Merry Christmas

Ryan Adams live tracks

It's no secret I'm a big Ryan Adams fan, and it's been a good year to be one, with the release of Easy Tiger and a U.S. tour. Even though his newfound sobriety apparently hasn't made him much more of a pleasant person to be around, I thoroughly enjoyed his 3 1/2-hour show here in Columbus other than some self-indulgent jams.

I recently got my hands on a copy of the Cardinals' set from the Fillmore at the TLA in Philadelphia in June, and there's some killer tracks from that night as well. As a little holiday treat, here's a rocking version of "Bartering Lines" (Heartbreaker) from the show, as well as "Please Do Not Let Me Go" (Love is Hell).

mp3: Ryan Adams & The Cardinals - Bartering Lines
mp3: Ryan Adams & The Cardinals - Please Do Not Let Me Go

Okkervil River - Free EP

I've become a big fan of Okkervil River in the past year, mostly because of this year's The Stage Names, which ended up as No. 2 on my best of 2007 list. Earlier in the year, Daytrotter made its session with band available for complimentary download (which is still available), and now the band is giving us more free tunes in the form of Golden Opportunities, a mixtape of mostly live covers recorded on the band's 2006-07 tour. There are tunes by Joni Mitchell, John Cale and an original called "Listening to Otis Redding at Home During Christmas." Download the entire EP for free here.

Silverchair - Newport, 12-7

Silverchair comes from the land down under, and the band has pretty much stayed there the past 10 years. In 1995 its grunge debut, Frogstomp, was released when singer/guitarist Daniel Johns, bassist Chris Joannou and drummer Ben Gillies were only 15. Epic signed Silverchair after the band won some studio time from a radio station contest. Little did they know that studio time would spawn a multiplatinum album and a number-one single--“Tomorrow,” that flannel anthem about a fat boy who for some reason must wait till tomorrow.

“Pure Massacre,” the second single, did reasonably well, and singles from releases in ’97 and ’99 made small splashes here and there throughout the U.S. But for the most part, Silverchair fell off most people’s radars as grunge did the same. In Australia, it’s a different story. The band is the most successful rock band the country has ever seen, garnering five number-one albums. The boys continued making music and each album showed a new facet of Silverchair, improving on the previous release. This year’s Young Modern is getting rave reviews.

As it turns out, the radio contest wasn’t a fluke. The band really is talented. Who knew? (Well, I guess Australia did.)

It became apparent quickly on Friday night that Johns is used to being a rock sensation. He treated the Newport as if it were a giant arena that could only be filled by his rock-star posturing in a tuxedo vest (he shed his sport coat only three songs into the set). Luckily for him, he has an incredible voice and a fair amount of good songs to go with it. Gone is the Stone Temple Pilots, pickle-in-the-mouth grunge voice. Johns has a clean, powerful rock voice with quite an impressive range, as well as a pleasant if not overused falsetto. He puts Eddie Vedder and even Chris Cornell to shame. Johns is the pretty-boy theatrical type, which can get annoying, but he frequently put it aside to establish a good rapport with the crowd.

Lyrically, Silverchair has come a long way, but there’s still some tunes that are slightly cringe-worthy. “The Greatest View” stood out as an example of cheeseball lyrics, with the repeated line, “I’m watching you watch over me.” It didn’t help that the song itself is fairly weak, and would probably work well in a dentist office playlist. A couple of other songs conjured up corny arena rock--I’m not a fan of the new Journey-meets-Coldplay single, “Straight Lines,” but the crowd evidently was.

Just as many of the tunes were shout-along anthems with lofty melodies and nicely altered arrangements. “If You Keep Losing Sleep,” “Ana’s Song (Open Fire)” and “Tuna in the Brine” worked well, all swinging between arty and radio-ready. And, I admit, hearing older tunes from Frogstomp such as “Israel’s Son” brought back memories of trying to learn the songs on my first acoustic guitar in middle school. The Aussies didn’t play the old stuff grudgingly, either, looking as if they truly enjoyed getting all mid-’90s on us. Silverchair never did play “Pure Massacre” or “Tomorrow,” but I can’t really fault the band for it. I mean, the guys hit it big in their early teens, and number-one hit or not, no one should be forced to re-enact their teenage years on a nightly basis. Or ever, for that matter.

As Tall as Lions shares Silverchair’s penchant for anthemic choruses, playing pop rock suited for an opening act. It was pretty good for about 30 minutes, but any more than that would have been too long. The band has been lumped in with emo acts because of its label, Triple Crown, but vocalist Daniel Ligro isn’t a whiner, and he can pull off some tunes in a fairly high register. The minor harmonies were nice and atypical, although it felt like all these guys just discovered falsetto and don’t realize it can be overused. Also, the bass player’s awkwardly bombastic stage moves were way overdone, and I started to get embarrassed for him, like a guy at a party who thinks he can really dance and no one has the heart to tell him he sucks. One of his bandmates needs to have a heart-to-heart with him, look him in the eye, and say, “Dude, you’re a bassist.”

Radiohead - New York Times

Now that most of the hoopla about Radiohead's pay-what-you-want digital In Rainbows release (No. 3 on my Best of 2007 list) has passed, The New York Times ran an article Sunday about the album, and it's Radiohead's first extensive interview since the release. It's an interesting read. I liked picturing Thom Yorke at his local Oxford pub, scribbling down lyrics for the next Radiohead album over a pint. Although after this article, I'm thinking he won't be able to get away with that anymore now that the Rose and Crown has been outed at his favorite writing spot.

Best albums of 2007

After all my fawning over The National, I was excited to see the band on the cover of Paste’s December issue. (The magazine voted Boxer as the best album of 2007.) But, I have to admit, I was selfishly a little disappointed because, well, I felt like I couldn’t pick Boxer as my album of the year anymore. Gotta be original, right? So I whittled down my list, reordered it, then reordered it some more, and grudgingly put Okkervil River as No. 1 (though I do love The Stage Names). Then I realized how completely stupid that was. What’s the point of being original if it’s not true? So Boxer is back on top. After listening to my top five picks again, it truly is my favorite album of 2007.

So here’s my top 25 with a quick comment about each, along with my five biggest disappointments and five overhyped (or overblogged, or overrated--you get it) albums of the year.

Top 25 Albums of 2007
1. The National - Boxer
Matt Berninger has the best baritone in rock, and he’s just as good at singing about white-collar malaise as he is about love, and often in the same song.
2. Okkervil River - The Stage Names
A close second. “Love to a Monster” is one of the best breakup songs I’ve ever heard, with lyrics that shiver uncomfortably with honesty. Sample lyric: “I hope you get angry and hurt and have the hardest of landings. And I hope your new man thinks of me when he sees what a number I did on you.”
3. Radiohead - In Rainbows
I was utterly shocked by this album. I really didn’t expect to like it, but it’s the best Radiohead album since Ok Computer in my book.
4. Ryan Adams - Easy Tiger
I think I’m one of the few people who thinks Ryan Adams isn’t prolific enough.
5. Southeast Engine - A Wheel Within a Wheel
Lots of Ezekiel references, other biblical imagery and lines out of the Norton Anthology, with a singer who conjures the voice of Jeff Tweedy and the phrasing of Ben Kweller. What’s not to like?
6. Arcade Fire - Neon Bible
Not a sophomore slump.
7. Spoon - Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
If Spoon releases an album every year, it will almost always end up in the top 10. The band constantly reinvents itself, yet rarely missteps.
8. Weakerthans - Reunion Tour
One of the most underrated bands on the planet. Chewy poetic center inside a poppy candy shell.
9. Josh Ritter - The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter
It’s hard to find a better songwriter than Josh Ritter, and it was nice to hear him expand sonically on this album.
10. Feist - The Reminder
Feist hops between genres seamlessly, simultaneously appealing to hipsters and their moms.
11. Andrew Bird - Armchair Apocrypha
Ethereal violin pop? By any label, “Imitosis” is one of my favorite tracks of the year.
12. Iron & Wine - The Shepherd’s Dog
Sam Beam did the impossible. He branched out in a way that pleased listeners who wanted some change, yet stayed familiar enough to make his loyal fan base happy (for the most part).
13. White Stripes - Icky Thump
Jack White gets more enigmatic with each release. It’s also a great album when you want to hear dirty guitars that can blow a speaker.
14. Blitzen Trapper - Wild Mountain Nation
I’m surprised this album hasn’t appeared on more lists. It’s a little uneven, but the bright spots are really bright. If you haven’t already, at least check out the title track, “Country Caravan” and “Big Star.”
15. Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank
The blogger backlash was inevitable after “Float On.” But I’d listen to a Johnny Marr Modest Mouse song over a Smiths song any day (see Iconic bands I don’t like). Give the album another try if you wrote it off.
16. The Everybodyfields - Nothing is Okay
A male-female duo with unique but complementary voices makes a depressing country album that for some reason isn’t a downer. Great fiddle, too.
17. Sea Wolf - Leaves in the River
“You’re a Wolf” is one of the best songs of the year, and the other tracks are solid, too, especially “Black Dirt.” Alex Church writes dark, folky stuff and adds strings to create Romanian overtones.
18. Wilco - Sky Blue Sky
I was disappointed in this album, but even a disappointing Wilco album is better than most releases. That’s how good Wilco is.
19. Band of Horses - Cease to Begin
Lots of atmosphere, lots of reverb, catchy tunes, a little twang. My Morning Jacket meets the Shins.
20. Akron/Family - Love is Simple
Watching these guys perform really made this album open up for me. “Don’t Be Afraid, You’re Already Dead” is gorgeous, and despite that title, the album is unironically uplifting.
21. The Shins - Wincing the Night Away
Backlash for this one was predictable, as well. It was disappointing, but like Wilco, it’s hard for the Shins to mess things up too much.
22. Josh Rouse - Country Mouse, City House
Another underrated songwriter who consistently puts out excellent albums that wallow in subtlety.
23. Ian Ball - Who Goes There
Ian Ball was always my favorite singer in Gomez, so this album plays like a Best of Gomez to me.
24. Yeasayer - All Hour Cymbals
World music, chant singing and indie rock. After more listens, it’s possible this one could climb higher in the list.
25. Devendra Banhart - Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon
I guess “freak folk” and “eclectic” are redundant, but I’m amazed how Banhart managed to make an album that mingles ’60s folk, the Doors and a song about a briss that has him evoking a Jamaican Perry Como.

Top 5 Disappointments
1. Stars - In Our Bedroom After the War
2. Bloc Party - A Weekend in the City
3. Bright Eyes - Cassadaga
4. Ben Lee - Ripe
5. Youth Group - Casino Twilight Dogs

Top 5 Overhyped
1. Jens Lekman - Night Falls Over Kortedala
2. Panda Bear - Person Pitch
3. Animal Collective - Strawberry Jam
4. Sunset Rubdown - Random Spirit Lover
5. Peter Bjorn and John - Writer’s Block

Quiet

We had our first snow in Columbus yesterday, and it was substantial. Not enough for the news teams to give it a catchy name, but enough to slow things down and make everything look nice and clean for a little while.

Coincidentally, the day before, I received in the mail an EP by Jim Ward titled Quiet. Actually, it was addressed to Joel Childers, so maybe I'm not supposed to have it. (Mr. Childers: If you would like your EP, I'll send it along, but I'm afraid I'll have to keep my current address.) Jim Ward was the the guitarist for seminal post-hardcore/emo-punkers At the Drive-In, then went on to form the not-so-seminal-but-similar band Sparta with some of the leftovers. (The other remaining members became the Mars Volta.)

It turns out Ward has created a nice, aptly titled little five-song EP that's a great companion to a snow day. Ward usually shreds his vocal chords screaming in Sparta, but on these tunes he sounds like a subdued, American David Gray alongside stripped-down, acoustic arrangements. It's nothing groundbreaking lyrically, but it's surprisingly understated coming from Ward. Maura Davis of Denali also adds some vocals on "Take it Back" to great effect.

In the release, Ward hints that this is the first in a series of recordings, and says that after a long tour, "I wanted to sit in my house and play acoustic guitar quietly." I'm glad he did, because on cold, snowy days I like to sit in my house and listen to acoustic guitar quietly.

mp3: Jim Ward - Take it Back

Spoon with Great Northern, Buffalo Killers and Happy Chichester, LC Pavilion, 12-3

“Indie rock” has become somewhat of a meaningless term over the last few years, with plenty of bands who are by no means independent being tagged with the descriptor. The term also assumes all rock on an independent label must sound similar by nature of its origin. Such is the difficulty and danger of attempting to put music into neat little categories. But, the term has begun permeating the mainstream, finding its way into movies, TV shows and dozens of commercials aimed at the coveted 18-30 demographic. And when a genre is that pervasive and accepted, it makes sense to use it, misnomer or not.

Spoon embodies the indie rock ethos, and I for one am glad to see the band gain in popularity the last couple of years after toiling away since 1994. Spoon didn’t have a Garden State to catapult it to the level of the Shins, or a crossover single delivered to the masses like Modest Mouse (“I Turn My Camera On” came close), but the popularity of the indie rock genre and the band’s clever re-inventions on a succession of albums (and locally, a good amount radio airplay) have enabled Spoon to reach that first tier of indie rock recognition.

Britt Daniel is Spoon. He’s an unassuming guy, to the point where he walked through the crowd beforehand without most people ever noticing. He’s like the nondescript guy from every college dorm who keeps a low profile and always looks like he just woke up. But the style he has created for the band is truly his own, with a scratchy-but-soulful voice scraping away over sharp, quick guitar and piano. It’s as if every instrument in Spoon is part of the rhythm section, which creates plenty of space for quirky musical gestures and avoids claustrophobic tendencies.

Daniel and his Austin, Texas, cohorts communicated almost all of that uniqueness live, making the show a real treat for longtime fans and first-timers. While the set was heavy on cuts from this year’s confusingly titled Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga, Spoon broke out some oldies, too, opening the show with a great version of “If You Say So” from 1996’s All the Negatives Have Been Destroyed. Daniel played his guitar like a jackhammer and sang with passion on danceable burners such as “You Got Yr. Cherry Bomb,” “Rhthm & Soul” and “Don’t Make Me a Target,” with lyrics about “nuclear dicks with dialect drawls” who “come from a parking lot town.”

There were a couple of weak points. “The Ghost of You Lingers” could have been cut from Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga and the same went for the live set. The horn section on “The Underdog” was sorely missed. Also, the person manning the sound board perpetually added short blasts of reverb and echo to Daniel’s vocals. I assume this was at the request of the band, but it came off as unnecessary and distracting--almost as distracting as the drunken college student who repeatedly attempted to talk to me about the 2008 presidential election during the concert, then asked if I would return something to Global Gallery for him. ($5 tickets = more beer money = muchos drunkenness.)

But the negatives shouldn’t be overstated. Spoon saved up a whole lot of energy for a taut encore that ripped through tunes such as “Japanese Cigarette Case” and “I Turn My Camera On,” ending the night strong and cementing its place among indie rock royalty.

Three other bands opened the show, and I was most impressed by the atmospheric pop of Great Northern. The crowd as a whole never really seemed to buy into it, which made the band’s set seem a little more ho-hum than it should have. Great Northern played a new song that the band admitted wasn’t fully complete yet, and it showed, but otherwise the songs were well-crafted with borderline boy-band melodies disguised by lots of Silversun Pickups-style guitar feedback, keys, synth and Rachel Stolte and Solon Bixler’s lush vocals. It was super-catchy stuff, and the arrangements and ambience kept things interesting.

Buffalo Killers, a three-piece from Cincinnati, played southern garage rock in the vein of Kings of Leon with louder guitars and lots more hair. The bluesy riffs evoked Hendrix while brothers Zachary and Andrew Gabbard emitted phlegmy yowls over top. I couldn’t help thinking how great the songs would be on Guitar Hero. Local stalwart Happy Chichester opened the show solo with some uptempo acoustic numbers and moody piano, and his tunes just keep getting better. Still, I again lament the fact that performing solo has become the art of how to use a loop pedal. Solo musicians: It’s OK to just use a guitar and your voice. No one will think less of you.

Jose Gonzalez, Wexner Center, 11-30

I’m a sucker for mellow, acoustic songs with literate lyrics. So I expected to be whisked away to a magical dreamland of engaging folk pop at the Wexner Center’s Jose Gonzalez concert Friday night. Instead, I ended up pretty bored.

Don't get me wrong, Gonzalez is talented. The man has complete mastery over his classical guitar, and deftly fingerpicks and strums his way through songs effortlessly, creating droning, hypnotic landscapes on the instrument. If he were merely the guitarist in a larger band, I’d probably sing his praises. His voice isn’t too shabby either. The soft tenor is pleasing on the ears, with no harshness to be found.

But...

Hearing Gonzalez live, all those mild, palatable qualities become dull. He’s like the hipster version of Jack Johnson--laid-back and mellow to the point of soullessness. Or maybe the singer-songwriter version of Al Gore--expressionless, robotic and lacking charisma. The performance just didn’t feel inspired, and he didn’t convince me that he actually meant any of the things he sang, which is a shame since he’s not a bad lyricist.

The tunes that worked best were songs in which his two percussionists added some depth with various instruments and vocal harmonies. Other bright spots of the night were a few of Gonzalez’s most popular songs, which are favorites for a reason. On “Fold,” “Down the Line” and his cover of the Knife’s “Heartbeats,” his personality shines through in the creative vocal performances that complement the melodic guitar hooks. He’s also good at keeping the songs short and sweet.

I envision these stronger songs on a mix CD that a guy makes for his girlfriend. “I’m in love with those two Jose Gonzalez songs on the mix,” she says. “They’re sad but so pretty.” She then decides to go buy his two albums, but after a few listens she realizes that all she really needed were those two songs. The others are more of the same, yet not as compelling. “Sad but pretty” eventually becomes “tiresome and repetitive.” Then they break up.

A few more similar pics on the Flickr page.

Anticipation

The end-of-the-year lists have begun. The new issue of Paste ranks the top 50 albums of 2007, with The National's Boxer claiming the No. 1 spot. I've probably been annoying people all year with my National lauding, so it's good to see them get some well-deserved love.

I'm thinking I'll do a Top 20 of 2007 list, and undoubtedly Boxer will end up in the top five. But until then, there are a few releases I'm looking forward to in 2008, including albums from U2 (hopefully), My Bloody Valentine and The Mountain Goats. But I think I'm most looking forward to Bon Iver's debut on Jagjaguwar. I only have three tracks from Bon Iver (aka Justin Vernon), but I can't stop listening to them. Vernon doesn't really sound like Sam Beam, but fans of Iron & Wine will probably enjoy him nonetheless, mostly because it's acoustic, folkish and Vernon has a beard. Where Beam is whispery and delicate, Vernon uses ample amounts of falsetto and some soul to create achingly beautiful, semi-lo-fi love songs.

Bon Iver - Skinny Love
Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago

i guess i'm recommending

In the wake of In Rainbows, it's hard to say how much of an effect Radiohead's pay-what-you-want model of album releasing will have on the industry. Music fans rejoiced, some artists have followed suit (NIN, The Antlers) and some artists have lambasted the group for ruining the music business (Lily Allen, Oasis, Gene Simmons).

But, it seems most bands like Radiohead's idea, and they're aping it (much to the benefit of those who like free music). Music blog i guess i'm floating picked up on this trend and started a new regular feature called mpFree in which the blog has begun highlighting EPs and LPs available for free. It's a good idea, and I recommend checking it out/subscribing to get news about such releases if you're like me and enjoy artist-sanctioned, complimentary downloads. The first installment features Boston's Ezra & The Harpoons. The band is offering its most recent release, Banging Down the Doors, as a free download through Nov. 27 (tomorrow). Get the zip file here.

Rolling Stone = predictable

I stopped reading Rolling Stone for music recommendations a long time ago, but I still like some of the feature stories from time to time. For all its faults, RS gives its writers a lot of freedom in profiles, and the longer word lengths allows them to really sink their teeth into the stories. I don't get the feeling the writers are over-edited, either, which I appreciate; too many publications strip writers' of their voices.

Of course there are plenty of faults with a music magazine that has no qualms about putting Zac Efron on its cover, but what's been getting under my skin the past few years is how utterly predictable the magazine has become. Every single issue starts with a story or two on how the major labels or the touring industry is tanking, and these stories don't say anything that wasn't said the previous month. Then there's the departments, a feature or two and a gigantic political story about how [insert well-known Republican here] eats children and skins baby leopards to fund his campaign. It's fine to have a political bent to your magazine, I guess, but sensationalism gets old very quickly. Speaking of sensationalism, RS also has a spread with People-style paparazzi photos of celebrities with oh-so-witty captions in each issue.

I can always count on the reviews section to give me dry descriptions of whatever Clear Channel has deemed the top 15 artists for that month (the exception being Fricke's Picks, the only RS reviewer who hasn't become obsessed with the Extra! culture and can speak quite intelligently about recent releases).

The decline of Rolling Stone as a credible music journal has been apparent for years now, but I never thought it would become quite as formulaic as it is in its current form.

Feist, Wexner Center, 11-18

The Wexner Center has hosted some great shows this season, and the Feist show in Mershon Auditorium Sunday night was just another feather in its cap. Not long ago, it would have been tough or impossible for Leslie Feist to fill out Mershon, but thanks to a critically acclaimed album released this year (The Reminder) and a catchy tune featured in an iPod commercial (“1234”), the place looked just about sold out.

Feist has a pretty good indie rock resume, having played with Peaches (her former roommate) and Canadian indie supergroup Broken Social Scene. A Calgary-born Toronto girl, Feist has a knack for crafting neo-folk with overtones of jazz, indie rock and even African tribal music. (After all, the Wex doesn’t book artists unless they can be described as “eclectic.”) Her voice is her greatest asset, and on Sunday it sounded just the way it should. It’s like a good shot of whiskey--smooth, slightly smokey and warm on the way down.

Feist, in a tube top and jeans, played vintage-looking semi-hollow-body electric guitars most of the night on an unadorned stage with a large video screen behind her that displayed bright, solid colors (evoking an iPod commercial) or silhouettes of various objects such as leaves, pebbles and lace. The set list drew mostly from The Reminder, and listening to these tunes, it became obvious that all the critical praise for the album is justified. Songs like “So Sorry” and “The Park” had her play the role of an emotive folkie as well as anyone, “The Limit to Your Love” and “I Feel It All” proved that she can groove and “1234” shows that she’s not above writing a super-catchy pop song. (Those Apple folks aren’t idiots.) The instrumentation and melodic flourishes tend to be just what each song needs--nothing more, nothing less--and are varied enough to tickle your ear. Though there’s some room for adult contemporary appeal, the songstress is infinitely more interesting than a one-trick pony like Norah Jones.

The only snoozer of the night was “The Water,” mostly because it was the one song on which she decided to play piano. The piano was positioned off to the side, and as a result her back was to the audience, making for a boring rendition of the mellow tune. Contrast that with “How My Heart Behaves,” a piano-based song that starts off ominous and minor, then melts away into a major refrain with the lyrics, “A cold heart will burst if mistrusted first.” She wisely let one of her bandmates handle the piano for that one.

As usual, the Wexner Center crowd watched attentively and silently in their seats without ever getting, well, feisty. Butts were even planted for “1234,” despite Feist’s commercial-evoking head bobs and hip-shaking. I guess these concertgoers were too self-aware to let TV advertising affect their concert behavior. After all, they listened to Feist way before that iPod ad ever came out.

More pics below and on the Flickr site.

My Brightest Diamond with Tim Fite, Wexner Center, 11-13

It will probably take awhile for Shara Worden, singer/songwriter for My Brightest Diamond, to live down the fact that she toured with Sufjan Stevens as one of his Illinoisemakers. Stevens has become too big of a name not to mention it, and the tour is how Worden began to make a name for herself. But judging from the show at the Wexner Center Tuesday night, Worden can fill a stage on her own just fine.

With a voice like hers, touring as merely a background singer for other bands would be a colossal waste of her talent, which was meant to be showcased in the Wex’s minimalist performance space in the context of a three-piece band, as opposed to Stevens’s traveling orchestra. Worden played her semi-hollow-body guitar gingerly at times and aggressively at others while her excellent drummer held down the vacillating beats and the bassist established the groove. But the tastefully simple instrumentation was merely window dressing for what everyone came to hear--Worden’s voice. It was pitch-perfect, veering from rock to jazz to soul to opera, ethereal at times and raucous at others.

Worden has studied opera, and it shows. Yet, she’s also a Nina Simone fan, and that shows, too. The versatility of her singing allows her to pull off all sorts of vocal theatrics, from trembles to yelps to whispers, often within the same song. It was apparent by the covers she played, as well: “It’s Over” by Roy Orbison, “Feeling Good” by Nina Simone and “Tainted Love,” made famous by Soft Cell. They all sounded as good, if not better, than the My Brightest Diamond originals, which drew from the 2006 debut, Bring Me the Workhorse.

For some reason, Tim Fite is touring with My Brightest Diamond. His music can best be described as folk-rap, but the style changes drastically from song to song. It’s not even close to the same genre as My Brightest Diamond, and the pairing felt forced. Still, Fite’s an entertainer with a boisterous sense of humor who played in front of a video screen that mostly showed himself playing guitar and singing along to the songs. Fite looks like a younger Paul Giamatti, and decked out in seersucker pants with suspenders, he displays endless energy. The more rap-leaning tunes worked the best with all the pre-recorded loops, and “It’s All Right Here,” a rant against consumerism, was the true highlight of the set. The humor outside of the songs, such as a story about a rat named Juice who had an orange-scented hiney, didn’t work as well, and Fite’s sidekick didn’t help; he felt the need to explain jokes and chatter nonstop.

More photos on the Flickr page. (Not the best shots this time around, unfortunately.)

Jens Lekman

I'd rather talk about music I like on this blog rather than stuff I don't like. But every once in a while there's an album that despite massive amounts of critical praise from people/media outlets I usually trust, I just don't enjoy it. Jens Lekman's Night Falls Over Kortedala is one of those albums. Not only do I think it's not everything it's cracked up to be--I really can't stand it. To my ears, it's subpar Swede crooning over string arrangements straight out of Lawrence Welk. I don't have a problem with pop songs at all--there's plenty of pop ditties I'm not ashamed I enjoy. But Lekman just grates on my ears, no matter how many times I try to give the tunes another listen. Even the album cover bothers me.

For Lekman fans out there (and I'm asking this honestly, not smuggishly), what is it you find appealing about this album and his music in general? And for those who don't, well, I guess just know that you're not alone.

Columbia Gas bill--Now with Scratch 'N Sniff!

Baby Einstein

I really needed to get work done today, and Liam thought that was a silly idea. So I finally gave in and plopped him in front of a Baby Einstein DVD for the first time. I've been resisting this for a while, so as not to indoctrinate my son into the brain-sucking world of trite and emasculating TV programming for kids. Baby Einstein is like a gateway drug. Once you go there, what's to stop me from sitting him in front of the Wiggles a year from now?

Alas, he loved it. So now I feel like a bad parent on two levels. Not only did I give into the corporate kid culture, but I also have been depriving Liam of something he seems to truly enjoy. I guess it'll all be worth it when he starts explaining the theory of relativity to me next week.

Dashboard Confessional, Newport, 11/3

At the sold-out Dashboard Confessional show Saturday night at the Newport, there was a couple standing in front of me who arrived at the venue surly and arguing. This argument, which seemed to involve something about standing in the balcony instead of the ground floor, continued throughout the two opening bands. At some points arms were flailing, at others arms were planted on hips, and later arms were rigidly folded. A couple of times, the male combatant would simply walk away, only to return and continue the argument.

I know it’s voyeuristic, but it was a train wreck I couldn’t stop watching, and there really couldn’t be a more fitting place to witness it. It was like a real-life enactment of Dashboard Confessional’s songs, all penned and sung by heartbreak kid Chris Carrabba, who is playing solo on this tour. The tunes are uncomfortably honest, super-sensitive stories of relationships gone wrong, complete with insecurities, details about types of lipstick and colors of T-shirts and lots of emoting--hence Dashboard’s synonymy with modern emo.

Carrabba’s songs create intense fan devotion, especially in women and sensitive men in high school and college, and when these fans get together live, it’s one giant sing-along. Like him or loathe him, one can’t deny the connection he makes with his audience. Everyone at the Newport was singing at the top of their lungs along with Carrabba, and he’d frequently stand on the edge of the stage and let the crowd sing entire verses on their own. They loved it. By the end of the first song the previously angry couple was arm in arm. By the third song, hands were in each other’s back pockets, and by the fifth song it was full-on concert canoodling.

Carrabba played songs spanning his career--tunes from his early EPs that he used to play solo while opening for punk bands, and tracks from more recent albums Dusk and Summer and The Shade of Poison Trees. He’s perhaps best-known now by the hit song “Vindicated,” which he wrote for the Spiderman 2 soundtrack (Peter Parker is, after all, the most emo of all superhero alter egos). Carrabba also made sure to play “Screaming Infidelities,” a fan favorite with the trademark lyrics, “Your hair, it’s everywhere/Screaming infidelities and taking its wear.” His voice sounded pretty much like it does on record, alternating between whispers and earnest yells.

The whole vibe was downright cute at first, and Carrabba has a likable, humble stage persona with a self-deprecating sense of humor. The odd thing is, he’s 32. There’s something strange about a 32-year-old man belting out relationship songs that seem straight out of a pubescent journal. At this stage in his career, you’d think there’d be more of a sense of maturity in the songs. It’s like how Mike Jeffries, CEO of Abercrombie & Fitch, still wears sandals and ripped jeans and sports ultra-blond hair even though he’s in his 60s. Something about it just doesn’t seem quite right. (Though I doubt Carrabba has a picture of a male torso hanging above his bed like Jeffries does.)

Also, the incessant song breaks with crowd singing got a little old, as did Carrabba’s several requests for the crowd to sing along even though they obviously were already. Maybe I’m just getting old, but when I go to a concert, I’d like to hear the artist sing more than the audience. That’s why he’s onstage and we’re not.

Still, Carrabba’s such a puppy dog that it would be downright cruel not to believe his sincerity or to mistake his passion for pandering. He just wants his sad songs to make you happy.

Opener John Ralston played safe, boring pop rock, but Augustana was a pleasant surprise, conjuring up memories of August and Everything After-era Counting Crows. It was piano pop rock that must be a record label’s dream with its cross-platform appeal, especially the radio single, “Boston,” a song you’d most likely be embarrassed to admit you enjoy because your mom would probably really like it. Singer Dan Layus has a great voice but also had the annoying trait of constantly holding his finger up to his ear monitor while he sang. And he really likes to hear himself croon, even excessively singing along to guitar solos. But at least he’s good at it.

Ryan Adams, LC, 10/25

Ryan Adams used to be a heroine/cocaine/alcohol junkie, and now he’s sober. He has also garnered the reputation of being an arrogant jerk, but it was always hard to know if this was a result of the stimulants or if it was his real personality. The sold-out show at the LC last Thursday only muddied the water.

For the first part of the concert, Adams barely acknowledged the audience, but about halfway through the three-and-a-half-hour set, he angrily started spouting off about someone repeatedly requesting “Come Pick Me Up,” a fan favorite about a failed relationship in which a woman stole a bunch of the singer’s records. “However many beers you have between songs won’t make that song fly out of my ass,” he said. “I appreciate that you’re a hardcore fan, but it’s not gonna (expletive) happen.” There was more, and it was annoying, obnoxious and completely uncalled for, especially since the audience appeared to be mostly respectful. It seemed sobriety had not softened the alt-country rocker.

But then, after the next song (“Wildflowers”), something astounding happened. He apologized. Well, sort of. He apologized for lashing out, but then went on to explain the justification for his outburst. Still, the reasoning made some sense. Ryan Adams isn’t just Ryan Adams anymore. The band is Ryan Adams and the Cardinals--his solo days, he said, are over. Though he still played some older tunes, Adams doesn’t want to be that guy anymore, and it was apparent he really loves his band. The set list included almost all of the band’s most recent (and excellent) album, Easy Tiger, and plenty from Cold Roses and Jacksonville City Nights. The guys have an obvious chemistry onstage, anticipating each note their comrades play.

On the flip side, this zen-like chemistry led to jamming. Lots of jamming. Instrumental breakdowns here and there are fine, but on this night Adams and his Cardinals felt the need to jam a little too much and a little too often. Adams is a brilliant, fecund songwriter, serving up alt-country gems at an inhuman rate with seemingly little effort, and too many musical interludes can ruin the artfully crafted tunes. It’s not that the band can’t play well--Adams is a superb guitarist, as is lead player Neal Casal--it just needs an editor.

Plenty of songs did feel truly inspired. “Two” was one of the best, as was the uptempo rocker “Shakedown on 9th Street.” A more mellow version of “Oh My God, Whatever, Etc.” sounded and looked perfect bathed in the blue lights. “Meadowlake Street,” the first song after a 10-minute smoke break around 11 pm, showcased the band members’ individual strengths, and Adams’ voice just seemed to get stronger as the set went on. To sing that well for that long is something to be admired. “Dear John,” which on Jacksonville City Nights is a boring duet with Norah Jones, sounded the way it should have been recorded, with Casal singing the harmony with more gusto than Jones.

At the request of Adams, the bar was closed during the show, which a doorman said had never happened in the 11 years he’d been there, and I’m sure it made some beer-thirsty folks pretty grumpy to have the singer’s sobriety imposed upon them as well. The doorman also mentioned that Adams required the venue’s employees to leave during soundcheck, which falls into the still-a-jerk category. He wasn’t all serious and pompous, though. Adams dedicated “Rescue Blues” to Albert Einstein, whom he referred to as “Spooky E,” and he also composed a funny impromptu tune advising Mick Jagger not to make another solo record. Actually, I guess that is sort of obnoxious, but the humor factor wins out.

The show began around 8:30 and didn’t end till midnight. I’m pretty sure it was the longest concert I’ve ever attended. Complaints about the length of the show are valid, but only because the jamming was excessive. Factoring that in, there was still about two-and-a-half hours of near-brilliance, and that’s more than you get from most concerts. About half the crowd was still in attendance toward the end, but security loosened up and let most folks filter down to the front, so it felt like a club show as the concert drew to a close.

As he left the stage, Adams, always vacillating between agitator and appeaser, complimented the audience.

Would he even need the horse bit?

I saw this on Andy Whitman's blog, who got it from this guy's blog, but I just couldn't help reposting it. I can't verify that it came from an actual coloring book... but it probably did!

Jimmy Eat World - Chase This Light

Jimmy Eat World’s 1999 album, Clarity, has become a landmark album in emo circles and has inadvertently christened the band as torchbearers of the genre (in its modern definition). I say inadvertently, because the band never really intended to be a representative of any genre, and Jimmy Eat World isn’t all that emo anymore, as evidenced by 2004’s darker Futures, and now with Chase This Light.

But even when the band did its emotional punk thing, it was a cut above the rest. These days, the vast majority of emo/pop punk put out by kids with swooped haircuts sounds derivative, contrived and cloying. Jimmy Eat World always got lumped into that scene for its heart-on-your-sleeve lyrics, but the band has consistently put out better albums and retained a sense of maturity its younger followers haven’t seemed to master. Even Bleed American, the album that thrust the band into the mainstream with singles “The Middle” and “Sweetness,” was a strong showing, other than the former single.

Aside from a couple of ballads and punky numbers, Chase This Light is more power pop than anything, especially album opener “Big Casino,” an anthem with a great hook that speeds along quickly to help you forget the uplifting-in-a-Hallmark-kind-of-way lyrics: “Get up, get up/Dance on the ceiling/Get up, get up/Boy you must be dreaming/Rock on young savior/Don't give up your hopes.” Or try a sample from “Carry You”: When I know I'm all alone/I say your name slowly/And I know that I'm alone/But I'll carry you.“ Optimistic platitudes like these are repeated throughout the album. You’ve gotta give the band credit for crafting tasty pop tunes, and the album as a whole certainly has more depth to it than, say, a Simple Plan record, but plumbing the depths won’t turn up anything that hasn’t been said before, and better. “Electable (Give It Up)” delves into vague political territory, a call to action for us to embrace independence and voice dissent. It’s an earnest plea, but it evokes high-school freshman poetry.

For Chase This Light, Jimmy Eat World enlisted the help of producer and Garbage drummer Butch Vig, who’s responsible for classics such as Nirvana’s Nevermind and the Smashing Pumpkins’ Gish. Vig is usually lauded for refining and repackaging Nirvana’s raw sound, but on this record he goes a little overboard. The whole thing is entirely overproduced--no stray notes anywhere and no surprises. Digital hand claps abound, as do glam-metal-style shouts of “Hey!” Oh Oh!” and “Ahhh!” There are lots of layered, distorted guitars, but no guitars that sound rough or dirty. The high-gloss sheen gives it a pretty sterile sound.

Chase This Light probably should have been released four months ago--it has a distinct bright, summery feel. So if you’re in the mood for cruising along to some catchy sunroof rock on an abnormally warm fall day, the new Jimmy Eat World ain’t a bad option. Just don’t listen too closely.

Dylan/Costello review

Online here.

Wilco with Andrew Bird, Wexner Center, 10-16

Wilco did not disappoint last night, playing songs spanning the band's entire catalog and rocking for more than two hours. Tweedy was his laid-back, funny, captivating self, decked out in a big white suit with sparkly roses. But guitarist Nels Cline almost stole the show. His spastic, herky-jerky guitar playing was awe-inducing, an exercise in passion and precision. Wilco has three very capable guitar players, but Cline is a real virtuoso. Highlights for me were "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart," "Handshake Drugs," "Airline to Heaven" and "Shot in the Arm." I hope they come back soon. A few more pics at the bottom.

Andrew Bird opened up. Bird's an odd... bird, but entertaining. He played solo and didn't quite have the loop-pedal thing down, so he had to restart a couple songs. But I liked his commentary on the mistakes, describing one screw-up as "discovering a different universe."

So I'm finally finished with everything for the next issue of The Other Paper. Phew. Reviews on Thursday will include Smashing Pumpkins, Bob Dylan/Elvis Costello, Wilco and Radiohead's In Rainbows. I'm spent.

Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello - Schottenstein Center, 10/13

Other than introducing his band Saturday night, Bob Dylan didn’t say a word to the crowd gathered at the Schottenstein Center. This isn’t rare for Dylan, and it actually makes sense. When you’re an American icon/legend/cultural revolutionary who’s now 66 years old, what’s left to say? Working on my review of the show, the same question has been tugging at my own brain. The review is necessary, of course, because Bob Dylan came to town, and one can’t ignore a concert like that. And yet, it’s also completely unnecessary because, really, what’s left to say? I won’t pretend to add anything groundbreaking to the vast amount of analytical praise that has been heaped upon Dylan over the years, but from a practical standpoint, just know this: He’s still worth seeing.

Elvis Costello was similarly captivating, filling the arena with just his voice and a guitar. His stage presence commanded attention, and though it was a short set, it was filled with some of his most well-known and loved tunes: "Alison," "Veronica," "(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes," and "(What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love & Understanding." Costello doesn't carry with him quite the level of cultural importance as Dylan, but it's hard to deny the sense of history he brings to the stage. He still seems relevant to me.

Smashing Pumpkins, LC, 10-11

Billy Corgan has always been a great frontman, with or without James Iha and D'arcy. Last night's show was heavy on the Zeitgeist material with a few too many instrumental lulls, but it showed that Corgan has brought back the Pumpkins' rock-and-roll mentality. Although I was wishing for more Siamese Dream material than "Today" and "Hummer," the band put on a great show and made me realize I don't just like Smashing Pumpkins for nostalgic reasons. Review coming in The Other Paper next week.

Where God and Earthworm Jim meet

God loves the arts, and I'm glad I'm a part of a church that realizes that. It's one of the reasons we're located in the Short North Arts District, and why we have a Grace Central Arts Guild that twice a year puts on arts forums with respected speakers and musicians. (Think Linford Detweiler of Over the Rhine, not Thomas Kinkade.) Plus, each forum is accompanied by a literary journal. There's no hidden agenda with the Arts Guild. Its mission is simply to:

1. Encourage artists in the church AND in the community.
2. Equip the church with an understanding of the arts.
3. Engage the community with arts-related events.

...and it just so happens the fourth annual fall arts forum is this Saturday, Oct. 13, at 7:30 pm, 237 W. 2nd Ave. The featured speaker is Doug TenNapel, author of graphic novels and creator of Earthworm Jim. He's a weird dude, and he'll be entertaining I'm sure. (Also, if you're the visual arts type, arrive early from 6-7 to have Doug review your portfolio.) Here's some more info on Doug TenNapel below. See you there.

"Doug TenNapel was dubbed by People magazine "the Dr. Seuss for Generation X" after creating cross-platform characters like Earthworm Jim for Universal and The Neverhood for Dreamworks SKG. TenNapel sold the movie option to his graphic novel Creature Tech to Fox/New Regency while his graphic novel Tommysaurus Rex was optioned by Shady Acres at Universal. His work as an artist/writer for The Simpsons comic won an Eisner Award in 2000. Doug was executive producer/creator of the animated series Catscratch on Nickelodeon and is working on a new animated series for Cartoon Network. More info on Doug TenNapel and his work can be found at www.tennapel.com."

beonlineb

There's lots of posts about this already, but just in case you haven't seen it, check out the online interactive video for Arcade Fire's Neon Bible. Very cool idea, and well done. Click around while you watch.

Also, I interviewed Arcade Fire's drummer, Jeremy Gara, for a Q&A in last Thursday's Other Paper. But I'm bummed I missed the band's Friday show here in Columbus. Next time...

The Donnas -- The Basement, 10/2

People seem to fall into two camps when it comes to the Donnas: those who love the campy hair metal, and those who think it's all a gimmick. I fall squarely in the latter group. The show was bad--really bad. The Donnas didn't even appear to buy the schtick themselves, and to top it off, singer Brett Anderson can barely carry a tune. Worst show I've seen in a while.

Radiohead - In Rainbows

Radiohead announced its new album will be available to download Oct. 10, and only from the album website. A big 'ole box set with two discs and other goodies is available for pre-order, as well. And there doesn't appear to be a label involved anywhere in the process. I guess Radiohead agrees that the music biz is changing.

All that's pretty extraordinary, but to top it off, fans will decide how much to pay for the In Rainbows download. No joke--the price is up to you. So the question is: How much would you pay for a new Radiohead album? Personally, after the band's last couple albums, I wouldn't pay a whole lot, but I sure am curious.

A baby-driven life

I know all babies are different, but for me, taking care of a newborn is the easy part. I'm not saying there aren't some confusing moments and afternoons of screaming that make you want to pull your hair out. But a baby's needs are pretty simple. He needs to eat, sleep and excrete, along with some developmental play time like reading and singing. (I recently penned a Grammy-worthy tune titled "Liam and Daddy Looking in the Mirror." Look for it on shelves come Christmas.)

The hard part is taking care of a baby while still doing all the other things I should be doing, like being a good husband to my wife, getting stories turned in by their deadlines, studying for an upcoming church officer examination, staying in touch with friends, practicing hospitality, leading a Bible study, listening to albums I need to review, scheduling interviews, feeding Louie, taking a shower, etc. I guess the definition of "father" will continually change throughout my life. Right now, since I can't really instill any values in my son yet, fatherhood feels mostly like juggling and prioritizing. It's not a romantic concept, and you won't see it on any Hallmark cards, but it's true so far. And whenever I try to undertake all this using only my own strength I fail miserably. Fatherhood has been humbling in many ways, but especially spiritually.

Still, the one thing everyone told me about fatherhood beforehand is still pretty much true: Despite the constant struggle to keep my head above water, I wouldn't trade it for anything. At three months, Liam can only make two or three sounds/gurgles, but I laugh more every day than I ever did pre-baby, and when he does something as simple as roll over for the first time, I've never felt so proud. I guess that's a bit Hallmarkish. Apologies. I guess fatherhood has made me more mushy, too.

Postscript: I have a newfound respect for single parents. There should be a monthly cash reward for each month completed with sanity intact. I don't know how those folks do it.

Amazon MP3

I'm a pretty loyal eMusic downloader, but the new music-download service from Amazon is good news because, like eMusic, it's DRM-free. No limits on how many times you can burn a song onto a mix, no restrictions on mp3 players, etc. I imagine I'll use it mostly for major-label releases that eMusic doesn't carry (right now the only two participating are EMI and Universal). And yeah, I do miss having the actually CD and artwork in my hand, but downloading is just too darn easy, and it saves me a trip to the record store, which is an even better perk when trips involve lugging a 3-month-old and a carrier.

An interesting tidbit on pricing from a New York Times blog:
Apple is generally charging $1.29 for its MP3 unprotected files in the AAC format, in an attempt to differentiate them from its 99-cent restricted files. Amazon, however, will charge 89 cents and 99 cents for most songs, and it will offer albums at significant discounts. Indeed, to test this out, I purchased an MP3 download of a Philip Glass album for $6.93 from Amazon. It would have cost $11.99 to download from iTunes in Apple’s DRM format and $18.99 to buy as a CD from Amazon. Moreover, Amazon’s software put the music right in my iTunes folder, so there was almost no convenience sacrifice.

Akron/Family - Wexner Center, Sept. 21

Akron/Family put on great show at the Wex, complete with various percussion instruments and cricket noises. Review coming in The Other Paper Thursday.

mp3: Akron/Family - Ed is a Portal

Getting stronger

Band of few words

I've been listening to a stream of Cease to Begin, the new album from Band of Horses that's out on Oct. 9, and I can't get the first tune--"Is There a Ghost"--out of my head. It's like an Explosions in the Sky song that starts quietly crystalline and then builds not-so-slowly to a distorted climax. Singer Ben Bridwell is awash in reverb as usual, as if James Mercer borrowed Jim James's singing cavern.

But what really amazes me is that the song's lyrics consist of only two short sentences: "I could sleep when I lived alone. Is there a ghost in my house?" That's it. Just repetitions of that. I can't say it's terribly meaningful or that it really reminds me of a time when I was struggling with a similar issue, but it works. Guess that goes to show how much atmosphere and dynamics can add to otherwise blah lyrics.

mp3: Band of Horses - Is There a Ghost

It takes two

Ryan Adams is coming to town Oct. 25, and after seeing this clip of a cleaned-up Adams (looking Dead Poet Societyish) and the Cardinals performing "Two" on Letterman, I'm even more excited. His voice sounds even better than it does on the album.

Great Lake Swimmers

I got turned on to Great Lake Swimmers through Paste a few months ago, and they've become my favorite before-bed music, often replacing Iron & Wine (until Sam Beam's new album comes out on Sept. 25, another one I'm really looking forward to). The Ontario band's newest album, Ongiara, has some great tracks from what I've heard, but I've actually been listening to the self-titled debut. Apparently the band recorded the album in an empty grain silo, and it sounds like it--lots of reverb bouncing around hushed vocals and delicate guitars.

Great Lake Swimmers capture a similar vibe on a recent live EP recorded at Church of the Redeemer in Toronto. The band has generously decided to give the EP away, so download it here, put on your headphones and drift off.

One more bedtime recommendation: South San Gabriel, especially "The Dark of the Garage."
mp3: South San Gabriel - The Dark of the Garage

Anticipation

One of the albums I've been most excited for this year comes out on Sept. 25: The Weakerthans' Reunion Tour. The Canadian band is consistently overlooked while overachieving, and from what I've heard so far, the new record will be just as solid as previous efforts. Instead of describing what's great about The Weakerthans, I'm just going to quote Andy Whitman from a post he wrote awhile back called "Albums That Get No Love."

"These guys aren't exactly unknowns, but they are nevertheless criminally underappreciated. The transformation that lead singer/songwriter John K. Samson has wrought from Punk Brat (best shown in his former band Propagandhi) to Thoughtful Poet is nothing less than spectacular. The band mixes it up quite eclectically, tossing in influences from folk, country, and loud, abrasive rock 'n roll. But the secret ingredient is Samson's songwriting. He's one of the few songwriters whose words can stand alone as poetry. He tackles all the big subjects -- love and the loss of love, God, death, loneliness and alienation, the hole in the soul -- and he does so with compassion, warmth, humor, and something that sounds uncannily like wisdom. And he rocks like crazy."

mp3: The Weakerthans - Night Windows

Ric Flair Finance

Need someone to finance your mortgage? Or maybe it's an auto loan you need. Who better to turn to than former professional wrestler Ric Flair? At Ric Flair Finance, "Forget the rest. Just work with the best. Wooooo!"

I still like The National

So here's the new video to "Apartment Story." It's neat.

Recommendations

Busy Joel = fewer blog posts. But here's a few albums I've been enjoying lately:

Josh Ritter - The Historical Conquests of Josh Ritter
Ritter is one of the best Americana songwriters out there today, and it really feels like he's found his voice and style on the last two albums. If you liked Animal Years, you'll like this one, though there's more layers here, less raw acoustic. I don't know if there's a track as incendiary as "Thin Blue Flame," but a couple are close. The extras track you get on iTunes and Amazon are worth it, as well.
mp3: Josh Ritter - To the Dogs or Whoever

Okkervil River - The Stage Names
I have a feeling this will end up in my best of 2007 list. These guys went from folk to rock with great success, and singer Will Sheff sings with the intensity of Arcade Fire's Win Butler. Sometimes indie rockers feel like having raw emotion shine through isn't hip. Not an issue for Okkervil River.
mp3: Okkervil River - Our Life is Not a Movie or Maybe

Dappled Cities - Granddance
I bought this album solely because the band is labelmates with Sea Wolf, and it's one of those that reveals its pop hooks more and more with each listen. And I love the fact that frontman Tim Derricourt sounds really Australian.
mp3: Dappled Cities - Fire Fire Fire




The Mendoza Line - Thirty Year Low + The Final Remarks of the Legendary Malcontent

Plenty of artists sing about failed relationships, but this album documents what appears to be a quite bitter divorce. That would be interesting in and of itself, but it's performed by the former husband/wife team who did the divorcing, Timothy Bracy and Shannon McCardle (her tracks shine brighter). It's sad, tragic and uncomfortable at times--exactly what a breakup album should be.
mp3: The Mendoza Line - Since I Came
mp3: The Mendoza Line - Thirty Year Low

On the fence:
Devendra Banhart - Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon
It's certainly diverse, and it sounds like it was recorded in a conch shell, as Devendra is want to do. There's some Doors (see "Seahorse" below), some reggae and lots of Spanish I don't understand. We'll see.
Devendra Bahnart - Seahorse

Hope for the music biz?

I interviewed Hanson recently for an upcoming Q&A in The Other Paper. (Don't worry, I'm not naive--I fully expect letters demanding why we would waste ink on such a band. But I guarantee more people will read that interview than any other music-related article in the issue.) No matter what question I asked Isaac (the guitarist and oldest brother), he always came back to how messed up the music industry is, how it can't possibly go on in its current form. Though this made for a frustrating interview, compounded with the fact that he talked way too much and I only had about 10 minutes, it's worth noting that a band that has grown up in the music business is utterly jaded by its inner workings. I can't help but agree that major labels are ruining mainstream music. (Latent in that statement are some positives for independent labels, but that's for another post.)

So I was exceedingly encouraged and hopeful when I heard that producer Rick Rubin was going to be one of the top dogs at Columbia. I'd say it's the best decision Columbia has made since signing Bob Dylan. The New York Times Magazine has a great article on Rubin and his possible effect on the music industry. (Thanks to Donewaiting for the heads up.) A quick excerpt:

Rubin, who is 44, has never gone to an office of any kind. One of his conditions for taking the job at Sony, which owns Columbia, was that he wouldn't be required to have a desk or a phone in any of the corporate outposts. That wasn't a problem: Columbia didn't want Rubin to punch a clock. It wanted him to save the company. And just maybe the record business.

What that means, most of all, is that the company wants him to listen. It is Columbia's belief that Rubin will hear the answers in the music — that he will find the solution to its ever-increasing woes.

Of McDonald's and diapers

A baby seemed like the perfect excuse to begin my freelance career. My wife, Kate, would go back to work, and I would stay home with our new baby boy, Liam, while writing.

All in all, the plan has worked out fairly well--he’s a pretty easy baby, I enjoy having more time to write and I’ve only been referred to as Mr. Mom a few times. The new situation also gives us more flexibility to travel, so when Kate’s boss, who’s out of town often, was nearby in Cincinnati for a day, we packed up the family and headed down I-71. Kate and her boss would be able to get some work done face to face, and Liam and I would bide our time at an undetermined location.

I dropped Kate off around noon and decided to grab some food with the little guy. We had passed a McDonald’s after exiting the highway, and since I have a self-imposed rule that I’m allowed to eat Mcfood only when traveling, it seemed like a good place to go. The place was large enough to have a booth for Liam and me to camp out, and hopefully it would have a newspaper I could read while Liam slept soundly. But mostly I wanted some French fries.

So I detached Liam’s ponderous baby carrier from his car seat and slung the green bag filled with baby necessities over my shoulder--yes, it holds diapers, but it is not a diaper bag. I ordered my No. 1 with no sauce on the Big Mac and spotted a somewhat secluded booth toward the back of the restaurant, then headed over, balancing the tray, carrier and baby gear.

There are lots of freedoms I took for granted before the baby came along. For instance, previously, I could set my tray down in a restaurant and then return to the counter to fill a cup with my carbonated beverage of choice. Post-baby, this is not so easy. I was far away from the soda dispenser, and I couldn’t very well leave Liam in his carrier on the table, which was right next to an exit. Well, I guess I could, but I have become a paranoid new father, and I imagined all sorts of scenarios in which a baby snatcher could come in and whisk Liam away as I filled my drink. So I lugged Liam and the carrier across the restaurant and back again. As I sat down, I realized I forgot to buy a newspaper. So I repeated the process again and purchased the Cincinnati Enquirer.

After finally sitting down to eat my meal and read, I heard a few grunts coming from the carrier. I assumed Liam was either getting hungry or working on a little project underneath his onesie. After finishing my deliciously salty fries, I decided to give him his bottle, which was chilling next to a frozen pack in the bag. I got some funny looks as I fed him, but I’m getting used to that, since it’s still fairly rare to see a father feeding a newborn in public, and also since I still look about 17. As I glanced down at Liam’s pudgy little thighs, I saw a sight that strikes fear in the heart of any parent: leakage. Somehow I hadn’t noticed that green stuff was escaping from underneath his diaper, onto his leg and all over his onesie. I looked at the carrier, and sure enough, it was all over the seat belts, even working its way down into the inner workings of the contraption. And my black T-shirt? It now had a decidedly greenish hue.

I contemplated how to fix this situation, and decided I had to leave. The McDonald’s bathroom was dirty and not lockable, and this was a private matter (literally). So I covered Liam’s bottom half with a burp rag, put him back in the tainted carrier and headed for the backseat of our Toyota Corolla, which by this point on an August afternoon was approximately 107 degrees. It’s normally a comfortable size back there, but with a car seat, bags, me and Liam, it’s utterly cramped. I contorted my body and laid a blanket down to clean and change him--none of this made Liam too happy since he never got to finish that bottle. Dripping sweat, I then used half a box of baby wipes to clean the carrier and my T-shirt. I looked at Liam, who had cheered up and was grinning from ear to ear, seemingly amused at my misfortune. Eventually, I was able to give him the remaining contents of the bottle. All said, this backseat process took more than an hour.

The situation was trying my patience to say the least, but to top it off, I had my own bathroom needs to attend to. After drinking a large Coke, it was Daddy’s turn. I just couldn’t bring myself to pack everything up and go back in the same McDonald’s, so we hit the road looking for a place that would have the largest, tidiest bathroom. After a couple of miles, I spotted a Kroger, which seemed like a good option.

Lugging the carrier across the grocery store with giant wet spots on my shirt, I headed to a door with a blue restroom sign and entered. There on the wall was a public convenience I wish I had thought about hours earlier: “Baby Changing Station.”