I was not the first person to have this idea apparently.
Friday, March 13, 2015
Thursday, March 5, 2015
Track 21
When the smaller picture is the same as the bigger picture you know that you're fucked.
For so long the only picture I had was to finish graduate school. I had no plans beyond. I had hopes, dreams. For eight years, it was like trying to run through a race through treacle. There were constant questions. Should I try harder? Should I put in more time? Should I put in less time? Should I put less pressure on myself? The answers seemed irrelevant, as it seemed like my expectation of graduation had nothing to do with the quality or quantity of the amount of work I put in. Grad school seems like a presidential election. The election seems to solely hinge on how the economy has performed in the recent past. While pundits and academics sit around study, argue, and debate how much an administration's policy is to credit/blame, no one really knows. It's Mike's area of study and he was very interested in cases where there is a direct correlation, it's much harder to know if our government does anything at all, or whether the US economy is just the engine that has to keep running. The US is the bank that to big to fail among sovereign nations. If I'm the president and my degree is the economy, am I doing anything that brings me any closer to achieving, or am I just on treadmill? Do things just randomly happen that bring me closer (or farther away) from achieving that goal? Is it something that I really want? Is it something that is worth it? Is it something that you wanted? I don't really need to relate these insecurities to you. I'm sure you lived them. I'm sure you know them all. But I can't help but wish there was a concrete answer to any of them at some point.
When you're trading paper cuts for splinters you're out of luck.
What the alternative? If I jump off now, where do I stand? I don't see the happy alternative so I'll just stick with what I've got. "The devil you know..." Isn't that what they say. I wish I could be better friends with the people around me, but I feel like I don't fit in. I feel like an outsider. You make me feel accepted. Some old friends make me feel accepted. But, too often I let my own insecurities of not fitting in get in the way. I've felt that way my whole life, almost. You'd think I'd be used it by now, but I'm not. I can't really replace the people, so if I want to be happy, I should learn how to be happy with what we've got.
Like sharks don't sleep, and I don't take my eyes off you.
For so long the only picture I had was to finish graduate school. I had no plans beyond. I had hopes, dreams. For eight years, it was like trying to run through a race through treacle. There were constant questions. Should I try harder? Should I put in more time? Should I put in less time? Should I put less pressure on myself? The answers seemed irrelevant, as it seemed like my expectation of graduation had nothing to do with the quality or quantity of the amount of work I put in. Grad school seems like a presidential election. The election seems to solely hinge on how the economy has performed in the recent past. While pundits and academics sit around study, argue, and debate how much an administration's policy is to credit/blame, no one really knows. It's Mike's area of study and he was very interested in cases where there is a direct correlation, it's much harder to know if our government does anything at all, or whether the US economy is just the engine that has to keep running. The US is the bank that to big to fail among sovereign nations. If I'm the president and my degree is the economy, am I doing anything that brings me any closer to achieving, or am I just on treadmill? Do things just randomly happen that bring me closer (or farther away) from achieving that goal? Is it something that I really want? Is it something that is worth it? Is it something that you wanted? I don't really need to relate these insecurities to you. I'm sure you lived them. I'm sure you know them all. But I can't help but wish there was a concrete answer to any of them at some point.
When you're trading paper cuts for splinters you're out of luck.
What the alternative? If I jump off now, where do I stand? I don't see the happy alternative so I'll just stick with what I've got. "The devil you know..." Isn't that what they say. I wish I could be better friends with the people around me, but I feel like I don't fit in. I feel like an outsider. You make me feel accepted. Some old friends make me feel accepted. But, too often I let my own insecurities of not fitting in get in the way. I've felt that way my whole life, almost. You'd think I'd be used it by now, but I'm not. I can't really replace the people, so if I want to be happy, I should learn how to be happy with what we've got.
Like sharks don't sleep, and I don't take my eyes off you.
If I've ever taken my eyes off you, it's because I wanted to graduate. Then we'd finally be free. I remember trying to solder a circuit board in the lab with only one good hand, because I was still regaining use of my left hand. What was I even doing? I could solder better one handed than most of the undergrads we might have gotten to help, but why was that even important at the time? You never slept, but did you see any of this? At the time, I was just happy that use of my hand was coming back. But slowly, but surely, this just gave way to despair as that didn't seem to make any difference. And I was just angry at anyone that told me this was a setback, it would take time. I didn't have time. I had seen some of your friends graduate quickly and move on. I was supposed to do that, to catch up to you, so that we could move on together. It must have been really hard to see some of your friends get done so quickly. I know I didn't handle it well when my friends finished before me. Hell, I didn't couldn't even find it in my to be so happy when you got done. My friends/peers became your friends more than mine, though. So that might have helped. But it probably just made things worse when they started to move on too. I couldn't even deal with it happening once, but you had to deal with it twice.
That's the cruel joke that is graduate school. If you want to want to stay healthy and balanced about it, you can't let it define who you are, because you're going to fail a lot more than you succeed. And yet here's this thing that says, "You're going to put in years and years of work, and it the end, it may be fore something, or it might not." How does that not take over your life? How does that not come to define who you are when the prevailing feeling is that if you don't give yourself over 100%, then it's all the more likely it will amount to nothing?
The architecture's shit and my cheeks are all ruddy and bruised.
In the winter it's always cold and it's always so fucking windy. Sometimes, I be in before light and come out before dark. Coming out of the cold the your beautiful cheeks were always ruddy. And in the summer, try as you might you could never stay on your bike. While your, cheeks might not be bruised, but your knees certainly were. You bruised so easily, so delicate.
And it hits as hard as a blow to the head or a smash to the skull or a knee to your chest.
I fell off my bike twice as I can remember. Once, riding my bike back home the dark, failing to find footing as I stopped at a stop sign. I fell into the bushes off the side of the road. An ambulance stopped to see if I was OK. Nothing was hurt (but my pride). That was my only attempt to ride McCormick in the dark. From then on, I stayed on the better lit 52. I wonder, if I had suffered a blow to the head time, would the ambulance have taken me to the hospital? Would I have gotten a CAT scan? Would the cancer have been picked up 3 years earlier? Even if it had, I would have still had to go through the surgery, but still... You know, a lot of people try to tell me the seizure was a blessing, because that's how they found the tumor. Which is a bunch of bullshit. Seizures are what happens when cancer decides to say, I'm going to try to kill you now. There's nothing special or unusual about it. It's just what happens. You do hear a story every other year or so about an NFL player who discovers a brain tumor as part of physical they took when signing with a team. I guess with concussions, they want to check out the noggin'. That's the kind of freak occurrence where it seems like something special has happened. Even I had hit my noggin' falling of my bike, I was wearing a helmet. Bike helmets are overrated.
The other time was coming home in the late afternoon summer along McCormick, I had some nice road burn on my knee and forearm. That time I learned not ride so close that edge of the road that I might go off and have my tire taken out by the ruts next to the road.
Sweet dreams, sweet cheeks. Oh tomorrow. Oh tomorrow. Oh tomorrow.
Sometimes I imagine the singer saying "Sweet Cheeks" in that sort of old timey '40s or '50s manner that's sort of misogynistic. You know the way private detective might talk to woman in film noir movie or something. Sometimes I think about the sweet dreams. I often have sweet dreams about you. I always wondered why your dreams were so bad. I always thought that was something I could fix by sleeping next you. You know, scare away your bad dreams. But I never could.
All these mercy killings have got my conscience spilling over.
(We've paid off the judges and we're taking advantage.)
I probably don't need to tell you how into music I was (or am I guess). I always have too many songs on want to put on these mix CDs. So, partly because I was stuck on my thesis work until almost April and partly because the excess of songs always causes me to start on the next CD immediately after finishing the last, I actually had a most of mix CD I was going to have ready to go for our trip to Alaska ready to go. It was/is (I still have it ready to go) going to be very heavy on singable songs by female artists and songs from the nineties/early aughts semi-ironically included. It's been sitting on my computer to make a CD for over a year now.
And the buildings ornate but it's lacking in soul and character.
(Pleading our defense in binary a smiley apology montage.)
But anyway, my semi-obsession to be constantly in the know about the best new bands coming out had not been extinguished by grad school. Well, the biggest thing cut down on my desire to go out and buy something from an unknown new bad at the local record store was probably when I started listening to podcasts. When I discovered Mr. Tony randomly on iTunes, I all of a sudden had found something to listen to that made me smile and kind of forget about drudgery of things that soldering circuits or aligning optics in the lab could be. I hadn't been aware that he had a show previously, but it was just starting up again because Mr. Tony had stopped doing Monday night football and, it being newly available as a podcast, showed up in iTunes top ten. I thought, hmmm... I'll give it a listen as a lark. I kept up with PTI mostly through podcast at the time anyway. It was really funny and I haven't stopped listening. Of course this was the era of the same day podcast and Junior. (Those were the days.) Of course, sometimes, when I'd kind of get lost in my own head, (which I do far to often. Sometimes I just think I should say everything I think out loud so people understand how I get from point A to point B. Of course, at the same time I enjoy cultivating an air of mystery about myself. Probably too much so.) I'd burst out laughing for seemingly no reason, but I was reliving something that had been on the podcast in my head. (Like the time Nigel had to censor McManus because she said "circlejerk". Really, just a seminal moment because every was so shocked they had to drop Jeanne's audio. The best Mr. Tony moment ever, I think is the time he was trying to read an e-mail that started to make him laugh so hard, he couldn't finish, so he handed to David Aldridge to read and he couldn't get through it either. I wish I could remember the episode, or what the e-mail was about, but it's been awhile.) You got so fed up with me for laughing at Mr. Tony stuff that you started listening to it, so you could understand what I was talking about. I should have known that you would enjoy listening to a crotchety old man every day. I feel responsible for not get you in on Mr. Tony at the ground floor. You missed about a year I think.
We're burning five story buildings laying man traps at the fire exits.
(Like dignity is equal to desperation and self effacement.)
I'm trying to tell a story, but I just can't seem to get through it because my mind gets so scattered and goes off on tangents, so that sometimes I can never quite get back to the original point I was trying to make. This is my greatest weakness as I writer I think. I have to many ideas that come out unformed, and I have trouble reorganizing it into something readable. ANYWAY, I remember enjoying eating at Boiler Market the first couple o' years, because it was Von's was right across the street. Even though Von's was only a marginal record store (no Ear X-Tacy for sure) going to Von's for an impulse music would could kindle fond memories of days when I listened to more music than I could rightfully keep up with and went to shows as often as I could, hopefully with a good friend or two. We always said that Purdue that, Indy wasn't so far away. Chicago was far but manageable. Going to an awesome Six show or two shouldn't be too hard. But time went on. Things changed I guess. Most weekends, all I could think to want to do was relax. But before I stopped going to shows, before I started listening to podcasts, before WOXY went under for the final time, I would put it on the lab (as I was really the only person to work down in that dungeon. Oddly happier times.) It was on WOXY that I first heard the shambolic Los Campesinos!. The last band I formed an attachment to in an adolescent, starry-eyed, "Wow! I need to buy their stuff the day it comes out and go to their shows!" kind of way. The song was "You! Me! Dancing!", which I hope you are familiar with.
Playing feedback over tannoy systems. You look Desperate! You Look Pathetic!
(We're holding on to our own grandeur with careful compliment placement.)
Another reason I've listened to music far less than I used is because of how I drive. Most of the music I fell in love with, I fell in with on long drives. Drives to Cincinnati. Drives to Louisville. Drives through the wastlands of Texas. Drives to West Lafayette because you graduated ahead of me. Drives to go see Mike in Columbus. Drives to see a band just about anywhere in Columbus, Indy, Louisville triangle. Just a lot of long distance that left a lot of time for listening and thinking about why or why not I like the CD I had just put on. (Which is why the CD length album format means so much to me. My CD binder was in alphabetical order so I could find the next CD I wanted to listen to on these drives with out having to flip around looking for it.) I fell in love with music while driving. But a couple of years after coming to Purdue, my car stopped be usable for long distances because of the the fact that bearings in the transmission needed replacing because I hadn't replaced the differential lubricant when replacing the CV joint, as you may recall. The last long distance trip I dared take on my own in the Saturn was to go to Louisville on a a weekday in the summer of 2008 and formally ask your parents for permission to ask for your hand in marriage. Rufus said it was unnecessary, but I said it was important to you. I so got in my car and turned the music up load to drown out the sound of the grinding sound coming from "gearbox" as they would say in Britain. It was 360 miles there and back and I think I sang along nervously more than usually, nervous to be around your parents on my own and nervous that my car would break down, but I couldn't very well ask to borrow yours for the day. I remember you calling me at some point (I had finally gotten a cell phone) to ask if I wanted to have lunch with you and Kari in the quad. I vaguely said that I was busy that day, but I'm pretty sure that once I proposed, you remembered calling me that time and putting together that I wasn't available for lunch that day. Anyway, from that day forward, my car was unfit to drive long distance. Most of my long driving trips were with you from that point on anyway so it wasn't just me and my music to keep me company on long drives. But you didn't replace my music. You were my music.
One blink for yes, two blinks for no.
Anyway, Los Campesinos! was sort of a connection to a bygone era. The last album I bought and listened to ad nauseum in my car before I started podcasting and before I started biking around town more than I drove. The last band I kind of kept tabs on to see if they were playing a show anywhere close. The fact that they used strings a lot and oft performed with musicians in the double digits (but not quite Polyphonic Spree numbers) made them seem like a Welsh guttersnipe version of Arcade Fire. But their music didn't make me sad to be a human being the way Arcade Fire's second album did. But being British/Welsh, it didn't take long for their songs to turn more dismal in the future.
They played Ohio State's campus in 2009. I took trip out to see Mike and the show. My car no longer being driveable, I borrowed yours, fiancée, to make one last solo road trip across the Ohio wasteland. It was sort of a "get the band together one last time moment" although I didn't know it at the time. The show was pretty good. Mike seemed unreasonable excited about the opening act Titus Andronicus who seemed like a loud angry noisy punk band to me. But maybe it was place Mike was in. Mike wasn't really in a good way. He only graduated one year earlier than I had, but that extra year of grad school can make all the difference in your will to live. It didn't help that he didn't get to live close to his fiancée the way I had, although I'm not sure they were engaged yet. He compensated by drinking a lot. I know I always say I shouldn't drink, because I'm a sad drunk. But, I actually have fun drinking when I'm relaxed and around friends. But I'm a sad drunk when I'm anxious. The anxiety changes into detached isolation and sadness. Weird, as most people drink to reduce anxiety. Towards the end of grad school the anxiety took over way too much and I failed to manage it very well. I'd love to go out and get a beer with you right now. But anyway, the show was pretty good, I had fun with Mike, but in retrospect I feel like there should have been a "Get out while you can" sign somewhere. It's really the last show I ever went to. The one I stumbled into in Madison barely counts. Listening to the song I wonder, "Good god, did I officially get old after that?" Definitely, things were to come that weren't entirely under my control that made it hard to stay "young". For whatever reason, in the future, I became more concerned with Welsh soccer teams instead of Welsh music. But this isn't the first existential crisis I've come across since grad school started. Regardless of whether I have cancer or not, whether this is middle of my life mathematically or not, I shouldn't be going through what feels suspiciously like a mid-life crisis right now.
I thought I knew what lied ahead for me. I don't anymore, if I'm honest. The only way I get by sometimes is to hang onto optimism in the face of ridiculousness. This involves (maybe to your chagrin) a hope that my future is still with you somehow. To defy the stupid lyrics that end the stupid song I picked. I would put sad or breakup songs on these mixes because I thought they were still good songs, beautiful in their way. It wasn't anything deeper than that. Some naive idea that to have loved and lost... Honestly, since sometimes I don't listen to lyrics very closely, I'll hear one line out of context and focus on that and turn it into love song. In this case it was, "Like sharks don't sleep and I can't take my eyes off you." That's what I hold onto.
Sweet dreams, sweet cheeks, we leave alone.
And it hits as hard as a blow to the head or a smash to the skull or a knee to your chest.
I fell off my bike twice as I can remember. Once, riding my bike back home the dark, failing to find footing as I stopped at a stop sign. I fell into the bushes off the side of the road. An ambulance stopped to see if I was OK. Nothing was hurt (but my pride). That was my only attempt to ride McCormick in the dark. From then on, I stayed on the better lit 52. I wonder, if I had suffered a blow to the head time, would the ambulance have taken me to the hospital? Would I have gotten a CAT scan? Would the cancer have been picked up 3 years earlier? Even if it had, I would have still had to go through the surgery, but still... You know, a lot of people try to tell me the seizure was a blessing, because that's how they found the tumor. Which is a bunch of bullshit. Seizures are what happens when cancer decides to say, I'm going to try to kill you now. There's nothing special or unusual about it. It's just what happens. You do hear a story every other year or so about an NFL player who discovers a brain tumor as part of physical they took when signing with a team. I guess with concussions, they want to check out the noggin'. That's the kind of freak occurrence where it seems like something special has happened. Even I had hit my noggin' falling of my bike, I was wearing a helmet. Bike helmets are overrated.
The other time was coming home in the late afternoon summer along McCormick, I had some nice road burn on my knee and forearm. That time I learned not ride so close that edge of the road that I might go off and have my tire taken out by the ruts next to the road.
Sweet dreams, sweet cheeks. Oh tomorrow. Oh tomorrow. Oh tomorrow.
Sometimes I imagine the singer saying "Sweet Cheeks" in that sort of old timey '40s or '50s manner that's sort of misogynistic. You know the way private detective might talk to woman in film noir movie or something. Sometimes I think about the sweet dreams. I often have sweet dreams about you. I always wondered why your dreams were so bad. I always thought that was something I could fix by sleeping next you. You know, scare away your bad dreams. But I never could.
All these mercy killings have got my conscience spilling over.
(We've paid off the judges and we're taking advantage.)
I probably don't need to tell you how into music I was (or am I guess). I always have too many songs on want to put on these mix CDs. So, partly because I was stuck on my thesis work until almost April and partly because the excess of songs always causes me to start on the next CD immediately after finishing the last, I actually had a most of mix CD I was going to have ready to go for our trip to Alaska ready to go. It was/is (I still have it ready to go) going to be very heavy on singable songs by female artists and songs from the nineties/early aughts semi-ironically included. It's been sitting on my computer to make a CD for over a year now.
And the buildings ornate but it's lacking in soul and character.
(Pleading our defense in binary a smiley apology montage.)
But anyway, my semi-obsession to be constantly in the know about the best new bands coming out had not been extinguished by grad school. Well, the biggest thing cut down on my desire to go out and buy something from an unknown new bad at the local record store was probably when I started listening to podcasts. When I discovered Mr. Tony randomly on iTunes, I all of a sudden had found something to listen to that made me smile and kind of forget about drudgery of things that soldering circuits or aligning optics in the lab could be. I hadn't been aware that he had a show previously, but it was just starting up again because Mr. Tony had stopped doing Monday night football and, it being newly available as a podcast, showed up in iTunes top ten. I thought, hmmm... I'll give it a listen as a lark. I kept up with PTI mostly through podcast at the time anyway. It was really funny and I haven't stopped listening. Of course this was the era of the same day podcast and Junior. (Those were the days.) Of course, sometimes, when I'd kind of get lost in my own head, (which I do far to often. Sometimes I just think I should say everything I think out loud so people understand how I get from point A to point B. Of course, at the same time I enjoy cultivating an air of mystery about myself. Probably too much so.) I'd burst out laughing for seemingly no reason, but I was reliving something that had been on the podcast in my head. (Like the time Nigel had to censor McManus because she said "circlejerk". Really, just a seminal moment because every was so shocked they had to drop Jeanne's audio. The best Mr. Tony moment ever, I think is the time he was trying to read an e-mail that started to make him laugh so hard, he couldn't finish, so he handed to David Aldridge to read and he couldn't get through it either. I wish I could remember the episode, or what the e-mail was about, but it's been awhile.) You got so fed up with me for laughing at Mr. Tony stuff that you started listening to it, so you could understand what I was talking about. I should have known that you would enjoy listening to a crotchety old man every day. I feel responsible for not get you in on Mr. Tony at the ground floor. You missed about a year I think.
We're burning five story buildings laying man traps at the fire exits.
(Like dignity is equal to desperation and self effacement.)
I'm trying to tell a story, but I just can't seem to get through it because my mind gets so scattered and goes off on tangents, so that sometimes I can never quite get back to the original point I was trying to make. This is my greatest weakness as I writer I think. I have to many ideas that come out unformed, and I have trouble reorganizing it into something readable. ANYWAY, I remember enjoying eating at Boiler Market the first couple o' years, because it was Von's was right across the street. Even though Von's was only a marginal record store (no Ear X-Tacy for sure) going to Von's for an impulse music would could kindle fond memories of days when I listened to more music than I could rightfully keep up with and went to shows as often as I could, hopefully with a good friend or two. We always said that Purdue that, Indy wasn't so far away. Chicago was far but manageable. Going to an awesome Six show or two shouldn't be too hard. But time went on. Things changed I guess. Most weekends, all I could think to want to do was relax. But before I stopped going to shows, before I started listening to podcasts, before WOXY went under for the final time, I would put it on the lab (as I was really the only person to work down in that dungeon. Oddly happier times.) It was on WOXY that I first heard the shambolic Los Campesinos!. The last band I formed an attachment to in an adolescent, starry-eyed, "Wow! I need to buy their stuff the day it comes out and go to their shows!" kind of way. The song was "You! Me! Dancing!", which I hope you are familiar with.
Playing feedback over tannoy systems. You look Desperate! You Look Pathetic!
(We're holding on to our own grandeur with careful compliment placement.)
Another reason I've listened to music far less than I used is because of how I drive. Most of the music I fell in love with, I fell in with on long drives. Drives to Cincinnati. Drives to Louisville. Drives through the wastlands of Texas. Drives to West Lafayette because you graduated ahead of me. Drives to go see Mike in Columbus. Drives to see a band just about anywhere in Columbus, Indy, Louisville triangle. Just a lot of long distance that left a lot of time for listening and thinking about why or why not I like the CD I had just put on. (Which is why the CD length album format means so much to me. My CD binder was in alphabetical order so I could find the next CD I wanted to listen to on these drives with out having to flip around looking for it.) I fell in love with music while driving. But a couple of years after coming to Purdue, my car stopped be usable for long distances because of the the fact that bearings in the transmission needed replacing because I hadn't replaced the differential lubricant when replacing the CV joint, as you may recall. The last long distance trip I dared take on my own in the Saturn was to go to Louisville on a a weekday in the summer of 2008 and formally ask your parents for permission to ask for your hand in marriage. Rufus said it was unnecessary, but I said it was important to you. I so got in my car and turned the music up load to drown out the sound of the grinding sound coming from "gearbox" as they would say in Britain. It was 360 miles there and back and I think I sang along nervously more than usually, nervous to be around your parents on my own and nervous that my car would break down, but I couldn't very well ask to borrow yours for the day. I remember you calling me at some point (I had finally gotten a cell phone) to ask if I wanted to have lunch with you and Kari in the quad. I vaguely said that I was busy that day, but I'm pretty sure that once I proposed, you remembered calling me that time and putting together that I wasn't available for lunch that day. Anyway, from that day forward, my car was unfit to drive long distance. Most of my long driving trips were with you from that point on anyway so it wasn't just me and my music to keep me company on long drives. But you didn't replace my music. You were my music.
One blink for yes, two blinks for no.
They played Ohio State's campus in 2009. I took trip out to see Mike and the show. My car no longer being driveable, I borrowed yours, fiancée, to make one last solo road trip across the Ohio wasteland. It was sort of a "get the band together one last time moment" although I didn't know it at the time. The show was pretty good. Mike seemed unreasonable excited about the opening act Titus Andronicus who seemed like a loud angry noisy punk band to me. But maybe it was place Mike was in. Mike wasn't really in a good way. He only graduated one year earlier than I had, but that extra year of grad school can make all the difference in your will to live. It didn't help that he didn't get to live close to his fiancée the way I had, although I'm not sure they were engaged yet. He compensated by drinking a lot. I know I always say I shouldn't drink, because I'm a sad drunk. But, I actually have fun drinking when I'm relaxed and around friends. But I'm a sad drunk when I'm anxious. The anxiety changes into detached isolation and sadness. Weird, as most people drink to reduce anxiety. Towards the end of grad school the anxiety took over way too much and I failed to manage it very well. I'd love to go out and get a beer with you right now. But anyway, the show was pretty good, I had fun with Mike, but in retrospect I feel like there should have been a "Get out while you can" sign somewhere. It's really the last show I ever went to. The one I stumbled into in Madison barely counts. Listening to the song I wonder, "Good god, did I officially get old after that?" Definitely, things were to come that weren't entirely under my control that made it hard to stay "young". For whatever reason, in the future, I became more concerned with Welsh soccer teams instead of Welsh music. But this isn't the first existential crisis I've come across since grad school started. Regardless of whether I have cancer or not, whether this is middle of my life mathematically or not, I shouldn't be going through what feels suspiciously like a mid-life crisis right now.
I thought I knew what lied ahead for me. I don't anymore, if I'm honest. The only way I get by sometimes is to hang onto optimism in the face of ridiculousness. This involves (maybe to your chagrin) a hope that my future is still with you somehow. To defy the stupid lyrics that end the stupid song I picked. I would put sad or breakup songs on these mixes because I thought they were still good songs, beautiful in their way. It wasn't anything deeper than that. Some naive idea that to have loved and lost... Honestly, since sometimes I don't listen to lyrics very closely, I'll hear one line out of context and focus on that and turn it into love song. In this case it was, "Like sharks don't sleep and I can't take my eyes off you." That's what I hold onto.
Sweet dreams, sweet cheeks, we leave alone.
Tuesday, March 3, 2015
Track 20
and it's lesser known sequel...
It makes sense why you wouldn't like Prince and think I'm ridiculous. (Be sure and watch the PTI video... Classic Mr. Tony.)
Also...
But it could be worse...
Prince brings joy to so many people (except for record label executives). Just remember, when the elevator tries to bring you down, GO CRAZY!
Track 19
I just like this music. I used to be able to find the video on YouTube, but it's been blocked.
Bring up Season 2 Episode 1 of Mad Men and skip to exactly 18 minutes.
It's even a Valentine's Day scene. I've heard it in other places, but this is the version I included.
It kind of feels like Mad Men is a bit forgotten in the TV landscape these days. Sometimes I feel like going back and watching the early episodes...
Bring up Season 2 Episode 1 of Mad Men and skip to exactly 18 minutes.
It's even a Valentine's Day scene. I've heard it in other places, but this is the version I included.
It kind of feels like Mad Men is a bit forgotten in the TV landscape these days. Sometimes I feel like going back and watching the early episodes...
Track 18
Great Moments in Spoken Word Pop Music
Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah
(popularized with a bit more melody by Jeff Buckley)
Moody Blues - Nights in White Satin
(skip to about minute 6 for instant awesome)
Pulp - F.E.E.L.I.N.G.C.A.L.L.E.D.L.O.V.E.
(sexy time - kind of wish there was a video, but it would certainly be NSFW)
Electric Six - Broken Machine
(This is what I get for surrounding myself with technology.)
Dick Valentine is king of the spoken work interlude, but "Broken Machine" is the apex of his prowess.
The White Stripes - The Union Forever
Weird Al - Albuquerque
(I think this is really funny.)
Leonard Nemoy - Ballad of Bilbo Baggins
(I guess he kind of sings? - R.I.P. Spock)
William Shatner - Everything
(His entire life is a spoken word pop song.)
(More Pulp!)
Jimmy Dean - Big Bad John
(I prefer this ridiculous political ad as featured on the Daily Show.)
C.W. McCall - Convoy
(What's funnier, the original or The Simpsons?)
Lou Reed - Take a Walk on the Wild Side
Saul Williams - List of Demands
(Sure, I could list about any rap song, but I've gone way of the rails by now. And there is a legit spoken interlude.)
Das Racist - Combination Pizza Hut & Taco Bell
(Really, the zenith of what the genre is capable of.)
Monday, March 2, 2015
Track 17
Part 3 of 3
Three songs called Blue Jeans!
Three!
THREE!
THREEEEEEEEEEEE!
3!
YAHTZEE! It's a record.
Regarding the actual song...
Does it make you think about coffee?
You fail at advertising Nespresso!
The eternal question remains: is Lana Del Rey talented?
(Can you hear that insane cackle when Kristin Wiig first comes out as Lana Del Rey? Someone's a little too excited.)
(I know you remember those movies we watched with Kris Carlson. Never got to the last one though.)
Anyway, I think Lana Del Rey is good, if not a little inconsistent. Maybe something like Taquan Dean, and who didn't like Taquan Dean?
Three songs called Blue Jeans!
Three!
THREE!
THREEEEEEEEEEEE!
3!
YAHTZEE! It's a record.
Regarding the actual song...
Does it make you think about coffee?
You fail at advertising Nespresso!
The eternal question remains: is Lana Del Rey talented?
(Can you hear that insane cackle when Kristin Wiig first comes out as Lana Del Rey? Someone's a little too excited.)
I actually was captivated by her on SNL. I had never heard her before and even if wasn't well performed, it was something different. It was clear there was something there. It was enough to get me to pick up her album at the library. Now it's not great. The songs are sometimes a little thin on ideas, but the production is all atmosphere that is both lush and has an air of desolation. Sometime it sounds like an appropriate soundtrack for a Sergio Leone spaghetti western.
(I know you remember those movies we watched with Kris Carlson. Never got to the last one though.)
Anyway, I think Lana Del Rey is good, if not a little inconsistent. Maybe something like Taquan Dean, and who didn't like Taquan Dean?
Besides, at some point I get tired of trying to figure if something measures up, nitpicking it to make sure I've analyzed it critically and my opinion is valid. Sometimes I'd just like to go with my gut reaction. Congratulations Lana Del Rey, my gut reaction is to like you! If Jon Snow can find himself taken in my an attractive redheaded siren, why can't I?
By the way, you remember how Keeping Up With the Kardashians usually came on before an episode of The Soup, because E! would rerun the shit out of that show. Well, I distinctly remember seeing a "Next Week On..." teaser for Kardashians where Kim says, "We're a ride-or-die family..." completely unironically. (Sometimes I wonder if Kim Kardashian is an ironic piece of performance art that ended up surpassing Andy Kaufman's wildest dreams...) Anyway, I was going to try to find that clip to work into this piece and quickly realized that that was an avenue of the internet I'd rather not turn down...
Track 16
"Did he just say Blur was the best Britpop band?"
"I believe he did."
"Well, he's wrong."
"You try telling him that, he seems very opinionated."
"What did he write on the twitter last time?"
"I think it was something like this."
"Hmm... well he likes Blur."
"I think he does."
"But it's obvious that he should like Pulp more."
"Why is that?"
"On general principle."
"What principle?"
"What's more British? Popular rock stars living a lavish life of excess, or railing against the injustices inherent in a classist society, while simultaneously acknowledging the crippling depression the extends from knowledge that they are powerless against it."
"You said British right?"
"Yep."
"I'll go with the depressing one."
"I know, right?"
"Maybe he doesn't like depressing songs."
"I don't think that's the case."
"Jeez, and I thought I had problems."
"How long did it take you to get through grad school?"
"I didn't go to grad school."
"Clever boy."
"Still, Pulp is better."
"Because they can write sad songs that sound happy?"
"It's a special skill."
"When was he born?"
"1983."
"When did Pulp first album come out?"
"According to Wikipedia... 1983."
"So you think he should have fallen in love with a band while in the womb instead of when he was a teenager?"
"They weren't popular until the 90's anyway."
"How long were they popular?"
"Accoring to Wikipedia... '92 to '96."
"How many albums in that time?"
"Three."
"How many Blur albums did he just say he liked?"
"Five?"
"Quantity over quality."
"I guess. Well someone build him a time machine, because if he liked Blur, he should have loved Pulp."
"You really think that's what he'd do with a time machine? Go back so he could be a fan of Pulp contemporaneously? I think he'd have some other things to fix first."
"Maybe, but I doubt this wouldn't fuck with the space time continuum as much."
"Are we assuming Terminator/Back the Future rules or Star Trek reboot rules?"
"The only rules that even make a nod towards scientific reality is Primer."
"Shit, he'd fifty before he could do anything about it then. Would he even still care?"
"I feel like we've gone a little off topic..."
* * *
For no particular reason, here's another really good song by Pulp.
Saturday, February 28, 2015
Track 15
Part 2 of 3
Who's the best Britpop band? It's Blur.
Who's the worst Britpop band? It's Kula Shaker.
(I won't deign to establish where Oasis stands in the hierarchy. I'll just leave it at somewhere in between. Everyone likes "Champagne Supernova", even me.)
I feel qualified to make those statements because I own seven albums by Blur. I own one ablum by Kula Shaker purchased at a time in my life when I had decided that Britpop was the end all and be all of everything. I thought, "Here's a Britpop band no one has heard of. I can ask people if they've listened to Kula Shaker. When they say no, I can say, you should, they're really good. I'll sound like I'm in the know, maybe I could write for a music magazine." (I used to check Rolling Stone, the nascent Pitchfork (pitchforkmedia.com at the time) and even NME to see what the latest music reviews were and stay up to date.) One problem with Kula Shaker; I listened to a couple of times trying to convince myself it was good, but was complete rubbish. Take a listen:
If George Harrison knew this would happen, he might have been convinced to never touch a sitar.
Anyway, the song is by Blur, so why I am basically only writing about Kula Shaker? Because it's kind of fun to rag on Kula Shaker. And because there are so many other good songs by Blur I could have chosen instead. If you ask someone who's into Blur the way I was... OK, if you ask me, there are five good Blur albums beginning with Parklife. The two that came before, Leisure and Modern Life is Rubbish, are dull and moderately interesting, respectively, in my opinion. So then, what on Earth compelled me to include this kind of middle of the road early nineties Britpop over the actual song "M. O. R." (Middle of the Road)
or even the greatest car driving singalong ever?
Isn't it obvious? I've put two versions of the same song on a CD before. I've put two different songs with the same title on the same CD before. But three songs called "Blue Jeans"? It's a record I couldn't pass up!
This song's pleasant enough or whatever. What's Occam's razor? The stupidest explanation is the most likely? Yeah, that sounds right...
(P.S. Here's a clip Gilmore Girls trying to sound "hip" and "with it":
Why was I aware of the existence of the intersection of the CW and my favorite Britpop group? Your roommate was... fun... oh, so fun... (I don't really want to rag on Gilmore Girls. There are worse written shows out there. I'm just not... in the target demographic shall we say. I shant be throwing stones. Jane the Virgin does nothing if not place me squarely in the middle of glass house.))
Who's the best Britpop band? It's Blur.
Who's the worst Britpop band? It's Kula Shaker.
(I won't deign to establish where Oasis stands in the hierarchy. I'll just leave it at somewhere in between. Everyone likes "Champagne Supernova", even me.)
I feel qualified to make those statements because I own seven albums by Blur. I own one ablum by Kula Shaker purchased at a time in my life when I had decided that Britpop was the end all and be all of everything. I thought, "Here's a Britpop band no one has heard of. I can ask people if they've listened to Kula Shaker. When they say no, I can say, you should, they're really good. I'll sound like I'm in the know, maybe I could write for a music magazine." (I used to check Rolling Stone, the nascent Pitchfork (pitchforkmedia.com at the time) and even NME to see what the latest music reviews were and stay up to date.) One problem with Kula Shaker; I listened to a couple of times trying to convince myself it was good, but was complete rubbish. Take a listen:
If George Harrison knew this would happen, he might have been convinced to never touch a sitar.
Anyway, the song is by Blur, so why I am basically only writing about Kula Shaker? Because it's kind of fun to rag on Kula Shaker. And because there are so many other good songs by Blur I could have chosen instead. If you ask someone who's into Blur the way I was... OK, if you ask me, there are five good Blur albums beginning with Parklife. The two that came before, Leisure and Modern Life is Rubbish, are dull and moderately interesting, respectively, in my opinion. So then, what on Earth compelled me to include this kind of middle of the road early nineties Britpop over the actual song "M. O. R." (Middle of the Road)
or even the greatest car driving singalong ever?
Isn't it obvious? I've put two versions of the same song on a CD before. I've put two different songs with the same title on the same CD before. But three songs called "Blue Jeans"? It's a record I couldn't pass up!
This song's pleasant enough or whatever. What's Occam's razor? The stupidest explanation is the most likely? Yeah, that sounds right...
(P.S. Here's a clip Gilmore Girls trying to sound "hip" and "with it":
Why was I aware of the existence of the intersection of the CW and my favorite Britpop group? Your roommate was... fun... oh, so fun... (I don't really want to rag on Gilmore Girls. There are worse written shows out there. I'm just not... in the target demographic shall we say. I shant be throwing stones. Jane the Virgin does nothing if not place me squarely in the middle of glass house.))
Track 14
I have a difficult relationship with the band The Walkmen. I have two albums by them and there are only two songs on them that I unequivocally love. This song and "The Rat" off Bows + Arrows. I saw them live in Austin and had one of the worst concert experience of my life. You probably remember that. I kept trying to call you on a payphone. Why I didn't immediately go and buy a fucking cell phone the very next day is beyond me. Damn my obstinacy. I blame my mother. Actually quote: Won't the wi-fi in the park be an eyesore?
So, obvious question: if I'm only head over heals for two songs by the Walkmen, why do I own two of their albums. Good question. Not that there's only two songs I like and the rest I hate. There are about a half dozen other songs I kind of like and am pleasantly surprised to hear when I put my music player on random.
First, iTunes and online music didn't exist in their present form in the early aughts. Yes, there was Napster or other file sharing, but I'm actually am one of these "I will buy the music to support the artist and the record store" people. (I miss you ear X-Tacy. I could have done more...)
Second, this award winning Saturn commercial:
If Don Draper were a real person, he would have made that ad. I'm sucker for good music in a car commercial. Unfortunately, for the car manufacturers, I buy the music and not the car. I also bought Nick Drake album based on the use of "Pink Moon" in this award winning Volkswagen ad.
I also remember The Go! Team being used in a car commercial, but I already owned that album. Not that The Go! Team is wistful and nostalgic like the music in the commercials above, but The Go! Team reminds me of Pittsburgh in the most wonderful way. This song is all melancholy to me. The lead singer doesn't really sound that happy that he's older. Verbal Irony.
The third reason? It's a recurring theme. My brother said they were cool.
Track 13
What's the best way to attack this song?
- I could try to act like I know something literature, but I'd fall flat on my face. I know what a Faustian deal is and know that it's a literary to allusion to a story about a guy named Faust. By the way, somebody makes a Faustian deal every other week on Supernatural. It doesn't seem all that related to the song anyway - perhaps only in the mind of the songwriter. Besides, I'm much more interested in Fausto Carmona, which was the name baseball pitcher Roberto Hernandez used to obtain a visa with that underestimated his age by about three years. Coming across as a young prospect instead of an old one can make all the difference.
Frankly, I would have changed my name to Fausto Carmona because Fausto Carmona is about the most badass name in the history of Earth. Age ain't nothing but a number, baby. - I could talk about the fact that I just wanted a chillout song that official signaled an end to the rave up portion of the mix. Something you can put on and cool out to. Take it away Mick Jagger:
Ever hear Mr. Tony do this on the radio? I always laugh. It's probably in poor taste as a Hell's Angels security guard killed someone, which is the event some people erroneously claim ended the hippie dream for the 60s. - I could acknowledge the fact, while I love to drive along to trancy, dream songs like this, that you don't. That you prefer to listen to a catchy tune that you can sing along with. I probably should just stick with Andrew WK, I guess.
It does have Japanese lyrics and unless I'm crazy, I recall you saying that you enjoyed weird J-Pop music. Not that this is J-Pop in anyway shape or form, but it gives me an excuse to embed the following video.
I should probably try to cater to your preference for music that has rollicking singalong potential though. - I could talk about Gorillaz for awhile. Gorillaz was the collaboration of Blur lead singer Damon Albarn and visual artist Jamie Hewitt. The idea was to create a virtual music group for the internet age. The band "members" were cartoon characters and the band's website an Adobe Flash wonderland. There was airhead lead singer 2D (voiced by Albarn), homicidal bassist Murdoc (who never spoke), African American drummer Russell (who provided by hip-hop and was voiced by Del the Funky Homosapien early on. By the way, Del the Funky Homosapien is possible the greatest hip-hop moniker ever. Better than Fabalous, at least.), and thirteen year old Japanese lead guitarist Noodle (voiced by Miho Hatori in this song and in others.) Dan "The Automator" Nakamura also produced a number of songs, heavily contributing to the hip-hop side.
I think the idea was supposed to create a post-everything musical experience that could genre hop at will, but most of the songs that aren't hip-hop
end up sounding suspiciously like Britpop. Specifically Blur. Gorillaz was essentially Damon Albarn solo side project for awhile. And because I loved Blur, I was super into Gorillaz for awhile.
Digression: I usually am not one to follow an artist's side project. I like the bands I like and I become very attached to that version of the musical universe. Radiohead? Yes. Thom Yorke side project? No. (Though I don't know what the difference is a lot of the time.) Spoon? Very much yes. Britt Daniel side project? No. Electric Six? Yes. Dick Valentine Side project? Well, probably, if I could get my hands on it. But I haven't tried as hard as I would to find a 6 album though. Not sure why Valentine needs a side project, considering he writes all the music and most of the other players have been interchangeable (knife!) parts that feel like coming along for the ride. (Live drummer technology.) Anyway, Blur? Yes. Gorillaz? Yes. Why? For one, Blur had broken up and this seemed like closest thing to the continuation of Blur. Secondly, and almost certainly more importantly, my brother said it was cool.
Now, artists probably identify infinitely less with adhering to their particular band's aesthetic as fan's do. Britt Daniel may talk about wanting to put out songs that don't feel like a Spoon ablum, even thought they sound just like a Spoon album. But all of a sudden I don't care as much as if it were Spoon. But they do this all the time. They love to hop around and cross pollinate (especially "alternative" artists) which is something I obsessed with for awhile. For example. Miho Hatori was one-half of alt-Japanese/New York City duo Cibo Matto. Cibo Matto is probably best known for the video of the song "Sugar Water." Directed by whom? Michel Gondry of course.
("Sugar Water" is on the Buffy Radio Sunnydale soundtrack by the way.) Miho Hatori also provided guest vocals on the following Beastie Boys song (one of my favorites):
When I was really into music, I would deep dive into all this stuff. Who directed what music video. Who works with the same producers. Who appeared on other people's records. I can play six degrees of separation with a bunch of this stuff. (Although it's usually a lot fewer than six.) I was fascinated by it. I think the arbitrary rule of being inherently resistant to side projects basically existed as a way of limiting choice. If I don't place artificial barriers on my choices, I often find myself lost in a rabbit hole that I don't come out of for days or run into paralysis by analysis.
Of the four options presented, you obviously care about 4 the least, so some combination of 1-3 is what this blog is about then.
- Fausto Carmona is a badass name.
- Cool Out! Cool Out!
- I apologize for including songs that are essentially instrumentals that rob you of the chance to exercise your beautiful singing voice. Would that they could be "Common People", am I right? Also, the Japanese lyrics are repeated in English by Albarn towards the end, in case you were wondering.
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Track 12
Part 1 of 3
Everybody wants to Lou Reed. Mr. Tony may not understand why, but it's true. The lyrics don't seem to mean much of anything, but the video is definitely trying to ape the old Velvet Underground look. Psychedelia in black and white looks apocalyptic.
Everybody wants to Lou Reed. Mr. Tony may not understand why, but it's true. The lyrics don't seem to mean much of anything, but the video is definitely trying to ape the old Velvet Underground look. Psychedelia in black and white looks apocalyptic.
Do I want to be Lou Reed? I don't konw, but I'm fascinated by people who do. One of my old favorites: The Dandy Warhols. It might be a bad pun, but as an hommage it doesn't get more blatant. They also "borrowed" The Velvet Underground banana.
 |
| Welcome to the Monkey House - The Dandy Warhols |
The Pixies' song "Here Comes Your Man"? It bears at least a passing resemblance to The Velvet Underground's "I'm Waiting for My Man". By the song titles, both could seem could be about about waiting for a lover. But the they are actually about waiting for a drug dealer to show. (Well, the Pixies song perhaps only obliquely. Perhaps that interpretation is only in play when you are thinking of the Velvet Underground in the first place.)
My favorite Lou Reed song? "Take a Walk on the Wild Side."
Of course that's probably everybody's favorite Lou Reed song. So why not go for something more original? I'm kind of fond of this one too...
Even Supernatural wants to be Lou Reed. Perhaps the best scene the show ever did was when they used "Heroin" by The Velvet Underground as a backdrop for Crowley shooting up.
Music incorporated into television works best when it hints that show is appealing to some kind of universal experience beyond it's own universe. It's when a light bulb goes off that makes you say, "Oh, this isn't just about the show anymore." It why I like the end of season 4 of Venture Bros. so much.
I think I called it transcendent once. It made me sound pretentious and hyperbolic simultaneously, but I was just trying to convey the music combined with the visuals combined with the acquired history of the show's characters led to a moment that you felt on a deeper level than just arc of the show. (By the way, don't think that Jarvis Cocker and Lou Reed are all that dissimilar. Jarvis Cocker = lead singer of Pulp. I forgot to explain Lou Reed = lead singer of The Velvet Underground for a time.)
Also before I go farther, a quick shout out to Supernatural for the following scene:
It's just a devastating scene. And it's just a devastating song. It understands that the saddest songs are the ones that sound hopeful. The dissonance between tone and message is just emotionally eviscerating. There are some Beach Boys songs like that. But Supernatural gets an A+ for the music in season 9. The choice of soundtrack is usually spot on anyway. Surprisingly varied and with depth given how much the focus is usually on that song by Kansas. Despite it being kind of a cheesy song, they always use it really well. It almost redeems the existence of Kansas. Well, maybe not for Mr. Tony... If only he was a Supernatural fan. (THAT is what it's like when worlds collide!)
Wow, that stream of consciousness rant, went way far afield. What does the song mean? Hell if I know. Maybe it's just sheer vapidity. Maybe it's just about how cool you can look in blue jeans and leather. Perhaps that's the ultimate triumph of Lou Reed. Blue Jeans and leather.
Maybe I just needed a song to bring down the rave up portion of the mix and, as my mind so often does, it drifted back to the music and videos I was paying attention to when I first came to college. I'm not sure I even like Ladytron that much. Critics would complain of their choice of style of substance. (That sounds suspiciously similar to quantity of quality.) They seemed to finally come around on the album, The Witching Hour, which was enough to convince me to buy that album. This song wasn't on it though, which is why I ultimately never listened to it very much.
Maybe I just have a thing for putting songs with the same title, but from different groups on the same CD. It sounds like a ridiculous college English assignment. Here are three songs with the title "Blue Jeans" by three different artists. Compare and contrast...
Track 11
Michel Gondry is probably the most interesting person I know nothing about. He directed a bunch of my favorite music videos.In the choice between quality and quantity, I choose quantity because quantity remains, while quality fades.- Michel Gondry
And even though it's not a particularly good version of the song, or even a very fun video, included, for the sake of David Aldridge:
He also directed the Charlie Kaufman penned scripts Human Nature and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. The first is OK, but the second almost criminally underrated. (I think there was some Jim Carrey as a serious actor backlash. But it has Mark Ruffalo! According to McManus and Hornaday, that should make up for any deficiencies.) He also directed The Science of Sleep which stars your least favorite actor of all time, Gael Garcia Bernal, followed by Be Kind Rewind, which is a movie with a thin premise, but is kind of fun. (Even if you don't like Jack Black (I do), who doesn't like Mos Def?) He then directed The Green Hornet, which, while I haven't seen it, seems to have worked out as well as Jean-Paul Jeunet directing Joss Whendon's script for Alien: Resurrection. (Meaning not well. Lesson: You probably shouldn't trust established or potential movie franchises to artsy French directors. Of course, we could just blame Seth Rogen and Winona Ryder. "Most Good.")
Basically, Michel Gondry inhabits a world of Legos, dancing robots, Kylie Minogue clones, psychedelic funhouse mirrors, and stop motion animation. He also stands at the cross section of about everything I loved about the late nineties and early aughts. He seems to have worked with all my favorite bands and my favorite screenwriter (Charlie Kaufman had me forever at Being John Malkovich.) Basically, Michel Gondry and Spike Jonze fought a Battle Royale over my blossoming hipsterdom. Michel Gondry had The Chemical Brothers, so Spike Jonze retaliated with Fatboy Slim. Spike Jonze had The Beastie Boys, so Michel Gondry raised him Daft Punk, but eventually had to cede them over to James Murphy (LCD Soundsystem). (I played it for all the rock kids at CBGB's. They all thought it was crazy.) Michel Gondry may have gotten the final laugh with The White Stripes though. (I don't think anything had a bigger affect on how I consumed music than when I heard "Fell in Love With a Girl" on the radio for the first time. Well that, and MuchMusic Megahits. And later on TheCoolTV.)
Spike Jonze directed two Charlie Kaufman movies (Adaptation and Being John Malkovich) and so has Michel Gondry. Eventually, at some point, I had to say, "Guys, enough! You can both have me." But the big difference is that despite the fact that Spike Jonze would prefer being a reclusive skater weirdo, I probably know pretty much everything about him. Lost in Translation was at least partly about him. Giovanni Ribisi's character as the emotionally detached husband is essentially supposed to be a takedown of Mr. Jonze. And supposedly the subtext for the movie Her is that it's supposed to be, in part, his rebuttal. (How does Scarlett Johansson keep getting caught in the middle of all this? I wonder if Her is worth watching?)
Meanwhile, all I know about Michel Gondry is that he's French and he says weird shit like the quote at the top. He's probably just a normal guy otherwise.
In this universe, I think I'd prefer to be Michel Gondry, but worry that I'm actually Spike Jonze.
In other news, I miss listening to The Chemical Brothers. They are fun enough to dance to and trippy enough to get high to. Sometimes I wish I danced... and other times I wish I was on drugs... (but only the fun kind, maybe some mild hallucinogens. No needles.) Maybe if I did drugs, I'd be more willing to dance.
In conclusion: The movie Hanna is criminally underrated. Now that should been a movie franchise. But I suppose albino-ish looking actresses can't stay 16 forever...
Wednesday, February 25, 2015
Track 10
What is so special about the song? For some reason, I swear I've seen The Fever in concert at least three times and I would recognize this song each time because it was, by far, the best thing they ever performed. God help me though, I can only specifically remember seeing them on two occasions. There's only one thing to do. I have to go through my memory, search the internet and see if I can remember ever single live show I've ever been to, to see if maybe I can unearth that missing performance of Ladyfingers that's seems to be forever lost to the ether. Speak about a Don Quixote task...
Here's a link if you want to look at it in a separate page.
Oh well, only two shows from the Fever that I remember. Of course, I don't claim the list is 100% comprehensive, but I'm pretty sure I only saw them twice. I guess I was surprised enough that I recognized them when they opened for the Electric Six, I assumed I had seen them more than once. Oh well... song's still pretty good.
Here's a link if you want to look at it in a separate page.
Oh well, only two shows from the Fever that I remember. Of course, I don't claim the list is 100% comprehensive, but I'm pretty sure I only saw them twice. I guess I was surprised enough that I recognized them when they opened for the Electric Six, I assumed I had seen them more than once. Oh well... song's still pretty good.
Track 9
It's sweltering outside. It's probably 90 degrees. Or higher. And it's humid. The side yard is twisted, tangled jungle of weeds. Before the attack, I have to do a little reconnaissance first. The last time I tried this, there was a poison ivy defense. I should have seen it. Leaves of three and hairy vines and all that. It makes me itch just to think about it. I sprayed it and then I sprayed it again. If the plants are going to be using biological warfare, it's only fair that I am allowed to respond in kind. They had mixed in with the benign plants. Maybe the poison ivy thought that would provide it some kind of protection. By using the surrounding plants as some kind of human shield, perhaps I would be unwilling to tear everything out. How wrong it is.
I'd just as soon burn it all, but Wikipedia says that youyou can actually breath in the urushiol in the smoke. Urushiol is what causes the rash on your skin. Swallowing it or breathing it in would be much worse. And if it's on the internet you know it has to be right. I check around the poison ivy seems dead, but the urushiol is still there even if the plan is dead, getting all the roots out can be problematic, so I have on heavy work gloves and am wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans. And it's 90 degrees out. Or higher. And humid. As I venture into the jungle, I have my headphones, my iPod, and some backlogged All Songs Considered podcasts. Sometimes, I wonder if NPR hosts are as dull in real life as they sound on the radio. Sometimes the panel discussions can be lively, but it's nearly impossible to not sound pretentious on NPR. But since WOXY ceased operations, the podcast has been my main source of discovering new music. Host Bob Boilen, introduces a short, snotty little powerpop by a band called The Front Bottoms.
He talks about them having played at a club in DC the other. He mentions how everyone knew the lyrics and sang along. He mentioned how hot it was inside the club and how everyone inside was sweating, most of all the band. I wonder if the band was sweating as much as I am now. The song plays. The song lasts all of one minute and fifty seconds. The introduction for the song and band took at least thrice that long.
For some reason it reminds me of playing Rock Band. It reminds me of the powerpop songs that Brandon usually picked. I think he used to pick the songs by Paramore. I'm not sure if it's because he had a crush on the female lead singer, or just enjoyed singing in that register. Silent Bob usually played fake guitar the whole time while wearing his hat. Zitzer would always pick classic rock songs. Billy... well, Billy was usually drunk. I rewind the podcast and listen to the song again. It was kind of catchy. There's no way it could be a Rock Band song in retrospect. It's far too short. There's no accordion in Rock Band (but wouldn't it be awesome if there was!). Aside from that, there's there's no accompaniment except for a tambourine and a simple picked guitar for most of the song. Except for the thirty seconds or so during which explodes. Blow that part out for four or five minutes and maybe you've got a Rock Band song. Oh, well. Back to the weeds, Just keep pulling them until the garbage can is full I guess. Damn I'm sweaty.
Fast Forward to the winter. Unlike Game of Thrones, winter does actually come at some point.
I wonder why that song from those months ago is still stuck in my head. Probably the accordion. I'm a sucker for non-traditional instrumentation in rock music. More Saxophones! More glockenspiel! More accordions! More strings! More horns! I need something to pair with the theme from The Good Guys for the rockin' out portion of the mix. This'll probably fit. It's a break-up song, though. Yeah, but it's kind of funny. Besides, it makes a really 1-2 punch of unadulterated rockin' out. Maybe I should pay attention to the lyrics a little more, but what do I do? I just ignore them and go ahead and put it in the mix. Actually, I'm perfectly aware of the lyrics and hope that you think it's some combination of cute/clever/endearing that I let my inner weirdo shine through and ignore what convention dictates should and should not go this mix CD. Besides, I might be the last person alive to make mixes like and burn to an actual CD. If I'm the only one doing it, I get to the make the rules.
My brother would make mix tapes that had no particular order to them. He would sit by his stereo listening to the radio, and when they announced they were about to play a song that he liked he'd sit there and try to record it to a cassette. Screw actually buying music. I gotta say that in the pre-internet days, if you wanted your own copy of a song without paying for it, you had to earn it. Anyway, at some point he decided music existed beyond classic rock and started buying CDs. He also probably had a job too.
Anyway, if I'm the last person that is keeping this dying art alive, I get to make all the rules.
I want my money back....
I'd just as soon burn it all, but Wikipedia says that youyou can actually breath in the urushiol in the smoke. Urushiol is what causes the rash on your skin. Swallowing it or breathing it in would be much worse. And if it's on the internet you know it has to be right. I check around the poison ivy seems dead, but the urushiol is still there even if the plan is dead, getting all the roots out can be problematic, so I have on heavy work gloves and am wearing a long sleeve shirt and jeans. And it's 90 degrees out. Or higher. And humid. As I venture into the jungle, I have my headphones, my iPod, and some backlogged All Songs Considered podcasts. Sometimes, I wonder if NPR hosts are as dull in real life as they sound on the radio. Sometimes the panel discussions can be lively, but it's nearly impossible to not sound pretentious on NPR. But since WOXY ceased operations, the podcast has been my main source of discovering new music. Host Bob Boilen, introduces a short, snotty little powerpop by a band called The Front Bottoms.
He talks about them having played at a club in DC the other. He mentions how everyone knew the lyrics and sang along. He mentioned how hot it was inside the club and how everyone inside was sweating, most of all the band. I wonder if the band was sweating as much as I am now. The song plays. The song lasts all of one minute and fifty seconds. The introduction for the song and band took at least thrice that long.
For some reason it reminds me of playing Rock Band. It reminds me of the powerpop songs that Brandon usually picked. I think he used to pick the songs by Paramore. I'm not sure if it's because he had a crush on the female lead singer, or just enjoyed singing in that register. Silent Bob usually played fake guitar the whole time while wearing his hat. Zitzer would always pick classic rock songs. Billy... well, Billy was usually drunk. I rewind the podcast and listen to the song again. It was kind of catchy. There's no way it could be a Rock Band song in retrospect. It's far too short. There's no accordion in Rock Band (but wouldn't it be awesome if there was!). Aside from that, there's there's no accompaniment except for a tambourine and a simple picked guitar for most of the song. Except for the thirty seconds or so during which explodes. Blow that part out for four or five minutes and maybe you've got a Rock Band song. Oh, well. Back to the weeds, Just keep pulling them until the garbage can is full I guess. Damn I'm sweaty.
Fast Forward to the winter. Unlike Game of Thrones, winter does actually come at some point.
I wonder why that song from those months ago is still stuck in my head. Probably the accordion. I'm a sucker for non-traditional instrumentation in rock music. More Saxophones! More glockenspiel! More accordions! More strings! More horns! I need something to pair with the theme from The Good Guys for the rockin' out portion of the mix. This'll probably fit. It's a break-up song, though. Yeah, but it's kind of funny. Besides, it makes a really 1-2 punch of unadulterated rockin' out. Maybe I should pay attention to the lyrics a little more, but what do I do? I just ignore them and go ahead and put it in the mix. Actually, I'm perfectly aware of the lyrics and hope that you think it's some combination of cute/clever/endearing that I let my inner weirdo shine through and ignore what convention dictates should and should not go this mix CD. Besides, I might be the last person alive to make mixes like and burn to an actual CD. If I'm the only one doing it, I get to the make the rules.
My brother would make mix tapes that had no particular order to them. He would sit by his stereo listening to the radio, and when they announced they were about to play a song that he liked he'd sit there and try to record it to a cassette. Screw actually buying music. I gotta say that in the pre-internet days, if you wanted your own copy of a song without paying for it, you had to earn it. Anyway, at some point he decided music existed beyond classic rock and started buying CDs. He also probably had a job too.
Anyway, if I'm the last person that is keeping this dying art alive, I get to make all the rules.
I want my money back....
Tuesday, February 24, 2015
Track 8
The Bradley Whitford
The Burt Reynolds
The Tom Selleck
The Bill Hader
The Rollie Fingers
The Freddie Mercury
The Adam Morrison (It's a shame this one didn't pan out.)
The BYU Volleyball Coach
The Ambrose Burnside
The Larry Bird
The "Nobody is willing to say anything to Michael Jordan"
The Michael Cera
The "The Rent is Too Damn High"
The Dick Valentine
The Ron Swanson
The Ron Swanson Friction Edition
The Casey Affleck
The Casey Affleck
The Casey Affleck
The Casey Affleck
I could go on, but I think you get the point.
Track 7
2001 Covington Catholic Baseball Unofficial Theme Song:
2002 Covington Catholic Baseball Unofficial Theme Song:
Here's a picture of people dancing to the Cha Cha Slide
Here's a picture from the Awnaw music video:
Here's how the 2001 baseball season ended:
Here's how the 2002 baseball season ended:
I know correlation does not imply causation, but I choose to believe there is a clear relationship here. Nappy Roots became the music of choice because, aside from them becoming popular in aught-two, they were a hip-hop group based out of Bowling Green, where we happened to have our spring break tournament that year.
Now, I was a scrub and didn't play much. I also was on the Speech and Drama team. The state competition was at WKU each year, so by my senior year I was well versed with the drive. The fact that my I was half of an improv duo that had a legitimate shot at getting to the finals of the state competition (Community inside joke aside: "What are regionals?" Well, let me tell you, I've been to regionals...) was, in fact, part of the reason for why I was a scrub and not a starting in right field. That, and I lacked an innate ability to read a fly ball coming off a bat as I had been used playing infield prior to high school.
All of which is to say that what I remember most about the going to Bowling Green was during the drive down I-65, there was a very tall sign that said "ADULT". Being a collection of horny school kids, the other guys titter, "Hey, poe-no!" Which was their oh-so-clever way of saying "porno" in all-guy-high-school-ese.
Having made the drive for speech and drama competitions, I didn't even look up or take off the headphones through which I was listening to Paul's Boutique by the Beastie Boys. I just announced, "It's a gas station." (Paul's Boutique was released in 1989 and it's 2002. I know.)
"What?" They were mostly nonplussed as the sign was visible from miles away from the actual business associated with it, so once we actually passed the exit with the sign and they saw that it was, in fact, a gas station advertising Adult Videos and "literature", they all burst out laughing. For a fleeting moment, I was a legend. How did I have this knowledge and they did not? Was I somehow intimately connected to the Kentucky pornography industry? (And by the industry I mean the business.) I played it cool, (What else was there to do?)
So these are the memories I have from my senior year of high school. None of which apropos of anything except that: Awnaw > Cha Cha Slide. Of course, most anything > Cha Cha Slide, but Awnaw is pretty damn good and provides a little slice of life from my high school experience. And I just like the way they say vert-i-CAL.
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