here goes two-thousand and eight


Hey readers, sounds familiar is happy to welcome you to the Year of Our Lord two-thousand and eight. Rang in the year with friends at bang-up of a New Year’s fête, where I was able to have a grand time despite being the responsible non-drinking parent. And now I’m once again dreading a return to work… It’s gonna be a short one tonight, as I don’t have much to write and don’t much feel like writing anyway.

We went to dinner at our neighbor’s tonight. Filipino, they set a table that could feed a small village. (Not that that’s somehow indicative of the culture or anything, I just wanted to state the two pieces of information in one sentence.) All the major meat groups had representation: pork, turkey, beef, chicken; the vegetables and fruits were out in force; and there were multiple sweet finishes. After dinner, the spirits were brought out and I had a nice tall glass of mixed coconut, jackfruit, apple juice, and Filipino rum. It was a great couple hours of talking, and Keaton had fun playing around with their daughter, who’s just a bit younger. We had a good time and left with full bellies. Four plus years in the house and we’re just now getting to know our neighbors; where are the Leave It To Beaver block parties of the 1950s?

Oh man, the Kill Bill duet is on right now, I’d forgotten just how amazing these movies are… I’m totally gonna go watch them instead of stupid blogging.

Oh, and before going, I know I’ve been somewhat delinquent on updating Keaton’s photos page, so I’ll try and get some of the Christmas in Florida stuff up early this week, and maybe a “catch up” gallery to cover the various things I missed near the sloppily-covered end of 2007. Stick with me, I’ll make it worth it if I can.

Goodnight.

the very air i breathe is saturated


As Christmas vacation begins to draw to a close, the tightening noose of coming work is beginning to chafe against my neck.

The e-mails are still trickling into the BlackBerry, each little “tinkle” sound reminding me that I can never really get that far physically removed from a job that happens primarily in cyberspace. Unseen responsibility surrounds me, floating around invisible right in front of me, waves and signals buzzing silently around my head, needing only to be read and decoded to transform them into questions I need to answer and things I need to do. It’s sad, in a way, that the very air I breathe is saturated with invisible bits and bytes that represent the work I have to do. Let’s not think about it, OK?

We had a brief scare yesterday, ending up in the emergency room with Keaton. As I mentioned in my last blog, she’s been running a fever now for a couple days, and it’s been sitting around 101° for most of the time. After Sharaun put her down for her nap yesterday, she went out shopping. And, since Keaton wasn’t feeling well and likely needed sleep, I was happy that she chose to take a longer-than-usual nap, not to mention it gave me a little time to rest-off the pukes-‘n’-poops I’d been dealing with myself. When she finally did wake up, I got her some Tylenol-doped juice and sat down with her while she drank it. As she was finishing up her sippy, Sharaun got home and joined us on the couch.

Just then, she began to shiver, which I took to mean she was breaking her fever. As Sharaun took her from me, however, she began to shiver more, and we noticed her lips looked a little blueish. Freaking out a bit, Sharaun took her out to ask her mom if she could see the blue as well, and I jumped online to search for “baby blue lips fever” on Google. The modern sage that is Google said that if, during a fever, a baby’s lips and/or fingernail beds turn blue, you should seek emergency care immediately. Meanwhile, Sharaun and her mom had reached the same conclusion, as Keaton was still shaking, not speaking at all, and her lips (and finger/toenails) were now an even scarier shade of blue-purple. They were already strapping her into her carseat as I rushed inside to grab my wallet, sling a very hastily put together diaper bag over my shoulder, and slip on some flip-flops.

With the hospital literally just up the road, we were there in under a minute. But even by then, she had regained nearly all her color and was starting to talk normally. We sat in the emergency room for about twenty minutes, every passing minute of which I became more convinced that she was now fine, and then were ushered in to see the triage nurse. After taking her vitals, she pronounced Keaton A-OK, and asked if we’d still like to be seen. Faced with the prospect of spending four hours in the hospital, or going home and keeping an eye on her ourselves, we chose the latter and packed back into the car. And, although she continued to run a fever the rest of the day, we had no more blue-lipped scares, and she already seems much more “herself” today.

Frightening, and odd, but I guess ultimately nothing.

Well then, until later, take care peoples.

in the bathroom


Hey there post-Christmas America. Your trees down yet? Ya bust out the ladder and take the lights off the house already? Still scraping the last of the leftovers from the corners of you casserole dishes? Either way, I hope you had a good holiday. Down here in sunny Florida, we sure did. Oh, and this year Santa came with some extra special gifts…

Christmas came with an extra bonus this year: a vicious stomach bug that had me alternately sitting on or kneeling before the john all day yesterday. It was ugly, and tiring, and I didn’t answer the phone or do anything much aside from trying to sleep through the twisty flip-flopping of my beleaguered bowels. I woke up this morning feeling much better, but still with a rumbly middle… which I attribute more now to not eating anything yesterday than the bug. So, I decided to jump right back into things and am currently pre-heating the oven for a Totino’s pizza. For some reason, my stomach was craving it. I figure, if I can keep that down, I’m healed.

It’s a gorgeous day here, the sun is out and shining, and it’s not too warm to go outside and enjoy it. The original plan was to go visit my Uncle Tom, but we decided to give that another day so I wouldn’t pass along this lovely stomach-thing. Since I am feeling better, we decided we’d take Keaton down to the park close by, but now she’s acting all funny and is running a fever herself… so it seems like we’ll be housebound instead. That’s OK, I suppose I do enough complaining about our Florida trips being nothing but run-here-run-there that I should be thankful for some downtime on the homefront. I know it’s selfish to enjoy how cuddly Keaton gets when she’s not feeling well, but I just can’t help but love her crawling up into my lap and snuggling for an hour. Bad dad.

Well, I’m off. So far, the pizza is staying put… and that’s a good sign.

merry merry christmas y’all!


Merry merry Christmas y’all!

It’s Christmas Eve in Florida as I write, and the weather is wonderfully warm and just humid enough to make you skin feel tacky and soft. I love it. Today, Sharaun went Christmas Eve shopping, doing her part to clogging the retail arteries along with the throng of other last-minute folks. She enjoys the “rush,” she says. And, since I’d always rather sit at home and enjoy some vacation, that’s just what I did.

Sharaun’s folks got Keaton a little tricycle that has an extension-boom thing on the back you can push her with. She feels like she’s riding the bike while you push from behind, and she loves it. We took a “ride” down to the river and back, and then re-did the route on-foot since she wanted to stay outside. After that she sat with dad out on the back porch (what you Yankees call a “Florida room,” a semi-weather-proofed screened-in room) and colored in her Sesame Street coloring book while I surfed the internet. It was a good Christmas Eve.

And now, Keaton’s curled up in her Pack-‘n’-Play, waiting to hear reindeer on the roof, and we’re all sitting around watching TV like a good American family. I anticipate a fairly lowkey Christmas this year, Sharaun and I have already each exchanged our gifts-majeure, and what will be under the tree tomorrow morning (today, as you read this) is mostly smaller afterthoughts. As such, I plan to enjoy watching others open their gifts more than looking forward to more loot of my own.

I’m actually looking forward to a nice day with Sharaun’s family, and am in no hurry to get back to California.

Well now, having said nothing yet, I better go. See, as is with most Christmases lately, the (totally legal) music sites I frequent are doing their holiday season “free download” blitzes – so I’m wracking my brain to decide what I need that I don’t have, and am keeping the internet connection saturated. So, I’m off get that new Grateful Dead show.

Goodnight people, and I hope Santa brings you everything you were after. Merry Christmas.

best of 2007


Man, this year really went fast, didn’t it? Seems like I’ve been saying that every year since I was about twenty, but it just seems like it doesn’t take as much time as it used to get around the sun.

I’m a year older, a year smarter, and have heard a year’s more music. And, because 1) I couldn’t think of anything to write tonight, and 2) I had the 2007 “best of” list already completed, you’re getting it today instead of Friday. Anyway, a Thursday post gets more exposure than a Friday one, after all. So, without further ado, I present my top thirteen (yes, thirteen) albums of 2007. Check it out:

13. The National – Boxer

‎‎Yes, people went crazy over Boxer. There’s good reason for it, as it’s a great album, to be sure; but it just wasn’t the album for me that it was for everyone else. I enjoy its lyricism, its somber fragility, and I even enjoyed seeing The National play it out in Orlando earlier this year. It’s an important album, and I do truly enjoy it, it was just always flying just below my radar and didn’t chart. Don’t let that turn you off.

Listen to The National at the Hype Machine.

12. Los Campesinos – Sticking Fingers Into Sockets EP

OK, so this might have crowned higher on the list were it a true “full length” album. I don’t know why I use that yardstick as a criteria, but I do. EPs don’t cut it. That being said, this is one solid lo-fi bedroom-produced party record. It’s the kind of music where you envision the band actually enjoying themselves while they make it, broad grins on everyone’s faces as the plod at the bass, pluck the guitar, or beat on the drums. Fun stuff, great for energizing a room or car-full of people, just a little lacking on the bottom-end. We’ll see if their forthcoming debut full-length LP can carry the weight.

Listen to Los Campesinos at the Hype Machine.

11. Panda Bear – Person Pitch

OK, go ahead. Heave the taunts of “frontrunner!,” “sunshine patriot!, “fairweather fan!,” whatever you’d like. I’ll admit that I just didn’t get this album at first. I even devoted an entire entry in this very lexiconical-compendium to the fact that the album just didn’t “work” for me. But, I never gave up. People kept pissing their pants about it, so I kept giving it a shot. And then, something happened. I listened to Person Pitch completely alone, in the dark.

I don’t tend to get a whole lot of “alone time.” I go to work, I go home, I enjoy my “together time” with my wife and daughter and friends. Sometimes, in between all the together time, I get a little piece of time to call my own. This year, I can recall a time when I was walking on the beach, not alone in truth, but alone enough for my noise-canceling headphones and this album cranked loud enough to make it seem blissfully so. I walked along listening to “Take Pills,” watching the sunlight glint off the water as it capped and frothed while forming swells. And I thought, for a minute, how cool it would be if it wasn’t glimmers of reflected sunlight at all, but thousands of little underwater people instead, blinking their tiny underwater flashlights or flashing the flashbulbs on their tiny underwater cameras.

Person Pitch was made for these snatches of “me time.” This is not an album you’d want to socialize too, unless you’re getting together with a bunch of your buddies at the opium den. This album is for your ears, and your ears only. Do them a favor and play it while you hide in a dark closet, removed from all other human interaction.

Listen to Panda Bear at the Hype Machine.

10. Caribou – Andorra

Andorra sat on my digital shelf for months after I’d acquired it, relatively unlistened-to and unloved. Then, a raving note from the brother of a friend persuaded me to pay it a little more attention. Giving it its first real evaluative spin in the car one morning on the way to work, the percussive-drive psychedelia of “Melody Day” as an album-opener cut through the post-sun fog grey and spoke right to my then-perked ears. Fitting right in the psych-pop theme I seem to have going on with 2007’s best-of, Caribou deliver a rollicking set of string-accompanied, pedal-slurred, falsetto-drenched, psychedelic goodness. What’s more, with just enough electronic bric-a-brac thrown in to modernize their revived-60s sound, Andorra comes of like a well-done reincarnation that post Summer Of Love sizzle that infused 1968. Recommended as a summer album, but would go well with winter drear I suppose. Get it either way, you won’t regret it.

Listen to Caribou at the Hype Machine.

9. BC Camplight – Blink Of A Nihilist

Whoa. A sleeper. I’m not sure I’ve ever even mentioned this album on the blog before now, and that’s a shame. BC Camplight is one dude, his music sounds a little like Ben Folds at times, or sometimes the Beach Boys maybe. I got deep into this album around the end of May, and it fit well with that summer mood. I remember playing it while we shared a meal with friends on the porch outside, having to go inside to skip over the too-oddball “I’ve Got A Bad Cold” so as not to frighten away our guests. But, for an album made by a mentally-unstable one-man-band, it’s got too many moment of pure pop bliss to pass over in the top ten. Go check it out.

Listen to BC Camplight at the Hype Machine.

8. Animal Collective – Strawberry Jam

Yes. I admit it. This album is good. Quite good.

Once again, I am forced to eat my words. Sometimes, when I’m grooving to this album, cranked up to insane volumes, I wonder, “Do I really like this?” If you’ve been reading here for a while, you’ll likely be familiar with my issue here. Did I just follow the other lemmings off the Animal Collective cliff? What happened between this entry and this list?! Well, for both Panda Bear and this record, I have to believe that I had some sort of awakening. Have to believe this, see, because, otherwise, I’m just a no-good poseur… and, I don’t want to be a no-good poseur.

But, you know what? The more I listened to this album, the more I realized how good it is. Yes, it’s different than what normally draws my ears, but that’s a good thing. It’s all “tingly” and full of seemingly misplaces warbles, bleeps, and unidentifiable noises – but it really pulls together into a nice bouncy pop record. You can actually bob you hear to the rhythm, scream along with the vocals, enjoy yourself. So, if you’re old like me, and perhaps set in your ways, I urge you to get this album and give it a fair chance. It’s good, I promise, despite what you think on your first, or second, or Nth listen… you’ll get it eventually.

In closing. Yes. I admit it. This album is good. Quite good.

And besides, in some small way, actually liking it (I do, right?) gives me renewed faith in both my youth and my golden-ear. So, there’s that too…

Listen to Animal Collective at the Hype Machine.

7. The Most Serene Republic – Population

So. Much. Sound.

The Most Serene Republic has released two albums before Population, and each one has ended up on my year-end lists. So, in keeping with tradition (not my tradition of ranking them highly, rather their tradition of making outstanding music), here they are again. The Most Serene Republic’s music is like tightly controlled cacophony, melodies forced more by a tidal wave of sound rather than a single instrument. The busyness suits me well, but I know it tends to confuse and overwhelm some folks, which is why I think this band may often get ignored on a many otherwise respectable year-end lists. It is indeed awash in musical goings-on, but the tunes are brilliant, the themes are grand, the choirlike harmonies ring, and the horns are oh-so shiny and brass. Don’t let that limpwristed sentence fool you, either, this is rock record… for sure. Anyway, go get it… spend a few hours mentally unknotting the dense layers, you’ll be smarter and happier for it.

Listen to The Most Serene Republic at the Hype Machine.

6. Arcade Fire – Neon Bible

Back when I put Neon Bible on my half-best-of list, I wrote “This isn’t Funeral – it’s Neon Bible… it just sure ain’t Funeral.” Then, I wondered if perhaps I’d ruined the album by over-anticipating it. By dissecting each individual track as they slowly leaked one-by-one onto the web. I had. I’d ruined it. But, turns out, in retrospect, it was just a less-good album than the Fire’s superstellar untouchable debut. I won’t lie, I’ll admit that I thought Arcade Fire might be some amazing can-never-do-wrong outfit who’d surpass even the greatness that was Funeral on their second time out, I think a lot of people did. Didn’t happen. But, don’t let that dissuade you from this record. It’s still good. Good enough to sit in the top ten (for me, at least). It’s just not Funeral II.

Listen to The Arcade Fire at the Hype Machine.

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. 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.

2. Radiohead – In Rainbows

It’s hard for me to write objectively about Radiohead. I have such an admiration for the band, and I bucket them in that “untouchable” category where an artist can do no wrong. Sure, they’ve failed me to one degree or another over the years, but looking at it from an entire-catalog perspective, the percentage of tracks rated as “amazing” would certainly be unprecedentedly high – up there with something like early 70s Yes; unstoppable, unwavering, consistently brilliant and ahead of their time. In fact, I daresay that, in my opinion, Radiohead are the Beatles of our time – they are just that good. So, having laid out my everything-they-touch-turns-gold case, I’ll now try to convince you that this is an unbiased and deserving second-place finish.

Really though, when news broke on the ‘net that Radiohead were about to release what fans called “LP7” online, and that I could name my own price for it, and that it was coming out in ten days… it really threw me for a loop. I can remember putting on my headphones as I lay down for bed the night it was released, anxious to hear this new piece of work. Didn’t take but a few bars of “Nude” to make me realize that Thom and crew had done it again. In Rainbows is 100% Radiohead… and 100% deserving of the #2 spot on 2007’s list.

You have to have this album. When, after watching Behind the Music, the ‘00s on VH4 one day in 2024, your kids will want to know, “Dad (or Mom), did you used to like Radiohead? VH4 said they were ‘vanguards’ of your generation. Dad (or Mom), what’s a ‘vanguard?’”

The battle for #1 went the full ten rounds this year, but, in the end, the next album won out by narrow decision… Vegas oddsmakers still contest the controversial judgment. But there it is.

Listen to Radiohead at the Hype Machine.

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

Hissing Fauna had to win; nothing else could. Nothing else released this year tells a story like this record does. Start to finish, you’re in it song-for-song.

This music makes me want to be something completely different than I am. Someone completely different, even. I hear the plodding rhythm of “The Past Is A Grotesque Animal” and I want to be this guy: floating through Scandinavia on the verge of breakdown, experimenting with drugs and sex, trying to figure out God and love and women. Timeless themes of good music, archetypal rock and roll struggles set to the bounciest glampop/rock that’s been put on wax in recent memory. I sometimes think, if I can just turn it up loud enough, it’ll somehow mix with the resultant blood from my ears and burrow into my head, where it can be my memories, where I can be the story. The brilliant neurosis of this lovesick nomad could be mine, could be me. I could’ve been there falling in love with Meg, flirting with Gods, battling for control of my own personality. It’s an inspired album, a story to get swept away in.

Get it. Bounce to the beats, but listen to the words too. You won’t be sorry.

Listen to Of Montreal at the Hype Machine.

Well, that’s it my friends. Another year gone and another year-end list done. This year, I made iPod playlists for all my past years lists, just to see how well my picks have weathered. I gotta say, not bad.

Hope you enjoyed it. Until next year’s list, keep listening. Goodnight.

been busy


Been busy. Been really busy.

Play with Keaton. Write a blog. Work. Listen to that new album. Play with Keaton. Kiss Sharaun. Write another blog. Work a little on my screenplay. Play with Keaton. Mail some packages. Do some PowerPoint (work). Feed the cat. Take a shower. Pack a suitcase. Do some laundry. Refill prescriptions. Play with Keaton. Kiss Sharaun. Write another blog.

Been busy.

Monday was a rainy day in sunny California. A cold, grey, rainy day that started sometime in the night when the sound of it in the drainpipe woke me up. Having just the day before turned reluctantly turned on the automatic drip system to the wheat for want of precipitation, I actually hauled myself out of bed in the middle of the night and went into the garage to turn it right back off as the drop drummed on the roof – high-stepping across the concrete garage floor in bare feet like it was a frozen lake. The wheat project, I’m afraid to report, seems to have stalled significantly (another reason why I turned on the irrigation, however briefly). The wheat sprouted, looked to be taking off, and then stalled at about a foot high, where it’s been now for over a month. I’m not too familiar with the growing cycle of winter wheat, but I doubt there’s a massive stalling period at a foot… Who knows what’ll happen there, guess I’ll have to wait and see.

The wooden bar in our closet fell off its little holders the other day, sending unknown pounds of clothing to the ground in crumpled lumps. Ironically, everything’s still on the hangers, snug on the rod, which know lays askew, pointed at the sky through a bunch of hangers stuck in the pile of clothes on the ground. Sharaun said it made a loud noise when it happened, scared her. I was out of town, so I don’t know. I do know that I was here all weekend, and even took Monday off, and I didn’t touch the massive heap that’s spilling out the opened door into our bedroom hallway. I kept telling myself that, while Keaton napped one day, I’d go in there and clean it all up, re-hang the bar, and have it back to normal for when Sharaun got home. But, I never did. As much as I bug Sharaun for not getting “enough done” during the days when I’m at work, I kinda realize how hard it is to be motivated to do work during the short few hours where you can actually get some rest. Empathy… I know thee.

Well, I’m off. On the plus side, I managed to finish off my year-end “best albums” list in addition to this entry tonight, and now all I have to do is format it up and set it to magically auto-publish at midnight Friday. I know the interweb is just wet with anticipation. Goodnight.

pardon the disappearance


Sorry folks, had a traveling week at work. Late nights and busy days make for bad blogging conditions. Anyway, last week is so last week. The real story here is the weekend. A weekend where I, your average American everydad, was left in charge of the baby all by myself. Yeah, that’s right. What’s more, I’m happy to report that, although it is Sunday, the third day of my four-day single-parent trails, Keaton’s managed to retain all her appendages, her original hair color, and her well-fed, robusto plumpness. In fact, I’ve really been enjoying my daddy-daughter time. I like feeling more solely responsible, it’s kind of empowering. Who knew I could nurture? Maybe I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, I suppose she could still end up down a well or something tomorrow. I better stay on my game.

Anyway, let’s get to this thing. It’s mostly about music today (well, the baby, too), and I’ll likely close out this week the same way, as I’m just about done with my “best albums” list for 2007 and should be ready to post it by Friday.

Today, while Keaton slept, the Sufjan’s song, “Casimir Pulaski Day” shuffled up on the iPod. I’ve long been in love with the song, and it effected me no less today than it ever does. Sure, I couldn’t listen to it with “my boys” in the car on the way to the bar after paintball or anything, but I still love it to death. Such an un-formulaic “sad song, the narrator laying out his heartbreaking case for being angry with God. Sufjan seems to alternate between extreme economy and verbosity with the words he uses to tell his stories, and this is one of the more straight-forward cases (hit up “Flint (For the Unemployed and Underpaid)” as an example of the former). Anyway, I don’t want to ruin it, but I do want you to listen to it. OK? Can you do that for me? Click here and tell me if it makes you want to cry (manly) tears the way it does me.

Way back in the day, before Keaton was born, I wrote an entry dedicated to what I had chosen to be her “first song.” Those who know me know that I tend to mark events, milestones, and the passage of time with musical memories (here are one, two, three, and four examples – and that was only from memory). From the minute I chose it, I knew her “first song” was the right one. The Beatles’ track (which is really more of a McCartney track) “I Will” is a simple, heartfelt, and soothing song. True to my idea, it was the first thing she heard on the way home from the hospital, I think we go through it twice in those few short minutes.

Now, every time I put her down, be it for a nap or at bedtime, I sing it to her as a lullaby. The brevity of it works well for this, as I can usually get through the pre-bedtime diaper change in right about the same time it takes to sing the thing through. The lyrics go like this:

Who knows how long I’ve loved you
You know I love you still
Will I wait a lonely lifetime
If you want me to, I will.

For if I ever saw you
I didn’t catch your name
But it never really mattered
I will always feel the same.

Love you forever and forever
Love you with all my heart
Love you whenever we’re together
Love you when we’re apart.

And when at last I find you
Your song will fill the air
Sing it loud so I can hear you
Make it easy to be near you
For the things you do endear you me to
Ah you know I will
I will.

On that very last “I will” at the end there, Paul jumps up an entire octave and hits a high note to close out the song. Being a Beatles purist, I do my best imitation of this high-note as I finish off Keaton’s lullaby each night, my voice often breaking around the strain. Keaton has oviously learned to recognize this point in the song, because, at the past two night-night concertos, she’s squeaked out the high note right along with me at the end. At first I thought it might be a fluke, but now there’s no denying she knows the song enough to realize when that finale is coming, and hearing her little voice try to match my wavering attempt at alto completely melts my heart. Not only because we can share that “moment,” but also because… she knows the Beatles! Hehe.

Oh man, I have to tell you guys about this Led Zeppelin bootleg downloading spree I’ve been on. I don’t know why, but I just went nuts and started downloading all sorts of live ‘Zep recently. I actually think it started when all the hooplah about their recenr reunion show was boiling over on the internet. Anyway, I ended up finding a couple of simply amazing sounding “soundboard” shows. For those not acquainted with the terminology used to rate the sound quality of live music, soundboard means the show was recorded direct from the mixing board where the band’s engineer monitors all the audio sources and makes them sound good for the audience – it’s the best quality you can hope for in a live bootleg. Anyway, one of the shows is from Dallas in 1975 and one from Paris in 1969. Oh man, you gotta hear these shows… online bootlegging is the way of the future.

Oh, and, on the down-low, ‘Zep’s reunion show from last week has totally already leaked online… you should check it out tout-de-suite (look for the “slowburn” version until something better comes along).

Sorry it was all music. Goodnight.