i just wasn't made for these times

6' 1"

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Thu, 28 Aug 2008 06:13:18 -0400

I've got another full day today, so yinz will have to draw your own conclusions for this one, too. I will say that maybe I would have picked a different song if I wasn't going to see Liz perform Exile in Guyville this evening. Maybe.

Liz Phair - 6' 1"

[UPDATE: Thirty-five-year-olds are not supposed to still have crushes, but I don't care. The 'sheer black tank-top with track pants and heels' look isn't for everybody, but Liz manages to pull it off. She's just a hero in a long line of heroes.]

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lump sum

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Thu, 31 Jul 2008 20:09:39 -0400

My favorite record of the year (thus far) is the debut - at least under his current moniker, Bon Iver - by Wisconsinite Justin Vernon. I had an opportunity to see Bon Iver several months ago, not long after the album's indie-label release. But I'm moody and difficult, and I decided on the day of the show that trekking way out of the way to the Rock and Roll Hotel would be less satisfying than going home to be alone in my dismal apartment. The record had just come out and he'd certainly be coming through town again fairly soon. I'd catch him the next time around.

So, I've been aware for a while that Bon Iver would be bringing his particular brand of melancholy indie-folk to the far more accessible Black Cat tomorrow night. I'd like to blame my hesitation to purchase a ticket on practicality. It's true that I need to be in Nokesville, Virginia by seven o'clock Saturday morning for a fifty mile bike ride. It's also true that the Black Cat's tendency to begin its shows fairly late (the first of two opening acts is to take the stage at nine) gave me some initial pause. But the real reason I find myself without a ticket is good old-fashioned forgetfulness.

It was on a fall-season concert ticket buying spree last week that I learned that the Bon Iver show was now sold out. I've debated since then about what to do. I'd like to see the show. And yes, the next day would be unpleasant, but it's hardly the first time I'd ever have to ride on little sleep. On the other hand, procuring a ticket at this late stage seems improbable. The Black Cat is much smaller than the 9:30 Club, and not once have I ever encountered anybody hawking unwanted tickets at the door. But sure enough, as the likelihood of actually finding an available ticket decreased, my interest grew. Finally, yesterday, after a week of contemplation, I decided I probably ought to at least check Craigslist to see what was available. I could cope with the ride when the time came; I'd been waiting five months for this show.

So, needless to say, it comes as a bit of a disappointment to find nobody offering tickets and - as of now - fifteen people seeking tickets. And many of these fans are driving hard bargains. For example, there is (presumably) a woman who is offering double face value plus a glimpse of her rack. How am I supposed to compete with that? There's no way I can compete with that. I mean, sure, I'm willing to match her offer, but no one wants to see my tits. Chicks get all the breaks.

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for emma, an hour ago

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Wed, 30 Jul 2008 12:53:39 -0400

Went to see Big Country. Didn't play "Big Country." Balls. Pure balls.

she was drinking whiskey sours at the bar

Oh sure, I could bitch and moan about the set list. They didn't play "Salome." They didn't play "Melt Show." They didn't play "Wish the Worst" or "Doreen" or "Four Leaf Clover." On the other hand, they spared us "Victoria," which I ordinarily wouldn't mind, but I don't need to be reminded every single time that it's about a girl from DC. And they played "The Other Shoe" and "Over the Cliff" and "If My Heart Was a Car" - none of which I believe I have ever seen live before. And they also played "Stoned" which I think I'd only seen once - the first time I saw them almost ten years ago.

I found myself wishing more than once tonight that I could go back and see the Old 97's again for the first time. But then I remembered that I wouldn't be able to sing along with all the songs and I got over it. Tonight's was the best and rockingest 97's show I've seen in a few years, and they've never been slouches about showing up to play. That paragon of music criticism - the Onion AV Club - said of their most recent record that they seem content to churn out decent enough studio material and make up the difference with their ass-kicking live sets. I'm totally okay with that.

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it's not big, it's large

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Wed, 02 Jul 2008 20:43:11 -0400

We all know that concerts at outdoor venues totally suck ass. But we also all know that Lyle Lovett is one of the coolest motherfuckers who has ever lived. And on a night like tonight - currently still eighty degrees with low humidity in the cloudless and waning sunlight - an excursion to Wolftrap to see Lyle Lovett and his Large Band sounds like not quite the worst idea in the world. Granted, the venue is inherently inferior to the 9:30 Club (or more appropriately in this case - the Birchmere), but we won't deny that the notion of pretending we aren't sitting in the dirt while surrounded by a horde of mouth-breathing half-wits as a miniscule Lyle Lovett and his teeny Large Band perform their particular brand of wry adult-contemporary music several hundred yards away sounds like it could be moderately pleasant. You know, given the proper mindset. I can certainly see how some people might enjoy that. I'm an optimist that way.

None of that applies to me, though, because I am a total deadbeat who allows work to interfere with everything. Not that I couldn't have gone at all, mind you. But I've been so focused on other things that I completely forgot about the show until it was too late, even with a reminder from Emma last week. On the upside, I guess, Lyle will be back through town next year - just like always. Of course, with my luck his '09 show will be scheduled for mid-August and it will be a hundred and five degrees in the shade with ninety percent humidity. Good times. I can hardly wait.

Her First Mistake

Lyle Lovett

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name that tune

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Wed, 18 Jun 2008 06:44:27 -0400

The Instructions:

Set your music player to shuffle.
List the first line from the first 25 songs that play.

The Lyrics:

I married my wife on the day of the eclipse ...

Gonna write a little letter, gonna mail it to my local DJ ...

Dare a smile ...

I have lost the one I love to someone else ...

I love you, Mama, you sweet ...

Sometimes I don't get you ....

Hey, wake up, your eyes weren't open wide ...

I took her on a simple trip to see her husband's family ...

Broken chairs your body conforms to ...

A New Jersey lady I knew long ago, and she was a lady I say ...

Father may I go so slowly in my own dreams ...

Walking out in the freezing rain ...

If you'll take me back, back to your place ...

I never meant 2 cause U any sorrow ...

Tattoo parlor man's havin' a terrible fight ...

He lost his mind today ...

The plan keeps coming up again ...

Spanish songs in Andalucia, the shooting sites in the days of '39 ...

He was ready for the big trip, he was moving to the city ...

I may say that I don't care, hold my head up in the air ...

Gonna take a freight train, down at the station, Lord ...

Tremor of light, the sky a porcelain wall ...

It's Lisa or Laura, I know not her real name ...

When I first met Doreen she was barely seventeen ...

The wild boys are calling on their way back from the fire ...

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sturm und twang

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 20:53:08 -0400

Anybody who's even halfway been paying attention around here knows I enjoy the music of the Old 97's. They don't do anything groundbreaking, but that's okay. Not every band has to change popular music, and there's nothing wrong with liking those that don't. I realize this is an awkward concept for the post-ironic hipsters to grasp, but if more of them were as enlightened as I, the world would be a much happier place. We'd immediately eliminate a ton of pointless bickering. Jodi wouldn't have to pretend that the Replacements have some sort of continuing influential legacy. Dabysan wouldn't mistakenly use words like "vital" and "important" when describing the Libertines. U2's entire fan base would cease to exist. The Old 97's craft airtight pop songs and rock the shit out of them in their live show. Like I said, it's not groundbreaking, but it really is enough. Not everybody gets to be an astronaut when they grow up.

So yeah, I dig the Old 97's. But the irony is that I haven't immediately liked a single one of their records since Too Far to Care, probably not coincidentally the first one I bought. Their newest release - Blame It On Gravity - is no different, and like most of the others, I've come around (so to speak) in the three weeks I have spent with it. I can quibble with details like the Killers-esque vocal effects on the lead single "Dance With Me," but I can't argue that its menacing surf-rock vibe would be out of place on their sophomore record (and second-best effort), Wreck Your Life. The other, this time lilting, beach-flavored tune "She Loves the Sunset" reminds me of "Dancing With Tears" off of their debut. In short, they really have gone back to their roots and turned up the amps a bit. I guess what bothered me most initially about this record was that it's a departure from the Kinks-inspired pop sensibility of their later work to which I'd grown accustomed.

One of the reviews I read recently described Rhett Miller's lyrics as having "one foot in the bar and one foot in the library." I won't deny that I wish that foot was still planted a little bit more firmly in the bar these days, but then Rhett's basically the same age as me and my foot isn't in the bar as much as it used to be either. There are still more than a few great lyrics that seem simple until you realize you never thought of them. ("You've got to be a fool to be a fool in love.") Ken remains a solid journeyman guitarist, despite some highly unfortunate facial hair. Philip is the Old 97s' secret weapon; he's got that Johnny Cash freight train drum beat down cold, and the record doesn't really begin until his drum fills a minute into the opening track. His work is so solid that I won't even complain that his part on the rocker "Early Morning" is recycled from "Four Leaf Clover." Murry's songs are, however, unfortunately and disappointingly sub-par and his bouncy bass line on "Ride" makes me think the song would be better suited for Rhett's next solo outing, but his backing vocals are - as always - exquisite. If Philip is secret weapon number one, Murry and his harmony vox are a very close second.

Blame It On Gravity is by no means a perfect record, but then it's probably too much to ask any band to deliver more than one perfect record in their career. An outing like Too Far to Care - to say nothing of the aforementioned kick-ass live show - is enough to buy a lifetime of credibility. The Old 97's cashed in on some of that credibility over the past six years, but it's nice to see - and hear - them try to recapture some of what made them so interesting in the first place.

Here's To The Halcyon

Old 97's

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ydnar described eternity

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Wed, 28 May 2008 21:31:51 -0400

I'll be honest: yesterday's post was mostly filler. I was marking time and padding the archives on the way to this post - post #504, for those keeping track at home - which was to be my review of the new Old 97's record Blame It On Gravity. This confluence would have amused me. (And only me, because I hadn't planned to mention it and I highly doubt even the other Old 97's fans among us would have registered the tenuous reference without some sort of cue. Never let it be said I am not a huge nerd.) But I find today there are more pressing matters.

The last few times Built to Spill has been through town, I've bailed on the shows. I'm not proud of this. I'm not especially sorry either, but still I am not proud. That sort of behavior is mostly inexcusable regarding a beloved band. However, I don't feel it's entirely unjustified. One of the things I appreciate about Built to Spill in general and Doug Martsch in particular is their/his embrace of 1970's arena rock. But it's one thing to name-check Neil Young; it's quite another to perform twenty minute covers of "Cortez the Killer." Doug has become sort of an indie-rock guitar god - and rightly so - but I still don't care to stand through eons of wankery.

That said, there ain't nothing - and I mean nothing - that will keep me away from the 9:30 Club on September 23 of this year, when BtS is slated to perform in its entirety their masterpiece (and desert island record) Perfect From Now On. I might even consider going to Baltimore to see them the following evening. I mean, they're bringing the cellist with them on tour. I haven't seen them perform with a cellist since they opened for Superchunk at the Black Cat back in '95. And yes, I am fully aware that last sentence makes me sound at least thirty-aught-six years old.

And since I let the cat out of the bag, here's that tangentially relevant Old 97's song.

504

Old 97's

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here comes a regular

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Mon, 19 May 2008 15:09:35 -0400

Pitchfork: Even to this day, when somebody says a band is influenced by the Replacements, often times they're just talking about alcohol intake. Certainly, no other bands sound quite like the Replacements.

PW: Yeah. It's the label they put on you if you don't come up with one. The bands we toured with-- R.E.M., every band I ever knew-- drank and took their share of substances. They just weren't known for it. I guess we were the first-- Christ, we weren't the first band to get up there loaded.

There you have it. Proof - once and for all - of the Replacements' legacy in the musical pantheon. The interviewer suggests that they're famous primarily for ingesting intoxicants. Paul agrees, then mentions that they were hardly pioneers in that realm either. Children by the millions sing for Alex Chilton. THERE'S a guy who was influential.

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introducing: the vault

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 21:45:23 -0400

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.

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this is not what i had planned

nobody@vox.com(hotrod) — Tue, 22 Apr 2008 23:04:10 -0400

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?

The Wrens - Boys, You Won't

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