Category: tunes

Music. Bands. Songs. Concerts.

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you say tomato

Family.
Christmas Eve eve y’all. I don’t know if any of you saw, but today the blog was flat-busted. Yup, something was wrong on the server-side and all my scripts weren’t working. I couldn’t even log into the blog, so I’m writing this in a text file (just like the olden days). Anyway, chatted with the live tech support and they’re working to fix the problem, but I made a local copy of the database just in case. (Yeah, I’m stealing some neighbor’s wireless connection here at my folks’ place.)

The nine hour drive yesterday wasn’t all that bad, although the majority of it was in the dark and a little foggy. We made good time, and even stopped at a casino for a buffet dinner and a really bad cabaret show. By the end of the trip, there wasn’t an album in the world that sounded good. We listened to everything, and got sick of everything. I nearly crashed several times trying to watch Ben play Altered Beast on his laptop in the passenger seat, MAME is just too distracting for front-seat play.

The day we left, Pitchfork posted their top 50 albums for 2004. I always look forward to PF’s toplist, and usually find a few good albums I may have missed during the year. This year, I wanted to see how my personal top 10 stacked up against PF’s list. And, the results are in… they don’t prove much, other than that Funeral really was, by leaps and bounds, the best album of the year. Anyway, it was fun to see if I could remember the HTML for a table from memory – so here goes:

Dave’s Top 10 Position on PF list
1. The Arcade Fire – Funeral #1, I was pretty sure about this one.
2. The Killers – Hot Fuss Didn’t chart, not surprising… this is pure retro-pop indulgence, but I love it.
3. Brian Wilson – SMiLE #5, not bad for a 37 year-old LP.
4. The Radio Dept. – Lesser Matters Didn’t chart, but don’t let that turn you off… it’s great.
5. Interpol – Antics #27, we agree, it’s the half-best album of 2004.
6. The Go! Team – Thunder, Lightning, Strike #8, go team, go.
7. Modest Mouse – Good News for People Who Love Bad News #23, not bad for a commercial sellout (OK, they still rock).
8. The Stills – Logic Will Break Your Heart Didn’t chart, again… commercialpop at it’s best and most addictive.
9. DJ Danger Mouse & Jay Z – The Grey Album Didn’t chart, which surprised me… bringing a whole genre to the masses.
10. Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand #26, we both be likin’ the Franz.

I’d like to type more, but I’m tired and my laptop says I only have 13% battery left (there seems to be an outlet behind the couch, but that seems like a lot of effort right now). Tonight we introduced my folks to Ben’s folks in a large spaghetti dinner at the farm. Ben’s folks cooked, and we had a nice dinner for eight. It was a good time, but now I’m ready for bed.

Goodnight.

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down again

The PC is dead. Long live the PC.
One more day of work and then the road gets Wednesday. I’m looking more and more forward to getting out of town for a while, and to seeing my folks’ new place. Work is at this “apex” right now, an important phase in our project (they always seem to line up with big holidays), and things are crazy. I’m supposed to have the week after Christmas off, but I think I’ll be in a “checking in” mode with work since things are so hectic. Y’know, not quite a 40hr week, but not quite a vacation either. That’s fine, I don’t care. Then I’ll be “working from home,” or “WFH” as we abbreviate it on the whiteboards outside our cubes, the week Sharaun has her knee surgery… so for a while here work will be somewhat non-standard.

Nerd-talk coming up…

Well guys, something hosed my XP install, and my home system was trashed last night (tonight, as I write). It started out innocent enough, I noticed IE was displaying some fonts kinda funkily. Then my desktop icons started changing into icons for stuff that they weren’t… and I couldn’t run “regedit.” Then things slowed down, a buttload of files were missing from the c:\windows and c:\windows\inf directories… I couldn’t repair anything… something was wrooong. I assumed it was a product of installing Linux as a dual-boot, but it turns out that restoring my hard drive (pre-SuSE) resulted in the same problems. So, I reinstalled SP2… but that only seemed to make things worse. Tried to run Recovery Console, but that wouldn’t even launch. So, I reverted back to my last good backup… from sometime in early October. Yes, it was a catastrophic failure, but I’m back up and running and typing this on my dead-an-hour-ago PC, hooray for backups.

So… no Linux. Owell, I couldn’t get the sound working, and SuSE wouldn’t recognize my RAID array. On the plus side, I got to give my backup solution of choice a true test-run; and I’m happy to say it flawlessly restored my hard drive to it’s pre-Linux state. So that’s it. I think this is my last try, honestly. I’m gonna break down and buy Windows XP Pro and go with all freeware apps. Speaking of, I’m way excited for the impending new version of OpenOffice, and the newly released GIMP2.2 (dang I’m a nerd). As for my Windows problems, I don’t know what caused them. It wasn’t Linux… because my pre-Linux backup captured the problems. The only other thing I did was install, and subsequently uninstall, Firefox. It’s the only thing I can figure. Owell.

/end nerd-talk

Today Anthony and Ben and I decided to take our laptops down to the cafeteria and work. When they suggested the idea to me, I agreed immediately, writing “working from cafe, where I can see the sky” on that whiteboard outside my cube, the one we already talked about, remember? Actually, I got a lot done down there… away from the phone and and self-made interruptions.

I saw on a couple pages yesterday that Wal Mart will be offering a low-end cheap laptop that comes pre-installed with the Linspire OS. For $500, this thing reeks of a buy-it-and-install-pirated-XP strategy – which is I’m sure what many will do with the machine.

Sorry the entry was so techy today. Goodnight.

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to the rescue

Too soon homies, too soon.
Now, I know we just saw the Arcade Fire… but they are coming back in mid-January for a rock-star binge 3-night stand at the Great American Music Hall. I knew about the shows when we saw them at the first show, but just assumed we’d seen them once – so why again so soon? But man, reading all the hype about their LA shows selling out in less than 20min… and hearing that two out of the three nights in January have already sold out, it makes me wanna go see them again. I told Ben that since Suzy didn’t get to go last time, we might be able to use her missing them as an excuse… y’know, we’re doing it for Suzy. Yeah, that’s it. Problem is, that’s a mere week after Sharaun will have had her knee surgery… do I leave her alone to fend for her gimpy-self? Such a dilemma.

Hey, I’m starting this paragraph now! It’s “evaluation” time again at work, I’m sure most big works have something like this each year. Y’know, it’s where you’re compared to your co-workers and ranked for possible raises and promotions and whatnot. Some people hate it, but I have a theory that those people are just sucky workers. I don’t hate it, although I do get kinda tired of writing “reviews” of myself and others. It doesn’t scare me though, like it does some, I guess because I’m confident that I’m a decent worker, and that there are a lot crappier employees than me. The sucky workers who always complain about the process must have something to fear, I figure. The guilt of knowing you suck, or something. I don’t get too worried, I just tire of the long formal process of giving feedback about others, “assessing” myself, and then waiting for what seems an eternity before hearing how the money and promos finally pan out. It’s a necessary evil though, so I always do my best to write good reviews of my co-workers (the ones that don’t suck, at least). So, bring on the review… do your worst corporate-America… I’ve been not-sucking all year in preparation. Rank me, rate me, compare and contrast me, for I am a cubicle dweller known to his company as a number… and I am to be feared.

Speaking of work, got word the other day that it’s likely they’ll be willing to bring Sharaun to Taiwan – providing I stay for a monthish amount of time. So, that set us planning and scheming ways she might wrap a weekend in vacation days or something, so that she could be there for near a week with the minimal amount of time away from the classroom. If the whole affair gets approved, she essentially gets a free ride to Taiwan, and I get a little break from the hotel-room masturbation doldrums. I really hope it works out, I think she’d get a big kick out of the city, and I’ve been there enough now to show her around pretty well. We could hit the night markets, Taipei 101, dig on some real Taiwanese food, and both party in the palatial hotel. I won’t miss home nearly as much if I can take her with me… so I’ve got my fingers crossed.

Tonight, when I asked Sharaun to pause the OC so I could do the dishes, she decided she would take that time to run up to the store and pick up a gift for her “secret santa” at work. She left, I went about my business: putting away clean dishes, putting new ones in the dishwasher, taking the house trash out to the bin and the bin to the curb, and feeding the cat. Somewhere just after taking out the trash, my cellphone rang. It was Sharaun. “Hey babe, do you see my wallet on the kitchen table?” “No… no I don’t,” I replied. She sighed heavily. See folks, this is not the first time she’s gone shopping only to get to the register and realize she forgot her wallet… in fact, it’s not even the first time this week she’s done it. I looked around the house with her on the phone, and finally located the wallet in the guest bathroom. I told her it was here, she sounded sad, and we said goodbyes.

After that, something happened… I can’t explain it… I guess it was like my “good husband” instinct kicked in. I called her back right away and asked where she was. I grabbed her wallet, threw on some flip-flops, and headed out for a wallet-delivery. Running out in my standard after-work ensemble of shorts and a t-shirt, still slightly damp from dish-washing, I got some strange looks from the people bundled up for the cold. At Target we did a little shopping, and overheard a highly-comical conversation between two white teenage Target stockboys, who were restoring order to the rifled rack of Christmas cards, about who’s lyrics were more poetic: 2 Pac or Biggie Smalls’. It was highly entertaining, their recitation of accolades for the two gunned-down gangstas drilled into their heads by MTV’s “Diary” and VH1’s “Behind the Music sounded so serious.

I’m outta here guys, goodnight.

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just plain green

Heehaaw... am I really an ass?
Saturday night, just got half-done putting up the Christmas tree. Since it’s fake, there’s about an hour of setup time sorting, attaching, and “fluffing” the branches to make the tree look its best. Sharaun’s not been feeling well and has picked up a cough, so we only went halfway tonight and will finish tomorrow. Today was a day of Christmas shopping, Kristi lending me her chick’s-eye and helping me with Sharaun’s gifts. And tonight we all went to the local sushi joint for a meal in honor of my nameday. Some of the gang went in and got me an awesome dart set as a gift, with all sorts of interchangeable shafts and barrels and flights and other pro-sounding dart parts. I don’t know if I mentioned, but we brought back a really neat pub-style dartboard with us from Florida, y’know the kind that is inside a little wooden enclosure with foldout doors and chalkboards to keep score and whatnot. So, the dart set was particularly thoughtful and prudent.

I’ve almost decided we’ll never get our tree fully decorated. Sharaun’s sick, and when she’s sick she’s miserable. Not to be mean, she can be the “strong woman” and all, but when she’s sick she plays it for all it’s worth. So, we erected the tree yesterday and strung the lights today, then gave up due to sickness. We have boxes strewn about the living room, half-opened with ornaments ready to be hung. Maybe we’ll get to it one evening this week, I’m not sure. Sharaun’s pretty wrecked when she gets home from work. Ho-hum… despite all I do y’all, the place still looks like I live with a teenager. Clothes on the floor; half-hung decorations littering the living room; the cabinet from which the bowl, still holding the darkened-milk results of a mid-day bowl of Cocoa Pebbles and left out on the coffee table, was removed still hang open. Ahhh… whatever, I know the rest, you know the rest… no point in writing.

Back to the subject of my bday loot, I got some really cool stuff. Friends Kristi & Erik got me the Daily Show book, America, which has ousted the “Trump Girls” edition of Maxim from the tops of the bathroom reading list. The book is clever and hilarious, and the fact that a couple of pachyderms bought it for someone who tends to favor donkeys shows that humor can transcend partisism… or something else, I dunno. Sharaun got me this, which is really cool. Kind of like the portable jambox of yore, this thing uses my wireless internet connection to sync with all the MP3s on my computer, making them available to me anywhere (within range, that is). The portable speakers are passable for working-in-the-garage or grilling-outside scenarios, and it can also plug into the home stereo via optical or RCA when more volume is required. Not a bad invention, and from initial tests yesterday, it seems to work pretty well. An awesome gift, something I completely didn’t expect.

I guess that’s it for today, because I’m done with ideas. Tomorrow maybe, maybe it’ll be better then.

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a mac mac

Yaaawwwn....
You guys see that some armchair commenter laid down some pretty blasphemous comments on yesterday’s entry? How dare he call into question the official judging procedures? You have insulted the integrity of the ruling body. And, believe you me, this is one integrit body… that rules.

A while back my buddy Shaine sent me a raincoat as a gift. A strange gift, perhaps, but this raincoat was a little different. It’s a Bernie Mac Show raincoat, and one like it was given to all the cast and crew for the 3rd season. I’m not the biggest Bernie Mac Show fan, but I’ve seen it before and laughed, but the raincoat is nice – made by Columbia and heavy duty and stuff. If you remember, there’s no love lost between umbrellas and I, so when I awoke to a howling rain this morning I decided to pop the Bernie Mac Show raincoat’s cherry. It’s a super-nice raincoat, traditional raincoat-yellow with a snug hood and warm pockets. The emblazoned Bernie Mac Show logo is only on the left breast and isn’t overly garish.

Boy, you wouldn’t believe how many questions the Bernie Mac Show raincoat elicits. Upon getting to work, I hung it on the hanger near the front of my cube. Almost everyone that stopped in the cube asked about the Bernie Mac Show raincoat. “I know someone who knows someone who works for the show,” I’d say… not planning to brag about the Bernie Mac Show raincoat, but none-the-less kinda happy I’d worn the Bernie Mac Show raincoat. From now on I’ll wear the Bernie Mac Show raincoat more often… who knew it could make me cool…. -er… cooler.

Well, the Arcade Fire show was last night at the Bottom of the Hill. Oh my lord people, sold-out show, packed wall-to-wall with people ready to see this band. And my word did they rock tits. They sounded great, and had the energy and on-stage enthusiasm I love to see in bands. Seven people on stage running through the encyclopedia of musical instruments: steel drum, upright bass, violin, accordion, even then ventilation pipes made cameos as percussion. When the songs called chants of “ahhh-ahhh-ahhh” or “ohhhh” the whole band would rear back or lean open-mouthed into the audience, singing loud and happy – six people standing in a line playing music and howling their lungs out, it’s a sight to see. Aside from that, they sounded excellent, with the songs coming off pretty much standard to what I’m used to on the albums, and played a long set with a couple encores. I mean, I went to the show hoping to see what I think is this year’s best band – and the Arcade Fire did not disappoint me. Judging from the reaction from the crowd, the feeling was shared by more than a few last night. Go see this band, go buy this album. What more can I say? They rocked tits last night.

I make the bed every morning, and for some reason the activity it’s lined itself up in my routine right after the boxers go on. So I’m always making the bed in my boxers, before I continue getting dressed. Some mornings, as I throw back the comforter, the sheets are still warm where I had been sleeping just a few minutes ago. You’d think a shower would be enough time for the bed to go cold. It’s mornings like today when that lingering warm spot is so tempting. The show didn’t end until 1am, and I turn down the sheets until 3am. It was a real struggle to stay awake on the drive last night, with the two girls asleep in the car, I had to crank SMiLE and crack the windows so the combination of sunny harmonies and icy air could poke at my brain. More than a few times I found myself realizing I had unwillingly changed lanes on the deserted highway… scary. Now I’ve got my Starbucks crutch holding me up in this I-swear-I-just-went-to-bed morning hours. I have no room to complain though, Sharaun’s alarm goes off at 4:44am, less than two hours from when we’d finally retired.

Nothing more, too tired. Until tomorrow then.

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dave’s top 10, 2004 edition

Winner!
Christmas is sneaking up on me… and I have no gifts yet. Luckily, and wisely, Sharaun gave me a wishlist this year. From past gift-giving performances, I suppose she decided a pointed-list would be her best bet. Not that my gifts suck or anything, but sometimes I have a hard time remembering what she’s hinted at wanting in months preceding holidays, anniversaries, birthdays, etc. With me, a list is definitely the best bet. As specific as possible really, because even if the list says “scarf set,” I’ll still mess it up. I need things like ISBN numbers or other unique identifiers, or I’ll get it wrong. Undoubtedly, I will recruit some female to come shopping with me, as I always do – because I simply don’t trust myself to buy things that are “hip” and relevant. I have no taste, and I don’t really mind… taste is overrated or something.

Here I sit… talking on the phone to some people in Taiwan. Somehow, the sound of my voice is being turned into little pulses and funneled under the ocean or bounced off satellites in the sky, over to a little island where it’s morning instead of evening. And even though I’m the only whiteboy on the call, ten native Chinese-speaking people are speaking broken English for my sake. Could give you a big head, y’know. How much more important, how much more intellectually superior must I be to warrant such treatment? Yeah, I know… not very, but it’s fun to take the notion to extremes. I feel this tired theme of the differences between Taiwan and the US is played out here… I will end this paragraph now.

Ever since writing about SMiLE last week, I’ve been admittedly obsessed with it. I broke out the old bootleg version I’d had (what I now know as the “Guidry Mix”) and meticulously compared the ’67 tracks to the ’04 tracks. I researched at high-volume, comparing verse and chorus and hi-hat and cymbal. I read volumes, headphones blaring, amazed at the amount of data and writing that exists in the electronic-ether of the Internet on the subject. What made me dismiss the sessions when I first downloaded them, I have no idea. I submit though, that I may be a victim of the hype here. There’s some truth to the notion that if you’re told something is Godsend often enough and by enough people, you may just tend to be a little more willing to proclaim it Godsend yourself. I don’t know if that’s it, but I genuinely like the album… and I don’t like the Beach Boys, they are sooo… whitebread. Oh god, someone stop me… I can only write about what consumes me.

Shortly here, folks. Shortly here and I’ll be another year on this orb. I think the ones I’ve spent here thus far have been pretty good, all things considered. My parents are still married, I’ve never been to a funeral, and I’m happy. I can only hope things go on as swimmingly as they’ve been, and I really have no reason to think they won’t. Birthdays are cool, they kinda make you feel special. I don’t think I’ll ever be one to fret about aging, just like I don’t fret much about balding. So what. I get old, I get bald. Now, tease me about back-hair or lack of athletic-acuity and I’m a sniffling mess… but stay away from that and I’m indestructible.

The Arcade Fire show tonight is sold out, and I love that. As Pat put it, I find it awesome that we get to go and others don’t. I mean, some people wanted to go – but couldn’t. We can; they can’t. And while yes, I’ve been on the other end of that concert-elite, and it sucks, I’m glad to be on the rad-end of it today. Since I’m on the musical theme for this entry, and I because I think it’s safe to call the year at this point, I’m gonna go ahead and do it. The top albums of 2004, according to me, ranked from #1-best to #10-10th-best:

1. The Arcade Fire – Funeral
2. The Killers – Hot Fuss
3. Brian Wilson – SMiLE
4. The Radio Dept. – Lesser Matters
5. Interpol – Antics
6. The Go! Team – Thunder, Lightning, Strike
7. Modest Mouse – Good News for People Who Love Bad News
8. The Stills – Logic Will Break Your Heart
9. DJ Danger Mouse & Jay Z – The Grey Album
10. Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand

As always, these are ranked relative to a few criteria: longevity (how long the album lingered in the player), content (further subdivided into emotional, musical, production, etc.), personal-impact (did it make me feel good, sad, fix itself as the soundtrack for new memories?), and finally artistic-impact (how important was the album in the musical landscape?, groundbreaking?, etc.). I know no one cares… but I love making the list, so whatever. Yeah, I know the Stills’ album was late 2003, but I didn’t get it until this year… so yeah. And that’s it… seems kinda anticlimactic now.

Goodnight everyone… I’m tired.

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passing and gassing

Drool cleanup at the front register.
Sharaun‘s grandfather died on Saturday; I took the call from her mom, and broke the news when she returned from Christmas shopping. She took it well, as did I, because there’s really not much else you can do. It was until Sunday night that she really took some time to think about it. I was brushing my teeth and she had already crawled into bed. I called out to ask if she’d set the alarms for the morning, and could tell by her choked reply that something was wrong. I walked over, toothbrush in hand and mouth full of paste-spit, to find her crying. I knew why, so I just gave her a little hug and went to finish my teeth. After that we both lay in bed, crying about Papa. He took a turn for the worse the day we left Florida for our Thanksgiving visit. For some reason, we didn’t visit him this time while we were there. Maybe it was the three-hour drive, maybe a too-packed schedule, but I think that really upset Sharaun. We made it a point to see everyone, but missed Papa this time.

Last night, while passively watching television at Pat’s place, Ben and I noticed a McDonald’s commercial announcing the return of the McRib. Oh man, I haven’t had a McRib since high school… and I think they were 99 cents back then. Anyway, nostalgia took hold – and Ben and I decided we’d hit the Golden Arches for lunch at work Monday, to once again taste the McRib. Now, I can’t rightly remember the last time I went to a McDonald’s. I’m not measuring it in years or anything, but it has been quite a while. If I do go, it’s usually a road-trip pit-stop for a couple of those old-skool hamburgers, and I think the last time I did that was on the haul from Houston to my brother’s base in Killeen this summer. We rolled up to the local McD’s around noon, and walked right up to order our McRib Value Meals. Pat and Wes decided to accompany us, so between the four of us we ordered four of the rectangular sandwiches.

McRibs are bad, guys. I mean, they are not good. Sure, they’re swimming in BBQ sauce, and loaded with little onions and pickles, but they’re not really meat. I mean, they are probably meat-based, but they sure aren’t off any bones that I know of. This tiny little rack of ribs, which, if you think about it, is kinda gross. What little animal’s ribs are this size? A kitten? A squirrel? The meat is reminiscent of the little glued-together strands of wood in a sheet of OSB… pressed together with some unholy glue into little rib molds. It tastes meaty enough, and barbecuey enough, and even kinda yummy if you can remove yourself from the notion of its origin. At $2.50, the thing is hardly a steal… so I don’t think I’ll be going back again soon. But it was at least fun to tell everyone we were going to get McRibs for lunch…

Quarter to eleven on Monday night. I’m sitting here listening to an illegally-downloaded copy of U2’s new LP, while I refresh the indie group looking for more tunes to steal. I don’t care. Just got back from a nice get-together at Anthony’s, where we had some chili, beers, and made new friends. The wind is howling outside the window, making my newly-hung Christmas lights sway back and forth from the eaves. I can hear the gusts in the exhaust vents on the roof, echoing in the attic above. It’s only raining a little, but it’s cold. The wind makes it seem colder when you step outside. I like it. I sat and watched the gray skies at work today. Sure, I was in a meeting, but I can stare and think at the same time. What’s important, anyway? Trying to figure out the deep undercurrents of office politics, or watching gray clouds roll in for an evening storm? That’s what I thought.

So the indie group produced a hit, and now I’m happily listening to the new Iron & Wine EP to close down the evening. About time to hit the sack with my book and relax. Shaine’s promised me more scanned correspondence from the 6th grade, and I’m waiting anxiously to see what other whale-tales I may have spun to impress him. For now it’s time to call it a night though. Work comes in the morning, and I want to be ready for it, y’know? Like, ready to trudge in under the cold morning sun, resigning my day to sitting a’fore a CRT with a boom-mic hanging from my ear, talking of bits and bytes and current and loads and pins and bandwidths and spreadsheets and margins and deliverables and milestones and customers and ROIs. Argh… send me to the woods, where I can sleep on the ground.

I’m kinda tired of the whole “Dave out” thing. Goodnight, good morning.