Look, it's time we came to an understanding. Yinz all know by now that the greatest motion picture ever made by a human being is set to drop this summer. So to make a long story short, every time Chris Nolan so much as sneezes between now and July 18th, our crack staff at hotrod.vox.com is going to report it. There's no need to thank us; it's the least we can do. We're givers.
I have more CD's than ninety-nine percent of America but fewer CD's than forty percent of my friends. Those aren't my words; Chuck Klosterman wrote them in Killing Yourself to Live. And I'm not sure I even identify with them. I mean... except for Soo, I suspect I actually do have more CD's than most of my friends.
I've given discs away, but I have never sold any back to any record store. I find it dishonest, in a way, to purge one's collection. Anyone and everyone can sift through the strata of my collection and formulate any hypothesis they wish about my musical development from the fossil record. My standard response will be that Jesus placed those incriminating discs in my library to test the faith of the believers (or non-believers; I'm not really sure how that concept is supposed to work), but we all know that I - like everyone else - used to listen to some seriously uncool music. As I've grown older, I have found this policy has - perhaps unfortunately - influenced my buying habits. I'm less tolerant now than I used to be of the more flash-in-the-pan bands (See: The Fratellis. See also: everything else to which Dabysan listens.) that come down the pike. But I still have plenty of older material that rarely, if ever, finds its way into my rotation. I can hardly be blamed. Hell, there are records I truly love that I forget about if I go a few weeks without listening.
So with that we begin a musical odyssey, of sorts - an exploration of my back catalog; a re-visitation of those discs which haven't been spun in years. Here's how it works: I pick a CD early in the week and give it four or five serious listens. And then I post a completely objective and unbiased review on a day to be determined by whenever I get around to posting my first installment. Hopefully, that will be Thursday. Thursdays are a good day for a regular feature. I think we'll get things started this week with the Replacements' craptacular debut Sorry Ma, Forgot to Take Out the Trash. Like I said, objective and unbiased. Totally.
The Commissioner of my fantasy football league is a total deadbeat. The season ended over four months ago, and I have yet to receive my prize money. Just yesterday, I received my long-overdue trophy. And my anger is only partly assuaged by the handsomeness of the award. It now occupies that slot on my bookshelf which was once filled by that totem of Karaoke excellence: Lord Ramsey's Cup. As I have reluctantly accepted the fact I will never again hoist in glory the Ramsey Cup, I guess I will just have to win this award next year (and the year after (and the year after)) in order to reaffirm to myself my excellence and my superiority over my peers. It will probably eventually be named in my honor. The Hotrod Trophy has a nice ring to it.
Batman is cooler than Superman (or Spiderman), Exhibit #12,647
I screwed up. There, I said it. I know what you're thinking, but there's a first time for everything. There was a grave oversight in the "desert island record" list I posted a week and a half ago. And was reminded of such this evening by a song M-----l posted. I don't know how I overlooked the Wrens' "Meadowlands" CD, but I did. And it belongs on my island. I have edited the post accordingly. Suck it, Uncle Tupelo.
I'm not so much a fan of homemade videos (let's be honest - most of them blow), but the band seems to like them. So who am I to disagree?
This past week most certainly did not go as we had anticipated. After several weeks of near-constant scrambling down at the lab, we thought on Monday we might actually be able to relax a little. As it happened, this was our busiest week in a while and we didn't have any time even to manage the ol' blog. On behalf of the entire staff of hotrod.vox.com, we apologize and offer an overdue and abbreviated glimpse of the week that could have been.
hotrod's birthday (observed): Many, many thanks are due the organizer and attendees of our birthday festivities, which transpired Sunday evening. Our official birthday is in September, but we didn't celebrate then. We never do. It usually takes people about six months to remember that they missed it.
challenged: The New Pornographers played two sold out shows at the 9:30 Club this week. We didn't attend either performance, but we did read with some glee the interview with Carl Newman in which he stated that DC is the best town for music but that despite that fact the New Pornos always play shitty shows here. And that he's a hack. Get your shit together, Post Express. We already knew all that.
mum's the word: Some losers at our college started a movement (of sorts) to paint their fingernails red on the first anniversary of the Virginia Tech massacre as a way to honor the victims. For the record, Virginia Tech's colors are orange and puce. We suspect these guys were just looking for an excuse to wear nail polish.
holy shit: The Pope seriously fucked up our morning commute.
hungry heart: Danny Federici - multi-instrumentalist and original member of the E Street Band - died this week. Rest in peace, and cue the video.
seven-inch: Today is Record Store Day, so get out there and buy some CD's from somebody in your neighborhood. Steve Jobs is killing music. He's evil incarnate. And we realize this item could have stood on its own now that we've got some time. But fuck it, we're on a roll.
This certainly isn't a list of the best CD's I own, and I wouldn't even call it a list of my favorite CD's. (Though there is some overlap here with that second category.) I've had this mental list going for several years now, but this is the first time I've written it down. Some discs are firmly ensconced and have been for years. One was added just this morning, when I realized I listed to it approximately seven hundred times or so in 2007 and still have yet to grow tired of it. So tough titties, Steve McQue- Lyle Lovett. Maybe if you'd omitted that stupid song about how great it is to be from Texas, you wouldn't have gotten bumped.
The Coast Is Never Clear Beulah
Workers Playtime Billy Bragg
Perfect From Now On Built to Spill
Fox Confessor Brings The Flood Neko Case
Ocean Songs Dirty Three
In The Aeroplane Over The Sea Neutral Milk Hotel
Too Far To Care Old 97's
Exile In Guyville Liz Phair
Badlands: A Tribute To Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska Various Artists
Strangers Almanac Whiskeytown
The Meadowlands The Wrens
Let me be clear, here: I don't really have anything against Hillary, except that she's clearly the second best candidate this year. I'd have been thrilled if she had run four years ago, but she still pales in comparison with Barack Obama. And despite her reluctance to concede that she's all but lost the nomination, I haven't been angry with her, per se - just a bit annoyed. Until now. It's one thing to besmirch the democratic process. It's quite another to sully the reputation of the greatest franchise in the history of professional sports. Don't tread on me.
In other sports news, the Colorado Rockies are dead to me:
This makes a lot of sense, because the first thing that comes to most peoples' minds when they hear the word "rocktober" is baseball. And the second thing is some historically shitty expansion team who happened to mount an impressive run at the end of last season. Needless to say, I won't be honoring this bullshit trademark. Now I just have to find a way to make some dough from the word.DENVER - The team's tight-lipped quest to "own" Rocktober is closer to completion after a key approval from the United States Patent and Trademark Office.
The Colorado Rockies Baseball Club, a corporation, filed four separate requests last October, seeking to lock up the right to use the word "Rocktober." The application is currently "published for opposition," providing a one-month period for challenges to the trademark. That window ends on April 25.
This may shock you, but a lot of people in the highly cosmopolitan city of Picksburgh, Pennsylvania like to drink beer. Sometimes, these distinguished urbanites even imbibe to excess. I know! Just like ordinary people - people like you and me! I'm stunned too. Anyway, it seems beloved local icon - celebrity, even - Steely McBeam is one of those jolly drunkards. The poor guy was minding his own business, operating a motor vehicle down Carson Street on the South Side with a mere .173 blood alcohol level when he was hassled by the Man. And now he's been fired. There's no justice in this world.
