My thoughts, views, critiques, fanboyisms, and rantings about music. Also movies and books, I guess.
Click the links to find great video footage, wikipedia definitions, band bios/photos, and more.
Sometimes Live albums are better than "greatest hits" albums. It's true in JT's case. This is an old double album my parents used to have. Some really great stuff here like the lead-off track, "Sweet Baby James", which is a personal favorite. The country classic George Jones-penned "She Thinks I Still Care" glides along with depth and experience and a funny twist that is apparent upon onset. "Slap Leather" is sort of a JT-style honky-tonk blues song in the finger-pointing/list style of "We Didn't Start the Fire" or "It's the End of the World (and we know it)" ahead of it's time, apposing the Gulf War (I mean the first one) and discussing the phenomenon of phone sex. "Steam Roller Blues" is essential James Taylor and show his breadth and culture-crossing authenticity. It's a bad-ass song with intensity and sexual energy. Each song here is a better version than the studio recordings, which, for JT have always been a little stale unitl the mid 90s.
Humor. Depth. Breadth. Range. and a beautiful voice.
and Amoeba is selling em used for like $6.
"I'm a duh-duh-duh-d-d-d-d-demolition derby boy, baby."
I don't know if this happens to you, but on an extremely regular basis I am approached by fellow shoppers while I'm minding my own business- doing my own shopping, and am mistaken for a store employee and asked for assistance. This happens at a variety of stores; some you'd expect and some you wouldn't.
Sometimes I am asked, "Do you work here?" and sometimes the costumer just makes their request known from the get-go, like "Where would I find Van Halen?" or "Can you have the forklift guys bring down another pallet of two-by-tens?" and "Do you know you're all out of the organic cran-raspberry juice?" ....to which I often reply simply, "Sorry, I don't work here." But the truth is, I usually can answer their question and if I'm in the right mood I just help them out without saying anything about not really being employed there.
The day after Father's Day, Jill sorta gave me my own father's day on my day off by taking me to the record store- my favorite place. Two Amoeba Records gift certificates were burning a hole in my pocket. Why the gift certificates? Well, my appetite for collecting records does not match my income bracket, so there are two times a year (Christmas and the end of the school year) when gift certificates from my students to big-box book stores and local record stores allow me to indulge... and yes, I spend my book store gift cards on CDs.
Anyway, one of the discs I planned to purchase at Amoeba was Weezer's new "Red Album". I've been a huge fan ever since their first single hit alternative radio (didn't radio used to be so different?). I've collected everything they have- singles, eps, deluxe editions. When we got there, I went straight to the W's and found a special edition digi-pack with bonus tracks. Then I sensed a disturbance in the force. Really terrible music was being played over the PA system and wafted into my ears like stink into a nose. And when I honed in to identify it (a gift I have), I realized it was the very album I was holding. Still, I kept it with me as I looked for how to use the remainder of my gift certificates, hoping that song was just a fluke. But song after song fell flat. I was almost embarrassed for them. I was willing to overlook the cover art I could only describe as weak sauce, but these songs were silly, ill-conceived, adolescent, overly tongue-in-cheek, and every note of it betrayed the way we felt when we listened to "In the Garage" from our own garages in highschool.
My eyes met Jill's from across the record store the way that two strangers do in the movies, when their eyes lock for the very first time and they know it's love. Except this time, the way I knew it was love is that we both mouthed the words, "This is terrible!" at the same time.
I put it back on the rack, feeling the way Wendy must have felt when she left Peter Pan behind. Sorry guys. I've grown up and you haven't.
It's not like me to fall for the "IT" band. It was never my style to have a crush on the popular girl. If I watch sports, I like to root for the underdog or the team that's losing (especially if they have better uniforms or prettier colors). So when Vampire Weekend became Pitchfork's little wunderkinder, I was kind of grossed out. I don't like "IT" bands and I don't like gimmick bands. But, truth be told, I loved a track called "A Punk" that a friend put on a mix CD for me, however swore I would not give in.
And alas, I caved (and for good reason) when I read and podcasted some critique of the album that I felt was off-base. Music journalists were criticizing either VW's borrowing of South African lead guitar style (popularized by Paul Simon's "Graceland") or criticizing them for focusing, lyrically, on sort of a preppy North-Eastern ivy league theme. I think what these journalists do not get is that this is a double gimmick band! And besides that, the two gimmicks are very juxtaposed. Think about it- South African guitars (that means usually means a sound made by using a neck position humbucking pickup with a little chorus and a little slap-back playing fast and melodic single-note runs that are often poly-rhythmic) and rhythms juxtaposed with songs about preppy life in the Hamptons. Hell, there's a song called "Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa". Genius!
There are songs about people named Walcott and Bryn, places like Cape Cod and Hyannisport, and name-drop things like Colors of Bennetton, Ivy League schools, Louis Vuitton, authors and painters I've never heard of, etc. The liner notes even contain a picture of a pair of white leather deck shoes! And all this against this shanty-town style South African guitar. It's brilliant.
Jill and I listen to it over and over again. Lilly dances to it more than any other record. And we have anew favorite song with every listen. But I think my standing favorite is "Campus" which has a chorus I can picture Morrissey singing and a bridge with the simple words, "In the afternoon, you're out on the stone and grass. And I'm sleeping on the balcony after class." that I just love and somehow remind me of Chabot junior college. The song also contains a tinge of 90's indie rock that I can't really place.
A friend loaned me this mandolin she found in a family member's closet with the sole condition being that I fix it up and put it to good use. Well arright. This is a very cool instrument and a very fun challenge. Here are some pictures of the mandolin and my restoration project. Note: super cool tweed custom case not shown.
Here is the mandolin with the bridge and tuning pegs removed. Replacement pegs shown. Two of the "original" (they're old, but probably not the original tuners) tuning machines did not work, so the main task here is to get them working in order for the instrument to be playable. When I went to replace the tuning pegs, I realized that the holes in the headstock are slightly too small for modern pegs. Maybe they were metric or something. In order to fit the standard US pegs, I had to bore out the existing holes to widen them. This is just a cool picture that shows how, at one time, someone had glued on a cheat sheet to the fretboard that showed the exact note of each fret on each string. Over time the paper has disintegrated. Very cool. Current status: Still working on getting the new tuning machines to line up with the original holes. Takes some coaxing and finding just the right size screws to "suck up" the machines to the back of the headstock. Will post updates soon.
Two days after their new album, "Rearrange Us" came out, I took Jill out for a special date to get some dinner and see Mates Of State- her fave band- at Slim's. We've been MOS fans for about a decade now. One of my old bands played with them at one of their first CA shows, played with them several times since, collected their entire discography, and we often saw them in small, intimate venues around SF.
But standing here in 2008 at an all-ages show in a large venue with kids younger than we were when we "discovered" Mates who are all methed out and lighting cigarettes in my wife's hair, it seemed a little strange. Jill grabbed a strung-out school child by the arm and said, "This is not how we behave in a public place!" as Mates of State rattled off lines from their new album like: "I know when the kids are all grown we will still have this blue and gold print," and "Bought a home, we bartered right. Two kids, two car: delight." Not exactly your standard rebellious rock n roll fare.
And we were right there with them in their domestic state of mind, worrying about keeping the babysitters too late, feeling the indigestion from the Thai food we ate. We headed home early with a special edition screen printed poster commemorating the evening. Blue and pink elephants and giraffes handing each other ice cream cones. We put it up in the baby's room, and in a 29-year-old-going-on-30 way, I thought, "I know when the kids are all grown we will still have this blue and pink print."
Here's a great song off the new album. Haven't adequately explored the rest yet.
Despite the market analysts saying that the CD will soon be invalid and totally replaced by digital files rather than hard copies and even outlived by the vinyl LP, which is becoming a more sought after commodity than ever, I remain faithful to the CD.
Since I moved to Berkeley like six years ago, I haven't owned a record player. All my rare and treasured collection of punk and indie LPs and 7 inches have been cooped up in a cardboard box. Lately I haven't had the budget for CDs the way I have in the past and concluded to trade in the vinyl at Amoeba Records. They offered me a measly sum in trade, but I took it anyway and quickly spent it on those shiny silicon discs that I love.
We got this record in March to take with us up to the mountains where we hid out in my aunt's cabin for the better part of a week. I had heard about it and thought it might be a good soundtrack to our Spring trip.
I am not a fan of either artist represented here. I like Alison Krauss fine, and you'll find my opinion of Alison Krauss' solo career embedded below. And, though I understand Led Zeppelin's (a little band Robert Plant used to front) place and importance in rock history, I find them annoying and shallow.
That said, what an incredible album this is! The real artist here is T-Bone Burnett, the album's producer and band leader (you know, the guy that produced O Borther?). He's the orchestrator and mastermind on this album. Robert Plant and Allison Kraus just happen to be singing on the same album. What makes the record is really the textures created by the guitars (played partly by Burnett). They produce sounds here that are truly American and can only be described as such. Deep tremolo. Dark overdriven tube amps. Lush reverb. And multiple times does drummer Jay Bellerose conjure the 16th note ride rhythm reminiscent of Ray Charles' "What'd I say".
Gone is the watered-down, Nashvilled-up commercial version of bluegrass that Krauss has branded (haven't we heard enough of that guy playing the slide dobro?). Rather, her voice is the constant here: not a lot of infection or interpretation, and this provides the blank canvas on which to layer the instruments. See, usually it's the opposite- the band provides the background and the singer provides the personality. On Raising sand, Krauss' and Plant's voices are the vanilla ice cream on which to slather the syrup, heavy cream, and maraschinos that are the smart, cinematic American guitars.
Plant's role here is interesting to me because I sometimes feel that the English sometimes really get it right when they interpret Americana. He plays it cool through these numbers and serves the songs rather than himself. Only once or twice does his signature orgasmic squealing come up, but in moderation and at very smart junctures.
Highlights here are "Killing the Blues", Townes Van Zandt's "Nothin'", the opener "Rich Woman", and the tear-jerking closer "Your Long Journey".
I disagree with people who think that darker, more negative art brings you down. I think it's kinda opposite- like if you're arready down, you sorta connect with negative lyrics or whatnot and that sorta validates you and makes you feel good. Ever since my spring break, I've been connecting with these very negative lyrics. They grab my attention and I connect with them. I guess around about that same time, some personal stuff came up and that probably explains it.
Some are lyrics I just connected with, and some are ones that spoke to my situation.
Being born is going blind.And biting down a thousand times. --Tones Van Zandt
You say you wouldn't want an angel watchin' over you.Well, surprise surprise, they wouldn't wanna watch. -- The National
Nothing is best. --The Byrds
When you think it's easy, just believe you're deceived. --Damien Jurado
Holy shit, there's a company in my back! --Wilco
I'm not trying to be a grump here. On the contrare! Sometimes it feels good to here someone tell you, "It's OK to feel the way you feel." And, at least for me, it makes me feel better.
The latest full-length from indie rock slowcore veteran Mark Kezelek and his outfit Sun Kil Moon. It's called "April" and was released the first Tuesday of April. I pre-ordered this at Christmastime and got it before the release date. It came hand-numbered and signed and with a bonus disc that might be better than the actual album.
Lemme just speak of the bonus disc for a minute: it's stripped-down versions of 4 of the songs from the album and provide an intimate, maybe more accessible, route to the heart of these songs.
I was really looking forward to Sun Kil Moon's return to a rocker like "Salvador Sanchez" from the first album, but it is only attempted herein tunes like "The Light" and "Tonight the Sky", but they fall short in being too repetitive and dry.
The jewels here are dreamy acoustic and clean songs that are understated and quiet. They speak directly about the beauty of California landmarks, geography of Spain, and Ohio childhoods and memories that seem starkly only partial. Mark Kozelek, as a songwriter, is obviously exploring here and not emphasizing the editing process in his own songwriting, but letting these ten minute droners tell the journey of his writing process and mental train of thought.
Highlights are the Will Oldham (Bonnie Prince Billy/Palace) guest vocals on "Unlit Hallway" and the spooky classical guitar duet of "Heron Blue".
Probably more of a fan record. New listeners should check out the first two records as an entry point.
Arright. I haven't been posting lately. Maybe for a couple months, really. Been very busy. My publicist and my crack team of statisticians tell me that my recent lack of posting has cost me one fourth of my readership. And by that, I think they mean I've actually just lost one of the four people who read my blog.
So over the next couple of days I will be posting a couple of blog entries that I wrote, but maybe didn't post or finish. THESE POSTS WILL BE IN BLUE TEXT.
Sometimes Live albums are better than "greatest hits" albums. It's true in JT's case. This is an old double album my parents used to have. Some really great stuff here like the lead-off track, "Sweet Baby James", which is a personal favorite. The country classic George Jones-penned "She Thinks I Still Care" glides along with depth and experience and a funny twist that is apparent upon onset. "Slap Leather" is sort of a JT-style honky-tonk blues song in the finger-pointing/list style of "We Didn't Start the Fire" or "It's the End of the World (and we know it)" ahead of it's time, apposing the Gulf War (I mean the first one) and discussing the phenomenon of phone sex. "Steam Roller Blues" is essential James Taylor and show his breadth and culture-crossing authenticity. It's a bad-ass song with intensity and sexual energy. Each song here is a better version than the studio recordings, which, for JT have always been a little stale unitl the mid 90s.
