Emma Blowgun's Last Stand

whither the Limeys of yesteryear?

2006-03-10T14:49:00.000-08:00

So while watching Robyn Hitchcock last week, I came to the conclusion that in my personal pantheon, XTC's Andy Partridge is the wise Father, Elvis Costello is the snarky Son, and Robyn is the ineffable Holy Ghost. Pretentious but true - those three artists, all born within a year of each other, are without a doubt my favorite songwriters of all time. (Yes, even including Jeff Tweedy.) They've got it all - great tunes, great voices, a willingness to experiment stylistically, and lyrics which can make you laugh and tear your heart out, sometimes in the same song.

I don't think it's a coincidence that all three artists are also British. The Brits have a rich legacy of combining catchy pop and clever, insightful lyrics, dating back to the Beatles, of course, but also (and especially) the Kinks. Andy Partridge hails Ray Davies as a forebear; I don't know if Robyn and Elvis do too, but the influence is there. The Kinks' legacy has lingered in British music for a long time - I definitely hear it in the Smiths, for instance, and Belle & Sebastian. But maybe I'm just not listening to enough British music nowadays, because I don't hear much Kinks-ness anymore. In fact, I hear very little British music that interests me at all, regardless of influence.

It seems like every British band nowadays is based on one of three templates. Either it's swoony, "Bends"-era Radiohead (Coldplay), Strokes-style pseudo-garage rock (The Libertines), or fidgety Gang of Four post-punk (Franz Ferdinand). The latter two are newer styles, but nevertheless, every time a trendy new British band comes along, I can predict exactly what they'll sound like. The much-hyped Arctic Monkeys, for instance (and imagine how we'll be laughing at that name in ten years), follow the garage-rock template. I'm not making a wholesale dismissal of any of these bands, by the way - they don't suck, but it's like... jeez, let's hear something different for once. Maybe this sameness is an artifact of the slobbering, "hype them and forget about them" British music press. Maybe these types of bands are just what makes it over to the States. I don't know, but it's getting pretty boring.

The only new British band to catch my attention in the past five years has been Clinic, just because they sound... weird (and definitely different) - although admittedly I lost interest in them after one album. I've also been meaning to listen to more Super Furry Animals and Mogwai. But neither of those bands are new, and they'd probably resent being called British, being Welsh and Scottish respectively. (Yes, I know, Belle & Sebastian and Franz Ferdinand are Scottish, too.)

So is British rock really a vast wasteland? Give me some recommendations, folks. I don't want to give up on ol' Blighty quite yet.

Robyn Hitchcock is...

2006-03-04T23:10:00.000-08:00

A three-month hiatus since my last post? Pfft, it's not like we're talking seven years between albums here (ahem, Andy Partridge). I've got several show reviews and other backlog to post, but first of all let's discuss Mr. Robyn Hitchcock, who played at the Doug Fir Lounge last night.

So this was my 9th time seeing Robyn - a paltry number compared with folks who've been going to Robyn shows since the mid-80's, some of whom were with me at the show. Nevertheless, I've seen more loud shirts and ugly trousers than you can shake a stick at. Last night's show was a little more sartorially tame - a black-and-white polka-dotted shirt and purple trousers. It was Robyn's 53rd birthday, and he was feelin' the love, in his British kind of way. He was more cheerful and mellow than I've ever seen him, though he was sort of taken-aback when the audience started singing "Happy Birthday" to him. "Aw, let 'em sing," said, Scott McCaughey, whose ubiquitous Minus 5 was serving as Robyn's back-up band.

The show started with Robyn playing solo acoustic, unfortunately somewhat drowned out by noisy talkers in the audience. (Typical.) I'd been going around humming "The Speed of Things" (off Robyn's 1994 album "Moss Elixir") for a few days previously, and was hoping Robyn might play it, but with a nearly 30-year back catalogue, I thought this was unlikely. And what do you know - he played it! I love moments like that. He dedicated the song to "his father's bones," and explained that he tends to get morbid on his birthday.

Following the acoustic set, Robyn was joined by Scott, Peter, and co., as well as Harvey Danger's Sean Nelson singing back-up harmonies, and the show kicked into high gear. The setlist was terrific, ranging from Robyn's old band the Soft Boys to some new, unreleased songs which, unlike much of Robyn's recent output, actually weren't half bad. He also did several covers - a couple of George Harrison songs, Dylan's "Visions of Johanna," and the Byrds' "Eight Miles High." A number of songs were from "Moss Elixir" and 1988's "Element of Light" - maybe they're favorites of his? Anyway, it was great to hear oldies but goodies like "If You Were a Priest" and "Beautiful Queen" - the latter dedicated to "Colin and Carson Meloy, who just had their baby." (Huzzah!) I was also thrilled to hear "Madonna of the Wasps," "Flesh Number One," "Acid Bird," "Chinese Bones," and especially "Driving Aloud (Radio Storm)." I decided that the sound of Peter Buck's Rickenbacker is the most beautiful sound in the world. I think it could cure lepers or raise people from the dead.

As usual, Robyn's surreal comments were out in force. At the encore, someone brought out a big cluster of green and purple balloons. "Oh, a bunch of dark alien eggs," said Robyn, as Peter Buck tied them to his guitar strap. He explained that "Flesh Number One" and "Alright, Yeah" were "spiritual leveling songs" - "They leave you as they found you, but subtly different - you'll find that your emotional problems are vacuumed away." He also dedicated the Soft Boys' "I Wanna Destroy You" to Karl Rove. "The man's a Sagittarius!" he said in horror, "like Jim Morrison. If I had any faith in humanity, I'd lose it." But the song - a glorious anthem of spite and revenge - ended the show on a high note, and I went away very happy indeed.

This was the best Robyn show I've seen since the Soft Boys' reunion in 2001. My love for Robyn - which had been faltering after a series of lackluster solo albums over the past few years - has been restored. Yay Robyn, and happy birthday!

Wilco is...

2005-12-04T13:45:00.000-08:00

Courtesy of an articulate soul on the Wilco board:

Wilco is a feeling, a soft spring breeze that can turn direction the next day and freeze you where you stand. Wilco is a leaf collection, it is the look in a bird's eye upon coming to after hitting a plane glass window. Wilco is the awkward empathy you have for the old lady fumbling for change at the coffee counter.

Wilco is that same damn electric shock every time you touch your car on certain days. Wilco is that little halt in time between the time you set down your beer mug and the satisfied "Ahhhhhh......"

Wilco is that little girl with the big eyes that you can just tell is going to be something else when she grows up. Wilco is the grey area where a word means the same thing in several languages. Wilco is that uneasy feeling where you're SURE you have a flat tire cause the truck's driving funny, but it's not really flat.

Wilco is that first cigarette, that old lost toy, that dog who looks familiar. Wilco is a mother in curlers. Wilco is stroller locks, dentures, x-ray specs. Wilco is cool marbles, Viewmaster, adolescent urban myths and toast. Wilco is an old friend you forgot about, and find you still love.
Wilco is a scar that won't go away. Wilco is bone and blood and mud and stones. And sometimes essential.

It's hard to sum up the appeal of your favorite bands, but I think this does it nicely.

find him, bind him...

2005-11-05T10:20:00.000-08:00

There's really no such thing as a bad Decemberists show. Unless my memory fails me (as it often does), last night was my 8th time seeing them - if you include Colin's solo shows - and I have yet to be disappointed.

The show was at the Roseland Theater, where I saw Wilco last year - an impersonal venue where they frisk you at the door and run you through a metal detector. (WTF?) But the first thing I noticed as I went through the door was a sign saying that the show was a live video shoot. Sweet! I ended up standing almost immediately behind the huge camera boom, a spot which gave me a mostly unimpeded view of the stage except when the cameraman decided to zoom in on the keyboards.

I didn't know the name of the first band, a bunch of mild-mannered indie-poppers who had us all sing along with a song whose chorus was "I love you." (Really living on the edge there...) The second band was the Minus 5, whom I had previously seen backing up Robyn Hitchcock. As a back-up band, they're great, and I always enjoy the goofy stage presence of Scott McCaughey, with his frizzy hair and silly hats. As a main act... they're not so good. I've seen them a few times before and it always takes about 20 minutes for them to go from "Hey, these guys aren't so bad, I've been giving them a bad rap" to "Are they done yet?" They put a lot of energy into their unimaginative garage pop for a bunch of old guys, I'll give them that. They also did a cover of the Soft Boys' theme song, "Give It to the Soft Boys" (I squealed) and the Sonics' "Strychnine." The Decemberists' John Moen (whom I think used to be in the Minus 5) came out and enthusiastically played sleighbells for one song, which was also fun.

So then it was time for the much more exciting main act. Colin wore his trademark stripy jacket, Crutchy had a goofy hat and loud tie, and Nate was wearing a trilby hat and a suit. There was a clipper ship on the amp and bird decorations everywhere (this was the last stop on the "Flight of the Mistle Thrushes" tour). The first song was "The Tain" - a 20-minute prog-rock epic which most of the audience had never heard. Ballsy! The intrepid sextet then rocked on through the rest of a fairly usual set, enlivened by (eeee!) my favorite Decemberists song, "July, July!" and a solo Colin performance of "Every Day is Like Sunday." Only one other Castaways and Cutouts song ("Leslie Anne Levine") and nothing from 5 Songs, but oh well. It was particularly fun hearing "On the Bus Mall"... on the bus mall, where the Roseland is located.

Naturally, the showpiece of the set was the lengthy "Mariner's Revenge Song," which I've never seen performed live. The band pulled out all the stops for this one - the climax being when Crutchy ran through the crowd with a set of giant whale jaws made of cardboard (for the part where the protagonist and his enemy are eaten by the whale). Then it was time for several more Decemberists showstoppers - "The Chimbley Sweep" and "I Was Meant For the Stage." Scott McCaughey came out and attempted to jam on Colin's guitar during "Chimbley Sweep," and at one point Crutchy was waltzing wildly around the stage with Jenny, Nate, and Petra. At the end of the show, Jenny threw all the bird decorations in the audience and Crutchy threw the giant whale jaws. It was funny seeing an audience member come out of the venue afterwards holding one of them.

Now, if you're thinking, "Gosh, I wish I coulda seen them Decemberists" - fear not, for the video footage is going to be used for a live DVD! I don't know when it will be released, but it's definitely something to look forward to. Wheee!

speaking of Okkervil River...

2005-10-28T00:24:00.000-07:00

... there's nothing like an amusing band bio to pass the time between homework assignments.

"College droned on. Each of my nervous breakdowns fell away when I made the most important decision of my life: to be a total failure. A professional failure. I relocated to Austin, as did Seth, and Okkervil River was born. The name comes from a story by Tatyana Tolstaya, and it's a real river outside of St. Petersburg. At our first gig, they misspelled our name as "Okkerut River." Later, Electric Lounge advertised us as"Occerville River." The failure had begun. We were elated.

Gigless ciphers, we nonetheless retired to our friend Jeff Hoskins' downtown Austin studio to set to tape our First Major Statement to the world. We emerged a few days later and presented the product of our labors, entitled Stars Too Small to Use, in the hands that stretched out beneath our tearstained eyes. The record struck the earth with such force and precision that it resounded against the surrounding sky like a clapper in a gigantic bell, and we gained one new fan. We promptly added him to the band."

"you should wreck his life the way that he wrecked yours"

2005-10-26T19:44:00.000-07:00

I almost didn't go to see Okkervil River. My show-going enthusiasm has increased somewhat over the last couple of months, but I'm still not really into going to shows by myself. But I had a ticket that I had purchased back in August, so I figured I'd better get my ass out there. I'm not regretting my decision.

I arrived late on purpose - I'm too old and decrepit to be standing up through two opening bands - so I missed the first band, Low Skies. The second band was listed as Band of Horses, but they introduced themselves as Horses. (I wonder if Patti Smith insisted on a name change.) There was a lot of facial hair and tattoos on the stage, and I wasn't sure what to expect. But they turned out to be a plaintive country-ish band much in the same vein as the headliner, and the singer had a great wailing high voice. Me likey. And it was fun to see Okkervil's frontman Will Sheff rocking out over by the side of the stage, with his bedhead and thick glasses. He's certainly one of the cutest dorks in indie-rock.

The stage rapidly became a forest of mic stands and other equipment (two keyboards, an accordion, and a pedal steel guitar) as Okkervil River got ready. One of the keyboardists set up so close to me that I could've played the keyboard, which was a little weird. Soon the band ambled out and Will, in a baggy white shirt with a tie and a hand-knitted scarf, announced that they'd just played twenty-two dates in Europe, he'd gotten strep throat but the doctor gave him steroids and antibiotics, and "now I'm almost half the man I used to be." Everyone cheered. He also explained that the band's supply of Maker's Mark had mysteriously vanished between their arrival and the show, and asked for shots. "It's for medicinal purposes," he explained.

Will then removed his glasses - I guess he's afraid of losing them while rocking - and the band proceeded to kick ass. Okkervil River has always struck me as being a little bit uneven - when they're on, they're really on, especially with the upbeat tunes, but their slow laments in 3/4 time tend to blend into each other. I didn't feel that way last night. Especially because they had a trumpet player. I've decided that horn sections are the MSG of rock. Whether it's the Decemberists' "16 Military Wives" or Wilco's "I'm the Man Who Loves You" or anything by Neutral Milk Hotel, or even my favorite Beatles song "For No One," horns make everything sound better. Okkervil River's trumpet player was no exception, and I actually got a little weepy during some of his solos.

The setlist included pretty much all of my favorite songs - "The War Criminal Rises and Speaks," "Seas Too Far to Reach," "Blanket and Crib," "For Real," and a particular highlight, "Black" - one of the best songs off their latest album, "Black Sheep Boy." As they were banging their way through that song - Will jumping around the stage, the keyboardist in front of me grinning his ass off - I had one of those euphoric moments that you only get when a great band is playing a great song and everything is absolutely perfect and you can't stop smiling or dancing. The last time I felt that way was when I saw Wilco playing "Late Greats" in Oakland last year. It's a rare thing, and one to be treasured.

The set went on, someone brought shots for the band, I feared for Will's pretty Martin guitar because he kept swinging it around, and the guy next to me left and I invited a young girl even smaller than me up to his spot at the front of the stage. "I have to watch out for short people," I explained to her. She was really, really excited and every so often we'd just grin at each other. The band played some songs that I didn't know, but everyone else seemed to know, which made me feel a little chagrined, but they were great songs so I didn't care. During one of them, the trumpet player played a tape recorder, holding it up to the microphone. For the encore, they played two more songs that I didn't know - a slow one ("because you guys are too hyped up") where Will played harmonica, and a rocker where he kept jumping around even though he was still wearing the harmonica stand. By this time he was thoroughly hoarse and shouting his way through the lyrics. I gotta love a band that really gives their all like that.

So that's all that happened. I'm certainly not sorry I went. Since I may be moving to Austin next year, I hope to be seeing Okkervil River a lot more often. I can only hope.

I belong to the - generation

2005-10-20T21:54:00.000-07:00

... and I can take or leave it each time.

When I was young and full of grace, back in 1994 or thereabouts, my friend Colin made me a mix tape called "Proven Conclusively That The Late 70's Are Where It's At!!!" It included tracks by Television, the Buzzcocks, Elvis Costello, Richard Hell and the Voidoids, the Dead Kennedys, Sparks, Blondie, Patti Smith, Kraftwerk, Can, the Germs, and other luminaries of those times. Needless to say, having been unaquainted with these artists previously, this tape precipitated a massive shift in my musical taste. Pretty soon I was listening to "Singles Going Steady" and "Marquee Moon" every day, becoming deeply obsessed with Elvis Costello, and wishing I had a time machine so I could go back to 1976 and see shows at CBGB's.

Ten years later, I still firmly believe that the late 70's are, indeed, where it's at, and I'm still working on getting that time machine. So I was really excited to read in the weekly paper that none other than Richard Hell was doing a reading at Powell's Books. OK, so he wasn't going to sing "Blank Generation" or tell stories about hanging out with Johnny Thunders, but still - Richard Hell! One of the cornerstones of punk rock, co-founder of Television, the guy whose style Malcolm McLaren ripped off shamelessly when creating the Sex Pistols. Of course I had to go.

There was a respectable crowd at the bookstore when I showed up - ranging from young music geeks clutching copies of "Blank Generation" to old punks wearing CBGB's pins on their leather jackets. Pretty soon, the man himself made his appearance. Now, Richard Hell was once a rather sexy young man, but now, predictably, he looks kinda old. Actually, he looks really Jewish now - I'd read somewhere that he was one of my people, and it's pretty easy to spot these days.

He started off by praising Portland for being "seedy," enthusiastically describing the neon signs and strip clubs of Old Town. Then he read a few passages from his new novel, "Godlike," about an older poet who befriends and eventually has sex with an arrogant young admirer. It wasn't bad, but I squirmed a bit when I noticed that there was a young kid in the crowd, maybe about ten years old, who looked uncomprehending as Hell described a graphic sex scene. Hell mentioned that everyone thinks he's gay because he writes about gay sex, then added cheerfully, "You know what I always say to that? Sex is gay, man. Real men don't have sex."

Then it was question and answer time. An older guy asked if he still talks to Tom Verlaine. "Ahh, I don't wanna reminisce about the old rock n' roll days. Yeah, we still talk sometimes." A teenager asked, "Is Tom Verlaine gay?" and everyone laughed. "Not that I know of." Someone asked about going out and touring again, a suggestion which was summarily rejected. I couldn't think of any questions, but wished my fellow Portlanders' questions hadn't been so stupid.

So I ended up grabbing a copy of the book and getting it signed, and still couldn't think of anything to say. But I did shake the hand of a punk rock legend, and I guess that's what counts.

eeewwwww

2005-10-19T13:42:00.000-07:00

So my friend Brianne has been trying to spread the gospel of U2 (whom I have always disliked). She made a great mix of U2 songs that don't sound like U2, which almost had me convinced. Then, today, I saw this:

Remember when I was talking about how you have to separate musicians' personalities from their music? It's getting harder and harder these days.

conversation with a "music fan"

2005-10-15T14:52:00.000-07:00

"Oh yeah, I'm a huge music fan. I'm really into music. I have a really big record collection and I dig all kinds of stuff. I'm really open-minded and knowledgable about music."

"Oh, cool. Hey, I just found this Glenn Branca record at -"

"Is that one of those 'avant-garde' guys? That's not music."

"Um, OK... Hey, I wanted to check out some records by Astor Piazzola, he's a classical -"

"Classical? That stuff's boring."

"Oh, and I got a Public Enemy album, finally. It's pretty awesome."

"Oh, 'rap music.' Crap music, you mean."

"Uh... right. So I was listening to the radio the other day, and they were playing this awesome music from Mali and Burkina Faso..."

"Come on, who wants to hear that stuff? You can't even understand what they're saying."

"Whatever. Well, you must like jazz, at least."

"Well, sure, if it's old. That new stuff is just too weird."

"Do you like anything else? Since you're such a big music fan and all."

"I like rock n' roll, man!"

"Oh, so did you know that Sonic Youth are starting work on their new -"

"That's not rock, that's just noise!"

"Hmm, do you like Ted Leo? He's pretty ass-kicking."

"Isn't that indie-rock? I hate that stupid hipster music."

and so on and so on and so on...

here in the buffet car...

2005-10-08T23:20:00.000-07:00

I first heard of Colin Meloy when he posted on the Fegmaniax list about a Robyn Hitchcock tribute show he was organizing in my newly adopted hometown of Portland. Back in those days he was a mere wandering troubadour, playing his hurdy-gurdy on the street corner for pennies. My friends and I formed an ad hoc band called the Spacecats and performed along with Colin, his uncle Paul, and a variety of other local artists. Five years later, Colin Meloy and his fellow Decemberists are globehopping superstars, but I always associate him inextricably with Robyn Hitchcock. Thus, it was fitting (and very exciting) that last month at Portland's annual MusicFestNW, the two finally performed on the same bill. The event was sufficiently momentous that several Robyn/Colin fans flew across the country to witness the grandeur.

The first act was Eric Bachman of Crooked Fingers - an artist I enjoy to a certain extent, but whose music always depresses me deeply. We arrived halfway through his set, which was just him solo, and were a bit too excited to pay much attention to him. Robyn himself was playing second - which seemed totally wrong to me... the guy who's had a 25-year career and influenced everyone from REM to Rhett Miller, was opening for Colin? But I remembered that he had played an early show the last time he was here - maybe he just wants to go to bed early.

At any rate, the grand old man of the absurd hit the stage wearing his usual incredibly loud shirt, his now-silver hair for once not hanging in his eyes. He played a variety of his old hits, including several I'd never heard live before. In the chorus of "I Often Dream of Trains," instead of singing, "I'm waiting for you, baby," he sang, "I'm waiting for you... Colin." I imagined Colin wetting himself backstage. Halfway through the set, Robyn was joined by three other grand old men - the members of the Minus 5, namely Scott McCaughey of the Young Fresh Fellows, Bill Rieflin, formerly of Ministry (!), and none other than Peter Buck of REM. Peter added his signature jangly guitar arpeggios to "Birdshead" and a few new songs, while Scott sang harmony and played the bass rather badly. Naturally, being in the Pacific Northwest, they had to play "Viva SeaTac," which was received joyfully by the crowd.

During the interval, Colin's uncle Paul, who'd been hobnobbing with the rock stars backstage, came out to say hi to us and I asked him for permission to release the recordings of that long ago Robyn tribute show. He said that was OK, so hopefully soon you'll all get to hear Colin singing "Flesh Cartoons" and other Robyn favorites.

Colin came out, looking a bit nervous, and confessed that sitting backstage with Robyn, Scott, and Peter was his "fifteen-year-old wet dream." He put on an admirable show, though, including a rapturous performance of "On the Bus Mall" (written about Portland, by the way) and a cover of a Brian Jonestown Massacre song, since Anton Newcombe and co. were performing across town at the same time. He was, as always, extremely charming onstage, with a dry, rather arch manner which I believe he picked up from Mr. Hitchcock. My well-travelled friends were very satisfied by both sets.

After the show, I asked Colin if he had gotten an opportunity to change his trousers yet. He replied, "I'll never change them again."

Googlism action

2005-10-04T21:40:00.000-07:00

Inspired by my friend Brianne, I decided to find out what Googlism thinks of my favorite rock stars.

Thurston is president of Thurston
Thurston is in love with color
Thurston is active in the practice of obstetrics
Thurston is already high
Thurston is a good sport
Thurston is terrific
Thurston is the owner and chief instructor of Darkstar martial arts

Jim is tired and formulaic
Jim is all confused
Jim is alive and well
Jim is dead
Jim is a comic mastermind
Jim is forced to crashland on the strange world of Ibberspleen IV
Jim is gay (no, he's KING!)
Jim is available for stud service (!!!)
Jim is not "obligated" to do anything
Jim is an ordinary earthworm from Texas who gets caught up in a galactical conflict of epic proportions

Crutchy is on drugs
Crutchy is adorable swirly
Crutchy is the "crip" of the group
Crutchy is my grandfather
Crutchy is acting a little strange and scaring the heck out of people

Jeff is da man
Jeff is the type of person who will go 100% for you
Jeff is here to pump you up
Jeff is a squid
Jeff is a gangsta rapper
Jeff is very hot
Jeff is a classical presentation of diabetic ketoacidosis
Jeff is an ordained minister in the christian church
Jeff is probably an adulterer
Jeff is seriously the nicest guy ever
Jeff is making my life easier

torrent till it hurts!

2005-09-26T16:09:00.000-07:00

Well, I've had a few musical adventures since my last post, but I'll save my stories for later... right now I'd like to alert the technologically-minded to three recent torrents on dimeadozen.org, to wit:

Gastr del Sol, live 5/6/95 - Jim n' David open for Tortoise, accompanied (presumably) by the iron thews of John McEntire. The performance (including "Dictionary of Handwriting," "Black Horse," and other angular faves) is great, but what's even more amazing is how silent the audience is, at least while the band is playing. No stage patter from the dynamic duo, but then, David doesn't strike me as the "hello, Cleveland!" type.

Gastr del Sol live in Atlanta, 9/23/05 - DVD - I haven't finished downloading this yet, but I reckon some thrift-store blazers, bad haircuts, and thick glasses will be on display. According to the seeder, it includes Jim's cover of John Fahey's "Dry Bones in the Valley," which on record is magnificent and is no doubt even better live.

Jim O'Rourke live in London, 6/27/00 - the only live recording (that I know of) of Jim playing his Drag City material. Accompanied by a full band, including brilliant cornetist Rob Mazurek, Jim sounds nervous but genial and the songs sound terrific. Unfortunately, the recording is fairly crappy and the final track is irredemably glitchy, but enough comes through to make the download worthwhile. "Is my popcorn done? It was supposed to be in for 5 minutes and I've left it in for 40 minutes..."

Coming up soon: How I met Richard Hell and how Colin Meloy lived out his wet dream... next on EBLS!

Everything sounds like Coldplay

2005-09-10T18:08:00.000-07:00

I was alerted to this hilarious Coldplay parody by the good folks at Stereogum. Not only is the song spot-on, but the collection of cliches that comprises the video is perfect - I especially like the guy walking backwards on the city street.

yup... I am still Drag City's bitch

2005-09-07T05:36:00.000-07:00

You'd better believe it!

This month, our friends in Chicago have graced us with an ever swelling smorgasboard of treats. First of all, remember when David Grubbs used to ROCK? Neither do I, but those glory days have been preserved for posterity, as previously noted in this very blog, in the form of Bastro's "Antlers: Live 1991," which was released earlier this year for about five minutes and has been repressed for a second release in October. Listen to the extraordinary bad-assity of Hirscheneck.

Secondly, feel free to dig this video for Smog's "I Feel Like the Mother of the World. Bill makes a surprisingly authentic-looking newscaster. Also, remember when I was talking about Bill's, uh, interesting stage presence? Yeah.

Gastr del Sol > > > > Belle & Sebastian

2005-09-06T17:30:00.000-07:00

You're Avante Garde Indie. You listen to abstract
music like free-jazz and Krautrock. You drink
too much coffee and you scare the fuck out of
the rest of us. We're afraid to call you
pretentious because we know that we all just
don't get it. There are few of you out there,
and most of you will probably die soon.

You Know Yer Indie. Let's Sub-Categorize.
brought to you by Quizilla

births and deaths

2005-08-29T22:35:00.000-07:00

EBLS would like to extend a slightly belated "happy birthday!" to Jeff Tweedy and Elvis Costello, both born August 25th. (Jeff turned 38, Elvis turned 51.) The coincidence of two such immensely talented songwriters being born on the same day almost makes me believe in astrology. But on the other hand, you have a 1 in 365 chance of being born on someone else's birthday, so the odds aren't that great. Whatever. Happy birthday.

Also, an RIP to musique concrete pioneer Luc Ferrari, who died on August 22nd, aged 76. Moog and Ferrari within two days of each other - is there some sort of plot against creative music going on? Again, it's a coincidence, but a sad one.

From freeform station WFMU's blog, David Grubbs eulogizes Luc Ferrari. And from The Wire's website, Jim O'Rourke talks about Ferrari, among other things, in an old "Invisible Jukebox" interview. "The one thing I've noticed about all of them that I've met, like [Pierre] Henry and Ferrari... they're all, like, total womanizers. They surround themselves with women, it's crazy. So for a while, I was like - musique concrete is the way to go! Didn't quite work for me... but it sure worked for them. They're, like, 60 and it's working for them... 'Come on over and watch me splice some tape, baby!'"

I'll dress sexy at your funeral, Bill...

2005-08-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

I love Smog for so many reasons. Bill Callahan's deep, dour voice. His terse, morbidly funny lyrics ("It's our anniversary, and you've hidden my keys / this is one anniversary you're spending with me"). The fact that he's worked with two of my other favorite musicians, Jim O'Rourke and John McEntire. And, of course, he is extremely hot. Mm-hmm.

The first opening band was Portland's own Corrina Repp, a folky singer-songwriter with a pleasantly husky voice. I'd seen her once before, opening for the Decemberists... and speaking of which, the young lady accompanying her was none other than ex-Decemberist Rachel Blumberg. Not only was she rocking the drums as usual, but also simultaneously playing keyboards. She's got mad skills, that Rachel. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the second opening band, Heavenly States. I was expecting another Smog-like acoustic band, but these guys were very loud, high-energy power-pop. The energy - and a bad-ass violinist - were the only things going for them. They were pretty bad. The singer's awkward stage patter didn't help.

After a rather excessively long wait (technical troubles, I think), Bill and his band finally made their appearance. The squat hairy drummer, whom I believe is Jim White of Dirty Three, was wearing the same ink-stained shirt he was wearing the last time I saw Smog, last November. It looked like it hadn't been washed since. There was also a tall skinny female bassist and an electric guitarist who was a dead ringer for Bill Gates. (Perhaps Mr. Gates has many talents we know not of.) Bill himself was wearing a cowboy shirt, unbuttoned enough to show some chest hair (hubba hubba) and jeans. He wore his acoustic guitar up by his chest, as usual.

The first part of the set was all songs from Smog's latest, "A River Ain't Too Much to Love." I like this album, but I have to say that performed live, it's not very exciting - all the songs are slow and have the same country strum. I was hoping they'd play "The Well" (one of the few non-strummy songs on the album), but no such luck. Jim White is an extremely bad-ass drummer - a little too bad-ass, as his pyrotechnics tended to drown out the simple song structures. Still, he was entertaining to watch. The Bill Gates guitarist is a good addition to the live band, adding little accents and harder sounds when the songs got more rocking…. which they did, as the second part of the setlist was all older songs, including a revved-up versions of "Dress Sexy at My Funeral" and "Cold-Blooded Old Times" and the finale, a long jamming rendition of "Let's Move to the Country." "Blood Red Bird," "Vessel in Vain," and "Anniversary" were some of the other older songs on the setlist. I would've liked to hear some of his even older stuff, like "37 Push-Ups," but I reckon Bill might have eschewed the "lo-fi" part of his back catalogue.

Throughout the show, Bill favored us with a full array of his patented weird stage moves, doing little dances, going down on his knees, duck-walking, kicking the support on his guitar stand so it twirled around, pacing around the stage. All of these activities were performed with an extremely solemn demeanor, without acknowledging the audience, as if he was practicing rock star moves in his bedroom. He screwed up his face as if in pain while singing some lyrics, ignored some annoying hecklers, and eventually actually smiled a bit, both at the audience and his bandmates. He has a great smile.

The audience probably would have wanted a second encore, but there was a "disco" scheduled for midnight, so we didn't get one. As we were walking out, my friends - who had been sitting in the back - excitedly pointed out Britt Daniel of Spoon, who was leaving the venue with a lady friend. And that's all that happened.

Ryan Adams sings Sonic Youth?? / RIP

2005-08-22T14:52:00.000-07:00

Continuing in the "weird covers" theme, here's Ryan Adams singing "Expressway To Yr Skull." It's actually not half bad.

In other news, electronic music pioneer Robert Moog has passed away at age 71. All hail the master, and thank you for the music.

Death Cab and them Decemberists sing Fleetwood Mac

2005-08-21T16:28:00.000-07:00

For your delectation, here's a video of Colin, Ben, and the gang singing "Go Your Own Way" at Summerstage in New York. Lovely!

Download soon because I don't know how long this is going to be available. Warning: it's 250 megabytes.

I'm so sorry

2005-08-18T19:56:00.000-07:00

Benefit for Beth Ditto of the Gossip

2005-08-16T17:05:00.000-07:00

Beth Ditto is one of the awesomest, sassiest frontladies in rock. This show was to raise funds to help pay for her emergency gall bladder surgery - a very worthy cause. The show was at the Doug Fir, one of Portland's newer venues, with faux-timber walls and a large hipster clientele, who fortunately were less annoying than usual on this occasion.

I arrived too late to see the first band, Die Monitr Bats, so I never figured out whether that's "die" as in "cease to live" or "die" as in the German feminine article. Never mind. The next act was Sarah Dougher, who's one of those artists whose name I'd heard a lot, especially since I moved to Portland five years ago, but I'd never heard her music. She turned out to be a fairly competent folk-rock singer with a strong voice and a really cool guitar (an orange Epiphone hollow-body with a single cutaway, for you gearheads). She wasn't really doing anything new, but she did it well, and told a cool story about Beth Ditto chewing out the British press for making fun of the size of Missy Elliott's ass.

So then it was time for the main attraction - the Decemberists, playing their last show in Portland before embarking on their fall tour. After a long wait, John Moen came onstage and began thundering out the intro to "The Infanta." This is the first time I've gotten a good look at him, and without his indie-rock glasses, he looks kinda like a burlier version of Nels Cline. This is a good thing. The rest of the band soon followed, along with a four-person horn section (two saxes, two trumpets) and the rockitude began. The band was obviously in high spirits and the set was punctuated by a lot of goofing around, rambling monologues, and general shenanigans. Colin decried the pathetic state of healthcare coverage in the U.S., and a very excited Jenny interrupted his speech to announce that she'd gotten her stolen accordion back. Apparently they'd found a bunch of their nicked gear at Portland Music Company. Don't shop there.

The setlist was a mix of songs from all of their albums, plus several covers. I had been thinking at the beginning of the show that I'd never heard "Angel, Won't You Call Me?" (one of my favorite Decemberists songs) performed live, and to my delight, they played it - a "countrified" version, said Colin. Another highlight was Petra's solo rendering of Fairport Convention's "Tam Lin," which she was very nervous about but pulled off splendidly. She did hippie-style "noodle dances" during the instrumental breaks. Crutchy played the hammer dulcimer dramatically during "For My Own True Love" and everyone sang along with "16 Military Wives." "I Was Meant for the Stage" culminated with the usual complete chaos, and then it got even more ridiculous as the band covered an ELO song and Colin jumped into the audience and sat down on the floor to tell everyone the tale of Jeff Lynne and his band with two cellos. (Meanwhile, Nate was playing his bass lying on his back.) The last song was the Outfield's classic "Your Love," sung by Crutchy in a falsetto. Colin came out to the edge of the stage, directly in front of me, to solo - I stepped back in alarm, thinking he was going to stagedive, but fortunately he didn't. Eventually Nate was standing on top of his upright bass, Petra appeared to be trying to save her violin from being stepped on, and Colin had blood all over his fingers, presumably from his intense rocking out.

Apart from that, nobody was hurt and everyone went home happy, including me. In fact, I've seen the Decemberists six times now and this was definitely the best show of the lot. Since all proceeds from the show went to Beth Ditto, hopefully she now has a tidy lump of cash to pay for her surgery - or maybe one or two stitches, considering how expensive this stuff is. In conclusion, please support universal healthcare. The end.

musical tourist spots

2005-08-07T00:58:00.000-07:00

So I recently went on a vacation to Chicago, St. Louis, and my home town of Ann Arbor. Naturally, I saw the usual tourist sites - Chicago museums, the Arch, and so forth - but I also visited (or happened upon) a few musical spots of note.

While roaming around Chicago, I noticed many streets - such as Fullerton, Damen, and California - mentioned in various Gastr del Sol songs. (David Grubbs seems a bit hung up on geography.) I got a glimpse of the Marina Towers, as seen on the cover of Wilco's "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot," and a friend dared me to press the buzzer at Soma Studios. Fearing that John McEntire would pummel me, I declined. I also stopped by the top secret location of the Wilco loft, where the band practices. Wild horses couldn't drag the address from me - actually, I don't remember what it is. No band members were around, which is probably just as well. Not far from the loft was the not-so-top secret location of Bloodshot Records, musical home of Neko Case and other alt-country superstars, where my Jedi apprentice used to intern. I helped put together some Waco Brothers promo CD's and got a discount on a shirt and a complimentary Bloodshot bottle opener keychain.

In St. Louis, my friends and I ate lunch at Blueberry Hill, which used to be Cicero's, where Uncle Tupelo got their start. We also took note of many billboards advertising the Casino Queen, the riverboat memorialized in Wilco's song of the same name. ("I've been gambling like a fiend on your tables so green.") As for Ann Arbor, my friend showed me the railroad bridge where the Stooges scraped off the top of their van when they tried to drive under it. The scrapes and dents are still there. I'd seen that bridge many times, of course, but not till I read Please Kill Me: The Oral History of Punk last year did I realize its... uh, historical significance.

Naturally, I also picked up a bunch of new music in between visiting all these notable sites. I haven't listened to everything yet, but so far the winner is the debut album by the Wingdale Community Singers, consisting of David Grubbs, author Rick Moody, and songstress Hannah Marcus. Moody wrote most of the lyrics, and Marcus - who has a dry alto rather reminiscent of Liz Phair - supplies most of the vocals. The songs are mostly about everyday life in New York and are just as literary and evocative as you might expect. My favorite track is Bike Shop Boy, featuring Grubbs as the voice of the eponymous character. This album is definitely a candidate for my obligatory top 10 of 2005.

Another candidate is an album I picked up in Ann Arbor, Archer Prewitt's "Wilderness." For those of you jonesing for Cat Stevens to put out more music, this album is for you - Prewitt's voice is a dead ringer, and the music has a warm 70's songwriter feel to it, without sounding overly retro (unlike Prewitt's previous solo release, "Three," which was a bit much for me to stomach). I fell asleep listening to it on the plane, which is actually a compliment - I used to do the same with Galaxie 500's "On Fire".

I got a bunch of other CD's too, but I'll review them later.

devastating revelation!

2005-07-19T23:44:00.000-07:00

Separated at birth... Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka and Detroit's favorite pugilist, Jack White.

ode to Bob

2005-07-15T00:00:00.000-07:00

(This was originally written for a zine called Staggering Bob. My friend Marc and I had big plans for it, but it never got off the ground.)

We, the editors of Staggering Bob, would here like to pay tribute to one of several Bobs who influenced us in our wanton youth. If you grew up in the 70's in southeast Michigan, and listened to the radio at all, you probably know the Bob whereof we speak: Bob Seger, along with Mitch Ryder the Motor City's only homegrown celebrity, in the eyes of the AOR world, at least. ("Iggy who?" "Funka-what?") Now, we all know Bob is no musical genius, and - unlike many 70's revisionists - we're not about to claim otherwise. But we grew up with him, and his influence must be acknowledged.

Everyone in Ann Arbor who doesn't have an Iggy story, has a Bob story. For instance, my uncle was supposedly Bob's best friend at Ann Arbor High School. My mom used to tell me this with pride, even though she never listened to the radio. I listened to the radio all the time, though. "Wow, Bob's from Ann Arbor, and he's on the radio!" I'd think, apparently unaware that the station was playing him precisely for that reason. I listened to WIQB, which used to be an alternative station and currently plays hard rawk and 10th-generation grunge. But before that, back in the 70's and 80's, it was the true home of white boomer rock. Lots of John Cougar (not yet Mellencamp), Bruce Springsteen, Led Zeppelin, the Doors - basically, Midwestern hesher stuff, designed for Wayne and Garth as well as their parents.

So us little Midwestern kids lay awake at night listening to this, and the voice of Bob would come on, symbolizing what Iggy also symbolized: escape. "She was a black-haired beauty with big dark eyes, with points all her own, set way up high. . ." We were oblivious to the fact that Bob was singing about tits. It just sounded cool in the dark, as cool as when Jim Morrison sang, "There's a killer on the road, his brain is squirming like a toad," or Robert Plant sang, "In the darkest depths of Mordor, I met a girl so fair. . ." Except Bob was one of us, sort of - he grew up where we grew up, hung out with our relatives, and went to our schools, and then he got famous. That made him even cooler.

So we grooved upon Bob, even though we didn't know what he was talking about most of the time, until we got older and realized he wasn't so cool after all. We moved on to music that had more of a hipness factor, changed from WIQB (or "WIMP" as some called it) to the college radio station, WCBN, and learned that the 70's contained more than gravelly-voiced Midwestern laments. But just because Bob wasn't hip doesn't mean he wasn't an important part of our childhood. Bob Seger is as integral to our youth as Proust's madelaine, that turned his thoughts back to his childhood. The sound of Bob's voice singing "Like a Rock" on those Chevrolet ads can bring back the endless summer nights of ignorance, lying in bed with the radio turned low so Mom and Dad wouldn't hear, thinking that someday, too, we would be big and famous, and they'd play us on the radio, and kids would listen at night to our voices ringing out in the warm dark.

Tony Conrad extracts sludge from your brain with his violin bow

2005-07-10T23:17:00.000-07:00

My favorite Ebay seller "mercatorp" has a new goodie for sale that caught my eye - an advance copy of a "new" Tony Conrad album, Bryant Park Moratorium Rally, 1969.

"An October afternoon in 1969. Midtown Manhattan. A rally in Bryant Park against the Vietnam War. Down 42nd Street towards Times Square, Tony Conrad is adjusting microphones in his 5th floor loft, one directed at the TV set - where it will pick up live local news coverage -- the other pointing out the window, where the echo of speeches and crowd noise mingles with the oceanic rush of crosstown traffic. As the event is about to begin, he rolls tape. Thirty-four years later, we hear what he heard."

This is the sort of record that makes avant-garde hatas say, "That's not music!" Obviously, I haven't heard it yet, but based on this description, I'm inclined to agree - although I don't think that's a bad thing. I might call it a "sound piece" or something like that - I would definitely say it's "art" - but perhaps not "music" per se. I'm not really sure, but like John Cage, presenting something like this as "music" makes us start thinking about what the meaning of music really is, which is an important statement in itself. Conrad perpetrated a similar conundrum (or possibly just a practical joke) with his album "Thuunderboy," consisting of recordings of his two-year-old son messing around with turntables. However, these types of recordings may be interesting conceptually, but often aren't that much fun to listen to. I'm not sure if I'm going to pick this one up.

At any rate, looking at mercatorp's other items for sale, I see that he's selling John Fahey's "Womblife" and Arnold Dreyblatt's "The Sound of One String" for $20 apiece. Both of these albums I purchased used for $8.50 apiece. This makes me feel smug inside. I have my eye on Tony Conrad's "Slapping Pythagoras," though - a friend sent me a burned copy of it, so I've heard it already, but I'd like to have the real deal, complete with Table of the Elements' usual gorgeous packaging and liner notes. This album is more in the Tony Conrad style that I've come to know and love - long, long, long violin drones, in this case accompanied by buzzing noise and thumping percussion supplied by the gallant boys of Gastr del Sol and others. The hatas might say this "isn't music" either. I don't really care, I just think it's awesome.

upcoming shows of note

2005-07-09T13:43:00.000-07:00

August 15th - Benefit for Beth Ditto of the Gossip
Beth recently had to undergo gall bladder surgery and has no health insurance. She's one of my heroes - being a big beautiful woman who's unafraid to take her shirt off in public - so even though the ticket was a bit pricey, I will be there. Besides which, this is the only time I'll be able to see the "special guests" before they take off on their fall tour.

August 27th - Smog
Of course I will be in the front row for this one, drooling slightly and hanging over every word uttered in Bill Callahan's inimitable baritone. (No joke, when I saw Smog last year, there were audible female squeals from the audience when Bill hit the stage.) Hopefully he will favor us with his full array of weird stage moves.

September 17th - Banyan (featuring Nels Cline and Mike Watt)
I am considering going down to San Francisco for this one. Nels Cline is bad-ass, of course, and Mike Watt is a freakin' legend, so I have no doubt that they put on a good show. However, I've heard rumors that the re-united Olivia Tremor Control is playing in SF the week before. No confirmation of this yet, but if they don't come to Portland, I may save my $$ for that show instead.

October 25th - Okkervil River
I love these scrappy angst-mongers from Texas. I saw them in March as an opening act for the Decemberists, and they completely won over a crowd who had no idea who they were. Ever since then, I've been itching for a headlining show, and here it is. Some folks have compared throaty singer Will Sheff to Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes. In my humble opinion, Will is to Conor as expensive French Camembert is to Velveeta.

And if we pray really hard and be really good boys and girls, maybe - just maybe - Wilco will come to the Pacific Northwest in the fall. We can only hope.

um... oops

2005-07-08T13:38:00.000-07:00

So the chain of events is as follows:

1. A guy on the Wilco board posts an article about Jeff Tweedy's kids being in an oatmeal commercial. The article quotes the blog of Danny Miller, Jeff's brother-in-law.

2. Being an inquisitive fan, I want to know more. I look up Danny's blog via Google and post a link to the whole story (which is very funny).

3. Someone else posts a wedding photo of Jeff Tweedy and his wife Susan which was in another entry in Danny's blog.

4. Numerous fans freak out, claiming that this is violating the Tweedys' privacy (even though the photo was posted publically).

5. Not wanting to rock the boat, I remove the link to the blog from my original post.

6. Danny Miller posts and says it's all OK.

7. Susan Tweedy posts and says, "I am both horrified and amused, I am both cringing and wanting you to keep reading Danny's blog." The furor settles down.

8. I post an apologetic comment on Danny's blog and he says it's OK and he's enjoying the extra attention.

9. And now I'm blogging about a blog. Oy vey!

This whole situation brings up a number of issues - e.g., privacy on the Internet, how far is too far when it comes to publicizing musicians' private lives, and so forth. I'll go into all that some other time. Right now I just can't believe that some idle curiosity about an oatmeal commercial led to such an uproar. I'll know better next time. I think. Meanwhile, Danny Miller assured me, in his response to my comment, that he'll be posting about Jeff's underwear every Thursday. Stay tuned for the great "boxer vs. briefs" debate.

new Decemberists album cover and track listing!!!!

2005-07-08T00:26:00.000-07:00

Thanks to "Mark Spittle" from the Decemberists board, EBLS now has the hot poop on the newest offering from Portland's finest...

Front cover
Back cover/track list

I have to say that "Here, I Found Your Stupid Bike" and "My Father Was a Quadriplegic U-Boat Helmsman" sound like future Decemberists classics. And I hear they're taking a new, avant-garde turn on "I'd Rather You Stop Hitting Me With That Pipe." I can't wait!

P.S. in case you haven't figured it out yet, this is a joke.

hate me, hate my music?

2005-07-05T22:05:00.000-07:00

So I recently read an old interview with indie troubadour Sufjan Stevens in which he said some extremely stupid things about EBLS (that's my cool new acronym) favorites such as Wilco, Jim O'Rourke, and the Sea and Cake. Possibly the stupidest thing in the interview was his claim that John Fahey is "tedious and uninspired" but he nevertheless puts Fahey's records on display to impress his friends. (I'm seriously hoping this was a joke.) Obviously everyone is entitled to an opinion, but these were some of the most ignorant statements I've ever heard from a professional musician. It seems like he just heard one or two songs from the respective artists and decided to trash them based on that. (Unless, of course, Air Supply have suddenly started working with Tony Conrad and Merzbow, in which case hook me up!)

I don't own any of Stevens' records, so my knee-jerk response to something like this is, "Dang, if he's that dumb, then he must not make very good music. I don't think I'm going to bother to check out any of his stuff." But then there's Chicago, a heartbreakingly gorgeous track from Stevens' new album Illinois. I heard this and was planning to buy the album long before I read that interview. Although its release date has been pushed back due to problems with its cover art, Illinois has been leaked through the internets and is getting rave reviews. Should I not buy the album because Sufjan dissed my beloved O'Rourke? Ehh... I don't think so. But even if the album turns out to be my favorite of the year, there's still going to be a little part of me which thinks Sufjan is an ass.

Speaking of John Fahey, he has an interesting chapter in his book "How Bluegrass Music Destroyed My Life" about how he and several other musicologist types "re-discovered" blues legend Skip James. He talks first about how amazing James' music is and how much it inspired him. Then, upon meeting and talking to James, he discovers that his hero is a murderer, a pimp, and an all-around wretched human being. He never puts down James' music, but you can sense the disappointment and disillusionment in his description of James' past and personality.

I mention this, not because I think Sufjan Stevens is the equivalent of a murderer because he doesn't like Wilco, but because it shows how hard and yet how necessary it is to put a dividing line between a musician and their music. It is definitely disappointing to discover that a person who makes great music is not such a great person. Television's Marquee Moon is one of my favorite albums of all time, but I've read many interviews with and about Tom Verlaine which reveal him to be (in my opinion, anyway) an egocentric, domineering jerk. I've never stopped listening to Television, but it's still a bit of a bummer. Conversely, it's always nice to discover that a favorite musician is a really great person (e.g., the aforementioned Steve Shelley), and it may make you appreciate their music even more - or it may lead you to over-value music that maybe you wouldn't have liked so much otherwise.

Maybe it's best to be ignorant about musicians' personalities. I'd certainly appreciate Ryan Adams a lot more if I knew nothing about his bratty rock-star behavior. But then, if you love someone's music, you want to know what makes them tick. It's just one of those conundrums of being a fan, I guess.

wait - what does E2 stand for?

2005-06-26T00:10:00.000-07:00

So I had the great pleasure, on Friday night, of participating in John Zorn's improv game Cobra, along with a bunch of other Portland musicians including Jenny Conlee, Chris "Crutchy McGee" Funk, and Rachel Blumberg of the Decemberists. (Actually, Rachel is a former Decemberist, but never mind.) Crutchy was the gamemaster and coordinator of the event, and had put out a call for musicians on the Decemberists message board. I'd seen Crutchy presiding over a game of Cobra a few years ago in Portland, and had also seen Zorn himself and a bunch of NYC cronies perform Cobra in Ann Arbor, and was very impressed by both performances, so I was really excited (and nervous) about participating in this one.

Crutchy sent out a copy of the rules to all the participating musicians. The idea is that he (as the gamemaster) selects certain musicians to perform certain functions in the course of the game. The commands are conveyed by holding up cards with abbreviations for the functions, such as soloing, trading solos, "events" (an abrupt blast of noise), and "sound memories" (playing something that you've played before). This was apparently a simplified version of Cobra - the real thing is much more complicated. Nevertheless, everyone had cheat sheets which were consulted frequently in the course of the game.

I found myself with my archtop and a malfunctioning pick-up and amp (which shrieked with feedback every time I turned it up), seated behind an electric guitarist, between a drummer and a balalaika player, and in front of a bunch of guys playing drums and xylophones. Other players included singers, saxophonists, several other drummers, and an oboist. I didn't get to play a whole lot, since there were so many musicians involved, but I did end up trading solos with the balalaika player, which was pretty cool. The trickiest part was not remembering the commands, but rather not getting distracted by all the amazing musicians who were involved.

It was really interesting seeing Cobra from the point of view of a performer rather than an audience member. I realized that Cobra is not just about the musicians, but about the gamemaster as well. Crutchy obviously was selecting musicians to play whom he thought would sound good (or at least striking) together, and was pretty much composing a piece as he went along, using the unpredictable responses of the musicians. If Zorn or someone else had been the gamemaster, the pieces might have sounded very different.

Anyway, it was super cool and really fun. Apparently Crutchy might be doing this again, and hopefully I'll be able to participate next time as well.

whatevuh!

2005-06-23T23:31:00.000-07:00

Check out this video of Wilco singing Love Will Keep Us Together at a tiny New York bar the day before their triumphant New Year's show at Madison Square Garden. I especially enjoy Mike Jorgensen's groovy keyboard solo while simultaneously keeping the keyboard balanced on his lap.

So after bypassing the Pacific Northwest on their summer tour (BOOO!), Chicago's finest are supposedly headed back into the studio to start recording the follow-up to "A Ghost Is Born," which got a bit of a mixed reception from critics and fans. I personally thought it was good, but a little disappointing. But I have high hopes: Wilco are now armed with their new weapon of mass destruction, avant-jazz genius Nels Cline. I'm looking forward to some serious guitar freak-outs and maybe having my eardrums destroyed by Nels' fury. Yes, yes!

I was just thinking about my previous entry and awkward conversations with musicians - awkward both due to shyness and the presence of other fans who want to talk to Jeff Tweedy just as badly as you do. I was wondering what I might ask my musical heroes if I actually got to sit down and formally interview them (like, say, for this blog). All I could think of was asking Jim O'Rourke where he gets all those nifty vintage cardigans and why he wears them when it's insanely hot out. I guess I won't be doing any interviews for the glossies just yet.

I heart Pitchfork

2005-06-23T00:19:00.000-07:00

So I had a look at the freshly-minted edition of Pitchfork and they're raving about an unsigned Brooklyn band called Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah. I nipped over to their website to check out some song samples, and found yet another modestly poppy New Wave-inspired indie-rock band with a lead singer who sounds like David Byrne (see also: Arcade Fire). I guess this is the new generic indie rock sound of today, just as Pavement and other "slacker" bands were the generic indie-rock sound of the 90's. I have to say I like today's sound better than the sound of yore, but I'm not exactly peeing my pants over it.

Speaking of pants-peeing, I wonder when the Pitchfork panty-wetters are going to stop mentioning Neutral Milk Hotel every time another hip young band comes along. Clap Your Hands (not to mention the Arcade Fire) sound nothing like NMH apart from having an idiosyncratic vocalist. NMH were a singular phenomenon. The only artists I would compare to them are deranged geniuses like Syd Barrett and Skip Spence - not the indie-rock buzz band of the week, and NOT the Decemberists (despite some superficial similarities). You don't go comparing artists to Syd Barrett every day - so why is Jeff Mangum constantly being invoked? Just stop it.

Prediction: Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah will be huge.

In other news, I'd like to extend a big fat Happy Birthday to Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley, born June 23rd, 1963 in bustling Midland, Michigan. Steve is one of the few "celebrities" I've ever had a coherent conversation with (as opposed to "You are so awesome" - "Thank you very much"). I also grew up in Michigan and I met Steve's sister once, so there was actually something to talk about. He's a very nice guy. Rock on, my Midwestern brotha.

tee-hee

2005-06-19T11:53:00.000-07:00

DJ Ben Gibbard and DJ Colin Meloy.

an insomniac meanders back in time...

2005-06-18T03:01:00.000-07:00

Out of curiosity, I went to the Sonic Youth database to see if they had the setlist for my first Sonic Youth show, in 1992. Yup! Here it is... 12/12/92, in Leeds, UK, at the Town and Country Club:

Shoot
100%
Kool Thing
Swimsuit Issue
Eric's Trip
Sugar Kane
Schizophrenia
Theresa's Sound-World
Silver Rocket
Tom Violence
Drunken Butterfly
Orange Rolls, Angel's Spit
--
Youth Against Fascism
I Love Her All The Time

Since the only SY albums I owned at the time were Goo and Daydream Nation, it's no wonder that I remember virtually none of this, except for Eric's Trip (which I was very excited about!). I don't even remember Kool Thing, which was the first SY song I ever heard. I thought they also played Candle, but I'm sure I'm confusing that with a pre-show conversation with a friend who asked me what songs I wanted them to play, Candle being one of them. Clearly senility is setting in... I burned a lot of brain cells in the subsequent few years. Pavement was the opening band and they sucked... but their crazy drummer passed out Tiddleywinks to audience members before the show, which was pretty funny.

My main memory of the show is of Lee breaking a string, and Thurston attempting to make conversation while he fixed it. "So this is Leeds.... what do you do all day?"

a confession and a denunciation

2005-06-16T13:15:00.000-07:00

No doubt Jack Black would call me a complete loser for not owning records by Gram Parsons, The Carter Family, the Ramones, and Public Enemy, among others. He might say, "You have two records by Loren Mazzacane fucking Connors and NOTHING BY THE RAMONES???" Well, yeah... I've always liked the Ramones, but all I own by them is a taped copy of "Rocket to Russia" that my friend Jessica made me in high school. I have one song by Gram Parsons on the aforementioned alt-country sampler and Uncle Tupelo's cover of The Carter Family's "No Depression," and nothing at all by Public Enemy. No doubt I am going straight to music hell.

... that is, if you believe that there is a prescribed canon of musical taste which you must adhere to or else you're an ignorant moron.... such as the asshole who gave me a lecture on my "deficiencies in musical taste" because I don't care about the Replacements. This occurred on a music message board, of course. I truly do believe that online music forums make Jack Blacks of us all. When people insult you personally because of your musical tastes and trash your favorite bands on a regular basis, it breeds defensiveness and more asshole-ish behavior. Forums that are meant for fans to express their mutual enthusiasm turn into pissing contests and one-upmanship. Being online brings out the worst in everyone - it's easy to trash someone when you don't have to do it to their face. It's a vicious cycle that never ends.

Music forums have a good side too - I've met a lot of cool people (many of whom comprise the primary audience for this blog) and been turned on to a lot of cool music via online message boards and mailing lists. But it often seems like the bad outweighs the good.

uh-oh...

2005-06-13T23:50:00.000-07:00

Tonight one of my friends compared me to the belligerent music snob character played by Jack Black in High Fidelity. I then recounted the time that Matt said he wanted to get a Belle & Sebastian T-shirt, and I said something like, "You might as well get a shirt that says I AM A PUSSY across the front."

I swear I wasn't like this before I started posting on music message boards... oy vey...

Discover a lovelier you

2005-06-12T20:06:00.000-07:00

If you're so inclined, you may listen to large portions of the new Pernice Brothers record here. Also be sure to check out the hilarious Joe Pernice "Cribs" episode, on the same page.

Adams vs. Tweedy Celebrity Death Match!

2005-06-10T00:12:00.000-07:00

(Alas, I am not responsible for this.... I believe it's a relic from the No Depression folder on AOL. Enjoy, anyway.)

Welcome to Celebrity Death Match!

JG: I'm Johnny Gomez, and with me as always Nick Diamond! Tonight, we put on our flannel shirts and cowboy boots and go "alt country" as the kids say...

ND: What do the kids mean when they say that? Alt-country? Just what the hell is that?

JG: I wouldn't know if I stepped in it, Nick, or care, but what I do know is that tonight's death match will be a no-holds-barred bloody battle between two of the leading practitioners of this sound, both known for their attitude and disagreeable sullen personalities. Let's introduce our brawlers! From Chicago by way of St. Louis, let's welcome that bad boy of Wilco, Jeff Tweedy! And from Nashville, that mixed up monster who used to be in a band called Whiskeytown, Ryan Adams!

ND: I'm having a hard time telling them apart, Johnny! The flannel, the scuffed boots, the faded jeans, the unshaven faces and shaggy unwashed hair! The acoustic guitars! Which one is which?

JG: A good question and I don't have an answer for you. I thought one of them was gonna be Bryan Adams. I'm a big fan of that rocker, but this guy?! I'm gonna have a word with our producers! This is really scraping the bottom of the celebrity barrel here!

ND: Yes, Johnny, we're all longing for the days of Sting getting the crap beat out of his "soul cage! " Oh well, we might as well go to the floor cos the fight is about to start!

JG: First, I'd like to note that this is one of the smallest audiences we've ever had here. And what's with the way they look? Flannel shirts, boots, dirty wife beater tee shirts, eyeglasses, crossed arms and those are the women!

ND: Yes, and all the men look like record label guys, internet geeks and radio dj's! We're already out of cheap beer! Can this fight get any uglier?

JG: We're about to find out, Nick! Here's Mills Lane to get this fight underway!

[Jeff Tweedy and Ryan Adams, circling each other]

JT: So you just gonna keep copying my moves, Adams? Huh! Figures! Why don't you put out a pop album next?!

RA: Guess you didn't hear "Amy" off "Heartbreaker" a critical fav! And talk about aping riffs! Why don't you fire another dude from wilco?

JT: So when's that double album coming out?

ND: Oh boy, this is the dullest fight we've ever had!

JG: You said it, Nick! But look there! They are both making a move for their acoustic guitars! Uh oh, whichever one is first with a G chord followed by a Em is gonna land the first blow!

ND: And there it is! Tweedy fires off a simple two-chord progression, and Adams is reeling!

JT: Hah! [singing] " Little little coo joo, I'm a gonna do you!"

JG: Adams is shaking it off, and it looks like - oh baby! He's cracked that valuable Martin acoustic right into Tweedy's chops! Why bother with lyrics when you have that bad boy image! And he's on Tweedy like an Uncle Tupelo fan is on to Napster for a rare demo recording of Whiskey Bottle!

ND: Huh?

JG: I don't know, I'm just reading the script! Ooh, I've never seen guitar strings do that before!

ND: Betcha Tweedy won't be making music with that sound hole anytime soon!

RA: Sorry, dude, but Jay Farrar's not hiding in your colon! I checked it for you.

ND: It looks like Tweedy is down, but he's reaching in his pocket for.....oh! A harmonica!

JG: Noooo! He's not gonna play it, is he?

ND: Thankfully no! He's just gonna......

JG: ....ram it into Adams' left ear! Wow, now he's blowing into it, and watch as Adams' eardrums blow! Hah! So much for hearing his critical raves!

ND: Yes, I'd say acceptance in critical intensive care is what he's craving right now! Ok, they are both back in the corners, and the blood has been flowing here at celebrity death match!

JG: What's Tweedy up to now?

ND: It appears that he has someone in his corner! It's.....it's.....I'm told that it's his right hand man Jay Bennett! And look at the load of keyboards and antique sound equipment he has with him! It's as if Tweedy's puny body is enhanced by layers and layers of lush keyboard sounds! It's a musical shield! How is Adams gonna penetrate that, I wonder?!!

JG: We're about to find out....seems as tho Ryan is doing some sort of mumbo jumbo with chicken bones and.....a mist is forming in front of Tweedy now...it's a spirit, it's.....oh my god, Adams has summoned the spirit of the cosmic cowboy Gram Parsons! Look at the pot leaves on that nudie suit! What a hippie!! How is this gonna help?!!

ND: Hey, I wouldn't laugh if I were you, this is getting weird! I'll admit I don't see the rationale of bringing in another scrawny long haired punk, but it does seem to be confusing Tweedy!

JT: [voice muffled as if surrounded by sound waves] Hey man, is that you, Gram? Whoa, dude, this is cool!

[GP smiles widely at JT, who smiles back and waves]

JT: Man, I've always dug you, way before Adams did! Me and Jay, we....we....aw man, I'm not gonna cry, I'm not gonna cry....

[GP's smile suddenly turns to a frown, then another smile appears, with fangs this time. He begins to float toward Tweedy, with Adams crouching behind GP, moving in for the kill]

GP: Hey man, what about the cosmic country sound that I started? Why did you turn your back on me?

JT: I....I....what?

JG: Oh, this looks bad for Tweedy.

[GP looks at Jay Bennett, and snarls; JB yelps and disappears in a flash of fire. The keyboards blow up, and Tweedy stands exposed]

GP [in a voice like Satan]: I was your god, and thou hast displeased me, man!

JD & ND: time to get out of here!

[GP fully materializes, and walks over to Tweedy, smiling, and in his normal voice:]

GP: Mr. Tweedy, I sure did like your music on them first couple of Uncle Tupelo albums, but then you lost me.

[Tweedy shakes, looks confused; Adams skitters around behind Gram, with a mouth full of cookies]

GP: Since when did ELO become cool, man?

JT: No, not you too! Look, Gram, I grew as an artist, I followed my....

GP: ....and the way you butchered "100 Years From Now" on my tribute, well, now, that was just rude. It was an insult. The last straw, man. I put up with Summerteeth, but.....

JT: I still play your records, man! I'll strip down again, I'll record analog, I'll do anything.....

GP: Aw shucks, I'm just kidding ya! I'm a good ol boy from Wayyyycross, GA! I like to have my fun! Here, to make it up, have a hit of this joint. Keef made it back in 1970. I've been keeping for a special occasion, and since Hillman ain't dead yet, well, let's me and you partake.....

JT: Really? Cool! Thanks, man! Boy, if Farrar could see this...!

GP: Are you sure you want to sit down? That looks like it might hurt.

JG: Hmmm. I think Tweedy is gonna regret that puff of loco weed!

ND: Yes, I think this might be a trick! Not just anyone can smoke a Keith Richards joint, circa 1970! This is gonna have some kind of kick!

[Tweedy takes another puff....his expression changes from mellow oneness to horror, steam blows out his ears, his teeth fly out of his head, his tongue swells and bursts, his ass pops off and finally his head explodes; tiny pieces of flannel and burned whiskers float down]

JG: And that's that! Mills Lane is coming out to call Ryan Adams the winner!

ND: And look how smug Adams is! Is...he...yes, he's cleaning out his burst ears with flakes of Tweedy skin! Oh, the final indignity!

JG: But look there! The Parsons monster Adams created is out of control! He's got a hold of Adams! Oh, the horror! I can't not watch this!

GP: Hey buddy, I thought I told you 'bout staying away from Miss Emmylou! [GP lifts Adams up by the scruff of the neck with one hand, holds him out as Adams flails around, crying.....]

RA: Caitlin, Phil, the drummer dude....I'm so sorry, I loved Whiskeytown, I never should've gone solo, oh sweet Carolina.....

[GP swings back a skinny long nudie suited clad leg and drives it up Adams' ass and out his mouth, and then shakes the remains off into the screaming audience, which proceeds to devour the leftover Adams parts like so many half written half baked songs. There's nothing left.]

JG: Well, there you have it! Mills Lane is awarding the match to Gram Parsons, the man who started it all, or didn't, depending on who you talk to! Some say the Monkees were the first, others Carl Perkins or Bill Monroe and Hank Williams....

ND: What? The first what? What's wrong with you?

JG: Again, I'm just reading the script. I do not know.

ND: Whatever. And that's it for us!

JG: Tune in next week when Celebrity Death Match welcomes back Kotter and Ralph Malph! Happy days are here again next time on...

Celebrity Death Match!!!!!!!!!

God is a word, and the argument ends there

2005-06-09T06:39:00.000-07:00

I have my problems with Pitchfork, like most music fans, but this review of the new Smog album is sufficiently spot-on that I don't feel the need to review it myself.

I've been going through a period of being sick of all my music, so I've been buying a lot of records lately. So far the highlights, apart from the Smog album, have been once again courtesy of Table of the Elements. The Rhys Chatham Compendium is a sampler from Chatham's 3-CD box set, An Angel Moves Too Fast To See, and consists of a bunch of short clips of longer pieces, which are very good, and one full-length piece, the 20-minute Die Donnergotter, which is jaw-droppingly tremendous. This is probably the most accessible "experimental" music I've heard - it manages to combine minimalist techniques with rock fury, to great effect. Highly recommended.

My other Table of the Elements find is Arnold Dreyblatt's "The Sound of One String." Like Chatham, Dreyblatt is a minimalist who studied with the greats - La Monte Young and Tony Conrad - but likewise abandoned the endless drone in favor of his own experiments. Dreyblatt's music explores the science of harmonics and overtones using instruments of his own invention along with miniature piano and (yes!) hurdy-gurdy. You can hear many samples of his music here.

I also recently purchased Glenn Branca's "Lesson No. 1," which is rather similar in approach to Chatham although (to my ear) a bit less interesting. Another find was Yona-Kit's self-titled album. Yona-Kit consists of Jim O'Rourke, Darin Gray, Thymme Jones, and Japanese noisemonger K.K. Null who contributes somewhat comical gruff vocals. It's pretty good, in an aggressive math-rocky kind of way, but I like Brise-Glace (which consists of the same line-up minus Null) a lot better.

Hmm, don't you listen to any NORMAL music? Why yes, I also got the latest Iron & Wine EP, "Woman King," which is just as wonderful as all of Iron & Wine's other releases. Sam Beam's lyrics and voice are as beautiful as ever, and his production values keep going up, but never to the detriment of the music. It's nice to see such consistency in this age of entropy.

Professor Eno's revenge

2005-06-07T22:37:00.000-07:00

He may or may not be the "brainiest" guy in rock, but he's certainly one of the most articulate. Check out this interview with Brian Eno from today's Guardian.

Dunno if that June 13 release date applies to the US as well as the UK, but let's hope so.

I am Drag City's bitch, part II

2005-06-02T23:27:00.000-07:00

Chicago itinerant poet Thax Douglas claims that Drag City represents all that is bad about the Chicago music scene. Well, I don't live in Chicago, and I love Smog, Gastr del Sol, Will Oldham, Loose Fur, and many other Drag City icons, so I say, with all due respect, that Thax can shove it.

Meanwhile, in other Chicago-based feuds, Jim O'Rourke and David Grubbs may hate each other, but I think they're both equally awesome. (Though Jim is admittedly cuter.) Here's the latest poop on David's doings from those Drag City dastards:

It’s been about a year since A Guess at the Riddle, David Grubbs’ last and best album, hit the racks. He toured Europe and America and has since remained busy…but it’s been awhile since we’ve described how. Let’s fix that now.

First off, David became a father this last year. Congrats to David and his partner in parenting (and life), Cathy — best of luck to both of you in the child-rearing business. Keep the kid away from the harmonium — it’s the fastest-growing site of domestic mishaps in America today, we’re told. Secondly, David is breaking (back) into the cinema this year as well, with a bit of soundtrack work. Les Invisibles, the feature film by Thierry Jousse, which features the acting of Blue Chopsticks artist Noel Akchote and original music by Grubbs with Matmos, was accepted for the 2005 Cannes Film Festival for their La Semaine de la Critique series.The film debuted on May 12th — look for it at your local film center sometime later this year.

David tends to play shows here and there with various groupings of people, but in June, he’ll will be on tour as David Grubbs (with Nikos Veliotis) in Europe for a week or two. For the Grubbs fans over there who haven’t seen the show, come out please.

Finally there’s David Grubbs the label-hat-wearer — and the hat he wears says Blue Chopsticks all the way! The next release on Blue Chopsticks will be Susan Howe and David Grubbs’s Thiefth (BC15), out this fall. Meantime, Susan Howe and David Grubbs will perform in Cork, Ireland at the Cork International Poetry Festival on July 9. Before that (but after Europe), David will be appearing as a member of The Wingdale Community Singers in New York and Boston.

For more info on all things Blue Chopsticks (and a few things David Grubbs), here’s where to go to get the straight(er) story: www.bluechopsticks.org

Congrats to Dave on the genetic success and please play in Portland soon!

The Wilco Area Career Center

2005-05-31T23:56:00.000-07:00

"Here at Wilco Area Career Center we offer training in students’ choice of vocational fields. Our classes are small and focused. Each student receives a great deal of attention from the teachers. It is in this enjoinment that they are guided to excel at their choice profession. Our staff at Wilco is highly trained and is experienced in the trade they are teaching. They not only provide the students with the knowledge of the trade, but also hands on experience."

Curriculum:

Guitar-Smashing - Jeff Tweedy
Bring your own guitar. WACC is not responsible for injuries or audience mockery incurred during class.

Care and Feeding of Your Dimestore Troll - Nels Cline
Tips for taking care of this popular household pet, including how to create excruciating feedback with your troll.

Band Survival - John Stirratt
Students will learn how to remain in a band when all other original members have left or been kicked out. Features guest lecture by XTC's Colin Moulding.

Rock Star Hair Care - Pat Sansone
You don't need to be a metrosexual to have great hair! The cost of styling products is included in the lab fee.

Choosing the Right Hubcap for You - Glenn Kotche
Each class will consist of a field trip to a nearby used car dealership or city dump. Please wear sturdy shoes and bring a mallet to every class.

Advanced Solitaire - Mikael Jorgensen
How to play solitaire and win while being observed by thousands of fans.

a new toy...

2005-05-30T17:53:00.000-07:00

So I've just signed up for Audioscrobbler - it uses a plug-in to keep track of everything you listen to on your iTunes (or whatever). Nerdy, but interesting. You can click on the name of a particular artist or song and find out how many other people have listened to it and what else they listen to. I found out that people who listen to Jim O'Rourke also listen to a Japanese band called Sangatsu. Who? I went to their website (expecting J-Pop, which I guess is kind of racist) and found sound samples of a pleasant post-rock-y band who sound a bit like the Sea and Cake.

So an hour after starting an Audioscrobbler account, I've already discovered a cool new band. Neat!

And in case you're dying to know what I've been listening to, here's my Audioscrobbler statistics page.

there was a time, that time is gone

2005-05-26T10:18:00.000-07:00

I have a love-hate affair with a certain genre. Alt-country, insurgent country, roots rock, whatever you want to call it - the type of music pioneered by bands like Uncle Tupelo and the Jayhawks in the late 80's and early 90's, propagated by labels like Chicago's Bloodshot Records. Old-school country mixed with rock and punk attitude. Alt-country's godfather was Johnny Cash, with his "fuck Nashville" attitude; its earliest progenitor was the California country-rock of Gram Parsons. These days, alt-country is celebrated in the pages of No Depression magazine, named after Uncle Tupelo's first album.

My entry into the world of alt-country was a bit roundabout. I'd gotten into Wilco in late 2002 after buying their masterpiece, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, and was working my way backwards in their career - the equally fantastic Summerteeth, the great but uneven Being There - but stopped before buying their first album, AM, because I thought it would be "too country." A friend of my sister's urged me to check out Uncle Tupelo, Jeff Tweedy's previous band. Reluctantly, I bought Anodyne (UT's last record) for $10 at Amoeba Records, heard the first track, Slate, and fell deeply in love with Jay Farrar's voice - a resonant, nasally baritone which creaked with infinite sadness at the edges.

I fell for alt-country hard. I bought records by the Jayhawks, Neko Case, Jay Farrar's post-Tupelo band Son Volt, Ryan Adams' brilliant first solo album Heartbreaker. I listened faithfully to a 2-disc alt-country sampler I'd found at a used record store, its tracklist chosen by the editors of No Depression. I tried to write my own alt-country songs. And I still listened to Wilco religiously, both their alt-country and non-alt-country albums. (I went through a phase of listening to Summerteeth nearly every day for two weeks.) Then I made a big mistake. I joined Postcard.

This mailing list, ostensibly dedicated to Uncle Tupelo and related artists, turned out to be a haven for a type of music "fan" I had never encountered before. These were people who ONLY listened to alt-country. Nothing else. Wilco's post-alt-country albums were "shit." Jeff Tweedy was a pretentious sell-out. When Loose Fur, Jeff's collaboration with Jim O'Rourke, was released in early 2003, I fell in love with Jim as well - but the Postcarders weren't having it. "Loose Stools," one person called it. "Someone get Tweedy away from O'Rourke before it's too late." Jay Farrar, on the other hand, was a hero because he stuck to the alt-country formula and never, ever changed. Nice and safe.

I began to look at alt-country askance at that point. It certainly was safe. And predictable. And formulaic. That was why these so-called "fans" liked it - it never challenged them in any way. Put on an alt-country album and you know exactly what you're going to hear. The best alt-country artists (like UT or the Jayhawks) write songs that transcend the formula, but it seemed like alt-country fans loved alt-country BECAUSE of the formula. Anything that contained the requisite elements was OK with them.

I also began to resent the moral superiority claimed for alt-country. Alt-country was "genuine and unpretentious." "Real music for real people." "Authentic." This struck me as horseshit of the finest quality. Are, say, Sonic Youth somehow less "real" because they don't have pedal steel guitars and sing about working in a factory? The idea that a rootsy sound + lyrics about the common man = "authenticity" is completely ridiculous. As I've said before, Jay Farrar never worked in a factory. Alt-country is no more or less "authentic" than any other type of music.

And then there's latter-day alt-country. I'm not even going to bother having links to bands like Lucero, Two Cow Garage (worst name ever), and the Drive-By Truckers - they follow the formula so faithfully that there's no point in listening to them. The first time I heard a Drive-By Truckers song, I thought it was a parody - it was self-consciously earnest to the point of being comical. The guy from Lucero, probably in an attempt to sound "real," sings like he's trying to shit out the stick up his ass. These are bands who've bought into the "alt-country = authenticity" fallacy to such a degree that they just sound absurd. They're hard-workin', hard-drinkin', keepin' it real, telling it like it... zzzzzzzzz.....

Not to say that there isn't any good alt-country anymore. Neko Case, the Old 97's, and many other bands don't seem to have any notion about being "authentic." They're just having a good time and writing good songs. And that, my friends, is what it's all about. As long as there are people who put the song before the formula, I will still love alt-country.

Sam Prekop!

2005-05-24T19:13:00.000-07:00

I adore Sam Prekop... whether as the lead yowler of Shrimp Boat or the sultry singer of the Sea and Cake, or on his two solo records... he's just awesome. I've been looking forward to this show for about two months now, and I wasn't disappointed.

The opening band was Pit Er Pat, who are from Chicago and consisted of a bassist, drummer, and singer/keyboardist, and played rather soulless abstract arty rock. The drummer was excellent, pounding out complex rhythms on a tiny jazz kit, but I just couldn't really get into them. The singer had absolutely no charisma and looked like she'd rather be at home hunched over her laptop. For some reason, they had tons of merch (about six different T-shirt designs), but Sam Prekop hardly had any.

So after sitting out their set, I made my way to the front, making sure that the very short guy with the very big afro next to me could see. "Short people have to watch out for each other," I said, and he agreed. Soon Sam Prekop made his appearance, along with his bandmates, Jewfro'd bassist Josh Abrams, drummer Chad Taylor, and fellow Sea and Caker Archer Prewitt on guitar. I thought it was rather generous of Archer to be backing up Sam when he has a solo album of his own to promote.

Sam is a completely undistinguished-looking person - blond, balding, and rather grumpy-faced, dressed in baggy clothes with his backstage pass stuck to the leg of his jeans - and yet this normal guy is the source of the sexiest voice in rock. As usual when I've listened to someone's records a lot before seeing them live, it was weird matching up the voice to the face. His stage presence was subdued, and he rarely made eye contact while performing because he was reading off a book of lyrics laid out at his feet. But he made a few affable between-song comments. "I saw your mountain today [Mt. Hood]... I've been here a bunch of times, but I never realized you had a fucking mountain here. Archer and I are going to climb that mountain in an hour and make it to Seattle by 3 tomorrow."

They mostly performed songs off Sam's new solo record, "Who's Your New Professor," with a few songs off his superior first solo album which were greeted with cheers from the crowd. The songs were a bit lacking without the keyboards, strings and horns of the album versions, but they made do quite nicely. Chad Taylor is a fucking amazing drummer. (What is it about great drummers and Chicago?) Often Sam and Archer would back away from him and just let him jam out. At one point he was just playing with his hands (like bongoes). For one song he made ample use of a cowbell, prompting inevitable "More cowbell!" shouts from the crowd. Josh Abrams is a pretty bad-ass bass-player as well. Archer added tasteful little guitar solos and backing vocals. For the danceable "C + F", off the new album, Sam, somewhat shame-faced, asked everyone to clap along, and everyone did. He was pleased.

I wanted them to play "Practice Twice," but that's one of those songs that sounds rude when you shout out for it (a la "Can't Stand It" or "Someone Else's Song"), so I kept my mouth shut. They did play "On Such Favors," which made me happy, and ended the show with a long jamming version of the instrumental "A Cloud to the Back." A satisfying ending to an excellent show.

That is all.

today...

2005-05-18T23:04:00.000-07:00

... is the 25th anniversary of Ian Curtis's death.

Despite their unfortunate role as the precursors of the Goth movement, I have loved Joy Division ever since I was a depressed college senior hiding under the covers listening to "Substance" over and over again. The only other dead musician I was ever obsessed with was Nick Drake. I always wished I could go back in time and save him somehow, make him better, relieve his pain. I never felt that way about Ian Curtis. His suicide was too intrinsic to my appreciation of his music. It was all part of the package. Except in his final recordings, Nick Drake never articulated his impending doom in the same way.

Depressed people gravitate towards artists like Curtis, or Nick Drake, or Kurt Cobain, or (following his death) Elliott Smith. Their music and choice of death reflect our pain back to us. There is a theory that musicians' deaths inspire "copycat" suicides, and I'm fairly sure a few of these occurred after Kurt Cobain died, because he was such a public figure. But I wonder also if these artists prevent people from killing themselves. I don't have to kill myself, because Ian Curtis did it already, and I can hear it in his music, allowing me to experience it vicariously. And also, it's comforting to know, when you're in a dark place, that someone else has been there too.

It's just a thought. I've gotten through the worst of my depression, so I feel like I don't really need to listen to dead souls anymore. (Nick Drake has stuck with me, but the rest of that crowd has passed me by.) But I can't fault people who still choose to go there.

Anyway, RIP, Ian.

Andrew WK's message to the world

2005-05-13T21:23:00.000-07:00

'TIS TIME AGAIN FOR ME TO UPDATE!

ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW IS THAT THERE WILL BE ANOTHER ALBUM OF GUT-WRENCHING, BRAIN IMPLODING, CAR WRECKING HARD ROCK!

UNTIL THEN...WE NEED TO STAND BY EACH OTHER DESPITE OUR OPINION OF EACH OTHER. WE ARE ALL HUMAN. WE NEED TO HUG EACH OTHER MORE OFTEN!

DEATH IS NIGH!

ANDREW

the world's forgotten boy (part 1 in a series)

2005-05-10T21:12:00.000-07:00

So this is going to be an ongoing feature about underrated/little-known artists who I like but don't seem to get talked about very much. (I guess my Bastro post was really the first one in this series, but whatever.)

Today's forgotten boy is Peter Blegvad. "Peter WHO?" you might ask. Good question! Peter Blegvad ("rhymes with egg-bad") is a singer-songwriter, cartoonist, poet, and all-around incredibly talented guy. Born in Connecticut but raised in Britain, his career began in the early 70's with the band Slapp Happy, featuring German chanteuse Dagmar Krause and future Pink Floyd collaborator Anthony Moore. He went on to collaborate with a huge array of artists including Faust, John Zorn, XTC's Andy Partridge, Syd Straw, John Paul Jones, and Anton Fier's super-group the Golden Palominos (which also featured Michael Stipe and Matthew Sweet). In the 1990's, he was responsible for the brilliant comic strip Leviathan, which ran in the British paper the Independent and earned him the admiration of Robyn Hitchcock and Simpsons creator Matt Groening. His songs have been covered by Fairport Convention, Loudon Wainwright III, Barbara Manning, the Pale Saints, and many others.

Although he has made many types of music over the past 30 years, at heart Blegvad is a singer-songwriter in the vein of Andy Partridge, Robyn Hitchcock, or Colin Meloy - idiosyncratic, quirky and cerebral, fond of 5-dollar words and tricky song structures (some of his lyrics take the form of palindromes or acrostics), but always with real emotion and heart lurking behind the linguistic fireworks. His work with Slapp Happy has a decadent Weimar-era cabaret flavor to it, while his 80's and 90's solo records are more straight singer-songwriter fare, but that heartfelt intellectualism is a constant.

I first encountered Blegvad's unique songwriting on a cassette tape (remember those?) of XTC demos which included a radio performance of "King Strut," a song co-written with Andy Partridge. I was immediately struck, not only by the song itself, but by his voice - a dry, nasally, New York sort of voice, like a cross between Lou Reed and a more tuneful Bob Dylan. It was love at first sight. Ever since then, I've struggled to amass as many Blegvad records as I can. And I've been trying to spread the word.

So now, let's use the magic of YouSendIt to sample some of Blegvad's tasty wares.

Northern Lights - from his 1990 album, "King Strut and Other Stories"

Galveston - from 2004's "Orpheus, the Lowdown" (collaboration with Andy Partridge)

Not Weak Enough - from the 1989 album "Downtime" (inspired by a conversation Blegvad had with Michael Stipe)

I Don't Believe You've Met My Baby - a Louvin Brothers cover, a duet with Blegvad's brother Kristoffer, also from "Downtime"

Bee Dream- from "Just Woke Up." The original lyrics appeared on John Zorn's album "Locus Solus."

Good stuff, eh?

your song of the day

2005-05-05T16:33:00.000-07:00

YouSendIt has proved to be a boon for those of us who can't host stuff easily on websites. (I used to be able to, but my FTP software isn't working at the moment.) At any rate, I'm going to start using YouSendIt more often to post MP3s and other goodies.

So the song of the day today is by Loose Fur, the super-duper-group consisting of Jim O'Rourke and Wilco's Jeff Tweedy and Glenn Kotche. It's called Answers, it's from a 2002 live show, and although currently unreleased, Dame Rumor has it that it's going to appear on Loose Fur's second album, due out this fall. Enjoy.

the end of the world is at hand

2005-05-03T23:13:00.000-07:00

Five disappointing years after his brilliant solo debut, Heartbreaker, Ryan Adams has finally made a halfway decent album. What took you so long, boy? I guess he was too busy puking on stage, porking Parker Posey, and insulting Jeff Tweedy.

Listen to Cold Roses at Ryan-Adams.com.

money burning a hole in your pocket?

2005-05-03T19:34:00.000-07:00

Mercatorp is back! My favorite eBay seller has returned with a splendid array of Table of the Elements releases. Check out what he's selling here - but hands off the John Fahey live disc and the Rhys Chatham sampler. Those puppies are mine.

Also, if you're dying to buy an oud, a sarangi, a shruti box, or a doumbek, check out Instruments of the World. They also have medieval instruments like rebecs and psalteries (though no hurdy-gurdies, alas). The whole "sitar in pop song" thing is a bit played out now, but how often do you hear an esraj in rock today? If you're a musician, I say go for it. (I can barely play my guitar, so I'm going to pass on this one for now.)

brief notes

2005-05-01T23:15:00.000-07:00

You can now listen a few more tracks from the new Spoon album, "Gimme Fiction" (due to be released May 10), on Merge Records' website. It sounds pretty damn good, I must say.

I found a website called Feet Me - photos of musicians' feet. Um, OK. But they're actually pretty cool photos. A few of my favorites:

Kim Gordon:

Faust:

Glenn Branca:

Also, speaking of photos, take a look around Stefano Giovannini's website. Stefano is a photographer who takes wonderful pictures of his musician friends (Sonic Youth, Chan Marshall, and others), as well as various locales in New York City. This photo of Jim O'Rourke makes me weak at the knees. Mm-hmm.

in defense of noise

2005-04-26T22:04:00.000-07:00

As you may have noticed, I tend to be more vocal and defensive about experimental music than I am about other music I listen to. However, I would say only about 25% of my favorite musicians are experimental or "avant-garde" - i.e., they make music which is not purely melodic or song-based. A few other of my favorite artists fall into the category of "avant-rock" - e.g., some of Jim O'Rourke's projects like Gastr del Sol and Brise-Glace, which use rock structures but also incorporate experimental techniques. But overall, I do tend more towards rock/pop music. It's what I grew up with, and frankly it's a lot easier to listen to than half-hour drones or tape collages, just because I'm more used to it. Even my favorite experimental artists can be difficult and grueling to listen to, and I'm not always in the mood for a bumpy ride.

So why am I so vocal about this type of music? Because, as hard on the ears and brain as it can be, the best experimental music is exciting, beautiful, mystical, mysterious, intense, unpredictable, cathartic, and utterly free from cliche - as much so as the best rock/pop music, and sometimes even more so. These sounds can produce states of mind that no rock band could ever elicit, sending you right into the stratosphere or down into the depths of the earth. It's like drugs for your ears. There's nothing else like it.

Many people dismiss experimental music as "pretentious," "wanking," "not music," and so forth. The first charge is based around the notion that rock music is somehow more "real" or "honest" than music with loftier and more "artistic" goals. In fact, most rock bands have some sort of shtick (note to Uncle Tupelo fans: Jay Farrar never worked in a coal mine). All artists are liars in one way or another. "Wanking" presumably refers to making long-winded music which is designed more to please the artist than the audience, but don't most artists with any integrity write music primarily to please themselves? Long-windedness is in the eye of the beholder - if you don't like the music, any length is going to seem long-winded.

Finally, the idea that "if it doesn't have a melody, it's not music" is not only preposterous, but also totally Eurocentric and, dare I say, has overtones of racism. Do people really think that if music doesn't follow the Western rules of musical composition, it can't be considered music? Musical forms all over the world do not employ melody. (Listen to those gamelan tracks I posted a while back - can you sing along with them?) OneLook.com gives one definition of music as "an artistic form of auditory communication incorporating instrumental or vocal tones in a structured and continuous manner." This covers everything from John Cage to Madonna, and makes perfect sense to me.

Now, I'm not saying that music snobbery can't run both ways. I've seen experimental music fans turn up their nose at rock/pop music, saying it's simple-minded and shallow. (Read any issue of The Wire for reiteration of this attitude.) But what I'm trying to advocate here is an embrace of both kinds of music. Both experimental music and rock/pop music can be immense sources of pleasure. All you have to do is set aside your preconceptions about music and what it "should" sound like, and you will be introduced to a world of new and exciting sounds.

It's true that to get into experimental music, you have to learn how to listen to it. Rock/pop music is ingrained into our culture, and we learn its rules at a very young age. But with experimental music, you really do need to train your ears and not expect to hear the structures you're used to hearing. I'm still learning how to listen to more extreme artists like atonal improv guitarist Derek Bailey - in fact, I suspect I may never "get" him - but if I do eventually figure him out, that's one more source of pleasure in my life. Just remember... the more music you appreciate, the more fun you have.

Now, get out there and listen to something you've never heard before!

yay SMOG!

2005-04-22T14:17:00.000-07:00

There's a new Smog track (from his/their forthcoming album) available from our pals at Drag City. I never know whether I should refer to Smog as "he" or "they" - anyway, check out I Feel Like The Mother of the World. I think it's good, but on the other hand, I could listen to Bill sing about poop, so listen and decide for yourself.

Drag City sez:

He left a good job in the city, working for the man (us) every night and day – but he never lost a minute of sleeping, worrying about the way things might have been. They call him Smog – and he’s breaking the waves with a rose between his teeth. That rose is called A River Ain’t Too Much to Love....

A River Ain’t Too Much to Love proves that still waters still run deep. Smog’s newest songs are like a cycle, with plenty of glints and highlights as it revolves. Smog will be touring all over Europe upon the May 31st release of the record, but before we let him go, he’ll be playing instore appearances at Amoeba Records in both LA and San Francisco as well as Waterloo Records in Austin. There will be some radio shows and maybe even paying gigs in this whirlwind promo tour, all happening in the last week of May. We’ll have mo’ better information for you on the next newsletter – or sooner, even! But don’t forget, you heard it here first – you’re gonna love A River Ain’t Too Much to Love.

Australian attempts to kill Michael Stipe with spider; news at 11

2005-04-21T11:00:00.000-07:00

REM used to be one of my favorite bands when I was in high school. Like many other people, I have drifted away from them in recent years, but this is still a pretty awesome interview: Michael Stipe on Australian TV.

Michael remembers staying up all night listening to Patti Smith - I remember dancing around my bedroom to "Life and How to Live It." Rock on, my skinny eccentric brother.

it's the song I hate

2005-04-20T12:05:00.000-07:00

I try not to judge bands by their genre. But sometimes entire genres rub me the wrong way and it takes a very exceptional band to transcend the style they've chosen to work in. Here are four genres you will probably never see me write about in this blog (barring a massive shift in my musical taste, which has been known to happen):

Power-pop
Power is good, pop is good, so why is power-pop so aggressively bland? It's like having custard forced down your throat with a stick.
Exception: Matthew Sweet

Southern rock
I'm not Southern, a redneck, and/or male, so lyrics about workin' and drinkin' and endless wanna-be Neil Young guitar solos don't appeal to me. Go figure.
Exception: None that I know of

Mid-90's American indie-rock
The tiresome earnestness of grunge produced an even more tiresome backlash in the form of smug "ironic" "slackers" making incredibly dull music.
Exception: Guided By Voices

Jam bands
You'd think anyone with the patience to jam for 20 minutes would come up with something besides tired funk/rock/lite-jazz cliches, but apparently not...
Exception: The Grateful Dead in country-blues mode

Now, if any of you can come up with more exceptions, I'd love to hear them. I'm always willing to give genres another chance. So fire away, my hearties.

Spooooon!

2005-04-19T22:18:00.000-07:00

I'm a little slow on the draw on this one, I think... but Merge Records is now offering a track from the forthcoming Spoon record for your downloading pleasure. Click here to hear "I Turn My Camera On," a slice of typically taut, sexy rock from those loveable Austinites.

Merge Records has always been a bit of a conundrum for me. It was founded by two members of Superchunk, one of the more loathesomely bland indie bands of the mid-90's (a dark time for American independent music). Yet in 1998, Merge released the album that renewed my faith in indie-rock, Neutral Milk Hotel's "In the Aeroplane Over the Sea." Go figure.

the hurdy-gurdy, continued

2005-04-18T23:15:00.000-07:00

Re. my previous entry, I found two extremely disparate examples of hurdy-gurdy usage.

First, listen to this traditional-style scottische, which I believe is a kind of dance, accompanied by guitar. Pretty cool, eh?

Now, listen to a brief sample of Keiji Haino's drone for hurdy-gurdy (requires Windows Media Player, yo). Whoa!

Compare and contrast. This will be on the final exam.

rock n' roll haiku!

2005-04-16T10:07:00.000-07:00

Haiku for Jay Farrar:

Jay Farrar, you're a
taciturn motherfucker,
but I still love you.

Haiku for the Olivia Tremor Control:

Bill Doss and Will Hart
Oh, why did you have to fight?
Please make more records!

Haiku for Iron & Wine:

Sam, your gentle voice
is like cool water flowing -
I like your beard too!

Haiku for Jim O'Rourke:

Lots of music in
that head of yours - is it true
that you like Foghat?

And the famed "Wilco sequence":

Jeff Tweedy, your suits
are suave - but your Hummingbird
dance scared my friend Miles.

Glenn Kotche, you're hot
You are really, really hot
And a good drummer.

Mike is a member
of Wilco. He's not playing
solitaire, dammit!

Pat, I know little
about you - you've got rock-star
hair and nice eyebrows.

John Stirratt, you sure
play some mean maracas, wow!
and you're a nice guy.

Nels, you're essential.
You play guitar with a damn whisk
for crying out loud.

old-tyme waves

2005-04-14T21:19:00.000-07:00

One of my friends says she wants to "spearhead the skiffle revival." I think this is an excellent plan. I really dig "old-time" music, not for any sort of false nostalgia for a pre-commercial age, but because a lot of it sounds so alien. It reflects a time which has vanished and embodies a whole mindset which is completely "other" from today's culture. It's like hearing echoes of a party that ended years ago but still linger in the walls of an old building. Modern-day interpretations of old-time music, as wonderful as the "O Brother, Where Art Thou" soundtrack is, don't quite capture that feeling. It lacks the scratchy ambience of a 78 and a whole style of singing and playing which has been lost. I think the only latter-day recording of "old" music that I've heard that really captures that alien feeling is John Fahey's The Transfiguration of Blind Joe Death. John Fahey was a bit of an alien himself, so no wonder.

So if the skiffle revival were to occur, and I certainly hope it does, I wonder how that alienness could be kept intact. It's probably not possible, but even without the alien quality, it's still a great form of music and I fully endorse any effort to bring skiffle/jugband music back into the mainstream. It's about time we started hearing washboards on the radio. I also think there should be a revival of medieval music, or at least medieval instruments. That Gregorian chant fad a few years ago wasn't enough (and the whole notion of combining chant with weak hiphop beats pretty much defeats the whole purpose, anyway). I just don't think there's enough hurdy-gurdies around these days. Hurdy-gurdies seem to be pretty popular with the avant-garde/drone set, but I'd like to hear hurdy-gurdies in rock music too. They're just so cool. You can read more about them here. I'd love to buy one, but they're expensive.

I was going to dig up some MP3's for y'all, but I'm feeling lazy, so maybe later. To tide you over, here is a photo of avant-garde guitarist Keiji Haino (who may possibly be the coolest-looking man alive) with his hurdy-gurdy:

"please let me call you master"

2005-04-14T12:42:00.000-07:00

Thanks to intrepid folks on the SY board, we have a translation for the manga that I posted a few days ago.

very top: Thurston is tall

top right with Thurston (read left to right): 1) Amongst many short foreign musicians... 2) I'm constantly reminded by Japanese people that "foreigners are huge."
(Someone else translated this as: There are a lot of small musicians overseas, but the common opinion any Japanese will give is that "foreigners are huge.")

top left: 1) My friend, "Mr. A" (false identity), tried to get in by claiming to be an old friend of the band.

2) She said there was no way that I was an old friend, but I was able to get signatures.

middle with Jim: The master artist Jim drew a beautiful picture on my sign. [Jim says "ooo - ho ho ho"]

bottom right with Kim: Soon the concert had begun.
text to the left of Kim's head: Ooooh she is so cool!

bottom left (from left to right): 1) I looked just like this... 2) Please let me call you "master." [talking about Jim]... 3) He's timid, the genius, Jim O'Rourke.

on gender and fandom

2005-04-13T16:32:00.000-07:00

Regardless of whether their differences are the result of nature or nuture, it's been my observation that men and women have a tendency to approach music fandom in different ways. Men in our society are encouraged to suppress their emotions, and male fans tend to express their love of music in an unemotional way. This is why most discographers and music collectors are male - it's cerebral activity involving cataloguing and knowledge of music trivia. (This is not to say that men don't feel any emotion about music, but that they're not encouraged to express it openly.) Women, on the other hand are free to express emotion and are encouraged and expected to do so. The ultimate expression of this is in teenybopper magazines, where sexual desire and adoration run rampant. Even older female fans will willingly discuss their rock star lust and confess to crying at shows and other emotional displays.

There is a general stereotype that runs alongside these tendencies, that female fans are silly and trivial, whereas male fans are "serious" and discerning. Remember High Fidelity? (The novel, that is - I can't remember if this happens in the film.) At one point, the protagonist argues with his girlfriend about her "bad" (i.e., conventional, top-40) musical taste, and the protagonist remarks that this is "the oldest argument between men and women." In other words - men care about music, women don't, even if they listen to music regularly. On numerous forums (most recently, a thread on the Wilco board), I've seen male fans state, directly or indirectly, that a band starts to go downhill when their fanbase starts to include women, and that female fans are inferior to male fans. The assumption by these fans is that women are only there because the band members are "cute," not because the music means anything to them. According to these fans, a growing female fanbase is the first step towards becoming a trivial, lightweight boy-band.

I responded to this particular male fan by saying that all the female fans I know care as deeply about music as any male fan. I resent the fact that my love of music is considered trivial by some people because it's not expressed in the same way as a man's. I'm not interested in collecting records or setlists; I think Glenn Kotche and Bill Callahan and Jim O'Rourke are attractive men and I'm not afraid to say so; I engage with music on a deeply emotional level and am willing to admit it (yes, I have cried at shows). But in no way would I consider my fandom to be inferior to any male fan in either quality or quantity. Believe it or not, I love many bands who don't contain a single good-looking member. I love music. The looks of the band members are secondary. But if a musician happens to be hot, I'm not going to pretend I don't notice. I've even been called a "groupie" for expressing my attraction to male musicians. All too many men (musicians included, unfortunately) regard all female fans as groupies. And yet, when men express their attraction to Kim Gordon or Neko Case or whoever, nobody calls them groupies or tells them to go back to reading Tiger Beat. It's just sad. And it pisses me off.

In conclusion, Glenn Kotche is hot.

some sights and sounds

2005-04-11T23:23:00.000-07:00

The Wire, the pretentious but comprehensive British experimental music magazine, has some very cool stuff on their website.

Glenn Jones of the post-rock band Cul de Sac performs some "American primitive guitar" in the style of his mentor, John Fahey. Very pretty.

Krautrockers Neu! show where Jeff Tweedy and Stereolab got their tricks from.

I've never been able to get much into hip-hop, but this Anticon track is pretty cool, in a schizophrenic kind of way.

Check out the video page which includes footage of Text of Light, featuring Lee Ranaldo and Wilco's Glenn Kotche.

Listen to saxophone terrorists Borbetomagus and my noise-mongering Ann Arbor homies Wolf Eyes, if you dare...

And there's a ton of other cool stuff on the site too. Unfortunately, the Tony Conrad link is dead, but you can see him perform in this video from the Ecstatic Peace website, which also features Kim Gordon and Thurston Moore. Conrad is the guy in the purple shirt playing the violin, the third (and fourth) performer in the video, and is further proof that experimental music is best experienced live. It's fascinating to watch him play: although the music has no discernible rhythm, clearly he is hearing some kind of rhythm in his head. I hope I get to see him play someday.

could you please move? I can't see.

2005-04-11T18:09:00.000-07:00

Someone pointed out to me that, contrary to my comment about live shows not being worth the time and energy, experimental music is often best experienced live. I agree with this completely. For instance, I had the pleasure of seeing John Zorn's Cobra performed by a group of Portland musicians (including the Decemberists' Chris Funk and Quasi's Sam Coomes), as well as by Zorn himself with a group of players that included Marc Ribot. It was really fun to watch. The Portland ensemble was especially entertaining since they didn't know the rules very well and had long cheat sheets taped to their instruments, and were struggling to keep up with the game-master's flash cards. I've also heard recordings of Cobra games, and it's just not the same when the visual element is missing, even when the musicianship is top-notch.

What I was complaining about was not experimental shows, which usually take place in small venues and are attended by people who are really into the music. I actually don't have a problem with any kind of small club shows. Rather, I was specifically thinking of shows at larger venues where the visibility is poor (for short people like me) and where there are large hordes of drunk people - where you can't sit down or take a pee break without the risk of losing your spot at the front, where people are there to drink and talk and not to see the band, where too many people are packed into a space that doesn't fit all of them, where people don't respect other people's personal space, and so forth. I think I'm getting old, because my tolerance for this sort of thing has reached its nadir. Maybe I'll get over it. Hopefully I will, since I just got tickets for the Pixies and Sam Prekop, who are both playing in Portland next month. We shall see.

gracias

2005-04-10T12:10:00.000-07:00

I'd like to thank the Sonic Youth fan site Saucer-Like for linking to this blog. Thanks, Moshe - that's really cool. :)

sundry subjects

2005-04-10T11:10:00.000-07:00

I went to a record show yesterday. I used to attend these events regularly when I lived in Ann Arbor - I haven't been to one since I left, five years ago. A lot of nerdy guys eagerly thumbing through box after box of musty vinyl; a DJ spinning TV theme songs in one corner; more girls than I would have expected, but not many. I was on the hunt for more experimental records, but record shows aren't a good place for that. The table that had the most interesting stuff, of course, was also the table with the highest prices. I had to turn down two John Cage LPs and a Klaus Nomi LP because they were much too expensive. I was highly tempted by a copy of Sonic Youth's "Halloween" single - which originally had a naked woman on the cover but was censored by Rough Trade - but it was $15, and didn't seem worth it. I finally ended up with Mike Watt's "Ballhog or Tugboat?" on translucent blue vinyl. Unfortunately, it's either warped or else my little turntable isn't handling it very well. What I can make out is pretty awesome, though. Although I could do with never hearing Eddie Vedder sing, ever again.

Some people were hassling me to see violinist/whistler extraordinaire Andrew Bird last night. I've really gone off going to live shows - the discomfort and expense is almost never worth it unless the band is utterly transcendently mindblowing - but I reluctantly made my way down to the Doug Fir (trendy lame "lounge" venue) anyway. Fortunately, the show was sold out, so I didn't have to endure a bunch of rich club-hopping assholes talking loudly over Bird's limpidly lovely tuneage. Hopefully he'll come back and play the Aladdin or some other more civilized venue. At any rate, in lieu of the show, I picked up Bird's latest record, "The Mysterious Production of Eggs," at a nearby record shop. I'd already listened to it a couple of times on the Righteous Babe website, but it's nice to own it for real. (I know this is the 21st century and all, but there's a certain, perhaps anachronistic, satisfaction in owning a physical object rather than downloaded tracks on my computer.)

Sonic Youth played a show in Providence last night. I wonder if they played "Providence"? (Speaking of Mike Watt...) At any rate, apparently Jim O'Rourke could not attend due to a "family crisis," and being the over-emotional panty-wetting fangirl that I am, I got worried about him. I also got worried about Martin Phillipps of the Chills when he was diagnosed with hepatitis C, and Wilco's Jeff Tweedy when he went into rehab. It always seems odd to me to feel concern about someone you don't know. But on the other hand, when that person's music means something to you, maybe it's only natural to be worried. And only human. At any rate - "good vibes" to Jim and his family.

Sonic Youth manga!

2005-04-09T23:06:00.000-07:00

No, I don't know what it says either, but apparently "Jimu Oruuku" is laughing.

1997 interview with Jim O'Rourke

2005-04-08T15:26:00.000-07:00

I transcribed this from a CD sent to me by a nice person on the Wilco board. (Thanks, Josh.) It's an interview from some German radio show, circa Jim's 1997 release Bad Timing. The disjointedness of the interview is due to the fact that there were bits in German between the segments. I did my best with accuracy, but Jim says "like," "you know," "I mean," and "sort of" in almost every sentence, so I had to leave some of that out. Anyway, this interview is a big reason why I love Mr. O'Rourke. Enjoy.

I want to draw attention to the fact that music is manipulative, and I like to really exaggerate the gestures of something, or the form of something, in order to draw attention to that, to draw attention to how the music is communicating to you, instead of just blindly communicating to you. The method is more interesting to me than the result, you know? I like to work with - I like to talk about the method more than I like to believe, you know, that I make this gesture, and it equals this result. I don't like to believe that something always equates something else.

One of the things I like a lot about [the finger-picking music on Bad Timing] is the use of open tunings and the sort of resonance of the instrument when it's tuned well. I mean, it sort of crosses over into my interest with certain types of minimal music, like working with Tony Conrad, which is what I'm hopefully moving towards with the finger-picking music, as to me in some ways I hear very similar things in Tony Conrad's music and in John Fahey and other flatpicker's music, this sort of interest in the resonance of the instrument, the beauty of a well-tuned interval. And with myself, what I hope to do, I'm working on it, with the fingerpicking music, is working towards creating this sort of minimal music that utilizes fingerpicking and eventually other instruments, sort of a folk music equivalent to the kind of minimal music that I've always loved. I usually don't do things publicly until I've found myself in them. You know, I mean, I'm always interested in lots of music and lots of other mediums, but I don't think it's right for me to do things publicly until I've found what I can do with it. I don't want to just imitate somebody just because I like it. So always most of the stuff I've done, I never really enjoyed, because it was more that I felt that it was just necessary, it was a good thing to do for the message or the ideas I was trying to communicate to the audience. But for the first time in my life I'm actually enjoying doing the music, as well as finding that I'm hopefully going to get towards something that I haven't quite heard happen but I've been hearing in my head, something that makes sense to me, this sort of meeting between that sort of fingerpicking folk music and minimal music. So in some ways conceptually it's not out to lunch. I mean, when I was in high - when I was younger, all I did was write minimal music, and I think my first or second record had some of that stuff on it, but then I sort of, like, felt like I wasn't really quite - it wasn't all me, I wasn't satisfied, so I sort of stopped, and moved into other concerns, which were similar but were different concerns, and I kept working on playing the guitar in that way, but privately. And, uh, recently I felt like I had found what I was looking for, so I started doing it publicly. In some ways, this is the first time I've ever been interested in doing something, in some cases, on just a purely musical basis. . . I mean, I'd say this is probably the closest I've ever gotten to doing something that's musical. But I kind of - for the first time I don't really have a problem with it, because - again, it's just something about - yeah, I guess it does come back to the sound, because harmonically it does have to do with the sound, the stability of those intervals and the resonance of the instrument, it really… it's presenting itself in a way that's very communicative.

The kind of tape music I grew up really liking was, you know - it didn't take for granted the medium. It didn't, like, believe in the sort of established gestures of the medium, it always - I mean, I hate to use the term, but it's very existential. It refuses to accept things on face value. You have to know why it's like that. Because I think that's really the only way to learn about it. I mean, if you start to take things for granted, at face value, all of a sudden you've received all this information that is based on other information, which is based on other information, and what you're getting is so, like, manipulative after a while. It's like you're getting electroshocks right to the head. And I'm not interested in doing that. The process of learning about the subject has to be the way I make it. And the result may be - is not so much an answer, because I think that mentality of finding an answer is sort of a dead end. It's more like a, getting more. . . I mean, I'm not - I'm trying to be honest, I'm trying to get into the situation and figure out why I'm doing it, and working with the material - if I - I have to - the question of it's more important to me. The result may not be an answer, it may not be - the subject of the result may not be an act of finding it. But it's sort of like - more like a field report, you know. . . I've gotten this far, this is what I've found out. You know, it's not an answer, but it's hopefully something that makes it more. . . understandable.

I'm not implying the Kronos Quartet are a bunch of game players, but you know, you have to keep chatting them up, and you have to. . . yeah, you really do have to play a certain kind of game, and I'm just not built for that. It's just not me. I mean, I'm the kind of person who would rather, you know - I mean, I know a lot of people who are involved in that world, not so much musicians but people who are like presenters, or record label - and they have this kind of. . . elitist attitude about music like that. Like one person I know who's put out a lot of new music stuff, I had a talk with him the other day, and I said something about - that I had been asked to give a lecture at a university on Foghat. Do you know this band, Foghat? They're kind of like an AC/DC, kind of like boogie-rock thing. He was just completely disgusted by this idea, that I would even - the whole idea that I would even lower myself to listen to a band like AC/DC. Or something like US Maple or Melt-Banana - and I just think, "Whatever." Melt-Banana and US Maple, to me, are much more exciting and much more alive than any of this - a lot of this "new music" stuff. I'm not rejecting new music stuff, I just think that the whole idea that - I think everything always should be a case-by-case basis. I shouldn't like something just because it's new music. And I shouldn't like something just because it's rock music. But that's an attitude that was really tried to be instilled in me when I went to school. Like that - you need to "defend new music," and I think, "Well, everything should defend itself." Everything should stand up to its own tests, and if it doesn't, I don't care about it then. (laughs)

I'll have people say to me, "Oh, you make so many records," and then I'll think, well, I haven't personally made a record for two years. And I'll say, "What do you mean?" And they'll say something like, "Oh, what about the US Maple record?" And I'll say, "I recorded it. It's not me." But this mentality of product is so all-pervasive that people give you credit for something that isn't you, just because your name's on something, or you've been associated with it somehow. Like when people ask me for a compilation track or a remix or something. I mean - I take everything as seriously as if I was going to make something of my own, and so I'll take four months to do a remix, because I don't just view it as something to do when I wake up in the morning. I have to take - I have to really conceptualize and be very serious about everything I do, and so. . . I mean, I always have - and this isn't a thing like I'm trying to boast or anything - but I always get these opportunities to play with, like, famous people or do famous people remixes or whatever, and you know, if I don't see a real reason for doing it, a real aesthetic reason, I won't do it. There's people who have asked me to play with them, and I'm just like. . . ehh. I don't want to be like some sort of session cat, you know. Because I'm not so interested in playing the instrument, I'm not big on being a musician, I'm really not. And, you know. . . you'll get requests from people who want you to do a remix or a track, or like a compilation track, and you'll say, "Well, I need a couple months to do it," and "Oh, just send anything, send some leftover from the last record." I mean - I don't know if people realize it, but that's so insulting! It's like - what do you want, just some random indeterminate noise that has my name on it, or do you want what I do?

my advice to indie-rock whippersnappers

2005-04-06T14:24:00.000-07:00

Seriously, man, forget indie-rock, start tracking down out-of-print avant-jazz free improv records at gemm.com or Forced Exposure. Soon you will be incredibly poor, but you'll be able to lord it over your friends who are still listening to that Arcade Fire record over and over. "Arcade Fire? Dude, that's so old. I just got Pieotr Spiffovic's album of pan-flute/tape-loop improv on Strangled Otter Records, I read about it in The Wire... it's awesome!"

set the wayback machine for ROCK

2005-04-05T20:32:00.000-07:00

I have a ton of old concert reviews, going back about six years. Most of them were originally posted on the Robyn Hitchcock mailing list, so anyone reading this blog probably hasn't seen them before. I can't publish them anywhere, since they're out of date, so I might as well inflict them on you, my beloved readers. So, without further adoo...

Beulah
With John Vanderslice
Berbati's Pan, February 8, 2002

The Beulah show on Friday night was the finest show I have seen in many a moon. It took place at Berbati's Pan, known for its extremely rude and noisy audiences. (I am still baffled as to why people pay a $10 cover, just to babble away happily through an entire show.) It was also very smoky there - Oregon has not yet banned smoking in clubs - and of course I emerged from the show reeking like a three-day-old ashtray.

The opening act was John Vanderslice, whom I was already suspicious about because he had named one of his albums after a Neutral Milk Hotel lyric ("Mass Suicide Occult Figurines"); I am always dubious about indie acts who name-check other indie acts - I find it annoyingly self-referential. I thought he was dull, but my bandmate Alex put his foot down more firmly on the side of "actively bad." One song featured a chorus of "Keep the dream alive." I writhed. One of his bandmates was a guy from a local band, Kind of Like Spitting, who over-emoted painfully. Fortunately the set was short.

One opening act with a short set = a nice, satisfying long set from the main act. Hooray! Beulah took the stage presently - and a bunch of more ordinary-looking guys you could not hope to see. I found this strangely refreshing. The Moog keyboard guy was wearing a cowboy hat, and the bassist was one of the ugliest people I've ever seen - he literally looked like a frog. Miles Kurosky, the charismatic yet funny-looking lead singer, now has *two* red Epiphones, whereas the last time I saw him, he only had one. Bill Swan, guitarist/trumpeter guy, had a Gibson of some sort and a Fender Tele, so I guess he makes more money than Miles.

And then the rockin' began. Boy howdy, did they rock. They played their fucking hearts out. And to my surprise, the audience was *totally* into it, singing along and dancing and jumping around and generally having a good time. (The audience reaction is very important to my enjoyment of a show. When audience members are just sitting on the floor, as they did at the previous Beulah show I'd seen, it's a real bring-down for me.) The band played songs from all three of their albums - I like it when bands do this, instead of just concentrating on their new stuff - including my theme song, the epic "Emma Blowgun's Last Stand." They also did a kick-ass cover of "Psycho Killer." Miles has a great mellow stage presence, whether commenting on his critics ("People say we sound like the Beach Boys, but the thing is, I can't sing"), mildly admonishing the crowd for getting too rowdy ("Now, everyone has their own ways of expressing their affection, but you know, if I chip a tooth, my mom has to pay for it"), or admiring the beard of an audience member ("Most guys don't look good with beards, including me").

For a couple of songs, the band passed out percussion instruments to audience members and pulled them onstage. Some of them nervously hid in the background, others danced wildly and grandstanded to their heart's content. One girl jokingly went down on her knees before Miles in a suggestive sort of way, which marks the first time I have ever seen anyone even *hint* at performing simulated fellatio on an E6 band member. I couldn't see Miles's reaction, as his back was to me.

They played a satisfyingly long encore and at last quit the stage, leaving me sweaty (never wear a sweater to a rock show, folks) but very happy. I couldn't stop smiling about this show all weekend. Any other band I see this year will be hard-pressed to put on a better performance.

(more show reviews to come...)

I am Drag City's bitch

2005-04-05T19:09:00.000-07:00

Yahoo!

SMOGGING UP THE JOINT
May brings Smog in from the cold — on May 31th, the latest Smog release is A River Ain’t Too Much to Love on both LP and CD. It’s a warm, fuzzy Smog record, set in many natural settings — if you consider Bill “Smog” Callahan’s body a natural setting, that is! He’s got a full European tour set to start almost immediately after the record is released and a full American tour set to start almost immediately after that. So look for Smog in your town later this year.

just what you've all been waiting for...

2005-04-04T21:50:00.000-07:00

Decemberists bingo!

Here's the rules... print out the game sheets, and take your friends to see the Decemberists. As the setlist moves on, mark off the words as you hear them. First one to get bingo earns a drink, paid for by his or her friends.

Variation #1: You can play at home, too! Put in a Decemberists record, and set the stereo on shuffle mode. If you have multi-CD capabilities, I recommend putting in as many Decemberists records as possible and then shuffling the order. Now get your favorite bottle of booze. Every time you hear a word on the sheet, you take a shot, and mark off the word. First one to get bingo wins! And subsequently, is drunk.

Variation #2: This one is also for home. Put the Decemberists record(s) on shuffle. For each word you hear, take off a piece of clothing, and mark the word off. The first person to get bingo gets to put two pieces back on, and makes the others take off an additional piece of clothing. Repeat.

Variation #3: Use a combination of #1 and #2.

audio interview with Glenn Kotche of Wilco

2005-04-04T19:41:00.000-07:00

Beauty, brains and talent: http://www.notbencarter.phpwebhosting.com/Kotchemp3.mp3

Also, Glenn's band On Fillmore (with bassist Darin Gray) now has its own website. On Fillmore (described as "the revenge of the rhythm section") does spooky instrumentals, featuring lots of vibraphone and chines and augmented with found sound, that sound like they could be the soundtrack for a latter-day noir film. Definitely worth a listen.

some cool sites and sounds

2005-04-03T23:42:00.000-07:00

Rhys Chatham is a composer who was originally a protegee of early-60's NYC minimalists LaMonte Young and Tony Conrad, but eventually ended up being a major influence on later artists like Glenn Branca and Sonic Youth. (A Chatham performance where an E chord was played for half an hour made a big impression on a young Lee Ranaldo.) I was expecting Chatham's stuff to be... well, weirder, but it actually sounds more like rock n' roll to me, though you can hear the minimalist influence here and there. Check it out.

I also found a site dedicated to Asian classical music. I have not listened to all the sounds on this site yet, but I've already checked out the Indonesian gamelan tracks, the northern Thai music, and the amazing Burmese folk songs, which don't sound like any other Asian music I've heard. The sound quality is not very good - much of this music was taken from cassettes - but there's some pretty damn cool stuff here and the guy who runs the site obviously knows what he's talking about.

I found out about the Asian music site from EC Brown's MP3 Archive, which is one of the worst laid-out websites I've ever seen, but which has tons and tons of links to MP3's of all kinds of music. I'll no doubt be reporting more discoveries from this site in the future.

Titanium expose!

2005-04-03T13:15:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite record labels is Table of the Elements. I'd have a link to it in the sidebar but their website has been "under construction" for about a year now. Slackers.

Anyway, TOTE is a label out of Atlanta that's been around since 1993, and specializes in avant-garde and experimental music - they've released records by Tony Conrad, Rhys Chatham, Zeena Parkins, Pauline Oliveros, Gastr del Sol, and other outre luminaries.... you can see a partial list of releases here. Most of their stuff is in limited pressings, which is pretty common with labels of this type - the records don't sell well, so they don't make very many of them.

But another reason TOTE releases are limited is probably because they're expensive to produce - the packaging is absolutely gorgeous. This, along with the high quality of the music they put out, is what really makes me love this label. For instance, here's Gastr del Sol's "The Harp Factory on Lake Street" EP:

This is pretty typical of a TOTE release - a lot of metallic inks, great attention to detail (even the CD and the lettering are gold), a general lush feeling to the whole package. Also check out the beautiful silk-screened one-sided LPs (the Lantharides series) for sale on Forced Exposure. I had a look at some of these in real life - I was really lusting after the Rhys Chatham one, which is red vinyl with an astronomical diagram silk-screened in gold. TOTE releases are like little jewels. And that's even before you get to the music!

I own releases by John Fahey, Tony Conrad, and Gastr del Sol, and I'm probably going to be picking up Faust's "Rien" pretty soon, and maybe one of those silk-screened LPs as well. Tony Conrad's Early Minimalism box set has some awesome DVD footage of Conrad performing, and the Conrad/Gastr del Sol split 7" that I own came with a huge poster in metallic gold and purple ink. Unfortunately, the guy on eBay who sells a lot of TOTE stuff doesn't seem to be selling anything right now, but his name is "mercatorp" - keep an eye out for him. My last purchase from him came with a bunch of posters, postcards, and coolest of all, POSTAGE STAMPS featuring various TOTE artists. (They're not real stamps, but wouldn't it be cool if Jim O'Rourke postage stamps actually existed?)

So in summary, whenever you see a TOTE release in the store that looks remotely interesting to you, you should pick it up, because it's probably going to be out of print soon, and you'll be getting a feast for both your eyes and ears. They're definitely worth the money.

yankee... hotel... foxtrot...

2005-04-02T11:09:00.000-08:00

yankee... hotel.... foxtrot... yankee... hotel... foxtrot...

Bastro: smart gets angry

2005-04-01T11:52:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, there was a Louisville, KY punk band called Squirrel Bait. When they broke up, they splintered into two bands, one of which was the much-beloved and hyped band Slint, whose seminal album Spiderland is considered to have been the beginning of the "math-rock" genre. The other band was Bastro, featuring singer/guitarist David Grubbs and drummer John McEntire. Bastro eventually mutated into the avant-rock/post-rock band Gastr del Sol (featuring whiz-kid Jim O'Rourke). Confused yet? Here's a family tree which will probably make you even more confused.

Bastro seems to have been the forgotten stepchild in this family tree. I discovered them when my interest in Jim O'Rourke led me to Gastr del Sol and an appreciation for David Grubbs' guitar virtuosity and oblique lyrics. I picked up their second album "Sing the Troubled Beast" last year and was completely blown away by its combination of ferocious rock attack and mind-bending musical complexity. Grubbs spat and snarled, a complete transformation from the professorial image he projected on later records; McEntire sounded capable of destroying the universe with his drumsticks. The pinnacle of the album was "I Come From a Long Line of Shipbuilders," which culminates with Grubbs (apparently celebrating a Viking ancestry) screaming, "HAMMER HURLER HAMMER HURLER HAMMER HURLER!" as if wanting to vomit his lungs out.

This year saw the release of a "new" Bastro album, "Antlers: Live 1991," on Grubbs' Blue Chopsticks label, a recording of performances from Bastro's final tour in Europe. At this point, the line-up consisted of Grubbs, McEntire, and bassist Bundy K. Brown, who would also play on the first Gastr del Sol album. The material on this album is all unreleased, all instrumental, and several tracks surfaced on subsequent albums; for instance, "Glistery" became the Gastr track "Dictionary of Handwriting," and "Educated Fool" (much slowed down) eventually transformed into the charming "Fool Summons Train," off of Grubbs' first solo album. The music is more considered, more complex, lacking some of the ferocity of their studio albums. Nevertheless, Grubbs says in the liner notes, "Excluding Squirrel Bait's best shows, it was the most abandon I've felt onstage."

This is intensely male music. But we're not talking heavy metal or hardcore here. Bastro is smart male music: simultaneously aggressive and intellectual. Masculinity isn't often associated with intelligence in our society - the intellectual male is usually pictured as a little bespectacled wimp. But David Grubbs and co. make the connection, smarts bursting out from the convoluted guitars and shifting time signatures and oddball lyrics as the band hurtles along with pure masculine punk energy. Bands like this don't have many female fans - too male, not emotional enough, I reckon. But me, I'm a sucker for a smart manly man. And "Antlers'" accompanying DVD footage - featuring a shirtless, sweaty John McEntire pounding his kit - just seals the deal. All hail the angry intellectuals!

Manifesto

2005-03-30T15:08:00.000-08:00

The previous day I had seen Goodman perform. To me, he was mediocre. So I asked around what was the big deal about him. And I was told he had written a very "important" song, "The City of New Orleans." Not only was it "important," it was also "relevant."

...I remembered the song. It is an aggressively bland and aggressively consonant song. It is too perfect for my blood. There are no rough edges. It is a smoothie. A song that a person would write exactly the way some stupid book about writing songs said that you should write songs. Inoffensive. Safe.

I mean, it is just the glorification of an Illinois-Central-Gulf passenger train that ran between Chicago and New Orleans. The train was very popular and aggressively picturesque. Everybody loved it. If it still exists, Amtrak runs it.

So Goodman write this one very safe and intensely agreeable song. He wrote a song about something commonplace, unremarkable, everyday, something known about by millions, habitual, conventional, truly prosaic, quotidian, workaday, pansophical, cogitative, easily seen, ordinary, down-to-earth, nontranscendent. He might as well have written a song about something else that everybody is in agreement about.

Like food. Water. Clothes. Water lilies. Pretty girls. Music. Air. "Home."

Too bad he didn't write a song about the virtue of something mysterious, ambiguous, obscene, occult, new, transcendent, something that does not yet exist but is coming into being, something, oh well.

- John Fahey, How Bluegrass Music Destroyed My Life