In retrospect, my first six months in LA should’ve been incredibly depressing times. I lived in a shitty apartment where I co-existed with cockroaches and black mold (growing on my walls). Unable to get a job as a waiter or bus boy with my $30,000 education, I was a host at a shitty Mexican restaurant. My big break came when I started working part-time on Jimmy Kimmel Live, where I had a shitty boss who hated life so much, she could suck the fun out of a room faster than the bags of potato chips she poured into her greedy little mouth every afternoon. I didn’t have many friends, even less money, and nothing even remotely resembling the prospect of getting laid.
But I was in LA. On my own. It was new and exciting and whenever I’d start to get bummed out, I could always reassure myself that whatever suffering I was going through was just part of paying my dues. Still, a man wants a woman. A man goes out and gets a woman. I’m more of a boy, so instead of going out and trying to meet a woman, I turned to the Internet and hoped to find myself a girl. That last sentence really makes me sound like one of those Dateline 20/20 sex predators, doesn’t it? I’m not. Seriously, Christine is like three years older and she took advantage of me, but I’m getting ahead of myself.
After working late on New Year’s Eve (2004), I rang in the New Year drinking a six-pack and IM’ing with my friend Lauren. She in Alabama, and equally lonely, had recently joined an online dating website called Okcupid.com. Lauren, who was slutting it up with every Tom and Dick she met (just kidding Lauren), managed to convince me to post a profile. She said I’d make it funny and she needed a good laugh. At first I told myself it was just for fun, but the website became kind of addictive and after realizing there were some really hot girls looking for love in LA, I was actually kind of hooked on it.
Now I only actually ended up going out with one girl (Sexy Refrigerator) and on our second date, I had to drag her out my Halloween Party because I’d fallen for this cutie Cyclops (Christine). Still, Okcupid ended up being a pretty amazing discovery. Aside from the voyeuristic pleasure of looking at pictures of other people and reading their profiles, it was a great way to discover new music. If a girl seemed smart, had good tastes in movies, books, music, and then listed a band I’d never heard of, I’d go out and download a song or two.
One of those joyous discoveries was the band: Nouvelle Vague. They’re a French group, featuring a few different female singers doing bossa nova covers of eighties punk and new wave songs. One other tiny tidbit -- the singers weren’t familiar with the original songs, so they’re take was totally unique. The band’s self-titled debut album is beyond chill. The female leads have some ridiculous voices, sweet-sounding and a joy to take in. The bossa nova purely acoustic swing only adds to my enjoyment of the music. It’s kind of the perfect album to have in the background as you work, or if a few friends are over and you’re playing trivial pursuit. It’s the kind of sound simple enough to enjoy without requiring much attention, but layered enough to appreciate on another level upon closer inspection.
Covers include The Clash’s “Guns of Brixton,” Depeche Mode’s “Just Can’t Get Enough of You,” The Dead Kennedy’s “Too Drunk Too Fuck,” and my two favorites, Modern English’s “I Melt With You,” and Public Image LTD’s “This Is Not a Love Song.” They’re sweet, and simple, and sometimes kind of sexy. Definitely a CD/band worth checking out.
Glancing over this entry I’m not quite what sure to make. I had a lot more Okcupid success with discovering music than I did with touching a boob. Singular of boob… one would’ve been enough those first six months. And this blog is probably the same. It won’t ever get me laid. Not even by my girlfriend who teases me about writing really long snooty rants about hippies when I’m really a hippie myself. But it’s a good place to discuss and discover music and hey, if it came down to giving up sex or music, sex has got to go… probably… maybe… it would be a tough decision.
Nouvelle Vague
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Why am I such a bad dancer?
For those of you who have seen me dance… I’m sorry – it’s not a pretty sight. There’s a lot of misguided hip shaking, arm swinging, and head bobbing as I desperately search for the beat. Usually, I resign myself to a modified “running man.” My head goes up and down or shoulder-to-shoulder, while my arms take turns upper cutting my chin. What my legs do is better left unsaid. Why am I such a bad dancer?
The short answer is that I’m a skinny, white, Jewish boy, without much rhythm. On closer examination, that doesn’t begin to explain my ineptitude. The belief that all Jews, or white people for that matter, are bad dancers is not only a broad generalization (racist) but inaccurate. When I watch “My Super Sweet Sixteen” (MTV guilty pleasure watching at it’s finest) the white kids are cutting a serious rug. (Do the kids say, “cutting a rug” anymore?)
So what makes them so different than me? Well, I’ll get to them a bit later, but first I want to explain why a fairly decent athlete like myself, has to rely on the delicate balance of “just enough booze” when I dance -- too little and I move like the Tin Man, too much and I’m somewhere between doing the cabbage patch and having a seizure, just right and I may walk off the dance floor with some of my dignity still intact.
The answer lies in the music I was socialized with. My mom was not hip. Anyone who has met her will say that she’s very sweet and kind, but no one is confusing her with “the cool mom.” (That was Linda Gerber, aka “the skunk,” aka a regular visitor to the… ahem… imagination of my 15 year old self.) Anyway, the coolest thing my mom ever had me listen to was the Beatles, beyond that, I don’t know if she even listened to contemporary music. I was pretty much on my own when it came to discovering music as a kid, forced to rely on MTV and the tapes my brother was no longer interested in. At the age of 12, my music collection consisted of the following artists: Poison, Guns and Roses, Genesis, Pink Floyd, The Dead Milkmen, Paula Abdul, Neil Young, Vanilla Ice, Fiddler On The Roof Soundtrack, REM, Pearl Jam, They Might Be Giants, Billy Joel, Weird Al, and an additional Paula Abdul album (I had both “Spellbound” and “Forever Your Girl”). What does this eclectic group of musicians have in common? They’re all white.
When Paula Abdul and Vanilla Ice are the closet things a kid has to music created by people of color, it’s damn near impossible to understand what “soul” is. And I’m not just talking about soul music (which much to my delight, I discovered in college); I’m talking about music that has soul in it. The bulk of my black classmates in elementary school grew up listening to the music their parents listened to and you better believe that music had some soul in it. Meanwhile, I listened to what most middle class white kids were listening to… the stuff on the radio and on MTV. Outside of Michael Jackson, MC Hammer, Living Color, TLC, and Salt and Peppa, I don’t remember too many black faces or voices on my TV or radio. And I didn’t have the slightest idea what soul meant.
Now what exactly is soul? Well, it’s hard to pinpoint just what it is. It’s easy to point to various groups or musicians (Al Green, Curtis Mayfield, James Brown, Aretha Franklin and so on) and say they have soul. It’s not so hard to trace the influence of soul artists to funk (Bootsy Collins, Maceo Parker, George Clinton, etc.) and onto hip-hop (The Roots, Jill Scoot, Erykah Badu, etc.) But what is it that all these people have in common (aside from being black)? What about their music makes it soulful? If I had to pinpoint it, it’s a combination of R&B and gospel inspired elements, most notably powerful singing and rhythms you can tap your feet to… and dance to.
In college, I used to go to a bar called Darwin’s every Thursday night and dance my ass off. It was a predominantly white crowd listening to predominantly hip-hop music. After a few cocktails, I’d usually work up the courage to approach a cute black girl and I’d say, “I’m skinny white, Jewish boy, without much rhythm… but I want to learn!” The line never failed and in seconds I was grinding was some cutie that could dance circles around most of the girls in the bar. Inevitably, I always heard the same thing week in and week out: “Listen for the beat. Find the beat.”
But I couldn’t. And it’s not because I was white and she was black, it’s because I was raised listening to Poison (no one is ever going to confuse anything Poison has written for having even an inkling of soul in it) and she was raised listening to stuff you can dance to. Now white kids were in the clear for a while. White music was pop music, and so others had to conform to the white style of dancing. In the 70’s it was disco, in the 80’s it was some sort of manic, arms flailing, seizure-like thrashing (http://youtube.com/watch?v=5Iwmqq1o0Ts - watch how the people dance in the background in this clip from 16 Candles), and in the 90’s it was head banging and mosh pits.
Today, hip-hop culture is pop-culture. White kids and black kids alike are socialized on black music. And while “soul” may be absent from Lil’ John and some of his hip-hop counterparts, check out the most recent Kanye West album and listen to “Gold Digger” or “Gone” and then try telling me there’s not a direct correlation from soul music to rap. Kids of all races are growing up listening to music that has a beat, which leads me back to “My Super Sweet Sixteen.” The white kids in that, bumping and grinding away with careless ease, have no trouble finding the beat. If you grow up listening to music with soul, the beat is just a part of you.
The short answer is that I’m a skinny, white, Jewish boy, without much rhythm. On closer examination, that doesn’t begin to explain my ineptitude. The belief that all Jews, or white people for that matter, are bad dancers is not only a broad generalization (racist) but inaccurate. When I watch “My Super Sweet Sixteen” (MTV guilty pleasure watching at it’s finest) the white kids are cutting a serious rug. (Do the kids say, “cutting a rug” anymore?)
So what makes them so different than me? Well, I’ll get to them a bit later, but first I want to explain why a fairly decent athlete like myself, has to rely on the delicate balance of “just enough booze” when I dance -- too little and I move like the Tin Man, too much and I’m somewhere between doing the cabbage patch and having a seizure, just right and I may walk off the dance floor with some of my dignity still intact.
The answer lies in the music I was socialized with. My mom was not hip. Anyone who has met her will say that she’s very sweet and kind, but no one is confusing her with “the cool mom.” (That was Linda Gerber, aka “the skunk,” aka a regular visitor to the… ahem… imagination of my 15 year old self.) Anyway, the coolest thing my mom ever had me listen to was the Beatles, beyond that, I don’t know if she even listened to contemporary music. I was pretty much on my own when it came to discovering music as a kid, forced to rely on MTV and the tapes my brother was no longer interested in. At the age of 12, my music collection consisted of the following artists: Poison, Guns and Roses, Genesis, Pink Floyd, The Dead Milkmen, Paula Abdul, Neil Young, Vanilla Ice, Fiddler On The Roof Soundtrack, REM, Pearl Jam, They Might Be Giants, Billy Joel, Weird Al, and an additional Paula Abdul album (I had both “Spellbound” and “Forever Your Girl”). What does this eclectic group of musicians have in common? They’re all white.
When Paula Abdul and Vanilla Ice are the closet things a kid has to music created by people of color, it’s damn near impossible to understand what “soul” is. And I’m not just talking about soul music (which much to my delight, I discovered in college); I’m talking about music that has soul in it. The bulk of my black classmates in elementary school grew up listening to the music their parents listened to and you better believe that music had some soul in it. Meanwhile, I listened to what most middle class white kids were listening to… the stuff on the radio and on MTV. Outside of Michael Jackson, MC Hammer, Living Color, TLC, and Salt and Peppa, I don’t remember too many black faces or voices on my TV or radio. And I didn’t have the slightest idea what soul meant.
Now what exactly is soul? Well, it’s hard to pinpoint just what it is. It’s easy to point to various groups or musicians (Al Green, Curtis Mayfield, James Brown, Aretha Franklin and so on) and say they have soul. It’s not so hard to trace the influence of soul artists to funk (Bootsy Collins, Maceo Parker, George Clinton, etc.) and onto hip-hop (The Roots, Jill Scoot, Erykah Badu, etc.) But what is it that all these people have in common (aside from being black)? What about their music makes it soulful? If I had to pinpoint it, it’s a combination of R&B and gospel inspired elements, most notably powerful singing and rhythms you can tap your feet to… and dance to.
In college, I used to go to a bar called Darwin’s every Thursday night and dance my ass off. It was a predominantly white crowd listening to predominantly hip-hop music. After a few cocktails, I’d usually work up the courage to approach a cute black girl and I’d say, “I’m skinny white, Jewish boy, without much rhythm… but I want to learn!” The line never failed and in seconds I was grinding was some cutie that could dance circles around most of the girls in the bar. Inevitably, I always heard the same thing week in and week out: “Listen for the beat. Find the beat.”
But I couldn’t. And it’s not because I was white and she was black, it’s because I was raised listening to Poison (no one is ever going to confuse anything Poison has written for having even an inkling of soul in it) and she was raised listening to stuff you can dance to. Now white kids were in the clear for a while. White music was pop music, and so others had to conform to the white style of dancing. In the 70’s it was disco, in the 80’s it was some sort of manic, arms flailing, seizure-like thrashing (http://youtube.com/watch?v=5Iwmqq1o0Ts - watch how the people dance in the background in this clip from 16 Candles), and in the 90’s it was head banging and mosh pits.
Today, hip-hop culture is pop-culture. White kids and black kids alike are socialized on black music. And while “soul” may be absent from Lil’ John and some of his hip-hop counterparts, check out the most recent Kanye West album and listen to “Gold Digger” or “Gone” and then try telling me there’s not a direct correlation from soul music to rap. Kids of all races are growing up listening to music that has a beat, which leads me back to “My Super Sweet Sixteen.” The white kids in that, bumping and grinding away with careless ease, have no trouble finding the beat. If you grow up listening to music with soul, the beat is just a part of you.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Why are blind people such good musicians?
The most famous blind people in history include Homer (author of “The Iliad” and “The Odyssey.”), Louis Braille (creator of Braille), Ray Charles, Stevie Wonder, Doc Watson, Blind Lemon Jefferson, and about fifty other fantastic musicians, oh and Helen Keller… who could apparently play the shit out of a harmonica. Why are blind people such good musicians? The popular theory is that being deprived of the sense of sight heightens their other senses, especially hearing. The ability to hear well apparently correlates to being a good musician. Or so they say.
I have a different theory. Blind musicians are predominantly male and believe me, this is not a coincidence. Blind boys have it tough enough to begin with, but once they hit puberty, they have the same urges as every other guy. The problem is, blind kids can’t play sports, or drive fancy cars, or do most of the other things adolescent guys do to try and get laid. (Let me emphasize the “try” because lord knows I played a lot of sports and passed my road test with flying colors and it didn’t do me a lick of good. ) Blind kids have to be creative in order to get a little action; their outlet is music. Because after all, chicks dig a guy in a band, even a guy who can’t see. Lord knows, Clarence Carter wasn’t “Strokin’” it all his life – my man was making love “at the dark end of the street.” Dude was a straight pimp, same with Ray Charles, and probably most of these fellows. Well maybe not…
…The Blind Boys of Alabama. They fit the talented blind musician criteria, but they’re very religious and also like 120 years old. Despite having bones with the consistency of dust, these guys still never cease to amaze me. My buddy Steve introduced me to them in college and I was blown away the first time I saw them perform “Amazing Grace.” It’s gospel done right. Trust. If you’ve never seen the Blind Boys, check out this youtube clip:
Amazing Grace (after watching it again, I take it all back, these guys, religious convictions aside, must be rolling in the booty.)
On the subject of blind gospel musicians, I’d be remiss not to discuss Marcus Roberts. He is without a doubt, one of the best jazz pianists in the world. He’s also blind and probably nails his fair share of cuties. If you like jazz or you want to like jazz or even if you just love a good piano player, I implore you to go out and buy Marcus Roberts’, “In Honor of Duke (Ellington).” It is one of my top five all-time favorite jazz albums, right up there with “Kind of Blue” “A Love Supreme” and “Ah-Um.” It’s really that good. Now, I know enough about jazz to appreciate something incredible, but perhaps not enough to wax poetically on the subject. I’m going to let Marcus Roberts do some of the work for me:
“In Honor of Duke is not a tribute. To me, a tribute implies that the value of what you’re paying tribute to has little current or future relevance. The relevance of Edward Kennedy Ellington’s legacy is eternal; thus, this recording is a celebration of the powerful influence and undeniable impact the has had on the entire jazz lineage.”
Rather than cover Ellington songs, Roberts and his trio wrote a unique suite inspired by and in admiration of Duke Ellington. On the album, Roberts is helping to revolutionize the concept of the jazz trio. Again, I’ll let Roberts explain himself:
“My trio concept is simple. It takes issue with the traditional notion that the bass and drums in the trio simply accompany, providing support, and soloing only at the end of a tune, if at all. I believe that the future of the modern jazz piano trio lies in its ability to be completely flexible in all elements of musical style. Therefore, my arrangements allow each player to transition instantaneously from the role of accompanist to soloist. In addition, each musician, whether an accompanist or soloist, can at any time change the motion and conceptual direction of the music.”
So on the album, drummer Jason Marsalis and bassist Roland Guerin have the opportunity to take control of the song at any point in time. It’s cool to listen for this during the tracks. Not only are drum and bass solos taken at interesting times, but both musicians will at times, take the reigns of the entire song.
Now jazz is not for everyone. Some people hate it and some people like it only as background music. This album can either be pleasant ambience or given a considerable amount of attention, an adrenaline pumping experience. When my friend Greg (M.F.G.) introduced me to the album, he made me sit down and listen to the whole thing all at once. That’s the way to do it, after all, it is a suite. By the end, I found myself totally rapt when Roberts builds into a body shaking, gospel inspired, notes-a-flyin’ solo (see “The Beauty of the Spirit” to really get understand the gospel connection and power of Roberts’ piano). It’s still in regular rotation in my CD player and still continues to amaze and inspire me. This album is contemporary jazz at its finest.
Marcus Roberts
I have a different theory. Blind musicians are predominantly male and believe me, this is not a coincidence. Blind boys have it tough enough to begin with, but once they hit puberty, they have the same urges as every other guy. The problem is, blind kids can’t play sports, or drive fancy cars, or do most of the other things adolescent guys do to try and get laid. (Let me emphasize the “try” because lord knows I played a lot of sports and passed my road test with flying colors and it didn’t do me a lick of good. ) Blind kids have to be creative in order to get a little action; their outlet is music. Because after all, chicks dig a guy in a band, even a guy who can’t see. Lord knows, Clarence Carter wasn’t “Strokin’” it all his life – my man was making love “at the dark end of the street.” Dude was a straight pimp, same with Ray Charles, and probably most of these fellows. Well maybe not…
…The Blind Boys of Alabama. They fit the talented blind musician criteria, but they’re very religious and also like 120 years old. Despite having bones with the consistency of dust, these guys still never cease to amaze me. My buddy Steve introduced me to them in college and I was blown away the first time I saw them perform “Amazing Grace.” It’s gospel done right. Trust. If you’ve never seen the Blind Boys, check out this youtube clip:
Amazing Grace (after watching it again, I take it all back, these guys, religious convictions aside, must be rolling in the booty.)
On the subject of blind gospel musicians, I’d be remiss not to discuss Marcus Roberts. He is without a doubt, one of the best jazz pianists in the world. He’s also blind and probably nails his fair share of cuties. If you like jazz or you want to like jazz or even if you just love a good piano player, I implore you to go out and buy Marcus Roberts’, “In Honor of Duke (Ellington).” It is one of my top five all-time favorite jazz albums, right up there with “Kind of Blue” “A Love Supreme” and “Ah-Um.” It’s really that good. Now, I know enough about jazz to appreciate something incredible, but perhaps not enough to wax poetically on the subject. I’m going to let Marcus Roberts do some of the work for me:
“In Honor of Duke is not a tribute. To me, a tribute implies that the value of what you’re paying tribute to has little current or future relevance. The relevance of Edward Kennedy Ellington’s legacy is eternal; thus, this recording is a celebration of the powerful influence and undeniable impact the has had on the entire jazz lineage.”
Rather than cover Ellington songs, Roberts and his trio wrote a unique suite inspired by and in admiration of Duke Ellington. On the album, Roberts is helping to revolutionize the concept of the jazz trio. Again, I’ll let Roberts explain himself:
“My trio concept is simple. It takes issue with the traditional notion that the bass and drums in the trio simply accompany, providing support, and soloing only at the end of a tune, if at all. I believe that the future of the modern jazz piano trio lies in its ability to be completely flexible in all elements of musical style. Therefore, my arrangements allow each player to transition instantaneously from the role of accompanist to soloist. In addition, each musician, whether an accompanist or soloist, can at any time change the motion and conceptual direction of the music.”
So on the album, drummer Jason Marsalis and bassist Roland Guerin have the opportunity to take control of the song at any point in time. It’s cool to listen for this during the tracks. Not only are drum and bass solos taken at interesting times, but both musicians will at times, take the reigns of the entire song.
Now jazz is not for everyone. Some people hate it and some people like it only as background music. This album can either be pleasant ambience or given a considerable amount of attention, an adrenaline pumping experience. When my friend Greg (M.F.G.) introduced me to the album, he made me sit down and listen to the whole thing all at once. That’s the way to do it, after all, it is a suite. By the end, I found myself totally rapt when Roberts builds into a body shaking, gospel inspired, notes-a-flyin’ solo (see “The Beauty of the Spirit” to really get understand the gospel connection and power of Roberts’ piano). It’s still in regular rotation in my CD player and still continues to amaze and inspire me. This album is contemporary jazz at its finest.
Marcus Roberts
Monday, February 12, 2007
Darrell Scott - "Live in North Carolina" (or why country music doesn't suck)
People, when asked about the types of music they enjoy, often respond, “anything but country (western).” I get this – I’m not crazy about country music either. In general, the sound is a little too polished for my liking and the themes (patriotic hoh-hah, trite proverbs, misogynistic nonsense, and love songs that equate romantic feelings with various machines found on a farm) are hard to relate to. That being said, to characterize an entire genre of music as bad seems shortsighted, especially if one likes ANYTHING (including bluegrass and folk) but country.
I mention the bluegrass and folk because country at it’s best, is a nice hybrid of the two styles of music. Great bluegrass typically means a series of talented musicians taking turns soloing over a catchy little hook, punctuated by a simple chorus. Folk places more of an emphasis on great songwriting, and when done right, is full of soul. Both genres tend to be a little rough around the edges. That rawness and honesty, the heart of both styles, is what seems to be missing from country music so often. Not always though.
My brother got me into a guy named Darrell Scott – for those that think they hate country music, I implore you to listen to his, “Live In North Carolina” CD. It’s a prime example of country music done right (and live music done right, for that matter). Darrell Scott is one hell of a guitar player and has a voice powerful enough to match. I have another (solo) live show of Scott’s and he shreds on a few of the songs; clearly he has the ability to play a lot notes in a little time. On this disc, his guitar is a bit more tasteful. He picks his spots and lets the beautiful tone of his guitar do most of the work. In the Office writers’ room there’s a running (half-serious) joke during rewrites: a cut is as good as a joke (after all, brevity is the soul of wit, right?). The principle seems to hold true in music. There’s a time and a place for showing off and playing a lot of notes, but sometimes the song is found in the notes not played. Chris Thile, the mandolin player in Nickel Creek, is arguably the fastest, most technically proficient mandolinist in the world; no one plays faster. But for my money, I’ll take David Grisman any day. Grisman, a prodigy in his own right, doesn’t quite have the chops of Thile, but he’s tasteful; his sound never overwhelms your ears. Scott’s choices on this album are the same way. It’s clear he’s good, but he doesn’t have to hit you over the head with his ability. He plays guitar alongside the thundering upright bass of Danny Thompson and the impeccable drumming of Kenny Malone. Both musicians are solid, talented, been around a long time, kind of guys.
The album isn’t perfect. I tend to only listen to the first seven (of nine) tracks. There’s a spoken word poem on “River Take Me” that’s so cheesy I cringe every time I hear it. And some of the lyrics are kind of “meh.” Still, there are two tracks that I think everyone should hear:
“Helen of Troy, PA” – is rip-roaring tale of two high school kids who lose their virginity to a recently divorced “cougar”… at the same time. The song is fun, the guitar is great, and I’d be shocked to hear a better song about someone getting deflowered.
“You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive” – is the haunting, epic tale, about various generations of family that can’t quite escape the sad fate of the mining town they live in. It paints a sad, soulful picture of Appalachian life. It also happens (to date) to be my favorite country song.
Darrell Scott - scroll down to listen to “Helen of Troy, PA”
I mention the bluegrass and folk because country at it’s best, is a nice hybrid of the two styles of music. Great bluegrass typically means a series of talented musicians taking turns soloing over a catchy little hook, punctuated by a simple chorus. Folk places more of an emphasis on great songwriting, and when done right, is full of soul. Both genres tend to be a little rough around the edges. That rawness and honesty, the heart of both styles, is what seems to be missing from country music so often. Not always though.
My brother got me into a guy named Darrell Scott – for those that think they hate country music, I implore you to listen to his, “Live In North Carolina” CD. It’s a prime example of country music done right (and live music done right, for that matter). Darrell Scott is one hell of a guitar player and has a voice powerful enough to match. I have another (solo) live show of Scott’s and he shreds on a few of the songs; clearly he has the ability to play a lot notes in a little time. On this disc, his guitar is a bit more tasteful. He picks his spots and lets the beautiful tone of his guitar do most of the work. In the Office writers’ room there’s a running (half-serious) joke during rewrites: a cut is as good as a joke (after all, brevity is the soul of wit, right?). The principle seems to hold true in music. There’s a time and a place for showing off and playing a lot of notes, but sometimes the song is found in the notes not played. Chris Thile, the mandolin player in Nickel Creek, is arguably the fastest, most technically proficient mandolinist in the world; no one plays faster. But for my money, I’ll take David Grisman any day. Grisman, a prodigy in his own right, doesn’t quite have the chops of Thile, but he’s tasteful; his sound never overwhelms your ears. Scott’s choices on this album are the same way. It’s clear he’s good, but he doesn’t have to hit you over the head with his ability. He plays guitar alongside the thundering upright bass of Danny Thompson and the impeccable drumming of Kenny Malone. Both musicians are solid, talented, been around a long time, kind of guys.
The album isn’t perfect. I tend to only listen to the first seven (of nine) tracks. There’s a spoken word poem on “River Take Me” that’s so cheesy I cringe every time I hear it. And some of the lyrics are kind of “meh.” Still, there are two tracks that I think everyone should hear:
“Helen of Troy, PA” – is rip-roaring tale of two high school kids who lose their virginity to a recently divorced “cougar”… at the same time. The song is fun, the guitar is great, and I’d be shocked to hear a better song about someone getting deflowered.
“You’ll Never Leave Harlan Alive” – is the haunting, epic tale, about various generations of family that can’t quite escape the sad fate of the mining town they live in. It paints a sad, soulful picture of Appalachian life. It also happens (to date) to be my favorite country song.
Darrell Scott - scroll down to listen to “Helen of Troy, PA”
Friday, February 9, 2007
Scrantonicity - The Police "Live"
Real quick post in honor of last night’s episode of The Office. The first disc of the Police “Live” CD is a must-have, if you even remotely like the band (the second disc is only so-so). In previous posts, I’ve ranted about what good live music should consist of… suffice to say, this Boston show (from 1979) is one I would’ve killed to attend. A few quick things about why I love the police and why I love this album:
1. Sting – I think I have a total man-crush on him. Aside from being an amazing singer, song-writer, bassist, front man, humanitarian, and activist – he’s a fucking tantric sex god. The man is beyond words… and he’s not even my favorite member of the police.
2. Stewart Copeland – the band’s drummer is easily one of my favorite all-time drummers. The man is a machine. He’s precise and innovative and the backbone of one of the all-time great rock bands. On the live album you can hear what makes him so special – great fills, unique polyrhythmic beats, fantastic snare and hi-hat work, and some awesome ska and reggae inspired rhythms. I saw him perform with Les Claypool and Trey Anastatio, and while the show was kind of weird (what do you expect when Trey is playing a guitar made out of deer antlers?), I felt privileged just to see Copeland live and in person.
3. “EEEYO” – I never really get sick of hearing Sting’s “eeeyos” and “dah-duh-duh-duh’s” and this album is full of them. So definitely check it out… the link is below. Oh, did I mention that Sting is a huge fan of The Office and let us use all his music? Man-crush confirmed.
Live Police
1. Sting – I think I have a total man-crush on him. Aside from being an amazing singer, song-writer, bassist, front man, humanitarian, and activist – he’s a fucking tantric sex god. The man is beyond words… and he’s not even my favorite member of the police.
2. Stewart Copeland – the band’s drummer is easily one of my favorite all-time drummers. The man is a machine. He’s precise and innovative and the backbone of one of the all-time great rock bands. On the live album you can hear what makes him so special – great fills, unique polyrhythmic beats, fantastic snare and hi-hat work, and some awesome ska and reggae inspired rhythms. I saw him perform with Les Claypool and Trey Anastatio, and while the show was kind of weird (what do you expect when Trey is playing a guitar made out of deer antlers?), I felt privileged just to see Copeland live and in person.
3. “EEEYO” – I never really get sick of hearing Sting’s “eeeyos” and “dah-duh-duh-duh’s” and this album is full of them. So definitely check it out… the link is below. Oh, did I mention that Sting is a huge fan of The Office and let us use all his music? Man-crush confirmed.
Live Police
Hippies and Hipsters:The Worst! (Part 2 - Hipsters)
First, I just wanted to say how much I’m enjoying doing this – especially getting emails from people and seeing comments. I think college was the last time that I was really inundated with a wide variety of music. So it’s cool to get suggestions and have discussions and I encourage people to post more comments or even submit posts. I had fairly selfish intentions when I started (wasting time), but I would love for this to be a place where people can discover and discuss new music.
Oh, also, in response to a few people who posted about Phish, I’m inclined to agree that musical virtuosity doesn’t neccesarilly entail a good product, but perhaps that’s the joy of live Phish and improvisational music in general. Rather than reading a speech to the audience, the band attempts to have a conversation on stage; it may not be polished, often can be redundant or incomplete but every once in a while (See: “Wolfman’s Brother” on Slip, Stitch, and Pass), the back and forth between the musicians, creates something totally organic and unique, surprising even the band. To see musicians evolving before your very eyes and ears is something truly special. Improvisation at it’s finest is about just that. Now onto the hipsters:
I was wandering around Williamsburg, Brooklyn with my buddy Julian last year and we got to chatting about hipsters. For those of you who’ve never been there before, Williamsburg has become the gold standard in hipster hipness – Silver Lake, Wicker Park, and Portland are all jostling for the silver. Anyway, I asked Julian if he thought that a hipster would be insulted if you called them a hipster. He wasn’t sure, neither was I, but I think both of us shuddered at the thought of being considered one.
The hipster movement seems to parallel the Revenge of the Nerds trilogy. Think about it: hipsters were those kids in high school, who, having been ostracized by the jocks and cool kids, embraced non-conformity and developed their own funky style. Perhaps they suffered a bit in high school, but at least they had school musicals and tech. Then they went to college, and low and behold, lots of people in college weren’t the cool kids in high school. And much like the ending of the first two Revenge of the Nerds movies, the hipsters realized they outnumbered the cool kids and having that realization they were embraced by the masses, liberated, empowered, free to wear tight jeans and ugly sunglasses, and show off their tattoos. Then when hipsters graduated college, they congregated in hip little communities; they were now the cool kids. And much like Lewis in Revenge of the Nerds III (and the pigs in Animal Farm and pretty much any discriminated class that rises to power for that matter), now that the hipsters were cool, they turned up their noses and started shitting on all us regular Joes and Jills. Fucking hipsters.
That’s all well and good and I could really care less if I’m still a nerd and two years behind the fashion curve (It’s been that way since middle school). The problem is, hipsters are fucking up live music. Hippie music seems to be all about virtuoso musicians and jamming – innovation and originality seem to get lost along the way. Hipsters have the opposite problem. They put such a premium on unique, cutting edge music, that musicians seem to be focusing more on their sound then their abilities.
I’m not an indie rock junkie, but I’ve been to enough shows and listened to enough music over the past few years to both: really enjoy a band’s album and really hate them in concert. Live music is a beautiful thing when done right, but the indie rock scene (which prides itself on bands gaining a following due to their concerts) is helping to ruin it. Live music doesn’t have to be about improvisation, but it should at the very least cause me to have an emotional response to what I’m listening to. Whether it’s dancing, or a general sense of excitement, or being fired up, or being depressed – I should feel something at a concert. At far too many indie rocks shows, emotion is replaced with a dull swaying and numb feeling from drinking too many PBR’s.
The problem isn’t the music itself – it’s the people performing it. In a studio, with a producer and plenty of time, a band can with great vision but mediocre ability can achieve wonderful things. That same band struggles live. And yet the hipsters flock, rejoice, and proclaim their greatness… and then have the nerve to scoff at hippie and mainstream bands alike. Hipsters are perpetuating an environment where originality is valued and little else.
Now obviously there are exceptions to this. Christine got me into Built To Spill. Definitely an indie rock band, with an indie rock following, but the talent to put on a unique live show every night (My Morning Jacket is in the same vein). The ironic thing seems to be that if these much beloved hipster bands had a hippie following, hipsters would hate them (see the previous post for more on this).
I haven’t caught them live yet, but from what Christine and Vein and handful of other people tell me, the Decembrists manage to put on a great show, using a variety of theatrics and audience participation. I caught a Clap Your Hands Say Yeah show last year and was thoroughly impressed, not so much by their musicianship, but rather the sheer energy with which they played; it felt like seeing a real rock band, complete with a lead singer that had udder disdain for the crowd and was still beloved.
Still, a good live indie show seems few and far between. And maybe I’m demonstrating some serious ignorance here, after all, I don’t see enough shows and I’m probably not hip enough to know about some of the really cool bands. It’s hard you know, when you don’t have a myspace page and can’t become friends with three hundred indie bands. So perhaps this is more of a plea than anything else: please, educate my ignorant, un-cool ass. Show me some bands that will wow me if I see them live. If not, we’re approaching a scary time, one where I’d rather sit on my couch and listen to a band’s studio album, then go see them in concert.
Oh, also, in response to a few people who posted about Phish, I’m inclined to agree that musical virtuosity doesn’t neccesarilly entail a good product, but perhaps that’s the joy of live Phish and improvisational music in general. Rather than reading a speech to the audience, the band attempts to have a conversation on stage; it may not be polished, often can be redundant or incomplete but every once in a while (See: “Wolfman’s Brother” on Slip, Stitch, and Pass), the back and forth between the musicians, creates something totally organic and unique, surprising even the band. To see musicians evolving before your very eyes and ears is something truly special. Improvisation at it’s finest is about just that. Now onto the hipsters:
I was wandering around Williamsburg, Brooklyn with my buddy Julian last year and we got to chatting about hipsters. For those of you who’ve never been there before, Williamsburg has become the gold standard in hipster hipness – Silver Lake, Wicker Park, and Portland are all jostling for the silver. Anyway, I asked Julian if he thought that a hipster would be insulted if you called them a hipster. He wasn’t sure, neither was I, but I think both of us shuddered at the thought of being considered one.
The hipster movement seems to parallel the Revenge of the Nerds trilogy. Think about it: hipsters were those kids in high school, who, having been ostracized by the jocks and cool kids, embraced non-conformity and developed their own funky style. Perhaps they suffered a bit in high school, but at least they had school musicals and tech. Then they went to college, and low and behold, lots of people in college weren’t the cool kids in high school. And much like the ending of the first two Revenge of the Nerds movies, the hipsters realized they outnumbered the cool kids and having that realization they were embraced by the masses, liberated, empowered, free to wear tight jeans and ugly sunglasses, and show off their tattoos. Then when hipsters graduated college, they congregated in hip little communities; they were now the cool kids. And much like Lewis in Revenge of the Nerds III (and the pigs in Animal Farm and pretty much any discriminated class that rises to power for that matter), now that the hipsters were cool, they turned up their noses and started shitting on all us regular Joes and Jills. Fucking hipsters.
That’s all well and good and I could really care less if I’m still a nerd and two years behind the fashion curve (It’s been that way since middle school). The problem is, hipsters are fucking up live music. Hippie music seems to be all about virtuoso musicians and jamming – innovation and originality seem to get lost along the way. Hipsters have the opposite problem. They put such a premium on unique, cutting edge music, that musicians seem to be focusing more on their sound then their abilities.
I’m not an indie rock junkie, but I’ve been to enough shows and listened to enough music over the past few years to both: really enjoy a band’s album and really hate them in concert. Live music is a beautiful thing when done right, but the indie rock scene (which prides itself on bands gaining a following due to their concerts) is helping to ruin it. Live music doesn’t have to be about improvisation, but it should at the very least cause me to have an emotional response to what I’m listening to. Whether it’s dancing, or a general sense of excitement, or being fired up, or being depressed – I should feel something at a concert. At far too many indie rocks shows, emotion is replaced with a dull swaying and numb feeling from drinking too many PBR’s.
The problem isn’t the music itself – it’s the people performing it. In a studio, with a producer and plenty of time, a band can with great vision but mediocre ability can achieve wonderful things. That same band struggles live. And yet the hipsters flock, rejoice, and proclaim their greatness… and then have the nerve to scoff at hippie and mainstream bands alike. Hipsters are perpetuating an environment where originality is valued and little else.
Now obviously there are exceptions to this. Christine got me into Built To Spill. Definitely an indie rock band, with an indie rock following, but the talent to put on a unique live show every night (My Morning Jacket is in the same vein). The ironic thing seems to be that if these much beloved hipster bands had a hippie following, hipsters would hate them (see the previous post for more on this).
I haven’t caught them live yet, but from what Christine and Vein and handful of other people tell me, the Decembrists manage to put on a great show, using a variety of theatrics and audience participation. I caught a Clap Your Hands Say Yeah show last year and was thoroughly impressed, not so much by their musicianship, but rather the sheer energy with which they played; it felt like seeing a real rock band, complete with a lead singer that had udder disdain for the crowd and was still beloved.
Still, a good live indie show seems few and far between. And maybe I’m demonstrating some serious ignorance here, after all, I don’t see enough shows and I’m probably not hip enough to know about some of the really cool bands. It’s hard you know, when you don’t have a myspace page and can’t become friends with three hundred indie bands. So perhaps this is more of a plea than anything else: please, educate my ignorant, un-cool ass. Show me some bands that will wow me if I see them live. If not, we’re approaching a scary time, one where I’d rather sit on my couch and listen to a band’s studio album, then go see them in concert.
Wednesday, February 7, 2007
Hippies and Hipsters: The Worst! (Part 1 - Hippies)
My girlfriend and I have a running bit where we try and prove that the other one is a hippie. Christine is a hippie because she went to school in Eugene, makes skirts out of pillow cases she bought at the Salvation Army, and has more Grateful Dead songs on her iPod than I do. She says I'm a hippie because of my widely eclectic and vastly superior tastes in music -- most notably, my affinity for a small handful of "jam bands." I hate the expression "jam bands" almost as much as I hate hippies.
And no, I'm not talking about the 60's hippie. This is a discussion about music and not politics. I've got no beef with the 60's hippie's preference in music. Instead, I want to discuss the modern hippie and how they've managed to tarnish the reputations of a few bands that I love. Whether they're cynical, elitist, naive, apathetic, and/or just plain smelly, the modern hippie is the worst.
(Note: I need to set politics aside when I discuss the modern hippie -- otherwise I'll become enraged. While I generally side with leftists, the modern hippie's plan for changing the world constitutes: smoking copious amounts of weed and from what I can tell, little else. Having knowledge of society's ills and the means to change them, but doing nothing about it, is almost as repugnant as moving out to LA to pursue sitcom writing as a profession.)
The modern hippie loves "jam bands." For modern hippies, the draw of the jam band is a unique live experience every time you see a band. That, in of itself, sounds like a wonderful thing. In practice, it has created a market for bands that seemingly can only be enjoyed if the people who see them are high. Here's a good general rule: (The Acid Tests aside) if you need to be fucked up to enjoy a band, what they're playing probably isn't very good. I'm not saying the musicians playing the music are lousy, rather, their product seems to be either cliché, boring, and/or exhausting. The ability to play a song for fifteen minutes or more does not make the song or the band worth seeing live. Over the past couple days I forced myself to listen to the "jam on" station on my Sirius radio and not change the channel, in an attempt to do some research for this blog. In the eight months prior, I have never successfully gotten through a song by the following bands: Moe, Widespread Panic, Umphry's McGee, Tea Leaf Green, Railroad Earth, The Breakfast, and a handful of other jam bands that seem to be beloved by the modern hippie.
So what's the problem? Why not let the modern hippie have their stoner music in peace? Well, the problem is, the modern hippie also loves some really good bands and their association with these bands, seems to ruin the band's reputation and dissuade non-hippies from giving them a chance. Take Robert Randolph. He's the best steel petal guitar player in the world; his concerts, something like a gospel show on speed, are so good they make this Jew want to convert. Yet, his hippie following seems to immediately delegitimize his reputation as a great musician.
The same is true with two jazz/fusion trios, The Bad Plus and Medeski, Martin, and Wood. The Bad Plus is doing some revolutionary stuff in jazz with their melodic in your face piano and accessibility of their contemporary pop covers. MMW, perhaps the opposite of accessible, has infused Afro rhythms and electronica into the classic jazz trio structure. Innovators in a musical genre of innovation, these two groups have the jam band stigma attached because far too many of the people attending their shows are stoned out of their gourd. It's almost as if, people outside the hippie community see the correlation between drugs and music and assume it must be crap if the bulk of the people enjoying the show are high.
The ultimate example of this seems to be Phish. I still love Phish and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Now, I hear them shit upon (by hipsters in particular... but that's part 2) more often than other "jam band." Why? People can no longer separate the music from the modern hippie twirling to it.
Top 3 things I hate about Phish heads:
1. They think there's some deep meaning to the songs. In reality, the lyrics, written by Tom Marshall, are generally bits and pieces of poems Marshall has written, cut and pasted together by the band to fit the song.
2. Their belief that Phish is start of and end all of great music. Come on! They're a great band, but really?! You don't want to expand your horizons a little (and no, the String Cheese Incident doesn't count as expanding your horizons).
3.There's an old joke I like, "How do you starve a Phish Head? Hide their parent's credit card underneath a bar of soap." That sums up number 3 pretty well.
Top 3 things that make me not ashamed to love Phish:
1. The band was composed of four incredibly versatile and talented musicians. Innovators, the band was prolific in a variety of genres including: rock, funk, jazz, blues, folk, bluegrass, heavy metal, acoustic, and even classical (Trey Anastatio wrote and conducted a symphony a few years ago).
2. The band developed their sound in the eighties. They seemingly rejected all of the trends in music of the time. Comparisons to the Grateful Dead fall flat -- their sound had more in common with Traffic. As they developed their chops, experimented, and meshed, the band created a distinctive sound, often imitated (by other jam bands) but never recreated. It was something totally original.
3. Having been to a good number of shows, I can safely say that every show was a unique and enjoyable live experience.
Now that being said, I won't go so far to say everyone should enjoy Phish. Obviously that's not the case. They're lousy singers, they have weak lyrics, some of their songs are painfully boring and/or annoying, and the patience to appreciate a band improvise for fifteen minutes is not something everyone possesses. So, not liking Phish is fine, but saying they're a shitty band is silly and demonstrates some serious musical ignorance. If you don't like jam bands, okay, but please, I implore you to withhold judgment on bands until you actually listen to the music. Don't let the fact that hippies like the music discourage you from giving it a shot. Don't be that stuck up hipster who turns up their nose at the very mention of a "jam band." (more on hipsters in part 2)
And no, I'm not talking about the 60's hippie. This is a discussion about music and not politics. I've got no beef with the 60's hippie's preference in music. Instead, I want to discuss the modern hippie and how they've managed to tarnish the reputations of a few bands that I love. Whether they're cynical, elitist, naive, apathetic, and/or just plain smelly, the modern hippie is the worst.
(Note: I need to set politics aside when I discuss the modern hippie -- otherwise I'll become enraged. While I generally side with leftists, the modern hippie's plan for changing the world constitutes: smoking copious amounts of weed and from what I can tell, little else. Having knowledge of society's ills and the means to change them, but doing nothing about it, is almost as repugnant as moving out to LA to pursue sitcom writing as a profession.)
The modern hippie loves "jam bands." For modern hippies, the draw of the jam band is a unique live experience every time you see a band. That, in of itself, sounds like a wonderful thing. In practice, it has created a market for bands that seemingly can only be enjoyed if the people who see them are high. Here's a good general rule: (The Acid Tests aside) if you need to be fucked up to enjoy a band, what they're playing probably isn't very good. I'm not saying the musicians playing the music are lousy, rather, their product seems to be either cliché, boring, and/or exhausting. The ability to play a song for fifteen minutes or more does not make the song or the band worth seeing live. Over the past couple days I forced myself to listen to the "jam on" station on my Sirius radio and not change the channel, in an attempt to do some research for this blog. In the eight months prior, I have never successfully gotten through a song by the following bands: Moe, Widespread Panic, Umphry's McGee, Tea Leaf Green, Railroad Earth, The Breakfast, and a handful of other jam bands that seem to be beloved by the modern hippie.
So what's the problem? Why not let the modern hippie have their stoner music in peace? Well, the problem is, the modern hippie also loves some really good bands and their association with these bands, seems to ruin the band's reputation and dissuade non-hippies from giving them a chance. Take Robert Randolph. He's the best steel petal guitar player in the world; his concerts, something like a gospel show on speed, are so good they make this Jew want to convert. Yet, his hippie following seems to immediately delegitimize his reputation as a great musician.
The same is true with two jazz/fusion trios, The Bad Plus and Medeski, Martin, and Wood. The Bad Plus is doing some revolutionary stuff in jazz with their melodic in your face piano and accessibility of their contemporary pop covers. MMW, perhaps the opposite of accessible, has infused Afro rhythms and electronica into the classic jazz trio structure. Innovators in a musical genre of innovation, these two groups have the jam band stigma attached because far too many of the people attending their shows are stoned out of their gourd. It's almost as if, people outside the hippie community see the correlation between drugs and music and assume it must be crap if the bulk of the people enjoying the show are high.
The ultimate example of this seems to be Phish. I still love Phish and I'm not ashamed to admit it. Now, I hear them shit upon (by hipsters in particular... but that's part 2) more often than other "jam band." Why? People can no longer separate the music from the modern hippie twirling to it.
Top 3 things I hate about Phish heads:
1. They think there's some deep meaning to the songs. In reality, the lyrics, written by Tom Marshall, are generally bits and pieces of poems Marshall has written, cut and pasted together by the band to fit the song.
2. Their belief that Phish is start of and end all of great music. Come on! They're a great band, but really?! You don't want to expand your horizons a little (and no, the String Cheese Incident doesn't count as expanding your horizons).
3.There's an old joke I like, "How do you starve a Phish Head? Hide their parent's credit card underneath a bar of soap." That sums up number 3 pretty well.
Top 3 things that make me not ashamed to love Phish:
1. The band was composed of four incredibly versatile and talented musicians. Innovators, the band was prolific in a variety of genres including: rock, funk, jazz, blues, folk, bluegrass, heavy metal, acoustic, and even classical (Trey Anastatio wrote and conducted a symphony a few years ago).
2. The band developed their sound in the eighties. They seemingly rejected all of the trends in music of the time. Comparisons to the Grateful Dead fall flat -- their sound had more in common with Traffic. As they developed their chops, experimented, and meshed, the band created a distinctive sound, often imitated (by other jam bands) but never recreated. It was something totally original.
3. Having been to a good number of shows, I can safely say that every show was a unique and enjoyable live experience.
Now that being said, I won't go so far to say everyone should enjoy Phish. Obviously that's not the case. They're lousy singers, they have weak lyrics, some of their songs are painfully boring and/or annoying, and the patience to appreciate a band improvise for fifteen minutes is not something everyone possesses. So, not liking Phish is fine, but saying they're a shitty band is silly and demonstrates some serious musical ignorance. If you don't like jam bands, okay, but please, I implore you to withhold judgment on bands until you actually listen to the music. Don't let the fact that hippies like the music discourage you from giving it a shot. Don't be that stuck up hipster who turns up their nose at the very mention of a "jam band." (more on hipsters in part 2)
"Yes, Yes Y'all" - Sergio Mendes
This is far and away the best track from Sergio Mendes' most recent album, "Timeless." For those who don't know Mendes, he's a Brazilian piano player, probably best known for the track, "Mas Que Nada," which was featured on a Nike commercial involving the Brazilian Men's soccer team. Calling the album a Sergio Mendes album is a bit of a stretch. While he does play piano on every track, the creative force (for better or worse) behind the album is producer will.i.am (of the Black Eyed Peas and just about everywhere in pop music). He loads the album with a who's who of hip-hop and pop music: Justin Timberlake, Erykah Badu, Stevie Wonder, Jill Scott, and on "Yes, Yes Y'all," - The Root's Black Thought and Jurassic 5's Charlie Tuna.
While I'm not totally crazy about will.i.am, either as a producer or MC, he definitely scores on this track. Mendes' Latin piano combined with some pretty basic drums and background vocals, is the perfect backdrop for the three MC's to rhyme over. I won't break down their lyrics too much; they're not really saying anything of consequence. Essentially you have three really polished MC's (Charlie Tuna having perhaps the coolest voice of any man on the planet and Black Thought being my favorite MC) rapping about hanging out with one another in Brazil. It's one of the chillest hip-hope tracks you'll ever hear. We've had a few parties and every time this has come on, people start bobbing their head to song and ask me what it is. Unfortunately, the rest of the album is hit or miss. Check it out.
TIMELESS
While I'm not totally crazy about will.i.am, either as a producer or MC, he definitely scores on this track. Mendes' Latin piano combined with some pretty basic drums and background vocals, is the perfect backdrop for the three MC's to rhyme over. I won't break down their lyrics too much; they're not really saying anything of consequence. Essentially you have three really polished MC's (Charlie Tuna having perhaps the coolest voice of any man on the planet and Black Thought being my favorite MC) rapping about hanging out with one another in Brazil. It's one of the chillest hip-hope tracks you'll ever hear. We've had a few parties and every time this has come on, people start bobbing their head to song and ask me what it is. Unfortunately, the rest of the album is hit or miss. Check it out.
TIMELESS
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
Wasted Days
This is my way of wasting time at work. I should be writing. Instead, I'm blogging. Which is like writing, except worthless and even more narcissistic. I don't know why anyone would care about my opinions, particularly those on music, yet I feel compelled to share them with all of you.
The blog title is not only a reference to the amount of time I imagine wasting while doing this, but also a homage to the title track of an album by The Slackers. For those who haven't heard The Slackers before, I highly recommend you check them out. In my mind, they’re the best ska band on the planet. I know many of you hear the word "ska" and think late 90's No Doubt, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and Reel Big Fish -- they were the staples of the brief period in which ska music received mainstream radio play. They also have a stigma of being a bit cheesy and dated. I can assure you, The Slackers are neither cheesy nor dated.
I guess they're part of the third wave of ska (think the aforementioned bands, The Toasters, Operation Ivy, Sublime, etc.), but they draw pretty heavily on the first wave ska and rocksteady. Like most classic reggae, rocksteady, and ska, their sound is punctuated by syncopated guitar and walking basslines. Their saxophonist and trombonist are top notch. And their lead singer and piano player (Vic Ruggiero) is about as good of a front man as any band I've seen in the past couple years. They have an old school fifties rock and roll vibe to their sound. Think about the music coming out of the jukebox at a soda fountain in the fifties and then add a dash of reggae and some badass horns and that's pretty much The Slacker's sound.
They put on an incredible live show. I've seen them twice in the past year at The Troubadour (In my opinion, the best place to see live music in LA) and I was blown away not only by their obvious talent, but also, how much fun a ska show could be.
I should mention that my buddy Vein turned me onto The Slackers. Vein has probably turned me onto more bands than anyone I know and I'm sure he'd be annoyed if I didn't give him some credit. Vein, thanks for having some really good taste in music and some really bad taste in style -- get a haircut you hippie. If you want, you can catch his reggae show every Thursday from 1-4 (EST) on WERW 1570 AM (www.werw.org).
The blog title is not only a reference to the amount of time I imagine wasting while doing this, but also a homage to the title track of an album by The Slackers. For those who haven't heard The Slackers before, I highly recommend you check them out. In my mind, they’re the best ska band on the planet. I know many of you hear the word "ska" and think late 90's No Doubt, The Mighty Mighty Bosstones, and Reel Big Fish -- they were the staples of the brief period in which ska music received mainstream radio play. They also have a stigma of being a bit cheesy and dated. I can assure you, The Slackers are neither cheesy nor dated.
I guess they're part of the third wave of ska (think the aforementioned bands, The Toasters, Operation Ivy, Sublime, etc.), but they draw pretty heavily on the first wave ska and rocksteady. Like most classic reggae, rocksteady, and ska, their sound is punctuated by syncopated guitar and walking basslines. Their saxophonist and trombonist are top notch. And their lead singer and piano player (Vic Ruggiero) is about as good of a front man as any band I've seen in the past couple years. They have an old school fifties rock and roll vibe to their sound. Think about the music coming out of the jukebox at a soda fountain in the fifties and then add a dash of reggae and some badass horns and that's pretty much The Slacker's sound.
They put on an incredible live show. I've seen them twice in the past year at The Troubadour (In my opinion, the best place to see live music in LA) and I was blown away not only by their obvious talent, but also, how much fun a ska show could be.
I should mention that my buddy Vein turned me onto The Slackers. Vein has probably turned me onto more bands than anyone I know and I'm sure he'd be annoyed if I didn't give him some credit. Vein, thanks for having some really good taste in music and some really bad taste in style -- get a haircut you hippie. If you want, you can catch his reggae show every Thursday from 1-4 (EST) on WERW 1570 AM (www.werw.org).
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