Bleeding Fiction

Rolling Stone's cover story this month was about the 500 Greatest Albums of all time. I went down the list and discovered that I own a mere 55 of the 500. Now, I'm no Aaron Wallen or Dan Proctor or John Zigler here, but my music collection is fairly sizable and varied. Apparently, though, I'm just not cutting the mustard.

And that has me feeling kind of down. I mean, there's tons of albums on this list I wouldn't own if you paid me (Like #17, Nirvana's "Nevermind") and I obviously don't agree with the list 100%, but even still you'd think I'd have something more than 55. I'm missing so much, and stuff I know is good, stuff I know I'll like. The Clash, The Velvet Underground, a bunch of stuff from the Stones and Van Morrison and Jimi Hendrix and Elvis Costello...

I've been slacking. I need to get to work and get back to some serious, hard-core music buying. Time for a trip to Best Buy, maybe...

This link will let you listen to an mp3 of some Japanese guys singing a medley of Queen songs in their native tongue. I have an overwhelming love of crazy shit like this.

Spring is nearly here, with Summer not far behind and that means, among other things, touring season for a wide variety of excellent musical acts. I've developed a pretty strange and eclectic taste in music from a wide variety of areas over the years. I love opening acts, for some reason, and almost always end up seeing them again in other venues. I listen to bands that friends and random authors whose books I read listen to. I stumble across bands on the street or have interest in an album bubble up into my brain from some sort of collective musical unconscious.

Happily not all of the bands I like play places like the Garden. That said, here's a brief and chronological list of current shows I plan to or would like to go and see over the next few months. If you're interested in seeing any of these with me (Proctor, this means you!) post something here, send me an email or pick up the phone and we can work it out.

Obviously I'll expand the list as time passes. If anyone knows of a good show coming up, let me know.

Also, two of Dar Williams' shows on here are particularly worth noting. The first is on 7/11, which is my birthday. How damn cool is that? I get to see a Dar show on my birthday! The second is 9/18, which is Rob's wedding. All I can say is that it's a damn good thing Rob's planning for a morning wedding...

A little while back I inaugerated the opening of the spring and summer concert season with a calender of sorts. Unfortunately I missed the first three concerts on the calender due to scheduling problems, but more are always on the way. I present here the most recent update:

As I said last time, anyone who's interested is more than welcome to come to any show. Just let me know and I'll even take care of buying the tickets. Nothing in the world quite like the live music, folks. Enjoy it!

You don't really realize it when you listen to one of their albums, but on stage you can clearly see that Rainer Maria is schizophrenic. Each member of the band is strangely disassociated from each of the rest. Kyle, the guitarist, spends the show having a musical siezure. He's a Tazmanian Devil of sound, a rampaging cloud of flailing hair, arms, legs and guitar necks. He manages to contain himself enough to come in on time for his part on the backing vocals, but he's not always near the microphone when he does. It's a good thing he's got such a strong voice. Caithlin, the vocalist and bassist, by contrast, is possessed of a child's wide-eyed enthusiasm ground down to laser-like focus and precision. But she's a child more in the Dennis the Menace vein than the Shirley Temple. She sings with a passion for music that borders on the lethal. Bill, the drummer, is a silent, smiling, mischevious imp. The sort of imp who would think it was funny to toss hand grenades into the audience. The song starts and he's replaced, mystically, by a dopelganger who is a drumming machine. The song ends and the imp returns, silent, smiling, mischevious and lethal.

Watching Rainer Maria play is dangerous. Forget your ears; their music explodes off the stage and hits you in your heart with a three-inch punch. The air is so thick with noise that breathing becomes an effort. Your teeth rattle in your head until you think they'll fall out. You lose your voice just standing there, before you even try to scream. The band plays well and with passion. They are an absolutely great act to see. I can't wait to do it again.

I went back to the Bowery Ballroom last night, my second time in three days, to see Erin McKeown. She came onto the stage in darkness, a shadow of a different quality than the rest. An expectant hush fell over the crowd, a wave of noise that started at the stage and rippled back, leaving silence in its wake. The stage lights came up, pink and red, and made Erin look strangely blue. The crowd exploded into applause. We grooved as she started up the first song and we didn't stop grooving until the concert was over.

Erin's a tiny girl, a Little Orphan Annie (spunk included) with pig-tails instead of curls, she sings like a smoky-voiced Hollywood starlet from the forties and she plays, dear God she plays, like she's the first person to discover that a guitar has strings. It would not be inappropriate for me to make a comparisson to Chuck Berry. Erin's totally unprepossessed, totally classy, turning out a smile and a genuine "thank you" to every round of applause. She just wants you to have fun, to play some tunes and for everyone, herself included, to bop along. It works.

I usually leave a concert and try to avoid listening to any music from the act I've seen for a day or so. After seeing a live show, how can an album compare? Erin's music is infectious, though. I left the Bowery and I was singing her songs, I got into my car and I put a CD in. Hearing Erin just makes me want to hear Erin more. Whoever you are, you missed out by not being at this show and you miss out if you don't listen to Erin. If you want to give her a try, you can listen to a few of her songs on her website in the grand radio section. Enjoy!

I won't say that I'm over Bishop Allen. The problems in their concert last night were too small for that. But there were problems. First, the sound mixing was sub-par; Bishop Allen is a vocals-intensive band and shouldn't have to strain to get their voices to carry over instruments hitting the red-lines. Second, they forgot some of their lyrics; forgivable, but when the band's only got one twelve-song album and has been on tour all winter, I expect better. They could've avoided this by working out a set list before-hand instead of figuring out what they were going to play as the drummer beat his sticks to start the song. Call that problem the third. Fourth, they were out of tune. I admire the intensity of an act that wants to go from one song to the next without stopping, but if their tuning suffers for it, they need to either get another guitar or slow down. Fifth was the maniac who rushed the stage during the last two songs. When the stage is only raised six inches off of the floor, that's going to cause trouble. He managed to take down one of the guitarists (who kept playing and singing, anyway), though he did help him up again.

Bishop Allen's real problem, though, was the loss of Bonnie Karin, who did vocals on their album and last tour. According to the website, Bonnie's been gone for a while. She was at the show, so I asked her about what happened. She said "I've got a great job. I'm in love and I've got a great job." Wonderful news for Bonnie, but the band suffers without her. The one remaining woman in the group, Christian Owens, is a good basist but can't sing strongly enough to hold her own with Christian Rudder and Justin Rice, the two male vocalists (Yes, the band has a girl Christian and a guy Christian).

Even with the above problems the group kept to its signature sound. They've captured some of the Golden Moments in rock - British Invasion's switch from riffing off of early American rock to making something new (it was in 1965) and the moment when someone realized you can do more with a synthesizer than make Disco (it was Devo, in 1977) - and made them their own. They've got the visual style down perfectly, in sweaters or jackets and ties (Justin looks like a cross between Roger Daltry and Doctor Who), too.

Bishop Allen's second album comes out this summer. If the production values on their first album, Charm School, are any indication they'll have solved a lot of the problems I had with their act last night and they'll have won me back. As it stands now, I still love 'em but I don't know that I want to go and see them play at The Tank again.

In other news, the opening acts were nothing special. The first was The Big Digits. Dan Proctor calls them "a cross between Judas Priest and the Beastie Boys," which is another way of saying "homoerotic white rap, handlebar mustache included." They were fun for the kitsch value. The second was The Five O'Clock Heroes. Dan gets it right when he says that "they're like '867-5309' turned into an entire band" (In other words: a one trick pony with a better-than-average trick). I wonder if their lead singer's really British or if he's only faking the accent to sound cool. There was supposed to be a third act, a guy named Shane Bartell, but unless he didn't play until after Bishop Allen (who ended at half-past midnight) and slipped from the minds of the other acts on stage, he just didn't go on. It's a pity; I like the samples he has up on his website.

Blog: Slightly wonked due to a hacker. Bastard. Host is cool, providing on-site visits and discussions of poetry. Also, she fixed the blog. Mostly. Last update along these lines lost to the digital ether. Good riddance, I say.

Vitaly: Got married recently. Yay! Nice wedding, very traditional, right down to the break-dancing-Brad-Pitt-look-alike rabbi.

Kiki: Now engaged. About damn time. She and Raphael have only been dating for eight and a half years.

Erin McKeown: Free show at South Street Seaport past Thursday. Excellent music, as always. Open air = poor acoustics but great breeze. Too much sitting, not enough dancing.

Visitations: Something Positive went pro; creator-dude Randy got mad donations and quit his job to do the comic. That's cool. Also, Bekah started a livejournal. Its bilingualness astounds me. Go be astounded too.

Lena: What I said I'd write: Everything she says about why she and I should not be together makes perfect sense. But my life bleeds fiction and makes no sense, so there. Plus, I love fairy tales and happily-ever-afters.

Mother: In hospital for non-serious, non-diabetes problems. Yeesh.

Borges: My current reading. Witty and self-deprecating. Major images are mirrors, labyrinths and knife-fights. Very cool.

Saved: A movie. Pokes fun at very religious types. Funny as hell. Go see it. I want to see it again. And own it on DVD.

Work: Increasingly less busy. Or decreasingly busy. Whichever. Yay.

School: Registration papers to arrive... soon?

Writing: It's June. Leave me the fuck alone.

Back to a regular schedule presently.

I went out last night to downtown Seattle with the Delightful Jeni Garber to see the Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra, based out of Brooklyn. One of Jeni's key features is that she loves music, probably more than I do. Truly, a frightful prospect. Like me, however, Jeni's interested in a wide and eclectic style of music. Hence the Afrobeat.

The Antibalas folks are a skilled and cohesive unit. Eleven men took the stage, armed with the tools of art. We're talking three guitars and a bass on one side, along with an organist and conga player. We're talking two saxophones, alto and baritone, a trumpet and a trombone. We're talking drums. We're talking here of a full on ensemble of musical talent.

They were good. They were (dare I say it?) dancable. Not much for singing along to (there were minimal vocals), but as far as it goes they're great music to move to or to put on in the background and steadily ignore. If you've been paying even marginal attention to my musical proclivities you'll have already come to the conclusion that I bought one of their albums. In this, you would be correct. I'm enjoying it immensely. Without my own cd collection, I've been very music deprived lately. So, thank God for the Delightful Jeni Garber and the Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra.

I drove out to the Crocodile Cafe in downtown Seattle tonight to see the wonderful Erin McKeown play a show. I went alone, which should demonstrate how much I love to see Erin play, because I absolutely hate to go to places like that alone. It's part of that whole thing where I don't so much always like talking to people I don't know.

I got a little lost on my way to the show. The Crocodile Cafe's website is entirely to blame. Usually, when directions read "From I-5 South" they mean "if you are driving South on I-5." In this case, that's not so much the truth. What they really meant was "if you are driving on I-5 and are South of the city" as in "if you are driving on I-5 North." This strikes me as remarkably stupid. I drove out of the city of Seattle altogether. Not far, mind, but far enough. I turned around and came back.

Seattle drivers, by the way, are pretty rotten. They're not like Connecticut drivers, who are lethal. Technically, these folks drive fine. It's just that they drive slow. And I'm not speaking as a typically speedy New Jersey driver when I say this. I mean that the speed limit is 60 and all of the people aroung me were driving 55. But I digress.

Due to the getting lost I arrived to the show about fifteen minutes late. No big deal, I thought. I've just missed a little bit of the opening act. I can handle that. The thing is, the posters and signs all tell me that Erin is the opening act. Hhm. That doesn't seem right. That means that I've been misinformed. Also that I missed the first third of Erin's act. I've never seen the main band, The Waifs, and the tickets are $23. I barely hesitated.

I watched Erin play. The crowd was into the music, but it was apparent that most them them weren't there to see her. She played a ton of new songs, stuff I hadn't heard before, and it was good. Seven or eight months until her new album, Erin said. Can't wait.

After she played she came out and signed. Took me a bit by surprise with that; I'd seen Erin play five times before tonight and I hadn't seen her sign yet, so I didn't bring one of her albums with me. Naturally, I had to buy another copy of Grand to get her to sign. And a T-shirt. I bought a drink for $7, which was a total rip off.

After a bit, the Waifs came on. How to explain to you what this band was like... You can infer what I thought about them when I say that I left before they'd finished their fourth song, but that wouldn't really capture what they are. They are... well, they are an Australian country-western band.

Yeah, that was pretty much my response.

So, in the final assessment: I spent $30 just to be at the show, I saw the girl I'd gone to see play for a total of about 30 minutes and I didn't enjoy the music of the other folks playing. That means that I spent a dollar a minute on tonight's entertainment.

But you know what? I consider every dollar well-spent. Erin is that fuckin' cool.

But now I have an extra copy of Grand. Anybody want it?

Has anyone else seen the Hi Hi Puffy Ami Yumi show yet? The show based on the Japanese musical duo of similar name? (In Japan they're simply called Puffy.) Am I the only one who thinks it's delightfully psychedelic? Does it remind anyone else of various shorts from the 70's? Is it just me, or are the girls voiced by the same actresses who do Raven and Starfire on Teen Titans?

Is anyone else as impressed as I am that their music sometimes transcends typical JPop to become actually serious rock?

Oh, and am I the only one who thinks that Ami and Yumi are totally cute? When they're not dressed in retro-80's gear, that is?

It's sometimes a danger to have as large a music collection as I do, especially when you combine that with a five-disc CD changer. I bought a Phish album, Billy Breathes, the other day. Today I put it in the CD player along with a few other CDs, ones I'd owned for a while but hadn't listened to recently. Billy Breathes came on, but I thought it was something else. "Damn," said I, "this is really good. Why don't I listen to this more?" It was about fifteen minutes before I realized that I don't listen to it more because I'd never owned it before yesterday.

My drive comes as a result of my new desk. It's remarkable how much energy one suddenly has for getting things done when one can sit upright and spread papers around a flat surface rather than reclining all the time. The weekend was a little busy with finishing a fellowship application, going to Best Buy, getting my internet to work (sadly a temporary state of affairs - I'm back to pirating, for now) and a few other things, but even still I managed to write four fables (so far) and re-read most of Fire and Jade so I can get back to the second draft. I haven't touched that manuscript since around May and I'm happy to report that it's not as bad as I remember it being.

Now, I'm bound by a rule to not frolic like a school girl. I extend that to giggling like a school girl, squealing with delight like a school girl or doing anything else that a school girl may do in her own fashion. If there's anything that could've made me come close, though, it was these first two episodes of the new Ah! My Goddess series. Bless you, Ben, for pointing it out to me. It's expanded from the OVA (more like the manga? Not really from what I remember, but that was years ago.) and comfortingly familiar. Many of the voice actors are even the same. Neat!

Beyond the shadow of a doubt, one of the finest musicians I've ever heard or seen play is Erin McKeown. I'm a fan of a lot of musicians, some of whom are more likely to turn me into a gibbering mass of fandom than Erin is, but there's no one I enjoy seeing play live more. I've mentioned her before. I mention her pretty much every time it's opportune. I've said pretty much every praise I have already, so just check it out here.

(And while you're at it, if you haven't heard her yet, do yourself a favor and check out some of her tunes here.)

I mention Erin today because her most recent newsletter came in my email. It contained the following information:

"NEW ALBUM NEWS: IT's DONE! or at least it's done being recorded, and we're so excited."

Excited? Fucking understatement of the year, that is. WOO HOO!!!

Generally speaking, I wouldn't pay eighty dollars to listen to a man whose speech I can barely understand sing live. Specifically, as in "when the man in question is Bob Dylan," I jump at the chance. I went with The Delightful Jeni Garber and her visiting friend, Rick. So, let's talk nitty-gritty:

Opening: The opening act was some sort of country band. I can't remember their name, but I'm told that they're a bit on the famous side. Whatever the truth of that, the people of Seattle (at least those who fall into the Bob Dylan concert-going subset) loved them. I find the local appeal for country music a little disturbing, truth to tell.

Bob: Dylan himself was ok. Worth seeing, absolutely, but not spectacular. His voice, of course, was garbled and gravelly. But I expected that. What was odd was that he didn't play guitar at all. Just the piano and the harmonica. The band he played with was good, but I didn't come to see the band, you know? It was totally cool that they closed with a Hendrix cover, though: All Along the Watchtower. Tribute to playing in Seattle, I guess.

Also, the older Bob Dylan gets, the more I think he looks like Vincent Price. That's sort of cool:

The Crowd: We had great seats and the folks we saw this show with were an absolute riot. The woman directly in front of me kept taking pictures of the stage with her cameraphone; there's no way she could have gotten anything, given the darkness. The woman two seats to my left spent half the show with her hands over her ears; really, what's the point? The best, though, was the guy at the end of the row ahead of us. He was having a flashback to the brown acid or was an epileptic having a fit or was quite possibly in some sort of ecstatic trance, because he was moving. Not dancing, really. More just spasming back and forth and gesticulating wildly, occassionally surging out of his seat. This one guy alone was worth the price of admission.

It's been about nine years since the album came out, but I'm finally starting to like Blues Traveler's Straight On 'Til Morning. A lot of people didn't like it because it wasn't as pop-y as Four, which was the album before it. I'd always liked Travelers & Thieves better, anyway, so it wasn't any skin off of my nose. I just never thought the album was very good, that's all.

But it's been growing on me in the past week or so.

Go figure.

Claim: The Peter, Paul & Mary tune "Puff, the Magic Dragon" is a coded song about marijuana.

Status: False.

WHAT?!

SWEET HEAVENLY FUCK YES!

"ERIN MCKEOWN and NETTWERK are proud to announce the release of MS MCKEOWN's fourth studio album, WE WILL BECOME LIKE BIRDS. the album will be available in stores in NORTH AMERICA on the 28th of JUNE."

June 28th. How many days away is that? 42. Of course!

Maybe I should take the summer off to follow Erin around on tour...

I finished my paper on time. Which is to say I finished it in enough time to run to campus, print it out at the library and get it into my professor's hands about three minutes before she walked out of her office for the summer. It was 14.5 pages long, which gets rounded up to 15 and means "mission accomplished."

I didn't have time to write a second draft. I pretty much never bother to do that for papers, anyway, but for this one I would've liked to. I figure an ambitious thesis deserves me showing a little ambition in the writing. Plus, it would've made it less painful when I had to re-read it next year for my thesis. Either way, it's good enough for now. I think.

I was interrupted mid-morning (and mid-paper writing) by the arrival of the UPS man, who had one, two, three (mwa ha ha!) packages from Amazon.com for me. It was a nice gift (also known as "how I spent a portion of my freakishly huge income tax refund"), and I made myself wait until I got back from handing in my paper to open it. I sort of didn't have a choice.

I got some books for school research ("Critical Terms for Religious Studies" and "Supermodernism"), some books for writing research ("Pacing the Void" and "Records of the Grand Historian" - oh, yes, The Ogre�, that's right: by Sima Qian) and some books that I just wanted to have (The second volume of "The Deer and the Cauldron" and Teresa's totally awesome "Making Book"). I got some DVDs (Gilmore Girls 3rd season, The Incredibles and Enemy at the Gates).

I also got some CDs (Tori Amos, The Beekeeper; Richard Shindell, Vuelta; Ben Folds, Songs for Silverman; and the Rushmore soundtrack. Rushmore is an awesome movie, with an awesome soundtrack and the girl who shows up towards the end playing Margaret Yang, Sara Tanaka, looks really and truly almost identical to my friend Vanessa, who I have sadly lost touch with.). The CD I did not get, due to my not, in fact, ordering it when I thought I had, was Ani DiFranco's Knuckle Down, which I really, really want. A trip to Best Buy this weekend will fix this oversight, as well as possibly get me a CD from the Pixies or the Shins or the Clash. Or possibly a coffee table.

Now I have to go and write a Fable tonight, to catch up to the fact that I didn't post one at the stroke of midnight (or a reasonable facsimile thereof), and also start reading for that other, seven page paper that I have due on Thursday. That one's much less ambitious (not ambitious at all, actually) and should be much, much easier.

Whenever I sit down to absorb a new project from an author or musician that I really love, I get a little bit scared. I have a moment's hesitation as I worry that it might suck. There are a few artists whose past work is so close to the core of my self that their continued greatness (or at least lack of suckitude) is vitally important to me. It's not like their old work would be somehow invalidated by something new and not so good; it's more like the world would be a lesser place for the lack of its ability to produce consistent wonder.

Erin McKeown released her new album, We Will Become Like Birds, today. It would be a cruel and pointless understatement to say that this has been my most anticipated event for the last two months, minimum. I've got the album on repeat in my stereo right now. The Lady does not disappoint. Birds is a little more sedate, a little more thoughtful than her previous albums, but it's also more even. The 12 songs on the album (not a one of them I didn't instantly like) are nicely balanced against each other and keep the feel and theme of the album going strong throughout. Erin's guitar and voice are as good as they've ever been, her lyrics are clever and playful. The whole thing's just great and, if I had to pick a single word, uplifting.

Erin's, stylistically, a hard girl to pin down, and I think that's intentional. She's not really folk, not really "singer-songwriter," not really indie. I think Erin probably puts it best herself on myspace, when she says "the music that i make is a direct reflection of the music i love, and i love music that lifts you, that makes you feel invincible and incredible for 3 and a half minutes of roaring guitars and choruses- the highest hopes, the deepest faith expressed in the dynamics of emotion and sound." I can't argue with that sentiment, and while this album might not quite get up to "roaring," it certainly hits the rest dead on. Honestly, this album reminds me a little of an all-Erin version of the Garden State soundtrack.

If you want to give a listen to what this album's like, check it out here. Needless to say, I heavily recommend it.

Oh, and this entry's title, a reference to the opening song on the album, is Latin. Translated into English it says "through rough ways, to the stars." In other words: through suffering, to greatness. Yeah.

(and other places)

I've been pretty busy this week, which isn't much surprising. Japanese class continues to kick my ass. As of mid-day on Wednesday I passed the half-way point for the class, which means it's pretty much all downhill from here. I'm getting a C right now and my hope is that I can keep that grade from dropping further. We'll see.

I've also given up on this whole "working in museums" idea I had. I can't get a museum job I'd want without spending another 4 years in school and the museum jobs I can get I really don't want. Plus, I miss the sort of work I was doing at InterSlice all to hell. With that decision behind me, I thought I'd try to switch programs - maybe into the general International Studies Masters or into the Masters in Public Affairs program. At the very least, I figured I could do the International Development and Relief Graduate Certification.

None of that's happening. My odds of getting into those programs aren't bad, but I'd still have to apply. Which I couldn't do until next year. So I'd be finishing out the Japan Studies Masters before moving on to another Masters, anyway. That's just dumb. So, I'm going to just take it a little easy next year and finish out this Masters and see if I can get myself a job that way. It should work.

Yesterday, I went on a four year overdue tour of the Seattle Underground. It was visually cool as hell; century-old brick vaulting and anchoring masonry accessable through a series of innocuous doors in building faces. I was disappointed only in the limited scope of the tour and in the way the underground came about. The underground itself actually covers an area about 25 blocks on a side, running under pretty much the entire downtown section of the city, but the tour itself only covers about one square block, and you file through it in a line. So I lost a lot of the impact of how massive this area could be. Also, the underground was deliberately created by the city as a way of avoiding tidal floods back in the late 19th century. A lot of the mystery and magic of having an underground city (of sorts) is lost when you realize it didn't come around by accident.

I also bought two albums yesterday. The first was The Shins' Chutes Too Narrow and the second was They Might Be Giants' Flood. I haven't listened to Chutes Too Narrow yet; I've been too amused by listening to Istanbul (Not Constantinople) over and over and over again.

I think that about covers it.

I just randomly popped over to Dar Williams' site, only to discover that she has a new album coming out. On September 13th. In other words "not far off at all."

This is a very cool thing, but also surprising - I usually find out about stuff like this way in advance. I mean, I knew that Erin was coming out with a new album this past June as far back as October. Very odd. I feel so out of touch.

I heard a little while back that Dar was coming to Seattle in October (I can't remember who told me - either Brian or my sister), which is cool since I haven't seen her play in a while and not on the Left Coast at all, but I just found out that certain of Dar's tour venues are getting special, higher-priced tickets, the extra costs of which go to benefit some local charitable organization. Seattle's one such venue. Cool.

Oh, right. Also, for the cost of the special price ticket you get "admission to a meet and greet reception with Dar." I'm not hugely sure that I like paying extra money to hang out with someone that I've previously hung out with for free, but what the hell - it's for a good cause, right?

(I doubt she'll recognize me; it's been a few years since I saw her last, and a few years more since that stretch where I saw her like four times in two months, and It'll be totally out of context... But you know, it would still be cool.)

And, of course, now that I'm back Seattle has a series of visits from some Very Special Guests:

September 9(?)-11: Erik, my erstwhile roommate, will cap off his driving tour of the Left Coast here in Seattle. I'm not quite sure when he'll get here and neither is he; Friday or Saturday, most likely. Seattleites! I say unto thee: be around to entertain my out of town friend, for verily he will appreciate your particular brand of madness.

October 3: Erin McKeown, who is tiny but sings with voice enough to topple Jericho, travels as some dude's opening act. All opening acts should be reffered to as "heralds," but that's besides the point. The point is that I'll go see her play anyway, because Erin is worth it alone, and the other guy might be good.

October 4: Neil Gaiman, a man who I don't have as much to say as I ought, will be here that evening to sign his new book. I will be there to have said new book signed. Possibly other books as well.

October 19: Dar Williams, who probably doesn't remember me, is going to hit Seattle a month after her new album does. I haven't seen Dar play in much, much, much too long. I don't always think about it, but when I do it makes me sad. Seeing Dar again will make me happy.

That is all.

And A Game Of Shut The Fuck Up

I kicked out and saw the tremendously awesome Erin McKeown tonight. As always, she pulled off a splendiferous show. Erin's set list ran: White City, Beautiful (I Guess), Cinematic, To The Stars, The Taste of You, Aspera, Life On The Moon, We Are More, Float and Le Petit Mort. That might be a little bit out of order, but not hugely so. Erin put a little bit of a slow reggae or samba take on Taste of You; this girl needs to release a live album but now!

The crowd was a little small, but she was an opening act and the Showbox is pretty sizeable. The folks on the floor, though, were pretty into it. And why not? Erin can pack a huge amount of music, and a grand passion for it, into a very puny frame. Truly, the girl is small. Tiny. That this is true is a source of continuous wonder to me.

After Erin's set I picked up a t-shirt (the brown one - I now have 3 out of 4 colors. This is maybe a little sad) and got Erin to sign my copy of ...Birds. Since this wasn't an Erin show, per se, the girl wasn't swamped with fans, so I had a moment to talk to her, socially. I always feel a little weird about that; what do I have to say to Erin? I mean, I don't know much about her aside from the "public persona" (i.e. the music) and she knows nothing about me, so once the "I'm a big fan" is out of the way, where do you go? Nowhere, as it turns out - just to how she's not in Seattle enough, but hopes to come back in January.

Maybe I'll think of something witty to say by then...

* * *

Erin, as I said, was the opening act tonight. She opened for a guy named Mike Doughty, who has the world's worst band website. I say this because the "samples" of his songs contained thereon are each only 3 seconds long. That's just stupid. So, I was left, for a while leading up to tonight, wondering whether or not he'd be worth sticking around for after Erin was done playing.

Then, out of nowhere on Saturday, The Delightful Jeni Garber sent me an email to tell me that Mr. Doughty, who is the former front-man for Soul Coughing, was playing with Erin and, since I was likely going to the show anyway, I should make sure to check him out. "I really like his sound," says Jeni. "It's worth seeing."

Serendipity!

Mike came out to much applause and said "The name of my band is the name of my name. We are the Mike Doughty Band." And then he started playing. The Delightful Jeni Garber is no liar; his sound is worth seeing. It's really good, too. Sort of a small-scale rock jam-band, with keyboards and bass (as in standing bass, not bass guitar) backing the guitar and drums. Dude had me hooked from the first.

In contrast to Erin, who, for all that she clearly enjoys what she does, has a strong touch of grace about her, Mike has a sense of disbelief about him, as if his every smile says "Can you believe that I get paid to do this shit?" Not that he doesn't take what he does seriously; when the ambient noise from the crowd got to be too much for him he stopped playing in the middle of one song and said "how about we play a quick game of 'shut the fuck up?' I'll say 'shut the fuck up' and you all say 'shhh.'" Fans, as fans often do, tossed out the names of songs they wanted him to play. "Mmm... no," he said, and "Probably not. Maybe. Sure, but later. No. No. What else? No, not that." In other words, he's a funny guy.

I wanted his CD but, sadly, from purchasing Erin's T-shirt, I'd run out of the cash to buy either of his albums. I'll order them online, though, sometime soonish if I can spare the money. I wonder, too, if Soul Coughing is any good. I'm only passingly familiar with them, which is to say I know the name and not much more.

I've let a few things fall by the wayside in the past few weeks, vis a vis blogging, at least. Let me see if I can sum it up quickly:

Dar Williams: I skipped the Dar show on Wednesday. Some of you will now undoubtedly be wondering if I'm feeling alright, and I assure you that I am. It's just that I had a test in Japanese on Thursday and decided that getting my master's degree was more important than seeing Dar. This one time, at least. Plus, by staying home, I got to talk on the phone with Sarah Who Is Awesome. The conversation, as you might expect, was awesome.

November: Speaking of awesome things, my invitation to Aaron and Jen's wedding came in the mail this week. Plus their wedding's just before Thanksgiving, which means I get to be home for that, too.

Smallville: Same problem with Aquaman here as in Super Friends: they had to invent a water-based problem for him to have a reason to be around. Also, sufer style was never cool. Not even in the 80's, when people thought it was. Also also, while I'm not a huge fan of Tom Welling's pecs, it probably wasn't the smartest move on the producers' part to film the episode where he goes topless after he'd stopped working out.

Kamikaze Girls: A Japanese biker girl head-butting a Japanese Loli is a universally funny image. When it shows up repeatedly in a movie that's cute, funny, bizarre and, at turns, heart-warming, you're pretty much set. See this if you can.

Arkham Asylum: One of the classic Batman stories, re-released in a normal-sized trade, includes a copy of the script. It has one of the best lines from Batman ever. The rogues have Batman trapped and at their mercy. They're debating what to do with him. "We should take his mask off and get a look at his face," says one. "Don't be obvious," says the Joker as he looks at Batman's grim mask. "That is his face."

Mirrormask: Lukas accurately quotes me as saying that "I have never seen a movie that so fully reflected the tastes of its director." Neil Gaiman, Dave McKean and the Jim Henson's company were locked in a room. This is the movie they made. It's of the "unhappy girl gets sucked into wonderous yet crappy other world" genre. Some reviewers regard this as a bad thing. They are stupid, for this movie is excellent.

I think that pretty much covers the highlights. I need to get better about keeping a schedule, I think. But, then, that's usually the case these days. Pardon, I'm off to give being productive a whirl. Or possibly to watch the Princess Bride. I haven't decided.

I'm listening to Hawthorne Heights' album, The Silence in Black and White, right now. It's pretty good stuff; post-punk with melody. Even though they're less pop-y, they remind me a bit of Good Charlotte, which is sort of odd.

Anyway, I'm listening as I read and the chorus for one of the songs sinks into my head: I know I'm outside your window with my radio. "That's a 'Say Anything' reference," I think to myself. "There's nothing else it can be."

So, I hop to the liner notes and, sure enough, there it is: commentary from the band's frontman, who wrote the song. "I included this in the lyrics, because my favorite movie of all time is Say Anything by Cameron Crowe. My girlfriend and I... watch this all the time. I was pretty much letting her know that no matter what happens, I am not afraid to stand next to an old Malibu holding an old boom box. (If that's what it takes.)"

Awesome!

I haven't mentioned Bishop Allen around here in over a year, and even that was only to comment that they have a song on the Saved soundtrack. I haven't talked about their music since May of 2004. Which is odd, because they're one of my favorite bands.

The problem is that they only have one album. They'd been working on their second, Clementines, for over a year, but started shopping around for a label. For a while, the rumor was that they'd signed with Polyvinyl, which is cool as that's the label for both Rainer Maria and Mates of State, both acts that I love. Only apparently the Polyvinyl deal fell through and fans of Bishop Allen were bereft of new tunes from them on CD.

But today I saw something really strange at the Bishop Allen website. The band's decided to do something... well, a little nuts. They're releasing a new four song EP every month of 2006, for $5 each, building up to the anticipated release of Clementines next year, which won't contain any songs from the EPs. Four songs a month, for twelve months, plus a ten to twelve track album after that. So about 60 new songs over the course of the next year. That's just crazy.

Crazy awesome.

Because she loves me, Erin McKeown released a six song EP today. It's a short introduction, an interview and tracks that she performed live on Morning Becomes Eclectic on KCRW. The EP's a download only, from any of the usual places that you'd download music. If you've got a real audio player, you can check out the whole 36 minute long set for free right over here. (Not sure how long that'll last, though.)

Now, you should know that it's not new stuff. The six songs (Aspera, Beautiful (I Guess), We Are More, White City, Float and Life On the Moon) are all off of Erin's most recent album. But I think Erin's live performance energy, and a bit of the improvisation/re-orchestration she brings to a gig, comes across pretty well. Interview's snazzy, too. "Smokey-voiced." Damn. A little more of an accent than I've heard from Erin in the past, which is interesting.

Live On KCRW, available now. Because Erin McKeown loves me, dammit.

Last month, Mates of State played at Schine. Some folks will already know this as the student center at Syracuse University; everyone else has just been informed. The incomparable Erin McKeown is playing at Schine at the end of March.

The doomshield mocks me.

On the up side, Mates of State hit Seattle on April 20th. Whee!

As I've mentioned in the land of previously, Bishop Allen's releasing a four-song EP every month for the next twelve. I got my copy of the second EP, appropriately title "February," in the mail the other day, only it had a big old fractalated crack in it, thus rendering it unplayable. I fired an email off to the fine folks at Bishop Allen (1/2 of whom are named Christian) and, without question, complaint or comment, they sent me off a replacement, which arrived today.

The music on February (and the music on January, although I didn't stop to mention it earlier) is awesome. However I'm finding the whole thing tantalizingly frustrating, a sort of hot, musical strip-tease. The four songs are good, after all. Pretty damn good, actually. But just when you're getting into the groove -wham!- there ends the EP. The listening will be much easier when the next two or three months' EPs come out, I imagine; I'll put them all in the stereo at once and listen to them in as if they were but one album, with only the tiny whirring of the multi-disc changer spinning in a circular fashion every 15 minutes or so to give lie to the illusion.

Sort of slacked off on talking about stuff, haven't I? Sorry 'bout that. Let's see, what's been going on...

I saw a show at Neumos on Thursday, which I realized I'd been to before, with The Delightful Jeni Garber. The first opening act was Smoosh, who are two 12 year old girls. I'm not joking. I missed their set, though, because I got lost. Second opening act was Viva Voce. Indie band with a rock sensibility; they use kazzoos and love the whammy bar.

Mates of State, my reason for going to the show, closed the night. Last time I saw them live was four years ago; they were good then, but they've gotten a lot better. It's weird to watch them, though. Most bands look at the audience every so often; not so, here. A husband/wife pair (on drums and keyboards, respectively), they spend pretty much their entire time on stage making eyes at each other. It's sweet, but sort of disgusting at the same time.

Speaking of relationships, my folks are apparently trying to set me up with someone. The idea is even sillier when you know that the girl lives in Jersey. It's like a double shot of parental manipulation; move back to Jersey and get set up. Christ. I think I'll just stay in Seattle; I won't stand for this shit.

In unrelated news, I saw Silent Hill on Friday. Highlights included Sean Bean surviving the movie and the main character wearing sturdy boots instead of shitty high heeled shoes. I wasn't so happy with the ending, though that may be more a reflection of my opinions on horror movies than on this movie in particular. Cool and well done, though, overall, but not as scary as I thought it'd be. Maybe a good thing, since I'm sort of a pansy when it comes to horror.

I think that about covers it. I'll check back in with something entertaining soon.

Two weeks ago, my iPod broke. I charged it up and listened to three or four songs before it froze. It didn't play music or respond to any of my button-pushing. Then it's battery died. I charged it up again once or twice, but the iPod gave me the same reaction each time, and no amount of fiddling with the settings could force it to do something different. "Suck," said I, since I like having an iPod.

But I remembered that the thing is still under warranty, so away I went today to get my Pod replaced. In the past two years technology has advanced far beyond my old Pod; other, newer machines laughed at the thing as I walked into the Apple Store's air-conditioned white plastic nirvana. The girl at the help desk held my Pod as if it were a soiled diaper and threw me a look of pity. Then she brought out a new Pod - 60 gigs; larger, full-color screen; plays videos; hip black face; a device in all ways superior to the sad machine I'd walked in with. And she gave it to me for free, no questions asked. Behold the power of my warranty.

When the girl asked if I wanted to buy a two-year warranty for my new Pod, for $59.99, I jumped at the chance. My old protection had just worked out wonderfully, after all, and the new warranty was $20 less than the last one. The way I see it, it's like buying the new Pod I'd have to buy in two years now, only at a cost of $60 instead of $300. Not a bad deal.

Now I'm no fan of planned obsolescence. I'd rather a thing work right for years than have to be replaced. But when the replacement is such a functional step up, I'm inclined to be magnanimous. Now if only my computer'd had the disk space on to store all of my old music...

That Queen May Well Be The Greatest Rock Band of All Time

I mean, don't get me wrong, Joe Strummer is cool and all, but does he have a PhD in Astrophysics?

Sometimes this sort of thing horrifies me...

...but I think this is just sublime.

Countdown: 63 days

This being a production of Sad Kermit

Unfortunately, you'll have to go to their MySpace site to hear an absolutely haunting version of the Rainbow Connection, which they call "the Rainbow Disconnection." Actually, you could just link to the mp3 here. It's freaky what a key change and a shift to minor chords can do. I mean it: absolutely haunting

New people introduce you to new things. One of the cooler people I've met since my return to Seattle has introduced me to two new bands. Indulge me, please, while I steal a page from Hans and blog about their albums.

First up, The Libertines (Up the Bracket and a second, self-titled album). From the name, I expected them to be some sort of Decemberists rival-wannabes. What they really are is... well, imagine The Clash, but with about 40% of the punk bled out and yet still somehow good. I think part of it is that they show some of the same wit and cleverness you got from early Who, and the passion is very much there, but there's a little less desperation, too. Also, they're very British. They sort of plow through songs, and while they're not unplugged, they're a little lo fi and under-produced, which adds a lot to the sound. Unfortunately, it also means they never quite reach the level of raw noise they would if they actually were The Clash, which is a definite disappointment. I like them despite that, though, and it's a shame they're not together anymore.

Fortunately, The Fratellis are. These guys are basically a British We Are Scientists with the ratio of rock and pop flipped (which is to say: more pop, less rock). They make the guitars more prominent, but give them less reverb, string them a little looser (for the twang) and play fewer power-chords. At the same time, they cut out the furious pounding of the drums and lay down a steady back-beat at the root of everything and vamp the harmonies to keep the songs on-theme. It makes them a little more comfortable listening than the Libertines are, and the production boosts the sound to compensate and keep them from blending into the background. They sound, actually, a little like WAS mixed with Blur. Very good stuff, and I'm looking forward to their next album.

(and, entertainingly, Pandora will play both bands right alongside We Are Scientists when you put any one of those three in as the key band of a station.)