Author: Dave

Posted on

best of 2007.5


Midnight on Thursday night and I’m finishing up this entry in my boxer shorts.

Worked hard at the sawmill today: planned stuff and did stuff and worked on all sorts of things. I’ve decided that these last few weeks of work before my sabbatical are kind of like the last few weeks before summer vacation when you’re in junior high. Y’know, the slackening pace of student and teacher, the heightening anticipation, and the stashing of shaving cream and eggs just off-campus for easy retrieval after that very last bell. OK, the same sans the shaving cream part, at least. Let’s do this.

Earlier in the week, I promised two entries: one with new pictures of Keaton (done), and the other one being my “best of” list for the music of the first half of 2007. I’m glad to say that I was able to come through on both.

5. Spoon – Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

Somewhere in my head, I’ve long known that Spoon was “kinda good.” Years ago, I got pretty hung up on the bouncy “Everything Hits At Once” from their 2001 Girls Can Tell album, and I’ll be the first to admit that I was guilty of undervaluing their last effort. With that in mind, I grabbed this new Spoon album determined to give it it’s fair chance. Turns out, I didn’t need a ton of convincing, as I could tell the record would be solid from the moment the needle locked into that 1st groove (or… the laser interprets that first “pit” as a 1 or 0… whatever). Britt Daniel’s raspy voice has always mated perfectly with the punchy guitars that punctuate the archetypal Spoon number, but on this record the guys mix it up with irresistible tracks like “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” and haunting little bits like “The Ghost of You Lingers,” this album has an eclecticism that’s hard to beat. If you’re into good music, you won’t want to miss it.

Listen to Spoon at the Hype Machine.

4. Andrew Bird – Armchair Apocrypha

I first got into Andrew Bird a couple years back when someone listed his previous album, Andrew Bird and the Mysterious Production of Eggs, as one of the best overlooked albums of that past year. Indeed, I was intrigued by that album, and ended up falling quite in love with Bird’s softer tunes and thoughtful lyrics. So, when I saw Armchair Apocrypha hit my favorite legal source for purchasing music with real currency (hahaha), I snapped it up in anticipation. Simply put: this album is gorgeous. I can recall the first time I put it on the headphones. I was flying to Oregon and had only loaded it on the iPod that morning. As we rocketed into the skies, the lead track, “Fiery Crash,” a song about envisioning a plane crash, seemed to know right where I was and what I was doing. Throughout the flight the album kept delivering, track after track – and, although on a plane may not be an appropriate location for everyone to have their first “Fiery Crash” experience – I recommend you track this down and pay attention.

Listen to Andrew Bird at the Hype Machine.

3. Arcade Fire – Neon Bible

I’ll admit it: I psyched myself out with this album. I was (and still am) so incredibly enamored with the Arcade Fire’s debut record, that I expected the Earth. And, I got caught up so tight in the online hype and anticipation, that when the thing began to leak, track-by-track, I listened to each one and judged it as a standalone. This is a horrible way to experience an album as a whole. And, by the time the whole thing leaked proper, the few songs I hadn’t heard didn’t do much to weave the whole thing together for me. I had ruined it. It was only after I revisited the album months after I’d decided that Neon Bible and I needed “a break” that I truly began to appreciate the effort. I wish it would’ve happened differently, that I could’ve heard the thing in one feel swoop ala my initiation to Funeral – where I sat rapt listening to one brilliant track after another. But, I was greedy and wanted to hear hear hear. Anyway, after our time apart, my heart of course grew fonder. And, now, I love every bouncing bassline, brassy horn break, and swirling organ trill. Back when it came out, I mused that the magic of a debut album like Funeral could likely not be matched no matter how solid a sophomore effort – and I was right. This isn’t Funeral – it’s Neon Bible; and it ain’t swill… it just sure ain’t Funeral.

Listen to The Arcade Fire at the Hype Machine.

2. The Shins – Wincing the Night Away

So, the 2007 Shins album leaked waaay back in October of 2006, with a street-date of January 23, 2007. I first wrote about it here. In fact, this album gave me issues when I was working hard to compile last year’s top ten, as I had to constantly remind myself it was a 2007 album and shouldn’t rank with the other contenders, despite the fact that it was illicitly one of my favorite albums of calendar-year 2006. It’s hard for me now, actually, to get my head back where it was all those months ago and really understand the awesomeness I felt while first getting into this record. But, one reminiscent spin on the iPod and the joy comes flooding back. The Shins are one of the most consistently brilliant bands I’ve heard in a long time, and this album is no exception. Their music is fresh and wonderfully structured: just complex enough to delight music-o-philes with its interesting twists, turns, and hooks; yet “everyday good” enough to hook even the casual Top 40 minded listener. Give this a listen, and try not to swoon just a little bit at amazing moments like singular instance of a harmonized rise of “seaa legs” in “Sea Legs” – that’s a personal challenge.

Listen to The Shins at the Hype Machine.

1. Of Montreal – Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer?

Oh, people… people, people people… In this particular race, the competition is just lengths and lengths behind… And, as feverishly as they may try to hasten their pace, the yen for victory so clear in the bulging of their eyes and the flexing of their muscles, they are simply incapable of outstripping the Hissing Fauna. This album is a powerhouse of modern-day psych-pop, reveling in bouncy pop beats and awash in swishing, swirling, bubbling musical accouterments. With head-bobbing synth-drenched tunes like, “A Sentence of Sorts in Kongsvinger,” this album goes down like a heaping spoonful of sugar – penetrating deep into your pleasure centers leaving the corners of your mouth no option but to upturn in a grin. Seriously tho… what can beat this for top album of the year, I ask?

Listen to Of Montreal at the Hype Machine.

And, before I get a lot of complaints (yeah, that’s gonna happen), as a technicality I’m not including albums that I really got into post-June 2007 (cough, Animal Collective, ahem Los Campesinos). And, I also purposely didn’t include the Panda Bear album that I once panned, and have since come to truly enjoy – I’ll save inclusion of that, and the embarrassment of flip-flopping, for the end-of-year list if it still holds up.

That’s it for tonight. Enjoy your weekend, and I’ll do the same.

Posted on

redeemed by keaton


Happy Wednesday peeps. Before we begin, let me fulfill one of yesterday’s blog’s ending promises and go ahead and link right up-front to the new batch of pictures for July I added to Keaton’s gallery. Check those out and enjoy.

Now that that’s over with…

I spent some amount of time today trying to scheme a way to earn frequent flier miles when paying my mortgage. The idea of spending so much money on a regular, monthly basis sparked the thought: Why not earn free airline tickets at the same time? And, while I was at it, why not pay down my fear-they’re-gonna-live-forever college loans with a mileage card and earn free flights that way too? As those are really my only two large recurring payments, I figured I should do my best to get some bonus when paying them. I’m sad to say, however, that, after much research, I wound up empty-handed. Seems there’s just no real way to earn miles for paying your mortgage… or is there?

On most of the frequent flier forums online, getting miles for mortgage payments is referred to as the “holy grail” of points programs. Apparently, back in early 2002 – some folks did indeed locate that “holy grail,” by way of a Bank of America mile-earning debit card. Being a debit card, and not a credit card, the user had only to have a Bank of America account in which there was money to draw from. Points were earned whenever money went through the debit card. Turns out, some enterprising frequent-flier found out that most merchants who sold money orders accepted debit cards as a form of payment (credit cards are prohibited when purchasing money orders, for obvious fraud concerns, but since debit cards are backed by actual cash – they are allowed). This Bank of America miles-earning debit card user published his miles-for-mortgage exploit: Use the debit card to purchase Western Union money orders, then use those money orders to pay his monthly mortgage. Viola! Miles for mortgage! The scheme made such a splash, it even got picked up by the nations’ most respected financial rag, the Wall Street Journal. The attention, however, prompted Bank of America to quickly put the kybosh on the scheme by denying points for money order purchases. Spoilsports.

So, I was right all along… there’s no way. Bummer.

During my research though, I ran across some detailed discussion of something I’d already heard of before, but only in passing: “mileage runs.” Frequent-flier mile junkies will scout out and recommend the cheapest multi-hop “runs” for miles, breaking the end result down to a cost-per-mile number. Often, these runs can be long, even overnight, trips through four, five, maybe six destinations before returning to home base – but with a price so cheap that the miles earned on the long journey are worth the trouble. Mileage runners often talk about achieving “gold” status simply with a few bargain-basement runs.

If I were single, I think I’d do this. Might be a fun way to spend a couple days: flying to several US cities, eating in different airports, listening to music – all without the burden of a single piece of luggage. And anyway, I like traveling, especially when I’m alone. It makes me feel “important,” or something. Some of these guys even plan mileage run “meet-ups” in airport lounges or bars during plane changes. For some reason, that calls to the entrepreneurial wanderlust in me. Yeah… mileage running.

Sorry I don’t have more. Goodnight!

Posted on

a segue-segue


Good evening friends. Gonna talk mostly music today, sorry if that’s not your bag.

But, before all that… Recently, I mentioned that the epic hike Anthony and I had planned for our coincident sabbaticals (sabbatici?) was “off.” Turns out, Anthony has turned around his poor luck and our hike is now officially back “on.” Unfortunately, however, we’ve had to reduce the planned itinerary due to a more limited span of overlapping available time betwixt us. Fortunately, though, we still get to do it. The current plan involves trekking only half the originally planned route, meaning about a week-solid on the trail instead of fourteen days.

Tonight, after mowing the lawn, edging the lawn, and blowing off the sidewalk, I came inside and did some hardcore music research – the likes of which I’ve not done in quite a while. Inspired by this super-interesting (to me, at least) article I stumbled on the other day, which alleges that much of Jimmy Page’s prodigious musical output was either pilfered or recycled, I decided I didn’t know quite enough about that part of the Beck/Page/Clapton lineage.

So, while at work I queued up Jeff Beck’s Truth to jog my memory, and when I got home I hit the end-all-be-all of music knowledge, allmusic.com, to attempt to figured out what Yardbirds albums I should own but didn’t. Then, list in-hand, I headed off to my favorite legitimate music download site (hahahah!) and began the deluge of bits. In the end, I grabbed the the entire Yardbirds discography, as well as a boxset, and some live and rare material. Tomorrow at work the music in my headphones will be more than a soundtrack to multitask by, it will be an education.

New tunes have their burden tho, friends… as I once again I find myself wanting a new iPod to hold everything I have. Woe to me…

Hey, speaking of mowing the lawn and music, let’s use those things as a nice segue into some reminiscing, shall we? OK!

Today, I decided to change up my normal routine of iPod on random while cutting the grass and instead put on Wishbone Ash’s 1972 classic, Argus. I freaking love that album, it somehow manages to combine the best “eerie” aspects of early Black Sabbath, the crunch of Led Zeppelin, and the progish melodies of Yes. I absolutely love that album. Interestingly enough, I only “discovered” Argus a mere ten-ish years ago. (Cue tinkly chime things and warbly-wavy video cut).

It was way back when I worked at Omni Records & Tapes in Merritt Island, Florida. Man, I loved that job. I was an “assistant manager,” which was a BS title that meant I got paid slightly more than minimum wage for the additional work of dealing with unruly customers, staying late to count the dosh and do the books, and getting the alarm code and a set of keys to the store. Even still, it was my dream job. A music freak employed in a music store, treading up and down the aisles, making recommendations, surprising the “old folk” with his knowledge, etc. Plus, I got to buy CDs at a dollar over wholesale, and I had access to almost any “import” I wanted. I swear I spent a full 50% of my paycheck right back into that store. The owner must’ve loved me, I basically worked for CDs.

Anyway, I worked there with a fellow by the name of Bob. Bob was a “true” manager, sitting one rung above my mere “assistantship” in the record store pecking order. Bob and I were fast friends from the start, sharing a common love of good music, beautiful women, and computers (my word, how’s that for a lonely-nerd resume?).

Warning, segue-segue: I had, in fact, had my first encounter with Bob years before I got my job at the record store. As a teenage student of classic rock-‘n’-roll, I had once come into Omni in search of an obscure early 70s record called Woyaya, recorded by the African rock-funk outfit Osibisa. At the time, my buddy Kyle and I had a copy on vinyl we’d liberated from his father’s LP collection – and I was trying to locate a CD copy. I can remember Bob’s quizzical look when I asked if he could special order the CD. “How’d you end up looking for that record?,” he asked, obviously familiar with it himself. I told him I had a vinyl copy, doing my best to exude the “in the know” nonchalance of a beyond-his-years music nut. Anyway, Bob managed to find that CD as an import, and special ordered it for me.

Whoa…. off-track here, let’s bring this back.

‘Twas record-store-manager Bob what introduced me to Wishbone Ash, and today’s lawn-mowing background jam, Argus. He used to use the downtime on the weekends to root through the discs in the store and turn me on to new tunes. One Sunday it was Wishbone Ash – I remember some young kid came in with his dad, and, as an aspiring guitarist, had his ears piqued by the disc on the sound system. That kid bought Argus before I even had a chance to listen to it all the way through. I did, however, immediately reorder two copies – one for restocking, and one for me. Hey, thanks Bob! Oh, and, related – ’twas record-store-manager Bob who also turned me onto Jeff Beck’s Truth, which I also mentioned above. That particular turning-on, however, happened just last Christmas when I was home in Florida. Keep the suggestions coming, my friend, I’m still happy to be your understudy.

Well, that’s it for now. Be sure to watch the blog this week for some new pictures of baby Keaton, and this years “half-best-of” list… I promise they’re all in the chute.

Goodnight.

Posted on

as many a young lad do become


Good evening folks, and a happy Tuesday to ya. T’was a rare humid day here in Northern California, somewhat cloudy by late afternoon and evening threatening rain. But, we got no rain. Came to the conclusion today that I need a bigger iPod. Or, alternately, another iPod altogether on which I can store only certain items – I’m thinking Beatles bootlegs, for instance, or bootlegs and live-albums in general. My 60GB just ain’t getting it done anymore…

When I was a young lad, somewhere around the tender age of twelve or thirteen, I became quite enamored, as many a young lad do become, with the beauty of the female form. And, while this blossoming interest in all things woman was less of something scholarly or noble, and more of something perverse and puberty-driven, my motivations didn’t provide with my enough shame to want to hide my burgeoning libido. So, I took the conspicuous approach – and plastered my pre-teen lair with racy imagery. Being a kid, however, and still having parents – I couldn’t easily cover my walls with the likes of Playboy centerfolds… I instead had to go with what I could get. And, that, my friends, is how the small alcove on the top bunk where I spent my nights became wallpapered with images cut deftly from the JC Penny catalog. That’s right, I had underwear models, swimsuit models, and the like, all taped from top-to-bottom in some crazy collage of unintentional soft-porn.

I can remember flipping to the middle of the thick color catalog, to the index, and looking for the keywords which would become my new decorations: “bra,” “bikinis,” “panties.” At the time, I don’t know why I wasn’t more embarrassed by my scantily-clad homemade pinups – it’s terribly humiliating to think back on now, and I can remember being somewhat disgusted with myself the day I tore it all down and replaced it with an equally idolatrous picture-collage of black-and-white images of the Beatles I’d clipped from a public library book (without regard, I might add, for others who may have one day checked out said book). But, at the time, I remember carefully tracing the edges of the models with the scissors, being careful not to shear off any boob- or butt-profile in doing so. What a disgusting, and outwardly needy-seeming, thing to do, right? What was wrong with me?

Finally, in the you-thought-you’d-never-see-the-day department: Keaton is, as suddenly as of just this morning, cutting her top two front teeth. Yes, that’s right. This near 17-month old baby of only two teeth is finally giving her bottom two buckies a couple buddies to hang out with. Her sleeping tonight has been fitful, she wakes often crying and we go in to put some numbing stuff on them. Funny that most parents have probably already experienced this by 17 months, but not us. Her teeth are just slow starters, I suppose. I’ll post some pictures of her with her shiny new top-fronts as soon as they’re nice and erupted.

Goodnight.

Posted on

family came to town


Hey there folks, remember this blog thing here on the internet where I used to write? I didn’t give up on it, or anything, I just took a nice break from writing, coincident with the vacation I took as family came to town. And, after a week-long hiatus from blogging, I must say I feel refreshed and happy for staying away briefly.
My only regret?: It’s now Sunday night and tomorrow I return to work. My only solace?: Only six more weeks until I’m off for two months… just counting down now.

We’re fresh off a two-night camping trip to one of our favorite local spots where, for the first time, we brought some rafts to play on the river we pitch tents alongside. I love the campsite so much, it feels remote, but is actually within an hour of civilization – and every time we go there I feel ultimately relaxed and taken-away. However, in all the times we’ve been there, we’ve never really played in the river much, aside from an occasional short swim in the frigid waters. This time, though, I had a blast rafting up and down the quarter-mile stretch of river that flanks the campgrounds, braving some easy “rapids” and simply floating around with the bottom half of a Newcastle cooling in the snowmelt waters.

Keaton seemed to enjoy herself too, and didn’t appear to mind the sand in her diaper or the thrice-daily smearings-on of SPF 45 sunblock at daddy’s less-than-gentle hands. She slept fairly well in the tent and liked hanging out by the water’s edge. I told Sharaun that my only wish would be that she were a little more on the “adventurous” side. Y’know, wanting to run down hills or venture off into the water with dad and stuff. But, I suppose I love her cautious guarded personality as much as I do every little bit of her, so no real complaints. Besides, her willingness to simply sit on a lap and enjoy some quiet time is kinda nice.

Oh, and, as a pleasant byproduct to telling the story of my time in the cold river – I think I’m ready to finally say that I’m “over” my cold-induced urticaria. I spent all weekend soaking in those freezing waters with nary an itch, hive, nor anaphylactic fit. The Lord be praised, I’ve been healed.

I’m gonna close this down now, but I’ll be back again tomorrow and hopefully onto my regular posting schedule this week. Also, I promise this week will see the “half-best of” list published… as it’s super behind right now. Goodnight folks.

Posted on

travel blitz


Vacation! No, seriously, I’m off all week this week. Prepare for another spate of spotty writing.

Spent Sunday afternoon planning and booking travel for my upcoming sabbatical. In the booked-and-looking-forward-to department: Hawaii for a family getaway on Maui, Florida for time with family, Keaton’s 1st trip to Disney World, and a semi-planned weekend in the Keys (baby with grandparents). In the to-be-booked department: a quick trip to Munich to meet some friends for Oktoberfest, and an on-the-cheap Vegas getaway. Finally, and sadly, in the not-happening-anymore department: the 14 day hike of the Muir trail Anthony and I were planning (his own sabbatical, which was to overlap mine, has fallen through). Yet, in spite of that disappointment, I’m extremely happy about the progress we made today.

It all gets really real when you start juggling skymiles, spending money, and scheduling time – which makes it all even more awesome to think about. Actually, I’m pretty pleased with our financial output in relation to the things we’re planning on doing. Used miles for the tickets to Florida and Hawaii (completely paid for Florida, got Hawaii for $115 round-trip each after mileage credits), paid a buddy for a week in his timeshare on Maui and saved a bundle on the “advertised” rates (which, I’m sure, are totally inflated to begin with), and am hoping to co-bunk and split hotel costs with some fellow Oktoberfest travelers. As a bonus, I was able to tack a weekend in Oregon with my folks onto the end of the Hawaii flights, and, if we do Vegas, Jeff’s got the hookup on accommodations and we can carpool down. So, all in all, it’s a pretty reasonably-priced travel blitz.

Sabbatical cannot come soon enough.

Well folks, I’m off. Goodnight.

Posted on

better in the cubicle than on the road


Wednesday and I’m back to work through Friday. Let me tell you, trying to get motivated in three working days sandwiched between week-chunks of vacation time is a tough thing to do. I sit here thinking about how, come Monday, I’ll be off for another week and won’t have to worry about all the moving and shaking at the sawmill.

I really am starting to get concerned with my level of “don’t give a shitism” lately – it’s becoming a bit more prevalent than even I expected it might with my sabbatical looming. It’s kind of like a long drive home late a night: The highway deserted and all those little white lines steadily disappearing under the car at that fixed rate; the road’s unintended pendulum lulling you to sleep. I’m driving that road here at work, doing my best to keep my chin from dropping as the monotonous day-to-day and the prospect of a warm bed (read: two months vacation) hypnotize me into autopilot. So I’ll do the same thing I do when I’m driving those late-night highways: Keep my right eye open so my wife can see it and know I’m alert, while letting the left eye slip. It never works, by the way – you always end up snapping your head up and popping your eyes open in shock: “How long was I out?! Oh God, that was close.” Let’s hope I’m better at it in the cubicle than I am on the motorways, shall we?

Anyway, I’m in Oregon again, this time just for an overnighter. I was so proud of myself, I managed to pack everything I need for the trip into my laptop bag so I didn’t need to carry any additional luggage. When I bragged about my packing accomplishment to Sharaun, she was less than thrilled. But, to me, it was quite the task. I saved room by deciding to re-wear the same pair of shoes (figured I could pull of black shoes with khakis as long as the accompanying shirt and belt were also black) and the same undershirt (hey, who’s going to know?).

I carefully tucked a pair of slacks, a polo shirt, and a fresh pair of boxers into my bag, and filled the outer pockets with the barest essentials of toiletries: brushes (of the hair and tooth family), deodorant, a tiny bottle of gel for my do, and my daily regimen of vitamins. Everything fit just perfect, even with my recently downsized and slimmer laptop bag. To me it was a testament to efficiency, everything I needed for 36hrs packed into something smaller than a briefcase. I was even further pleased with my minimalism in not getting a rental car (spent ~90min on public transit from the airport to work) nor a hotel (crashing at the folks’ place instead). It’s the small things that make me happy, really… it doesn’t take a lot.

Remember I had these big plans to watch movies on my iPod all the way to Oregon? Well, being that I had to rise bright and early at 4am to make it to the airport on-time for my departure, I opted to instead catch up on some sleep as I flew. I did, however, use the public transit time between the airport and sawmill to get mostway through Michael Moore’s SiCKO. Man, that flick is pretty powerful. Much better, in my opinion, than his previous stuff I’ve seen. And, by better, I mean less childish and defensive-seeming – but still just as indicting. The film didn’t come off nearly as self-righteous as I remember his others seeming, and was more a portrayal of our dismal system than a finger-pointing fest. I would actually recommend people watch this, it’s a rather self-supporting (not to mention scathing) commentary on our nation’s health care system, and is pretty compelling viewing. That’s not saying it’s right, or it’s perfect, or I’m on the Moore bandwagon (which, is kind of a loony-tunes bandwagon, if you ask me), but I’d still recommend it as interesting and enlightening.

Goodnight.