to move me, they're still one of the reasons I'm at the festival to begin with.

ACT TO WATCH: Destroyer. Dan Bejar is one crazy mofo with a flair for the dramatic. When it comes to his work with Destroyer, I prefer the theatricality of Your Blues; apparently, this puts me in the minority. However, my spider sense tells me that this performance has the potential to sway my opinion.

Ted Leo and the Pharmacists - Loyal To My Sorrowful Country. And people say no one writes protest songs these days.

ALUMINUM: DAY ONE

1:00 - Hot Machine
2:00 - Man Man
3:30 - Mountain Goats
5:10 - Art Brut
7:10 - The Walkmen
9:10 - Silver Jews

The other, bigger main stage suffers from less obvious faults than its smaller counterpart. The Aluminum stage is home to each day's headliner, and this responsibility is reflected its lineup. Truthfully, there really aren't any obvious holes here. Well, except for the Walkmen. I've never liked the Walkmen. Hamilton Leithauser just sounds like a butch Bob Dylan. Anyway, I guess that's a personal problem.

OBVIOUS CHOICE: Silver Jews. These guys aren't headlining for nothing. Since David Berman broke out of his own semi-reculsiveness and began touring earlier this year, I've been itching to catch the Jews in action. Their last album, 2005's Tanglewood Numbers, was easily in my top 5 from last year, and their back catalogue is even stronger than that.

BIGGEST BARGAIN: Art Brut. See: the Futureheads.

ACT TO WATCH: Man Man. Yes, I know. Man Man = super sweet. I remain unsold, though. Somehow, they just sound like a shipwrecked drunk guy's answer to the Decemberists. Plus, that "Engwish Bwudd" video is seven types of obnoxious. We'll see what some live action face time can do for the boys' reputation. There's one thing I do know, though: if these guys don't look as filthy as they sound, I'm outs.

Silver Jews - Buckingham Rabbit. Oddball Americana, you say? Malkmus on guitar, you say? Go oooooooon....

CONCLUSION

Well, that's Day One, and what a day it promises to be. I'm predicting at least one pleasant surprise (someone on the Biz 3 stage gets me to buy their CD), one shocking disappointment (The Futureheads skew heavily towards their new stuff) and one complete surprise (Ted Leo's vocal cords explode on stage). Check back tomorrow for Day Two, and throughout the weekend for thoughts and pictures.

Hurray! I'm for the other team!

2006-07-26T15:10:00.000-04:00

For the past few weeks, I've been saving this update for use as a potential lull-buster. You know, in case things get a little to stale around the ol' website. Well, as you can see by the sporadic updates of the past couple of weeks, now is just such a time. We have big updates on the horizon, however; in the coming weeks, you'll be treated to previews and reviews of music events like the Pitchfork Music Festival, Lollapalooza, and the Midwest Music Summit, interviews with Jon Auer and Ken Stringfellow of the Posies, and a site redesign that'll either blow your balls off (if you have them) or cause you to grow balls (if you don't). For now, though, enjoy a quick trip back to elementary school via some off-the-wall covers of even more off-the-wall songs. Ladies and gentlemen, I present... Schoolhouse Rock! Rocks.

In those often-awkward years of middle school and junior high, I was, well... often awkward. As an overweight, Catholic school bookworm with thick glasses and a Python-esque sense of humor, I probably could've been used as the nerd template in a cross-cultural education program on the subject of social outcasts. Unfortunately, I didn't really have many fellow nerds with whom to commiserate. I spent most of my time in front the television, where I either a) played Final Fantasy or b) watched an alternating combination of Comedy Central (because being funny kept me from getting picked on even more) and cartoons (because I like cartoons).

Schoolhouse Rock! was in its second run on ABC when I was a kid, and that was certainly ok by me. Their funky combination of folksy pop and public access educational material appealed to my Junior Dean's List nature, while their music video-like setup brought to mind images of MTV. I remember distinctly asking my mom to rent each of the VHS collections that came out in 1996. In my pre-friends, pre-Internet existence, finsing those tapes was a huge deal; with those, it was Saturday morning whenever I said so, homie.

Though my fondness for the songs grew steadily throughout those heady 6th grade days, it wasn't until a chance encounter with MTV changed everything. was a huge MTV mark in those days; I figured that, since it was my only obvious gateway to the world of "cool", I should make it my duty to watch as much Real World: London and Buzzkill as possible. Anyway, unbeknownst to me, MTV loved Schoolhouse Rock!, too. Upon the release of Atlantic's Schoolhouse Rock! Rocks, the network commissioned a special half-hour block of videos that paired the original animation with its updated music track. When I first saw these videos, I was blown away. I mean, here were cool kid bands like Blind Melon and the Lemonheads, singing my songs. It was almost too much to handle. For once, I felt like I had the drop on the hipsters, with Skee-Lo and Pavement backing me up.

Though I loved the songs, I never actually bought the CD when it came out. I'm not even sure why. Probably figured that, since I hadn't heard of most of the bands, I wouldn't like their songs. That was, of course, folly. However, 10 years and some file sharing later, I can finally put the debate to rest: this compilation is amazingly fresh. There really, truly, isn't a lame track, which is a testament to both the performers' love of the material and the songwriting skills of songwriters Bob Dorough, Lynn Ahrens, George Newall, and David Frishberg. If you remember these songs fondly at all, check out this CD. I'm sure at least one of the tracks will bring back memories that mean something. Amazon has copies starting at $2.49 used; even Andy Butler couldn't scoff at that price.

Moby - Verb (That's What's Happening!). Before Moby's celeb cred blew up like a Thanksgiving balloon, he was still pretty awesome. Witness the way he turned this song, whose original incarnation was awash in unfortunate disco-soul grooves and Shaft-level backup voacls, into a pounding cut that could probably slip into club rotation today without feeling totally out of place.

Skee-Lo - The Tale of Mr. Morton. Oh man, Skee-Lo. What a guy you are. Most famous these days as an answer in a one-hit wonders trivia game, the man responsible for "I Wish" turns in a surprisingly effective performance on this song. I always identified with Mr. Morton. I mean, at heart, we're both just shy dudes who like cats and poetry. As Skee-Lo will tell you, you gotta respect that. Songs like this are probably the reason I was an English major.

Pavement - No More Kings. Most people write this song off as the worst on the comp, but I tend to disagree. True, it does sound like a Pavement song, but since when is that a) out of the ordinary or b) a bad thing? Instead of rehashing the original version of their given song (I'm looking at you, Man or Astro-man?), Pavement actually turns their contribution into something that's actually on par with most of their later work.

BONUS: Biz Markie - The Energy Blues. Since the planet seems to be trying to burn us alive as payback for our collective industrial transgressions, I thought this song seemed like an appropriate listen. Plus, who doesn't love the Biz?

Part One of my Pitchfork Music Festival preview comes up tomorrow, so come back! You might like it.

Frustrated, Incorporated.

2006-07-22T00:09:00.000-04:00

Live from Peoria, and nothing/everything is different. Sitting outside, lit by Christmas lights and drinking a beer, I had to laugh like hell.

In lighter news, I saw Clerks II this afternoon, and the verdict is in: at the end of the day, I’m still a Kevin Smith fanboy. Double kudos for making the new additions to the cast (Rosario Dawson, Trevor Fehrman) just as endearing as the originals.

Smoosh - Free To Stay. On my most recent trip to Co-Op, I picked up the latest disc from Smoosh, the friendliest almost-preteen pop duo this side of Eyeball Skeleton. Sadly, this isn’t the novelty act you might expect; these girls are as legit as they come. As their first release on Washington indie stalwart Barsuk reveals, Smoosh has both the heart and the sound to make a serious impression on their elders. Personally, I wish I could get as much out of a keyboard and drums as these two do on Free To Stay. Recommended if you like the Ditty Bops, jailbait, and self-confidence.

Smoosh - Clap On. If the opening salvo of handclaps and key peals doesn’t bore its way directly into your skull, we’re not friends anymore.

With ninjas!

2006-07-19T21:57:00.000-04:00

Half One:

Half Two:

So, I'm terribly in love with the TV show seen above. It's called Pythagoras Switch, and it's basically Sesame Street's hip Japanese cousin. I stumbled upon it last week while exploring my new favorite blog, TV in Japan, and frankly, I couldn't be happier. In the few episodes I've seen, there have been more endearing moments than I can count... almost. In the interests of science and contradiction, here's a list of the five best things about Pythagoras Switch so far:

5) Televi-John. At the beginning of each episode, viewers are treated to the most overtly education segments of the entire show. It basically consists of two penguin kid-puppets getting schooled by an anthropomorphic book. Normally, since most people already have the basic post-six-year-old knowledge of, for instance, how a telephone works, this would normally be considered the worst part of the show. However, midway through the lesson, that rakish individual on the far left steps in to save the entire segment: Televi-John. Charged with supplimenting Uncle Book's lesson with some snazzy video graphics, John enters with a jaunty fanfare and a saucy flip of the ears. He seems to be some kind of sentient television/dog hybrid; I'm not real sure on the specifics. The one thing I do know is that Johnny easily dethrones my Hello Kitty waffle iron as the most adorable appliance I've ever seen.

4) Father Switch. Call me a sap, but there's nothing more heartwarming than seeing dads goof around with their kids and, as you can see in this clip, this certainly qualifies as goofy. Plus, anything that encourages people to play pretend/act like robots is just fine in my book. 50 points to anyone else who thought about creating one of those boxes for perverted use with a significant other. I know I can't be alone.

3) The Rube Goldberg bumps. These things are amazing. They're like Mousetrap on steroids. I was talking about these with Becky, and we agree: if we could get paid to make these for a living, we would.

2) Framy. Man, this list is quickly turning into a lovefest for imaginary dogs. For a cartoon made up of nothing more than boxes of varying sizes, Framy is quite the charmer. His segments seem to revolve around the day-to-day adventures of a family dog. In the episode I saw, Framy's brother Spotty takes care of the baby, plays the piano, and gives up his cheese dinner to a needy family of mice. What a guy. Plus, I've had the music from that bit stuck in my head ever since I heard it. It's just... bouncy.

1) Algorithm March. Oh my. I mean, what can I say? My words are insufficient. I just can't. Just... just watch again.

I can't get enough. If you feel the same, some quick searching on Youtube should yield enough results to keep you entertained. You can also check out Dattebayo Fansubs' translation project at their website.

Hinterlander - Cake to Burn. Like Pythagoras Switch, Hinterlander is a pleasant surprise from the Pacific Ocean. In this case, the point of origin is Hawaii, and songwriter Heidi Nelms. Described as Miss Nelms' "musical shelter", Hinterlander offers listeners tenderly drowsy folk songs that avoid the deliberate oddness of Johanna Newsome as well as the affected cheekiness of acts like the Ditty Bops. The tracks on the band's latest album, 2005's Minikin, fuzz in and out of consciousness, held together primarily by Nelms' siren vocals. I just got ahold of this one last week, and I'm kicking myself for not tracking it down sooner. If you missed this one the first time around, too, do yourself a favor and track it down. If you're not satisfied, you can punch me in the stomach*.

(*Me=Mike Hannemann.)

Hinterlander - Sweet Milk. The thing that first struck me about Hinterlander's work was the apparent incongruity of their songs' sound and the geographical location in which they were produced. While the album certainly exudes a kind of flowery warmth, it's certainly far from the tropical expectation that pop into one's head when the word "Hawaii" comes up. As usual, this is just another example of my occasionally-glaring lack of information. Not only has Hinterlander been leading the charge for the Aloha State's indie music scene since 1998, but the band's label, Skinny Chest, has been helping like-minded artists do the same for just as long. Be a cool kid; check 'em out.

Love plus one.

2006-07-16T23:07:00.000-04:00

I've had company throughout the weekend, so updates have been understandably sparse. Expect a return to form in the coming week, including exciting news out of Interview-Land and music that was actually produced recently.

With that in mind, here are another couple of "slick traxx" from the vault that is my laptop.

Haircut 100 - 40-40 Home. During my New Wave phase in high school, I learned the hard truth about the careers of some of my favorite bands: once the singles stopped coming, so did the support. This type of dog-eat-dog competition for radio slots resulted in tons of one-hit wonders and even more then-undiscovered classics. Take, for example, Haircut 100. Most people (and by "most people", I mean "casual 80s enthusiasts/pop culture types") know the band for its first release, Pelican West; usually described as being too effervescent for its own good, the album is most known for the single featured in the video above. However, I always thought the band had more potential than they had the chance to exhibit. Combining cleancut United Colors of Benetton good looks with jazzy synth pop, they had all the makings of rising stars... except, however, for a stable frontman. Vocalist Nick Heyward (who did a smashing Morrissey impersonation three years before Moz himself hit the scene) bolted from the band just after Pelican West dropped in 1982, leaving the rest of the band to the task of crafting an appropriate sequal. The result, 1984's Paint and Paint, featured percussionist Mark Fox on vocals, but, despite featuring uptempo radio tracks like this one, failed to deliver on the promise of its predecessor. The band folded soon after, while Heyward enjoyed middling success as a solo artist.

Haircut 100 - Prime Time. Here's a tantalizing bit of information culled from the band's Wikipedia entry:

"In 2004, all of the group's ex-members reunited for an episode of VH1's series Bands Reunited. The group has seriously discussed the idea of reuniting to record a new album, with Heyward being quoted as saying 'We're all older and have commitments, but wouldn't it be good to dedicate two weeks of our lives to creating a follow-up to Pelican West. It would have that magic because nobody as a player has gone off the boil.'"

Let's just hope any reunion recording is more Mission of Burma and less Duran Duran.

My name is Jonas.

2006-07-13T21:07:00.000-04:00

Well, another icon of my youth has bitten the dust. According to everyone's favorite British music rag, Weezer may be headed for the big comic book convention in the sky. On Tuesday, NME.com reported that Rivers Cuomo, the oft-frustrating front man of everyone's favorite love-or-hate power pop group, told MTV that the band is on hiatus and that he's "not certain we'll ever make a record again". Cuomo went on to say that, though he's been writing songs over the course of the past year, his own solo career is also on hold.

Though widely derided for last year's abysmal Make Believe, Weezer still holds a place of distinction for even the snobbiest of indie fans. For many of those in my age bracket, Weezer (along with, perhaps, Green Day) was probably the first "alternative" group to really connect with us. I can still remember watching MTV when "Buddy Holly" came out and thinking, "Dang, I may be in 4th grade, but I know catchiness when I hear it". And, amazingly, I was right, and the love affair was on.

Over the years, my affinity for Weezer has gone through ebbs and crests. The summer after I graduated from high school, I discovered Pinkerton by way of a worn cassette tape in the console of Andy Butler's car, and suddenly found myself with an entirely new collections of music to pine by. I'm not sure that tape left the player that summer. One night in particular stand out in memory. Andy and I sat parked outside the house of the girl he was after at that time. He wasn't alone in that venture; on that night, his competition had beaten us to the punch. It was around dusk, just reaching the point where the sight of two men sitting parked in a residential neighborhood goes from "acceptable" to "call the cops". Since we'd always erred on the side of the latter, we killed the lights and waited. I'm not sure what we thought we could accomplish there, sitting in a dead car listening to "Tired of Sex" while Andy's prospective beloved was being wooed by another man on the other side of the wall, but somehow, we knew it was the closest thing to an appropriate response we could muster.

College marked the beginning of my turn away from Cuomo and his music. After two successful album releases in 2001 and 2002, Weezer was everywhere by the time I got to Bradley. I was a DJ that fall, and in that crowd, anything popular was regarded as either passé or ironic. Weezer fell into the second category. As I hurried to increase my credibility, I shied away from the songs I loved the most in public while listening fervently in private. At least, that's how it began. Over time and countless new records, my defenses fell. I began to listen to better bands, groups with better lyrical chops and more varied instrumental tendencies. Instead of Weezer, I could now go to the Smiths for angsty romanticism, or the Pixies for ballsy rockers. Weezer's actions didn't help much either: Cuomo's bitchy aloofness made the group very hard to like. While I wasn't as elitist as some of my fellow radio staffers, I was convinced that the first band to "get" me didn't really get much of anything.

Of course, in the last few years, Weezer and I came to an uneasy truce. Though I wasn’t able to overlook things like this little number, I’ve realized that, cool or not, Weezer’s music was the soundtrack of a key time in my life. They gave me tons of memories, and for that, I salute them.

When the band reunites for an album by the end of the year, please disregard this entry.

Weezer – Mo’ Beats. There was a time when Weezer still had a sense of humor. Before Rivers Cuomo’s spiritual awakening/self-imposed celibacy, the band could crank out a smirking, self-referential tune with the best of them. Exhibit A: this track, culled from the band’s numerous unreleased demos. One listen will have you yearning for the days when Cuomo’s cockiness was entertaining instead of self-aggrandizing.

Weezer – Suzanne. There’s something about songs named after girls. This one, featured on the Mallrats soundtrack, hits all the right highs: a chugging chorus, yearning lyrics, and a reference to Guns ‘n Roses.

Dirty Dog! Cool Cat! Chicky Baby!

2006-07-11T23:04:00.000-04:00

Last week, I promised to share some of the tunes that I purchased at Luna Music over the Fourth of July weekend. After a week and a half of off-and-on forgetfulness, trashed cars, and many cups of coffee, I'm finally ready to get down to business. Short, sweet, and to the point; that's how we aim to do things.

Also, Pee-Wee on Adult Swim? Best idea ever.

Shonen Knife - Under My Pillow. Generally speaking, the girls of Shonen Knife tend to divide more than unite. Strictly speaking, you're either hip to their infectious, J-Pop-by-way-of-Motown-and-Wesley-Willis slices of observationalism, or you hate puppies. You know, whichever. All kidding aside, after 25 years of producing music together, the girls seem happy with their roles as the journeywomen of Japanese rock. Their newest release, Genki Shock!, is the first since the death of drummer Mana Nishiura, and reveals, through tracks like this, that there's more to Shonen Knife that just sunshine, lollipops and rainbows. On this track, it is uncertainty, not joy, that creeps onto the nighttime scene. However, as is the case with most of lyricist Naoko Yamano compositions, things never get too scary; in the end, all it takes to vanquish the demons is a lucky charm under the pillow. If only the real world matched that of Shonen Knife's eternally hopeful Pollyannas. Genki Shock! is available through the Glue Factory.

BONUS: Shonen Knife - Heatwave (Martha and the Vandellas cover). The perfect summer song, and one of my absolute favorite covers of all-time. This is the sound of pop perfected. Find more like it on Shonen Knife's aptly-titled rarities compilation, The Birds and the B-Sides.

Gal thinks Jim Beam is handsomer than Lad.

2006-07-10T16:53:00.000-04:00

I'm back in Kokomo, sans car and the $400 spent on repairs. Apparently, my shifting system was the true culprit; I never did like that bastard. I'm without a vehicle until Thursday, so I have to make due with non-traveling entertainment until then.

Spending the weekend without a car was actually kind of relaxing. I've spent most of my time going from A to B this summer, so spending a few days of forced hermit duty was just what the doctor ordered. Most of my time was occupied by the conclusion of the World Cup. After watching Germany fall on Tuesday, I wasn't too thrilled to see my boys in the third place game. However, all of that changed when Oliver Kahn took the field for Die Nationalelf. As many of you may know, I have something of a big-boy crush on Kahn, and getting to see him perform on an international stage one last time only intensified my passionate, confusing love. After Germany spanked Portugal 3-1 to take the figurative bronze, I figured that I'd seen the last satisfying/exciting event of my World Cup. As you can now imagine, I was quite unprepared for this:

Now, let me state this for the record: after Germany, my favorite football team (USA aside, for obvious reasons) is probably France. With that said, I can honestly say that Zidane's headbutt was probably one of the most badass, flagrantly awesome things that I've ever seen at a sporting event. You can talk all you want about sportsmanship and losing your cool, but consider this: Zidane opened the fight with a headbutt to the chest . Imagine what his extended offense might've done to Materazzi, whose diving performance was worthy of any natatorium. Sure, Italy won the World Cup, barely, and with France missing three starters. I'm sure they feel good. However, Zidane now has the chance to attain the kind of cult adoration that transcends his own sport, much like his headbutt-wielding countryman on the left:

(Side note: both Zinedine Zidane and Andre the Giant are of French descent, which makes the headbutt France's only candidate for Official National Street Fight Move. A penny to anyone who can come up with some more nation/move pairings.)

All in all, it was a fitting end to a World Cup that saw a record number of red and yellow cards thrown. Congratulations to the Azzurri, and we'll see you in 2010.

Wilco - Impossible Germany (Live). With the end of Germany's World Cup in mind, here's an aptly named new track from everybody's favorite introspective Chicagoans. I tracked this down on Obner.org, but was hesitant at first. When it comes to Wilco, I can be pretty fickle. Summerteeth hooked me with its warm melancholia, while Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's tender mix of desolation and hopefulness convinced me that there might actually be something to all this Jeff Tweedy hype. But then, two years ago, along came A Ghost Is Born, which often sounded like Wilco's attempt to out-Radiohead Radiohead in terms of testing audience expectations. It was a boring, often lifeless record that came out at a time when I was looking for less of the first and more of the second. Flash forward two years, and to the new batch of tracks being tested out by Wilco at live dates (like this one, in Chapel Hill), and it looks like things might've changed for the better. Free from the draining musical frustration of their last album, Wilco marries the disheartened combination of personal loss and international paranoia found on YHF with the jammy, Americana-tinged pop of its earlier albums. In short, I'm getting excited; Jeff Tweedy might be relevant after all.

Wilco - Either Way (Live). A nice, simple country song about lovers about to part for good. Tweedy's lyrics, when combined with touches of organ and steel guitar, call to mind the ghosts of early Nashville. Passages like "maybe you still love me/ and maybe you don't/ maybe you will or won't/ maybe you just need some time alone/ I will understand/ that everything has it's plan" rend the same heartstrings they'll eventually comfort.

Wilco - Is That The Thanks I Get? (Live). The emotions played upon by Wilco's final new song are polar opposites of the sentiments found above. Here, love isn't about fucking around and quitting; instead, the narrator is in this one for the long haul. He notes that "we can make it better/ let's pull ourselves together/ and start it again". Instead of a crestfallen paean to staying together, this song stands up with the confidence necessary to actually affect some change. Really, that's what real relationships are all about. Also, I'd give $5 to see the move Tweedy's talking about during his stage banter.

so good i thought twice about sharing it.

2006-07-09T12:46:00.000-04:00

but then i remembered that sharing is good. i think. didn't they always say to share the tonka truck in the sandbox? anyways - aberfeldy's do whatever turns you on. this is the sophomore attempt from scotland's aberfeldy. i only heard the single "love is an arrow" from their last album young forever, which i particularly liked. the video is cute, too.

ok, right off the bat, i am not even joking that their latest outing is probably one of the best pop records i've heard...especially on first listen. the first 3/4 of the record is simply amazing, with melodies that rival anything schlessinger or gibbard has thrown down. the last quarter of the record slows down a bit, but it's by no means bad, i guess it's a bit hard to write 12 perfect pop songs...though aberfeldy has managed to do at least 8 with this record.

so this will sound like my other reviews, 'cause i'm too lazy to think of any words synonymous with "good" and "great." but basically, the vocals and harmonies are great, and the hard panning of them is very very....um...good. more? um, think belle and sebastian meets fountains of wayne meets a casiotone.

aberfeldy - uptight
the track i'm gonna put on the blog, though, is the 4th one, not the single, though it might as well be one. it's called uptight, and it brings back some keyboard sounds that you probably thought died in the 80s. early 80s. um, what else can i say....verses are just as good as the chorus...which pretty much makes for a disgustingly sweet pop song.

go to town, NOW. and...well...try not to share the record with too many people, ok?

they say california is a recipe for a black hole

2006-07-08T16:02:00.000-04:00

hello again-- it's janelle, returning by popular demand (or.. by tyler's polite request). before i mention the theme of this update, i should explain something: i've always had a bit of an... antagonistic relationship with girl musicians. not that i think all girl musicians are bad- it's my firm belief that any girl my age who says she doesn't listen to fiona apple is either lying or stupid- i've just never been one for estrogen-heavy lyrics or whiny girl vocals (testosterone-heavy and whiny boy vocals are much more my speed, thanks).

with that said, there are some girl musicians that i deeply admire. and so, i present the theme of this update: girl musicians i would gladly switch teams for.

3. tracyanne campbell

so, have you all been listening to camera obscura for years and just hiding it from me? because, dudes. that's so uncool. anyways, guitarist/vocalist tracyanne is about as cute as a goddamn button. and i love her singing in "lloyd, i'm ready to be heartbroken," but for me nothing compares to one of the two U.S.-only tracks from 2003's underachievers please try harder.

"i don't want to see you" is a low-key, simple piano-and-guitar ballad. the entire song is fantastic, but really, it won me over from the very first lines: "i can't believe that i'm writing this down / and i can't believe i've got you in a song / i don't want to be a whining girl / i'd rather not be in your world," tracyanne sings with a bit of a tremble in her voice, and if you think i don't know how that feels, well... hi. do i know you?

song: camera obscura - i don't want to see you.

2. rachel bowman

rachel is the cellist for one of my more recent discoveries, some by sea. i first heard of some by sea when i saw them play live with the posies in october. so, obviously, i was predisposed to like them. i just wasn't prepared to like them as much as i do. there are three main reasons for my love:

a.) nothing says 'janelle' quite like 'cello-driven indie pop/rock.' and this really is cello-driven-- lots of bands use a cello, but choose to use it as just melancholy background noise. some by sea has cello parts that dance around the basslines and drumbeats and sleighbells (yes, sleighbells), and i like that.

b.) lyrics. this band has fantastic lyrics. long-winded, carefully constructed, and almost always with some emotional punch. my favorite example: "it puts me in my place to know that you can make me feel just like a kid with half a line in this season's latest cancellation." sigh.

c. ) they have a cellist, and she's kinda hot. seriously.

song: some by sea - a night without a cineplex.

1. jenny lewis

i mean, come on. raise your hand if you wouldn't make out with jenny lewis.... that's what i thought. anyways, i apparently like redheads (which, yes, i find humorous on levels i can't even begin to explain).

there are about a million songs i could link here to explain my love for jenny-- "i never" or "pictures of success" or "you are what you love" or... you get the idea. what's particularly brilliant about her, i think, is her versatility-- she can go from completely vulnerable to kickass in, oh... five seconds, sometimes less. so, jenny? call me. i'll hug you when you're sad and help you beat people up when you're angry. and i swear i'll never even mention that time you totally tried to make out with fred savage.

song: jenny lewis and the watson twins - melt your heart (live).

Are you a bug, Bill Murray?

2006-07-06T11:58:00.000-04:00

So, I'm trapped in Bloomington. Literally. My car is spectacularly broken, for no reason other than the fact that it's in league with demons. I had to rip the key out of the ignition, which is still technically turned on. Shifting gears is, at this point, only a lovely suggestion. In short: fuck.

Regular updates will resume whenever I can get back to Kokomo. As for today, we're going to take a trip into the bowels of a truly hateful place: Andy Butler's computer.

Arrah and the Ferns - Emo Philips. I suspect that Andy got this track from Drew, if only because a) it's in a folder marked "songs sent", suggesting that it's from a place most foreign, b) Arrah and the Ferns are from Muncie, which is Drew's current stomping ground, and c) the song is nothing like anything Butler would ever listen to on purpose. For some reason, when I think of music blogging, I think of songs like this: ironic, self-effacing, and yet full of a wistful sense of heart. From the obligatory MySpace references to the slightly melancholy, off-kilter female vocals, this is twee at its finest. Arrah and the Ferns are on Indiana's own Standard Recording Company. Their debut album, Evan is a Vegan, comes out July 22nd. For $9, you'd have to be pretty heinous not to check it out.

I'm a backgammon man.

2006-07-04T15:34:00.000-04:00

Though there's still some time left in this year's Fourth of July weekend, the steady drizzle that's been falling since last night means that we've probably seen the best of the festivities already. However, after the hustle and bustle of this past weekend, the rest is actually welcome.

Friday, I headed south for the United States Grand Prix, the second half of the Formula 1's North American leg hosted at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Becky and her family had tickets to the race, and the chance to attend my first proper race in Indianapolis was too good to pass up.

A trip to Indy also meant another conquest of Luna Music, the spoils of which you'll experience in updates later this week. Since I had lots of time to kill before meeting up with Becky, I spent a good hour or so combing the shelves for potential must-buys. I also dropped more money on senseless plastic sculptures. I am very weak.

As far as the racing itself was concerned, the weekend had its highs and lows. When I arrived at the Speedway on Saturday, I decided to adopt Renault as my team based on a scientific analysis of relative design attractiveness. Say what you will about their policies or drivers, but Renault has some sharp-looking merchandise. The fact that they're the defending champions of both the Constructors and (via Fernando Alonso) Drivers Championships didn't hurt their appeal, either. Unfortunately, my support wasn't enough to keep Michael Shumacher and Ferrari away from Victory Lane. That guy's quite a piece of work. After such a disappointment, only the deliciousness of the grilled tenderloins at Union Jack was enough to salvage the day. Ah well. I guess there's always Magny-Cours.

All hyperbole aside, my first U.S. Grand Prix was a fine introduction to the world of Formula 1. It was telling that the only assholes that I ran into all weekend were Americans. To the yuppie knobs talking shit about the Midwest in the Speedway Museum: go ahead and fuck right off. If Indianapolis' woeful backwardness offends your sensibilities so much, watch the race on Speed. You could see more, sweat less, and piss off fewer bloggers. I mean, far be it from me to absolve Indiana from mockery. However, if you're going to do it, you might as well get a little creative. Take, for instance, soft drink company Red Bull, which owns two F1 teams and is on record in its support of returning a carefree attitude to the sport. At races, they publish and distribute the Red Bulletin, billed as the "almost independent newspaper" of the F1 community, during each day of the event. In the editions I received, Indiana and its speedway culture took some good-natured barbs; then again, so did almost everyone else. These commentaries were without the vitriol and, since they came in a package that was both attractive and free, gave us all something to do during down times in the action. In short, if you're going to bitch, either do it with a smile or save it for the ride back to the hotel.

Travis Morrison - 16 Types of People. Whenever I'm on the road and away from the most sources of music, I always rely on what I have on hand. This usually means fiilling a travel wallet with 20 or so sure-fire discs. However, on occasion, I eschew CDs in favor of a far more entertaining source of tunes: my laptop. Allow me to explain. When I purchased my laptop from Apple in 2002, I fully intended to use it as my primary computer. However, a mix-up landed me with an extra desktop unit that ended up taking over the top spot from my Mac. Thus, in the years since then, the laptop has become a highly priced storage unit, holding all of the stray files and documents that, for whatever reason, no longer exist on any of my other computers. These include all of the vital files from my freshman year of college, saved from the school computer that I used that year. Going through all of that stuff is a nice trip back through a time capsule of a certain period, and a killer way to kill time on the road. It also provides tons of the oh-shit-no-way moments that only come when you rediscover something you used to like. Such is the case with this song, released by former Dismemberment Plan frontman Travis Morrison on his website in 2003. The track, along with the next one, offered fans their first glimpse of what a post-Plan Morrison could sound like. At that time, the indication was that things wouldn't change all that much. Chilled out and hooky, Morrison's popcraft shines through the same glitchy weirdness found on the Plan's late albums. There was no indication that Morrison's new stuff wouldn't continue to sound like a natural extension of Change. It certainly didn't prepare us for Travistan, which ruffled certain cynical feathers despite its undeniable, if goofy, charm. In the end, this song, along with the proceeding track, served not as signposts but as rest stops, bridging the gap between Morrison's days with the Plan and his new solo career.

Travis Morrison - Checkers and Chess. Morrison's latest entry on his website details his humorously harrowing experience with a unhinged atheist while riding Washington D.C.'s Metro system. It's the latest in his long line of witty meanderings, and proves one thing that often goes underemphasized when talking about the Dismemberment Plan's music: Travis Morrison is one funny motherfucker. Sure, the vocals soar and howl, the guitars snarl, and the rhythm section drops the funk like any good disciples of go-go would; however, the real appeal of many Morrison-penned songs is the wryness and humor of their lyrics. In this demo, Morrison demonstrates exactly what I mean. Over looped synths that sound like something straight out of a Strong Bad e-mail, Morrison talks about nothing in particular, and does so in a way that'll have you hitting the "Repeat" button against your will.

Over and over.

2006-06-29T23:41:00.000-04:00

Things have fallen into a comfortable rut. I'm unremarkable once more.

I need to write a poem.

Also, Mike Hannemann owes me a Coke.

Patrick and Eugene - The Birds and the Bees. In this brave new world, I watch an unhealthy amount of television. Along the way, I see an even unhealthier amount of commercials. Sometimes, though, they're not so bad. Take, for example, the new spot for Volkswagen's relaunch of the Rabbit brand. What would normally be dismissed as a relatively unremarkable, if cheeky, attempt to jazz up an unremarkable, if cheeky, line of cars morphs into a winking ode to irresponsible merry-making with the simple inclusion of the track found above. Recorded in 2004 by British fusion duo Patrick and Eugene, the song, with its old timey vocals, plinky banjo, and mischevious trumpet/sax combo, has seen its fair share of duty in the commercial wars. To date, "The Birds and the Bees" has appeared in advertisements for Gordon's Gin, Payless Shoes, and now Volkswagen. Whether or not quirky pop music actually helps companies sell gin, shoes or cars, the song does make me want to strip to the waist and roll around in the grass. You know, for what that's worth.

Here's the ad, for those who haven't seen it, along with a couple of other amusing entries from (or, in the case of the second, on behalf of) everyone's favorite Führer-sponsored automobile company:

Rabbit:

Terror:

Stinky Chair:

Bollocks:

Pink Moon:

With those in mind, here are...these!

BONUS: Trio - Da Da Da I Don't Love You You Don't Love Me Aha Aha Aha. Like high school drama practice all over again. This one's gonna be stuck in our head for a while. Your welcome.

DOUBLE BONUS: Nick Drake - Pink Moon. Man... now that's wistful.

Ready to be heartbroken.

2006-06-28T02:01:00.000-04:00

I was halfway through the Smokey Mountains when I realized what I'd forgotten. For anyone who doesn't know by now, last week was my summer vacation. The fam and I, along with my illustrious compatriots from the B-Squad, made the annual trek down to the Gulf of Mexico for a week of sun, surf, and red algae. Seriously. The stuff was everywhere.

Aside from the overabundance of certain sea flora, it was a relaxing week. We split our time between the World Cup in the morning and seeing the sights of South Florida in the evening. Here's a list of highlights, complete with links where applicable:

- Naples Winery. The finest vineyard in the state, and the only one authorized by the Florida government itself. We snagged a bottle of the Orange Blossom Honey Wine during a trip to their store at Tin City, and deemed it worthy. If you're a fan of any variety of fruit wines, be sure to check out the site above, as they ship all across the country (even to the oft-frozen wastes that are the Great Lakes states).

- Wooten's Everglades Airboat Tours . You know all of those stereotypically seedy, unintelligible fanboat operators that you see in swamp-based movies? Well, they're real, and they work at Wooten's. In all seriousness, if you've never been on an airboat tour in the Everglades, you owe yourself to check it out before its too late.

- The Cigar Hut. If our condo had been closer, I'm pretty sure I would've spent most of the week at the Cigar Hut. Ft. Myers Beach's only tobaccanist is right along the main drag, yet it always manages to maintain a distinctly local feel. We paid the Hut a visit on three occasions during the week, and each time the same guys were there, occupying the same chairs, smoking the same cigars, and having the same laughs as the time before. All things considered, it was refreshingly inviting, but that might just be the Macanudos talking.

- Sanibel-Captiva. We stay in Ft. Myers Beach when we go to Florida, but we always get sick of the tourist trap atmosphere that pervades the length of Estero Boulevard. Our escape traditionally came in the form of Sanibel and Captiva, two islands that, though nearby, managed to escape the overdevelopment of their neightbors. However, since our last visit in 2004, the twins had suffered major damage at the hands of Hurricane Charley, so our return was tempered with nervousness. Fortunaely, our fears were mostly allayed: while much of the natural greenery that gave the island its secluded charm has been blown away, our favorite man-made landmarks remain intact. These include Huxter's Liquors (which may have the coolest name I've ever heard for a purveyor of sin and vice), Matzaluna (try the escargot), and the Mucky Duck (check out hurricane pics here).

We started the drive home Saturday, finished Sunday, and took Monday and Tuesday off for decompression. Regular updates resume now, and begin with the Florida-related pair of songs that follow.

Chocolate U.S.A. - Bookbag. When it came time to find a Florida band for the update, I was almost stumped. Fortunately for me, fate decided to smile on me, finally willing Soulseek to produce results for this early-90s twee gem. Formed as Miss America in 1989 when most of its members were still in high school, Chocolate U.S.A. combined the psych-revival sensibilities of the community that would become the Elephant 6 Collective with equal parts grunge crunch and shoegazing swirl. The band was also multi-instrumentalist Julian Koster's first musical playground. On 1993's Smoke Machine, Koster (who would go onto greater acclaim as a member of both the Olivia Tremor Control and Neutral Milk Hotel) proves that he's also a capable frontman, turning out tracks with all the imprecise charm of a lopsided grin. The fact that the group only produced one proper album is, if not an out-and-out travesty, certainly unfortunate.

Guster - Satellite. And now, I present the official soundtrack of my vacation. Of the five CDs I bought last week (Mel Tormé, Hot Chip, Minus the Bear, Sun Kil Moon and Guster), only the last one stuck with me over more than one initial listen. I'm not sure what it is about the boys from Boston's new one, Ganging Up On The Sun, but it's latched itself to my brain and won't let go. The album reflects on isolation, desire, and that uncomfortable feeling that arises when you realize that you're just not comfortable anymore. This track, which is about as radio-ready as they come, compares the speaker's lover (or ex-lover) to a satellite: always around, always present, always unreachable. Remarkably, the sad realization brings more comfort than it banishes. That may be what makes the album click.

BONUS: Guster - One Man Wrecking Machine. There's a rueful sense humor on this album, one which pushes through the best on this track. As the singer reflects on revisiting the people, places, and ideas of youth, and the chorus hooks you by the bottom lip, you might get the feeling that this song does in four minutes what Garden State did in two hours. Then again, you might not. Your call.

If you like what you hear from Guster, then buy their album. As far as other tracks go, I recommend the single, "Manifest Destiny", which can be found at respectable blogs like Loudersoft. Enjoy, and see you tomorrow.

Oceanographer

2006-06-22T16:42:00.000-04:00

last night i found time to order a cd online, and i thought i'd share the purchase with you. I don't have much to say, cuz i'm lazy and really just want to update, but this music is great. chill, very indie, great melodies, great guitar lines, etc. the usual that makes up a great band.

Oceanographer - Cartographer
the kind of music you'd want in-between bands at a loud rock show. it wouldn't put you to sleep watching, but you could rock it on the pod before bed. enjoy. oh, the record [on leaping from airplanes is the title] is only 10 bucks shipped from their website , so you should totally buy it.

Beckenbauer? Beckenbauer!

2006-06-15T02:29:00.000-04:00

Part I - Equipo

Part II - Partido

Those two commercials have actually been two of the major highlights of ESPN 2's occasionally lackluster World Cup coverage. On the whole, things aren't that bad, but if I have to sit through many more matches called by Dave O'Brien and Marcelo Balboa, I may have to take drastic, undesirable action. Great acquisition on O'Brien, ESPN/ABC. Really choice. Fuckers. The David-Messing pairing runs a close second on the badness scale. If it wasn't for the occasional match handled by Adrian Healy and Tommy Smyth, I'd probably just watch with the sound off.

All complaints aside, the first round of group play has offered plenty of exciting moments. Here's my top five.

5) Furia Roja's Statement Game - On Wednesday, Spain silenced all doubts about its mindset coming into group play. A traditional underachiever in early games, the Spaniards exploded in a blast of fiery offense and cunning defense, slapping around Ukraine in a 4-0 drubbing. An added bonus of this game: with their defeat, the Ukranian squad replaced the United States as the current tournament cellar dweller.

4) Germany's Wild Ride - Germany's Wednesday night game against Poland had it all: grudges fueled by events both on and off the field, pre-game hooligan clashes, and some of the most exciting near-miss offense that the competition has seen thus far. During one attempted socring drive, the Germans were beaten by the corssbar not once, but twice. As time expired, the Poles, coming off of the Day 1 shocker against Ecuador, thought they had escaped Dortmund with a draw, but it was not to be. In the third minute of stoppage time, German sub Oliver Neuville slipped one past Artu Borac, ending the game and Poland's dreams of a second round appearance.

3) Battle For The Desert - So far, Wednesday has been my favorite day as far as overall action is concerened, and it's not hard to see why. Wednesday's thriller between Germany and Poland was only the second most impressive ending of the day. The first came during the second match, a game that matched the powerful (and highly paid) Saudis against Tunisia. As the last African country to start group play, Tunisia was the continent's last chance for a first-game victory. Though the former French colony led for most of the game, a late breakaway by Sami al-Jaber in the 84th minute gave the Saudis the lead and the game... or so it seemed. In the 3rd minute of stoppage, Tunisian Radhi Jaidi headed in a brilliant equalizing goal, stealing the win from Saudi Arabia and earning Africa its first point of group play.

2) Aussie, Aussie, Aussie - Monday, I only cared about one match: the USA's opener against the Czech Republic. Having spent the weekend partying with Mike Hannemann (Homer Glen, IL's own master of debauchery), I knew I'd need a good night's sleep in order to catch the game at my freshest. So, Sunday night, I set my alarm for 10:30 and hit the sack. In the morning, I woke up, ate a hearty breakfast, and settled in for what I thought would be an inspiring victory. After I stationed myself on Mike's couch, I called my friend Randy to see what was up. This game was the first thing he mentioned. Japan, after going up 1-0 in the first half, spent most of the game locking down the Socceroos defensively. The Aussies, who had never scored a goal in their entire World Cup history (1974's squad lost to East and West Germany and tied Chile 0-0), looked poised to continue their not-so-winning ways. However, once Tim Cahill broke the curse thanks to a well-timed blunder by Japan's keeper, the Aussies were ready to shine. In the end, the Australians scored not one, or two, but three goals, all of which came after the 80th minute. They now find themselves the centers of attention in a Group F that includes perennial favorite Brazil and former Cinderella Croatia. Not bad for the land down under. Not bad at all.

1) The Soca Warriors! - Teams like Trinadad and Tobago are tough to read. On the one hand, they're easy to doubt: this squad represents the smallest country ever to qualify for the World Cup, and is set as a 750-1 longshot to win it all. However, on the other hand, their natural grit, determination, and happy-to-be-here attitude renders them a likeable (and dangerous) underdog. No one knows this better than Sweden, who felt the brunt of the Soca Warriors pluckiness in their 0-0 draw on Saturday. While both teams played hard, Trinidad and Tobago manage to win by not losing, earning a point thanks to the Herculean talent of their goalkeeper Shaka Hislop. At time, Hislop (who wasn't even slated to start) played like a man possessed, blocking assault on his teams goal by a Swedish team that grew progressively more desperate as the afternoon wore on. TnT face England on Thursday, a game that will likely end their hopes of advancing. However, no matter what the outcome, for the fans of Trinidad and Tobago, this World Cup is already one worthy of remembrance.

I'll be popping up periodically to offer more thoughts on the World Cup as it happens. If anyone else is as into this as I am, may I recommend a companion: The Thinking Fan's Guide to the World Cup. Designed as a companion to this year's tournament, the book features literate, witty, and often thought-provoking musings about soccer and its place in the global community in the form of short essays about each of the tournament's nations. Pieces range from straight-out satire (Dave Eggers' examination of why the USA disregards soccer) to fan accounts (Ben Rice's wry examination of Australia's unfortunate status as an Oceanian team) to inspirational narratives (Courtney Angela Brkic's moving look at how Croatia's surprise success in the 1998 Cup helped foster the war-torn country's sense of post-independence cultral identity), and all offer a stirring testament to what the Brazilians call "the Beautiful Game". This one should be available wherever you are; if my local bookstore had it (they did), then yours will, too. If going outside isn't your game, then you can also find an online merchant here.

And now, some World Cup music.

Jim Noir - Eanie Meany. Remember earlier when I talked about how much I love Adidas' "José+10" campaign? Well, this song is part of the reason why I feel so fondly. Heard during the match in the second commercial, this bouncy track recalls the best moments of the now-defunct Welsh band Gorky's Zygotic Mynci. Noir's even-handed coolness chills everything out, while left guitars and a laconic bassline makes everyone want to forget soccer and lie in a sunny field somewhere. It may also induce frolicking.

BONUS: New Order - World In Motion. This is the sound of a) England's official theme from the 1990 World Cup in Italy, b) New Order's only #1 single, c) footballer John Barnes' rap debut, or d) all of the above. You have five minutes. No peeking.

If you need a visual aid, here's the video:

England, thou hast forsaken me.

2006-06-10T00:38:00.000-04:00

Found via Pitchfork, this is just reprehensible. I hope the English team's hotel explodes. Then, and only then, can we talk about calling it even.

(However, the incredulous-looking robot that graces the screen around the :48 mark did manage to make my morning.)

Speaking of soccer, the World Cup is upon us. I was lucky enough to catch both matches out of Group A earlier today, including a Germany-Costa Rica game that was way more exciting than the final score might suggest. Unfortunately for the Germans, the victory doesn't change the fact that their team is populated with players who look like they could play lead villains in any given 80s Cold-War-xpolitation flick. Some of these men appear terrifyingly Aryan; the fact that they're grouped with Poland is merely frosting on the Inappropriate Joke cake.

Sports Illustrated has a World Cup blog that you can check out for all your soccer needs. The USA begins its journey through the "group of death" with a match against the Czech Republic on Monday.

Other cool stuff:

- This thread, found on Hipinion and inspired by this site, transcends the realm of words... literally. If you've ever watched the Simpsons and been even mildly entertained, click those links as fast as possible.

- Irish safety and all-around tough guy Tom Zibikowski makes his professional boxing debut tomorrow night, facing off against doormat and admitted Ohio State fan Robert "The Disciple" Bell. According to Notre Dame wunder-blog The Blue-Gray Sky, Bell has been stricken with a serious case of "trashtalkitis", a disease which compliments his atrocious taste in football teams. Here's hoping Zibby aids in his recovery by punching his mouth off.

- I'm off to Chicago again this weekend, so updates may be sporadic until next week or so.

When I was in high school, Yellow Magic Orchestra was one of the first hip bands that I found completely by myself. I was working on a feature story about 80s music for my school's newspaper, and decided to delve deeper than your average compilation. For two weeks, I scoured sites like Yesterdayland (now called Retroland) and InThe80s for clues as to what bands I needed to expose to my mostly indifferent audience. The results were a mixed bag: while most of the groups were either embarassingly dated (yet still enjoyable) synthpop acts (Haircut 100, Alphaville) or exceedingly emotional New Romantic groups (Ultravox, The Spoons), a few managed to make permanent homes in my collection. Of all these, Yellow Magic Orchestra remains my personal favorite. Mixing the best parts of Kraftwerk's cold electronics with an Eno-like knack for sophisticate pop, their influence is subtle, yet far-reaching. In 2001, Jennifer Lopez sampled YMO's verson of Martin Denny's "Firecracker" in her single "I'm Real". This month, merengue junky Señor Coconut is set to release Yellow Fever!, an album which recasts YMO's orientalist electronica in a decidedly organic, not to mention South American, light. More information on that can be found at undomondo. Meanwhile, in honor of all these things, enjoy this semi-supersized update.

Yellow Magic Orchestra - Firecracker. The cover that started it all. As the first song of substance on YMO's self-titled debut, this track offers listeners their first taste of the band's fusion of exotica and electronica. This new orientalism is bolstered by production that still doesn't sound dated 28 years later. This is the track I fell in love with.

Yellow Magic Orchestra - Absolute Ego Dance. One of my favorite titles of all time, this track is from YMO's second (and some would say best) album, 1979's Solid State Survivor. Here, the eastern flavor is emphasized once again, but the sythn lines are busier and more varied, effectively lifting the song off its proverbial canvas and casting into three dimensions. A great song for one of those manic days.

Yellow Magic Orchestra - Cue. Finally, a look at the softer side of Hosono and co. Sounding like something Roxy Music might've released if they'd all been robots in disguise, "Cue" is actually a song from one of Ryuichi Sakamoto's solo projects that was reworked for release on 1980's BGM. Unlike many of YMO's other ventures into English lyrics, such as unintentionally hilarious covers of songs like the Beatles' "Day Tripper" or Archie Bell and the Drells' "Tighten Up", their vocal work on this track actually helps more than it hinders. All in all, this is one of BGM's finest moments, and a perfect track for nights of unexplained but welcome melancholia.

BONUS: Since undomondo has the Señor Coconut front coevered, I figured I'd fall back on an old standby: videos. So, enjoy these promo vids from both Yellow Magic Orchestra and Solid State Survivor, featuring:

1) "Computer Games"/"Firecracker"

2) "Tong Poo"

3) "Rydeen"

4) "Technopolis"

See our friends, see the sights, feel alright.

2006-06-08T01:20:00.000-04:00

That, right there? I used to feel like that during the summer. Now, I wake up at noon, drink herbal tea, and spend more time in Lower Blackrock Spire than I do outside my house. Oh, how times have changed.

To those of you who've been biting your nails waiting to find out which satellite radio provider I ended up choosing: worry not, for your time has come. Today I officially signed up for a monthly contract with XM, and I've spent the evening getting acquainted with broadcasting of the land-free persuasion. The first, and basically only, channel I tuned to was #146: FIFA's 2006 World Cup Network. All in all, this coverage has me sufficiently pumped for Friday and the opening ceremonies. Last time the World Cup was on, I was in Charlotte, NC competing in the National Forensic League's annual national tournament. The pressure of competition, coupled with 9am rounds and a crushing time difference between the US and Japan, meant that live matches were essentially out of the question for me. This year, though, I'm a lazy, unemployed college graduate with literally nothing better to do than bask in soccer-mania. With that in mind, I'll get back to thoughts on other channels in tomorrow's post.

While XM does offer clear advantages over its competitors, I can already tell that I'm going to miss some of Sirius' exclusive channels. While not having NPR, PRI, or BBC 1 isn't the end of the world, it's enough to inspire and "aww, shoot" and a snap of the fingers every now and then. For instance, without the BBC, I never would've found tonight's band as early as I did.

The Fratellis - Henrietta (Live at SXSW). Readers, meet Scotland's next big thing. From the rowdy streets of Glasgow come the Fratellis, Britrock upstarts and proud owners of this week's BBC Radio Single of the Week. These guys scream conglomeration; their selective borrowing ranges from their sound (Supergrass' exhuberance, the Libertines' unpolished snarl, T. Rex's eccentricity) to their naming convention (much like the Ramones, members of the Fratellis have cheekily adopted their band name as a common surname). However, all this mixing makes for an enjoyable romp. This gets my early vote for the summer's finest mischief-making anthem. The studio version of "Henrietta" comes out next week. Until then, satisfy your Fratellis cravings on either MySpace or the band's official site. Fans can also sign up for the band's new singles club, and gain access to this and other exclusive odds-n'-sods-type tracks.

BONUS: The Fratellis - Creeping Up The Backstairs. This song, taken from the band's debut EP, is available on iTunes as part of a showcase for unsigned bands. However, since the compilation's release, the Fratellis have gotten the call up. Last October, the lads inked a deal with Shoot The Runner, a well-concealed subsidiary of Island Records. With tracks like this, it's easy to see why they were picked up by such a relatively high-profile label. With a stomping, rag-like rhythm and lyrics doused in the spirit of edgy merry-making, the song is quite a fun little ride.

Edit: The link for the second song is officially fixed, so grab away, you heathens.

2006-06-06T20:29:00.000-04:00

since the plan broke up, I've been on the hunt for their heir apparent. - tyler

tyler posted this little comment lord knows how long ago, but now that i can post up in here (a mixup of epically stupid proportions), i thought i'd make the public aware of a band named so many dynamos, from missouri. these dudes "myspaced" (*slaps forehead at use of term*) me way back in the day, probably because i mentioned that i liked the dismemberment plan in my musical tastes. but these guys are the closest i've ever heard to the plan. at times, it's tough to distinguish between their vocals and morrison's spastic-ness.

(now come the links, just to mimic the previous post-age)
and so it went for 2 years or so. until our last tour when we stayed at our friend caleb jehl's place, and tony noticed smd's first album, when i explode, amongst caleb's enormous cd collection. he promptly ripped it and through the means of networking, i was able to pull it from him and then ipod that shit.

so many dynamos - windows facing walls (please get an mp4 player if this doesn't work for you in its current state.)

tyler, if this doesn't remind you of the plan, nothing will. this mixes the keyboard of "the city" with the spasticness of most of ...is terrified. the rest of the album is about as comparable. i put this one under my belt during a leisurely walk around (dead) campus. this song/album ends with a staggeringly good line, but i'll let you find out what it is by listening. oh, yeah, and jason caddell mixed their record, too. <<------JEALOUS

You are my girl and you don't even know it.

2006-06-06T00:37:00.000-04:00

In the interests of staying sane while in Kokomo this summer, I've taken to making frequent trips to the library. In the interests of keeping this blog updated, I've decided to share my reading list.

Here's the count so far, with no links and in no particular order:

Kitchen Confidential by Anthony Bourdain - Bourdain may be a pompous sonofabitch, but I've heard good things. Haven't started this one.

In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson - I'm a sucker for both travel narratives and Australia. Haven't started this one either.

The Zombie Survival Guide by Max Brooks - A worst-case scenario book on everyone's favorite undead creature by the son of comedy legend Mel Brooks.

Annotations by John Keene - A graduation present from the girlfriend's parents. This one's deep.

New Poems by Kenneth Rexroth - One of the foremost translators of Japanese poetry into English during the 20th century, Rexroth has a gift for original verse, too.

The Decameron by Boccaccio - A classic. I made it 10 pages.

Get This Party Started: How Progressives Can Fight Back and Win edited by Matthew R. Kerbel - What has two thumbs and is totally fired up for the midterm elections? THIS GUY! (note to self: joke not as funny when people can't see thumbs)

And here's today's haul:

Of Love and Other Demons by Gabriel Garcia Marquez - I would reread Love In the Time of Cholera, but I'm already fey enough as is.

Collected Poems by Ted Hughes - Fortunately, I don't care for Sylvia Plath, so I'm free to enjoy her vastly more engaging ex-husband.

The Ha-Ha by David Kirby - A complete shot in the dark.The cover looks interesting.

Had Enough?: A Handbook For Fighting Back by James Carville - Did I mention I'm really excited for this fall's elections?

Big Sky Mind: Buddhism and the Beat Generation editied by Carole Tonkinson - I don't really like the Beats, so I hope this one changes my mind.

Now, I just have to read 'em all. More on that later.

As I mentioned in my last post, I made my bi-monthly trip to Luna Music last week, picking up all manner of intriguing releases in the process. Tonight marks the second of three Luna updates, and features songs from Tale of the City, Houston Party's collection of Philidelphia's finest indie pop revivalists.

Blood Feathers - Sea Legs. This is the sound of an alternate universe where Rhett Miller fronts Beulah and California, having broken off from the rest of North America, is a neo-hippie beach commune. Words like languid or sun-baked might be appropriate, but they fail to account for the marriage of warm country twang with Summer of Love tambourines. Blood Feathers remain unsigned, but you can check out their MySpace page right here.

B.C Camplight - Blood and Peanut Butter. When I was in college, I'd get crushes on random people that I saw during the course of my daily routine. One year, it was a girl who worked at the laptop checkout in the library. Another, it was a girl who folded sweatshirst at the bookstore. I never talked to any of these ladies, but if I had, and if I had Ben Folds, Burt Bachrach, and Carl Newman as my wingmen on that particular day, it might've sounded something like this. Consequently, I've had this on repeat for the last two days. Don't listen if you're not ready for a new addiction. B.C. Camplight's debut, Hide, Run Away, is available on One Little Indian.

Hi-Soft - Soft Rock. Remember that wacky alternate universe? With the Beulah 97's and California Island? Well, in that same universe, Joe Pernice was born in England, replaced Kevin Shields in My Bloody Valentine, did away with what he called "all this guitar noise rubbish", and started making respectable pop music. This, then, was that group's first single. Seriously. If these songs don't make you want to go die of sunstroke with your best friends in the middle of some overcrowded public beach, there's something wrong inside of you. These are the sounds of summer. Hi-Soft can be found on Chocohearts, and their debut EP, Amateur, is available in that site's shop area.

And how do you think Kool Keith feels?

2006-06-03T02:27:00.000-04:00

Today was a solid day. I finally made it down to Luna Music, Indianapolis' finest independent record shop/secret Guided By Voices command center. It was my first trip in months, and I left with a modest haul that I'll be sharing here over the next week or so. In addition to the music, which is quite choice, I also ended up caving to the impulse buy pressure and buying a Dunny, one of Kid Robot's designer vinyl inaction figures. The creatures come in a sealed, windowless box, and some are rarer than others, so the thrill of the unknown plays a large part in a person's willingness to shell out $7.99 for three inches of plastic. I ended up getting the lovelorn bunny, designed by comic artist Tara McPherson, seen here. Precious? You bet.

When I first saw the cover of Country Teaser's The Empire Strikes Back, I thought I'd accidentally wandered into Luna's nonexistant books on tape section. I also thought that Country Teasers were undiscoverd territory. I wasn't totally wrong about that second point. Though the band has been around the block (eight albums in 13 years), their latest, and most heralded effort, has gone virtually unnoticed by even the indie-est of American publications. This, quite frankly, is a shame. In a world where everyone is either overly earnest or too jaded to think, The Empire Strikes Back finds a middle ground that is both entertaining and thought-provoking. Described as "a concept album about race, England, and Star Wars", presented as a textbook, and infused with the musical spirit of like-minded acts like the Butthole Surfers, the album takes a hard look at the currents of racism that form the underpinnings of modern Britain's supposedly liberal society. The album is not always a comfortable listen; many of frontman Ben Wallers' personas offer frank invectives regarding race and class that may cause more sensitive scene kids to shift in their seats. However, when tracks like this one hit, they knock 'em out of the park.

Country Teasers - White Patches. On "White Patches", Wallers tackles a traditional topic: the culture gap between blacks and whites. In the hands of a more sentimental artist, this would end up sounding dated and shlocky, an anti-apartheid anthem two decades too late. However, Wallers takes a different route. Between images of urban warfare, Wallers breaks things down with a simple, self-concious examination of why black people don't come to his concerts. His deadpan delivery, coupled with the manic gallop and ominous organ peals provided by the rest of the band, gives lines like "When you fuck around with words/ You make the siuation worse" added weight. The band also gets bonus points for calling out indie kids for their obsession with certain hip hop acts, ruefully asking "How do you think Kool Keith feels?". How indeed. More on Country Teasers, and others, can be found at their label's page.

BONUS: Country Teasers - Raglan Top On Lonsdale Grey. The softer side of Ben Wallers, and the catchiest song about about a racially-motivated gang beating/murder that you'll probably ever hear.

Yours ain’t the only way to feel.

2006-06-02T02:07:00.000-04:00

Nothing about that video makes sense. With that said, the audience is easily the best part. Their big hair and ocean-esque gyrations look like a cross between a backyard wrestling crowd and Parrotheads who're already one too many margaritas into the night. In short, God bless the internet.

I've been home since Tuesday evening, and already I'm ready to go somewhere else. This wanderlust is compounded by the fact that I have no friends to visit, no destinations to conquer, and no creative alternatives that will alleviate my travel bug. So, during the down time, I do what I can: play Warcraft, drink malt liquor, and avoid the idea that grad school applications are due sooner than I think. I've also begun pricing satellite radio receivers. So far, I haven't really been able to find any compelling arguments for or against XM or Sirius. Aside from Howard Stern, they seems equally viable to me, so I'm kinda stuck at an impasse at the moment. Anybody have any suggestions?

I already have Saturday's update planned, so look out for that. Let's just say it'll feature a blast from the past and, if all goes well, will represent the first in a series of themed Saturday updates.

Burial - Distant Lights. There's a palpable tension around here at night. It's been hot since I got back, and sometime I like to go out for drives to escape from the heat. As I wind along the same roads that I've been coming down since high school, I've begun to notice how sinister the city looks at night. Factories sprawl out all across town, and, if you stray far from the painted neon signs of US 31, you'll quickly find yourself bathed in the amber light of industry. It's can be really unsettling. The light is a really unkind shade, the kind they use for parking lots that no one really cares about. The whole city buzzes in it. Even in the country, it radiates off of buildings in the distance. In that light, and with that heat, you can't help but feel pressed in by the night. Everything is ominous. All of this is a long way of saying that Burial makes the kind of music that might suitably accompany such a trip if you replaced Kokomo with London. A solid dubstep effort. Find more here.

Daedelus - Sundown. The complete opposite of the previous song. The person who recommended this track to me described it as the most organic-sounding electronic music that I'll ever hear, and he may be right. I tried Daedelus out with 2004's Of Snowdonia, but was left unconvinced. However, this is no longer the case. On his newest album, Daedelus Denies The Day's Demise, Daedelus' music breathes deeper and more confidently than it ever has before. Also, the Latin American influences are, for once, a welcome addition. Interested parties can hear more straight from the horse's mouth, or check out the label's page for more info on Daedelus as well as notable label mates like cLOUDDEAD, Aesop Rock, and Nobody and The Mystic Chords of Memory (who have a new EP out this week that features Devendra Banhart and the Long Lost clocking in for guest appearances).

It's happy hour again.

2006-05-30T12:24:00.000-04:00

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.

"i had this cousin once who hated seafood. it was the weirdest thing."

2006-05-27T00:35:00.000-04:00

hello, all. it's me, your favorite hanson fan (occasionally known as janelle). since tyler posted a blog entry full of songs that remind him of me, i figured i'd retaliate. so:

the posies - i may hate you sometimes. i've been a posies fan for many years. with their impeccable pop sensibilities and weirdly twisty and literary lyrics (i mean, who else uses the word "nomenclature" in a song?) they've made relatively few missteps in my book.

i've always thought of tyler and i as the non-musically talented equivalents of jon auer and ken stringfellow, respectively. for evidence, i offer the following pictures:

i mean, come on! there's more to it, though, and it's best illustrated by this song. the history of the posies is marred by arguments and breakups. on their acoustic live album, in case you didn't feel like plugging in, this song is followed by a confession: "so that last song i kind of wrote about him, and i guess this next song he kind of wrote about me. so... we're a couple of sick fucks." after five studio albums, the posies officially broke up in 1998. afterwards, they released a live album, a best-of collective, a box set, an e.p., and finally officially reunited with last year's every kind of light. despite their differences, these two crazy kids just couldn't stay apart.

and that's why the posies will always, always remind me of tyler. we'll argue and disagree; we'll split apart and do solo projects; he'll ask me to dance and i'll give him the silent treatment for weeks; i'll hit him with the drill bits as often as possible. but in the end, we'll reunite to critical acclaim. and if we were to ever form a band, we'd probably write a song kind of like this one.

fountains of wayne - bowling shoes (live). now, i don't know why tyler thinks he can get away with calling me a shameless pop whore. he's the biggest pop music whore i know, which is made clear by his affection for fountains of wayne.

several years ago, before out-of-state plates, tyler made me a cd full of fountains of wayne b-sides. titled hanukkah, sasquatch, and broken legs, it contained every b-side and a number of live performances. it's got everything; early versions of "mexican wine" and "valley winter song," all the holiday-themed novelty tunes, "can't get it out of my head" live, and of course the ever-classic performance of "sasquatch" (lyrics: "sasquatch!/stop acting crazy/sasquatch!/stop eating my friends"). it's a brilliant mix, with 27 songs total, and frankly i think it's got a better tracklisting than the official b-sides collection mentioned earlier. more importantly, though, it's an essential relic of our friendship. and the truth is, when the going gets rough, one of my favorite solutions is to lock myself in a room with tyler and this mix. there are few other things that cure my ailments quite as well.

when i first pondered creating this update, i wasn't sure which song i'd pick. then i remembered that every time we discuss this band, we have some version of the following conversation:

tyler: you know, they've removed "bowling shoes" from their catalogue. it's not on out-of-state plates! they never play it!
janelle: i know!
tyler: man.
janelle: it's so good!
tyler: i know!

then we stare into space for a few minutes, shaking our heads in disappointment, before resuming our previous conversation.

so why do we like this rambling tale of infidelity so much? it's shamelessly poppy, which we love. it's got all the fountains of wayne trademarks: a bouncy, driving guitar line; surprisingly angsty lyrics; the perfectly combined vocal power of adam schlesinger and chris collingwood. it also never actually got the studio treatment, so there's also a whole bucketload of unrealized potential. so maybe we like it because it's the forgotten stepchild. then again, maybe it's just the "sha la la las" during the chorus.

the housemartins - johannesburg. and a ballad to wrap things up! i've gotten about a million mixes from tyler over the years. here's proof:

this particular mix dates back to, i think, the paleozoic era (which, by the way, is totally an awesome band name). it included some great music and, yes, an entire page full of notes-- a few sentences about each song. i'd transcribe some of the comments for you, but frankly... i can barely read them. penmanship is your friend, tyler. in any case, it includes a song by the housemartins. i must have mentioned enjoying the tune, because later i got a copy of the people who grinned themselves to death. and though i've somehow lost track of that album, this song always stuck with me. it's simple, melodic, and about a cold-hearted bitch, so maybe i just identify.

BONUS TRACK! the gay potatoes - cry one tear (live). seriously. SERIOUSLY. i love this song. from a little-known, short-lived chris collingwood side project, it's really fantastic. again, and much to my dismay, this track never got the studio treatment. but it's brilliant. have i mentioned that it's totally awesome? listen, and then stick around for the hilariously classic stage banter.

Everything's alright forever.

2006-05-26T14:26:00.000-04:00

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.

I call you Sister Carrie, but I never say it.

2006-05-24T02:02:00.000-04:00

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.

Always open with a number!

2006-05-20T12:11:00.000-04:00

Well, my life in Peoria is rapidly drawing to a close. Over the course of the last few days, I boxed up pretty much all of my meaningful possessions, hauled them back to Kokomo, and deposited them in a seedy storage center on the outskirts of town. Naturally, I'm uncomfortable.

Packing is always a chore for me, probably because it, by its very nature, is an inherently organized process. Every box is like its own game of Tetris, and, while I love puzzle games as much as the next guy, this wears me down quicker than most. Something about systematically dismantling two years' worth of life just doesn't agree with me.

The only enjoyment that I usually get out of moving is that rush of excitement that comes when i inevitable unearth stuff that I'd totally forgotten about. I have a ton of junk, and certain items get lost in the shuffle. This time, the haul was pretty decent. Some highlights:

- a photo album, from around sophomore year of college, filled with incriminating photographs of ex-girlfriends.

- my flamingo walking stick. No, don't ask. Just trust me. It's cool.

- the program from last year's Notre Dame-USC game . When I saw this one, visions of the evil Trojan horde streaming victorious onto the field at Notre Dame Stadium overcame me, and I had to lie down.

- an old VHS tape full of hours of MTV2 (featuring high school classics like Weezer's "Keep Fishin'", the White Stripes' "Fell In Love With A Girl", and the Strokes' "Last Night", among others) and early Adult Swim broadcasts from when we were all convinced it was destined to be cancelled (the Space Ghost clip above, one of my favorites of all-time, was included).

- another VHS tape with nothing but 12 episodes of Square One TV, PBS' old math education show that used to air after Where In The World Is Carmen Sandiego? when I was a kid. 80s-tastic celebrity guests on these particular episodes include the Fat Boys, who sing about bigness (cheap!), John Moschitta, who talks fast (expected!), and Sugar Ray Leonard, who explains how to weigh dogs (...?).

- the first mixtape I ever received, courtesy of Janelle Greene. This one was a find, since it's the physical representation of my first exposure to non-mainstream music. For some reason, I'm never able to keep a firm lock on its location. It tends to come in and out of my life at regular intervals. Musically, it reeks of late-90s-ness: the primary participants here are either early Saddle Creek bands (Bright Eyes, Cursive, The Faint, Park Ave.), members of Elephant Six (Beulah, Apples in Stereo, Neutral Milk Hotel, Chocolate USA), or some of the other "usual indie suspects" (Dismemberment Plan, Death Cab For Cutie, The Posies). Even five years on, this thing still holds up; the flow is amazing, the angst is thick, and the tape hiss alone qualifies it for collector's item status. If you'd like a peek at the tracklist, here it is. Anyway, since this tape is basically the whole reason I'm doing this blog in the first place, I thought I'd dedicate this update to Janelle, and showcase a couple of songs that'll always remind me of her.

For future reference, here's Janelle looking hott:

The Loud Family - The Second Grade Applauds. In addition to sharing her music with me, Janelle was also the first person to turn me on to blogging. Back in high school, we used an online diary service called Diaryland. We both kept online journals, some of which are still up somewhere. At this point, I was in the depths of a schoolboy crush, and I always used to marvel at Janelle's cryptic, yet effective, use of song titles as titles for journal entries. Though, at the time, I had never heard most of the songs involved (this one included), I figured they had to be significant. When I would hear them, I would try and decode the journal entries using the lyrics of the song in question. I had a lot of time on my hands in high school. Anyway, sometimes they fit, sometimes they didn't. I never gained insight into the girl using this method, but I did hear some bitchin' music.

The Loud Family, named for the family featured in the 1970s PBS documentary An American Family, is the second band of Scott Miller, former frontman of 80s critical darlings Game Theory. The Loud Family, as their name suggests, finds Miller rocking out more than usual, while still retaining the hooky, erratic quirks that made his first group popular. On this track, guitars crunch through the background, while keys and chimes lope alongside Miller's springy tenor. by the time the kids come in with some actual cheering, you should be convinced.

Matthew Sweet - Time Capsule. Janelle is, if nothing else, a shameless pop whore. This fact is demonstrated most aptly by her blind fanaticism for all things Hanson. Yes, that Hanson. The girl who introduced me to Jeff Mangum also holds a soft spot in her heart for Isaac, Taylor, and Zac. In fact, she once skipped seeing the Posies on their reunion tour in order to go to some cavernous arena for a Hanson show. She's a strange one.

When she still thought she could convert me, she used to entice me by mentioning that Hanson collaborated with Matthew Sweet. This is a weak spot for me; I love power-pop, and Matthew Sweet is the power-poppiest. That fact that the Hanson boys were also smart enough to channel Country Music Matthew also didn't hurt. While he may be morst famous for tracks like "Girlfriend", Sweet is also unstoppable with more Americana-based ballads such as Time Capsule, which appeared on 1993's Altered Beast. In the end, I had to concede: the Hanson track was pretty ok. However, I remain unconviced.

I'm in Kokomo for the forseeable future, so updates should be regular. Also, my first big summer blogging project is currently scheduled to start Monday, so stay tuned.

Do you remember the good old days before the ghost town?

2006-05-18T17:59:00.000-04:00

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.

Midwest Music Summit Week: Days Two and Three

2005-07-20T23:51:00.000-05:00

Man, dial-up can sour even the best things in life. My undead rogue is collecting serious dust. Regardless, I press on.

Just a heads-up, though: you should probably only expect updates on a Monday-Wednesday-Friday schedule until the middle of next month, when school starts again and my internet access is blazing fast once more. If that schedule works for Penny Arcade, it works for me.

In the news, can liberals do better? Our options could be worse, but that still isn't saying much. Decisions like that, coupled with the fact that the dude's only 50, mean George Bush's pawprint could loom over the legal community for a significant chunk of the century. In other words, this shit is hot.

As promised, here are more clips from this week's upcoming Midwest Music Summit in Indianapolis.

Everything, Now! - I Live In A Trailer Park. An awesome track off of Police, Police!, an awesomer mini-album. The lads of Everything, Now! were birthed from the sticky womb of Ball State University. They're strapping, heroic, and fluent in Coolese. They've also fought the hydra, served me hallucinogenic Chinese food, and have at least one song that sounds like a goblin work chant. Only some of these statements are true. This song? "Crazy neighbors" doesn't even begin to describe it.

BONUS: Margot and the Nuclear So-and-Sos - Barfight Revolution. Since I was a delinquent poster yesterday, here's another track from another Indiana band playing at the Summit. I'm not as intimately familiar with this group, but this track has some serious swagger, and their name is a reference to the Royal Tenenbaums, so they're already way ahead in my book.

Both E,N! and the So-and-Sos will play Radio Radio on Friday in a set that boasts the highest concentration of Indiana rock awesomeness anywhere in the entire festival. They'll be joined by local favorites like Killjoy Confetti, The Vegetables, The Lou Reeds, and even more. Some tracks from at least one of those artists will be in the Thursday/Friday update. Promise.

Midwest Music Summit Week: Day One

2005-07-18T13:22:00.000-05:00

Well, that was a fun hiatus. Only having access to a dial-up connection really saps my desire to post, but here goes nothing anyway. We've got some good music on the horizon this week, thanks to Midwest Music Summit 2005.

In an attempt to get in on the summer festival scene, and to prove that we can attract just as many cool acts as our neighbors on the lake, Indianapolis will once again play host to the Midwest Music Summit. The event, which stretches out over three days (June 21-23), features artists from all genres playing bills at night clubs and ballrooms all around the Circle City. For indie kids, this means rocking out with acts both well-known (Robbers On High Street, French Kicks) and soon-to-be-well-known (Everything, Now!, Killjoy Confetti). What follows are some samples of my personal favorites.

The Changes - When I Wake. Oh man, janglepop. How I love thee. So do the Changes, a four-piece from Chicago whose timeless devotion to masterwork pop result in hooks that bury themselves in your brain for weeks on end. When you hear this song, the fact that these dudes remain unsigned will seem even more hard to swallow.

The Changes play one of the finer showcases at The Vogue on Friday night before heading up to Lollapalooza and their Sunday timeslot (which runs head-to-head with fellow Chicagoans Ok Go). Their website also features more downloads from their self-titled EP. Clear some space on the hard drive.

Check back later for more tracks and pithy commentary. It's good to be back.

Panic on the streets of London.

2005-07-07T21:03:00.000-05:00

Apparently, we're winning. Who knew?

No more comments, though. Not yet. Morrissey said it better, anyway.

The Smiths - Panic.

Men of steel need the skrilla, too

2005-07-06T21:19:00.000-05:00

The following post is Obner-approved:

While charity was in the air during last weekend's Live 8 mega-event, it seems that this week marks the return of greed, charity's jerko cousin who listens to REO Speedwagon and still wears sleeveless shirts even though they look ridiculous. In the worst PR move since [insert topical reference point here], nth-generation Brit rock middlers Razorlight became the first act to stand up and say, "Yeah, we're kinda dicks."

(I was planning a funny caption, but... look at them. Who knew I'd be right?)

The group went on the record about their plans to keep proceeds from increased album sales generated by their appearance at the concert. When asked what they were going to do with their seemingly ill-gotten gains, they mentioned something about paying off some speculative eBay auctions that ended up being total fucking busts.

That statement is false, but the concept is still comedy gold. Discuss your opinions about Razorlight/Live 8/celebrity charity bastardry here.

And on a totally unrelated note...

The Russian Futurists - These Seven Notes. I've been hooked on Matthew Hart ever since I first heard "Let's Get Ready To Crumble" off the album of the same name. His tracks always seem to evoke simultanious polar opposites. Any given song can be hot and cold, lush and sleek, inviting and detached... and it just works. This cut is taken from the Futurists' newest album, Our Thickness. Once again following the Paul Simon path to success (10 tracks = perfect album), the album is full of nine others just like this one. I defy you to tell me that's a bad thing.

Also, check out the website. I have to respect a man who can still rock the Geocities.

Wanted: A Juliana

2005-07-05T21:47:00.000-05:00

I went to one of Barack Obama's town hall meetings in Pekin this afternoon. It was pretty boss, and I even got my question answered. I decided to go for the lob and ask about the upcoming Supreme Court replacement fight, since some of the questions were on topics (Haitian unrest, community block grants) that just didn't pack much of a punch answer-wise.. His answer was pretty safe, but that doesn't stop me from feeling like this summer's about to heat up.

Also, who's this handsome devil?

Now, the music:

The Lemonheads - Kitchen. From The Lemonheads' astounding 1992 release It's A Shame About Ray. This song doesn't really correspond to the post, but that doesn't stop it from sounding mighty fine. This is one of the tracks that's going on my upcoming biographical mix CD project. It has a certain swaggering romantic irresponsibility that seems to match my life pretty well (I think). When I play a montage of my college years in my mind, I think this song could be one of the accompanying tracks. Plus, Evan Dando is the dreamiest addled drug addict this side of The Viper Room. I'd hold his hand, in a completely hetero way.

Born in the U.S.A.

2005-07-04T19:19:00.000-05:00

I survived Indiana, and all is well. Also, what follows may seem like heavy-handed editorial commentary. It is. If you're not in the mood for that sort of thing, feel free to ignore the post and just download the song. It's very good, and comes courtesy of one Mr. Drew Deboy. Less polarizing posts will resume tomorrow.

Harry Nilsson - Sail Away. Call this one America's birthday present. Originally written and performed by Randy Newman (who guests here on the piano), the song is taken to new heights by Nilsson, who adds bravado to the role of a glad-handing slave trader. The lyrics speak of promise on a variety of levels, and whether you like the idea or not, they're basically correct. While some forms of 21st-century nationalism trumpet America's austerity and value, this nation was founded by people who also estimated that property was the equal of both life and liberty. It should be no surprise that our history is full of one group fucking over another in the name of the proverbial "fat cash". As a product of the system, I can't make a value judgment. This isn't right or wrong or negotiable; it just is. Really, that's the point. If you love all things American, you have to love this part, too. Suddenly, being a patriot just became much harder. Not impossible, mind you. Just harder.

You're looking happily deranged.

2005-07-01T17:41:00.000-05:00

Greetings from Indiana. I'm here for a holiday weekend filled with bratwurst and hazy, whiskey-fueled shenanigans. This update is brought to you by those things, as well as television shows from my youth.

Polaris - Hey Sandy. A great theme song for an equally great show, this track is lifted directly from the original soundtrack to The Adventures of Pete and Pete. For any unfamiliar parties out there, let me set the record straight: Pete and Pete may be the pinnacle of televised young adult programming, beating even the kings of angst over at Degrassi for the title of "Best Kid's Show Ever". Over the course of three seasons, the brothers Wrigley harnassed the oddly unique power of the early 90s alternative movement and made it kid-friendly. You could almost call it suburban surrealism. While the narrative was compelling enough, the musical sensibilities of the show's producers rang strangely authentic. The guest stars alone were off the charts. Iggy Pop was a concerned neighborhood father. Syd Straw and LL Cool J were local teachers. Hell, Marshall Crenshaw was the fucking meter man! Throughout all this, there was Polaris. Composed of members from alt-pop band Miracle Legion, Polaris provided the soundtrack for the Petes' adventures. Amazingly, these songs stand on their own, regardless of your level of familiarity with or fondness of the show. Please, see for yourselves, my little vikings.

BONUS: Polaris - Waiting for October. Fuck Prince. You'll never find a happier song about the end of the world.

...is terrified.

2005-06-30T10:49:00.000-05:00

Just shy of 11 a.m., and already the heat's unbearable. Welcome to Peoria, folks.

Dismemberment Plan - Ellen and Ben. When I think of my greatest summers, these guys are one of the first accompanying bands to come to mind. The association is more personal than anything, but that doesn't mean it isn't strong. In high school, I spent a week at speech nationals in Oklahoma City jamming to "Gyroscope" and "Girl O'Clock" on a cassette given to me by my friend Janelle. Two years later, my friends and I undertook a 14-hour road trip to Washington D.C. just to see the Plan's farewell show at Ft. Reno. They only got to play for 45 minutes thanks to a combination of rain and draconian city ordinances governing outdoor concerts on public land, but it was all worth it because of songs like this one. Relationships fuck up, and you don't know why. This is especially true if you aren't one of the participants. In this song, Travis Morrison plays the role of the bemused outsider, offering conjecture and commentary about the title characters' ill-fated pairing.

BONUS: Troubled Hubble - Where Raccoons Don't Live. Since the Plan broke up, I've been on the hunt for their heir apparent, and these Chicagoans come pretty close. This track combines the vocals of speak-singers like Clem Snide's Eef Barzalay with a reasonable facsimile the Plan's apocalypitically frantic instrumental assault. Their new album, Making Beds In A Burning House, is available on Lookout! Records.

Deep in the heart of crazy

2005-06-29T23:15:00.000-05:00

File under "Texas schools, how fucking crazy are":

Just when they thought that publicity couldn't get any worse, the Texas public school system finds itself in the news yet again. This time, though, it's their own fault.

According to a report on CNN.com, the rootin'-tootin' regulators of the Texas Music Educators Association struck out another ringing victory for peace, love, and understanding. Apparently, art is art, but gender roles are universal.

Klaus Nomi - Nomi Song. Proof positive that male sopranos can rock the block with the best of them. Of course, in Nomi's case, being a German cabaret robot also helped.

Interested parties would do well to check out The Nomi Song, a new documentary that's been making the rounds at art theatres everywhere. From what I hear, it's pretty fantastic.

In the waiting room

2005-06-29T11:15:00.000-05:00

My friend Mr. Butler directed my attention to some new developments in the Nike/Minor Threat debacle. In case anyone missed it, America's most tender-hearted shoe producer landed itself in hot water last week with a new ad for their Major Threat skateboarding tour that, to some, seemed strangely familiar. Behold:

Aaand behold:

On Monday, according to this article from the hipster gatekeepers at Pitchfork, Nike Skateboarding issued an apology and promised to pull all copies of the ad from its upcoming promotional tour.

Minor Threat - In My Eyes. Before he hit his stride fronting Fugazi, Ian MacKaye spent his days snarling straight edge anthems like this one. 80s hardcore isn't necessarily my area of expertise, but I'd be lying if I said this song didn't make me want to go out and hit some drunk people (or shoe company executives) with baseball bats, screaming (MacKaye-style) "Did you fucking GET IT?!" all the while.

Days of future present

2005-06-28T20:51:00.000-05:00

Bandwagons are for hopping, and mp3 blogs are for the kids, so welcome to My Bird Performs. I know, I know. Another mp3 blog? Yes. Have at it.

XTC - My Bird Performs. The site's namesake, and one of the finest tracks from XTC's 1992 album Nonsuch. The 90s were a bit of a lost decade for Andy Partridge and his Swindon pals. After coming off a successful American radio tour in support of 1989's Oranges and Lemons, the group only managed to release one proper album (not counting 1990's rarity compliation Rag and Bone Buffet) before problems with Virgin relegated them to seven years of silence. Many consider Nonsuch to be a placeholder album that works only to bridge the gap between the group's 80s output and their later 90s work. In reality, however, the album is filled with fertile pop gems like this one. Partridge said that this song, written by his oft-overlooked partner Colin Moulding, had "the best melody Paul Simon never wrote", and that claim isn't far off. Moulding's vocals, though somewhat overproduced, are dulcet and reassuring, melting over lyrics that extoll the virtues of being happy with what you've got. Once the trumpet solo kicks in at the end, the cake is truly iced.

BONUS: XTC - That's Really Super, Supergirl. Andy Partridge has a thing for comic books. First Sgt. Rock Is Going To Help Me (from 1980's Black Sea), then this (followed by 1987's Braniac's Daughter from The Dukes of the Stratosphear's Psonic Psunspot). A simple song about getting dumped by a girl who also happens to fight crime. Genius? Close, probably.