Category: tunes

Music. Bands. Songs. Concerts.

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friday in blog-time

Barely awake.Thursday night; which means Friday in blog-time.

We went out for dinner to celebrate Kerry’s birthday, and Sharaun dropped Keaton and I off at the house so I could cover bedtime duty while she joined the others for a little afterparty.  With Keaton in bed, I have the house to myself.

As always, this means some uninterrupted music-and-computer tine.

The iPod fortuitously shuffled up a song that I absolutely adore: “Queen of Hearts” by Gregg Allman, specifically the impeccable live version from 1974’s Gregg Allman Tour record.  If you’ve never heard this song; you simply must.

[audio:02 Queen Of Hearts.mp3]

Stick with it, I know it’s long… but wait until that saxophone comes in.  Is that not passion? Tell me that doesn’t soar.  Because, it does.  It totally does.  Wives, share that one with your husbands… there’s something soulful and wanting about it that I think all men can identify.  Or, I suppose it could just be me…

And… it’s near eleven and I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open.  Goodnight.

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this too shall pass

Slick.Monday again, and it’s always sad to see another weekend go. I’ve been suffering from a semi-permanent yen for non-working days lately, something that hits me every now and again and fades with time (and time off). This too shall pass.

For Father’s Day I did two things I’ve been wanting to do for near a month now: cleaned out and organized the garage, and put the finishing touches on the landscape lighting I installed a couple months ago. You may say those sound like odd things to want for Father’s Day, but having been out of town for three weekends straight it really was what I wanted to do.

So, I put Long John Silver, Baron von Tollbooth and the Chrome Nun, Spitfire, Red Octopus, Blows Against the Empire, Bark, Dragon Fly, and Sunfighter into an “on the go” playlist on the iPod and set to work (props to those who understood the connection between those records without having to look-up the artists).

… is it sacrilege to say that pre-Earth Starship was better than, or at least as good as, Airplane ever was? Anyway…

As the mega-mix of those awesome records washed over me, I hung bikes from rafters, organized the hiking gear shelf, buried low-voltage wiring under mulch, and in general got the lead out of my long-time-wasting duties. I had, at the end of it all, intended to go for a bike ride to get some exercise… but instead I’m sitting here typing about it. In the end, I opted for a half hour or so swinging shirtless in the hammock with Keaton. We listened to more music and enjoyed the evening sunshine. Then before bedtime we all three walked down to the frozen yogurt place and had a little Father’s Day treat to cap the day.

Good stuff.

Saturday we made a pilgrimage down south to see Anthony’s long-lost daughter, who had been studying abroad for the past year. Keaton got to go swimming, eat fruit salad, and play with big cows and baby cows. Sharaun and I carpooled down with Ben and Suzy, and the ride was better than driving (thanks guys). It was fun seeing Anthony’s daughter again, and a personal relief for me, as the father of a girl myself, that, despite having aged a year abroad, she still seems not that far off from the eight year-old she was when we first met her. Here’s hoping Keaton can weather her teens as well.

And, with that… goodnight internetizens.

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not quite like riding a bike

Ouch.Internet!!  Man, long time no talk!  What’s been going on with you?

Tuesday night and I’m tuckered from some surprise post-work wakeboarding.  Now, it’s probably been four years since I last got up on a wakeboard, and back then it took me pretty much a whole season before I was able to do it consistently… so I was a little worried I’d not remember the mechanics of it all.

I did have some issues standing up on my first set of pulls, but did OK the second time around.  I’m still nothing much to watch on the water, but I sure had a great time – and it satisfies the “work out tonight” requirement nicely.

Sorry I didn’t write last night, didn’t get to it until too late and didn’t have much to say.  Tonight tho, let’s talk about stuff.

Sharaun, who doesn’t read much (not that I’m much better with my fickle on-and-off appetite for books), has apparently tuned into the latest female-groupthink brainwaves and has been addicted to reading those Twilight books.  I know, making fun of some subconscious ladies-only mental connection isn’t really fair; the books surely must be entertaining for so many to enjoy them, it’s just fun to point out that they are totally chick books.

Anyway, her newfound interest in vampires and teenage lust works well for me as she graciously allows me to listen to music (at a reasonable volume) as she reads.  Nice to get some non-TV tunes during the normal TV’s-always-on evening hours.  TV is way overrated, and I’ll take some tunes anytime over even my favorite shows.  Tonight I got to listen to the whole (A+B-side) of Jethro Tull’s long-winded but excellent prog masterpeice, Thick As A Brick.  Not often you can sit through that.  Go vampires.

Oh man I’m falling asleep sitting up.  Goodnight friends.

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rainwalking

Driplets.Going on Wednesday here in Oregon (I write these the night before I post them, for those who either don’t know or have never been here before).  How you guys doin’?

Despite my best efforts to dodge it, I was sucked into a “working dinner” after our all-day meeting today.  Dragged, kicking and screaming, to a nice seafood place down on the docks, set about fifty feet out into the flow of the Columbia river.

I walked the dock in the bright sunshine, had a couple beers did some priceless networking, and had some great local seafood.  So, even though I really wanted to head home and hang with Sharaun and Keaton and Mom and Dad instead… I think it worked out OK, everything considered.

Today I took public transit to work.  I’ve written before about how I enjoy riding the public transportation here in Oregon; they have such a well-run network of light-rail, buses, and trains, and the whole process is so easy and cheap.  Makes a body feel all “green” just staying off the road, and affords one some time to listen to tunes and people-watch to boot.

This morning, my route included a short train ride and then a transfer to a bus before a brief walk to my final destination.  As I left the bus, the skies were grey and, despite the sun and blue skies we’ve had ever since getting here, the clouds opened up for a few scant moments and dropped a light rain on me as I walked.  For a moment I paused under a leafy tree to escape the drops, but soon realized it wasn’t much shelter at all… and, after all, I had a schedule to keep.

So, here I was: Dressed to the nines with intent to impress, walking along the side of a busy highway onramp (no sidewalk, mind you, so I was in the shoulder), laptop slung over my shoulder and the rain making dark blotches on my new brown leather shoes even as it slicked my hair.  In the cans, one of my favorite songs of all time shuffled up: Buffalo Springfield’s Hung Upside Down.  A Stills track from their 1967 sophomore effort, it just fit the early-morning rain-walk moment so well.

For me, the song conjures up precious memories of middle school, and those recalled emotions fit perfect with the odd sense of solitude-amongst-busyness that walking alone amidst heavy morning traffic can give a guy.

There then; near an entire entry about walking down the road in the rain.  Just kinda happened.  I like it when it just kinda happens.  Goodnight.

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some such nonsense

Batch.Keaton and I are alone tonight.

Sharaun abandoned us for a New Kids on the Block concert somewhere down south (uh-huh, another one).  She carpooled with some other New Kids freaks she met on the internet.  Did you know they have a whole social-networking site just for New Kids fans?  They do.

Actually, speaking of the New Kids… I have to admit that I’m impressed with their marketing.

First, they know their former tween and teen fans are now in their thirties, and have recognized they have disposable cash they are only too happy to burn to steal away from their kids and families and relive those boyband crushes, if just for a night (or… an endless string of nights, perhaps).

Next, they’ve really taken advantage of modern “marketing 2.0.”  Seriously, I would not give these guys credit if it weren’t due.  However, they use the internet to it’s maximum, they use text and voice messaging to cellphones, they use social networking – all these things to whip a fanbase into an excited cash-burning frenzy.  And, it works… it totally works.

Eh, but they still piss me off.  At least they make Sharaun happy.  I got this text from her around 10:30pm: “I touched Joe’s hand!  It gets better and better.”  Sheesh.

Anyway, with Keaton and I on our own for the evening I decided I’d take her on a “date” to one of her favorite places for dinner.  There’s a Ruby Tuesday so close to our house you can hit it with rocks if you aim right (and don’t throw like a girl, as I do).  Around 6pm we walked down there together, holding hands as we crossed the two streets on the way.  I had a wonderful time, and judging by the macaroni and cheese in her blonde hair, she seemed to enjoy it too.  Almost makes $20 for a salad and small bowl of macaroni and cheese seem tolerable.  Almost.

Goodnight guys, I’m not waiting up for Sharaun… they are gonna hang out after the show in hopes of meeting up with the “band” and going for waffles, or some such nonsense.

Love and kisses.

– Postscript –

Sharaun walked in the door and fell into bed about thirty minutes before I left for the gym this morning.  I start my workout at 6am sharp.

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sharaun can win anything

Winner winner.Tuesday and, after a hard-fought Monday at work spent trying to catch up from the two days missed last week, I plan to put in another blitz for 5pm (or 6pm… or 6:30pm… or 7pm).

I’ve mentioned before on the ol’ bloggy-blog-blog about my wife’s luck when it comes to radio call-in contests.  Over the years, she’s managed to win just about whatever she sets her mind on winning (and not just as a stay-at-home mom either, her streak extends well back to her pre-Keaton working days).

At various times she’s won an Xbox, an iPod, shopping sprees, and too many concert tickets to list.  I’ve also mentioned before her predilection (deviance?) for “teenie bopper” music.  Mmmm, yes… that’s right.  Despite her clear advancement into her thirties, she’s remained a staunch Top 40 listener, and holds in high regard some of the more “bubblegum” manufactured pop artists of the current week.  It’s OK, I’ve come to terms with this… sorta.

I’ll assume you’ve read the two linked blogs above, and just start with my homecoming from work today: It’s 6:45pm and I walk through the door.

“I don’t have much time,” Sharaun says, “I’m sorry.  You’re dinner is on the table and there’s a salad made for you in the fridge.”  Now, I’m pretty frazzled from a busy day, but I’m also as hungry as a post-hibernation bear and decide a waiting dinner is pretty nice for having just crossed the threshold.  I give her a quick kiss and “hello” and sit down to eat.

A few bites in, I turn to her, she’s now sitting at the computer.  “What are you doing, anyway?,” I ask around bites of homemade flatbread pizza (she can make it where it’s so low calorie I almost burn it off entirely just chewing and digesting). “I’m waiting to buy New Kids on the Block 5-star tickets,” she replies.  I sigh silently to myself.  No, I don’t “condone” the spending of hundreds of dollars on the New Kids on the Block, but then again, my “non-condoning” means little when I deliver it with a “but go ahead and do it if your conscience can stand it” smile.  Anyway, God knows what I’ve wasted hundreds of dollars on in the past…

But really, as an aside, these guys have to fade back into obscurity soon… I can’t continue to finance their reunion; it has to end.  I swear, the day they re-break-up I’ll celebrate our savings as fervently as Sharaun did they day they reunited.  Hurry up guys, the nostalgia can only last as long as us husbands feel charitable.

As she sits there, frantically putting in her credit card info after clicking what I can only assume was a button marked: Buy Insanely Overpriced Tickets Now!, she’s also got the radio on in the living room.  See, not only do the New Kids tickets go on sale at 7pm, the radio is giving away tickets to the Britney Spears show this weekend.  In fact, the radio has been giving away tickets to the Britney Spears show several times a day for the past couple days, and Sharaun’s been trying to win them now for about two days.

The contest goes like this: The radio plays itty-bitty snippets of Britney Spears songs all munged together, in some seamless mess of song pieces, and then gives away tickets to caller 107 provided they can name all the tunes correctly.  Earlier last week she asked me to show her how to record things on her iPhone, so she could capture the song snippets for later analysis.  Yes, I showed her.  Then, as the days wore on and she didn’t win, the radio amped up the contest by reversing some of the songs in the mangled mashup.  When this happened, Sharaun asked me if there was any “nerd” way to figure out what the backwards songs are. (Not sure why she came to me for the nerd-consult, actually.)

Since I have some experience with things-backward, I replied in the affirmative: “Sure, I can reverse the recording for you.”  And so she mailed me an AIFF file at work, I flipped the audio and mailed it back, and she set about decoding.  Around 3pm she IM’d me to exclaim she was 99% sure she’d figured out the tracks.  Understandably, I shared her elation and dropped all my important work-related business to jump up and down in my cube and shriek with her over the phone for a bit (this is sarcasm, for those wondering).  Sigh… I work in a cube while my wife deciphers Britney Spears songs to win radio contests…

Anyway, it’s 7pm and the radio says it’s time to win Britney tickets.  I hear the quick garble of drum-machine thick songs come from the living room, and ask Sharaun, who is quite preoccupied with buying her New Kids tickets, if I should call for her.  Of course I should.  Except, I’m not really into it… I’m eating my flatbread pizza and trying to get Keaton to eat her dinner and just overall not caring.  About ten calls into it I realize I’ve fat-fingered the number she told me and I’ve been calling the wrong place.  Frustrated, and noting she’s now apparently done celebrating her New Kids cash-flush, I hand her her phone.  She asks for mine as well, and she sets about dialing the station in turns from each.

And yes, you know she won.  She always wins.

[audio:sharaunwins.mp3]
Listen to Sharaun win right here.

Thanks Erik for the text: “The radio says you’re a nerd.”  Yes, that was Keaton you can hear in the background shouting, “Are you talking to Gracie’s mommy?!  Are you talking to Gracie’s mommy?!”  Gracie is a good friend of Keaton, her mommy, Michelle, is who Sharaun is sharing her radio-spoils with – hence the, “Michelle we got it!” comment.

I just thought it was a fun story, and I had the audio to make it all media-rich.  Deal with it.

Goodnight.

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work can smell happiness & freedom

Sniffa-sniffa.Tuesday again.

Packed my gym gear off to work with me this morning; changed in the handicapped stall at work around 4:15pm and was on the road by 4:30pm.  Plans were foiled by a work-related call from Texas.  I was the dummy standing outside the gym on his bluetooth talking “business.”  Didn’t get sweating until after five anyway.  Moral of the story: You can never really leave work early; work will hunt you down; work can smell happiness and freedom, and work hates them both.

Recently, through the magic of the internet – I was turned on to a super obscure Southern bluesman named Abner Jay. With no allmusic.com biography, no Wikipedia entry, and scant information available online – he’s something of a mystery. Let me tell you, this stuff is amazing. Most of his recordings are long out of print, owed mostly to the fact that he released them on his own record label (Brandie Records, after his wife) and sold them at his live shows.

A one man band whose instruments were the dried bones of various animals (and, on record, a foot-pedal bass drum and hi-hat) and a long-neck banjo passed-down from his grandfather – his unconventional blues are a mix of storytelling and commentary, all heavily steeped in the slave/field language of the old South (so heavily one must assume it’s partly affected for show). The music is simple, and Jay’s voice is as deep and black as any Looney Toons caricature you saw as a child (before that stuff was deemed unfit for TV).

With songs about cocaine, depression, and sex – this stuff is simply fascinating. Had I known about Mr. Jay’s music back in college, surely his tune “The College Crowd” would have been one of my party-playlist musts.  He sings: “The college crowd. The college crowd. They study hard, all week long; sometimes there’s hardly time to eat or sleep. But come weekends, they put their books away; some sittin’ on the floor some get carried away. Some get as a high as a Georgia pine, some get as high as a cloud. This is the college crowd. The college crowd. The college crowd.”

And although his albums are long out of print (for ordinary folk, that is), some Swedish label put together a best-of recently from which you can get a good feel for his style. Stream it in full here. Oh, and there IS more info about the man out there if you’re piqued – start here for some history.

‘Nite-nite internet friends.  See you tomorrow.