Nowak Attack

3 Recent Albums I Feel You Should Listen To. (Not very current EDITION)

2011-11-30T13:50:00.000-08:00

Deep:

The Reigning Sound Time Bomb High School

I've yet to make head or tails out of this one. Recently I got a hold of this after Scion and The A.V. Club released The Reigning Sound's newest album. From reviews that I read it was as bold as to imply that this was an album for those with severe White Stripes deficiencies; to which I reply "bullshit". Time Bomb High School does indeed constitute garage rock, but this is where I feel that people try and reel it in. Not all garage rock is The White Stripes, and not all of The White Stripes is garage rock. TBHS has got a 50s pop kick to it (as the title would imply), and I feel it leans it closer to King Khan & the Shrines and BBQ. But that's okay because in between it travels to places like classic rock and perhaps even country rock.

Deeper:

Radar Brothers The Singing Hachet

I suppose the best way to preface this is to say that this was suggested to me by a total stranger at a bar. He was the kind of man who had years of devoted music love in his character, and he was also completely hammered. Austin, Texas I suppose enables this in a lot people (mainly because everyone understands an elevated difference between an obscure reference and a piece of common knowledge). Anyways, he struck me as the kind of man who had a copy of In the Aeroplane Over the Sea before his friends, and my assumption was it was a vinyl copy. It was a man I could respect even through his slurred speech and confident speaking. I'm straying toward ambiguity in describing The Singing Hachet because I too did not know what to expect when my girlfriend and I started listening to it later that night.
I will say that my interest in 90s lo-fi is close to zero, with the occasional grand exception, and this is one of those exception.

Too Deep:

Love Forever Changes

Recently I finally bought my first book in the 33 1/3 series, which happened to be a compilation of excerpts from many of the books, and this was the only album I had yet to ever hear of (mainly because in my parental reference as a child hovered between James Taylor, Pink Floyd, and Garth Brooks). Hear the rainbow, taste the rainbow. Firstly, this sound like Pet Sounds on acid. But Nowak Attack, Pet Sounds already sounds like it's on acid? True, but this is truly a hodgepodge of sounds. Where it goes differently is that stays strictly melodic. I could turn this album on and hear one genre, go get a cup of tea, come back, and then I would forget completely what album I was listening to. Sometimes it's The Doors, and sometimes it sound like Dusty Springfield, yet it doesn't miss a beat. If you stay with it for the hour-fifteen it streches, you won't veer off-track. But it's like Sigur Ros that way. Don't go anywhere, just shut up and listen.

Nowak-cember is around the corner

2011-11-30T13:12:00.000-08:00

and by around the corner, I mean the end of this week.

I'll be heading back to the motherland (Washington, which in many ways feels like Soviet Russia during the wintertime). I've spent so much time ingesting music this year that I feel compentent enough to dedicate the full month to year-end lists.

Mind you I won't start most until mid-December because, really, I won't make major assessments until the new Black Keys album is out. No, I'm serious.

That means:

-The Foxes 2011 (maybe)

-Honorable mentions 2011

-Biggest Disappointments 2011

-The Nowies 2011

-ALSO:

Best podcasts 2011
Best reissues 2011
Best EPs

The Questionable Defense of Fast Five and How it Relates to the Genre

2011-11-13T01:20:00.000-08:00

Several months ago the internet told me that Fast Five, the fifth installment to the Fast and Furious franchise. Since then, time has stewed. The A.V. Club at the time of its release gave it an "B+", which was the overall dissent of the movie community. The rationale behind this was simply that it was more self-indulgent than previous Fast and Furious creations. This was positively true. The film was by all means bombastic. At one point Vin Diesel uses a bank safe as a mace to knock police cruisers off of the road.

Now I'm going to be a dick and compare it to Bullitt, perhaps the best domestic action film of the last century. There's little difference on the surface of either of these films; both films contain the use of American manufactured cars chasing each other incessantly through crowded streets. The patriarchal roles are fulfilled, and protagonists take place. How is it then that both are minimalists and yet the simpler succeeds (Bullitt).

For one, Steve McQueen.

For two, the sincerity. While Fast Five utilizes little dialogue, it's framing attempts to hold up a plot with little going.

The same reason Westerns and Samurai films integrates a emcompassing a huge storyline. Since moving to Austin, I've spent a lot of time analyzing the structure of most of these films. Whether it's Ocean's 11, The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, or Star Wars, they consist of lost of things to happen to build up. Yet, the elements are indulgent. It allows for much to create substance, thus making a full picture to be painted, interweaving everyone so that the finish creates an even better conclusion.

Fast Five appears to throw out most of the other story lines from past installments (to be honest I've only seen all the first one once and the second one half way through), makes it easygoing from the start, and strips it down to the formulaic basics.

I remember a news story about a month ago about a woman who sued (I'm not exactly sure who the defendant would be in this case) because the advertising to the movie Drive made it appear to be too much like Fast Five. This is confusing because both maintain the same integrity in story-structure (albeit, watered-down for easier consumption).

And perhaps this might just be me, but honestly over-the-top action sequences rarely hook me anymore. The literal suspense is more exciting on an emotional level than what Fast Five threw at me.

The point I'm making here is that indulgence does not mix with emotion. In fact, perhaps the opposite. Public dissent gave a lot of slack to this movie, but I still don't accept that when it remains indulgent.

This is a polarity that I wish was more prevalent. Between pop music and music, between reality television and Mad Men. I feel if we took the time to really separate the two, both could be held to different standards. It seems instead that this facilitates the idea of pretentious.

My suggestion would be to separate the cream from the milk in a better fashion. What that method would be, I'm not quite sure. But it's the fact that we haven't created a category for indulgence properly, and thus it becomes a dick move to compare Fast Five and Bullitt in the same conversation (although admittedly one-sided).

Rock N Roll gave us the birth of a popular, modern, American music, but it also gave us Nickelback.

Analysis:

2011-11-09T13:28:00.000-08:00

I finally finished The Grapes of Wrath for the first time. Yet, not once in my public education was this suggested to me. In a time with such strange dissent in this country, I felt it more applicable to modern day than ever before. Perhaps not to such a scale as depicted in this book. Regardless, by far my favorite except:

"The squatters nodded - they knew, God knew. If they could only rotate the crops they might pump blood back into the land.
Well, it's too late. And the owner men explained the workings and the thinkings of the monster that was stronger than they were. A man can hold land if he can just eat and pay taxes; he can do that.
Yes, he can do that until his crops fail one day and he has to borrow money from the bank.
But you see, a bank or a company can't do that, because those creatures don't breathe air, don't eat side-meat. They breathe profits; they eat the interest on money. If they don't get it, they die the way you die without air, without side-meat. It is a sad thing, but it is so. it is just so.
The squatting men raised their eyes to understand. Can't we just hang on? Maybe the next year will be a good year. God knows how much cotton next year. And with all the wars -- God knows what price cotton will bring. Don't they make explosives out of cotton? And uniforms? Get enough wars and cotton'll hit the ceiling. Next year, maybe. They looked up questioningly.
We can't depend on it. the bank--the monster has to have profits all the time. It can't wait. It'll die. No, taxes go on. When the monster stops growing, it dies. It can't stay one size.
Soft fingers began o tap the sill of the car window, and hard fingers tightened on the restless drawing sticks. In the doorways of the sun-beaten tenant houses, women sighed and then shifted feet so that the one that had been down was now on top, and the toes working. Dogs came sniffing near the owner cars and wetted on all four ties one after another. And chickens lay in the sunny dust and fluffed their feathers to get the cleansing dust down to the skin. In the little sties the pigs grunted inquiringly over the muddy remnants of the slops.
The squatting men looked down again. What do you want us to do? We can't take less share of the crop--we're half starved now. The kids are hungry all the time. We got no clothes, torn an'ragged. If all the neighbors weren't the same, we'd be ashamed to go to meeting.
And at last the owner men came to the point. The tenants system won't work any more. One man on a tractor can take the place of twelve or fourteen families. Pay him a wage and take all the crop. We have to do it. We don't like to do it. But the monster's sick. Something's happened to the monster.
But you'll kill the land with cotton.
We know. We've got to take cotton quick before the land dies. Then we'll sell the land. The plows'll go through the dooryard.
And now the squatting men stood up angrily. Grampa took up the land, and he to kill the Indians and drive them away. And Pa was born here, and he killed weeds and snakes. Then a bad year came and he had to borrow a little money. An' we was born here. There in the door--our children born here. And Pa had to borrow money. The bank owned the land then, but we stayed and we got a little bit of what we raised.
We know that--all that. It's not us, it's the bank. A bank isn't like a man. OR an owner with fifty thousand acres, he isn't like a man either. That's the monster.
Sure, cried the tenant men, but it's our land. We measured it and broke it up. We were born on it and we got killed on it. Even if it's no good, it's still ours. That's what makes it ours--being born on it, working it, dying on it. That makes ownership, not a paper with numbers on it.
We're sorry. It's not us. It's the monster. The bank isn't like a man.
Yes, but the bank is only made of men.
No, you're wrong there. The bank is something else than men. It happens that every man in a bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it. The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It's the monster. Men made it, but they can't control it.
The tenant cried, Grampa killed Indians, Pa killed snakes for the land. Maybe we can kill banks--they're worse than Indians and snakes. Maybe we got to fight to keep our land, like Pa and Grampa did.
And now the owner men grew angry. You'll have to go.
But it's our, the tenant men cried. We----
No. The bank, the monster owns it. You'll have to go.
We'll get our guns, like Grampa when the Indians came. What then?
Well--first the sheriff, and then the troops. You'll be stealing if you try to stay, you'll be murderers if you kill to stay. The monster isn't men, but it can make men do what it wants.
But if we go, where'll we go? How'll we go? we got no money.
We're sorry, said the owner men. The bank, the fifty-thousand-acre owner can't be responsible. You're on land that isn't yours. Once over the line maybe you can pick cotton in the fall. Maybe you can go on relief. Why don't you go on west to California? There's work there, and it never gets gold. Why, there's always some kind of crop to work in. Why don't you go there? And the owner men started their cars and rolled away."

-John Steinbeck; The Grapes of Wrath

3 Recent Albums I Feel You Should Listen To.

2011-10-30T15:51:00.000-07:00

Deep:

Blitzen Trapper American Goldwing

This music feels amply appropriate for any venture the more agrarian-natured areas of the world. It's strange to hear something that has almost nothing to do with classic rock, yet it sticks a strange landing. Veering off-track listening at times I feel like I left a classic rock station on the radio. What Drive-By Truckers is to southern rock, American Goldwing is that to Northwestern classic rock. It feels very much parts Idaho, Washington, and Oregon in nature. Which is odd, because the last time I was listening to Furr, I didn't really feel much of anything.

Deeper:

The Budos Band The Budos Band

Yes, the first one. Everyone in the last 18 months have gotten really into the third album The Budos Band III (which, in all honesty, is no slouch on it's own). However this is more stripped down than any of it's predecessors. It's less neo and more funk/soul (which makes sense, as Daptone Records was just getting its sea-legs.

Too Deep:

Various Artists: East of Underground; Hell Below

I suppose that most of this album collection is in its story: It's a collection of recordings by a series of bands whom were all active Army servicemen stationed in Germany during Vietnam. It's all funk, and it's all covers. My first thought about this was that, aside from it's nostalgic edge, it's little more than a heavy dose of vintage b-sides on the funk side. But what diminished this thought was how consistently tight the instrumental arrangements are connected, which I equate to a military structure. Only something funded by the military could be so crisp and tight, which in some strange way works for a large amount of songs that don't typically resonate the views and opinions expressed by the government.

As told by MF Swanke:

2011-10-22T12:37:00.000-07:00

He once bought an album (The Bambi Molesters' Sonic Bullets: 13 From the Hip) by going to record store 40 minutes south of Tacoma, WA. Except that he drove there twice because he spent so much time thinking about the album cover.

This album cover:

He wasn't even sure what the genre of music it was, nor anything about the band. Rather, he just kept thinking about it.

That night he slept, and couldn't get the image out his head, and the next morning he drove the 40 minutes south back to Tacoma and promptly bought it.

Things that sound like Rilo Kiley, and don't narrate well to a video.

2011-10-20T12:38:00.000-07:00

A family trip recorded for the internet in Las Vegas in 1962:

Las Vegas 1962 from Jeff Altman on Vimeo.

1. Las Vegas, it appears, didn't use to suck so hard in 1962.

2. I need to acquisition all my family's old video recordings. My father did this years ago from our VHS'.

3. We use to call them "video tapes" when "video tapes" were what we used to watch movies at home (namely, a very worn out copy of Mary Poppins, Home Alone, and Uncle Buck). 1990's Macaulay Culkin, for the win.

4. Dick Van Dyke playing the Chimney Sweep guy in Mary Poppins
is really is damn funny. There's also a ton of drug references in that film.

5. At least 60's cinematography was better, from a D-I-Y perspective.

Today in Proxy War news:

2011-10-20T10:48:00.000-07:00

They killed Gaddafi, or captured him, but probably killed him.

At least that's what Facebook is saying.

(via Reuters, Twitter, Facebook, my roommates, most news sources, etc.)

Something from two months ago:

2011-07-10T16:16:00.001-07:00

Read:

2011-07-10T16:11:00.000-07:00

News of the World closes it's doors (permanently?) due to poor manners (via The Daily Beast)

Below: a copy of their final issue

Just kidding.

Or, as it read from the desk of Rupert Murdoch:

Listen:

2011-07-10T15:44:00.000-07:00

Buck 65's cover of "Talking Fish Blues"

Courtesy of MF Swanke

Thoughts on Dual Survival

2011-07-09T16:18:00.000-07:00

I suppose this is my first real post since the new design (hey there, have you noticed? bam.)

Anyways the blog is now fully functional. I've also added a second medium! nowakattack.tumblr.com! Hot damn! Also a twitter! So from here out, now that school is out and it's time for job development, we've got ourselves a blog here.

Also I spent the last 1.5 hours at my new apartment in Austin developing my new mediums and

Two heterosexual men heterosexually demonstrate heterosexual tactics of survival in the form of a white person pretending to be a Native American, while the other heterosexual person breathes in heavy sentence form of out-of-breath sentences.

and the two characters are:

No, I'm serious.

I can understand how a legitimately styled documentary could really emphasize some value to what they're doing. The problem is that people want odd people doing it wrong.

Blog ON!

Read

2011-06-07T13:04:00.000-07:00

Washington Post: Blocking of an appointee for the Fed.

Right here.

Oh no. Hell no.

2011-06-07T12:24:00.000-07:00

...and in the final flames of collegiate activities and academia galore, I am now 5 days away from graduation

apparently in college, finals week is more like a "victory lap" more than an actual week of studying.

Then again, I did finish up all my major requirements a quarter ago.

Anyways, the point is NOWAK ATTACK has gone from its sleepy sleepy hibernation to an up and coming meme-starting fully operational brain.

I've had a lot of recent theories on the brain as the computer, which I'll divulge later.

So watch the FUCK out for Nowak Attack 3.0, which may either be:

-A different url

-A different name

We'll see.

Also, if you're curious to know, The Passersby Post was accidentally deleted.

Yes, accidentally.

and now this:

I probably should have done this four months ago...

2011-03-18T15:38:00.000-07:00

... but I've been doing a new radio show for over 4 months now.

If the Blues Are A Rockin', Don't Come A Knockin' is a radio show mixing together the blues in all different senses of the word. A lot of 60s soul, Delta Blues, Punk Blues (Soledad Brothers, The Black Keys, etc.), Funk, and so and and so forth.

I just found out a couple days ago that the time is staying exactly the same which is Sundays from 4-6pm.

You can hear my audible hodgepodge (for locals) at 89.3 fm or at kugs.org.

Oh hey!

2011-03-18T15:26:00.000-07:00

Another quarter has passed (barely), and with that here I am. So... hey!

If there's a tone for the next few upcoming months, it's this:

Posting this may have been inspired by an episode of Freaks and Geeks I watched last night. I don't want to go there right now, but I will say that Rush is a terrible band.

Actually, that might actually be more abrasive...

Rush still sucks.

Dictators and such.

2011-01-31T11:23:00.000-08:00

So I spent the entirety of my weekend (and I'm serious) coping with an intense head cold and watching Al Jazeera. I've found the entire Egyptian uprising completely fascinating (I may have gotten emotional on Friday when I woke up to see the people physically removing their leader from his authority).

It should be noted that I'm really not a politically motivated person in general. At one point I use to be staunchly Libertarian, but I just have lost most of my motivation since the 2008 election (and if you've been following my blog since then, I think the general trend has shown). BUT I did find this impressive because , honestly, I didn't think something like this was possible (especially in such an oppressive government).

But more than anything, a colleague of mine and I noticed something very particular about Hosni Mubarak:

He's got a very "Bond Villian" thing going for him. And for several reasons:

-He seems like a neuter, amorphous human. Not personality-wise, but more-so with demeanor. Expressionless yet possibly pissed off all of the time.

-Anyone with a state-run television station tends to fall under this category (which, I don't know if anyone noticed, but the logo for the state channel is a transforming pyramid. I didn't think people still quoted one of the 7 wonders of the world to symbolize political empire.)

ALSO: I learned today that this man:

Is going to be the next leader of China after Hu Jintao steps down in 2012. How does this matter? It really doesn't. But this is his wife:

The kicker: they've been married for 20 years.

So just know that when Mubarak decides to finally fire his moon laser at the Capitol Hill, at least we can take solace in knowing that Xi Jinping's wife is a smokin' babe.

Things I've Learned in College Part 13

2011-01-05T10:33:00.001-08:00

I decided to humor myself by enrolling in a freshmen-level philosophy class this quarter.

This takes some adjusting to, as I realize in four years I've become so disenfranchised from "the kids", especially since I went home and watched a James May documentary series after I finished class.

Aesthetic:

-The whole class smelled like a Holister clothing store. I bought a coat from that franchise on time, and that kind of smell never leaves your memory bank.

-At one point I saw a very tall freshman wearing a t-shirt that said "SWAN DIVE... into the best night of your life."

-The beards (and I'm not talking shit here) were all very scraggly.

-The girls all seemed to be dressing like a commercial hipster. Some unnecessary denim, a lot of straight long hair.

But more than anything, I noticed my own alienation. At one point my poor professor tried "lecturing" which amounted to me writing the minor points (what is epistemology, the difference between that and metaphysics, etc) where the students stared blankly at him, and then he referenced beer, and then a whole group of chuckles.

"God dammit" I thought to myself.

Then a kid fell asleep on the first day, and I immediately became infuriated, whereas in 2007 I would have considered copying his behavior.

But the cout de grace was when the professor made a reference to Tom Rundgren and I laughed (out loud), which shifted 10 heads or so to me, and it hit me:

I've become the "old creepy guy" in the college class. My only goal now is to remain silent and motionless until finals week.

The Nowies (Best of 2010)

2010-12-27T13:07:00.000-08:00

This year might have been my favorite year in music since 2003, and that's a BOLD statement in my mind. The expansiveness and willing to accept that there is no such thing as a status quo anymore set a lot of things apart, and that's partially because there was really no definable "genre". There was no post-rock bullshit, there was no surge of "neo-psychedelic electronica" (I'm looking at you, Animal Collective and Neon Indian). It was just a lot of people getting away with murder because, all of the sudden, it's become okay to get away with murder.

What changes the game between now and 2003 is that 2003 was a very optimistic moment in music. Everyone was happy to be pissed at Bush, the internet hadn't yet spun Tower Records out into a black hole. I remember finding a copy of Spin magazine where they named the "coolest people in rock and roll", and numbers 1-5 were all of the members of The Strokes. That's how great it was! In a lot of ways, 2010 is kind of a post-apocalyptic world, but it's not as bad as we thought it was going to be. It wasn't actually going to get worse before it would get better. It just became, acknowledged, I guess.

And with this amount of variety and willingness to start sentences with "and", I give you the best of the random world we live in. Ladies and gentlemen, what I feel to be the absolute best in 2010.

20. John Legend & The Roots Wake Up

Now while this was far from the best, I loved what it represented; a return to the way Black artists use to encourage social change. Curtis Mayfield, Marvin Gaye, Stevie Wonder, and many other popular artists would write songs discussing the restraint of the world, referencing their roots and how this applies to making the world a more equal place. While both artists have kind of decelerated in talent over time (The Roots now hosting a late night television show, and John Legend making really stale records for three years now), these are the appropriate modern day artists to do this, and this gets an 85% accuracy rate with their songs.

19. The Arcade Fire "The Suburbs"

Honestly, I didn't really care for this album, for about 3 months. I really tried to like it, didn't, then I did, and then I got too depressed trying to listen to it. Actually, now that I think about it. This happens with every single one of their albums to me. But I still like it, but I'm starting to care less and less over time, which is disappointing, because I find the idea of living in finely articulated and well structured neighborhoods (and the fact that the idea and implementation is now 60 years old) to be completely fascinating, especially since I lived rurally for most of my childhood. Did I get shorted out? Not really, but it makes for great music.

18. Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti Before Today

A while back I had said that this album supplements the neuroticism of the Tacoma section of Interstate 5 very well, as it is very dirty and gritty and oddly 80s and lacking of natural aesthetic. This only makes sense because by the time you've hit the third hour of a car ride home (which usually lands me in this area), the exhaustion starts to set in and the legs start to cramp (especially if there's traffic, which there usually is) and the four cigarettes you've smoked start to make your throat a little raw, and then "Round and Round" comes on and something about this disgusting environment feels very validated, as it mixes somewhere between the Ferris Beuller's Day Off soundtrack and New York post-rock-punk-whatever genre.

17. Avi Buffalo Avi Buffalo

As if to make a more awkward segue, Avi Buffalo couldn't be more opposite in sound in comparison to Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti. Avi Buffalo sounded exactly like my Sophomore year of high school, very indie poppy and innocent and curious to know what a handjob might be like. But unlike my progression of the next five years, Avi Buffalo maintains its innocent nature for many many tracks. This jangly shit will always be my weak spot.

16. Das Racist Sit Down, Man

Das Racist probably has the most intellectual artists of anyone on this list this year. Not only is this duo incredibly talented with regards to their sampling, but their flow is also impeccable and it's all the good things about Lil Wayne's style of flow without any of the annoying pretentiousness and ridiculous shit. And it's also very politically oriented (in a smart, interesting, and very assertive way). Das Racist does not fuck around, and the name alone should be a jumping off point in declaring that.

15. Janelle Monae The ArchAndroid

As far as contemporary avant garde goes, this is a mystifying exception to most rules, especially since if you had to give it a genre, it would probably be R&B. There's something involved here about robots, or spaceships, or I don't know. I've been told several times what this concept album is about, but like most good ones, I really don't pay attention. I just know it has no real test pattern of sound with each track. They are each independently very stable, and then build off of each other to take over together, much like the way I think she might have been talking about with her robots or spaceships or whatever.

14. The Pack A.D. We Kill Computers

The Anti-Tegan & Sara. I say that for two reasons. One is they don't suck. Two is they're just as femme and also from the same place and also a two person girl rock duo. People make a lot of claims that riot grrl doesn't exist anymore, but if people actually paid attention they would realize the newest reincarnations that meander around in the purgatory music tends to float in. But the thing is, they really do know how to rock some shit. "Deer" and "Crazy" are fantastic, and the rest supplement at great cascading White Stripes-esque territory mixed between the malaise of the Pacific Northwest and raucous nature of garage rock.

13. The Black Angels Phosphene Dream

Having only discovered this album a month ago, it's amazing how quickly this has grown on me. Knowing they come from Texas only makes more sense in both why I love them and why they sound the way they do. This is a LOUD album, in that it doesn't really seem complete unless it's played really loud. "River of Blood", my favorite track starts off very angry and scattered and then transitions into a semi-straightforward rock tune, and then BAM picks up with both and the angry cohesiveness makes it come together with each track.

12. The Budos Band The Budos Band III

Now I could go on for months (and I kind of have already) about how great Daptone Records is, and they have, and blah blah blah. But this might be the shining example. I remember walking into my office one afternoon and heard the trumpets and rediculous percussion belting out of my boss' office, which I found later to be some of the whitest and best modern day insturmental funk. This band of many people play their whole scene off like it's a joke (their last track is a psychedelic cover of The Beatles' "Day Tripper" they get funky on and re-title it "Yad Reppirt"), but it really is more than just that. It's a real legitimate revival, and I wish more people would take note.

11. Dungen Skit I Allt

If we're talking about an embodiment of 2010, Dungen would be a great starting off point. First, they're Scandanavian. Second, they're jazz. Third, they're also psychedelic rock. Fourth, they have little to no vocals. Fifth, they pull it off really REALLY fucking well. It engages you with such a straightforward way, which is odd given that I drove around listening to similar shit all day (Sigur Ros' Takk... is a great example of foreign language chaos) and realized that Dungen are the only people I know of who can really grasp their audience in such an "I get it" way. You could spend 30 minutes with this music and not feel at all pushed around or ambiguous whatsoever, and the crazy part is, at its core, that's all this album is.

THE TOP TEN

10. The Tallest Man on Earth The Wild Hunt

Around 20 years from now when our hypothetical children are raiding our iPods, we're going to get some serious shit from our kids for liking this. I feel almost wrong not placing this album higher, because for being such cut-and-dry acoustic singer stuff, it really is more than it's initial external appearance. It's intimate in ways few can accomplish, kind of like old school James Taylor; it's really sad and mellow and melodic and not delegitimized by having the handicap of singer-songwriter territory. Plus, I mean come on, that raspy near teetering voice makes a grown man feel very small on the wrong day.

9. Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings I Learned the Hard Way

I know it's been a great year when Sharon Jones doesn't even crack my top 5, which makes me simultaneously sad and very satisfied. I mean, really what else could be said about this? It's fluid, it's funky as hell, and it's vulnerable. Actually that's the best part; its vulnerability. Sharon Jones is a tough. ass. woman., and she does not pull any stops dropping knowledge on tough times that are usually reserved for close friends and therapy. She's been cheated and cheated on, she's taken a lot of shit that has made her hardened, and that's only validated further by some of the best soul arrangements that can only be compensated by her ever-loyal Dap Kings.

8. Kanye West My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

I probably would have made this my #1 album had it come out earlier in the year, and for the most part everyone has already made it their #1 (from Pitchfork to Rolling Stone). But the thing is, I totally get why. This is the Citizen Kane of hip-hop albums, and I blame it solely on ego. West is one of few people who have ever actually harness their gargantuan egos and turned it into gold. This album is nothing BUT ego, and he pulls it off with flying colors. "Runaway" is not only a fantastic and well-articulated epic, but it's also devastatingly relatable. He acknowledges his faults at every step, and admits with every beat how much of an asshole he is, and for some reason he makes his ranting and raving of the last decade sound completely normal, because he's the only man who can legitimize pure ego, at least until he completely bursts.

7. Drive-By Truckers The Big To-Do

This was the baton that was picked up (not passed) by the saddest situation that happened last year; The Hold Steady. In fact, these guys have been around for so long that they probably taught The Hold Steady how to rock bar-style. So while these guys were disappearing into obscurity, they surprise most with some really aggressive and heavy shit that hold only reminiscent notions of the best southern rock band of the modern era, and just for fun they decide to whip some ass. ADD.

6. The Black Keys Brothers

This was my favorite success story of 2010 (fuck Chilean miners, and Sully Sullenberger). While everyone from the vanguard was dropping like flies, these guys really came back as mature, stable, and very confident artists. Now everyone is going to blame Dangermouse for skewing them, but I think because of their missteps (really you can't be mad at either party for the pile that was Attack & Release) they've gained direction. This doesn't sound little like their cout de grace (The Big Come Up, Rubber Factory, and Thickfreakness), but rather a modernized rearrangement of the sound the catalyzed them years ago. And what's better is that this album is 15 tracks long, and it is very VERY consistent all the way through. In fact, I feel the last three tracks really pack the most punch of it all.

5. The Walkmen Lisbon

Last year Phoenix came out with that kind of "defining" album that ensures their most solid work and let's them float off, feeling completely accomplished, within their market and genre. It was their individual Dark Side of the Moon. Now, it is apparently The Walkmen's turn. It was commercially successful (given the market), it was renown as being, more than likely, the best and most perfected they will ever get, and if you didn't like it, you were more than likely pushed away from discussion or social groups and norms. For good reason too, because this album, regardless of genre preference, was absolutely solid. Through and through and through and through, it flowed so well together and with such an effortless demonstration. I really will miss The Walkmen, because they can't really do any better, and for good fucking reason.

4. Sufjan Stevens The Age of Adz

I know, right?

3. Tame Impala Innerspeaker

Tame Impala is such a simple and great piece of work. It's all of that bullshit psychedelic crap that has been done over and over and over, but this time, it refined it, if that makes any sense... It's the first time I've ever heard psychedelic stoner rock turned into something that could be digested as singles, and they do it with out coming off as cheap or instant sell-outs. There's something about Australian artists that allow them to pull a lot of crazy stunts with classic rock, and this seems to be one of those times, as it mixes straight modern grooves with the sensation of camping in the woods during the summer.

2. J. Roddy Walston & The Business J. Roddy Walston & The Business

J. Roddy (and his Business) makes the world go round. It has something few real rock groups have anymore, a piano. Even better the lead singer plays Jerry Lee Lewis style but adds that dirty rotten Vice Magazine reading hipster stink that owns the planet right now and they put a shit ton of raspy vocals, aggressive guitars, and butt rock to layer over each steering wheel pounding, cigarette smoking single. The lyrics consist of topics such as accepting that your woman is crazy and is pissed at what you've done, but, for the love of god, please don't break our herion needle, amply entitled "Don't Break the Needle". Another personal favorite is a complete and elaborate fear of aging, amply entitled "Don't Get Old"

I think the reason I love this most of all is that it is so contextually simple (and this may be the year I get dispute on my #1 album) but takes soooooo much out of it. If you really think about it J. Roddy has made music that pounds like a shitty bar song, thumps like a great rock song, and hits lyrically with a relatable masochism of getting a folding chair to the back of the head. I've spent more long drives listening and slamming the steering wheel to this than anything else.

My favorite lyric:
"I try and I try and I try and I try and try, but, girl, you know I'm just a full growing man."

NUMBER ONE:

1. Earl Greyhound Suspicious Package

This is in my top for two reasons. The first is that it is some of the best articulated rock (and I mean, rock) that exists. It is simply a drummer, a bassist/singer, and a lead guitarist. They take the three and mix it together and make epic after epic squeezed into 11 tracks. They quote everything, from Santana to The Darkness, even going as far as to name one track (one of my favorites) "Bill Evans", which gives me not just a big rock boner, but a big jazz boner (for those of you keeping track at home, that's two big boners). ANYWAYS the second reason this makes my top five is that it embodies so much of what was once lost, and this goes back into my 2003 argument. This was one of those stragglers that eventually got dropped from their label and then disappeared into obscurity, and this is one of my favorite success stories that only helped supplement the integrity of a long lost cause. During the end of my last relationship I was driving through eastern Washington with my girlfriend at the time in my Mazda and not speaking to each other. We lulled the aggresive silence with "Misty Morning" as if to say to each other, "Listen, I love you, this isn't working out, and we know it, but, I mean, fuck it, let's blow out in glory and blast the last sincere thing on the planet." It was that kind of great.

Thoughts on Vacation Part 2: The Christmas Mullets and the Great Hometown Stereotyping

2010-12-25T15:04:00.000-08:00

I've spent a lot of time really stereotyping my hometown, and just a few days ago two of my closest friends from Bellingham came down for a birthday/welcome back party for another mutual friend, and I realized that the broad brush strokes I've painted over time might not accurately describe an outsider's perception.

...and with this thought in mind I went to the grocery store today and witnessed two, yes two, men with mullets.

and I'm not talking like "oh, I just haven't bothered cutting my hair and it kind of grows this way". I mean like legitimate well groomed and articulated mullets.

I doubt it was coincidental that they just decided to mill around the Safeway in Battle Ground on Christmas Day.

But more than anything else I recognized the representation of their personalities that respectfully placed each into their magnificent and, dare I say, ballsy fashion statements.

Player #1 had the legitimate feathered mullet, the vanguard of the cliché mullet world. Ironically he was also wearing a wife beater with a Hawaiian shirt.

example:

I should probably note that this a costume wig, and the dude definitely wasn't fucking around

Player #2 almost appeared to be a modern day version. The phrase "Business in the front. Party in the back" seemed to be very much alive hear, as the top of his mullet was a very well groomed flat-top, which could either be interpreted as very post-modern or very registered sex offender. But where he went left field here was his "back" was actually a groomed pony tail, which threw me for a loop because it actually almost legitimized his love for nostalgia.

Example:

Imagine this with a ponytail. Yes, this is a picture of Billy Ray Cyrus.

As I drove home mildly confused and oddly frustrated, I realized that I am not exaggerating about any of the shit that I talked.

That last thought hit me as I passed a deer-crossing sign that had a shotgun blast through it.

Merry Christmas.

2010-12-25T10:52:00.000-08:00

"Remember, no man is a failure who has friends."

Thoughts on Vacation

2010-12-23T23:57:00.000-08:00

My sister's new kitten plays fetch. I feel I really don't need to elaborate this.

-Since my parents got divorced the two family dogs, Spock and Sanchez, have been separated. After taking Sanchez with me back over to my mom's house for Christmas Eve, I realized that these two former housemates were separted quite abruptly from each other. Then I imagined if this had happened to me what the reaction would be like, and then my side-tangent of a mind led me to imagine Spock and Sanchez reacting to seeing each other for the first time in months:

Sanchez: (walking into my mom's apartment) Spock?

Spock: (lifting his head up from his doggie cigarette) Sanchez? Oh my god, dude, where the fuck have you been?!

(Sanchez and Spock go in for a handshake/one-arm dude hug)

Sanchez: So what the hell man? What happened? You just up and took off one day?

Spock: Yeah man, I'm living with mom. Apparently shit got real and I got evicted.

Sanchez: Oooooh. No shit man?

Spock: What about you? Are you still living at Dad's?

Sanchez: Yeah, it's alright, but this cat moved for the break. She's alright, but she's kind of a pain in the ass.

Spock: Yeah I heard. Sorry to hear about that.

Sanchez: Meh. Can I get a drag off that? (Spock passes the doggie cigarette)

-I've been fascinated of what the culture of the "divorced kid" life would be like, especially during the holidays, which as it turns out, has an emphasis on decent but ambiguous Christmas presents (movie tickets, and on one occasion, a hookah), which my sister and I now call "divorce kid presents". It's kind of great.

-My sister loves the show Criminal Minds, which is total crap, but apparently has the creepiest role ever played by Jason Alexander:

Really Awesome Christmas Shit List

2010-12-23T15:22:00.000-08:00

For over a decade I've been making a mental list of all of the material things that can subsidize the holiday season pretty damn well. The criteria isn't really defined, although some of these things are just "aha" moments during the month of December that I discovered.

Vince Guaraldi's Charlie Brown Christmas Soundtrack

I've said it before, and I'll say it again; this is the Dark Side of the Moon of Christmas music. I say this because, for being a total a blatant attempt at a seasonal cash grab, this album older than my parents is still holding the test of time. The musicianship is so good that it has very much defined Vince Guaraldi's legacy, and it's easy to understand why. His combination of children's vocals, delicately bold piano, and sashaying drums can really either put your heart at ease or put you in a holiday type of mood, real fucking quick.

The Santa Clause

There are two things supremely righteous about this film. The first is how funny overall Tim Allen is in this movie. I've seen this movie waaaaay too many times, but I think people forget how hilarious Allen was when he wasn't doing a show as dumb as Home Improvement. Of course, there's a lot of kid type of humor (as most children movies are), but some of the lines are just fantastic.

Example: skip ahead to the 4:39 mark on the video below.

The second great thing it does is emphasizes divorce at a very young age. Charlie, the little boy, is sharing the holidays between his father and mother (and mother's new husband), and major point of conflict that hadn't really been faced in cliche Disney Christmas movies was the struggle of the child trying to decipher how to handle Christmas between two families. This is odd because for Disney to do this in the mid 90s (yes, this movie makes me feel that old) is both a little unexpected and gutsy for a business structured around nuclear families.

Home Alone & Home Alone 2: Lost in New York

Despite the fact that these movies is incredibly old, it has remained shockingly stable. I think this comes from the fact that everyone from ages 12-25 grew up with this movie. and I mean, come on. It's the ultimate fantasy. You are 9 years old, your family is driving you crazy, and you have a giant house full of awesome shit. The scene alone where Macaulay Culkin is eating a gigantic sundae consisting marshmellows and cereal AND watching a violent gangster movie really is the embodiment of independence to a child. To this day I still want to scare the crap out of the pizza delivery boy, except now it's usually a guy in his late 30s looking like he already had that happen to him twice already.

The sequel is clearly an extension and a money maker, but being it that John Hughes (rest in peace) maintains a lot of integrity in his movies, he actually makes Lost in New York longer and more articulate, adding in the equation of not to fear old scary people to the homeless (in which the most heartwarming scene involving turtle doves) only trumped by even more tortuous felon traps.

It's a Wonderful Life

What's most amazing about this movie is the fact that it took 30 years for people to realize how amazing this movie is. Perhaps Frank Capra's masterpiece (negating Mr. Smith Goest to Washington and It Happened One Night), the only reason it's "festive" is that the climax of the film takes place sometime around Christmas. But to this day it's one of the most moving films I've ever seen. It's become such a cliché to say "Every time a bell rings, an angel gets his wings", but if you invest into the first two hours of the movie, it'll cause you to sob like a child. Every person can relate to Jimmy Stewart's character, especially if you grew up in a close community of people or a small town. The protaganist is a such a crazy combination of hilarity and concentrated evil, the cast of townspeople are wonderful, adn the lead pushes something that few movies have ever pulled off; a person who does not feel fulfilled despite being a dedicate architect of your friends of community, and then eventually realizing it the most real and tangible way that it really is a wonderful life.

Watch this:

A Christmas Story

There's a reason there's an entire channel dedicated to this movie for 24 hours. It's a hedonistic Christmas movie articulated to a T. It's nothing more than an attempt to define the joys of watching your parents bitch and moan while you sit around begging for gifts and fantasize about how you would use such gifts.

Elvis Presley Christmas Album

What separates this from the rest of this list is it's not necessarily oriented towards Christmas, but yet it is entirely oriented towards the holiday. Example: the very first song starts with several men singing the word "Chriiiiiiiiiiiistmaaaaaaaaaaaaas. Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiistmaaaaaaaaaaaaas." And then, BAM, a very aggresive snare drum starts pounding and it turns into this weird mesh of very cliche music and great odd 50s style rock and roll ("Blue Christmas" is a perfect example). But because it's the most schizophrenic album I've ever heard, it has to be mentioned.

C9 Bulb Christmas Lights

I will make this case right here and now: eco-friendly Christmas lights are ruining Christmas. For those of you who don't know what C9 bulbs are, they are the old fashion giant really overheating style lights that could possibly burn your house down. But they are just soooo pretty. My household somewhere towards the late 90s decided to switch the mini icicles which just looked like a flacid penis in comparison.. And we all know that Christmas is not about limp dicks, it's about big giant American throbbing dicks of consumerism, and C9s just look so damn bright and professional.

Hot Chocolate w/Peppermint Schnapps

This is a how a grown ass child like myself and my friends celebrate a holiday. Usually you would add some music mentioned from this post as you sip on this.

The scent of Grand Fir Christmas trees

I consider myself to be a little bit of connoisseur on this topic. One thing that makes the strongest argument for a natural Christmas tree is the overwhelming scent of evergreen in your living room. I often find myself during the non-holiday months looking for the smell in candle form. It feels like sap and warmth.

Bing Crosby's "Silent Night"

To define the old fashion 60s Christmas archetype that is still equated to the holiday, there is only ONE SONG that perpetuates properly.

Sufjan Stevens

'Nuf said.

Honorable Mentions of 2010

2010-12-21T13:05:00.000-08:00

I really did love this year in music. I'm not sure why. It might be because I paid more attention this year than most to music, or it could have just been resonated after months and months of legitimate LPs (and EPs for that matter).

At any rate, I was so in love with this music that I couldn't simply compile a 20 list set this year. THEREFORE I'm opening up an honorable mentions section (essentially, whatever I couldn't cram into the 20). I felt really obligated to do this because there was just. so. much. good. stuff. It felt like a shame to not nod everything great.

With that, very HONORABLE MENTIONS time:

Darker My Love Alive as You Are

I loved this band because they are really honing on the simplicity of beauty, and the beauty is really being taken out of psychedelic rock this year. It's so fucking summery and breezy, but it still has a little kick to it.

The Corin Tucker Band 1000 Years

This was a peppy little attempt to make some post-Sleater Kinney music. Not the worst, but not the best. It was however a very nice reminder of where a lot of credit due wasn't delivered.

The Gaslight Anthem American Slang

GAHHH!!! I really really wanted to make this to the top this year, but I just couldn't do it. I just couldn't. While they have a great thing going for them, something deeply subconscious makes me hate them because they sound like Tom Petty. The beauty of this, dude, is in its simplicity.

Joanna Newsom Have One on Me

Joanna Newsom made the most expansive track set yet, and what's better is it's very solid throughout. I honestly can't see much wrong with it at all. The problem: a friend of mine pointed out to me recently that the album seems as if it's three separate albums, and I think to me this might be why I feel funny about this album. I think because it's so expansive that it becomes a little too overwhelming for me, even if it is 2 HOURS of really really great soothing coffee-on-a-saturday-morning music.

Mountain Man Mountain Man

Mountain Man is great but not refined. I recognize they're pulling an Old Crow Medicine Show here doing the old-timey schtick, and for the most part they're definitely pulling it off. But I just wished this was polished a little bit more. People like Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes have a done a great job crossing over, but I think that's because it sounds a little more mature.

Surfer Blood Astro Coast

Surfer Blood was the band I wanted to like more. Very catchy jingly shit that gets me like a cat getting a tassel waved at it (and trust me, I usually pounce for the mother fucker). But this was just too much of a garage pop whoop-dee-do than a real mature or proper crack. That's not to say it didn't have high points, I just feel they need to get more comfortable with themselves. They still sound pretty fresh off the boat.

Spoon Transference

Spoon is making me feel old. This is like when Bob Dylan did his later 70s work where he was kind of random and particular with stuff that not a lot of people got (partially because he lost his direction). This is the same thing I feel about this. It's not that it wasn't good, it's that they feel a little stale. In this musical orgy of new shit we live in today, I can imagine how daunting it might be to maintain relevance, but I think what they don't get is that we will love them anyways. I mean come on, they've given us so much to be thankful for in the last decade that they don't need to "progress" their sound. It's okay to pull a Wilco now. Trust us, Spoon.

Warpaint The Fool

Warpaint is what Vivian Girls are trying to be, but like Vivian Girls, I feel they need a little more time to work out their kinks. Great femme lo-fi with a dark creamy center that pulls you into a dirge. Also, it's got Shannyn Sossamon (who?), which would immediately take away, but for some reason this recipe for disaster makes you think "huh... okay this is actually decent" and then goes to "oohhhhh, wait this is really good."

Jamie Lidell Compass

Jamie is too German to function. This time around he tried to break his funk and soul down 90s style, which Jamie still didn't fuck up (this is ironic because I always get nervous that whatever he does has great potential to fuck up). This gives me great hapiness, but as always is his problem is he doesn't build something cohesive. His albums always has some great GREAT jems but never a whole treasure box. Trust me, his greatest hits is going to see like James Taylor's one day, but until then, he's kind of stuck until he makes 11 legitimate tracks in a role.

J. J. Grey & Mofro Georgia Warhorse

This is something that I didn't even know existed as a genre before I discovered J.J. Grey (and his Mofro); Floridian Country Rock. It's a simplistic beat and stomp twang album, but it is so fun and interesting because nothing sounds like this currently.

Four Tet There is Love in You

I know very little about this genre, and for the most part, ambient electronic trip-hop is something I just don't seem to "get". But I heard this mildly sleep depraved and driving through I-5 in the middle of the night, and it clicked, and I'm lucky because this really is some of the best music to cascade out of the many different DIY music shits that seem to just ease out of people's laptops. It also took them forever to actually get a second album since their last LP in 2006, but that time was apparently what he needed to come up with something new.

I probably should mention this...

2010-12-15T00:17:00.000-08:00

Sometime over the course of this month I'm going to be changing the name of the blog to:

NOWAK ATTACK.

Kind of in an effort to streamline this thing, and partially because I feel like it's time for a little change.

How about a Black Keys music video?

How about yeah.

I've spent a long time thinking about this: Why I think Jackie Brown might be the greatest movie.

2010-12-14T19:59:00.000-08:00

I think, on every single capacity Jackie Brown is a flawless movie, and it is also one of my favorites (we're talking top 5)

First off, the realism of lower income Los Angeles in the 1990s. Much of the movie just emphasizes the environments of Compton, LA County jails, and the rest of the corruption and poverty of the time period.

Every actor is on their toes, and this was Tarantino at his best with his technique:

-He loved to utilize "has been" actors and actresses (given the pop culture of the time). Harvey Keitel hadn't been in anything serious for 10 years when he did Resevoir Dogs. John Travolta as well was a shadow before Pulp Fiction. Tarantino in this film chose several. First he uses Pam Grier, who up to that point was last known in the 1970s Blaxploitation films like Foxy Brown and Coffy, embodied as the archetypical black female badass. Then there's Robert Forester, who was well established in the 1960s and 1970s in films like The Great Escape.

-But what he does is he develops their characters so much more than he does in Kill Bill. Jackie Brown (Pam Greir) is a badass now, but such a vulnerable hardened badass. She portrays a woman who is very hardened because she's had to do things for people who have taken advantage of her. She asks Forester's character (Max Cherry) at one point "Max, how do you feel about getting old?" that leads to a discussion where she very abruptly summs her character up so well. Even better, they expose both sides, the vulnerable AND the confidence of a sassy ass woman. It's so great because in the beginning of the film when she's sent to prison and harshly interrogated by ATF agents, it's simultaneously comical but tragic. She, in many ways, is a feminist streak throughout the entire plot.

But hot off of Pulp Fiction this floundered in the perfection laid before it. However, this was the role that I've always loved more for Samuel L. Jackson. He takes the absurd over-the-top badass and delegitimizes him. He's not a man of integrity. He's a man pushed to success (however illegal it may be) to the point that he will not stop to take what is his, but he does with a hysterical consistence of great lines throughout the movie.

Why I love this movie more than most though is that the scene is so slick. It's very rooted in a soul and pulse, which is supplemented with a great soundtrack of fantastic funk and soul that flew out of the obscurity that was the 1970s. The first scene is a title card track simply flowing of a side profile of the main character, Jackie Brown, walking through an airport as a stewardess to the tune of "Across 110th Street" Just watch:

Tarantino definitely tries to quote a different genre of film everytime he makes another one (Resevoir Dogs was his crime sleuth drama, Inglorious Basterds was his historic drama, Kill Bill was his spaghetti-western/action film/ninja flic).

This was his film noir AND his blaxploitation film. Everything is built is suspense between very few characters and focuses nearly all attention on directing a few people. All with a lot of 70s r&b, and yet this movie is so fucking built around 90s L.A., as there's a very memorable scene with Samuel L. Jackson listening to a very 90s Johnny Cash song ("The Tennessee Stud" from American Recordings).

Finally my two favorite things put very simply:

-This movie has almost no violence, and absolutely no gore or blood, which is a huge shock.

-Robert De Niro is in this movie, and he plays almost no real part except an incompetent stoolie. Best tertiary character I've ever seen, except for the butler from Boardwalk Empire.

If you have 10 minutes, I would encourage you to sit and watch these two scenes in this clip:

Biggest Disappointments of 2010

2010-12-03T17:39:00.000-08:00

The problem with 2010 (besides the numerous non-music related ones) was that everybody who returned to the scene did not dig it with a gangster lean. In reality it was not that anyone was trying too hard (except for maybe The National), but just fading.

Fading like your favorite pair of jeans that you have always loved because, well, it make your ass look good. You've loved them, despite the fact they have faded from their nice polished dark wash and slim cut. But now the holes in the crotch and knees are getting too big to hold back with safety pins, and it might be time to toss them, because unless you're doing homework on a Saturday afternoon, they're really not appropriate for any occasion.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the shitty old jeans of 2010:

Belle & Sebastian Belle & Sebastian Write About Love

It seems to appear that Belle & Sebastian need to go into Bruce Springsteen mode and start reissuing their better moments and then do 3-hour live sets.

Eels Tomorrow Morning

Eels are something my blues-rock enthusiast turned me on to when I was slightly dehydrated a little buzzed midday on a Saturday, which is exactly where brilliance like Hombre Lobo belongs. HOWEVER, what's manipulating Mark Everett's sound is his drive to progress in sounds. Some people pull it off, but Everett doesn't have enough clout to move out of his progressions to make something that "concludes" a supposed trilogoy like Tomorrow Morning.

It's like when Conor Oberst came out with Digital Ash in a Digital Urn. Everyone hated it because it was too electronic, but everyone loved I'm Wide Awake, it's Morning because it was more confident in itself. It's like that except the difference would be between this and Lobo.

The Hold Steady Heaven is Whenever

The Hold Steady dropped the baton (which is was thankfully picked up by another few bands), and they dropped it hard. The wavering undefinability that made them so succesful in the last decade got a little too defined. It seemed noticable with their last LP in 2008, and it eventually took down another giant. Listening to it shows that their lyrical content, very shoddily, still exists, often talking about the glories of teenage coitus and the filth that is associated when your head starts bubbling the morning after drinking too hard. But where it goes south is with their music, which seemed like something that wasn't easy to fuck up, but they apparently did it. I suspect it has something to do with their organist leaving, but it's pretty inexcusable shit when they essentially created their own genre in the midst of numerous indie bands that came out during the 2000s.

The Magnetic Fields Realism

This album was just shit. Just pure shit.

The National High Violet

Last winter I got my greasy mitts on a copy of this album and sat in my kitchen with great anticipation that this would be the first move in a long line of excellent deliveries of the vanguard, and I got supremely sad. Not in the good sad way that The National usually does it (the kind that makes you think whoever has just recently broken your heart come into focus as you smoke a cigarette and ponder why you are as lonely as The National makes you feel oddly stoic). My problem with this (and just about everybody else in 2010) was that they grew up. Sometimes growing up is good, but sophomoric is what The National did. They gave snotty boys with English majors something to subsidize they're lack of emotion. But what makes this really bad was it took SOOO LOOONNNGGG to return after Boxer only for them to get slightly "completed".

Sleigh Bells Treats

I knew this album was going to suck. Something this year that everyone seemed to agree on was Noise does not equal Rock. Sleigh Bells was like Best Coast without the intellect to the lyrics (that was a joke) and replaced with a lot of fucking feedback.

She & Him Volume Two

M. Ward and Zooey Deschanel had a really really good thing going for them. M. Ward knew he was moderately talented and popular, and Deschanel knew she looked good, sounded good, and (I would assume) smelled good. So you take the two, stick them in a jar, shake for about 40 minutes, and you got Volume One. It was great! It was simple catchy pop songs that didn't really go anywhere, and they knew it! It was so fun! But I think that the combination has a quick expiration date because by the time they got around to finally recording a second LP, it went sour. I mean, Volume One was half-assed, but that was the point. "Theives" was a great track, but that was about it on this album.

-One night a buddy of mine came over and I got caught up in a phone call with my dad. As I'm laying on my bed in the other room, I could suddenly hear Volume Two being played at a gentle volume (as most She & Him tracks should be played), and I got so angry and distracted I seriously considered taking my shoe off and throwing it at my friend.

It's officially post-Thanksgiving...

2010-11-26T17:35:00.000-08:00

Which means I'm starting up my annuals. (with a couple new posts)

-The Foxes! '10
-Honorable Mentions '10
-The Disappointments '10

-possibly a best of movie lists (maybe)

-a personal testament to the new state of television/maybe podcasts

-really awesome Christmas shit list.

and of course

-The Nowies '10 (which, believe it or not, is almost finished)

A lot of these are going to start being post after the first of Dec.

Stay tuned!

The kids are alright.

2010-11-11T19:44:00.000-08:00

"I'm gonna have a kid, he's gonna be a fuckin' Navy Seal, he's gonna beat the shit out of me and all my friends, rip up our comic books, melt our lead figure, make our lives a living hell." -Patton Oswalt

I treated myself to lunch today at a local longstanding diner in town, there wasn't much going on (partially the reason I went in the first place), although I couldn't help but sit quietly and listen to everyone's conversations, as minimal as they were. However there were two people that sat across from me that really engaged my interest: a mother and daughter.

The mother and daughter held a closer-than-most relationship that was established in a very strong (albeit slightly passive) conversation between the two. It was that type of girl who just a little nerdy and corny, but still a sweetheart, and the mom looked like she was either a one-time background singer for Joni Mitchell or just never left the hippie culture of Bellingham.

And it's not that I have anything specific against hippies, that is except that they're like pacifist Tea Party members. They just don't make sense to me, and I think that might just be my instantaneous distrust of anyone who chooses to follow blindly into something that symbolizes a move to change.

ANYWAYS, the point was not this. It was the polarity of the situation that made me a little awkwarded out. As the mom is the demographic that wouldn't be assumed to have a kid like the one she had.

Example: The mom at one point found someone's headphones in the booth in which the two of them were sitting in, and instead of simply going to the server and telling her that she found them, she chooses to integrate the situation with her daughter, whom of which doesn't seem to care, yet tries to. The situation turns into a Brady Bunch type of situation where the mother goes "Well, I don't think these are ours, but what do you think we should do?

The woman clearly cares for her child, but I've had similar situations with my parents, and the moment last less than 15 seconds.

VS.

The girl telling her mom about these movie she's really looking forward to in which Robert Downey Jr. plays a man trying to get home to his wife whom is about to give birth to his child (to which she displays some amicable scenes she thinks are funny from the limited number of movie trailers. again she's kind of lame but really sweet). The mom (Joan Baez of the Pacific Northwest) puts in a very fake laugh about these comments

and that's when I realized something.

More and more I hear about this dynamic of reproducing where your child has a full potential of being completely opposite what you had hoped for under one's care and compassion. I imagine my hypothetical child (who's name would probably be something like Dude or Harrison) would be into playing piano to woo some new age hipster girls and grow his hair out long or something, I don't know. But one in my shoes of passive retro-conservative thought and a desire to see The Black Keys live wouldn't necessarily expect a greek system trust-fund patriot, but the reality of the situation is kids don't want to be their parents and the rebellion to clean haircuts and a love for Abercrombie and Fitch clothing is the most likely output of me tending for a child.

But today I saw it in the polar opposite way for the first time. A girl who, while still very close to her mom, is quickly moving into a different side-tangent demographic, while mom is probably going home to make something out of leeks and terra-cotta pots.

I think what made it a little unnerving was the fact that they were both having ice cream sundaes. Something about how, kind of, forced the aesthetic looked really felt weird and unnatural. Now is this a symbolic transition of the relationship? Probably not. But in my ability to properly define the situation I just felt awkward hearing it all go down.

Something I Really Like

2010-11-06T16:16:00.000-07:00

Alone in the Wilderness

This is so alluring to me as a thing because it takes something inherently philosophical and makes a simple need driven to by one man. It is strictly masculine if you really look at it.

Background: A man by the name of Richard Preneke in the 1960s (who at the time of retiring age) chose to exodus society in an attempt to be isolated by Alaskan wilderness.

This video is a set of home recordings (and narration from his personal diaries) that show him constructing a log cabin from scratch. and I mean... from scratch. He brings with him personal necessities and makes everything from primitive tools. Literally, the only tools he brings are the metal pieces with no handles, meaning he had to hand carve his handles and then assemble them, and THEN he chopped down his own lumber, sawed it into pieces, and assembled each pieces of the house bit by bit.

This also includes roofing his house, stacking logs for the cabin, making his own doors, windows, and quite climactically assembling a chimney/fireplace from stones and a little cement (which he feels guilty about using as you find out in the story).

What makes me feel 65 enjoying this is it has long been run as a filler documentary on PBS for years and years and years. Although after discovering this only a couple of years ago, I happen to just love with the way this is handled. It is poorly made (from what I gathered it was put together by some of Preneke's relatives) using odd celtic music and at times a piece or two of film that was clearly shot currently in order to subsidize Preneke's dialogue.

My roommate recently told me he was going to be writing a thesis utilizing a connection between this specific movie and Henry Threau's Walden, and this came back into my mind, as it is essentially Walden without any intellectual theme. It is the hollowed out easy to understand relaxing piece of mind, without ever alluding to how this outlook, and yet you still seem to understand it on an instinctual level. The most unfortunate thing about sitting down to enjoy this (and it's incredibly short, something along the lines of 45 minutes), you can't help but feel diminished by society. How the ice cold can of Ranier in your hand is something you depended on that was comforted for you, as he is making making utensils out of pieces of pine or as you illuminate your apartment with a lamp as he is stuffing his perishable food underground in the permafrost of an archaic refrigerator.

He's not subtle about how he feels about society, but he's not very articulate about it either, and that's what gives it its theme.

This is a video of Thomas Edison recording a ride on a subway in Manhattan in 1899.

2010-11-05T22:54:00.001-07:00

oh and it's mind boggling to think that I watched the entire thing:

On the idea that I watched possibly one of the earliest forms of visual technology on youtube, a website thought to be overbearing with too many obnoxious abuses of state of the art visual technology.

also I find it stunning to think this is one of the earliest visual recordings of the world, if not the earliest.

But then again, I find wax recordings of Walt Whitman to be fascinating, which might make me really old.

Things I've Learned in College Part 12

2010-10-19T19:32:00.001-07:00

Debate coaches teach ethics classes for the same reason football players throw track in high school; even though they have nothing to do, they still like to stay occupied in the off season.

Things I've Learned in College Part 11

2010-09-26T13:10:00.000-07:00

- Isaac Asimov quotes from episodes of Mad Men apparently go a long way: "We are flawed because we want so much more yet we are ruined because we get these things and wish for what we had."

(I've had this quote repeated to me at least five times.)

-A class like "Politics of Inequality" will always consequently suffer from a handful of self-masturbatory fart-sniffer.

-In the year 2010, I find it odd that the term "ghetto" is still an acceptable phrase. I heard three people use this term in the above mentioned class, and I almost raised my hand to contribute to this discussion (partially because I didn't really know what my white privilege-y ass, and partially due to the fact that I had relatives that actually suffered through real life ghettos).

-But then again, I thought it would be better of me to write down snarky comments and observations in the margins of my class notes instead.

-Self awareness: What I really learned in college was how to multitask paying attention and writing notes for my blog during class. This blog will self destruct in five seconds.

Vinyl Recommendations

2010-09-18T21:19:00.000-07:00

What I did on my summer vacation.

By Mark Nowak

This summer I bought a shit load of records.

(these are my favorites that I found)

Honerable Mention: Queen A Night At The Opera

10. Janis Joplin Pearl

9. Electric Light Orchestra A New World Record

ELO will continue to be the best rock and roll group ever. EVER.

8. The New Pornographers Twin Cinema

My favorite indie pop album that came out of the last decade.

7. Elton John Honky Chateau

After moving into my new apartment (which my roommate and I fell in love with) we immediately named the place "The Honky Chateau". After realizing this I went back to the record store I came from days earlier and purchased this album.

6. Cat Stevens Tea for the Tillerman

(these next 5 actually jolted me when I saw them)

5. Santana Abraxas

This album is cliched by many stoners. But it really is one of the best pieces of progressive rock. So fluid and the latin influence of percussion is the cherry on top.

4. The Beatles Revolver

I can't believe I actually found this, and I can't believe I actually found this for under $10.

3. Merle Haggard Mama Tried

With the limited availability of classic country on vinyl, I was shocked to see this. This is truly the most twangy the Bakersfield sound gets, even if the top of the album just has a random picture of a disappointed mother.

2. Johnny Cash At Folsom Prison

When I found this I made eye contact with Cash's pointing black ones, I immediately noticed how it cost as much as the three I was going to buy, proceeded to put away my other records, and went up to the counter with just this album.

1. Pink Floyd Dark Side of the Moon

I'm pretty sure the entire reason I started collecting records was to eventually find this album, probably in my late 30s, and declare it to be the happiest day of my life. I found this the week after I found the Cash. It was the happiest two consecutive weekends of my life.

Country Music Part IV: The Triumph

2010-09-16T19:32:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I went home. My house had been in a disarray, I had recently snapped very abruptly out of a relationship that I still hadn't gotten over (although I thought I was doing really well), my job was new, my life – essentially, and to spare the boring details – had been changed for a shocking new/different appeal("better", I suppose is another adjective I could use, but I don't like to see things as better or worse than before). I went home not really sure what to expect.

I should back up quickly and say that the main reason I went home was my friend (pictured above on the left, his name is Matt) came home after his third year in the Marines. When I arrived that Friday night, no one was home yet. In fact, I didn't feel like it either. A really wise person once told me that "Home is where your family is". Unfortunately for me "family" was three individuals who in several days would begin separating. And although this was a few days away, I had been aware of the situation for several years, and recently predicted the pinnacle (i.e. divorce) would slowly begin to take place

… just perhaps not days away.

However the divorce in this story was not really my point, despite the occasional metaphoric sting that hits me square between the eyes (which I'll go back to later). My point was the triumph.

When Matt came home that weekend he threw a huge party. I, publicly declaring for the first time in several months, would get really really really fucking drunk and celebrate. A huge barbeque was thrown in Matt's parents' backyard. A lot of people I hadn't seen since high school appeared out of thin air. I learned how to sip whiskey. I continuously would bear hug my old friends and attempt to maintain a non-slurred speech with adults in their 40s about how college is going. I was shoveled into the back of a truck to sleep it off at another location.

For the rest of that week I drank like it was my freshman year, which at 21, had been accomplished enough times to realize that drinking in excess began to look less like the early stages of 80s hair metal and more like A Decade Under the Influence (look it up god dammit, it's probably the best analogy I make in this entire essay series). But I continued on this path for many days, occasionally sobering up for a day and hitting it again for a couple more nights in a row.

..and the things that we did mirrored almost exactly what would have happened four years ago. On the Forth of July we drank semi-cold Keystone Light and lit roman candles off with the embers of cheap cigars and chased each other around the yard with them while trying to balance our beers and cigars.

Matt and I stayed up very late that night (4:00 AM) talking about all the things we've felt and thought about our lives. We both came to a great conclusion that we would make fantastic single fathers (my experience based off of my recent lack of faith in monogamy and the father/son dynamic shared by the Michael and George Michael in "Arrested Development", and his being a rugged individualism only experienced by a man who finished a tour in Iraq and was possibly leaving very quickly for Afghanistan). We both saw ourselves having daughters.

We were also the only two there that night. Most of our friends had taken off by 1:00 and we were left there. I told him about the blog I began writing a couple years ago and how I was trying to find a point to my discussion of country music, and how fucking chaotic the last year has been trying to keep a relationship solvent while not knowing how to deal with myself, how I let smoking, drinking, and overall debauchery go from a humorous narrative on life to my only resource. He told me equally personal shit, but it would inappropriate to let it be known here.

The status of all of my friends as of July 10, 2010, when I left:

Matt: Recently left for North Carolina where he will be stationed until he is deployed for Afghanistan in later part of this year. Matt is so simple he appears to be complex beyond my cognitions. His favorite adverb is "frickin'". We've related quite well because his outlook on the Marines features a lot the same characteristics I feel about the incredibly liberal college I attend.

Quinn: Perhaps my closest friend growing up, Quinn was unable to return home for this occasion as he recently started an internship in East Lansing, Michigan. He was very upset that he couldn't make it home, and we neglected to Skype him the entire time we were all home. He appears to be puzzled with his life. Even though it's been six month seen I've heard from him (negating two phone calls), it's very clearly his main feature right now.

Kevin: The oldest of the group, Kevin finally got his shit together last summer and transferred from a community college in Vancouver, Washington to Eastern Washington University where intends on becoming a cop. He is perhaps the most stoic of the group. He has morphed into an incredibly humble and mature person, oftentimes throwing me off with his personality.

Vance: Quinn's brother and perhaps the most volatile member of the group. He use to be a sex hound but in the last year has been dating a girl who both holds him down and drives us crazy. It's tough to call her a bitch because she attempts to be so aggressively nice to us that we momentarily forget that she has turned him into something completely domesticated. Not the "we miss him fucking everything that moves", but more so his free spirit, which has become a caged animal.

The week progressed like the aforementioned. However we could tell something was off, or at least I did (sidenote: when I use the term "off" I usually just mean "different").

In my time shared with three of the four original gang (and one phone call to Quinn), they all displayed the original mechanisms of functionality that they, to me, were world famous for in the summer of 2007.

Coincidentally during the time I was home, my father and mother decided to separate (the politics of which, were relentless and incredibly aggravating). A day later my grandfather was seriously hospitalized. It was the first time I saw my dad officially uncertain about the direction of his life and the thousandth time I saw my mom aggravated (the difference this time was A. she didn't know where to go post-separation, and B. Her father was (unknown to us at the time) a month away from passing away). I, like I was planning on anyways, decided to drive to my boys and start drinking heavily.

The drive there I decided that, maybe, it was time to lose my shit. It's like when you wake up from drinking just too much enough that you might need to puke it, because you can keep moving to start your day, you just might need to empty the sickness. That sickness that's just subtle enough to cloud things up or clear it out (at least until you finally getting around to fixing it). I put Wilco on and started driving. After the first initial thumps and progressions the beats were working like a bottle of ipecac. I could feel the emotional vomit starting to swell in my eyes. I brake and turn to the right into a church parking lot, where this will be the place I unload my feelings into a McDonald's napkin from the glove compartment. I, at the time, was just glad I didn't have to demonstrate this ritual in front of anyone. I had the cloak of an abandoned parking lot and loud LOUD music. As I was tapping my head on my steering wheel and bawling, I had a moment where I couldn't be quite sure what I was crying about. At the time I knew that everyone deals with this type of shit all of the time. To be put in this is much like everyone else these days. Why did I need to cry? It was out of necessity. Of course this shit happens, and yes I was kind of broken up about it, but I needed to puke it up, and this was the place to do it.

I landed sideways into the backyard I was too familiar with, and Kevin became a voice of reason. I pulled him aside after stealing a cigarette from Matt and a beer to shove in my back jean pocket and divulged everything of the last two days (which, I came later to realize was my abandonment of this town). He told me, essentially, everything I needed to hear.

I spent the night driving to a bar in Hazel Dell, and when I got home, I elected to stay at my friend's house at 3:00 AM. I woke up and slinked out of their house to arrive to something that was essentially pure chaos.

The last days hold no real relevance, but this probably requires more explanation than anything else:

In this time between departing from all my friends I bought my first pack of cigarettes (after quitting) on a Saturday night in town. For some reason I had always chosen my secret cigarette smoking hideout to be the parking lot of the Albertsons. Fast moving road, a lot of darkness, safe. It's where I've gone before. During this time I had women texting me for a quick local booty call before I left the town once again (and hopefully for good). I was so tired of my routine. Every time I had come home (aside from the debauchery) I had a goal to visit with my family, play with my dog, say hello to my friend's parents, and get physical with someone from high school who still thought I was interesting. My phone vibrates and I already know what's happening. "Come out with us" it reads. I decide to think on it, because I know where it's going, and I don’t really know if I'm really interested at all. I drag on my cigarette and feel the warm small town air brush past my arms and face. It's small town air. Nothing can descibe its innocence. You drive through it at night and you feel baptized. It leaves you comfortable. When I feel that breeze blow past me I distantly hear The Shins as I am driving over to Quinn's house after track practice in 2005. I smell cans of mint flavored Skoal as Matt insists that a pouch of chew is better than chewing straight tobacco in 2006.

I get back into my car and drive home. I go to bed.

The next morning was how to expect it. My house is full of people who don't understand each other, and to a certain extent, weren't really interested in trying. Everyone knew what they had done, and I really didn't feel like trying either. I gave everyone a hug, and nodded my head to indicate that this would be the last fucking time I acknowledged cohesion. The family obliged.

Before I officially headed toward the freeway home, I promised Matt and Kevin I would say goodbye before I left. Because Matt lived closest I visited him first. Like the original 2007 edition copy of Matt, he had spent the night drinking beer and rummaging through rural Washington (probably) trying to get laid. I pulled into his driveway in my wayferer sunglasses, topsiders, and v-neck t-shirt as he comes to shake my had and greet me in his cartharts , TAPOUT t-shirt, and calf-high boots. We stand in his driveway in the midday sun about what our plans are. I told him I was going back to work and he told me he was getting stationed on the East Coast, how he was going to drive his truck across the country to get there.

But I brought up the country music again, and to give me an idea about what's "good" now. He was surprisingly right about it. It made me realize that country music (real real) country music works in the same way the most independent labels here work, but in Nashville, and how the interesting and evocative lyrics do come out all of the time, but contemporary country to real country is like Good Charlotte to Sufjan Stevens.

But it really didn’t fucking matter. I had already gotten my point to this whole fucking thing… and so to explain what the fuck even matters and how country music pulls this together is, well it doesn't matter. The nostalgia was there but I didn't hear any Randy Travis while I was hanging out with my mom. I didn't hear Garth Brooks blaring in the living room. I found my country music in the firepits of my friends' backyards. I heard hicks playing beer pong in the garages. I heard my friends try and fuck with me to admit say that I like Keith Urban.

This was the triumph.

My youthful nostalgia of family and love and all of that came from nowhere. But my friends, despite my thought that things would not come together, did. They were different, but like a CD you find 5 years later in your closet, it provides you what you remember, and more importantly, what you need, even if you don't recognize the handwriting on the disk or the new beards/haircuts or the crazy girlfriends.

I went to visit Kevin. He was good to see, because after my point had come across, he only validated things further. We had equally as good and supportive conversations, insisting that we visit each other over the summer (if we can pull ourselves away) like all promises we broke that one too, but we knew it, and it didn't make us less like friends. I got in my car. I went home.

I sometimes do like Keith Urban.

Country Music Part III: Nostalgia

2010-09-15T21:15:00.000-07:00

The Triumph of Brotherhood and Nostalgia

Perhaps later on I'll explain the parental side of this. For now it's really the final act. I experienced this brotherhood in two dynamics:

Nostalgia:

During the time in which I thought "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" was going to be that change in country music, I was gaining a bond with four friends of mine who, despite our geographical differences, still occasionally reconvene. This was into my second year of high school. At that time the sky really did feel like the limit. Although none of us were getting consistently laid (in fact, the combined experience of the five of us ranged around a handful of handjobs), we begin a slow cycle of throwing parties that really meant we would all play music really loud and smoke cigars in our parents' houses and play poker with everyone we knew. During this time an unspoken bond was created. This accelerated over time, often sharing similar thoughts on early stages on existentialism while drinking tallboys of Bud Light at someone's firepit. I would spend full weekends with a pack of clothes in the trunk of my Mazda ready that Friday, and we would "tear it up" making really late-night calls to Taco Bell (the only establishment in Battle Ground open nearly 24 hours). We would talk about women we would never even come close to dating. We would play Halo 2 for three hours and then wrestle. In fact, our love for wrestling led me in one weekend to almost break my friend's neck and the following Saturday led me to (on video cassette) get my ass thoroughly handed to me by a soon-to-be state wrestling champion.

But the thing that facilitated this Linklater movie-like nostalgia was the shitty shitty shitty country music that would come blaring out of my friend's trucks. Kenny Chesney would be playing while I was floundering in a halfhazardly purchased Ben Folds album or fly through the backroads in late December doing donuts in a field. Sometimes we would sit by the fire for 45 minutes some times not saying more than a few sentences at 2 in the morning next to a fire drinking warm beer. My father always has this saying that "Those who know… know." We knew at the time. We still do.

As time progressed, so did our friendship. By the time we were high school graduates we had already chalked up enough shit to constitute ourselves as "lightly irresponsible".

This picture below was after drinking 8 beers and three swigs of cranberry vodka from an arsenal of alcohol that was stolen from a wedding. The shower cap was from another friend (not pictured) whom finished his late shift at Frito-Lay. This all took place in what you can tell is a giant tent. Deemed the "Man Tent", this large… tent was actually a giant tarp structure originally purchased in 2006 to shelter a boat from the elements (as most of Southwest Washington has maybe three solid boating months out of the year).

A lot of people I occasionally meet up with from "back home" seem to share little similarity on thoughts of this town circa 2003-2007. Then again, many people I can stand talking to circa 2010 tend to not be ones that just kind of adjusted to that town. They tend to be the young needy miscreants that cover the streets with their love of alternative culture, which would make sense why I find them engaging intellectually, as they've (mostly) elevated to a deeper philosophical train of thought. In other words, they deliberately left Battle Ground because they knew there was no higher purpose calling them there.

I was one of those people. I still am.

As the end of the summer 2007 hit me very quickly, I was beginning to see everyone leave again (be they from their first year back from college, or friends leaving for their first time) it all came together very quickly that this was the marking of something extraordinary. This was, as I tend to see my life, an ending of one of the early chapters. So I too said goodbye to my friends, my summer sweetheart, and everything that was normal to me and moved to college (I would say Bellingham, but really I was moving to college).

Blah blah blah, three years, awkwardness, nostalgia, love, heartbreak, NOW.

Country Music Part II: The Beach and Hypermasculinity

2010-09-05T14:39:00.000-07:00

The reason I took this long to finish off the second part: I went home for a week. I spent my time with those people that offered that nostalgic outlook in the first place. At times we even divulged our thoughts on identity in the context of small town life.

The Beach:

Jimmy Buffet arrived again. Somewhere out of nowhere while I was still in high school, and his aura was felt in the scene.

Now the baffling thing was at this time the transition I thought was going to come from elsewhere. Big N Rich hit the market with "Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy" which came off with more grit than most. I remember at one point shortly after the song came out I was listening with an attractive girl in a Honda Civic and I said "this is going to be where country takes off again." I was wrong, I was so dead fucking wrong.

Keith Urban and Kenny Chesney was where it was going. Australians and assholes was going to be where it was going.

Now I'll not throw too many stones. During my youth I indulged in pooka shell necklaces. I thought them to be perfect to assimilate my rebellious attitude. However, grown country musicans were wearing them with straw cowboy hats… and the beach.

Kenny Chesney went way out of left field and drove the market towards the relaxing beach mentality. Coming up with shit like "When the Sun Goes Down" and "Beer In Mexico"

It's like they understood that the "rural" culture now afforded boats and water skis.

…now at the same time the market was going for really really fucking stupid songs like "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy". Chesney hit this apex of crap that, while I was praying the dawning of country's second coming, made me realize that this is what it will be, a dichotomy of the beach and the shit.

Keith Urban is a transition of another part of the genre. He was much less complicated, although I did like him. First off, he's Australian, and while his music was compelling and easy to ride along with, lack a lot of genuine character. This made him a great character for the mainstream as he didn't really try to hard to find an occasional guitar solo and an easy understanding of his lyrics, and while he was conveying his message, it was so neutral that it was easy to assimilate.

Hypermasculinity:

Toby Keith is much like myself, often misinformed and easily misunderstood to be a douchebag. Toby Keith, while hit his high bar fucking HIGH has the misfortune of aquainting himself with other douchebags.

During 9-11 Toby Keith released a single "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue". It was incredibly appropriate for the time. Using lines like "Hey Uncle Sam put your name on the top of his list, and the Statue of Liberty started shaking her fist" put it as a pinnacle of nervousness turned patriotism. To this day I still have fragments of respect for that song because it truly encapsulated the cold sweat people felt coming home from 7th grade to find out that two massive buildings have completely toppled. Contextually, modern day sees this as something associated with the Bush administration, but at the time it was all but too fitting and completely on its own. I've even hypothesized that popular culture like this song actually influenced the Bush administration, rather than the other way around.

Where it goes wrong is much like the way Merle Haggard followed up "Okie From Muskogee" with "Fightin' Side of Me". It was, to put it poorly, like society unanimously was saying "we get it already." To the country music establishment, which was completely ass-backwards, this was the cash for gold exchange they were looking for.

Now remember the douchebag friends I was telling you about? Yeah, that's Trace Adkins. Famous, among other things, for songs like "Ladies Love Country Boys", "You're Gonna Miss This", and "(This Ain't) No Thinkin' Thing", this is where that hypermasculinity comes into effect. Well you know what, how about I just show you:

In recent years he's gone onto market himself more than his music, but his form of redneckery has made him a bit of evil genius. He is a giant redneck with a ponytail and he will destroy you. He is what the country empire eventually caved to, and with good practice. My mom and sister recently saw both Adkins and Toby Keith in concert and they told me that he actually had Ford trucks on stage to work in as advertising during the show. The Dixie Chicks had lost and the good ole boys had one, even if they were scrawny and Australian.

Tomorrow:

The Triumph of Brotherhood and Nostalgia

Uncle Norm

2010-09-04T23:19:00.001-07:00

There are few people in this world that I really find to be truly genuine. I mean in a way that cannot be more perfectly refined. This is tough to find because you need to be able to define the person over the course of their lifetime.

The most pure form of this is a relative named Uncle Norm. He is a great-uncle on my mother's side whom has resided in Santa Barbara, California for the vast majority of his life. Negating his time at an art institute in Los Angeles, his service in the Army Air Corps during World War II in New Mexico, and the various retirement travels across the country with his now deceased wife, the man has rarely left this town. He's the kind of man who is recognized and greeted with a handshake whenever he takes us out to dinner by the owner of the establishment. He speaks in a soft deliberate manner. He shares that endearing quality most old men share of having a slight conservative tint and a preference of interrupting your insight on a topic to explain either another side tangent discussion or an (kind of) amusing story (likely involving a domesticated animal). It really is a one-sided conversation every time, but it's the only time you wouldn't be annoyed by it. He just really wants to show that he cares.

His life revolves around quiet. The only thing that interrupts this silence in the six years since his wife passed away is the new arrival of a constantly running oxygen tank generator that runs much like an air compressor would (and sounds equally as obnoxious). Even as I type this I'm watching him watch the Dodgers play, and he has deliberately chosen to mute the television in exchange for subtitles.

-He makes a casual old man comment asserting that with all the money that Manny Ramirez makes, he could afford himself a "decent" haircut (as most men over 80 believe that dreadlocks are neither stylish nor respectable). I (despite my disposition that dreadlocks are both disgusting and sophomoric, mostly because I see mostly white college students wearing them) counterpoint politely in saying that it probably costs a lot of money to maintain such a fashion statement (although with Ramirez's ability, I would imagine it might impede his ability to perform on the field). He kind of ignores me, or didn't hear me. I suspect he uses his hearing aide to ignore people who disagree with him or don't find him funny.-

The worst thing about Uncle Norm is how quickly I can have an existential crisis when I have a conversation with this man. In the last couple of years he has developed an increasingly severe case of pulmonary fibrosis, a disease that will eventually take him to the end. He is the brother of my grandfather who died a week ago, and he carries with him oxygen that keeps him from going into insane coughing fits that could, essentially, collapse his lungs. He shows the signs of a man who was once incredibly mobile, but now is leashed to the top story of his beautiful home (built in the 1940s for $11,000, which is now estimated, due to it's property value and amazing view, to be easily in the million dollar range).

His home carries many photographs of him and his wife in their later years. In fact, the greater amount of photographs in his home are of him and his wife.

He took us to a restaurant tonight as I watched him eat his lampchops and merlot very quietly. Hearing the occasional "pssst" breaking in intervals to shoot oxygen into his nostrils. It was the most intense silence I've felt in a long time.

When I was 9 years old I had a very intense existential crisis. Not in a philosophical way, but in the summer of 1997 I very abruptly realized that I will die. It would not be something that I could control, and it could, quite literally, happen at any time. I suspect it might have had something to do with the media coverage that year the followed the release of the film Armageddon.

Watching Uncle Norm put this fear back into my body. A nervous hot rushing wave of mortality that feels like a borderline panic attack. Only today I realized that it isn't necessarily the fact that I would die that scared the living shit out me, but rather the idea of being that old.

Since my grandfather passed away last Friday, a mass collection of archival footage has resurfaced in the form of decades and decades of old photographs. One specifically had "UN [Uncle Norm], 1944" written on the back of it. It was of him dressed in a pilot's uniform in front of a small airplane. After quickly calculating the numbers mentally, I realized that this photograph was taken when he was 21 (my age). I looked up from this picture to see the same man in his late 80s with a plastic tube wrapped behind his ears and into his nostrils as he talks about a neighbor's dog whom he gives a treat to every time they stop by to visit.

The man has probably never harmed anyone in his life. I'm unable to see a flawed bone in this man's body, and yet he is subjected to a life that does not seem fair in a society that expects karma. I look at him staring intently Manny Rameriez's dreadlocks, and I can't seem to tell if he's happy or not.

He may be hiding things so well that perhaps he is as unhappy as I suspect, but then again he may be living the life of total contentment. Occasionally he will mention how deeply frustrated he is that he can no longer garden, but yet can never seem to speak ill of any of the cards he has been dealt. This leaves me with a suspicion that he is one of three things:

A. Miserable and waiting

B. Incredibly well adjusted to life

C. Purely an optimistic character

After coming home to stare at the Santa Barbara sunset and work off the buzz I obtained at the restaurant we ate at, my mother very sadly says "I just really wish Uncle Norm could live forever." He is a man tortured by the involuntary reactions of his own body, and yet I can't seem to tell whether the look of malaise he wears during commercial breaks is really that or him just trying to decipher the difference between the Cadillac and Buick commercials (a topic he has many opinions on, although we both agree they are all essentially the same 30 seconds).

To jump into this existential discussion with him regarding happiness in the bottom of the 7th inning of the game is ill-advised as he is clearly going to be too tired to answer cohesively, but I also fear that I may create a tear in time and space if I actually knew the question to the paradox that I have been fearing since the 3rd grade.

So I let Uncle Norm live his life, and I will give him a very big hug as a it may be the last time I do when I leave here in the morning, waiving furiously at him from the rolled-down window of our rented Camry.

2010-07-25T00:56:00.001-07:00

Link of the Day

Louis C.K.

2010-07-24T17:56:00.000-07:00

One of my new favorite people is Louis C.K.

Something my dad I both related to over the course of the last few day. Louis C.K. was always highly inspiring to Patton Oswalt (who is probably one of the best comedians still performing regularly). As of just now seeing his comedy performances, and didn't realize that his vulgarity and extreme analogies (delivered with such a self-deprecating/incredibly poetic prose. The delivery always sounds so extemporaneously flawless, and yet is just insanely obscure in thought process. The articulate illustrations of emotions are just hilarious. Each joke feels like a full manuscript that always takes you out of the focus and then draws you back after being completely obscure. He's as if Chuck Klosterman read out in the medium of public speaking. He sounds like C.K. reads in story progression (as if Klosterman chose to write curiously random/offensive stories).

...since he finally got his own sitcom, he's finally taking off in a big way, partially because it's REALLY FUCKING WELL DONE. He finally embodies that brilliance that comes from oddly-thought-to-be topics of discussion. He's incredibly vulgar, and the way he writes this scene. Now it's clearly reminiscent to Seinfeld, but he clearly makes it his own. I really hope it becomes another Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm. It's brilliant in that same way, in that taking mundane (sometimes depressing) topics and just running with them so quickly. I mean the pace of Ricky Gervais (and how incredibly VULGAR he his, making that clearly what makes the scene so vulgar (it's clearly offensive, but he says so many wrong things that he makes them bounce off as just being completely nutty and you find yourself chuckling because of the madness.

Watch it here.

I mean not only is this well shot, but it just hammers so many nerveracking things (to have a such a strange person be a doctor, and also C.K. shows how Ricky Gervais is so foul mouthed and childlike in his obscure though-process.) He does a great job highlighting the other mid-famous comedians he's worked with over the last decade. People who really know a lot about modern comedy and first time people can love this show. He pays so many dues to the other people that rose out of the late 90s/00s comedy circuit (kind of in the way that Flight of the Conchords use to). He also during the show plays an amazing soundtrack to the progression of the show (a lot of great jazz and soul)

This last clip uses a LOT of very crude language, but it's a brilliant scene. It uses such a different perspective (orientated towards a crowd that doesn't really like to think about this topic), using the idea of the guys' Friday poker game to discuss homophobia from such an extreme polarity with an intellectual gay comedian and a run of the mill blue collar guy with an extreme homophobic attitude. It drops the scene down incredibly serious and then pulls it up last second with everything sounding funny and thoughtful, despite the word "fag" being said over a dozen times.

Watch it here.

2010-07-18T22:09:00.001-07:00

Pitchfork's Summer Album Release Schedule

A Brief Testimonial for Inception

2010-07-17T14:45:00.000-07:00

Inception was a fantastic movie. After finishing it I realized why Christopher Nolan doesn't want to do a third Batman installment. He knows his ability and I honestly would rather see another movie similar to Inception than the final chapter to the Batman series.

Sparks of brilliance like Momento have been seen, as well as some slight laterals (The Prestige was a successful miss. Now I finally get where he was trying to get at.

Without giving away too much of the movie (there's sooooo much to give away), Leonardo DiCaprio plays Dom Cobb, a sort of subconscious spy. He basically takes people's secrets by playing inside their dreams.

When I saw it I recognized it as, essentially, the most intellectually stimulating action/adventure blockbuster I've ever seen.

It was fantastic in the context of cinematography: it utilized that bold, dark environment (on a global basis) that made him interesting in the first two Batman movies. Very gothic, but so fucking sharp it made the entire story more understandable. Highly polished chaos. Without the use of amazing environments, the story of the subconscious would make the dreams seem less like dreams and more like sad imaginations.

It was fantastic in the context of soundtrack: Hans Zimmer made a fantastic accompaniment with just the right use of brash blockbuster-type epic instrumentals.

It was fantastic in the context of acting: Christopher Nolan put together a cast that I wish was utilized more often in Hollywood (negating DiCaprio, he's in everything good already). Ellen Page might have been the weakest link, but not by much. She really did her best to keep pace with the vets, and more surprisingly was Joseph Gordon-Levitt breakout. Going straight from 500 Days of Summer to Inception was jarring because I don't think anyone really realized his ability as Cobb's business partner Arthur. He blew it away, and at the same time played a dapper badass. Nolan took a cast of "oh I remember them from"'s and made them independently hold a pillar of the movie up. Even the secondary cast members (Cillian Murphy, Tom Berenger) were fantastic!

It was fantastic in the context of STORY: Now without the other stylistic abilities of this movie, it would be a lackluster attempt at movie. But because everything excelled, so did the entire plot. It's tough to really divulge, so I will be as subtle as possible. Watching this movie, it started off kind of slow. The initial action sequence was mild, but impacting. As it built up again, it took time, but the time eventually (weaving occasional action and subplots) led to the third act, which was, probably one of the best third acts I've seen in years. It was like biting into a cake that you realized was made from chocolate and thinking "oh awesome! Chocolate cake sounds great." and then suddenly realizing mid bite that between the chocolate is a layer of raspberry filling, which triggers the thought "oh fuck yes, I was not anticipating the delicious raspberry filling, this is perfect cake". It did that, but very frequently, and the layers were numerous. The layers cohesively led to the finale.

I think the most fantastic thing about Nolan's style and story writing is he makes it for the theater. He understands that large scale mentality that goes along with being excited for a movie when you actually go to the movies to watch something. Few movies put that into it like he does, and that explains why he spends so much money to make his movie good. James Cameron could spend a billion dollars to make something intense, but with a lot of sacrifices made for believability. Nolan refines everything, which would explain why it took him this long to make anything since The Dark Knight. His action sequences don't rely on the acrobatics more than the actual style. Most fight scenes are over very briefly and then transitions back to something else (or at times encompassing two or more fight scenes, which was the status quo in this movie) without missing a beat or putting too much emphasis on either. In fact, they would just layer the story development into something extraordinary.

Fantastic, fantastic piece of work.

4th of July

2010-07-14T18:02:00.000-07:00

I woke up really really hung over at 8:00 AM on the Fourth of July, 2010.

In someone else's house.

With no one else occupying the house.

Facedown.

On their couch.

In my underwear and one sock.

It was that sad pile of hangover that you normally make fun of when you see your friends engaged in.

It was a leather couch, and for those of you who don't know the difference, sleeping on a leather couch < sleeping on anything material.

Leather couches in fact have almost no sleeping value because, as the dead animal compresses against your own body (and the less clothed, the worse), you perspire exponentially more.

What made this situation worse was I had been in town for less than 48 hours.

What made it confusing (aside from every other occupant in the house being completely non-existent) was that all my stuff that was in my car (dufflebag, backpack) were lying neatly next to my pants, my watch, my wallet, my glasses, my t-shirt, and my other sock.

I am so sick that the only things that would make me feel better would be ice ICE water and an aspirin.

Well I am only half successful. The aspirin has clearly vanished from the household, although water is in high supply. Semi-victory.

Next I need to watch the television. I'm not sure what or how (as, this is a house occupied by individuals in their 50s, and a rule thumb, I assume those in that demographic own a television that requires more than two remotes. They had four. Desperately trying to turn on the television with three of the four remotes, I give up in a haze and move to the other room with a television in it. This was less fruitful, as this television has less remotes and more equipment hooked up to this television. I was able to turn on the surround sound, the satellite receiver that beams quality television to the television, however there was no button I could have touched that would have given said quality television to me.

I am in a serious conundrum. Clearly both televisions are not being polite to me, but there is no other choice. I am not in a state to drive my car home, let alone walk back to my car which was left parked at my other friend's house.

Back to the other television. As the haze lifted, my clarity became useful. Within a dozen clicks of two remotes, I am now with the power of the television. Success. However, this was not that sensation of euphoria I was anticipating. Now the daunting task of watching something on midday television.

Living as a financial independent for the last year has taken away my cable, and with that was my perception of cable. Whenever I go to someone's house I know has cable, I become excited at the idea of watching it. I imagine this cornucopia of quality viewing, which instantly becomes realized. This is not quality. Midday Sunday (on July 4th) makes me realize that you have little to settle with.

...and what's worse is the opportunity of what's on: Pisspoor marathons of standup comedy on Comedy Central

or Nathan's World Famous Hotdog Eating Championship.

Option two. "At least", I think to myself, "I'll be able to write about this while I'm here in this situation."

I was correct about that.

My first observation was all of the other places I've actually seen this and the difference between those times and now. I've actually probably seen this competition go down at least three different times.

One year my family and I went on a huge road trip across the western portion of the country, and on the Fourth of July, 2005, we stayed in Sturgis, South Dakota so we could see Mt. Rushmore on the Fourth. The evening before we as a family watched the reel of that year's competition in a pizza parlor in Sturgis. The entire time then I was thinking about how a Japanese man could take over such an American tradition.

Another year I went traveling to various parties and stopped and watched it in the evening in front of an awkward arrangement of people my age (17) and old people.

This year, however, was distinct in that there was the first time in 21 years that I had actually viewed this competition live. Not like, just the 10 minutes of hedonism. Apparently ESPN likes to broadcast at least an hour's worth of fun trivia and build-up to the fucking thing.

They show a lot of familiar faces from years past. Joey Chestnut, a mousy white guy in probably in his early 30s. Bald, and incredibly modest, considering his ability to ingest hotdogs apparently is infamous. Another strange guy with dreadlocks and an off-color bowler cap I recognize. Two things I don't remember was an incredibly attractive Asian women (known as "The Black Widow) and a lack of the other famous Asian, Kobayashi. I remember the year in Strugis he had won, and for several years now him and Chestnut went toe-to-toe, with Chestnut breaking the previous record.

This was clearly Chestnut's goal: to break that record again (of the number was I can't remember, but it really doesn't matter).

I should mention, again, that there was literally an hour of buildup to this actual competition. It was like the Superbowl if you had never followed football and didn't quite understand what was happening.

The most surprising thing about this broadcast was the production value. It was really really good. Although the announcers were definitely the B Squad, they really had their shit together. It almost appeared, actually it did appear, that ESPN had total rights to this competition. The interviews lining up the contestants (which were something like them asking them if they're hungry, to which the person would say "I'm starrrrrvvvvving." and then they'd cut back to the "action"). The demographic they're commercial advertising catered to seemed fairly obvious. Several erectile disfunction pills, a Chevrolet truck, something about Home Depot.

I think the thing broadcast suffered for two reasons:

-The first was a need to legitimize eating food as a support. Philosophically I rationalized it as consisting of (A) competition between people and (B) physical endurance.

ESPN's strategy was to "compare" specific aspects to other sports. My personal favorite was when the announcers compared Joey Chestnut calorically to Michael Phelps. Ok yes, they are both meatheads, but I feel this is borderline insulting to Phelps more than legitimizing of Chestnut. The best of it was the use of a diagram of how much of a fatty both these guys are (although one tends to burn all of theirs while one just attempts to expand an organ that doesn't need expanding[that's what she said])

-The second reason was their inarticulate nature of using puns. "That guy is really HAMMING it up out there." Wait, I'll stop right there. I'll neglect the better examples other than to say that in a solid minute of broadcasting, at one point two announcers used 3 hotdog related puns. Now I realize that this may not sound like a lot, but I was so "stuffed" with puns after 20 minutes that my weak constitutions almost vomited from this the rapidity of this "hamfisted" attempt at humor. No seriously, I ran to the kitchen sink to vomit, and I'm vaguely certain it was my intense focus on the shitty puns.

And so we get to the introductions. There's a crowd of probably 100 people sweating their asses off in Coney Island right now, while it's not even noon where I am. In fact I'm pretty sure I'm the only one awake at this hour of all the people who were up last night at Matt's house. Everyone is running through the crowd of people, all begging for high fives. They start each person out on this little backdrop for photographs and they have ridiculous poses. I've been corny many times, but these guys are "foam hat" corny. One is even wearing a Flavor Flav type of chain/clock. God dammit.

And then we get to the competition. It's strange because I have seen many contests in my day. In fact, I don't like watching most sports. The strange thing about this was how much more willing I was to watch any other sport that wasn't this. In the six minutes of competition (I think it was six minutes...) it didn't seem to progress. Most of them were delicate and precise. Chestnut was not of that disposition. He made hotdogs look both difficult to eat and less appetizing than my body at the time thought them to be. He would do this thing where he would grab three or four at the same time and shove them down harder with every chomp. I know what odd analogies you might be thinking right now, so I'll just say it; it looked like someone was giving an angry blowjob that would end with the penis being bitten off. He looked like I do when I ride my bike to work in the morning and I hit my least favorite hill. He looked like he hated his life for 6 minutes loudly thinking "I do this for money".

Now I suppose everyone rationalizes what they contribute to society when they work their given profession. I to this day can't seem to figure out what that might be for Joey Chestnut.

Two lame things happen this year in the competition. Chestnut didn't break his record (he still won, but in poor style), and Kobayashi apparently had a disagreement with the eating "union".

And then I had a huge craving for a hotdog, which was not available in the house.

Twenty-Hour-Work-Weeks and Gin Next To The Oscillating Fan: These Are The Summer Albums of 2010

2010-07-12T18:57:00.000-07:00

Before I begin this year's edition of the Summer Albums, I suppose it's necessary to explain how I decide to pick these albums:

-The way each of these albums are picked are based solely on how well they fluctuate within the constructs of the summertime mentality, by which I mean "which are most appropriate for being cathartic and sweaty". It's clearly a biased charade (as most of my lists are) of what makes me smile on the busride to work or while my friends and I are shit-housed at 5:00 pm. We openly acknowledge that these are specific one-time opportunities, and bless the fact that we have the soundtrack to supplement it.

These are the Summer Albums of 2010:

Avi Buffalo Avi Buffalo

This album takes something very innocent and makes it incredibly mature. Clearly the dying breath the influence of bands like West Indian Girl and The Autumn Leaf, Avi Buffalo (whom, it should be mentioned, is lead by a kid younger than myself) uses a very well orchestrated arrangement of surfy guitars and high fading vocals to come out with more than a few consistent singles.

Frank Sinatra Watertown

When one could consider the possibilities of a concept album, few think Frank Sinatra, and fewer think of Frank Sinatra and divorce. Frank Sinatra (quick review: Frank Sinatra is both from New York City, and... well, Frank Sinatra) composes 11 tracks only parelleling Carole King's Tapestry in lyrical content. Taking place in the fictional small town of "Watertown", Sinatra progresses through each song discussing how he, being a fictional blue-collar small town father, is left by his wife and the toil he struggles with keeping his shit together while trying to raise his kids. All is done in the old standards style of his greater hits while being accompanied by occasional spliced-in audio.

Drive By Truckers The Big To-Do

Many have agreed that The Hold Steady really disappointed a lot of people with their album Heaven is Whenever, but where I like to differ in thought is I believe that Drive By Truckers picked up where they dropped the alt-country ball. Much MUCH grittier than most stuff The Hold Steady does, and not to mention that Drive By Truckers have been doing this blue-collar type of shit longer. DBT use a lot of heavy fuzzy guitar and really really heavy lyrics (among other topics: a young man getting his first lapdance, alcoholism, and paternal neglect), but at the same time they manage to manipulate the songs to come off more innocent and carefree, which I suppose what makes them so good to begin with.

Ike & Tina Turner Workin' Together

The first time I ever EVER heard their cover of "Proud Mary" was both:

A. Mind blowing

B. Less than three weeks ago

It sometimes feels like Tina might have been overlooked as the best (THE BEST) soul singer of the 60s and 70s. People tend to focus on Ike's (may he burn in hell) brutality towards his wife during this time, but if you are able to neglect this time you'll notice almost flawless arrangements that were so carefully put together by Ike. His clear need to control his environment is taken out on both Tina and their musical arrangements. All the while Tina dances and sings as if to say "Fuck you, Ike. Fuck you so hard."

Tame Impala Innerspeaker

When I first read about this album, I thought they were suppose to be something closer to Wolfmother (apparently, you don't have to sound like AC/DC if your band is from Australia... weird). Neo-psychedilia can actually sound good sometimes, and this is that proof. It's just enough to take you on a trip and not sound as shoddy as most of Mars Volta's discography. It could be January, and this album is so well layered and not-stoner-sounding to put you in the right frame of mind to enjoy the sun. I really look forward to camping to this album. Perhaps the most mature album of 2010.

Miles Davis 'Round About Midnight

Miles Davis is great. Negating Bitches Brew almost everything he touches turns to gold. However nothing sounds exactly alike of his. 'Round About Midnight is the obvious "late night" album. I struggled at first to define a specific jazz album for this summer, but after a little thought this was the hands-down winner. I've spent several nights sweating tirelessly in the evenings and this is the only thing that really accompanies my lukewarm beer this nicely.

Earl Greyhound Suspicious Package

This is the... I guess one could say... Epic Summer Album. Earl Greyhound has been discussed quite extensively on this blog, but I suppose what was negated was the subtle flow of each track. Most songs individually play as legitimate singles, but collectively they bring together such an epic use of thundering drums, cascading vocals, and progressively intensifying guitar, with little to no filler.

The Rolling Stones Exile On Mainstreet

This is not a coincidence. My listening to this album has everything to do with its recent reissuing. I listen to a lot of nerdy podcasts who talk about music, and they all seem to love this. I personally hate The Rolling Stones, but even in their pretentious nature, this really is one of the best pieces of music I've ever heard. I have a strange spite against British blues revival, but my being able to relate to their debaucherous ways and imagining them sweating these tracks out in a basement in Paris make me content for a time. "Sweet Virginia" is too good to pass up, as it seems to encapsulate both where Bruce Springsteen was getting all his gusto from (seriously was not expecting the flagrant use of the Sax) and what they fuss was all about. People should spend less time summarizing the existence of the Stones, and instead break it off into two parts. This later half of the good years is why.

The Black Keys Brothers

I don't what The Black Keys did, but they got their mojo back. I now work at a radio station and each time I hear someone play a track from this album, it is immediately followed by the person playing the track saying "this album is so fucking good". This is not like their old stuff. People expecting a carbon copy of Thickfreakness or Rubber Factory will not be so much disappointed as thrown off. This is clearly the work of a progression in sound, but it doesn't come off loose or shoddy. This might be the tightest collection of work they have put out, but this only comes from really trying to broaden their horizons.

Guided By Voices Bee Thousand

I hate the 90s. Music from this time was shoddy and falsely accused of being inspiring and interesting in technique. This is has been my mentality for a long time. I like my music tight and articulate and well put-together. This is that first crack into finally "getting it". This may have to do with the chaotic nature that turns a lack of composure into something that feels put together without having any choice. If you stuggle to find meaning in life when things make no sense at all, I suppose this is that catalyst. It's very 90s, they use the word "rape" at strange points, and they sound like they wear a lot of flannel, but for some reason, I just "get it".

The Pack A.D. We Will Computers

I hate to pigeonhole this band, but they really do sound like an all female version of The White Stripes. They tend to border closer to the contemporary, but if its the closest I get to a "guilty pleasure", I'm okay with that. Very eloquent in their brevity, The Pack A.D. are two women from Vancouver, B.C. (that makes them two of my most hated things; Canadians and a band that is often compared to The White Stripes), they really are quite fantastic. Their a little simple and there's certainly room for improvement. But they nail something together I can't quite put my finger on, it certainly is sophmoric, but somehow they make it work.

"I'll play it and tell you what it is later."

2010-06-26T17:09:00.000-07:00

Recently I've dived into a very large collection of jazz between the 1950s and 1960s. It's amazing to think that some of the most square sounding music could have such a chalky history of drug abuse. For example, I would have never guessed that this guy had such an intense herion addiction:

I think part of the allure of this music (and I go from everywhere, Mingus, Coltrane, Getz, Davis, Monk, anybody) during this time, you start to figure out more what the music is about. I mean that in two ways:

- The first is the idea that any great jazz composer couldn't be able to demonstrate their ability to create in any other way. Hearing how singers sing and then how jazz artists actually speak (honestly, Miles Davis' voice sounds worse than Tom Waits'), it makes you realize that this is their medium. While people focus so much on how one sings and how the arrangement needs vocals, the fact that its stripped away is so refined.

- The second is the story behind the music. Bill Evans, Miles Davis, and Charlie Parker all had serious drug addictions. In fact, a lot of them didn't live very long. Listening to Bill Evans without knowing how much the man struggled makes the music feel empty and listless, but understanding it puts so much raw emotion into a keyboard. Miles Davis was an incredibly angry man and knowing that makes you realize how aggressive and intense his message is.

Few other times (since the 1940s) have really been able to convey that intensity. That's why I would rather listen to Vince Guaraldi's soundtrack he wrote for the film A Charlie Brown Christmas in July than have to tolerate the choppy compositions that are ham-fisted together. Contemporary jazz is so shameful because the art isn't really appreciated. The tempo is dropped and mood was lightened in the last three decades.

After meeting a former jazz musician and having him tell me personal stories about famous musicians during the time I really got where the vanguard was coming from. It makes people you had no idea existed become fascinating because of their music. You go back and you imagine Charles Mingus being so large and violent like he was thought to be, and you hear Mingus Ah Um and you really understand where his chaotic sound and bass come from, having instruments abruptly chime in and out.

People easily remember a band because of a familiar voice, but I think it's just as easy to do the same with solid jazz sound. They all sound distinct as a cohesive body AND with the associated instrument of the composer.

I guess my point to this is that I feel people too easily shun some of the most intense music one could listen to. Many people have been moved by lyrical songs (i.e. when I drove for the first time at 16 by myself listening Jimi Hendrix's track "Are You Experienced?") but it's just as easily capable listening to "Waltz for Debby" or "Better Get Hit In Yo' Soul". Jazz is better at intensifying and soothing the psyche than any other genre.

Part I: A Response To Something I Wrote A Long Time Ago or "Country Music: The Sequel"

2010-06-16T01:04:00.000-07:00

The aesthetics of the city, even after residing here for the better part of three years, is still jarring to me. We didn't have homeless people occupying vacant space, we had cattle. It's still difficult identifying myself here as I wasn't raised like this. I grew up with a "Dukes of Hazzard" mentality, and perhaps it's considered an outdated outlook on friendship.

I grew up with a brotherly camaraderie. Four specific friends that were of the "thick and thin" disposition. With this time my peak were two specific summers; June-September 2007 and June-August 2008. During which time I came to a point with why I'm rambling right now: Country Music.

I should preface that I began scribbling this at a diner knowing I promised myself to get the juices flowing. I am now drinking probably the biggest fucking iced tea I think I've ever been served:

The man next to me is discussing some sort of drug rehabilitation and divulging insane stories to the woman he's eating dinner with, and for some reason I keep hearing the sound of duct tape being pulled off of the roll.

...so naturally my mind escapes to the idea and history of country music.

Now I preface this story like that because my "modern" experience with country music came out of those two summers. Before that I kind of resented it. Mostly because after the 90s it became more beach/hypermasculine. Now while it's debatable that this genre has ALWAYS been hypermasculine, it lost whatever subtlety it had intact.

I grew up in rural Washington (and it was RURAL in 1993). My family moved there in 1993 after being born in Bakersfield, California. Let me explain to you something about Bakersfield. In the 1930s during the heart of the Dust Bowl's destruction of mid-western farmland, Bakersfield became a final destination for much of the migrant population looking for anything that was better off. In this time Bakersfield began to develop its own music scene based on a, I guess one could say, "unrefined" version of country . Let me put it to you this way: in the early part of last decade when garage-rock took over with a dirtier rhythm influence, this was country's version of that. Bakersfield/Merle Haggard were The White Stripes of Nashville Country.

Now I was BORN there. It gathered my attention so much so that I'd later come to realize 21 years later that in my Junior year of college, I'd write a qualitative analysis of "Okie from Muskogee" because of that.

So there's that subtle influence... but this is deeper. My mother loved Reba Mcentire and early Shania Twain. My father was somewhat partial to Clint Black. At the age of 6 my two favorite songs of all time were Brooks and Dunn's "Boot Scootin' Boogie" and Alan Jackson's "Chattahoochee". I heard every popular country single between 1994 and 1998 without missing beat. Now at this time it seemed really good. It had this duality in both a neo-traditionalism (Randy Travis "King of the Road") and sheer enormous popularity (Garth Brooks' entire career). It had a fucking pulse. Lyrics were somewhat structured and evocative. I realize it now that starting my life hearing that was a great introduction. Believe it or not Shania Twain at the early point of her career (before she crossed over) was almost par.

...so let's skip ahead using major stepping stones in my influences: Disco, Frank Sinatra, Chumbuwumba, Boyz II Men, pop radio, Green Day, The White Stripes, most of the 2000s, now. Now in that second to last step I lost my roots. After Johnny Cash passed away in 2003, I grew to love him slowly, but as far as much else, I thought it was useless and hated the music. I think it was a combination of me being out of the game for ten years and experiencing the shit-show that was the country music scene at this time. The emergence of Brad Paisley, Kenny Chesney, Tim McGraw, Trace Atkins, and the devolution of Toby Keith all caused the downfall. By the time Taylor Swift showed up it was all over anyways. The early mark of it was started with the beach orientation... and then Jimmy Buffet showed up.

TO BE CONTINUED

Part II; further examination into the duality of hypermasculinity and the beach, extreme patriotism, and the triumph of brotherhood and nostalgia.

This year just ceases to amaze me.

2010-05-31T19:50:00.000-07:00

2010-05-21T02:51:00.000-07:00

The Black Keys have finally hit their stride again. This time with more subtlety. In fact, upon further review, there's a lot of things out there that are really rocking some shit.

This year so far appears to be very much a mix between mediocre debuts and solid returns from a whole slue of the vanguard... and by vanguard I mean people who have come out with more than just a single good album.

It's late. I should get some sleep.

Mid Quarter Review transcends into something else.

2010-05-07T19:25:00.000-07:00

Part of my reemergence into life has consisted of several things:

-Quitting smoking (FINALLY)

-Continuous running

-Having the next six months completely mapped out

-Getting the job I've always wanted

But one in particular is something I never thought I'd have to do, and that was to immerse myself once again into modern music.

I spent a lot of time this quarter going back to what I've loved for a long time.

But something got a hold of me that was slightly geriatric, a distaste for the modern scene.

I put a lot of money into a very well polished record collection, and at the same time woed about the lack of taste in what I saw in music in the year 2009.

It's now that sad (?) point in my life where I now realize that music simply does not cater to how I see fit. This is ironic because music has almost never done that* and yet I seem to be fixed on this idea.

Part of this might also be due to the fact that I began listening to beat and rhythm in an advanced, sort of fetishistic way at about the same time that a great turnover in music was beginning.

Garage rock was finally being articulated upon. Influences from soft rock were being polished to something better. It was as if the Quentin Tarantinos and the Jason Reitmans and the P.T. Andersons of the music world were finally being influenced and elaborating on what they love.

And the best thing about it was there was this popularized statement about it. Nitsuh Abebe wrote a great essay** about how indie is no longer a movement but a franchise. To me this was my moment to cherish. I remember after my family had moved into our new house and I started watching music oriented television they would have whole shows dedicated to the Phantom Planets and The Caesars type bands of the world. A show specifically was called "Next Big Thing". I didn't realize then, but it had appeared that the market had become self aware because the whole show was dedicated to nobodies that you were to call in and vote for***. They all sounded like The Kaiser Cheifs but to me this was that unintentional development of my full understanding. They tried to sell more shit to me, but I in return got angry at Metallica and apprehended The Secret Machines albums.

...and so you cut to 2010. People are already starting to "define" the decade's moves and shakes (whereas it was will be two more decades before we can actually get our meathooks around it). I look at the vast number of albums I own now and grow weary when I hear the last shreds of indie from emerging bands and the final wheezes of the once great giants (I think it's safe to say that I was disappointed by nearly every band I love these last two days).

This is because I am now an old man in such a rapid moving society. In 2006 when The Strokes released their last album SPIN did a cover story on them and the author had written about how had The Strokes released their first album in the early 1970s they would have made three Is This It's, two Room on Fire's, and one First Impression of Earth. Some of you may not understand that reference, but what it's saying is there was this availability to relax and move around in your space with music before the demand of instantaneous everything in our society. After broadcasting today on the radio and thumbing through hundreds of albums of bands I love and stumbling upon a resurrection of one in particular (I'll explain later) that I didn't know existed, I finally understood this. I honestly believe that, through a transactional analogy, if Led Zeppelin released their first album today, they would have stopped at Led Zeppelin. It's the reason nobody remembers hardly anything from the 90s unless they've reinvented themselves (be it intentional or not).

This tradeoff comes with the availability of all of this music literally minutes away.

...and so I sit here in truly the most jarring paradox. Would I have been able to experience this revelation without the use of the thing that destroyed how music grows?

People older than myself enjoy the art of bitching to me about music's lack of development, and I couldn't agree more. Unless technology is dismantled and society becomes both simultaneously healthy and patient once again, we will never have such a fluid ability to articulate our joys.

This is why Danger Mouse and James Mercer are now collaborating like retirees. This why James Murphy is fading and dressing like fucking Bryan Ferry. These people would have become legends in a much larger way then they are now.

As Wayne Coyne's hair grows progressively grayer, so does everything I love. It's a tough day to swallow when the new bands I enjoy look my age.

But with this comes a last hurrah. For you see this whole thought into 2001-2007 is simply what recalls when I listen to a particular album.

Earl Greyhound's Suspicious Package

Everything just stated comes to mind hearing an album like this.

What you probably don't know is that Earl Greyhound was one of those next big things that existed during that self aware heyday. In 2006 they released Soft Targets which was simultaneously hugely buzzed and terribly overlooked. In my desert island, that might be one of the top three. It was so organic, and yet so respecting of its influences that it came off as blooming and insatiable.

In four years they have not released a single LP (or EP for that matter) until this week (the album you see above), and it is beautiful. I mostly assumed that they were split and done. Instead, they did disappear but only to work on their craft and become more serious than all the other reemergence. It is not a Roky Erickson or a late-years Johnny Cash, because they never were well known. They are the same, without the label of once-was. It's as if they fell asleep for four years and awoke last week without the fucked out feeling the rest of us feel in our early adulthood, and yet I realize that they were there for all of it.

I feel the tree in this album is very symbolic of what has changed in merely four years. The tree is now is fruiting electronic bands like no other while we sit and relish in what once was.

My only hope is that they one day, everything will become as genuine as this band.

*negating 2003-2004

** This was from a Pitchfork article. I'm never that scholastic.

***Even more ironically, it was sponsored by Tower Records

The Most Polarizing Issue Ever.

2010-05-03T18:32:00.000-07:00

Ok I've been put in a situation where everyone seems to be polarized.

This is the red state/blue state argument of hip music: Is MGMT's Congratulations good?

Kind of. I've heard both sides of the argument, and this is the argument:

I'll be generalizing both sides as "good" (as in "I thought it was good") and "bad" (as in "I thought it was bad")

ahem:

Good: MGMT's new album is good.

Bad: No it's not.

Good: (sounding wavy in tone) Yes it is.

Bad: No it isn't. Popularity and record sales have infected their sound and now it's bad.

Good: No. It's a concept album. They're trying to experiment a new sound.*

Bad: Wait, wait. Pet Sounds was a concept album. Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band was a concept album. Congratulations is NOT a concept album.

Good: Okay you can't compare everything to the Beatles and then say it sucks. That has to be a fallacy.

Bad: Okay, fine. How is Congratulations a concept album?

Good: It holds a theme of dealing with fame and fortune and experiencing it as a new reality, they would say another dimension.

Bad: Poor songsmithing doesn't mean you can get away was a loose thematic approach to being loaded.

Good: Fuck you.

Bad: Fuck you, too.

(Good and Bad do it while accidentally leaving MGMT's Congratulations on the iPod dock.)

*end scene*

It's difficult to come back after a very decent (some would say great, but I wouldn't) freshman album (ask Vampire Weekend, The Strokes, The Darkness, Coldplay, and most bands who first hit it big between 2000-2009*), and MGMT is no exception.

While I do enjoy the intricacies, you cannot not give the people what they are not expecting, but in that same vane can't rehash the old shit (or else feel the wrath of critical bloggers**). What I'm saying here is MGMT is fucked. They flew to high and are now orbiting accidentally around the planet until they burn up into the earths atmosphere.

But I enjoyed it, I'll just never remember it when I write my decade list in 2020.

*Despite Spoon still clamping on for dear life

**Self-awareness

The XX "Islands"

2010-04-23T12:17:00.000-07:00

A Brief Testimonial for Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings

2010-04-19T10:58:00.000-07:00

Now It's not really a secret that I love funk and soul, specifically from the 60s and 70s.

and last year I posted an enthusiasm for Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings' last album 100 Day, 100 Nights, but this time I thnk this might be the best album I will hear this year.

There is such a strong connection to the music that it sounds like a b-side to something much bigger from the golden age of Marvin Gaye, Tina Turner, Al Green, and Aretha Franklin.

For those of you who don't know who she is, a quick reference is she was the lady, assisted by the Dap Kings whom sang the cover of Woody Guthrie "This Land is Your Land" at the beginning of the film Up In The Air.

The authenticity and integrity of this album is so fucking genuine and appreciative of its elders that I question my own knowledge of how far the genre has traveled.

I'm moving this from a "don't buy" to a "sell". I'm kidding, this is a fantastic album.

Things I did over Spring Break

2010-04-14T14:56:00.001-07:00

Over break I watched a lot of Sober House with Dr. Drew (because I could) and watching him dealing with addiction seems a lot like a highly abusive relationship (partially because it is).

Especially in the realm of seeking help. The guy from that band who sang "Butterfly" kept using the phrase "So you're really giving up on me?"when talking to Dr. Drew.

and the response that validated the thought was “Well, this is the LAST time…”

Also I discovered the fine art of quilting.

Tight jeans and a v-neck in Illwaco, Washington usually go together like house plants and a can of raviolis, but I persevered.

I’ll explain:

Over the break I went to a quilt show with my family. It was mostly for my mother who digs the stitch. As I was walking around it was like trying to understand art before when my favorite artist was Norman Rockwell (he still is technically, but then again my favorite movie is still Ferris Beuller’s Day Off). Anyways after trying to intensely stare at this large compilation of fabrics I gave up and asked my mom the appeal and art of quilting.

To my surprise I was quite enlightened. Much like all other mediums there’s a lot of different techniques, with stitching, with pattern layouts, with whether they use a machine, the types of batting, etc.

So cut to me staring at quilts in a Elk’s Lodge type of building (with an eye for what I’m looking for) and taking a true appreciation for the art side by side with a majority of women over 60.

Also, there’s something to be said about the lack of snobbery. I would like one day to see a record store or an art museum curated strictly by 60-year-old women (negating their taste, but simply their approachability.)

Now I’ve just created a mental image of old ladies sitting outside of the fine arts building smoking cigarettes and wearing ironic sunglasses.

Also I tried to baptize myself in the Pacific Ocean, and it was highly unsuccessful.

(more to come as I remember)

Delilaaaaaaaaaah

2010-04-14T14:41:00.000-07:00

Months back I was working a very very very very very very very long shift

Four hours patrolling on foot followed by another eight driving around campus.

This shift also started at 8pm.

A lot of weird shit congeals into thought when you watch the sun come up after being fatigued.

This was back during the holiday season, so the main things on the radio were npr holiday pieces and a straight sets of music on the local channels.

But before the shift to daylight there became one thing I haven’t heard in years: Delilah.

Years back my sister and I use to listen to this woman on the local soft rock station during the holiday season. Delilah was on all of the time, but during the November/December programming, she was forced (?) to play holiday hits.

A couple years ago, to our discontent, we discovered that apparently John Tesh took over, and Delilah was rendered useless to lull the masses to sleep with contemporary Sheryl Crow songs.

(Part of my despise with terrestrial radio comes with a large knowledge of its demographical appeasements)

ANYWAYS here I am barely awake operating a motor vehicle and all of the sudden I hear the familiar jingle of a bygone era “Deeeeeee-liiiiiiiiiiii-laaaaaaaaaaaah”.

Oh the familiar nostalgia! Delilah, you sultry woman with your love for the same Bing Crosby/David Bowie duet being repeated too many a time! How I missed you so!

I hear that same tone of voice I heard a long time ago announcing songs and reading off fan emails about uplifting stories of struggle overcome.

Well, apparently shit is different.

Now the problem is not change in format, but rather it has to do with clarification of her anonymity. Delilah is not who I think she was.

First off, I had no idea Delilah was a single mother with a troubled past husband. This doesn’t bother me. Rather I feel this demonstrates strength.

She tells many stories of her children (who it seems haven’t aged since the last time I heard her) and has quite a few children call in talking about what they want from Santa.

Her familiar nature seems the same until it take a total left turn.
What I didn’t realize about Delilah is that she is a raging Christian. Not like “I have my beliefs although they will not affect the literal way I frame my show”. It’s more like the opposite of that.

And every caller over the age of 18 is in a heterosexual relationship. I question either her call screening or her orientation of the show.

For about 15 minutes I seriously considered calling into the call screener as a straight man missing my girlfriend during work, and then when the switch to the actual Delilah came I would throw my best fake story in about how my boyfriend is in Seattle and how I miss him for the beginning of Hanukah… just to see if she actually knew how to handle the situation.

Now back to the Christian thing. She did this thing where she had the “subtle” tone in her voice that you’re going to burn in hell if you didn’t believe in Jesus as your personal savior.

She had one listener sent an email to her saying the following the story.

This woman is listening to Delilah after getting of the late shift of her place of business (I swear to god [ha!] every revelation story starts off this way) driving down this random highway thinking about her adherence to Agnosticism when she hears (wait for it, wait for it) a Faith Hill song about Jesus and Christmas. Suddenly as this song comes on she notices a farm coming up in her peripheral vision. As she approaches this farm on the highway she sees on the barn is an illuminated cross made out of Christmas lights. And this woman suddenly feels that something “higher up” has called to her with this faith, saying something like “well… I don’t know, I’m not positive but I think someone was speaking to me.

And then Delilah goes “Well, there’s something to think about.”

Then a really really old Christmas song.

Fuck you, Delilah.

Ok first thing:

I now know why Portland, Oregon no longer chooses Delilah for quality soft rock hits to lull you to sleep.

Second, when did Christmas become such an aggressively Christian celebration? Or has it?

I remember as a younger person I use to get very angry about news stories reporting a Christmas tree being taken down for freedom of religion reasons.

To a certain extent, I still do, but for different reasons. Christmas to me means nothing about accepting a personal savior or celebrating a new born king.

Christmas mean the following:
Hedonism
Guilt because of hedonism
Overcoming hedonism via giving
Satisfaction of overcoming hedonism
Drinking too much whiskey, watching It’s a Wonderful Life, and then passing out in your old bedroom.

Now, where has Christmas gone wrong?

Agenda.

Atheism is a growing trend in our society (not that I really adhere to much of anything these days). Make Chirstmas cool. Or rather, change the agenda. Make strictly a “home for the holidays/give to the needy” vibe.

Because as I sat there in that Dodge Colorado with little to do I realized that we hear so many Christmas classics because the new shit is much like the Republican Party, overly Christianized. Bring it back to its roots (and here I’m picturing something slightly Mad Men-esque). Everyone dresses in a shirt, gets church out of their system the night before, tosses a highball, and socializes while stuffing their craws with excessive amounts of starches. None of this really takes place.

I mean, Christmas as an adult never equates lots of fun with family. Rather the holiday entices a little bit of aggravation more than anything.

But at least we could try and sell it back to the gold standard (ok I promise this is the last political analogy). The music was catchier, less morale compass, and usually involved alcohol. Except “Santa Baby”. Holy god is that song awful.

So boil down Christmas: Alcohol, Family, Hedonism.

Religious undertones are killing Christmas music.

New She & Him Music Video

2010-03-09T10:47:00.000-08:00

She & Him "In The Sun"

First off, this validates more the excitement I have for the new album. However, I also recognize that it's easy as fuck to make catchy pop... and seeing as they did it before I have a lot of confidence in them this time as well.

Second off, I really want to hate on Zooey Deschanel, but my best efforts seem to be rendered useless.

Finally, when did M. Ward start looking like Robert Downey Jr.?

Movies.

2010-03-08T21:55:00.000-08:00

Starting off from youngest to oldest:

First off, Toy Story 3.

Nothing excites me more than raising my middle finger to children with the "back in my day" mentality. All these little Wall-E and Finding Nemo Disney kids have no idea what to expect when millions of young adults and college students invade their territory and drop some serious knowledge on them.

Tron Legacy. This brings out like no other my nerd side. I love Jeff Bridges (so topical!), and I'm glad to see him come back as the crazy, (most likely) stoned bastard he is to reprise the best remake this year. Nothing says you're slightly original by making a movie that ADDS to the first movie by having it be shinier.

Iron Man 2. I have never even seen the first one, but:

A. I love Robert Downey Jr.

B. I love Mickey Rourke looking very Mickey Rourke-esque.

C. What the fuck happened to Don Cheadle?

Robin Hood. Now what bothers me about this (and consequently intrigues me) is that the original concept for this movie was called "Nottingham". Crowe was suppose to play the Sheriff of Nottingham and the villain was Robin Hood. I'm not sure how that wouldn't have worked better but I'm interested to see how a slightly bloated Australian is going to play the hero was known to be nimble as a fox.

Finally Inception. Years ago a friend introduced me to Momento, and at the time I discredited. I look back now and realize that Christopher Nolan is truly the most original big budget man in Hollywood. To this moment now, I still have no fucking clue what this movie is about, but I'm faithful enough to believe that whatever this is, it will be fantastic.

Sorry about the wait, folks. Can I get you started with something to drink?

2010-03-08T21:27:00.000-08:00

My sincerest apologies. I think a major part of owning a blog would be specifically... blogging.

The joy that not having to cite sources and check facts is one that has escaped me temporarily

...and by "temporarily" I mean "for two months".

Anyways as soon as I finish this paper about Merle Haggard's correlation with texts cited from Kent Ono and John Sloop's definition of vernacular discourse, I PROMISE to get back on the wagon.

I've been out for a while getting distracted grading papers and writing my own, but that is no excuse.

...and that also doesn't mean I've lost my ability to write in ways that masturbate my brain (i.e. critical thinking skills).

Some topics I'll be discussing very VERY soon are:

-I need to post some hedonistic trailers that make me feel like a 14-year-old (first and foremost). This one might turn into more.

-"The Unsolicited Defense of Sarah Palin's Handjob"

-"Deeeeeliiiiilaaaahh: The Forgotten Post"

-"A Response To Something I Wrote A Long Time Ago or 'Country Music: The Sequel'"

-"The Glorious Age of Debauchery"

-"Libertarian Thought vs. The Tea Party: A Slightly Critical Analysis"

I'll be good. I promise.

2010-02-08T10:19:00.001-08:00

Oscar Thoughts

2010-02-03T14:44:00.000-08:00

It's hard for me to rationalize Sandra Bullock winning anything, especially for a storyline that is soooooo fucked out and tacky. This is like Crash for soccer moms.

I've seen better pixar movies than Up. Wall-E blew my socks off. Up just blew me... wait.

AND THIS ONE GETS THE FUCKING OSCAR NOD?!

A Serious Man was a great movie, no doubt behind that statement, but there was so much deserving besides that movie. The acting was great, the subtlety fantastic, the loose parable very enjoyable. Come on, Coen Brothers. We know you are awesome, but pass the baton to Bigelow and Tarantino.

I still really need to see A Single Man. I'm surprised Tom Ford can make one movie can make it this far in a year. Serious props.

Speaking of which, what the fuck is with movies being made with stories of men in the 1960s and having similar plots and titles? ... AND GETTING OSCAR NOMINATIONS

Seriously though, I'm surprised Tom Ford gets an oscar nod this quickly.

But if anyone saw Hunger last year, my god, how did it not get anything?! It was twice the movie any of these nominations are!

Clint Eastwood is a seriously overrated filmmaker (I'm referring to Invictus). Not actor-wise, but I've seen two of his "better movies" that he directed and they were borderline awful and tacky. Fuck Invictus, I'm done with your positive messages of hope movies, you are awful at all caveats.

Going back to motivational movies, as far as I'm concerned, all sports oriented postive message movies with little subtlety should have stopped production after Rudy. No oscars! Ever!

My nomination for best picture this year: Rudy

(start the campaign now)

Movies that deserve everything they get:

Inglourious Basterds - What was best about this was how much of a message Tarantino had about his own career and Hollywood. Half of the movie was gratuitous violence, and the other half was amazing dialogue.

Up In The Air- I think Jason Reitman could use a little more range, but at the same he is really climbing his own mountain. Clooney I think gave the best performance this year, and both supporting actresses really nailed there roles (hence, both of them getting nominations as well)

In The Loop- (not only was this the funniest movie of last year, but the most overlooked. I really hope it get the best adapted screenplay).

The Hurt Locker- The "ferociously suspenseful" is an understatement. I watched this because I was bored, and I finished it with my eyes wide open. Jeremy Renner (who got nominated) was a great lead, and with the editing, it was perfect and (pardon the cliche) completely nail-biting.

District 9- Best storyline. I was surprised the main character didn't get nominated because he hit the entire range from goofy and neurotic to frightened badass in the span of 2 hours. The palette cleanser of sci-fi movie.

The Fantastic Mr. Fox- (also really funny, also better than Up. Bill Murray as a badger lawyer>floating house) I am not cussing you.

Also:

AVATAR WAS NOT WORTHY OF AN OSCAR. Avatar was overly priced and the dialogue was absolutely awful. AWFUL.

Okay, not totally awful. Overrated. The visuals, stunning. But there is no way that visuals cover bad dialogue and a played out storyline. $11 for a ticket and fucking goggles? No. NO.

Shitty editing, predicable story and too fucking long.

It also doesn't help that there's a whole blue people fetish going now. Thanks, James Cameron.

Vinyl Recommendations

2010-02-01T23:28:00.000-08:00

(the middle one is CCR's Green River)

Just a little James Brown for a Monday Evening.

2010-02-01T23:27:00.001-08:00

2010-01-25T08:15:00.001-08:00

The Nowies (Best of 2009)

2010-01-20T12:59:00.000-08:00

I would like to apologize for my lack of initiative on creating this list, but I feel no obligation to post this BEFORE 2010 or IMMEDIATELY AFTER 2010. Fuck you, 2010. Analytical thought doesn't resign on January 1st, and I really had to think about what constituted:

THE 20 BEST ALBUMS OF 2009

20. The Mountain Goats The Life of the World to Come

The Mountain Goats within one year have become one of my favorite bands. Whodathunk one year ago an man who suffers from Asperger's Syndrome and records shit into a boom box would glench my alltime top 50? Regardless of there's prized title (haha... yeah), I loved the direction of clean, solid tracks all inspired by the bible. It's like if Christian rock didn't suck.

19. The Flaming Lips Embryonic

I have been waiting for this album for WAY too long. I loved At War With The Mystics, and I totally didn't get that here. But then I realized that I shouldn't have expected their polished tracks of psychedelia, rather they were unpolished. It was noises, it was random, it was lyrically insane, it had Karen O for christ sake. Going back an listening to the entire catalog chronologically made me realize that this was the only next logical step for The Flaming Lips, and acceptance in the first step to recovery.

18. The Fiery Furnaces I'm Going Away

The Fiery Furnaces have a near and dear place to my heart, but like so much of the vanguard this year, they all came up a little short. That's not to say they weren't good (the wouldn't be on this list if they weren't), but it definitely cut corners and the hooks and melodies, often encouraging a little avant garde in the bad way. Regardless I loved their take on 70s influence and was a mainstay of the summer.

17. Fool's Gold Fool's Gold

Completely in Spanish and music videos of old men in speedos, Fool's Gold stole my heart with very catchy jingles and tropical theme. The inverted authentic Vampire Weekend if you will. Afropop doesn't inspire them, they inspire Afropop.

16. Atlas Sound Logos

Atlas Sound doesn't have much going for it on the surface, but when you realize that members of Animal Collective are willing to chip in, you know you have something going for it. "Walkabout" might have been the best song I heard all last year, and for some reason sounds great when you're waiting for the bus.

15. Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele The Good Feeling Music of Dent May & His Magnificent Ukulele

Another contribution (via signing them to Paw Tracks) of Animal Collective (hey, guess which album is high ranked on my album list?), Dent May is an old man with a ukulele and a mission, and oddly enough HE FUCKING STICKS THE LANDING. Every one of his songs (particularly "College Town Boy" and "Meet Me in the Garden") could arguably be a single and easily the greatest sing along album of 2009. I just wish I could get my friends to listen, as what I've described is a hard sell.

14. Kings of Convenience Declaration of Dependence

Did anyone really not like this album? Wait, better question; does anyone not like Kings of Convenience? Acoustic heart-tugging track after acoustic heart-tugging track, they make a man want to crave a beer and hammock as they reminisce about past loves and adolescence. Notch the belt a third time with this album, for they are three for three now. Who say s you can't rock three times in a row in the 2000s?

13. Grizzly Bear Veckatimest

I'm stil not sure what a Veckatimist is. Chuck Klosterman once wrote about a fictional man who use to sit at the same barstool in a diner every day for years and if you asked him which chair he sat at he couldn't tell you. I feel this is analogous to this album and I. If you gave me a track from this album and asked me who sang it (negating Two Weeks) I could tell you it feels very familiar, but I couldn't name the band. Sometimes you don't need to know what you're listening to in order to know if feels comfortable, warm and enjoyable. Oh, poverty, muggy heat, and PBR, thy name is Grizzly Bear.

12. Dinorsaur Jr. Farm

I mean, really how does someone not love these aging rock stars. So much has been right this year, and that statement I made about shitty vanguard albums need not apply here. "Over It" gave me one of the best videos this year. Watching old guys ride skateboards and bmx bikes made me realize that maybe all the parents with facebooks still hold the coolness baton, and that you should never doubt an album of a reunited band just because U2, Areosmith, and everyone from the 80s sucked. Perhaps the most sincere and honest album of 2009.

11. The Avett Brothers I and Love and You

Gee, I wonder if someone from Bellingham wrote this list... I really didn't want to like this album. At first, I was just kind of confused as to why Rick Rubin decided that a bunch of mediocre hicks deserved his pro bono production (maybe because the lord, err I mean Rick Rubin, works in mysterious ways). Yet despite all my grudge (mostly due to a thousand different critics claiming it was one of the best of the decade), there's so much to like about this. The lyrics are rough and sincere, the chords simple, the whole thing, gorgeous, sad, and beautiful.

THE TOP TEN

10./10. Jay-Z The Blueprint 3 & Raekwon Only Built 4 Cuban Linx... Pt. II

These are both #10 for a few reasons. These are both the two biggest signs of maturity in the rap game. These are the two most successful returns of highly influential albums (The Blueprint & Only Built 4 Cuban Linx). After what a shit year 2008 was for rap, it's good to see two incredibly mature takebacks. Raekwon might have made the best redefining of subject matter in Rap in 2009 ("Pyrex Vision" might be the darkest thing I heard all year), and Jay-Z might have made the best critique of modern Rap in 2009.

9. The Pains of Being Pure at Heart The Pains of Being Pure at Heart

It was a great year for Slumberland Records, and this was their defining moment. 2009 was definitely that transitory year of rock, and I love the quotation of 80s indie pop/rock that TPOBPAT (a horrible acronym, I know) toyed with. Probably the most fluid thing I listened to all year, and so god damn cheeky and happy I had to take a shot of insulin when I finished it.

8. Neon Indian Psychic Chasms

Neon Indian won my coveted prize (again, haha... yeah) of my summer anthem, in which it beat a close fought battle against Dinosaur Jr.'s "See You". I spent three months relatively unemployed and drunk. Thus how could Neon Indian's "Deadbeat Summer" not win? The funny thing was this album didn't come out for a much longer time than the single itself (which was sad because it didn't win my summer album award (quick sidenote: I'm not making a list of seasonal song awards, this is merely for smart assery), but it totally could have been. With the five thousand different genres that semi-spawn this year, it was a joy to hear one that had their shit together. New Wave/Electronica/Psychelia never sounded so good.

7. Neko Case Middle Cyclone

For the record, Neko never fails me. I would give her this spot on my list for her album cover alone. But she hit something deep and very mature with this. I was even convinced that she couldn't get as good as she did on Fox Confessor but like the sexy former Tacoma resident that she is, she proved me wrong again. Her rapid excitement on "This Tornado Loves You" to her semi-cheesiness on "Don't Turn Your Back on Mother Earth"*, it's flawless to the core.

*You mean it's not about the environment? What?!

6. Mayer Hawthorne A Strange Arrangement

The story about this album; Andrew Cohen, a semi-decent dj from Ann Arbor, on a whim, had been recording musical tracks of 70s inspired soul and funk, when a Stones Throw Records head heard it, he was sure it was a set of rarities from the era. When they realized it was this goofy looking white guy doing the whole thing, they signed his ass and gained the attention of everyone from Justin Timberlake to M.I.A. This album is so good it almost crashed my computer. Being the white funk and soul enthusiast that I am, this was the best surprise I received this year.

5. Phoenix Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

Would anyone really dispute this? Not really. This was Phoenix's Dark Side of the Moon. The most flawless tracks they've combined into a compact disk. While French Pop died in the late 90s, the reason this is so popular and "refreshing" is no one has heard that genre in so fucking long that this is considered unique. The truth is, they're the last ones of the league to still put up a fight, and they won big this year, gaining notoriety with everyone from car commercial consumers to Pitchfork readers. The greatest success overall this year? Yeah, pretty much.

4. Girls Album

Where in the hell did this album come from? With almost no hype (fuck you, Mt. St. Helens Vietnam Band), Girls beat everyone to a pulp with the catchiest hooks and best lyrics of last year. Fading from Summer to Fall, it followed and defined the progression perfectly, and when they said "I wish I had a pizza and a bottle of wine", I was right there with them.

3. Animal Collective Merriweather Post Pavilion

It almost feels like a cliche at this point to say this album was one of the best. The truth remains, it really was. I've never heard psychedelia so tight and fast and solid in my life. I don't feel I need to say much more about this album, because everyone has said already, starting from the moment it emerged at the beginning of last year.

2. Dirty Projector Bitte Orca

Genres were established left and right last year, but what happens when someone takes all the ones that exist and manipulates them to their liking? You get Dirty Projectors. Nothing made more sense with such an orchestral perfection than Bitte Orca. I had way too much fun with this one, and genuinely surprised me when I played this album and stared at my laptop like it was broken when I went "Wait, this is actually coming out of my speakers?" Captain Fantastic.

The Best Album of 2009

1. The XX XX

Sexy, Sad, Loving, Emotional, Soothing-

This is a disputable contention with a lot of people, but nothing made me more satisfied than this ode to adolescent love and lust. Thematic of my year? No, not really, but then again nothing really was this year. Nostalgic? Very much so. When a bunch of twentysomethings from the UK can whisper to each other like the time you lost your virginity, you've got something good in your hands. Jim Derogotis said something along the lines of this album sounding like the kind of emotional and sleepy pillowtalk that goes on at 2:00 am. I couldn't agree more. It makes you want to cry, it makes you want to love, it makes you want that everything right there covered in the sheets and talking with their eyes closed. When the whole world around you makes a billion songs a year about love, it's so refreshing to hear one that stands above the rest.

2009, everyone. Enjoy your day.

Vinyl Recommendation

2010-01-18T17:42:00.000-08:00

2010-01-08T07:52:00.000-08:00

I had a feeling this would since I can't afford cable this year.

The decade list (finally)

2010-01-01T22:52:00.000-08:00

There was a serious lost of adolescence that took place last night. Everyone celebrated with an extreme enthusiasm but my bottle of champagne and I merely stared at the screen like we were watching something offensive or shocking on the television. It was the moment I realized that no longer was my lack of spontaneity and discipline something amusing or funny. It felt like a punch to the chest.

It took my breath away to realize that everything I accepted as the status quo, my immaturity, my passive observation to everything around me, everything, is no longer going to my life. It was, in fact, gone.

I spent a ridiculous amount of time meticulously cultivating this list. But it was my last hurrah to a bygone era. While confusion will never leave my body, nostalgia would be the minimized cognitive file for years 2000-2009, and this is that proof.

This list is in not chronological to release dates, but to my personal chronology. The only limitation was that they had to be indeed released within the decade.

I was asked a year ago by a political science professor what three albums to take with me to a hypothetical desert island. This exercise was rendered useless, as these are all to be airlifted to me on this desert island.

Ladies and gentlemen, every album that mattered (to me) in the last decade:

Middle School 2000-2002ish

-Dashboard Confessional A Mark, A Mission, A Brand, A Scar
-The Strokes Is This It?
-N.E.R.D. Fly Or Die
-Radiohead Hail To The Thief
-Red Hot Chili Peppers By The Way
-Green Day Nimrod
-Kings of Leon Youth & Young Manhood
-Stellastarr Stellastarr
-The White Stripes Elephant & White Blood Cells

-Hot Hot Heat Make Up the Breakdown
-Interpol Turn On The Bright Lights

High School 2003-2007:

Freshman Year:

-Modest Mouse Good News for People Who Love Bad News
-Jet Get Born
-Weezer The Blue Album
-Franz Ferdinand Franz Ferdinand
-The Strokes Room On Fire
-OutKast Speakerboxxx/The Love Below
-The Darkness Permission To Land
-Jack Johnson Brushfire Fairytales
-The Shins Oh, Inverted World
-Elliot Smtih From a Basement on the Hill
-The Flaming Lips Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots
-The White Stripes Get Behind Me, Satan
-The Zutons Who Killed The Zutons?

Sophomore Year:

-Scissor Sisters Scissor Sisters
-Saul Williams Saul Williams
-Kings of Leon Aha Shake Heartbreak
-The Secret Machines Now Here Is Nowhere
-The Shins Chutes Too Narrow
-The Killers Hot Fuss

-Snow Patrol Final Straw
-Rilo Kiley More Adventurous
-Shout Out Louds Howl Howl Gaff Gaff
-Bright Eyes I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning
-The Hives Tyrannosaurus Hives
-Yeah Yeah Yeah's Fever To Tell
-Garden State soundtrack
-The Decemberists Picaresque
-The Postal Service Give Up

Junior Year:

-Matisyahu Live at Stubb's
-Damien Rice O
-Clap Your Hands Say Yeah Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
-Death Cab For Cutie Plans
-My Morning Jacket Z
-Sigur Ros Takk...
-Spoon Gimme Fiction
-The Thrills So Much For The City & Let's Bottle Bohemia
-Wilco A Ghost Is Born
-Wolfmother Wolfmother
-The Go! Team Thunder, Lightning, Strike!
-We Are Scientists With Love & Squalor

-The Black Keys Magic Potion
-The Flaming Lips At War With The Mystics
-Sufjan Stevens Illinoise
-Beirut Gulag Orkestar
-Arctic Monkeys Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I Am Not
-New Pornographers Twin Cinema
-OK Go Oh No
-Jose Gonzalez Veneer

Senior Year:

-Feist Let It Die
-Cold War Kids Robbers & Cowards
-M. Ward Post War
-Silversun Pickups Carnavas
-The Raconteurs Broken Boy Soldiers
-Iron & Wine The Creek Drank The Cradle
-Jenny Lewis & The Watson Twins Rabbit Fur Coat
-Gnarls Barkley St. Elsewhere
-Peter Bjorn & John Writer's Block
-Coldplay Parachutes
-The Unicorns Who Will Cut Our Hair When We Die?
-Arcade Fire Neon Bible
-Islands Return To The Sea
-TV On The Radio Return To Cookie Mountain
-Ted Leo & The Pharmacists Living With The Living
-Band of Horses Everything All The Time

-The Futureheads The Futureheads
-The Thermals The Body The Blood The Machine
-Belle & Sebastian The Life Pursuit

Summer Between Graduation & Freshman Year Of College:

-Apples In Stereo New Magnetic Wonder
-Earl Greyhound Soft Targets
-Lily Allen Alright, Still
-Danger Doom The Mouse and The Mask
-Okkervil River The Stage Names
-Amy Winehouse Back to Black
-Spoon Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
-Oh No! Oh My! Oh No! Oh My!
-Tokyo Police Club A Lesson In Crime
-Rilo Kiley Under The Blacklight
-Wilco Sky Blue Sky
-Shout Out Louds Our Ill Wills
-Grand Ole Party Humanimals

Freshman Year:

-Jens Lekman Night Falls Over Kortedala
-The Kings of Convenience Riot on an Empty Street & Quiet is the New Loud
-Les Savy Fav Let's Stay Friends
-Maplewood Maplewood
-Seu Jorge The Life Aquatic – Studio Sessions
-The National Boxer
-Ghostland Observatory Paparazzi Lightning
-Kanye West Graduation
-Mono You Are There
-Kimya Dawson Remember That I Love You
-Bon Iver For Emma, Forever Ago
-Neko Case Fox Confessor Brings The Flood
-MGMT Oracular Spectacular
-The Moldy Peaches The Moldy Peaches
-Cat Power The Greatest
-Fiery Furnaces Widow City
-Fionn Regan The End of History
-The Rosebuds Make Out
-Juno Soundtrack
-Two Gallants What The Toll Tells
-Rilo Kiley Take Offs & Landings
-Flight of the Conchords Flight of the Conchords
-She & Him Volume 1
-Vampire Weekend Vampire Weekend
-My Morning Jacket Acoustic Citsuoca Live! at the Startime Pavilion EP

Summer In Between:

-Dr. Dog We All Belong
-Devendra Banhart Nina Rojo
-The Hold Steady Boys & Girls In America
-My Morning Jacket Evil Urges
-Albert Hammond Jr. Como Te Llama?
-The Format Dog Problems
-Beck Modern Guilt
-No Age Nouns
-Daft Punk Discovery

Sophomore Year:

-King Khan & The Shrines The Supreme Genius of King Khan & The Shrines
-Jay Reatard Matador Singles ‘08
-The Mountain Goats All Hail West Texas
-The Black Keys Thickfreakness
-Cold War Kids Loyalty to Loyalty
-Animal Collective Merriweather Post Pavilion
-Cadence Weapon Afterparty Babies
-Fleet Foxes Fleet Foxes
-Neko Case Middle Cyclone
-Deer Tick War Elephant
-Starfucker Starfucker
-Sharon Jones & The Dap Kings 100 Days, 100 Nights
-The Pains of Being Pure at Heart The Pains of Being Pure at Heart
-Cake Comfort Eagle

Summer In Between:

-Dinorsaur Jr. Farm
-The Black Keys The Big Come Up

Junior Year (Until Now):

The XX XX
Dirty Projectors Bitte Orca
Neon Indian Psychic Chasms
Girls Album

The Avett Brothers I and Love and You
Jay-Z The Blueprint 3

Phoenix Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix

[Oh yes, it's the] The Foxes! '09

2009-12-29T16:35:00.000-08:00

The honorable mentions:

Kristen Stewart

I know, Twilight. I never saw either nor did I read the novels of abstinence porn Stephanie Meyers gave to the literary diarrhea pile. But I don't know if you saw the movie Adventureland, but god damn. Some of the better acting I've seen in a while (although that had much to do with the realism of post-college adolescence and usage of Violent Femmes' first album). Her vulnerability and connection with Jesse Eisenberg made me wish I was more nerdy and shy, just so I seemed appealing to her. Mmm...

Emma Stone

Speaking of Jesse Eisenberg, I noticed Emma Stone going from the hot girl from Superbad to being sexy woman in Zombieland. Her film history isn't really anything to salute (cough, The House Bunny, cough), but her self awareness put her in the top rung of hotness.

Alia Shawkat

She almost won my misogynistic contest this year. I was re-watching Arrested Development (she plays Maeby Funke, and very well) a few months back and thought to myself "I bet she's really hot now". I was right. First off, she's in that show (and was WAY smarter than most child actors). Second, she's hot. Third, she's a student at Berkeley (studying poli sci, no less)? Triple threat? Correct. I never actually saw Whip It, but seeing her in clips of the movie was enough to convince me.

Melanie Laurent

Shosanna Dreyfus from Inglourious Basterds. Nobody made killing Nazi more sexy. The unfortunate thing: not enough cinema to find in this country of her. That's what you get with the French. I've been swooning over her since August, and she came in a close second.

The Winner:

Christina Hendricks

When I first started coming up with ideas for this year's picks it wasn't even fair. She's just so perfect, if not purely on an aesthetic basis. She's the most intrinsic subtle character on the show who exposes such fantastic guise of confidence in such failure surrounding her. It may even be sexist to think that the hottest woman I've seen this year is portraying an archetype sassy beauty of the 1960s, but I really don't care (the only downside is she's married to this guy). Ladies and gentlemen, Christina Hendricks. Mmmmmm......

In the year 2010: What I really really look forward to in the next year.

2009-12-28T03:11:00.000-08:00

Vampire Weekend - Contra (January 12)

My god, it's like my own personal 21st birthday present. Vampire Weekend has been steadily adding singles for us to nibble on (and, oddly enough, are already getting play in the mainstream?). I don't know what could have been critiqued last time around, so I assume the will end up getting the same treatment of The Strokes' Room On Fire.

Ted Leo & The Pharmacists - The Brutalist Bricks (March 9)

One of the most underrated acts playing, total vegan hippie New York socialites, and I'm totally okay with that as long as the did what they did last time. It's a safe bet because Ted Leo and his gang have rarely fucked up.

She & Him - Volume Two (March 23)

Part of my excitement was the really decided to name their sequel Volume Two. Despite the fact that Zooey Deschanel is wearing herself thin with my patience (we get it already, you're hot) nothing is going to make me happier than seeing springtime emerge and have this to go with it. Seriously, try not to smile and listen to their first album, and then copy paste that to April 2010.

The Magnetic Fields - Realism (January 26)

I seem to remember their last album coming out at about the same time two years ago and falling in love with it while I was typing my English 101 papers. I've seen/read/heard a lot of people tell them they are of a bygone era, but I feel this album is prime for the old folks to show the kids what's what.

The National - (no title yet) (spring 2010)

I'm not really sure how to fuck their strategy up. They've created progressively better albums over time and don't seem to yet peak. Their musical style only facilitates better songwriting, and so I'm going to gamble this and maintain excitement for whatever the put out this year.

Spoon - Transference (January 26)

I have this strange feeling that this and Contra are just going to Arcade Fire everyone and we'll just all give up on the rest of the year (kinda like Animal Collective did this year). I've never heard a bad Spoon album, and this will be no exception.

In general I have very big optimism for a lot of things, and that might have something to do with my choice to not shave my beard mixed with the promise of a new decade. I'm stretching now because I know I'm going to run myself ragged, and with this soundtrack we might be going into the 1970s of music or the 1980s of music. Hopefully the prior, of course.

Mazel Tov!

My final blogs of this decade coming soon. I promise! Especially the big one... that's what she said? Yes. That is what she said.

Merry Christmas.

2009-12-25T01:02:00.000-08:00

"No man is a failure who has friends."

Biggest Disappointments of 2009

2009-12-16T00:40:00.000-08:00

This year's theme seemed to be something regarding reminding me it was no longer 2007. So much of this wasn't expected to be great, but this stuff just didn't even make a certain grade of quality and are unfortunately constituted in a bygone era. This is the 21 gun salute for many fallen soldiers.

Devendra Banhart "What Will We Be" -While it was a solid album (kind of) it didn't hold to a lot of standards and that was sad. The only standard though I'm referring to was a sign of maturity. Banhart has gone four LP's now and seems to make no evolution of refinement or effort, which sadly makes me question his legitimacy as an artist (see Megapuss' album)

Wolfmother "Cosmic Egg" - In 2007 I gained my first employment and found a driven speed of determination that was symbolized within Wolfmother's debut. This reads like Twisted Sister's second album. The majority of band members are gone and most tracks on this album are spun into a mainstream chord form that lacks the innovation previously admired.

Wilco "Wilco (The Album)" - Almost nothing on this shows effort. If they don't watch it, Jeff Tweedy's going to turn Wilco into U2, which is a bold statement but I'm afraid they are becoming a little fucked out, and it shows now... And that's ok. Wilco already has two decades of influence under their belt, it's ok to put down the guitar and call it a day. I won't hold it against them.

Sufjan Stevens "The BQE" - Stevens just lost his mind a little this year. I hated how this tried to be classical and modern. It sounded like new wave jazz and left me a little disoriented. I still have faith, and after reading enough interviews with him, I can tell he knows what he did wrong. I'm just glad he finally told us that he's not really going to the 50 states project. Bring me "Illonois". I can wait for the next mindfreak.

The Thermals "Now We Can See" - The reason their last album "The Body, The Blood, The Machine" was so captain fantastic was because of the passion. It was 2006. Everyone was pissed about where we'd come as a society, and The Thermals were fucking angry. So how do you show passion in a moment of complacency? Well, apparently you can't. This sounded a little too homogenized and the result made me feel a little dissatisfied.

King Khan & BBQ Show "Inivisble Girl" - As you know, I claimed Khan's "Supreme Genius of King Khan & The Shrines" was the best of 2008 (negating MGMT & Bon Iver). It was so god damned good and the BBQ Show showed up. The ironic thing is BBQ Show (depicted on the cover as the octopus) would be great as a solo (and wrote the album's best song "I'll Be Loving You), much like King Khan, but together they seem like an early Jay Reatard EP.

Worst moment: "Tastebuds" Lyrics

Flight of the Conchords "I Told You I Was Freaky" - I was very understanding as to why this album was neither interesting nor funny. FOTC were done after their first season, and I think we all knew that. But with this I felt they could have at least tried on their second LP. It came off as shallow and I definitely felt some sort of hostility towards Sub Pop for their pressure on another accompanying album to the second and final season of their show (although the episode "Prime Minister" might be the funniest thing I've ever seen.)

New Hat

2009-12-15T23:59:00.001-08:00

I've decided to embark on a pretentious endeavor. I'll now post records I've bought, and by doing so I'm recommending them to you as well. It's amazing I scored anything Elton John for 50 cents

(unedited but I'll do that tomorrow, maybe)

2009-12-15T22:08:00.000-08:00

Wednesday, November 25, 2009 2:00 AM

I had spent the previous day covering myself in layers, missing class and using too much Vick's Sinus Spray. I had to work at 11pm until 2am. I wanted to go home, desperately. I knew that if I waited to get some semi-decent sleep, I would be stuck in a gridlock for the holiday for 6 hours.

Just for the sake of not being sick in Bellingham, I was sure that if I left this town I would be healthy again.

So after limited sleep cycles and a congested head, I finish work. I feel slightly of death, but I can do this. I WILL do this.

So a shower, a diet coke, a hot dog sandwich for nourishment, all my vitamins, another hit of my sinus spray, and a fresh travel mug of coffee. This is how legends are made. I make it out the door by 3:00 and on the freeway by 3:05am.

This first hour is difficult. I thought it would be appropriate to listen to Animal Collective's new EP. Mistake. Instead of feeling a sensation of intensity like I would listening to Dark Side of The Moon, it turns into sleepy music. God Dammit, Animal Collective, you're suppose to excite me, not Interpol me. Well shit. I'm at the northern end of Everett.

The Second Hour:

I-5 is an immensely long stretch of highway if you don't deviate from it other than to find a rest stop. I begin to panic slightly and start (attempting) to drink my coffee in a moderate non-chugging fashion. I was somewhat successful as I recognize the Northgate Mall in Seattle. Fuck, I hate Seattle. But this is not a time to think of what's wrong with this city. Time for podcasts. We must all have podcast! We must all have podcasts forthwith! We must all think, and we must all have podcasts, and think each and every one of us to the very best his ability!

Adam Carolla. he can save me with his witty guests and commentary about everyday life.

Seth Green and Adam Carolla are discussing evolutionary theories on artificial intelligence and how we demand everything around us to make our next move for us (such as predictive texting on cellphones), and that is hypothesized to take us over eventually. This is going to help me. The coffee has completely been depleted. I am scared because the coffee has not begun to kick in yet it is all gone? "Have I become immune to a single cup of coffee?" I think to myself. "Perhaps this won't do it for me.

The fantastic thing about driving through Seattle at 4:30 AM is there is [almost] no traffic and the express way is mine. I feel like a king fucking my way through miles of outstretched pavement placed underneath onramps and offramps. As this sensation is exciting me in a questionably sexual way I realized that my eyes have opened further in an unnatural way, my eyes are slightly shaky. I imagined this is what cocaine would do to the body, and I realize; the coffee is now working. The Rolling Stones' "Sympathy For The Devil"

I smell the Tacoma waiting for me down the bend. How close am I? I want it so bad. Earl Greyhound's "Soft Targets" is so loud the only thing acknowledgeable within my hearing is the cough drop I'm slowly crunching between screaming lyrics. It's somewhere between 5:00-5:45 AM and this coffee I'm suspicious of perhaps did have something else in it because I feel like Freshman Year 14 hours before a midterm. The intensity is going crazy. I listen to everything of intensity, Wolfmother, Fleet Foxes, Queens of the Stone Age. The podcasts are no longer a necessity.

It's towards the later end of the fourth hour of the day. I at this point have lost all concept of reality and sleep deprivation has been conquered and tied up in the back of my car. I have been up for more than 20 hours. I realize that since first consciousness I have been sick in bed, sweating in bed trying to flush my system, jerking myself out of bed and going straight to work (until 2:00 AM). We cannot tarry here. Haste! Tacoma I've always found to be the apex of mediocrity but this morning is special. While it is pitch black the fog has arrived in full force. While construction is taking place the red lights are so bright that the fog has turned caution red which has consumed me up to about 10 feet from my peripheral vision. Nothing can stop this far and I doubt it will.

The red fog chases me all the way to Olympia, and yet nothing seems to be changing. Tumwater. For those of you who don't know about Tumwater, it is a fantastic place to stop into but I would imagine there's a higher suicide rate in that town than all of Norway during Winter Solstice. There is a truck stop in Tumwater that has been nurtured into a miniature college student Hajj for me. Every time I drive home I stop there to pee and buy a refreshing something or another. At this point in the evening I resemble Kramer from Seinfeld; hair disheveled, shirt half-tucked, glasses fogged from natural facial excretions of unrelenting exhaustion. I take care of my personal business and stare at the cornucopia of absolutely disgusting and delicious greasebombs to ingest before I hit the bricks again.

Usually I instantaneously run to the corndogs or the Subway booth but nothing seems to grab me. A woman who works the early morning shift approaches my disoriented presence. She is at least 50 looking like a sweet hick lady with an attitude, a woman I would imagine growing old with had I been that age. She says to me "anything catching your fancy?" to which I turn and smile "No, I'm here trying to find what it is I'm looking for." She replies "What is that exactly?" "I'm not quite sure." I say. She tilts her head slightly and says to me "I think we're all looking for that. If you do find what it is your looking for you know where I am sweety." as she pats my shoulder and walks back to the counter.

"Coffee, fuck it." I say under my breath. A little known fact about the Pilot truck stop franchise carries coffee brewed from Costa Rican coffee beans, which mildly excites me, but I know is not what I'm looking for. I go the counter and for fear of commonality avoid the lady involved in my metaphor at the counter and go to the other woman. As my $2.00 drip with room is being "rung up" I make eye contact with the lady. She sees my coffee and I shrug my shoulders as if to say "This will have to do for now." I walk outside and notice the large line of semi trucks turning in. I tend to forget that different cultures in American society exist at different times of day. I reexamine my biological status. Everything feels greasy and dirty, although I do have coffee, and while my buzz is still very prevalent I am no longer tweaked. I am normal and dirty and am okay. Tumwater 6:15. My time so far is impeccable.

At this point I feel no drive for anything but the road. Normalcy, I think overall, was what I was looking for. Although my concept of time is no longer existent I still feel a need for the status quo, whatever that may be. Rilo Kiley "More Adventurous". Life begins to ponder itself into a montage while I hit mid-Chehalis. I pass the Stihl Chainsaw store that I remember passing several years ago after an unfortunate Christmas outing hating myself and watching the blinking Christmas lights rev around the fiberglass cutout of the chainsaw on the side of the building. I remember the first time I drove north to Bellingham at 17 so assured that it would be my place, now realizing that I wasn't looking for cool people, but I was looking for more people like me. I remember housesitting for a family and having to pull their Yellow Labs out of a pile of barbed wire fencing that they got tangled into. So much riles through when you think about the existence of an album in your life and how many places you can pinpoint where you were at while that album was playing.

This lasts for a while and I grow weary of duetting my deep voice to Jenny Lewis' soft one. I find this is time for something new. Something that has been involved in me but not in a heavy way. Dirty Projectors' "Bitte Orca". I am not passing into Longview, and I am close. The sun is just beginning to peak over the mountains, but the fog and darkness are still suppressing it heavily. "Cannibal Resource" is banging hard as if to beat away the darkness and fog. My speed of my vehilce seems to have steadied to cruise, I feel something heavy hit my chest. I am arriving in Kelso. "Temecula Sunrise" is next, and again the music is pushing the darkness away, yet the fog is still strong. Soon Woodland and La Center, and I am about 10 minutes away from exiting the freeway for good. This is truly either the work of god or one of 2009's best indie albums.

The darkness is no more. Music has vanquished darkness and has signed a peace treaty with fog. This fog, like it did in Tacoma, has illuminated the red-orange morning sky and I am happier than I've been in five years. I feel the touch of something holy.

Final tracks Thin Lizzy's "The Boys Are Back In Town" and Starfucker's cover of "Girls Just Want To Have Fun". Appropriate and I am screaming that shit from the offramp to Battle Ground. The light is becoming more prevalent as I am entering the main intersection of which I was raised.

I am at the driveway and it is 7:25 AM. I haven't been up this early in 6 months, and only because I stayed awake to get to this point. I hide my pack of cigarettes in my backpack, which I grab with me and head to the door where my mother is greeting me in her bathrobe (she's getting ready for work). I eat a satsuma orange and discuss in an abridged form what you've just read.

The coffee remains in my car cold, full, and completely untouched.

For December

2009-11-27T01:56:00.000-08:00

Coming Soon.

The most fulfilling meditative moment of 2009

The decade list

The year list (albums and summary)

Nowak's Favorites List (random random shit, probably a lot of youtube videos)

Biggest Disappointments 2009

Perhaps a movie list

The hotties of 2009 (besides my girlfriend)

It's Listcember! Ho Ho Ho.

Thanksgiving

2009-11-26T00:52:00.001-08:00

On this very special (not much more special) Thanksgiving I would like to state what I am thankful for.

The therapeutic drive home I had at 3 in the morning

Drinking whiskey all night, giving grown men relationship advice, and watching a documentary on Johnny Cash and what he considered to be the real America. It's the only America that exists.

The small dog that is currently underneath the covers of my bed whom is keeping my feet warm.

The friends who I have who go outside in the middle of the night and smoke a cigarette with me.

My mom.

My dad.

My sister, and... her boyfriend.

the people who will celebrate thanskgiving with me despite the fact they are not technically my family, but are now considered so.

My girlfriend whom I suspect is drunk with her family in Spokane right now.

Asian children who are wearing slightly racist hats and dancing to the "Chicken Dance"

and booze.

For all acquaintance be forgot...

Tube-Tuesday

2009-11-24T12:04:00.001-08:00

Note: As I've called in sick today, I've been left to the confines of eating chicken soup out of a coffee cup, listening to jazz, watching Californication, and looking up rediculous shit on the youtube knockoffs.

Enjoy my sickness with me, won't you?

First Up: The Avett Brothers new music video (kinda). I can't seem to figure out whether or not I like this album, but the fact that Rick Rubin produced the entire thing helps.

The Avett Brothers - Slight Figure Of Speech - watch more funny videos

Second Up: Jimmy Fallon, whose late night show is getting progressively funnier btw, does a DEAD ON impersonation of Neil Young performing the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song.

more to come.

2009-11-15T21:47:00.000-08:00

My girlfriend is the only person that I know of who can walk into a Cabela's outlet store and walk out having an existential crisis.

Everybody displaces something, but only the most intelligent can throw a bag into hot water and come out with three cheese lasagna.

Halloween, the wrong way.

2009-11-08T14:45:00.000-08:00

The exploits of October 31, 2009 were not of pursuits I have taken forth in since my realization of alcohol, candy, or costumes. Sobriety specifically. Many would find this factor not even a factor. It's easy to say that many people do NOT partake in the debauchery I would argue is my status quo. But it did make me realize what I looked like at one point, at least at a younger age.

I gathered the nickname "the italian father" at one point when I was 18 (when intoxicated I apparently use to kiss everybody on the head and praise their existence in society, still do actually).

This Halloween was different. I worked. From 10:30 PM-3:00 AM. As of recently I've become a security guard for an anonymous organization. Said organization told me I was to work this Halloween. Furthermore, said organization told me to patrol late-night shuttles that moved drunk students from point A to point B. This meant sitting for 5 hours. On a bus. With 60 kids or more at a time. Here we go.

We start off at 10:30 at the main depot. The three bus drivers shake hands with myself and my two colleagues, each of us to "patrol" an assigned bus.

I meet my guy, we'll call him Larry. Larry is a very nice man. Very experienced. Actually, if I could rank all bus drivers judged by their bus driving credentials, he would be on the fucking top. And Larry TOLD me every last detail on how to be a late night bus driver. If you told me today to drive bus all day today, I would be on my game, because their wasn't a single detail left out.

The most important aspect of bus driving Larry taught me was how to deal with manipulative students. In fact, it made me very pessimistic of youth because every stop we hit, we had AT LEAST a dozen kids trying to pull a fast one on Larry. And Larry would have none of that shit.

...

The best part would be when Larry would be talking to me and mid sentence open the door for students and turn in to Larry the Bus Nazi.

ex:
Larry: Yeah when I use to drive bus in Seattle we could make over $80,000 in overtime if you - wait hold on a second *door opens* Is she drunk?
Student: No
Larry: Well then why is she puking?
Larry: Really, she's not drunk?
Student: ...
Larry: Ok let me see you bus pass
Student: I don't have mine... it got stolen.
Larry: You know you're the thousandth kid to tell me he got his bus pass stolen tonight, and I bet you're the first honest one?!
Student: Listen it..
Larry: GET OFF MY BUSS! WHEN I GET BACK TO THE STOP AGAIN YOU BETTER BE WALKING BECAUSE YOU'RE OFF THE BUS FOR GOOD TONIGHT!
Student: F**k you f****t! F****n' f****t!

Keep in mind this student is a short kid that can't be any older than a freshman and wearing a sad excuse for a surfer costume

It is at this point Larry has slammed the door on him and left about a dozen other kids out because of this one guy and his drunk friend. Kids starts slapping the windows from the outside to let them in as Larry tears out of the bus stop like a bat out of hell while kids briefly chase the bus throwing rocks.

Now. The best part of this, Larry goes immediately back to our conversation WITHOUT MISSING A BEAT about working overtime in Seattle.

I have almost crapped my pants because this guy almost started a public transportation coup on the drunkest night on campus and Larry isn't even phased. This guy IS hardcore.

...

At one point we are driving (and this bus is PACKED. He had to count the number of students on the bus per trip, and he said our highest capacity at that time was 82 on this bus.) we're driving with so many people that I can neither stand nor sit. I had to grab onto the top bar and hang off of it at an angle in which to accommodate these kids. They ALL get off at this one point and to my joy one of the more sober ones goes "Oh hey, some girl just puked"

"What? Where? When?" I reply.

"Right there" she says and points.

I'll spare you the more horrible details, but what I saw can only be described in two ways; Chunky. World record.

Well at this point the bus driver informs me that when someone pukes on said bus, said bus has to go out of commission. So they decide where I am to go is the OTHER shuttle with one of my coworkers.

This of course is after Larry and the head... bus driver... gets into one of those heated discourses that are used in amazingly subtle rhetoric.

Head Honcho: We need to close this bus.
Larry: Ok
Head Honcho: And we need to hose this bus down before it goes back into commission.
Larry: Ok
Head Honcho: ...
Larry: I'm not going to do it.
Head Honcho: ... *sigh*

I'm on the other shuttle for about 30 minutes, and that bus was cake. My colleague and I sit in the back and bullshit with drunk kids, half an hour goes by, and then that bus driver tells me that my bus is back in commission and he's going to drop me off downtown.

Ok... drop me off downtown wearing essentially a glorified windbreaker with the words "Public Safety" in yellow. Keep in mind this is the same spot where the majority of kids out there have probably gotten written up or ticketed or arrested because of the doings of who I am currently affiliated with. Fantastic. Apparently my new co-workers don't have much discretion for stabbings by the downtown bus stop. As the next slue of drunken bargoers heads toward me, I'm looking with one eye and have my hand on my mag-lite just in case, and like a big green wheeled angel, Larry's back to pick me up. He swoops in and I ride off the rest of the night yelling at frosh and trying to keep my eyes open.

It was the best halloween ever.

More Poetry.

2009-11-08T14:34:00.000-08:00

A way out west there was a fella,
fella I want to tell you about, fella
by the name of Jeff Lebowski. At
least, that was the handle his lovin'
parents gave him, but he never had
much use for it himself. This
Lebowski, he called himself the Dude.
Now, Dude, that's a name no one would
self-apply where I come from. But
then, there was a lot about the Dude
that didn't make a whole lot of sense
to me. And a lot about where he
lived, like- wise. But then again,
maybe that's why I found the place
s'durned innarestin'.

They call Los Angeles the City of
Angels. I didn't find it to be that
exactly, but I'll allow as there are
some nice folks there. 'Course, I
can't say I seen London, and I never
been to France, and I ain't never
een no queen in her damn undies as
the fella says. But I'll tell you
what, after seeing Los Angeles and
thisahere story I'm about to unfold--
wal, I guess I seen somethin' ever'
bit as stupefyin' as ya'd see in any
a those other places, and in English
too, so I can die with a smile on my
face without feelin' like the good
Lord gypped me.

Now this story I'm about to unfold
took place back in the early nineties--
just about the time of our conflict
with Sad'm and the Eye-rackies. I
only mention it 'cause some- times
there's a man--I won't say a hee-ro,
'cause what's a hee-ro?--but sometimes
there's a man.

And I'm talkin' about the Dude here--
sometimes there's a man who, wal,
he's the man for his time'n place,
he fits right in there--and that's
the Dude, in Los Angeles.

2009-11-01T21:17:00.001-08:00

marriedtothesea.com

A Denim Company Stole One Of My Favorite Poems

2009-10-31T03:20:00.000-07:00

Pioneers! O Pioneers! -Walt Whitman

COME my tan-faced children,
Follow well in order, get your weapons ready,
Have you your pistols? have you your sharp-edged axes?
Pioneers! O pioneers!

For we cannot tarry here,
We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger,
We the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

O you youths, Western youths,
So impatient, full of action, full of manly pride and friendship,
Plain I see you Western youths, see you tramping with the foremost,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Have the elder races halted?
Do they droop and end their lesson, wearied over there beyond the seas?
We take up the task eternal, and the burden and the lesson,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

All the past we leave behind,
We debouch upon a newer mightier world, varied world,
Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

We detachments steady throwing,
Down the edges, through the passes, up the mountains steep,
Conquering, holding, daring, venturing as we go the unknown ways,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

We primeval forests felling,
We the rivers stemming, vexing we and piercing deep the mines within,
We the surface broad surveying, we the virgin soil upheaving,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Colorado men are we,
From the peaks gigantic, from the great sierras and the high plateaus,
From the mine and from the gully, from the hunting trail we come,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

From Nebraska, from Arkansas,
Central inland race are we, from Missouri, with the continental blood intervein'd,
All the hands of comrades clasping, all the Southern, all the Northern,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

O resistless restless race!
O beloved race in all! O my breast aches with tender love for all!
O I mourn and yet exult, I am rapt with love for all,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Raise the mighty mother mistress,
Waving high the delicate mistress, over all the starry mistress,
(bend your heads all,)
Raise the fang'd and warlike mistress, stern, impassive, weapon'd mistress,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

See my children, resolute children,
By those swarms upon our rear we must never yield or falter,
Ages back in ghostly millions frowning there behind us urging,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

On and on the compact ranks,
With accessions ever waiting, with the places of the dead quickly fill'd,
Through the battle, through defeat, moving yet and never stopping,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

O to die advancing on!
Are there some of us to droop and die? has the hour come?
Then upon the march we fittest die, soon and sure the gap is fill'd.
Pioneers! O pioneers!

All the pulses of the world,
Falling in they beat for us, with the Western movement beat,
Holding single or together, steady moving to the front, all for us,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Life's involv'd and varied pageants,
All the forms and shows, all the workmen at their work,
All the seamen and the landsmen, all the masters with their slaves,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

All the hapless silent lovers,
All the prisoners in the prisons, all the righteous and the wicked,
All the joyous, all the sorrowing, all the living, all the dying,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

I too with my soul and body,
We, a curious trio, picking, wandering on our way,
Through these shores amid the shadows, with the apparitions pressing,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Lo, the darting bowling orb!
Lo, the brother orbs around, all the clustering suns and planets,
All the dazzling days, all the mystic nights with dreams,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

These are of us, they are with us,
All for primal needed work, while the followers there in embryo wait behind,
We to-day's procession heading, we the route for travel clearing,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

O you daughters of the West!
O you young and elder daughters! O you mothers and you wives!
Never must you be divided, in our ranks you move united,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Minstrels latent on the prairies!
(Shrouded bards of other lands, you may rest, you have done your work,)
Soon I hear you coming warbling, soon you rise and tramp amid us,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Not for delectations sweet,
Not the cushion and the slipper, not the peaceful and the studious,
Not the riches safe and palling, not for us the tame enjoyment,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Do the feasters gluttonous feast?
Do the corpulent sleepers sleep? have they lock'd and bolted doors?
Still be ours the diet hard, and the blanket on the ground,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Has the night descended?
Was the road of late so toilsome? did we stop discouraged nodding on our way?
Yet a passing hour I yield you in your tracks to pause oblivious,
Pioneers! O pioneers!

Till with sound of trumpet,
Far, far off the daybreak call-hark! how loud and clear I hear it wind,
Swift! to the head of the army!-swift! spring to your places,
Pioneers! O pioneers!