Sweet Memories

So, musically...it's been a little slow the past couple days. Bands don't really fall out of trees and land on my doorstep no matter how much I might want them to,(although they do have little smoking clutches not far from where I live) but that's okay. There are quite a few stories in my pipeline which are just on hold until the calendar gets around to them. It's cruise control at the moment. I suppose it's times like these that make a person wax nostalgic. When there's nothing else going on, the easy thing to do is flip through the ol' album collection and pick something that's got dust on the cover. I've got a few of those. They're from the days before I had to get one of those monstrous CD racks so they just sat on my desk at home while the sun poured in the window and bleached the spines. They're the ones that get shafted to a box in my closet when I need to make room for something new and "cool." Yeah, those. It's funny the way that life circles around though, because things like music tastes have stages, I've noticed. The first stage is that initial infatuation with a group or band, it was the kind of thing that would strike right after summer vacation in middle school with half the class. At that moment, everyone is madly in love with the artist and who wants to be left off the band wagon? But then there's that screwy little period when all you want to do is separate yourself from the idea that that music ever got pipped through your headphones (and I guess this is more true in the young years, but I'm not exactly old so I'll let you know when I get there). Affinity levels drop, sometimes because of the shine that's worn off or because of a real drip of a sophomore album. Honeymoon's over folks, there's nothing to see here. After that, time passes and every last tiny spark has died. That band is over and there is no doubt that they've been over for a while and people feel distanced enough from the old days that it comes back into vogue to admit formerly questionable tastes. Personally, I think it stems from that desire to come across as self assured and confident, the way we all would like to be all the time about our tastes, especially back then. Weird. It's a false sense of maturity and an idea that we've moved passed it all. "Look how above everyone's opinion I am," when really it the same type of conformity as third grade when everyone wore Nike.

But then it's also important to separate a stroll down memory lane. It's not a matter of somewhat self consciously proclaiming ,"I totally just listened to the Backstreet Boys," but more a matter of figuring out what everyone was doing back in the day, where they come from, and ultimately who they were before we knew each other. I know in my case, there are few people that I've known more than five years, so I love talking about the music and the toys that we had or never got and of course the old commercials. For my age group, the Spice Girls were a collective experience
that nowadays we shake our heads about, because apparently they're trying to or actually did get back together. Good stuff. Did we really dig that? Yeah. In fact I never took their CD off my rack. Why would I? I might get sentimental one of these days.

I say that no one should ever be ashamed of what they once liked, even if it's not really en vogue yet to say so. One way or another that group or singer influenced their tastes whether it was to keep moving in that direction or run in the opposite. Plus, what would we talk about at lunch?

Open Mic Night is...

Open mic nights are sticky. Really sticky. In an ideal situation, there would be previously untapped talent sitting in the audience nursing a drink, then shyly sauntering up to the stage only to remind the rest of the venue why they love music like a second pulse. That's an ideal situation. Usually it doesn't quite work out that way. A lot of the time events like these are filled with alcohol-influenced delusion and unfortunate access to an instrument. At first, people are trying so hard to be polite but all it takes is a couple of bad notes, a failed falsetto, wrong note, and half the audience collectively winces and chokes on whatever they're drinking. It can be rough, an hour of misguided musical meanderings for a few instances of glowing talent. Personally, during the duds I start watching the chords the "artist" plays and scribble the progression on a napkin. It works.

Thankfully, I actually went to an open mic night that was heavier on the side of enjoyable than painful. Granted, the area is particularly musician-y, but that's still never a guarantee. I was surprised and the crowd was hyper sensitive. Chatter died as interest spiked and of course there were times when chatter threatened to drown the the ill-fated performance. The fourth act got up and hooked everyone with the first line. He was a little bit raspy. Combine that with witty, relatable lyrics, and decent guitar skills and those three minutes were truly his. Prize for best crowd reaction though, definitely went to one guy-- one of the few who wasn't playing a guitar-- who sat down at the piano and ripped it up with an incredibly smooth and soulful original song. It was proof that there are little buried diamonds out there which have yet to be placed in a setting. Standing ovation. The guy who followed even was forced to self-consciously acknowledge his unbelievable musical magnificence. If the other guy had everyone from the first line, this one had us by the first note.

Less successful acts included teeth grindingly long songs done in barley audible voices. "Sing along with me, everybody." No! I came here to listen. I write, not sing. A full minute of a mind numbing chorus and all I could do was pass impatient looks to my friend who looked incredulous at what we were witnessing. Others wouldn't have been so bad if they'd have been a little original and busted out of the whole sensitive songwriter schtick. We get it. You're in pain. Don't pass it along. Breathy and angsty only goes so far.

In the end, it's a tough thing to get up in front of people and try to act cool and professional, or at least not like you're about to wet yourself. It's hard, kudos to the person lacking in inhibitions enough to sing something that sounds like it was written by the guy who spiked the punch. They certainly have company. They are the proverbial "spice" of life.

The Mix Tape

I'd like to think that most of us have caught up with and are currently living in the very modern age of technology. I'd like to think that most of us take advantage of it. Sure, there are always exceptions, but on the whole it seems that if something becomes available-- especially if that technology involves music, people jump. It's like the iPod. Didn't see that coming, despite my unhappiness with one of those early portable CD players that skipped if I breathed too hard. Storing an entire life's worth of albums in a space the size of a credit card, if not smaller, is pure brilliance, and hearing it all shuffled together in an new invigorating order is ground breaking too...right? Everything's has got it's roots.

Lucky me, I recently was given a mix CD by someone with some local artists and such. "Cool stuff." "Favorite stuff." Granted it is very cool and I plan on listening to it frequently along with my other great loves, but it got me thinking about something. The classic mix tape has been around since somebody figured out it could be done due to lack of vinyl. Great for road trips, unfortunately used as poor excuses for birthday presents...the perfect mix tape is an art form that is either great or sucks. I haven't seen them around that much lately. I remember days when kids would jam the locking mechanism on their CD player and hit play so they could make Sharpie art on the label. It's been years since the last time I saw that. CDs are not long for this world. Mixes are now playlists, so how does that impact the fate of such glorious musical indulgence? They're kind of fun. It's like taking a peek into someone's head, into their way of thinking. The intrigue is endless. Being the perfect example of "it's the thought that counts," scanning a playlist on a tiny screen on someone's mp3 player just doesn't color the way a mysterious mix tape does. It's a tangible piece of personality when ambiguity is rampant in our species. I wonder if the playlist threatens to usurp the mix in a way that will make us even less connected with each other, designing playlists for ourselves and slowly forgetting to burn a copy for a friend.

Maybe I'm barking up the wrong tree, and I'm not saying they're gone, but I've found that it's an accumulation of the small changes that morph the bigger picture. If you're going to make a mix, do it well, and give it to someone who'll appreciate it. To the good person responsible for my mix. Thanks.

Listening Live

Let me start by saying I'm in the middle of a move so apologies for large gaps in time between postings...but I'm going to try really hard.

Moving on, I was walking around and stumbled on a congregation of guys sitting around playing their guitars and singing. It was surprising because despite the rather spontaneous nature of their gathering, they sounded really good. I couldn't help but think how great that was, what a terrific excuse to hang out and, as always, rock out. Of, course this kind of thing is nothing new and I'm raving like I just discovered sno cones, but in the past I have not been that exposed to that kind of pure, just sing-it type music. It's never been so accessible, it's always been a rare find for me. No one was worried about sounding stupid or hitting the wrong note because they were so wrapped up in the sheer momentum of the music itself and the approval of the crowd. Beautiful.

Later on I checked out a little music festival of sorts, showcasing several bands and singers, mostly college kids. I believe that some would have blown it off, thinking back to the crappy talent shows in high school, manned by a bunch of inexperienced students, but I figured maybe this would be different. It was terrific. Partly because the acts were good and fresh but also because the whole street was lit up and the music was loud. Makes a person want to swear off anything recorded. The other really nice thing, it was free. That definitely helps too attract a crowd of willing listeners who might just check out the band the following night for five dollars at a local whole in the wall. Sampler CDs, flyers, it was a lot of fun and the performers were so unjaded, it wasn't like listening to the crowd banter of someone who has been on the road fifteen years. They're either really good or burnt out. "Anybody from Cleveland?" Good energy, good crowd, good music, good ambiance. It was electric, guitar saturating the very air we were breathing. So once my friends and I decided to head home, it made it really hard to do. There were a couple acts left and even though they were going to be more country possibly fused with something else, oh was it hard to walk away from the music. So very, very hard to leave.

The Glory of the New Album

There are too few surprises in life. Way too few. Things are either predictable or given away easily. The magic 8 ball only has so many answers, too many colors will always make brown, an apple cut horizontally has a star in the middle. I think though, that one of the few experiences that is relatively difficult to spoil, is the experience of listening to an album for the first time. Sure, reviews are available and word spreads quickly, especially if it's a real dog, but it really doesn't matter who thinks you'll like an album. There is only one person who can decide that and I would hope that a person would be true enough not to subject themselves to music they absolutely despise. Nobody is convincing me that Modern Times by Bob Dylan rivals Highway 61 Revisited. Hell no, sugar. New music is great, or at least the prospect of new music. Who knows what's really been burned on those tracks? Musical innovation and enlightenment or warmed-over crap?

Then there's when you actually get to hit 'play' that first time. With me, I've got to listen to something several times before I make a decision. I distinctly remember being less than thrilled the first time I heard Hot Fuss by the Killers and then all of a sudden it all came together, it made sense as one piece of music, as one piece of style. Gaps closed and a definitive story line of sorts surfaced.I love that CD, but it was an interesting ride getting there. I think that ride is priceless. Every listen brings new twists and turns, new interpretations and details. At this very moment there is a brand new CD sitting in my bag that I have never heard before. It is something that has been around for maybe three years and despite talk I never really got around to buying it. Now it's mine and I can't wait to see if I agree or if I think it is grossly crushed by the hype. We'll see. It's a surprise.

Music to Me

Sometimes it is very easy to forget that not everyone shares your own particular tastes and preferences, especially when there is one particular thing that seems so vital to your life that it is completely beyond comprehension that one could exist with out it. One such example is chocolate. In my mind there are few things better-- bars, cake, milk, candy, I'd eat it all. Yet I happen to know someone who does not at all like chocolate..hates it in fact. I'll never understand it but I try to reason that it's no reflection on her personality or worth as a person. Obviously though, I'm not just talking about chocolate, unless Hershy's started giving out free downloads, and then we'd have an exclusive entry. What I'm talking more specifically about is the idea that some people don't feel the same way about music as say, I do. I can think of a couple of conversations I've had with people and it's always weird to stumble upon someone who says that they just don't listen to music that much. It's just not that important. Music is for the background in the car other selected moments. Technically it could be lived without. It's around this point that I physically move my jaw into the closed position, because I know I'm not the only one who counts music as a second heart beat, an ever present rhythm of life that fills in the gaps in my history. The different albums I've purchased over the years often come to represent that season in my life from the time I was in the sixth grade. There have even been times when I have felt so defined by a song that that's pretty much all she wrote. It's me. It's my soundtrack. It's all of our soundtracks. Songs and events become iconic in memory just because of the pairing. I listen to the radio, mp3 player, or a CD whenever I get a chance. Basically, just because I can, I do. So someone who is not on that wavelength becomes almost an oddity to me...as if I found Bigfoot in my back yard and all I could do was stare and marvel at how I didn't know he actually existed. To each it's own. I'm not much for judging and I'm sure equally strong passions spring up in different places. But man, what a quiet world.

In Case You Missed It

Normally I try to write about current items of interest, but every now and then I like to go back and look at things a second time. Whenever I discover a band that I really like, I investigate--look up bios, band member names, histories, and of course discographies. If a band is really good, and I mean really good...I try to get a hold of their older albums. One band like that is Death Cab for Cutie. I tuned in around the release of Plans which happened to the band's fifth disc and knew almost immediately that this was going to be a long term relationship. The next time I got a chance, I picked up their second CD, We Have Heard the Facts and We're Voting Yes. Honestly, when I first played it I thought it was kind of slow but I sat with the lyrics and a certain tranquil beauty surfaced from that fusion of words and music. So mellow, so cool. Anybody that can romanticize the mundane and suburban truly must have a gift with words. There are some real gems on the album like "405" which is that kind of odd stream of thoughts had while driving an endless highway, plus the added action on the idea of "what if I just kept driving?" Tantalizing. Then there's "Company Calls" which also makes eyes at the thought of just picking up and getting out. Death Cab are the masters of the melancholy without the depressing part. I particularly like "No Joy in Mudville" for it's sheer imagery. Brownstone buildings, southern corruption, incomparable cool. It's not flowery stuff but when combined with the tone of the song, it just evokes explosions of images. Death Cab lyrics are always great, but this is just so finely crafted. If for some reason, this disc has not made it's way into your collection, check it out. It was released some time ago but it's worth another look if you skipped over it at some point. You might just hear flashes of your own life in it's notes.

Guitar Hero?

There's something I've been wondering for a while and I'm hoping maybe someone out there has got some thoughts on it. By now most people are familiar with the video game Guitar Hero, in fact it's pretty inescapable. Kids, teenagers, and even adults have sunken an incredible amount of time perfecting the art of pushing buttons on the plastic fret board of a plastic guitar in rapid succession while reading cues off their television. To me it's an odd place to be. A friend was recently rambling about how cool it was to play some super difficult or iconic rock song flawlessly and like an original. I sat there wondering if this person was aware that they're really not playing it; it's an illusion. That got me wondering about all the kids, past and present, who are so impassioned about music and will not stop until they can make it their own, until it pours out of their very finger tips. It takes so much work and love. How are they effected? Personally, I was not raised on video games and I have not played Guitar Hero, but I do play the guitar... a real guitar...and I taught myself not only to play but to read music. It was anything but instant gratification and I'm still working because it hasn't been that long and I really and truly want to be good. So, what happens to the kid who doesn't have the grand prize of playing "Smoke on the Water" or rattling off a Chuck Berry bass run, dangling in front of their face to keep them going and practicing? Learning to press buttons accurately and quickly is not the same as learning notes and chords and getting to the point where transitioning between the two is second nature. Strumming isn't even always that simple! I pretty much obliterated my fingerprints and every time I look at my fingertips I smirk with pride. Our society is so heavy on instant gratification, it worries me to think maybe people will hone their virtual skills only because it's easier. If I had a video of the way my friend spoke about the game and the pride that he had in saying how good he was while he had an electric guitar sitting under his bed that he had never attempted to play, it would scare anybody. For the sake of the guitar, I almost asked for it.

The optimist in me would like to think though that Guitar Hero would maybe introduce kids to the glory of an instrument, but if this is this what it takes for a kid to figure out what "Freebird" is...I just don't know. I'd also like to think that folks out there can separate the two, buttons versus strings, plastic versus wood, sitting on the edge of your bed looking at the TV versus sitting on the edge of your bed with your eyes closed because your fingers remember every string and every fret. Hopefully the difference and the worth is obvious and the game will become a launch pad for budding musicians. I just don't know. In my mind, if someone said "guitar hero," I'd say," Les Paul, Chuck Berry, Willie Nelson, Jimi Hendrix, Pete Townsend, Keith Richards, and my grandfather too," way before I'd ever say "video game."

Any thoughts? I'm riding a bit of a line here and all comments are more than welcome. They're encouraged. Always. It's no fun if all I do is preach from my keyboard.

White Stripes: You Don't Know What Love is (You Just Do as You're Told)

Six albums in, the White Stripes are still as color coordinated and screwy as ever and their latest release Icky Thump has managed, it seems to generate more press about what the heck that title means than anything else. Honestly, I haven't heard the album in it's entirety so no judgement here, but I have heard a couple cuts and they weren't too bad. One in particular (check entry title because I'm not typing it again) surprised me to an extent because it felt like a departure from Jack White's nasal whine and vocal eccentricities. Pretty solid, kind of cool...possibly worth snagging off of iTunes. As always the Whites keep things refreshingly uncluttered, a bit of guitar and a bit of percussion and my mutable affinity level for the duo shoots up. The song feels well made and without that feeling like something is lacking yet you can't put your finger on it. It's definitely not "Blue Orchid" or "White Moon" off of Get Behind Me Satan which are piles of notes and chords barely recognizable as songs. "You Don't Know..." is more traditional in a sense like "As Ugly as I Seem" or "I'm Lonely (but I ain't that lonely yet." I like that. If there was one thing that irked me though, the first time I heard the song it reminded me of another and by some miracle I realized that one part of the chorus bares great similarity to "To Love Somebody" by the Bee Gees, but so many years down the life line of rock, total originality is extremely rare. Everything is derivative of something.

That said, I'm curious about the rest of the album. I wonder if it will ride the usual roller coaster of Jack White giving new and unwanted meaning to the phrase "creative liberty" only to coast into just cool rock in top form. I'll try to push aside my usual annoyance with him, especially after his latest turn bashing Detroit in every other interview. The White Stripes wouldn't have been without Detroit and I wish he'd remember that.

In any case Jack and Meg White are to the point where, like it or not...they're here and on several instances proved that they are worth checking out...like him or not.

Anybody Out There?

Most people are pretty into themselves. I think that's a fair statement, and why not? It's what's in front of us that's the most obvious and with that most accessible. So, by extension if we're into ourselves, we're into our habitat. That's fine too. I like my habitat. It's pleasantly messy and at times crazy...but even bigger than that is the realization that sometimes I don't have much of an idea of what's going on in other cultures. It's got nothing to go with politics and wars and everything to do with music.

In case, if anybody hasn't ever picked up a copy of Paste magazine, I'd like to say it's one of the greatest music magazines out there and reading it is a must. Besides covering more mainstream alternative, it covers the up-and-coming and off-beat, as well as the international. What's even better is their sampler CD. Some one with a hungry appetite for music, the chance to hear a variety of singles from more established folks like Marc Broussard to a funky guy like Kristoffer Ragnstam from Sweden, is a thing of beauty. And with regards to the later whose song "Man Overboard" is a delicious mix European flare with a bit of a club sound, it's very modern, very cool, it gets stuck in my head ll the time. Another cool song recently highlighted is "White Tiger" by Pétur Ben from Iceland. It's along similar lines and very enjoyable having a definite structure and driving shifts in the song. I guess my point is that sometimes it's hard to keep up with the American music scene let alone one from another continent but there's gold over there and it's unfortunate to be blind to it. Both songs are in English just in case anyone was wondering, 'cause I know someone was. One song that isn't though, is Gör Det Nu by a group from Sweden called Dungen. I've actually seen this CD in the store. Folks, I have no idea what the heck that means, but it doesn't stop me from trying to sing along.

At the end of the day, it just makes me want to keep on my toes for whatever else I can find. There's a whole lot beyond our borders. Stay tuned.

Adventures in Trying to be Open Minded

A few days a ago I saw a flyer advertising a rock band playing at a local church in my area. I'm not into Christian music, it's just a genre that I never had much exposure to and having been raised on The Beatles and The Rolling Stones...yeah. So I was curious given the fact that the band was making the distinction of being a Catholic band and I thought it would be interesting to see if there would be a difference. I'm not much into blanket statements about anything, there are always exceptions to the rule so I was ready to keep an open mind. That said, when my friend and I arrived to see barely twenty people milling around the place, I had a bad feeling. We were greeted by an overly enthusiastic manager directing us toward seats, acting like it was great that the small crowd gave us our pick. She had a small table with a couple of shirts, cds, and stickers. We stood around and she kept trying to push the start time back incase more people showed up but by 7:15 it was pretty clear that was going to be it. The whole time the band was stuck over in a little nook with their guitars which was completely visible to the audience. Needless to say it was almost comical when the manager introduced them with such drama and they stepped out from the nook a few feet away. At that point I'd already made a deal with my friend that we'd give it three songs and head over to the ice cream parlor.

Three songs later when we were trying to make the most discreet exit possible, it felt really disappointing and all I could think was what they should have done differently. For instance, they should have picked a smaller room to perform in instead of the main sanctuary which can accommodate several hundred people for any given service. They couldn't have thought there was going to be a massive turnout. With a smaller room at least they could say it was fairly full. It's all about the spin.

Something else; cut the cheap theatrics. Pure skill needs no help in shining. It was the cheesy intro and the jumping all over the place and cliché interactions between the guitarists. I couldn't help but think that I've seen this stuff before. Add in the classic audience banter, "anybody like Reliant K?" and the countdown started. There was some irony in the lead singer referencing more of a commercial success like maybe Reliant K or Switchfoot because I believe that some of their popularity stems from lyrics that don't read like they were written a few centuries ago. Keep the audience in mind! 16 to maybe 26 years old-- that age group wants more relatable content, more subtle.

I'm no expert on the genre and I usually don't curb my opinions, but I've seen enough bands with the "I think I can" mentality go down in flames that I just don't feel like ripping them a new one by using their name in this entry. They were young guys, I would just hope that they would get their act together and who knows what can happen. In any case, it's always fun to check out a random band on a whim. Give it a try, to quote Matchbox Twenty, "bad trips make great stories."

Concert T Shirts...Oh the Vanity

Concerts are terrific. Seeing an artist make their music live can be an unforgettable experience, possibly even good enough to make a person forget how much they had to shell out to see a moving blur of color playing a blotch that kind of looks like a guitar on a stage a quarter mile away. No body guaranteed an intimate setting. So, at the end of the evening when the artist has dramatically disappeared below the stage or whatever, what's the first thing that have the crowd does? Buy a forty dollar shirt with the name and face plastered across the front. Sometimes the shirt is more than the ticket. For the longest time, I wondered why. I never much had the compulsion to pay more than five for a poster...why is it that some concert goers cannot resist? I've got a few theories.

BOASTFULNESS: We all know what costs what and maybe they think it looks impressive and some people will be awe struck. It wasn't enough for them that they actually went to the damn thing. Might as well display your recreational budget on that shirt and that especially goes for people who seem to own only concert T's.

LOOK AT ME! : In some cases though, I'm inclined to think that it's a way to advertise what awesome taste in music a person thinks they have. If they get a couple people to fawn over how they love that band too or ask when they were in town because they totally would have seen them...extra points. The more indie the better. If no one's heard of the band on the shirt...extra extra points.

LIFESTYLE: It's like saying that a person has nothing better to do than keep up with who is playing at what hole in the wall or big venue and then attend. It makes them seems very much "in-the-know" and how great is that. But then one of the most anoying things is the fake concert T. Sometimes I have to refrian from shouting at a 15 year old kid, "you weren't even alive when the Doors were playing!"

In the end, I'm not swearing off concert T's, I'm just making a request for the exploration behind motives. If someone is cool with being a advertisement for a band for free because they genuinely like the band and maybe want to help get the poor guys off the ground, that's fine and everything done lightly to moderately is always cool. Let's not over do it, people. I still say they should be paying us to wear their apparel, but whatever. Concert T's : Wear Responsibly.