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October 10, 2007

Skeleton Ed, the reunion tour. ::
music — tagged , and
9:36 am

One show only, at the Seventh Street Entry in Minneapolis. Sorry I missed this.

September 5, 2007

!: more music ::
music — tagged , , and
11:15 am

So, another music list. It’s been a pretty music-intensive summer for me, and the end result has been a nice expansion of my music collection. With that, a few notes on the list below. First, there has been a lot of interesting electronica coming out this year, and the minimalist sounds of The Field’s From Here We Go Sublime has been some of the best of that crop of music. In the more familiar genres, Band of Horses’s “Is There A Ghost” totally rocks; my palms sweat a little when I think about the release of their new album in a month. You can hear the new track yourself on the band’s MySpace page. “Sun A.M.” mysteriously showed up on my iPod a few months ago and its catchy Swedish pop melody has worked its way into my heart. And finally, no mix of mine would be complete without some song from Spoon.

Oh, and the exclamation point title doesn’t have that much meaning. I just found it floated the song list to the top of my iTunes playlists.

August 31, 2007

Distance: a song list ::
music — tagged , , and
6:58 am

I need to get back into posting more regularly. So with that being a priority, here’s a song list we’ve been listening to this summer, entitled Distance. Sorry, no commentary on the individual tracks, which I know I’ve set something of a precedent for doing; I thought it more important just to get this post out the door. Ok, I need to continue looking for work.

December 24, 2006

Healing: A song list ::
music — tagged , , , , , and
12:13 pm

So I’m back in Buffalo for Christmas. The trip here was exhausting. After an eight hour car ride I tumbled from my dad’s car with a stiff leg feeling very, very cranky. My time here overall has been fun, and it’s been nice to show family members that, even though I’m still on crutches and have still-unhealed surgery scars, my condition has improved dramatically from the day I was discharged from the hospital. Also, it’s been fun to show off my x-rays and watch people squirm when I point out the fracture that starts from my hip and spirals around my femur.

So, with introductions aside, I put this mix together a couple of weeks ago while in the hospital, high on Percocet. I’m pretty happy with the sound of this one, much moreso than Winterish or the Fall mix. In part the outcome is the result of my immobility at the time, which allowed me the concentration and time it takes to make a good mix. But also, I think it’s an indication that drugs and rock and roll really do go together quite well.

Halloween by Matt Pond PA: Is it un-hip for an indie rock snob to actually like Matt Pond PA? No matter what the critics might say about the band’s artistic shortcomings, I fell for this song long before it would have otherwise been tainted by other’s opinions. And it’s dramatic lyrics, combined with the piano, acoustic guitar, and pedal steel make for a really seductive sound.

Pushover by The Long Winters: I first found this song over the summer, through a Music for Robots post. Since then the track has appeared and reappeared on a variety of playlists and mix CD’s I’ve put together. I finally picked up the CD at Amoeba Records when I was in SF in August.

Don’t Call Me Whitney, Bobby by The Islands: “Bones, bones, brittle little bones,” go the opening lyrics of this track. When I first added it to the list, I didn’t even think about how apropos to my condition the song actually was—I was thinking more about just how pretty the song is. But boy, does this one fit perfectly.

The End’s Not Near by Band of Horses: Band of Horses covering a song by The New Year for the OC Soundtrack. I really don’t know that much about The OC, but the track is really great—it’s an interesting reinterpretation of the original version of the song, in which the band makes the song their own.

Steps and Numbers by Appleseed Cast: They’re such a curious band, which moved from a straight ahead (and pretty annoying) Midwestern emo outfit to a post-rock band with a melodic, unique sound. So far, Low Level Owl has been the high point of their sound for me, but I also haven’t heard any of their most recent releases. But that’s on my to-do list, definitely.

Sukie in the Graveyard by Belle and Sebastian: I don’t love the album, but I do love this song. It does a great job of snapping the mix back into line after the more airy, nebulous sound of the previous track.

Hard Bargain by Ron Sexsmith: Ah, the underappreciated Ron Sexsmith. This is a great track that emotes a feeling of being beat up but willing to come back the next day for more.

Song for the Myla Goldberg by The Decemberists: This is the first song I heard by the Decemberists, and it’s the one that caused me to really fall for the band. But it’s never made it onto any of my mixes. So now’s as a good a time as any to finally add it to my song list. And the lyrics, especially the tongue-twister “I know New York, I need New York I know I need unique New York” always makes me smile, especially when I sing along and get it right.

This is the Way by Devendra Banhart: An interesting song in which Devendra sings about his physical self. One thing about this broken leg, as well as the healing process, is how aware of my physical self I have become during this time. With that in mind, the track works really well here.

Radio Campaign by M. Ward: Hey, I’ve been into M. Ward since August, and I think I’ve had one of his tracks on each of my mixes since then. So here’s another one. Here he pleads, “come back, come back my little peice of mind…” As I sit here, leg aching and knowing that I couldn’t get up to visit friends, get food, or go to the bathroom without a big production, I really know how he feels.

Paper Thin Walls by Modest Mouse: after the more intellectual, introspective stretch of tracks, I needed something to change the tone a bit. I found this song on a whim and thought it was perfect. Do you remember when the Moon and Antarctica came out in, what, 2000? And do you remember how new and exciting the track was? I sure do, now that I’ve heard this song. Now the album is back in my iTunes rotation.

A King And A Queen by Okkervil River: There’s an element of melodrama to all of Okkervil River’s music, and it provides me with a feeling of catharsis every time I hear it. This slow, acoustic number is a perfect example. Did I mention that my roommate went to high school with the lead singer? I’m totally serious!

Sleeping In by The Postal Service: One thing I like about the Postal Service is the sense of calm the songs seem to bring in the face of apocalyptically bad news. This song is a perfect example: here the singer dreams that global warming was simply a reward for humans being so good to each other. “No we can swim every day in November,” the verse concludes. It’s definitely not something I’d want to maintain in my entire life, but while I’m healing it makes me feel just a little bit better.

Throwing Things (Acoustic) by Superchunk: I pulled this track off of Superchunk’s Incidental Music, a compilation of the band’s singles and b-sides from the early 1990’s. This is a wonderful acoustic rendition of the electric original, and can make me weep if I hear it at the right time.

Reconstruction Site by The Weakerthans: this is probably John Samson at his most melodic and fun. This great sing-along tune can help me see the bright side of just about any dismal situation.

The Ballad of Daykitty by Lou Barlow: Lou Barlow is so strange—his music can range from exploring the deepest, darkest emotions to just having fun. This track, which closes out Barlow’s Emoh release, is an example of his later line of songs, in which he sings of a cat who, after much flirtation, decides to come and live with him.

December 3, 2006

Winterish: a song list ::
music — tagged , , and
8:56 pm

I was out riding today and noticed, along with the conspicuous lack of snow, the significant number of Japanese SUV’s ferrying around Christmas trees. ‘Tis the weekend for at least one holiday purchase, I suppose. And with that image ingrained in your head, here’s decidedly non-Christmas-themed song list for your December enjoyment:

Gamera by Tortoise: The first track of the Lazarus Taxon rarities compilation. As a general principle I have very little tolerance for extended songs, but it’s worth paying attention to every moment of this 12-minute track. Starting with a single acoustic guitar and moving gradually into a driving post-rock crescendo, the song will get me to stop everything I’m doing to listen.

Mr. Tough by Yo La Tengo: This song’s instrumentals recall Moondance-era Van Morrison for me, and represent (I think) a new sound for the band. It’s catchy, groovy, but still has much of the same sound that has defined the band over its 20-year career.

7/4 (Shoreline) by Broken Social Scene: It’s taken a year and a half for me to finally start getting into Broken Social Scene’s second album. But I’ve always liked this song. It’s fast-paced, intensely orchestrated, and has an excellent horns section that ties it all together.

Goodbye by Asobi Seksu: In my humble opinion, I think Asobi Seksu should win a best new band award from someone for their 2006 release. It’s been one of my favorites of the year, to be sure. I threw this particular track on there because it reminded me of the insufferably hot weather of late July and early August

Loser City by Oxford Collapse: I stand by the assertion I made on an indie music mailing list that Oxford Collapse’s latest album exudes the “easy confidence of a three beer buzz.” This song, with lots of guitars and shouting, exemplifies exactly that sound. It’s a great song to have stuck in your head when your biking through traffic in downtown Montpelier.

Leap Year by +/-: I saw these guys open for the Wrens and was blown away—their songs have a great combination of heavy fuzz and chiming guitars that can really emote at times. This song wells up like heartbreak.

Each Coming Night by Iron & Wine: Over the past three years I’ve grown to appreciate the emotional honesty of folk musicians that are beginning to make up a larger portion of American Indie Rock catalogs. Iron & Wine was my first introduction to this sound, and continues to be the a central figure in that indie folk movement. A part of you might cry, just a little, each time you hear this song.

Something by Sam Prekop: Post-rock at its best. I remember hearing this song for the first time on the Murderball soundtrack, and have been looking for the right mix for it. So here it is. I feel hopeful every time I hear this one.

Rainbow by Snowlgobe: Things are starting to get sad now. Snowglobe has an interesting sound that calls up the sad underside of psychedelia, and this song exemplifies what they’re all about.

All the Trees of the Field Will Clap Their Hands by Sufjan Stevens: I was reminded of how good this album was when I was watching Weeds over Thanksgiving and this song closed out one episode. (Speaking of Weeds, I really enjoy the show—not so much because I find the weird suburban pothead culture entertaining, but because the main character is such a real person. The death of her husband, and the emotional loss that makes up a large part of her emotional landscape, really gives a sad texture to the whole show.)

Greycoated Morning by David and the Citizens: This song has been kicking around my song lists since it showed up on one of my podcasts over the summer. It’s one of those great indie pop tunes that sounds happy but probably has some of the saddest lyrics of any song published this year.

Beauty by The Shivers: I’d never heard of The Shivers before downloading this track, which I’d heard about through Pitchfork’s (quite stellar review). Although I, like any other indie rock hipster, do my best to distinguish my music tastes from those of the Pitchfork editorial staff, I have to give them credit when they found a winner. If you’ve ever longed for someone so badly it hurt, this song, with its echoing, solemn guitars and composed yet deathly sad lead singer, will resonate with you, too.

Future Women by The M’s: The track for which the M’s latest foray into guitar-driven glam-pop was named. It was an easy way to close out a track list that was maybe getting just a little bit too serious.

October 18, 2006

Fall Song List ::
music — tagged , , , , , and
8:26 am

October 13, 2006

Jesus Christ made Seattle under protest ::
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11:08 am

By way of the KEXP song of the day podcast comes the song Jesus Christ Made Seattle Under Protest by the Mellors. For anyone who’s spent any time in Seattle, this mnemonic has a special meaning, referring to the 12 East-West roads that lead from the city to the Puget Sound. Starting from the South and moving North, those streets are: Jefferson, James, Cherry, Columbia, Marion, Madison, Spring, Seneca, University, Union, Pike and Pine (Google map, with Jefferson starting just North of Yesler Way). It’s funny, I hadn’t thought of that fun little memory device for quite some time, until I saw the song downloading this morning. I suddenly recalled my many Seattle experiences between December, 2001 and August, 2003, and for a moment there I really longed for that city.

October 12, 2006

The Thermals: The Body, the Blood, the Machine ::
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4:07 pm

There’s a certain point at which I listen to an album enough and it goes from being something I just generically sort of enjoy to something something more distinguished and profound. It’s at that point I realize that I’ve liked this album not because of some catchy hook or some set of impassioned screaming, but because I’m somehow connected to the music they’re playing on a more fundamental level.

This happened today. On their new album The Body, the Blood, the Machine, The Thermals speak to me (or scream at me) in a way that I’ve been wanting a band to for a few years now. Part political commentary, part impassioned (though oblique) love story, the songs never drift too far into one subject or the other, but rather stick right in between the two, both sides pulling against them and adding even more to the tension. The end result is a set of ten songs emblazoned in my mind, which I find myself thinking about—or outright singing—at any given time during the day. (Yeah, you can picture me biking through Montpelier singing “A Pillar of Salt” to myself.)

Part of it, I am sure, is that I’ve been through a set of pretty substantial changes since I bought this album. I picked it up on the day it was released from New World Record, the hipster record store up the street from my parents’ house in Buffalo. I had to harass the clerk to dig the album out of Sub Pop’s box, he had yet to even enter the disc into the store’s database by the time I’d bought it. From there the CD when right into my car’s player, where it’s been ever since. It’s become one of the few albums I’ll listen to straight through, the volume creeping up from medium-loud to close-to-deafening by closing feedback of the last track. All the while I’m listening I’ll think about having graduated from law school (thus losing the structure on which I’d come to depend for the past three years), having taken the bar, having passed the bar, having moved my life up to Montpelier, and generally feeling somewhat confused at how my life could simultaneously have so much direction yet at the same time no direction at all. All of this is happening in a political year, with an increasingly unpopular President focussed on a painfully unpopular and wrong-headed war, with the economy flatlining and building tensions in throughout the Middle East and now in North Korea. Meanwhile all of our elected leaders seem to want to ignore these problems and protect themselves. The outrage at this injustice is palpable. It’s that strange contrast of personal emotion and political awareness that I think first attracted me to this album and has, I now confess, made me fall in love with it.

In any event, I can say in retrospect why I love this album, but it’s impossible for me to predict which bands are going to be a taste-of-the-month and which ones are really going to endure. If I knew what it was about these albums that gives them such staying power, I would probably be much better at selecting music I know I would actually like over the long term, and would likely save a lot of money. But then, if the system were more predictable it wouldn’t be music or art that I was immersing myself in—it would be science or law or something else that would be a lot more boring and much less meaningful.

October 5, 2006

Music reviews: Pointing out the obvious ::
music — tagged , , , and
11:03 am

First, Pitchfork leads its review of the Killers’ new album by noting the band has altered its sound “from the Cure and 1980s UK new wave to Bruce Springsteen and 1970s earnest U.S. classic rock.” Then Daytrotter asks (in its headline no less), “Who Are All These People Saying This Album Sounds Like The Boss?” Does this mean that the two reviews cancel each other out and I don’t have to read either of them?

September 12, 2006

Live music! ::
music — tagged , and
10:46 am

Update: Brian has a review of the show up on his site.

So, in an effort to take my mind off of—or possible revel in—the fact that I’m unemployed and my ability to practice law is still in a state of limbo, I headed out to a triple bill show last night with Josh and Brian at Higher Ground. The lineup consisted of California Folk-Rockers Foreign Born, erstwhile Broken Social Scene member Jason Collett, and headliners Rogue Wave. The show was really interesting, mostly because of the fact that many of the high points came at totally unexpected points in the show.

Rogue Wave’s performance was extraordinary because of how consistent it was with what I imagined it would be. They’re music is always tight and polished, and is a strange crossection between rock, folk and electronic atmospherics produced by keyboards played by both the lead guitarist and drummer. It’s funny, but I always think of their songs as well-engineered software applications. And while their tunes were catchy, definitely, and the band loved what they were playing, there was something, I don’t know, missing from the show. And it was the same thing missing from their music on the record. So while I could always think to myself, yeah, this music is definitely good, I couldn’t let myself just fall in love with it.

Contrast that With Jason Collet’s set. At one point Jason Collett noted how much he liked Vermont, and someone mentioned that he should stay an extra day to take a walk down to Lake Champlain (one of his favorite things to do in Burlington, apparently). When Collett said that he was sorry but he had to head down to Massachusetts, someone in the crowd yelled “Hey, New Hampshire Liquor Store is on the way, yeah!” And without missing a beat, Collett said, “thanks for the tip!” The band then launched into the upbeat acoustic number “I’ll Bring the Sun.” And that was just one interaction with the audience. The set was punctuated by a number of these incidents, which I found to be so disarming and infectous, and made the music that much more enjoyable. Comparing Rogue Wave with Jason Collett, it made me realize how the deciding factor of what makes a good show—at least for me—often has almost nothing to do with the music and everything to do with the performers.

Foreign Born started out the night, and they were a lot of fun—like I mentioned, a definite California folk-rock group, complete with the frontman playing a plugged-in acoustic guitar that, except for the pick-ups looked like it could have come from Woody Guthrie’s collection. The band played well and got into their music. At one point they played a song that they asserted that had written just the other day in Canada. Since I’m not familiar with their ouvre, there was no way for me to verify this, so I had to take them at their word. But overall it was a fun set, a nice surprise, and a great way to start of the evening.

August 4, 2006

Pitchfork, the full treatment ::
travel, personal, photos, music — No Tags
10:19 am

So I suppose this post is coming overdue, but since it’s been less than a full week since I went to the Pitchfork Music Festival writing up my lingering thoughts on the event would not be entirely untimely. That said, I should say that, the more I think about it, the more I think that the Festival was one of the best music experiences I’ve ever had. I felt a strange connection to the music, the particular bands playing there, and even the other people attending the performance. I’d never had that before in the musical context—I suppose that means that I’ve found my people, and possibly that I’ve found myself since the last time I tried going to one of these rigorous, multi-day events.

What specifically about the experience made me come to this conclusion? Well, the temperature both days was unbearably hot and humid, the festival took place on an open field in the middle of the city, and the crowds were enormous. But despite all that, I never once thought about going home early. And now that it’s all over, I find myself already starting to plan for next year’s festival (will there be one, I do not know).

With all that, I decided that I didn’t want this post to be a review so much as a description of what I saw there that was worth remembering. Much of the work I put into this site has been an effort to hang on to my ever-fading memories, so I figure that such a memory-driven post would be more consistent with the overall function of this site than a straight-up review would be. And with that, I’m going to take a page from Jeremy’s book of philosophy, and make this into a list of accomplishments.

That said, my musical highlights included: coming off the Red Line at Ashland to hear Band of Horses playing, their now-familiar guitar riffs echoing off the nearby buildings; seeing The Mountain Goats play, and especially hearing John Darnielle sing the quite apropos—the festival being in Chicago and all—“Cubs In Five” (And the Chicago Cubs/Will beat every team in the league/and the Tampa Bay Bucs/will make it all the way to January/And I will love you again/I will love you/Like I used to…); Seeing Destroyer play his songs live (this was particularly cool for me, because his latest, Rubies, was coming off a little flat for me in the past few months, even though I knew it was a good album); seeing Ted Leo live for like the fourth time; Seeing the Silver Jews tear it up during their first tour ever; seeing Tapes ‘n Tapes live (did I mention I started their Wikipedia entry?); seeing The National play live for the first time (their music, and particularly Alligator, has been a mainstay in my musical rotation over the past three months, and has been a soundtrack for me as I’ve sorted through my current life-in-transition); and of course, seeing Mission of Burma—that just speaks for itself.

The non-music memories for me included: riding the El from Andersonville to Union Square park, watching the train fill up with young, sunburned hipsters with Pitchfork Festival programs under their arms; showing up at the park and seeing multiple levels of bikes chained to the fence; watching storm clouds build up around us and then dissipate; looking at everyone’s shoes; watching people in the crowd interact with each other; photographing photographers; hanging out at the record sale, talking with people from Sub Pop, Touch and Go, and Southern Records; photographing people sleeping (is that rude?); and of course, hanging out at Flatstock.

July 31, 2006

More on Pitchfork ::
travel, personal, photos, music — No Tags
12:01 pm

Well, that was a blast. In two days at the Pitchfork Music Festival I think I’ve just about made up for all the live music I missed since I started law school in 2003. It was an overwhelming experience, but for the first time in my life I went to a music two-day music festival in unbearably hot temperatures and didn’t walk away from the experience feeling sick and exhausted. Instead, I was completely psyched about the whole experience. Not sure what’s different this time around—probably it’s some combination of enjoying this music culture, being in better shape, and having a better understanding of how to take care of myself in hot weather (e.g., beer does not count as hydration).

In any event, I made it to Milwaukee this morning after dealing with Chicago construction and rush hour traffic. (After four years in Vermont, I forget to take such things into account when travelling.) I’m on a timed wireless connection—only have an hour—so I’m not going to go too into depth about the whole Pitchfork festival now. But I plan to write something up in the next couple of days. In the meantime, go check out my Pitchfork Music Festival Flickr set.

June 10, 2006

Rainy day songs ::
music — tagged , , and
4:09 pm

Bleah. Some days just never get off the ground. If you know what I mean, let me recommend a soundtrack:

June 6, 2006

More new music: The Little Ones ::
music, vermont — No Tags
2:33 pm

Here in Vermont we’re having a few days of warm temperatures and light wind before we get back to what is becoming the all-too-common days of torrential rain. I’ve grown accustomed to this Pacific Northwest-like weather over the past few weeks, and, like citizens of Seattle and Portland have been doing for years, I now deeply appreciate any chance I get to go outside and not be wet, cold, and shivering. Today is just one of those days of respite, and I’m trying to enjoy it as much as I can, considering that I have a bar exam to study for.

Music by The Little Ones provides a perfect soundtrack to a day like this. This morning I found, by way of the KEXP Song of the Day podcast (iTunes link), the song Lovers Who Uncover (mp3). I now cannot recommend it to you enough. It’s upbeat and dense sound, with two guitar lines, each playing simple chord progressions, floating over a fast-paced drum beat. And they come together to produce a sound that is both tense and in-the-moment. When I hear the song, I can’t sit still, I need to go out walking and appreciate the day. Nothing makes me happier than that today.

But what can you compare them to? Imagine, if you will, the child produced by a love triangle involving Built to Spill, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and The Shins. Here you have the next generation of a sound that I can only hope continues to evolve.

June 1, 2006

Calvin Johnson plus guest singer ::
personal, photos, music — No Tags
6:58 pm

Calvin Johnson plus guest singer
Originally uploaded by gjs.

This is what happens when I study for the bar: I review old photos and put them up on Flickr. This one is from a Calvin Johnson/Microphones show I saw with Jeremy back in August, 2001.

And lest you think this is the only trip down memory lane on this site between now and the time I take the bar at the end of July, don’t worry—I have lots of archives to go through.

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