Thursday, August 30, 2007
Damn. I can't think of anything to blog about. I listened to a bunch of music today. I listened to the first Clap Your Hands Say Yeah album, forgetting how fantastic it is.
Well, I've got nothing, so, have a looksee at this.
Saturday, August 25, 2007
And this was pretty interesting, but it made me feel a little weird. It's probably the best PR move I've seen the army do in... ever. Pretty shrewd if you ask me. I doubt they'll get any recruits out of this, though, I'm pretty sure I like the brass in charge more than I ever have before.
Friday, August 24, 2007
Two nights ago I went to see Wolf Parade with my friend, Brian. It was an awesome show. The opening band we saw was kind of bullshit. Unlike the first time I saw Wolf Parade when Holy Fuck opened and blew everyone's minds. Wolf Parade were on fire, though. And drunk. They took to calling themselves Del Scorcho (because of the Tecate they were drinking in large sums). Sums? Amounts, more likely. They played a bunch of new songs that were great, but the best parts were the old songs. Only because they were so tight on those songs. I spent the time after the show contemplating if this was a better show than Parts & Labor which up until that night was the best show I've seen this year.
When I actually think about it, this has been one of the best years for shows in a long time. Two nights of Yo La Tengo, TV on The Radio, The Rosebuds' last show at Kings (with the indescribable greatness that was Monotonix), the last night of Kings itself, Parts & Labor, and now Wolf Parade. There were even more shows that I missed out on, and a few biggies on the horizon. Like next month's Andrew Bird show at The Carolina Theatre.
I would have posted this yesterday, and it probably would have been fresher with more anecdotes about the actual show, if it weren't for my neighbors. I've complained about them here before, and I'm going to do it again. Yesterday in between my shifts, as I walked home, I saw a crazy stir of flies right by the walkway to the house. Oh god, could this be Tabitha, I thought? (Tabitha is their declawed house cat that they make live outdoors). No, it wasn't as awful as that, instead, it was a pile of spaghetti with meat sauce. Nowhere near the trash can that was sitting fifteen feet away on the curb (which wasn't even picked up, I'm starting to get mad at the trash men too, but I'll leave that for later). This complete disregard for well, everything is infuriating. There's also the room sized rug they've had on the curb for more than a month, the trash bags they leave on the ground to rot when one of our two cans are full.... FUCK! When I go outside this afternoon, if I see a pile of spaghetti still, I'm gonna lose my shit. It's clearly not our spaghetti. We haven't had spaghetti in weeks.
I did make an amazing dinner last night, though. Pan seared rainbow trout with whipped sweet potatoes, roasted marshmallows, and finished with a pecan shallot brown butter. It was the best thing I've ever made.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Saturday, August 18, 2007
My brother, Dan and I went to
Dan in the parking deck last night.
Friday, August 17, 2007
Like waking up to find Patrick Duffy in the shower, or when Lisa Simpson grew a world from her baby tooth in a bowl of Coca Cola. Philadelphia’s Creeping Weeds are impossible characters singing songs from deep inside of dream sequences. The music is shambolic, yet carefully layered thus recalling obvious influence Modest Mouse. Yet Creeping Weeds aren’t trying to be Modest Mouse, thankfully. No one’s yelping or trying to wrap their head around the entirety of existence in this band. Not that that’s a bad thing, but you know, things like that are best left to the professionals. The press release that accompanied this CD told me to read it if I liked The Beatles, Modest Mouse, or Neil Young. Read if I like the Beatles?! Read if I like cake on my birthday?
The stand out song of the album is the seven-minute "Derelict", tick-tocking it’s way into a twisted, ass-less funk riff. Xylophones and sitars pop up unexpectedly in the slow build of the song, echoing surf guitar leads the bass into the final minutes, where that funk riff finally gets an ass and starts shakin’ it. Then it starts slowing down, sounding like the last sputters of that perpetual motion machine that you were sure would work when you dreamed it up last night. I’m not sure why I keep coming back to the idea of dreams when I listen to this album. Is it the suggestion of the title, is it a concept album that I’m not listening intently enough to? Is there brilliance in a concept album that floats in the ether? That doesn’t announce itself? Or is this just a regular, dreamy style album, and I’m reading too much into it?
We Are All Part of A Dream You’re Having sounds like the second album that Clap Your Hands Say Yeah wanted to make. It’s more rounded out than the unbalanced experiments of Some Loud Thunder. The shifts from serpentine epics to lilting country numbers isn’t jarring, it’s smooth and considered. Even inside that lilting country number, "Our Country Home", moves made here seem natural, that, in other hands, would seem like hammy parlor tricks. At one point in "Our Country Home" they abandon the back porch for the angular rocking of the rest of the album, only to drop back into the countryside for thirty seconds at the end of the song. Creeping Weeds move about the album like it’s a perfect mix tape. That one where you got that perfect transition from "Get On The Good Foot" to "Swordfish Trombones".
Creeping Weeds have made a strong debut that stands above other entry-level indie rockers. There’s a sense of ease in their playing, even at their most wound-up. The musicians play together like a relaxed conversation between old friends. This album hints at the bigger things that they are capable of, not unlike the hints of that first Modest Mouse album, with a similarly long title.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
The record is just guitar/drums/vocals. It's a bit folksy, or singer songwriterly, but then again, not. Maybe I'm just having a terrible time trying to describe this. It's just very good, especially surprising for something I know nothing about. It's a pretty tight record, no throwaways, like the ideal of a great Cat Power record. One where she miraculously avoids making a dirge about suicide.
A very pretty cat came up to our back door last night. Her name was Tabitha. We couldn't get a hold of her owner, so we assumed by her declawed paws that she was a housecat who got out and got lost. She was a tabby that was half gold and half brown/black. Half of her face was gold, the other half the standard tabby color configuration. There were gold patches that popped up in unexpected places, with little white boots for feet. We brought her in for the night, which upset Coltrane and Black Sabbath, but we assumed that this cat was lost, and that it definitely shouldn't be outdoors without claws. This morning her owner called and it was one of the girls who just moved in next door. She's out of town, and she just left her cat out in this shitty heat. That's awful. When she gets back we're gonna give her a good talking to about caring for your cat. You shouldn't let a declawed cat live outside, she can't defend herself. Especially against the fairly mean white and black cat that swats at our window when Coltrane or Sabbath are watching birds from the inside. I just went out back and saw that the food bowls she had set up for Tabitha on her back stoop are empty! It's a shame. So, Tabitha, if you've somehow surpassed standard cat knowledge and learned how to read, and happened upon this post while you were Googling yourself, you're welcome to come over and stay the night whenever you'd like.
Fun little video from a contest to make a video for this Guilt By Association compilation that's coming out soon. There's going to be a release party at the West End Wine Bar on Franklin St (Chapel Hill) on the fifth of next month. It's got some great looking tracks on it, like the above Petra Haden song, as well as Superchunk covering Destiny's Child and Will Oldham covering Mariah Carrey.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
I had this really wierd dream, where I was going around Carborro with Amanda, only I was a sort of pariah in the town and I was Bart Simpson. No one wanted me inside of their stores/bars/restaurants. So I had to sit outside and wait. A dog chased me away from Orange County Social Club, so I started walking aimlessly around town. I ran into my friend Melissa, and we hung out on the streets, giving fake shortcuts to all the people riding their bikes. Eventually a bike enforcement agent came by, and started hasslin' us. He told us to throw all of our ice into the ice recycling machine. It was a long chute in the middle of a sidewalk, a slow moving metal conveyer belt inside the chute. As I'm dumping the ice down the chute, I knock a few plastic food containers below the chute. I look up and now Melissa's the bike enforcement agent, and she's writing me a series of tickets. "I'm writing you up for littering!" Which seems silly to me, I have this idea that I'm more environmentally aware than she is, so I feel that I have some leeway in knocking some plastic under a large moving metal device. No such luck, I stick my arm down the hole and pull up pounds and pounds of plastic food containers, she throws out the ticket. We walk into the back of a restaurant, and it's staffed by the kitchen staff of my restaurant. Jair, the lunch cook in our regular universe, hands me a cheap plastic acoustic guitar. I quickly bang out a really loud White Stripes song, "Screwdriver". I add the lyrics from their song "Cannon", the part about John The Revelator.
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Went to a party last night at some stranger's house. Whose name I can't remember. Sorry, stranger, I'm no good with names. I'm also going to apologize, stranger, I broke your plastic chair while I was horseplaying, trying to kick Jenny and remain seated. So, now might not be the greatest of times to ask you, stranger, but I remember you taking pictures of Marco and I dueting "Let's Get It On" karaoke style, if you could email them to me...
It was one of the few instances where I didn't bring my trusty camera with me, and we bring the house down with some earth shattering soul stylings.
Quote of the night... "How long does it take after you see a tiger tied to a lampost while you're jogging, for you accept Jesus as your personal savior?"
- I fixed the link for Marco's blog in the link bar.
- This is my 91st post.
- Today, I continue my Raleigh Taqueria tour 2007
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Our old pals at FEMA continue to impress with their vigorous fucking up of everything they touch. The Associated Press reports that those infamous "FEMA trailers" might just be poisonous. FEMA has suspended any donating or selling of the trailers while a study is being conducted into whether they are the cause of fomeldahyde poisoning. This is one in the extremely long parade of disasters post Katrina.
In my opinion, Katrina wouldn't have been nearly as deadly if Conservatives didn't exist. If they were a fringe group like Michigan militias. The corner cutting, the shrinking the size of the government until you can drown it in a bathtub philosophy of modern conservatism can be directly blamed for fuckups like these. The chintzing on the materials and quality of the levies, the poor response time, the backup of trailers being handed out in the first place, American citizens being actual refugees in their own country, in one of the nation's largest cities... you can trace each of these problems beyond apathy and into private contractors doing work the government should be doing. Why did Roosevelt big government work and post-Nixon big government not? The conservatives slowly worked to hollow out the carcass of the beast they killed, and when something heavy landed on it, it crumbled to dust. Bodies floating, bloated and face down, convience stores serving as the banks of the deadly river... I've been more ashamed of being an American in the past six years... And what's being done? The Senate caves in to Bush and EXPANDS his warantless wiretap program? Only after Bush nixes the actions of his own director of National Intelegince's deal with the congress. And the Senate passes it by a large majority. Why are they so spineless? They have the power to just vote it down. They have a majority in numbers, why would they cave to the worst president ever? He's not even popular anymore, what threat does he pose to them?
Fuck it. I could go on about this for hours. But I'm done for now.
Things That Make Me Feel Warm Inside, This Trailer For The New Wes Anderson Movie, Bourbon, "Muzzle Of Bees" by Wilco...
I can't wait! I absolutely cannot wait for this movie to come out. I just can't. Jesus it looks good. I've always been a huge fan of Wes Anderson, as is evidenced by the top of the blog, Life Aquatic is my favorite movie of all time. I try to throw in little references to it whenever I can, especially the leeches part from the Lightning Strike on Ping Island scene. Sigh. September can't come quick enough.
Though, I was secretely hoping that the movie what we caught a glimpse of in Wes Anderson's American Express commercial.