Food: Tinoes or...

Memorial Day Tribute

I hope all of our American readers are spending this memorial day wisely. Since it's change of calibration date, from the 30th to the last Monday of the month, the day has had a decrease in recognition (seen only as a three-day weekend).
Let us all pause for a second, setting aside our political differences, and think of those who have served and died in our nations name. Maybe a brother or sister or friend? Or like in my case, grandfathers, and great grandfathers.

We cherish too, the Poppy red
That grows on fields where valor led,
It seems to signal to the skies
That blood of heroes never dies.

-Moina Michael (1918)

Grave Digger

Monster trucks are, in my opinion, a big piece of American history. This great American pass time started one clear night in 1981 when Bob Chandler and his “Bigfoot” roared as it smashed a line of cars for hundreds of curious onlookers. It did not take very long before others started to build monster trucks of their own, and one of those just so happened to be Grave Digger, a masterpiece creation by Dennis Anderson , in his hometown Kill Devil Hills, North Carolina.

Gravedigger backstage.

Since Anderson there have been six other drivers of this beast ! Grave Digger has always been a family favorite. Gravedigger was completely different than all other monster trucks, with its unique body shape and awesome paint job. This was and is a serious monster truck! I remember when I was younger going to see Grave Digger with my dad, I had the honor of climbing up one of the huge tires. I was on top of the world that day, literally, my world was monster trucks and those tires were the instruments for doing one of my most favorite things, smashing stuff! Without further a due, here is a video of Grave Digger smashing a bus, repeatedly! (as for your musical selection this morning, notice George Thorogood's 1982 classic, "Bad to the Bone" playing in the background of the video, sorry, can't put this one on itunes!)

p.s. I know I said that I do not do weekends, but I had some downtime and decided, what the heck? Plus there was no update Friday, I started the party a little early this weekend. Had to, work was busy.

Hang in There

Today I would like to talk a little bit about hangnails, yes those sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes fun to pick at little beasties on the sides of your fingernails!

Contrary to what we call them, “Hang Nails”, they are actually pieces of skin! Skin that has dried and separated from around the fingernail or cuticle area (see illustration).

Now there is one main way to prevent hangnails, and that is by not letting your hands dry out, this is especially hard during these summer months, as you may or may not know about already, I personally did not know about this, because frankly, I've never thought about it.

A way of keeping your hands from drying out is by wearing a plastic kitchen glove filled with water and tied around the wrist with either string or a rubber band. This is an age-old Tinos family home-remedy for beautiful looking hands, that is why you've never ran into a Tinos family member with disgusting hangnails that catch on clothing articles.

A more conventional method is by applying moisturizing lotion to your hands frequently throughout the day. The choice is yours, but don't come crying to me if the latter doesn't work worth a damn.

If you find yourself stuck with a hang nail even still, the “best” way to get rid of it, as prescribed by “Alice” (from http://www.goaskalice.com) , is:

“As soon as you notice a hangnail, soften your skin by soaking your hands in a water-and-oil solution. Then trim the hangnail with a pair of sterile, sharp cuticle scissors. This will help deter the nagging tendency to want to pick at or chew off a hangnail, which can create a bigger tear and increase your risk for infection.” ( http://www.goaskalice.columbia.edu/2340.html )

I however, enjoy biting and ripping them out with my teeth then I spit them somewhere in the room. They will never be found. This process is a lot quicker and more efficient.

Now, a manly song for a typically womanly topic: The Offspring - Nitro

the itunes generation keepin the ball rollin, constantly!

Food Journal

I keep a eating journal for my own personal enjoyment. Sometimes I find myself eating the strangest things in one day, it will vary from Mexican food to Chinese food and maybe throw in a burger two. HA, what a strange thought, right?
Well here is what I had for today:

Dear Journal,
Today for breakfast I had frosted mini wheats for breakfast, I think the origins of these tasty little things is the United States of America.

Dear Journal,
Today for lunch I had a sandwich from the sandwich shop. It had three types of cheese (which were from Italy, France, and America) lettuce, pickles, mustard (French) and the bread was French, too. And there was also some turkey that I presume was born and raised in America, but I honestly could be wrong. So I would say the meal was mostly French.

Dear Journal,
Today for dinner I had barbecued chicken and potatoes and peas. This was definitely an American dinner. I bet no other country has barbecue's, and if they do they are probably no where near as hawt as they are out here on the West Coast of Califa. Out here we top the whole country in barbeque's, and thats the truth! Its because our heritage is the gold rush and those cowboys knew they had to be tough and had to throw big barbecue's to show the other gold rushers who was the best barbecuer in the new land.

Dear Journal,
As a summery of the day I see that I hardly ventured any further than America for food. But seeing as I had a French lunch that would hint toward my being a fairly liberal thinker, which I am proud of. Thank you and goodnight.

Uh, heres an mp3 for the ipod to keep you interested, I know you don't read too good out there in “music blog land”.

Don't Trip

Tino don't do weekends, REMEMBER THAT!

Tinos House

Well Brian should be on his merry way by now, maybe on an airplane, maybe on a ship or in a car, I honestly don't know. He asked me to hold down the B+A until June while he trips around Europe, I obliged with a grin, because little does he know that his good ol Bows and Arrows has become Tinos and Tinos, thats right you are all in for it now. Either tune out for the remainder of this month or prepare your minds for a little history and other very relevant topics (weather you know it or not)! I am taking requests through the comment section on historical topics that you would like to know more about, I also take requests for more current topics but it is going to take a good one to move me enough to research and write about it! If you have none, that is fine. I am full of good stories, history, and other general interests.
If you all are good to me, who knows I may give you your beloved MP3s for your iPODS, or whatever.

Now, lets get down to business, and cross our fingers that Brian doesn't check in until June.

Words + Spells

Black Heart Procession - Not Just Words [mp3]

When I learned to Soulseek, I experienced a period of overwhelming accumulation, during which even my slightest musical interests, nay, curiosities, warranted entire back-catalog downloads. Forgive me, I was fifteen. As a result, my hard-drive filled with albums I would occasionally listen to, which made me an extremely passive fan of a number of bands. The Black Heart Procession would be the archetype, an ever-present and somewhat unremarkable group, this being the extent of my knowledge about them: they numbered their albums, except for Amore Del Tropico, and one of them contains "The War Is Over," the one song I can recall. They were, on the whole, too dirge-y, too protracted for my taste. Which was a shame, because BHP's music is very unique, their sound bringing to my mind a black, deep and tempestuous sea, the word bathymetry, a severe loneliness.

It's with much surprise and happiness, then, that I can say the Black Heart Procession has got it right. I gave "Not Just Words," from their latest album, The Spell, a try - without expectations or much interest. It took me immediately, propelled by big, steady drums, where the band hadn't been before. To extend the maritime metaphor: they're no longer content to wade in their black seas, and who can blame them after four albums? This song finds them riled and impassioned, doing all they can to keep afloat. Hear him sing "I'm trying to remember!"? Because that is something new, more powerful and more confident and more chilling than I've heard this band before. This, simply put, is a fantastic song, cementing my previously irresolute fandom with remarkable force and style.

Visit the Black Heart Procession online, and buy The Spell here.

See you in June.

How Close Am I?

The National - About Today [mp3]

I finally got my hands on the National's haunting set-closer, "About Today." It's a subdued number, all comatose continuity and red wine, Matt Berninger asking "How close am I/ To losing you," in his singularly fantastic/pathetic baritone. The song's interesting in that it never peaks and hardly changes, retaining an insistent, somber lull. That it's so frighteningly listenable, while remaining devoid of any flash or spark, speaks to its strength as a song. The National, I think, make the most gimmick-free music around, lacking pretense to the point where the songs become the bitter, bitter honesty which translates into terrible self-loathing. Their music is an unparalleled pairing of unrefined emotion with very refined music, music that glitters with a sad, stately elegance and lyrics evocative of cigarettes and being alone. And the way it comes together is much like the best literature, an intense humanity filtered through a gracious, uniquely magnificent and provocative lens.

Visit the National online, and buy the Cherry Tree EP here.

***

Josh Ritter has a video for "Lillian, Egypt." Check it out here. I feel I should mention that his new album, The Animal Years, has been played far more than anything else recently.

Four Tet's got an mp3 from The Exchange Session, vol. 2 with Steve Reid:

Kieran Hebden and Steve Reid - We Dream Free [mp3]

I missed my chance to see these two at the Triptych Festival, though I must admit I'm not entirely sold on the project. It's above my head.

Constants

I finished my exams today, meaning I'm through with my academic year abroad, but I have yet to feel the sweet release. Instead I came home to botched travel plans and strained friendships - hardly how I want to leave things. And also, it's raining. I'm stressed beyond stressed, tanked and tired. This is when music becomes essential (that sounds so stupid) and also when it becomes most difficult. I want to hear somebody as honestly upset as I am, upset at everyone and no-one, singing through a clenched jaw toward nothing real, letting their anger dissipate into empty space. I'll give you a little mix before I get too emo-tional here.

1. The Constantines - Insectivora [mp3]

I'm learning to survive/ On earthworms and houseflies

This song does not sound settled. It sounds determined and a little scary.

2. The Constantines - Tank Commander (Hung Up In A Warehouse Town) [mp3]

Bryan Webb almost sounds like he's gonna crack here. C'mon - let's relate.

Fin. Hey, what do you know? That's all. These guys rule - buy this album.

***

Check out Goodhodgkins' Visceral Moments post. I, for one, am all about visceral moments.

Apologies for this post. Also, I am busy moving out and moving on and there won't be many updates from me until June. Beg Dan and Tino, though, because they might be down.

Thinking Of A Dream I Had, vol. II

The areas between 30-35 degrees north and south of the equator are called the Horse Latitudes. Something like subtropical doldrums, they were named so because ships resorted to killing the horses in cargo for food upon becoming stuck in the light winds.

During a nap yesterday I dreamt of returning to these warm, dry climes, walking a long and straight highway from north to south, asking people I passed how far the Horse Latitudes were. "Soon" is, I think, what they told me, and I kept walking. Only, there were Santa Ana winds blowing against me, and I sneezed and my eyes itched, just like back home. I guess that means I was pretty close, though I don't remember making it home (34 degrees, 25 minutes North).

Belle & Sebastian - Judy and the Dream of Horses [mp3]

This song is where my dream came from, as it had been mentioned before I passed out. Listening again, it's a little strange hearing such a young B&S. It's almost too twee for my taste (though that wasn't the case a few years ago), but there's nothing more lovely than hearing Stuart Murdoch sing "Judy and the dream of hooorrrses" as the organ kicks in and the song picks up momentum in the last minute.

The Promise Ring - E. Texas Ave [mp3]

I've come across the term Horse Latitudes in various geoscience classes over the years, every time making me struggle to recall where I first heard it. It was an album, which I had until recently been attributing to the Dirty Three (but that's Horse Stories). No, it was quintessential emo group the Promise Ring, who I never wholly embraced despite my former passion for the genre (it turns out I just wanted to hear pop music - without the incessant preciousness and varying tunefulness). And this song - it sounds just like I remember the Promise Ring.

Visit Belle & Sebastian online, and buy If You're Feeling Sinister here.

Visit the Promise Ring online, and buy Horse Latitudes here.

Thinking Of A Dream I Had archive.

Heteronyms, vol. II

Nico - These Days [mp3]

This is actually a Jackson Browne song, though in my mind the Chelsea Girl's is the definitive rendition. Autumnal seems the perfect descriptor for Nico here, as she meditates on things lost and the "Times I had the chance to." And, put simply, it breaks my heart every time.

The Rentals - These Days [mp3]

There was a time when all I wanted to hear were synths and harmonies, and the Return Of The Rentals was a godsend. Matt Sharp's pet-project, looking back, offered nothing especially rewarding, and I can't say "These Days" much different. Driven by synths wee-ing and ooo-ing, it's got a particularly sweet bridge featuring Petra Haden (current Decemberist) and her violin.

Ron Sexsmith - These Days [mp3]

This song tells me it's okay to be a contemporary adult.

Visit Nico online, buy Chelsea Girl here.

Visit the Rentals online, buy Return of the Rentals here.

Visit Ron Sexsmith online, buy Cobblestone Runway here.

Past Heteronyms.

***

I like what I Guess I'm Floating's done here: where do blogs come from?

The Slip-stream

If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dreams
Where the mobile steel rims crack
And the ditch and the backroads stop
Could you find me
Would you kiss-a my eyes
And lay me down
In silence easy
To be born again

I came across Lester Bangs' review of Astral Weeks today, a piece written ten years after Van Morrison dropped the classic album. Sometime over the past few years I've realized it as my Favorite Album, which isn't something I think about often or very lightly, and a concept I'm not entirely comfortable with. It's certainly not something I feel I can write about, much less review. And I understand and appreciate Bangs' hesitation to write about the album directly, and preference toward illustrating its mysterial grace in the broad, powerful terms that come closest to doing it justice.

Van Morrison - Madame George [mp3]

Secret Machines - Astral Weeks [mp3]

To (try to) tackle such a song seems audacious, but it's an effort I appreciate. The more I listen, the more I enjoy the typically Machines reading. It becomes less overwhelming than it initially seems, all awash in two swirling chords and those monstrous drums. When I saw them play recently, they gorgeously covered Dylan's "Girl From The North Country," which I'd like to hear again - preferably from somewhere other than the pounding stage front.

Visit Van Morrison online, and buy Astral Weeks here. Needless to say, it's recommended.

Visit the Secret Machines online, and buy the Road Leads Where It's Led EP here.

Richard Hawley, or, Apologies to Gilbert Hendry, a Grown-Ass Man

Richard Hawley - I Sleep Alone [mp3]

Richard Hawley - The Ocean [mp3]

I don't know why I haven't written about Richard Hawley yet. I saw him on a television show called Later with Jools Holland, which I was watching because the National were featured on that episode as well. I remember how strange it was watching that band under stage lights, playing to a nation, when just a month before I had seen them in a little Glaswegian club, where they seemed at home in the dark and smoke. The Rakes were playing on this program as well, and I recall finding their wiry, distinctly British paranoia entertaining (if not entirely original). Most groups performed two songs, except for a man dressed entirely in black, an outfit as understated and classic as the song he played. He was Richard Hawley, and he had a low, beautiful voice that sung of the ocean over an appropriate swelling of strings and percussion. It was a performance entirely and wonderfully out of time, flawlessly and tastefully executed without an ounce of pretension. I can't imagine anyone not liking Hawley's music, which isn't to say it's innocuous or uninteresting. It's just that, despite its obvious strength, music this classically good can feel well-known, and in the neverending search for the new and different it's much too easy to dismiss Hawley as an (admittedly teriffic) oldies-fetishist. Ironically, it is his music which stands out from the majority, nearly flawless and particularly stirring.

Visit Richard Hawley online, and buy the fantastic Coles Corner here.

Study Aids!

I know, you're sick of learning. I'm sick of learning, and studying, and testing. It keeps us from doing anything we'd like to, consumes days whole and leaves naught to be remembered except jumbled pneumonic devices and tenuous mental notes and oh why didn't we go outside, it was such a nice day! The only thing we're capable of doing whilst studying? Listening to music. But not any music, certainly Blood Brothers didn't aid the revision process for my last exam. It can't be too happy, for we'll long to be seemingly anywhere else, and it can't be too sad, for that sets off a positive feedback loop of depression and irritability. No, it must be either usefully stimulating or entirely out-of-the-way, the former being rare and the latter being, well, boring.

It's with great pleasure, then, that I introduce to you Science Groove, who I was just introduced to via another science zealot (thx!). I am only half-joking. Two albums of inspired math-rock, in an entirely non-Don Caballero sense. Think We Are Scientists, only they are scientists. This is it, fellow power tools (that's a synonym for scholar). Enjoy.

From Muscles & Magnets

Science Groove - The Nucleus I Like Best [mp3]

Don't let the wistful intro fool you, Science Groove gets dirty a minute in: cheesy-keys-y, clapping hands, singing along, "Got my mind on my muscle and my muscle on my mind ... We talkin' ATP, yeah you know me." ATP is adenosine triphosphate.

Science Groove - Necessary But Not Sufficient [mp3]

It's big ballad time back at the lab, Science Groove ruminating on the Hg in Freddy Mercury. Dig the "NOT SUFFICIENT" chant, gives Sufjan's computer band a run for its money.

From My Dissertation

Science Groove - What Are The Assumptions [mp3]

Science Groove - Sense And Context [mp3]

Edgy stuff here, is that mockery in "Sense And Context"?

Grab both albums, free and legal, at Science Groove's website.

Good luck on your exams, kids. You'll thank me for this.

Slightly Moved

I don't know if I need to mention this (I am, at times, worthless when it comes to the Internet), but this site's feed has moved here:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/bowsplusarrows/HqVQ

Thank you.

Fields + Palisades

The Foundry Field Recordings - Holding The Pilots/Holding The Facts [mp3]

When the disco beat kicks in, do your best to keep your eyes from rolling. The Foundry aren't taking their cues from Clap Your Hands' measured irreverence here, though you'd be forgiven for making that presumption. It's more difficult to recall, but remember Modest Mouse's "A Different City"? That's what I hear: something altogether more caustic and nervy, a big sound from something tiny. The correspondence between thrumming heart and racing mind, the verses being the latter and the visceral, winning chorus being the former. It's a feat to capture such instinctiveness and translate to a language of cymbals and strings, and The Foundry succeed brilliantly.

Visit The Foundry Field Recordings online, and purchase Prompts/Miscues here (out June 13).

Palisades - This Is How I Lay [mp3]

Laura Veirs dropped this in a recent Dreams of Horses interview, and coincidentally it also sounds like Modest Mouse. Uncannily so - check the springy, ringing notes and a pre-chorus wonderfully (if not shamelessly) evocative of A Long Drive. I must admit, my annual period of M.M. rediscovery and rekindled obsession coincides with my recent discovery of Palisades, but a job this well done shouldn't go unnoticed.

Visit Palisades online, and buy the self-titled EP here.

A Pretty Mess By This One Band

I just watched the video for Gradaddy's "Where I'm Anymore" over at Aquarium Drunkard. It features Jason Lytle riding a bike through California, but not in the trans-state adventure sense. It's generic California, a grove of lemon trees and a suburban street, no clouds in a high, flat sky. He's singing to the camera, or rather lip-synching, cracking a smile at times and at one point laughing. His hat fell off when he ducked under a particularly low branch - it wasn't scripted (if indeed any of this was) and he couldn't help it. There's something bittersweet about seeing him without his trademark trucker's cap, the way he looks so old and a little resigned. But there's also something in his laugh, and how he grins to his friend behind the camera. Lytle, we get the sense, is exactly where he belongs and exactly where he couldn't escape: the deathless suburbia of Modesto, CA. He's a boy on his bike, probably bored but eternally all right, all too relatable. And what's more, watching this video makes it clear that Grandaddy is done. Done being a band, done touring the world, and mostly done trying to be what they could have been. Embracing their irrelevance, showing us that these sunny anystreets are where they belong, and that they will be and have been fine without us.

Grandaddy - Kim, You Bore Me To Death [mp3]

Grandaddy - He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot [mp3]

However, lest we forget, there was a time when Grandaddy really was important. The Sophtware Slump remains a brilliant record - for all its paranoid, ridiculous tendencies it betrayed remarkably human concerns. Songs about poet robots, broken appliances and lost pilots were as affecting as they were witty, raising interesting questions and meditating on them with a uniquely pretty sadness. "He's Simple, He's Dumb, He's The Pilot" is perhaps the standout track, asking an adrift 2000 Man, "Did you love this world/ And this world not love you?" Unfortunately, sometime during the ensuing three years the band must have either answered or forsaken their questions, without letting us know. Their next album was mostly just ridiculous, songs like "O.K. With My Decay," summing up (ha) the group's intentionally laughable Luddite leanings. Sumday, understandably, suffered somewhat under its ineffectiveness, however charming it sounded.

Grandaddy - O.K. With My Decay [mp3]

Grandaddy - Where I'm Anymore [mp3]

Now, with their swansong set for release, it becomes clear what Grandaddy's so cleverly done: tried to convince us that they were never relevant to begin with. Gradually, the band has lessened the weight attached to each release until we're left with shells of Grandaddy songs (the Todzilla EP), but by the time we notice it's tough to recall if and when their songs actually did matter. And now? They've got a music video that looks like the one you made with your friends that one hot, unexciting summer, but whereas yours only managed to display your boredom, Grandaddy's shows something altogether more bittersweet and significant. They're lost and found, as hard as they tried to leave, Modesto remains home. In fact, it's so much their home that we wonder how it was we could have expected anything more from them. From this man on a bicycle who looks more like your neighbor than the frontman of a band who, at one point, made you question why you owned a computer. I'd like to chalk it up to a simple mistake on my part (seriously, no computer?!), though it soon becomes clear that the truth isn't so kind. In typical Grandaddy fasion, Lytle asserts that "I don't know where I'm anymore," though it's heartbreakingly clear that he does, as he rides off through the grove, presumably toward home. And I, like many of you, will let ride my frustration, however understanding - I think they mean it this time.

Farewell, Grandaddy.

Grandaddy - Where I'm Anymore [mov]

Grandaddy - Goodbye [mp3]

Visit Grandaddy online, and buy Just Like the Fambly Cat here, available tomorrow.

Shouts

I don't do this nearly enough.

Eric has written an immensely enjoyable piece on the Beatles over at Marathonpacks. Not only is it an eye-opener, but it's a nice reaffirmation of blogging's occasionally elusive ingenuity.

All Things Feist is currently on a tear. Go get the Red Demos and dozens of other wonderful rarities!

You Ain't No Picasso posted the latest batch of Michael Nau (Page France) songs. Thank him, and thank Mr. Nau for being so prolific and sharing!

Swoon is a terrific blog, and their post on the late Grant McLennan, of the Go-Betweens, inspired me to give the band a first listen. I'm sorry it took an event like this for me to hear such a deserving band.

***

Watch for my Goodbye Grandaddy post this afternoon.

Thinking Of A Dream I Had, vol. I

Might as well go all-out here: Thinking Of A Dream I Had is another brand-new feature I've come up with, another easy weekend post and another fun exercise. Without further ado:

My friend had an away message up: "catching fish for dinner." I saw this right before going to bed, and it must have manifested itself in my dream. I was on a lake, probably my grandparents', desperately and enthusiastically trying to convince someone to fish with me. Desperately, because we probably had to catch our next meal. Enthusiastically because I really like fishing. It's not something I've done much, but I love the idea. What "fishing" entails: waiting, relaxing, bonding, and (with any luck) shots of excitement and pride. The idyllic scene of a boy on a dock with a stick for a rod, straw hat and overalls - that's basically what I wish my life consisted of.

M. Ward - Fishing Boat Song [mp3]

A young M. Ward with an electric guitar, singing of finding Jesus in Kansas. "If I build you a fishing boat/ Would you leave everyone you know?" he is asked. Sometimes, I might.

Radar Bros. - Rock Of The Lake [mp3]

This song sounds like my memories of Lake Nascimiento. Dry, dry, dry, California heat and dirt. It's languid, like those days were, a keyboard whistles the sun through the sky. A gorgeous melody, too, strummed on crystalline strings, floating up like the visible heat off summer roads.

I was going to share Sufjan's "Pickeral Lake," my favorite, but couldn't bring myself to do it. I'm sorry. It felt like giving up my only son to the wilderness. Which isn't fair, because you aren't wolves, don't get me wrong. And I don't have a son. That's a strange analogue. Anyway, if you don't have it, go to iTunes, where you can find it with the Michigan outtakes.

Visit M. Ward online, buy Duet For Guitars #2 here (though you can probably find it cheaper elsewhere).

Visit Radar Bros. online, buy And The Surrounding Mountains here. Highly recommended.

Just Had To Do This

Quickly, peep the first-rate writing at the American Chronicle (thanks LHB):

Most ‘uplifting moment’: when Matisyahu the Jewish rapper was imploring Jesus to "Lift me up!" (Sunday) His cross between reggae and rapping combined with his traditional Jewish garb and beard sound like the set up of a joke (“the Rabbi, the Rastafarian and the Rapper all walk into a bar…”) but completely work for no reason that makes any sense to the logical mind, he just happens to rock the house and you just have to be there!

No sense to the logical mind at all! Good job, June Caldwell!

Pure Musical Satisfaction

So.

When Brian first asked me to write for this magnificent b-log, honestly I was pretty intimidated. The blogosphere, I've been told, is the best place to find groundbreaking new artists, rare and heartbreakingly good songs by your favorite artists, and obscure where-the-heck-did-these-guys-come-from's. I was intimidated because honestly, what could I tell you that you didn't already know?

Since then I had to do some dying and I disappeared and grew up and changed and oh man it's been a tough first year of college. Brian probably took me for dead.

But man, music's what's got me through. Music and I are in love again. Let me explain.

***

Coming into this year, my take on music veered far towards the corporate success end of the spectrum. I'd always seen myself one day becoming a pop star, and I thought music was only really good if it could sell. On a scale of 1 to Sell Out, I would've been a 12.

But then I started to see the light again. At first I found a false savior in Destroyer's Rubies (my only post!) and the Toronto rock scene. Which is cool, and I still love indie rock (especially Jens Lekman and the new Belle & Sebastian), but I don't pray to the altar of the rock Gods anymore. My true musical salvation came in a genre entirely new to me, a strange world of spaceships and dance floors. To extend the religious metaphor, I became a Scientologist.

Funk.

Funk has got to be one of the most stereotyped genres of anything that ever was. Two words: Undercover Brother. It's been so parodied that you'd be forgiven for never realizing that there is some quality, quality funk music out there.

And that's how I've come into the funk: I've dived in head first into an entire genre, knowing nothing but listening to everything, finding what I like. So for the experienced, this little (recurring!) feature will be nothing new, maybe even a bit embarrassing. All I know is I love this stuff, and I want to spread the love, and hopefully get educated a bit myself.

Funk is pure musical satisfaction. At it's best, it's catchy and fun but complex and damn that's deep!; the musicianship is tight and flawless and flashy too but all in service of the song and the groove; it's hilarious it's intense it's heavy it's soft it's clever it's it's it's it's it's ----- everything I was looking for.

Just sink your teeth into these tracks and next time we'll get right into it.

Parliament - Agony of DeFeet [mp3] [buy]

Brothers Johnson - Thunder Thumbs and Lightnin' Licks [mp3] [buy]

Zapp & Roger - It Doesn't Really Matter [mp3] [buy]

Heteronyms, vol. I

Heteronyms will become a recurring feature, I have decided, because there are many songs with the same name which are entirely unrelated. And, as you may know, I'm desperate for a feature.

Modest Mouse - Head South [mp3]

Isaac Brock is from Issaquah, Washington, a town nearby the old Tiger Mountain mines and home to the annual Salmon Days festival. He wears plaid shirts and curses, and is probably more than a little crazy, all of which combine to make him one hell of an artist. From the horse's mouth: "Here things go from grey to grey and back to grey again/ And they get green and go to grey and back to grey again," presumably regarding his Northwest hometown. But Brock won't head south to the "palm-tree scene," for that would be selling out. Many have accused his band of doing just that by signing to a major label and gracing airwaves with a ubiquitous summer hit, but they couldn't be more wrong. Brock has not only maintained, but improved upon his paranoid small-town temperament since this song appeared on 1996's This is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About, most notably with their flawless, alternately terrifying/comforting Epic debut. Unstable as Brock may be, he has thankfully remained fiercely unique and true to his winning aesthetic, keeping well North all these years.

Pretty Girls Make Graves - Head South [mp3]

"Head South" is a portrait of the artists as adolescent Girls, volatile and virulent. "You think I'm happy with the lies that you feed me?/ I'm unaware that you mistreat me?" shouts an Andrea Zollo much different but immediately recognizable. This at first seems standard hXc fare, but listen close and an early version of the inimitable guitarwork is there, making this a much more compelling listen than it would/should be.

Visit Modest Mouse online, buy This is a Long Drive for Someone with Nothing to Think About here.

Visit Pretty Girls Make Graves online, buy the Pretty Girls Make Graves EP here. Read my recent review of Élan Vital here.

Happy Fifth

I forgot - happy Cinco de Mayo, everyone! Though I guess there's still time for you Americans to celebrate. Tonight I did what I could to show my flatmates what it's all about, but without the help of the electric atmosphere I'm accustomed to it wasn't nearly the same. Regardless - the part I did manage to sell them on? Lily Allen. Mind you, these are real people, not indie hipkids, meaning my hyperbole is justified. Summer Jam Two-K-Six!!

Repost deserved:

Lily Allen - LDN [mp3]

I'm Sorry, Mr. Jones

Ben Folds Five - Cigarette [mp3]

Ben Folds - Fred Jones, Part II [mp3]

Eagle eyes among you might have noticed the Hot Links over on the sidebar, a collection of miscellany which offers an unfettered view into my non-indierockallthetime life. Indeed, there is baseball, sandwiches, guitar and writing, all listed lovingly, all essential. Perhaps most important are the four Hot Links pertaining to another love of my life: professional basketball. Anyone who follows the NBA knows the thrill of springtime and the postseason, a thrill which, since I am away from the country, I must follow electronically. Luckily for me, the 82-game season has allowed ample time to develop a morning-after routine effective in catching me up on the previous night's happenings. Wake up, check scores, read the dime, watch the clips, free Darko: five requisite steps to feeling able to face the pending day.

Naturally, as the season goes on and playoffs begin, each morning's report becomes increasingly important. I could wake up, as today, and find a favorite team's story has ended, leaving me scrambling over myself to find out why, Marc Stein, why? Okay, why, B. Shoals, why? Admittedly, I'm hardly ever clueless over an elimination. They often follow the path of reason and its seeds, of course neither of which dictate fandom. There's something magical, innocent, in honestly believing my baby Bulls could take down Miami's patronizing sense of inurgency (not a word). That an allegiance to a team, small and starless, could overcome a seven-foot, 325-pound wall and a seed five spots lower. My consolation? Next year (seriously).

It's different, though, following a series like Indiana-New Jersey. An interesting matchup which doesn't interest me, if that makes sense. I couldn't have predicted with any more than, say, 60% confidence that the Nets would win, because it seemed evenly matched from the outset. If I was a fan of either team, though, it would have been different. But I watched from a more removed position, aloof and analytical. That's why, in a series represented by nothing more than six box scores, the most interesting thing I was left with was a curious musical connection. Fred Jones scored zero points last night, was named today "Thursday's Worst." His Pacers were eliminated from contention, the lights were shut off in the Conseco Fieldhouse and the team left with heads bowed. Or at least that's how I imagine it. I also imagine a cold, institutional voice emanating from the locker room walls, saying, "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones, it's time." Just like what happened with the Fred Jones of Ben Folds lore. Fired, excused, whatever. It's too fitting. Okay, maybe the real Jones doesn't go home to a drugged wife and a burning house, but I imagine he's not feeling entirely different. Here's to Fred Jones, and irrelevancy, and the continued playoffs.

***

Want real magic? Check out the kids rapping at Said the Gramophone.

Child's Play

Young Rapture Choir - Magnetized (Laura Veirs) [mp3]

Laura Veirs - Magnetized [mp3]

Remember the Langley Schools Music Project? I doubt you pull Innocence and Despair out much anymore, but for a time it held a very real fascination. Sixty backwoods Canadian kids doing AM Gold in 1976, as endearing and slightly creepy as it sounds, highlighted (for me) by a small voice singing "Desperado." If it wasn't clear before, that song gave the album's title its significance, hearing such weariness from a perfect little person is certainly offsetting.

Listening to a chorus of French children sing Laura Veirs' "Magnetized," then, I couldn't help but compare to the Langley ensemble. Soon, though, it became clear that such analogizing wouldn't work. The Canadian kids were fascinating from a much more archaeological standpoint, representing a crossroads between pop culture, art, and history - something as otherworldly as it was relatable. The French kids, though, or rather the Young Rapture Choir, are more akin to the local elementary school's Spring Sing, albeit one featuring obscure and intensely personal songs in a foreign language. "Magnetized" is quintessential Veirs, all sparse picking and metaphors alluding to the geology of her dream world. It's a truly interesting, captivating take on the tried-and-true singer-songwriter gig, with Veirs' charmingly nuanced flights-of-fancy grounded in an abstract, scientific truth. Most pop songs deemed fit for kids' pipes are anthemic, overgeneralized pap, stuff sure not to offend bleachers of proud parents.

In this case, however, our Young Rapturers sing of being slain, lying in piles, hoping to be cast into eternal furnaces. And I wonder, do they have any idea what they're saying? Not just in the sense that English isn't their main language, but in the sense that perhaps only Veirs can interpret a song this idiosyncratic. It's precisely this unknown that makes for an interesting listen, lending a peculiar weight to these tiny, breathy voices. Maybe i'm investing too much importance in what's meant to be no more than a sing-along, but I'd like to think I've touched on something real, as we all did with the Langley Schools Project, if not to the same extent. But even if it's not what I've made it out to be, it's still cute to hear little French girls sing a favorite song.

Bonus:

Young Rapture Choir - Cannon Fodder (Laura Veirs) [mp3]

J Samson (Weakerthans) and the Winnipeg Mennonite Children's Choir - On a Beautiful Day [mp3]

Visit Laura Veirs online, buy her magnificent Year Of Meteors here.

Elan Vital

The New Romance marked quite an achievement for Pretty Girls Make Graves, a most impressive leap from Good Health's notable punk to a strikingly more complex and focused sound on their second album. The problem, then, is what to expect next. Following their growth trajectory would seem nearly impossible, and really - would those expectations be justified? In this case predicting a classic third album would be just as fair as predicting a worse one, or even better, something altogether different. Personally, I wished for the band to continue exploring the sonic possibilities afforded by their remarkable musicianship. Take those angles, sharpen some and stretch others, work them around singer Andrea Zollo's compelling melodies. Unfortunately, in the interim guitarist Nathan Thelen left the band, rendering moot their incredibly effective and equally promising dual-axe approach. Perhaps this is why on Élan Vital the Pretty Girls sound different, though after listening it never seems they've gone anywhere. Urgency, that most riveting of muses and until now the band's calling card, is largely absent on this album, though not for lack of trying. Really, truly, I think it's the missing guitar. They brought in a keyboard, though it only seems to accomplish the opposite: establishing a groove where a ridge would fit much better. What results is interesting and often good, like mixing entirely different flavors discovering an edible outcome. But, as is often the case, they fare much better on their own. Take "Domino," which has the potential to make you move, with its electric piano-and-drum opening. Minutes later, ill-fitting guitar laserwork intrudes for an irrelevant solo. Much better is "Pictures of a Night Scene," a cool, dark number driven by thumping bass and well-implemented piano. It's unmistakably Pretty Girls, urgent and imminently listenable, but viewed from an entirely new angle. No virtuoso guitar and no soaring vocals, only that incessant drum, paranoid hi-hat tics and a skittering sax. Similarly impressive is "Parade,"an anthem making good use of new girl Leona Mars and an unforgettable melody. "We walked so far/ But we can't walk all night," they ring in unison, cutting directly to the listener's ear in a way distinctly Pretty Girls. The rest of the album? It's not hit-or-miss, but mostly a uniform, decent-good quality. I listen and enjoy, but feel compelled to gripe when the evidence for a more spectacular sound is so plain in the songs. I guess that's why I haven't lost a shred of faith in this band, that they'll come around strong and hit us with something amazing.

Pretty Girls Make Graves - Parade [mp3]

Pretty Girls Make Graves - Pictures of a Night Scene [mp3]

Visit Pretty Girls Make Graves online. Buy Élan Vital here.

Summer Here Kids

I was going to write about something else today, something totally different. But, ha, not a chance anymore.

Lily Allen - LDN [mp3]

I've spent much of the last week outside, basking as if I were anywhere but 53 degrees north. I bring a book, but that's just a formality. Instead I sit, absolutely contented, watching the goings-on of the footballs and the frisbees, unpacking a lunch. "Sun is in the sky/ Oh why, oh why would I wanna be anywhere else?" asks Lily Allen, an obvious kindred spirit. In "LDN," she has made the song of the summer. Or, Song Of The Summer, as that can only refer to a single track (and you were thinking "Crazy"!). What I mean to say is that everybody will like it, far beyond the hipkids and blogodrome buzz, to borrow from Rowland. Music this breezy seems to have trouble escaping mindlessness, and by extension, remaining engaging on even the slightest level. That, or its quirkiness proves too hard to overcome, lessening its universal appeal. "LDN," though, gets it just right. There are happy horns all round, a sun-drenched melody for the ages, a lilt dangerously close to a trip. Make no mistake: it aims to sound like summertime, and succeeds brilliantly. Take the lyrics, and the fact that they can either be considered or discarded, without detriment to the song. Curiously insidious, lines about bludgeoning an old lady and "pimps and crack-whores" illustrate Allen's assertion that "If you look with your eyes/ Everything seems nice/ But if you look twice/ You can see it's all lies." More than her delivery, perhaps it's verses like these which have drawn Allen comparisons to rap. But let's not forget that this is the Song Of The Summer. It will be playing in backyards at warm nighttime parties to crowds incapable of and unwilling to consider its lyrical motives. Crowds that respond, with good reason, to lines about sunshine which are easily recalled and similarly easy to sing along to. So get it now, enjoy it however, whenever you like - I most definitely already am.

Much thanks to Ear Farm for this song.

Visit Lily Allen online.

(We Want) Better Video

Nothing makes me more upset than this!! I can't watch Regina Spektor's new video for "Better" because Windows Media Player doesn't work correctly. Somebody please put it on YouTube, please. Please!

Watch Regina Spektor's "Better" video, tell me if it's any good.

At least I can watch this heartwarming home video set to "Us." Aww!

Regina Spektor - Us (MC DJ Remix) [mp3]

Buy Begin To Hope when it hits stores June 13. And catch her that night on Conan!

Speaking of remixes, All Things Feist has a bunch of good ones not featured on Open Season.

Feist - Gatekeeper (DoRight Remix) [mp3]

Buy Open Season here!

Pretty Theft

Somebody stole the Walkmen's gourd last night in Boston, and they're not happy. Turn yourself in, thief, and get a chance to play the gourd with them on stage next time they're in Boston. You'll of course be added to the guestlist along with a friend, and they'll throw in two Amstel Lights while they're at it. Check their special news page for details.

signed,

GO TO HELL
-THE WALKMEN

Funny stuff.

I Need Sunshine

[image credit Photojunkie]

Anxiety has me scattered and frustrated lately, with a hideous five-in-eight-days stretch of final exams set to begin within a week. I can't sit still, I can't produce anything, and I'm generally feeling crazy. I realized, then, that it was no coincidence the three bands I listened to repeatedly yesterday were Arcade Fire, Constantines and Wolf Parade - a telling Canadian troika if ever one existed. Now, the nation's indie-rock renaissance has been chronicled exhaustively, but let me quickly express my gratitude for the aforementioned three artists.

While these bands have obvious sonic differences, they share a remarkably similar (dare I say Canadian?) mentality. One may jangle and another may rumble, but there is a deep and intense underlying concern in the music of all three. Never has catharsis sounded so good or so believable as in Funeral, and never has an intensity maintained such force as in Tournament Of Hearts. And really, the heart is the metaphor here, the varied music tethered by the instinct associated with the vital organ's beating and bleeding. To wit: the Constantines are romantics forever on edge, Wolf Parade is upset and disarranged ("This Heart's On Fire" says it all), and Arcade Fire is simply unsettled. While this certainly isn't unique to Canadian bands, I don't think anyone displays their uneasiness better, with more captivation or passion. Less abstract than Sufjan's musing and broader than Okkervil's Black Sheep Boy, the only American counterpart that springs to mind is The Moon And Antarctica. I know, these artists (and an entire nation) are big names to throw around, but my point is that I'm glad. I'm glad such moving, relatable music is being made right now and I'm glad it's being recognized. It's exciting, and in a way it's essential. I'll stop rambling and give you some music from these three groups as well as some Wolf Parade-related songs you may not have heard yet.

Constantines - Working Full-Time [mp3]

Constantines - Soon Enough [mp3]

Arcade Fire - Neighborhood #3 (Power Out) [mp3]

Wolf Parade - A Day in the Life (Atlas Strategic cover) [mp3]

Sunset Rubdown - I'll Believe in Anything, You'll Believe in Anything (Piano version) [mp3]

Sunset Rubdown - You Are A Runner [mp3]

Handsome Furs (Dan Boekner) - Dumb Animals [mp3]

Dante DeCaro (Johnny and the Moon) - Shawnigan Lake Blues [mp3]

These tracks are available at this excellent Wolf Parade site. Buy Wolf Parade here, Sunset Rubdown here, Constantines here, and Arcade Fire here.

The Runout Groove has some more Tournament Of Hearts for you.

***

The fifth Contrast Podcast is up now, this week's theme being color. The closer? Yours truly. Like Gagne if he wasn't always hurt. Check it out.