I like throwing parties for one reason and one reason alone: I get to make the playlist. I can’t begin to tell you how often I go to parties and there is virtually no thought given to the music getting played. Okay, that may be an exaggeration. I rarely get invited to parties, but often, when my neighbors throw them and I walk by, I can tell the music sucks and I’m happy they didn’t invite me, because I don’t need to go to their really fun, raucous party if they’re going to play lame music. Screw them.
Anyway, Christine and I had a little shindig this past weekend. (I won’t call it a barbeque, because my Southern friend, James, pointed out, that if I’m not smoking the meat, I’m just “grilling out.”) From what I remember, it was a pretty good time. My memory is poor though. I used a margarita recipe my friend Katie recommended: one can of frozen concentrated limeade, one can of tequila, and three light beers… originally it was two, but I had to dilute it somehow. That surprisingly tasty and obviously strong recipe, which I nicknamed “the marga-ruffie,” along with my playlist pretty much ensured that I was going to have fun even if no one else did.
The way you shape a playlist depends on the type of atmosphere you’re trying to set. If you’re having a wine and cheese Christmas party, perhaps jazz and/or bossa nova is more appropriate than hardcore rap. In the case of a late afternoon/evening bbq (fuck James, I’m not from the South), you’re looking for music chill enough that people can talk, but interesting and upbeat enough to keep people drinking and having fun. Songs longer than five minutes are automatically excluded. As are songs with long intros or outros (think Wu Tang Clan’s Method Man intro… it’s torture mother fucker if you have to listen to that at a party). Instrumental music is something I love, but another no-no for party mixes.
My bbq mix was about 40% hip-hop (The Roots, A Tribe Called Quest, Common, Kanye West, Blackstar, Jay-Z, etc.) Maybe 25% of the mix is high energy indie rock (Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, The White Stripes, Modest Mouse, The Fiery Furnaces, The Arcade Fire, etc.) The remaining third of the playlist is split up evenly between ska/reggae (The Slackers, Bob Andy, Bob Marley, Jimmy Cliff, etc.), classics (Bob Dylan, The Police, The Rolling Stones, David Bowie, etc.) and a variety of stuff I was hoping people had never heard, but would be impressed enough to ask you about. (I’ve mentioned many of these bands in the past, but: Aberfeldy, Le Tigre, Andrew Bird, Darrel Scott, Little Brother, Ms. Dynamite, Okerrvil River, Pinback, Sergio Mendes, Vic Ruggerio, etc.) (With that setup, I could pretty much leave my iPod on shuffle and feel confident that the music would flow nicely all night.)
Whether or not anyone liked the music enough to ask me about it or just enjoyed the music at all, is unclear. Again, “marga-ruffies” lead to trouble, trouble which I have very little recollection of. But that was the goal, and whether or not anyone else enjoyed the music as much as I did, I’m fairly confident that I spent a good part of the night nodding along to the music in that way that white boys who truly lack rhythm always do. And the neighbors, who were invited, but were apparently too cool to show up, were very jealous and sad that they didn't come by… at least in my head.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Thursday, July 19, 2007
The Sweet Smell of Burnt Cocaine
Okay, this is totally late, but I don’t care. I can’t think of anything else to write about and it’s totally worth talking about.
Christine and I went to the Hollywood Bowl a few weeks ago and caught The Decemberists playing with the LA Philharmonic. And it was awesome! More on that shortly.
First, the Hollywood Bowl is the coolest place in the world to see a large, outdoor concert. This I’m convinced of, despite having only been to maybe a dozen or so outdoor concert venues. It’s so fucking cool though! We parked at Hollywood and Highland (where the Academy Awards are held), walked through the heart of tourist central Hollywood and arrived at the bowl, a veritable oasis in the heart of urban tourist sprawl. Before taking our seats, we sat with some of Christine’s friends and chatted with them at a picnic table while they drank wine and ate tasty snacks. Then we walked to our seats, opened the bottle of Chianti we brought, and dug into our picnic dinner. Apparently, if the LA Philharmonic is present, you can bring wine and beer into the Hollywood Bowl, no questions asked. And that is so fucking cool! Plus you’re in this amazing, gigantic, yet somehow intimate concert space, and there’s virtually no indication that you’re anywhere near Hollywood. It’s just hills and trees and vegetation surrounding you. You quickly forget where you are and manage to focus all your senses on tasty wine and fantastic music. I love the Hollywood Bowl. I can’t stress that enough.
A Band Of Horses was the first opener. They’re good. Christine likes them a lot. I thought the Bowl was too big of a venue for them, but they were nice. I honestly don’t have too much to say about them. They seemed good (I know I said that already), but I was focused on wine and picnic dinners and people watching and taking in the sheer beauty of the bowl. I can’t stress how cool it is there.
Next up was Andrew Bird. A guy I worked with when I first came out to LA, was kind enough to make me an incredible mix that featured a Andrew Bird song on it, so I got to be really cool, and tell everyone ahead of time how excited I was to see him, even though I’d only heard about a half-dozen of his songs. I was right though. He’s ridiculous. If you haven’t heard Andrew Bird, you should… especially if you can catch him live. He plays alongside a drummer and bass player (or at least he did on this night). Andrew Bird plays the violin (incredibly well), loops it with a foot petal, whistles , loops that with a foot petal, then picks up the guitar and plays that. Then puts down the guitar and picks back up the violin. Then he whistles some more and somewhere along the ride, he sings too. And he does it all so well. I have trouble describing his style. To say he’s a singer/songwriter who plays violin and loops samples just doesn’t seem to do him justice. To say that after seeing him perform a 45 minute set, I was convinced there was no way The Decemberists playing with the LA Philharmonic could possibly be as impressive as he was, probably is a better testament to how awesome he was. If you don’t believe me, check this out.
I was wrong by the way. The whole, ‘there’s no way The Decemeberists could be as good as Andrew Bird’ thing. Yeah, I was an idiot, because The Decemberists with the LA Philharmonic was one of the coolest things, I’ve ever seen or heard. I’m not going to go song by song and explain every nuance of the show, just a few highlights instead.
They opened with “The Crane Wife, parts 1 and 2.” From the first few notes that the Philharmonic played, I knew I was in for a treat. And moments later when I heard several string players hit a chord in unison and the big bassy French horn kick in, I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. It’s so rare that music surprises me, tickles me, touches me. Watching an incredible band play really sophisticated songs with the help of one of the nations best symphonies is a quite simply a treat, and I wasn’t quite ready for what I was about to hear. The songs were so well-orchestrated, so layered, so pleasing to my ears, I couldn’t help but laugh and laugh; it seemed the only sensible thing to do.
My other favorite moment of the show came when the crowd greeted the band with raucous approval as they launched into “Los Angeles, I’m Yours.” For those of you not to familiar with The Decemberists, “Lose Angeles, I’m Yours” is perhaps the single most beautiful tribute to the city I call home; it also happens to be a scathing rant about everything that makes LA such a deplorable place. Christine informed me that people in LA love songs about how awful LA is. And why not? Everyone here is from somewhere else, there’s no attachment to this city, no hometown pride; it’s cool to turn up our collective noses at a city a renowned for neon dreams, materialism, and greed. On this night, some 17,000 fans collectively celebrated our home by cheering along to a song that actively shits on it.
In the past I’ve written about the things I enjoy in live music: technical virtuosity, energy, hearing something unique – something that may never be recreated, and surprises. Suffice to say, this show had it all. (Here’s a link to a video of them playing “The Infanta.” I don’t think it quite does the sound justice… although it pretty well mimics my view.) Did I mention I love the Hollywood Bowl?
Christine and I went to the Hollywood Bowl a few weeks ago and caught The Decemberists playing with the LA Philharmonic. And it was awesome! More on that shortly.
First, the Hollywood Bowl is the coolest place in the world to see a large, outdoor concert. This I’m convinced of, despite having only been to maybe a dozen or so outdoor concert venues. It’s so fucking cool though! We parked at Hollywood and Highland (where the Academy Awards are held), walked through the heart of tourist central Hollywood and arrived at the bowl, a veritable oasis in the heart of urban tourist sprawl. Before taking our seats, we sat with some of Christine’s friends and chatted with them at a picnic table while they drank wine and ate tasty snacks. Then we walked to our seats, opened the bottle of Chianti we brought, and dug into our picnic dinner. Apparently, if the LA Philharmonic is present, you can bring wine and beer into the Hollywood Bowl, no questions asked. And that is so fucking cool! Plus you’re in this amazing, gigantic, yet somehow intimate concert space, and there’s virtually no indication that you’re anywhere near Hollywood. It’s just hills and trees and vegetation surrounding you. You quickly forget where you are and manage to focus all your senses on tasty wine and fantastic music. I love the Hollywood Bowl. I can’t stress that enough.
A Band Of Horses was the first opener. They’re good. Christine likes them a lot. I thought the Bowl was too big of a venue for them, but they were nice. I honestly don’t have too much to say about them. They seemed good (I know I said that already), but I was focused on wine and picnic dinners and people watching and taking in the sheer beauty of the bowl. I can’t stress how cool it is there.
Next up was Andrew Bird. A guy I worked with when I first came out to LA, was kind enough to make me an incredible mix that featured a Andrew Bird song on it, so I got to be really cool, and tell everyone ahead of time how excited I was to see him, even though I’d only heard about a half-dozen of his songs. I was right though. He’s ridiculous. If you haven’t heard Andrew Bird, you should… especially if you can catch him live. He plays alongside a drummer and bass player (or at least he did on this night). Andrew Bird plays the violin (incredibly well), loops it with a foot petal, whistles , loops that with a foot petal, then picks up the guitar and plays that. Then puts down the guitar and picks back up the violin. Then he whistles some more and somewhere along the ride, he sings too. And he does it all so well. I have trouble describing his style. To say he’s a singer/songwriter who plays violin and loops samples just doesn’t seem to do him justice. To say that after seeing him perform a 45 minute set, I was convinced there was no way The Decemberists playing with the LA Philharmonic could possibly be as impressive as he was, probably is a better testament to how awesome he was. If you don’t believe me, check this out.
I was wrong by the way. The whole, ‘there’s no way The Decemeberists could be as good as Andrew Bird’ thing. Yeah, I was an idiot, because The Decemberists with the LA Philharmonic was one of the coolest things, I’ve ever seen or heard. I’m not going to go song by song and explain every nuance of the show, just a few highlights instead.
They opened with “The Crane Wife, parts 1 and 2.” From the first few notes that the Philharmonic played, I knew I was in for a treat. And moments later when I heard several string players hit a chord in unison and the big bassy French horn kick in, I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically. It’s so rare that music surprises me, tickles me, touches me. Watching an incredible band play really sophisticated songs with the help of one of the nations best symphonies is a quite simply a treat, and I wasn’t quite ready for what I was about to hear. The songs were so well-orchestrated, so layered, so pleasing to my ears, I couldn’t help but laugh and laugh; it seemed the only sensible thing to do.
My other favorite moment of the show came when the crowd greeted the band with raucous approval as they launched into “Los Angeles, I’m Yours.” For those of you not to familiar with The Decemberists, “Lose Angeles, I’m Yours” is perhaps the single most beautiful tribute to the city I call home; it also happens to be a scathing rant about everything that makes LA such a deplorable place. Christine informed me that people in LA love songs about how awful LA is. And why not? Everyone here is from somewhere else, there’s no attachment to this city, no hometown pride; it’s cool to turn up our collective noses at a city a renowned for neon dreams, materialism, and greed. On this night, some 17,000 fans collectively celebrated our home by cheering along to a song that actively shits on it.
In the past I’ve written about the things I enjoy in live music: technical virtuosity, energy, hearing something unique – something that may never be recreated, and surprises. Suffice to say, this show had it all. (Here’s a link to a video of them playing “The Infanta.” I don’t think it quite does the sound justice… although it pretty well mimics my view.) Did I mention I love the Hollywood Bowl?
Thursday, July 5, 2007
Pandora's Juke Box
It’s quite possible that I’m not on the cutting edge of this. In fact, I’m almost certain everyone already knows about this. But on the off chance that some of you out there are as incredibly un-hip as I am, I’m here to preach to you about a website that is a true godsend. Cali’s husband, Paul, turned me onto this a week ago and I quickly became a believer. Pandora.com. I repeat: Pandora.com. Now say, “Amen!” and “Hallelujah!”
The website is simple: Start by either entering the name of band or song you like. If you enter a band, Pandora will play a song from that band and give you a description of the music. For example, I typed in “The Roots,” and Pandora played “Love of My Life” off “The Roots Come Alive.” Pandora told me The Roots are characterized by, “hardcore rap influence, east coast rap roots, funk influences, syncopated beats, and duo rapping.” Based on those characteristics, Pandora then automatically created a playlist for me. Next up was “Grown Man Sport” by INI, featuring, “east coast rap roots, heavy backbeat, swingin’ beats, group rap arrangements, and jazzy hooks.” Then “The Easy Spell” by Mos Def. Then “Doo Rags” by Nas. “Proceed 2” by The Roots. “Militia (Pete Rock Remix) by Gangstar. And so on… For each song, I could give a thumbs up or down, based on whether I liked it. A thumbs up and they continue to play similar stuff including that song, a thumbs down and they shift the playlist in a different direction. You can pause, skip tracks (although a limited number in an hour), but not fast-forward or rewind within the song. If you enter a song at the original prompt, you go through a similar process, except, instead of playing that song, they’ll play a similar sounding song. If you type in “Stairway To Heaven,” they might play something like Aerosmith’s “Dream On.”
It gets better. If you sign up for a FREE account, you can have up to 100 different selections (bands or songs) to make playlists from (and Pandora remembers them all and your preferences). You can combine all of those different “playlists” and Pandora will automatically form a “quick mix” incorporating music from whatever you select… whether it be 10 bands or 100. Basically, it’s like setting your iTunes library on random, only, your library is like a million times bigger. And yes, obviously it’s not the most convenient way to listen to music, but considering the possibility, nay, probability of broadening your knowledge of music, the few quarks seem well-worth it. So do yourself a favor and check this puppy out.
The website is simple: Start by either entering the name of band or song you like. If you enter a band, Pandora will play a song from that band and give you a description of the music. For example, I typed in “The Roots,” and Pandora played “Love of My Life” off “The Roots Come Alive.” Pandora told me The Roots are characterized by, “hardcore rap influence, east coast rap roots, funk influences, syncopated beats, and duo rapping.” Based on those characteristics, Pandora then automatically created a playlist for me. Next up was “Grown Man Sport” by INI, featuring, “east coast rap roots, heavy backbeat, swingin’ beats, group rap arrangements, and jazzy hooks.” Then “The Easy Spell” by Mos Def. Then “Doo Rags” by Nas. “Proceed 2” by The Roots. “Militia (Pete Rock Remix) by Gangstar. And so on… For each song, I could give a thumbs up or down, based on whether I liked it. A thumbs up and they continue to play similar stuff including that song, a thumbs down and they shift the playlist in a different direction. You can pause, skip tracks (although a limited number in an hour), but not fast-forward or rewind within the song. If you enter a song at the original prompt, you go through a similar process, except, instead of playing that song, they’ll play a similar sounding song. If you type in “Stairway To Heaven,” they might play something like Aerosmith’s “Dream On.”
It gets better. If you sign up for a FREE account, you can have up to 100 different selections (bands or songs) to make playlists from (and Pandora remembers them all and your preferences). You can combine all of those different “playlists” and Pandora will automatically form a “quick mix” incorporating music from whatever you select… whether it be 10 bands or 100. Basically, it’s like setting your iTunes library on random, only, your library is like a million times bigger. And yes, obviously it’s not the most convenient way to listen to music, but considering the possibility, nay, probability of broadening your knowledge of music, the few quarks seem well-worth it. So do yourself a favor and check this puppy out.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Emmit Otter's Jug Band Christmas
Christine and I drove up the coast, along Highway 1, to San Francisco a couple of weeks ago. If you live in California and you’ve never done this drive I highly recommend it. The scenery, especially around Big Sur, humbled me. Prior to the scenic stretch of the drive, Christine and I entertained ourselves with a surprisingly fun game, that I was unsurprisingly bad at. We tuned my Sirius satellite radio to the indie rock station and played a modified version of “Name That Tune.” Christine, who listens to “Morning Becomes Eclectic” on a near daily basis, kicked my ass. But the surprising thing was how much music neither of us had ever heard of. I mean for every Decembrists or Modest Mouse song, there seemed to be three or four by artists like Art Brut (eh), Bear Hands (Modest Mousy), Bees (Really chill, cool stuff), Kings of Leon (Big ups Anthony – you were right, really good stuff), and a handful of other indie bands I’ve never heard and can’t remember. So aside from keeping Christine awake and laughing at my ignorance, we both ended up getting a pretty good education.
Our last night in San Francisco, my friend Marcia took us out to a wonderful hole-in-the-wall, in the Mission District. It was the Tamale Lady’s birthday party. Who is the Tamale Lady you ask? Well, apparently around the Mission and Lower Haight, she’s pretty famous for dropping by bars late night and selling tamales to drunk, hungry patrons. To honor her, we paid ten bucks for dinner and a few hours of some (all you could drink) tasty San Fran microbrew (whose name escapes me, although let me recommend almost anything by Russian River, especially Pliny the Elder, and also the Racer 5 IPA). To top the evening off, the birthday celebration, which took place mostly outside on an expansive patio, featured a jug band.
An honest to god, real life, actual jug band. Complete with jug player, washboard percussion, spoons, kazoo, and washtub bass. It was quite a sight for these drunken eyes, and surprisingly enjoyable to listen to with these drunken ears. The kind of music I wanted to hoot and holler to. And you know what? I did. Stood up and clapped and banged around, and then promptly sat down when I realized I was the only one doing it. It was a good trip.
Our last night in San Francisco, my friend Marcia took us out to a wonderful hole-in-the-wall, in the Mission District. It was the Tamale Lady’s birthday party. Who is the Tamale Lady you ask? Well, apparently around the Mission and Lower Haight, she’s pretty famous for dropping by bars late night and selling tamales to drunk, hungry patrons. To honor her, we paid ten bucks for dinner and a few hours of some (all you could drink) tasty San Fran microbrew (whose name escapes me, although let me recommend almost anything by Russian River, especially Pliny the Elder, and also the Racer 5 IPA). To top the evening off, the birthday celebration, which took place mostly outside on an expansive patio, featured a jug band.
An honest to god, real life, actual jug band. Complete with jug player, washboard percussion, spoons, kazoo, and washtub bass. It was quite a sight for these drunken eyes, and surprisingly enjoyable to listen to with these drunken ears. The kind of music I wanted to hoot and holler to. And you know what? I did. Stood up and clapped and banged around, and then promptly sat down when I realized I was the only one doing it. It was a good trip.
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