Category: tunes

Music. Bands. Songs. Concerts.

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ashes to pheonix

A small crowd... read on and you'll see.
The problem with burritos is the non-homogenized nature of the ingredients. You inevitably end up with uniform strata of the varied component parts. This effect is particularly bad when the layers are arranged vertically down the length of the tortilla-tube. Horizontal layers aren’t as bad, as you still stand a fair chance of getting a wee taste of the sum parts in a single chomp (the likelihood of which varies as an inversely proportional relation to the diameter of the burrito). Vertical layers, however, are wholly unacceptable. Taco Bell’s 7-Layer Burrito is almost always layered vertically. This means I may go several bites and taste nothing but tortilla and sour cream, or tortilla and refried beans. It’s just not good. I would like to open a burrito joint where the would-be burrito eater chooses their ingredients, all of which are then placed into a rock-tumbler for thirty seconds before being emptied back into the tortilla and rolled up for consumption. I could call it La Casa del Burrito Uniformemente Distribuida, or something equally catchy.

I’m going to talk music now, you can skip ahead four paragraphs if you’d like.

Several times over the years, I’ve read about Brian Wilson’s “lost” masterpiece – SMiLE. Conceived as a follow-up to the much-acclaimed Pet Sounds album, it was never properly released back in the day. Over time, I’ve read so much about the legendary album, the mystery and tragedy and brilliance of the whole affair. A few years back, I downloaded what was said to be the “definitive” bootleg assemblage of the album, and wasn’t terribly impressed. Then again, I really didn’t give it much of a fighting chance. See, I’ve never been a Beach Boys fan. Like any good music-lover, I can appreciate the songwriting, masterful harmonies, and clever arrangements… I guess I’m just not a “surf music” fan (unless we’re talking Ventures and Dick Dale type guitar stuff). Anyway, I shelved the Smile bootleg fairly quickly and didn’t really revisit it.

Then this year, Brian Wilson re-recorded, or re-assembled, or re0something’d the entire project. Flowery praise flowed in heaps from the critic-collective: finally the masterpiece as Mr. Wilson and Mr. Parks had intended it, as it would have been had he not had a complete breakdown back in ’67. Some even dared to compare to the unequivocal best album of all time, the more swoon-prone of the lot even going so far as to say SMiLE may in fact best said sergeant and his band.

The album was entirely “rebuilt”, largely by recreating existing bootleg versions of his original tapes (which he lost long ago), with re-recorded vocals. That alone is interesting to me, since it’s then fair to say that had not the criminal bootleggers been so diligent in stealing and preserving every snippet of the original tapes – Mr. Wilson may have not been able to complete this project. That’s another thing altogether though, but I guess we know where I stand on archival music (bootleg or no).

Anyway, the point of this what-was-to-be single-paragraph discussion of SMiLE is simply to say: now I know what all the fuss was about. Listening to this recent release, it’s clear this album is amazing. Re-recorded or not… it’s an outstanding effort, complex and lighthearted. It makes me want to bust out that old bootleg version, and hear it as it would’ve sounded back then – when Brian’s voice was still 24 years old and not all funky-slurry sounding like it is now. But still, as a mind-bendingly time-stretched effort, conceived in the halcyon days of the summer of love, and finally recorded in 2004, it manages to triumph despite the odds. Four paragraphs again where there was to be one… it’s just the topic of music… close to my heart. And if you could only hear “Surf’s Up” from this album… you’d know why. Thanks for listening.

OK, I’m done talking music. Back to the other-kinda-stuff talk.

Tonight I finished up digitizing the prank phone calls for the “box set” project. I have a few more random cassettes to encode, but for the most part it’s done. Now I have to split the 45min-long WAVs into individual tracks… which will be tedious. The participating members of the prank call collective and I hashed out details for the eventual production of the long-planned box set. We’re going all out: pro silkscreened CDs, a real “box” of slick glossy cardboard, professional graphics and production, and a collection of period-piece photos and mementos included in the extensive “liner notes.” We’ll each be contributing to a “background” writeup on the calls and music, so when the thing’s done it’ll look like it came off the shelf at Best Buy (at least, that’s the pipe dream right now). Why, you ask, when we’ll only make perhaps 5 or 10 copies? Because to us, the material is worth of the care. Dumb as it may be, I love those tapes… and have always wanted to give them a proper place in my music collection.

Also tonight, I watched bits and pieces of Control Room, a documentary that follows the Al Jazeera and their coverage of the war in Iraq. The main point of the film is to focus on the perception of the war, and the differences in the way different media organizations report things that ultimately effect that perception. From what I saw (I was running back and forth to the back room flipping cassettes over and building a new MAME hard drive for the Pac Man cabinet upgrade project, the latter being something I don’t think I’ve mentioned here yet), the movie looked really interesting. Anyway, a buddy of mine had it at work today so I borrowed it for the 30min it took to rip and burn a copy. Eventually I’ll sit down and watch the whole thing, but definitely check it out if you’re interested in the whole western/eastern viewpoint gig.

Tonight is the Dears show downtown. Glad to see Sacramento pulling a few more good shows of late, I like it a lot better than driving to the city. The last time the Dears were in town, we caught them at a very small club where the audience turnout was absolutely pathetic. A generous estimate would put the entire crowd at about 30 people… so we figured that would be the Dears’ last visit to Sac. For whatever reasons, they are trying their luck again. Hopefully the turnout will be better tonight (Friday), and hopefully they’ll play some stuff of their forthcoming new album (which hasn’t leaked yet… ahem… mp3 pirates… I’m waiting).

Wow, lotta writing today… and you know it’s gonna be a good entry when the 1st sentence is, “The problem with burritos is…” I think it’s time to hit the sack though, 11:30pm here and I’m pretty much hooked on this read-a-few-chapters before bed plan.

Dave out.

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pickin’ and grinnin’

Arms on fire, firearms, get it?
Not a particularly exciting day in Florida, but a good evening spent with friends. Used this day to play “catch up” on all the lost sleep. Rolled out of bed around 10:30am and got ready for the day by having a healthy slice of angel food cake and a diet coke. Dang, no wonder I’m fat.

The main order of the day involved heading over to the local mall to pick up some stuff to wear at this week’s wedding. I needed a white shirt, Sharaun needed some thing she kept calling a “top,” which I think means “shirt” in dude-speak. I was kind of excited about going to the mall (probably for the first time since 7th grade), because for me it’s like going back to my old place of employment. Two years service as a retail salesman at the local mom ‘n’ pop music store in the mall, the last year or so spent with the pretty meaningless title of “assistant manager.” I gotta admit though, I loved that job. Loved helping people find good music, loved getting to show off my knowledge of music, and loved selling music. Unfortunately, that mom ‘n’ pop store was forced out when the mall went “big,” letting it’s space to only the largest chain stores in efforts to homogenize the retail landscape and increase business. Now it’s a “Scrapbook City” or some such nonsense, with reams of colored paper and rolls of cute stickers. The carpet and walls are still the same though, so it’s fun to go in and walk around and remember.

I remember I used to collect music on a “family tree” kind of plan. I’d hunt down albums because I liked a track, then find out who played on those albums. Then I’d hunt down albums those players made, and so on down the line. The method worked pretty well, but also could get a little obsessive. I’d get to where I wanted to get every piece of recorded tape that an artist or group ever made. Problem is, just because most or some of someone’s work is good, doesn’t mean it all is; in fact, there’s very few acts/people who’s entire canon is good – so that method of obsessive collecting produced its fair share of stinkers. Anyway, I don’t know why I wanted to write about that – or, I guess I kinda do. We were sitting over at Bob’s place tonight, and he was plucking some great tunes on the guitar while we sat and talked. It got me thinking, it’s not so much about the “album” or “bloodline” or whatever, it’s about the song and if it’s good. Screw collecting an artist’s catalog, I just want to hear the good stuff. Man, I’m sorry, I know this relates to nothing and is not interesting.

Been listening to the new M83 each night in the earbuds when I go to bed, excellent album. Moody and at times “lost” or “homesick” sounding. Now, I guess that could be due to the fact that I’m listening to it away from home, so some of that is my own ideas and not something the music is telling me. This and the Earlimart album are great picks for the week, and I’m glad I was able to steal them both and burn them to CD before the trip. Nice and slow and quiet and hushed and feely. Go get both, as both will surely soon turn up as theme music to some Fox or WB teen drama in the near future.

Hung out tonight, as I mentioned, with Bob and his wife. Went out for a nice Italian dinner, eating shrimp and drinking red wine all refined-adult-like. Then retired back to their place for some general chit-chat and the usual stuff. Looked at some beautiful vintage firearms, busted out the guitar, etc.. I know, I’m supposed to be a “liberal,” and thereby be sworn against the evil thundersticks and the death and crime they enable… but I have an inborn attraction to guns – I think it has something to do with the engineering or design… or the fact that they can shoot bullets at things and rip shit up, not sure which. I think it actually has to do with the fact that my grandfather was a great admirer of firearms, and bought my brother and I each .22 rifles at the youngest age our parents would consent to it: 10. I still have that rifle, you think they’ll revoke my Democratic party affiliation? Anyway, the guns came out, the swords came out, and the guitar came out. A’fore too long, I found myself singing along to the chorus of meticulously-played versions of “Ripple,” “Illegal Smile,” “I-Feel-Like-I’m-Fixin’-to-Die-Rag,” and others. Good time, free meal, good company.

I guess that’s all I have to write. I really like the way the pictures from today’s (yesterday’s, when you’re reading this) turned out – I think they convey “vacation” really well. I’m gonna try and post some more pictures this week, after I manage to get some snapshots of a few more interesting things. Look for it.

Dave out.

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on second thought

Self-explanatory.
Thursday night, put-the-trash-out night. Sharaun met up with a gaggle of females for drinks, dinner, and some movie. Thus the dudes associated with the aforementioned gaggle decided to get together and do stuff. The general idea was pizza, beer, and video games at Anthony’s. Being that there were no women around, we were free to order two vegetable-free triple-meat pies with meat-stuffed crusts. Then we swaggered about the house, swilling beer, scratching ourselves and swearing at each other. As part of the week-in-… ahh, whatever, you know the rest:


When I read an article on BoingBoing the other which called DJ Danger Mouse’s Beatles/Jay Z mashup, the Grey Album, “… the most important album of the 21st century (to date)…,” I decided I better break it out and give it a second chance. I mean, why not? My favorite album of all time, ever, is the Beatles’ White Album. I don’t care what you say about it being the least cohesive, or just a collection of solo material, the band already eroding – it’s not only my favorite Fabs effort, I consider it the best album ever made. Then, there’s Jay Z’s Black Album.

Let me say first that despite my snobbish attitude towards music, I am open to styles beyond my indie-rock stable. It just happens that I discount most of the “rap” and “hip hop” on the Top 40 radio today is pure and utter fluff. Superstar producers who zero in on a market-targeted sound that can’t lose, no matter what puppet you put on the mic. You get a huge collection of songs that make you move your feet, and cover the topics that the shopping mall focus groups said they’re most interested in: sex, thugs, money, cars, etc. It sells, and there’s a whole other argument there about whether or not it serves some non-artistic purpose (it does, IMO, but that’s an entirely different discussion).

Picking up as if that last paragraph were non-existent, we’re back to Jay Z’s Black Album. Because I have a slightly down-the-nose attitude towards rap, I probably don’t get exposed to near enough of it to make a real judgment. But if you were to take me task and ask me, out of all the rap albums I have heard, which I considered the best – it would be the Black Album. Don’t get me wrong, the Chronic and Doggystyle will always remind me of hotboxing the Nissan Sentra in 10th grade… but that’s a different kind of “good.” The Black Album is, to me, one of the only rap albums I occasionally listen to out of my own volition. Not because I’m in my wife’s car, or compromising and giving her a break from my falsett0-drenched indie mainstays, but because I actually enjoy it. It’s a good album, and considering I’m not rap’s #1 fan, it’s a great album. Apparently, I’m not the only shoegazer to think so, either.

When I first heard about Danger Mouse’s mashup, I was interested. I downloaded it, and gave it a spin. Despite being impressed with the technical proficiency evident in the resulting mixes, I wasn’t particularly tickled. That was a long time ago, and I had since deleted the album from my “media” folder. Recently though, my interest got stirred up again with the release of the absolutely brilliant video mashup version of DM’s mashup, “Encore.” So, I decided, since these two albums are are actually both albums I respect and enjoy – I should give DM’s work another chance. I once again downloaded the tracks, and once again cued them up for a critical listen.

So, yeah, I probably was a little too critical the first time around. It’s a solid effort. I still respect it more for its engineering than for its musical content – which is basically made up of two things I already know I like. But it’s a really, really good album. The fact that every little hi-hat, hand clap, bass pluck, and guitar riff, every sound at all in fact, was painstakingly extracted from the White Album and reassembled into completely new tunes makes this thing worth a listen. The most important album of the 21st century thus far, that I’m not so sure about. But it is worth a listen. So go check it out, it’s free, so there are no excuses.

Jeez, I wanted to write one paragraph… one single paragraph, about the Grey Album. Look what it turned into, sometimes I guess I get carried away or something. I didn’t want to do a whole entry the subject, but I did and now I don’t want to write anymore. So I’m out for the week. Flying to Florida on Saturday… will try my best to keep up with this thing while I’m there, I usually do pretty well.

Dave. Is. Out.

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slumpin’

You choose the color of Jesus.
I feel like I’ve been in a pretty bad writing funk lately. Looking back, this is the last entry I can remember being proud of when I hit the “publish” button. It’s OK though, things get like this sometimes. I lose motivation. Not just for writing, but for all manner of things. I lose motivation to get work done around the house, lose motivation at work where I should be doing real work, just lose motivation in general. It’s cool though, the slumps tend to be short-lived, and then I’m back in action. Sometimes I need a vacation to “recharge,” and next week’s trip to Florida should be just the thing. Going back to the place I, for some reason, still call “home” always gives me plenty of material to write about. I’m really looking forward to it, Turkey and ham and family and mashed potatoes. Put me on a plane, I’m there.

Got a phone call from an old, old friend the other day. Surprised me to hear from him, although we do occasionally get together for a beer or two when we both happen to be home visiting family in Florida. I’m really bad at “staying in touch,” I don’t call old friends, don’t write, don’t do much at all to “KIT,” as we used to write in yearbooks. So I was surprised to hear from this guy, whom I would call equally as bad at keeping in touch. In high school we were good friends. He was the son of a preacher and I was a bad-kid, it was like an after-school-special. When I found God in my senior year, we at least had something to talk about. Now, it seems we’ve both “lost our faith” to some extent, and surprisingly we agree on most everything. Maybe our common trials put us in a common resultant position or something. Anyway, we chatted about our shaky faith in higher power, in government, and in general. It was a good discussion. He mentioned he’s looking to get out of his current state, being a red one, and move into a blue one like mine. Ahh.. the bennies of living in a rabidly liberal state.

Tonight’s (today’s, whatever) entry needs to be done early, because we’re going to the Blonde Redhead show downtown tonight. My goal is to bring the camera and take some pictures, then post them here on this blog-thing. So I’m ready to go, sitting here in my chinos (what are chinos? I’m calling khaki pants “chinos,” is that right?) and fashionable long-sleeved button-up/down shirt. I look appropriately indie for the evening, I believe. We’ll be dining first at some kinda brewpub with food, y’know the ever-so-popular mix of sit-down restaurant and microbrewery type-thing. We’ll linger sufficiently long at said brewpub, in hopes of missing in entirety the set of an utterly horrible opening act called the Liars. Man, they suck so hard.

Well guess what, turns out I got the opening band wrong, and we missed half a set from an awesome live band Ben and I have seen before – the Helio Sequence. The show was a little underwhelming to me, not that Blonde Redhead didn’t sound good, they just didn’t excite me live. Owell, I did accomplish one thing… which was to take pictures of the evening as my first effort in a “week in pictures” thing I thought of. I’ll take a few snapshots of each evening this week and post them the day after. Most likely won’t be anything exciting, but at least it gives me something to post about. So then, here’s the thumbs from last night’s concert outing.




There ya go then. More to come, even if it’s just snapshots of me sitting on the couch or doing dishes. What a grand experiment. Man, I should go into business. Next they’ll tell me it also functions as a cutting-edge indie music jukebox… and I’ll have been squarely billhooked off my high horse.

Dave is out.

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i got nothing

Turkeys that got killed.
I have the urge to somehow pore through all my past entries and try to compile a “wordcount” for what I’ve written so far. It’s more of a “look what I did” thing than anything useful, I just think it’d be neat data to have. Speaking of poring through old entries, I still need to go play “cleanup” on the entries that had a less-than-perfect transition to WordPress… like the one’s with Chinese characters and whose commas turned into question marks. I shudder to think of the potential new reader being turned away after finding archived entries impossible to understand with all the Chinese and imperative-overuse.

I have nothing to write, and it’s a Friday. I will slap together these two paragraphs and print it. Sorry.

Can you please look at this. Bright Eyes, holding down the #1 and #2 positions on Billboard’s “Hot 100” singles chart. Last week, Usher and Alicia Keys… this week, when the teen collective lifts their heads from their bongs, they will have claimed another indie act. Good job Bright Eyes, too bad the indie creed says I can’t listen to you anymore. Dave out.

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Raining again in sunny California

Mmmm... ice cream...
Seriously. I mean, c’mon. Yeah. Now, I know it may be hard to trust me – because it may seem like I’m gushing about a new album every few days… but for real y’allz. If someone was describing the new Go! Team album to me, saying things like, “Oh, you know, it’s like this sample-happy beatsy 70s/80s semi-disco electro-pop, with old breakdance and rap samples layered over the top,” I’d probably make up my mind without even hearing it. Just doesn’t sound like my bag. For the most part, you can have the Junior Seniors, Avalanches, and other type bands. But for some reason, be it the fact that I really like their name or not, this band is different. It’s not your everyday album that can make me bounce around in my car seat in my best impression of dancing, or pump my fists to the beat. Just to make an honest man of me, check out this track and see if you’re not happy after listening. Then, check out this brassy number and tell me you don’t wanna go plop down the $11 this thing costs. Enough about music, I think.

I’ve been thinking more and more about making a “complete console emulator” that will live permanently in the living room, attached to the TV. It would be a small form-factor PC with USB ports out the front where I could plug in a bunch of different controllers. The machine itself would be dedicated mainly to video game console emulation, and would do the job of an Atari, original 8-bit NES, Sega Genesis, Super Nintendo, Nintendo-64, and GameBoy Advance. I’d also install Dance with Intensity for DDR. Along with this would come the most historically-accurate controllers, USB’d originals, and decent pads for DWI. Anyway, looking at some attractive small form-factor systems, and doing a quick mental cost-assessment, I think I could do the whole project for about $800. Not bad… very tempting in fact.

Raining again in sunny California… has been for a couple days now. Spent the whole morning rushing through my routine thinking I needed to be at work for my Mandarin class – it goes for five hours every Friday. Turns out, it’s not even Friday, and even if it was, the class doesn’t start until 9am. So, that sucked. I do that a lot, y’know. Adding to the list I put down earlier this week: I often don’t know what day of the week it is, and rarely know what the date is. A lot of times I’m just on autopilot… thinking about whatever’s monopolizing my thoughts at the moment, I should try and pay more attention to detail.

I went to the freezer to get an ice cream sandwich, but it was just a box that used to hold ice cream sandwiches. Man, what I way to ruin a craving for an ice cream sandwich. Not wholly unexpected though, living with my wife. Dave out.

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i hate 80s cover bands

1980s, see how I tie it all together visually?
One more weekend down, I say that like it’s a countdown to something, but not really. Spent Saturday shirking my duties in the backyard and watching football. Sunday we woke up early and went down to set up Sharaun’s classroom, and spent the rest of the day working on the porch in the backyard. Erik came over and we eventually found a rhythm and reached a pace that saw us nearly finishing the thing in one day. I’d say it’s about 95% done, and I’m toying with the idea of taking Friday off to cut in the curves. I gotta say, it’s completely exciting to see this, one of the final large-scale projects, coming together. I absolutely can’t wait until it’s done.

Oh guys, at the risk of perpetuating my image as a crotchety old hermit, I’m now going to make fun of a popular social activity with members of my age group. By doing this, I will surely come off even more curmudgeonly and anti-social than I am now perceived to be.

I’m gonna come right out and say it: I hate 80s cover-bands. Yes, I know, these bands continually play to packed houses and provide 110% pure energy and fun; I still hate ’em. In the area here, there are four or five of these outfits that are really popular, and between them all and their non-stop gigging – you’re pretty much guaranteed to be able to see one of them each night in any given weekend. And, because I’m a member of their target audience, I’ve found myself being drug to a couple of these shows. I’m pretty sure all these bands are really the same band, with some master evil plot to play as many shows as possible – drawing huge crowds of Gen-Xers and, without their knowledge, lulling them into old-age. That’s right – it’s the hidden agenda of what I like to call the 80s cover-band “axis of evil.” Bring in the crowds in their late-twenties, mix them with those in their mid-thirties and early-forties, and use the hypnotic uniting power of Jackson 5 and Bon Jovi covers played in Day-Glo outfits and foot-tall afro wigs to “suck the young” out of ’em all. Do not be fooled… read the truth below…

Sometimes these demons will even mix in a refrain or two of some currently popular song, something by Nelly or J-Lo perhaps, in an attempt to fool the borderline-geriatric into thinking they are listening to something that’s actually “hip.” “Hey! I heard my daughter/niece/cousin singing this song last week! I’m totally relevant right now! If they only knew how cool Uncle Dave really is!” Wrong Uncle Dave! You are a victim, unwittingly being led further and further away from pop-culture relevancy by the comealong tunes of the Pied Pipers of oldness. You think you’re cool? You’re having fun, but try to remember yourself ten years ago, then put your current self, at this show, in a fishbowl and let the you of ten years ago look in for a few minutes. You hear your younger self peeing his pants as he laughs uncontrollably at you? Hear he and his friends snickering and pointing as you sip a beer and bob your head to five white guys playing Marcia Griffiths’ “Electric Slide?” Congratulations, you’re arrived – you’re now completely lost. You’re an adult, you can’t relate, the line has been drawn and there’s no going back – you go to 80s cover-band shows.

I know, I know, I’m just not fun at all. If I just try and “get into it,” I’ll really enjoy it. “Get into it,” eh? Know what “getting into it” is? It’s turning off your “young” people! It’s choosing vanilla, it’s dousing yourself in the same cologne your wore in middle school and hanging out with drunk thirty- and forty-year olds making the best of what scraps they have left… clutching at the last thing they remember being fun and cool. It’s succumbing to male-pattern baldness and choosing the familiar and comfortable, it’s the death of your inner-child. It starts with going to 80s shows, and progresses to yelling at kids to stay off your grass and waking up at 5am on Saturday to hit the “early-bird” specials. Think of the long-term repercussions friends, every concert brings you closer to a news-watching, PTA meeting-going, ad-dult. Much like the little gremlin that tried to suck the soul out of a young Drew Barrymore’s nose in Cats Eye, these bands are busy sucking the collective cool out of their fanbase. Be afraid.

And, of course, the follow-up: I know it’s not quite as bad as all that, but, as with everything, it’s much funnier when exaggerated. I’m sure there are some deeper psychological reasons behind my fear and dislike of these shows, but I don’t want to speculate. People don’t understand why I don’t enjoy it, I mean, “everyone else” does! Well, in Germany in the 1940s “everyone” liked Hitler too, did that make him good? (Oh man, it’s official, I’ve turned into my dad. That Hitler comment, that’s 100% my dad, I can even hear him saying it.) Anyway, more than enough on this, I think you get the picture.

Time for bed, Dave out.