TOTALLY ADJACENT

My disinterest in ever updating this, my personal blog, is apparent. However, Jeff Ogiba (co-owner of Black Gold Records http://blackgoldbrooklyn.com/) has asked me to contribute record reviews to his blog, http://imustfindatlantis.blogspot.com/, the third of which went up last night. Since the only kind of writing I enjoy engaging in anymore is music based, this will be the new home for my ramblings, opinions, and moments of clarity. Check it out, and check it often.

The Day I Learned That Girls Listen to Metal

The early 2000's were the golden age of mixtapes for me. As mixtaping is still my all-time favorite activity I look back on this period with much reverence and bittersweet nostalgia. Websites like Livejournal and Makeoutclub were full of girls eager to trade their best compilations of indie rock and vanishing emo bands (I say girls specifically because in all that time I only traded with one guy, some dude from Arizona, though that tape did introduce me to Pinback). I still have every tape I was ever given, good or bad, excellent or awful, engrossing or embarrassing. It could be Spoon from that girl from Michigan, or the best song Green Day ever wrote from Allison from Boston, or any number of gems from Illinois' own Mallory. One funny thing is how I have still not grown out of certain awkwardnesses - for some guys these mixtapes may have acted as stepping stones to romantic encounters, whereas I would have been sent running for the hills. As much as I may have hoped for or desired these dream interactions, I turned away from them all, much as I might today.
I remember visiting one girl up in Boston (not Allison, she was a friend of a friend) named Brianna who actually gave me not one, but two tapes when we finally met. We spent most of the day together, she showed me around Beantown, we went record and thrift store shopping, and as the afternoon turned to evening and we sat in her car (and I played some found harmonica) she said I feel like we should be making out... This was, of course, my cue to reply Well, I should probably be heading back to Rob's house... Haha, what a honest-to-god geek. Now, did this girl ACTUALLY want to make out with me...pretty good chance the answer is NO. However, once I got that little nudge into the awkward zone, there was no escape.
This all came to mind today because I listened to a tape this morning that I haven't heard in many years. It was given to me by Vanessa from Ohio, aka: The One that Got Away. Save for the very few times in my life that I actually didn't blow it, every girl I've ever liked "got away", but Vanessa is the Queen of them all. From autumn '02 to early '03 I was a goofy 21 year old loser enamored by a girl from suburban Ohio. Everything she liked was amazing, and everything she hated I did too. One thing we had in common was our love of metal, and not corny-era Judas Priest or 80's garbage. She liked real, legitimate metal and hardcore. Let me be clear, I knew a TON of girls who liked punk, that was pretty common, but until that time I'd never met a girl who would start a mixtape with Emperor and end it with Nico. It reminds me of that Freaks and Geeks episode where they all fall for the girl who they shoot off rockets with and at the end of the episode they ask something to the extent of How are we NOT supposed to fall in love with her?
Well, as with most starry-eyed stories that unfortunately happen in reality, this one didn't have a happy ending. She asked me to visit her but I was too nervous to take the train (this is a stark contrast to present-day Brian who enjoys driving to Montreal on a whim), so she came to New Jersey on New Years Eve where I was a less-than-superb host and over the next couple months we drifted apart (this also being mainly my fault). Completely botching a chance with someone amazing stands as good reason to neglect a mixtape. Listening now I have to say it still holds up, sure it may have three Dystopia songs, but of the ten bands on it I bought cd's by five of them. Ugh, now I'm depressed. I have no idea what became of her, she's probably in a major city by now, championing the little guy and the downtrodden. Perhaps working for Kucinich, almost certainly married.
Thinking back to how I acted nearly a decade ago, I'm not surprised I don't mind getting older. I'm not nearly as shy or oblivious as I used to be, and I've met plenty of girls since then that like metal and I have somehow managed to not fall in love with (all of) them. I'm not sure why I felt the need to recount all of this so long after the fact. I miss the confessional aspect of Livejournal, being able to share something with people who can then recall their own moments of stupidity or regret. We've all been there. There's something reassuring about looking back and admitting you used to be kind of ridiculous, and it's okay. It's even better with a soundtrack.



This drawing accompanied the tape Vanessa gave me. Maybe one day I'll write a book about her, I bet someone already has.

Trapped in The (Lord's) Closet

Last Thursday, having absolutely nothing to do on my lunch break, I decided to check out a tiny thrift store down the road from my office. I'd only been in there once before and was not wowed, but it was right next to an ice cream store so at the very least I might come away with a cone. The place is small and jam-packed with garbage. It looks like a garage full of crap threw-up on another garage full of crap. Barely visible aisles slowly emerged cluttered with discontinued and forgotten kitchen tools left un-boxed and hanging like vines. The entire back third of the store is covered in double-stacked, hideous clothing, adorned with a notice that reads ALL SHIRTS AND PANTS $3.50. - this was my first sign that the place was on another planet.
After perusing the audio cassettes and VHS (I thought I saw a movie called A Punk Christmas, but it was actually an animated feature called A Pink Christmas with the Pink Panther), I made my way toward the only thing I really ventured out for, records. Always, it's ALWAYS records. That divine gamble of forcing yourself to sift through hundreds of dusty, boring records to hopefully find just one or two that you wouldn't mind knowing you own. Thrift store records / thrift store record buying is different from any other excursion. You will be frustrated, just accept it before you even begin. You will see more classical compilations and musicals and strange ambient 50's records for entertaining housewives than you ever imagined existed. Do you know how many records Barbara Streisand or Connie Francis or Linda Ronstadt put out?? Anyone who's excavated thrift store record shelves knows that it's too many to count.
Surprisingly, this trip was going rather well, I flipped through four shelves of true garbage and more than a few misplaced laserdiscs, and actually found about 14 records I wouldn't mind picking up. I even found the unfailingly available copy of Emmerson, Lake & Palmer's Tarkus, a record that is famous (in some circles) for it's ridiculous artwork and inexplicable availability at any store selling used records.

To give you an idea of what I was dealing with, here's a few of the (heavily scratched and phenomenally dusty) records I was semi-stoked about finding: Rush's Fly By Night and Signals, Fleetwood Mac's Rumors and Tusk, some random Krokus record (which was located right next to Judas Priest's Unleashed In the East, which I purchased last Record Store Day), a record by Tim Curry (??), a children's record of Spooky Stories, Sam the Sham & The Pharaohs' Wooley Bully, a bubblegum pop compilation featuring The 1910 Fruitgum Company (pun certainly intended), some random radio station's Rock of New Jersey compilation from like '82, and some other junk. Nothing that I would consider paying more than $1 for (I would have gone to $2 for the Rush records, I'm really into them right now for some reason??), but also nothing that I would assume would cost more than $1.
I put my picks to the side and since there was no sign displaying record prices I headed to the front counter and very politely asked How much are the records? The reply kind of blew my mind. They start at $5, we have to check the list. I really should have known, there's a reason this place is overflowing with worthless trinkets, it's outrageously overpriced. Alright, thanks I said as I walked back to cram my choices back on to the shelf. I could hear a faint voice that sounded like Geddy Lee say, No, please, buy us...we've been here so long. Sorry guys.
It's funny when you come across people that think any vinyl, and I mean ANY vinyl is worth money. Just because you have Born to Run doesn't mean you can charge $5 dollars for it, in fact, it means you should charge nowhere near $5 for it because it's EVERYWHERE. These people don't understand how many copies of Hall & Oates and Police records are out there, in far better shape and being sold by people who get it. I mean, you can see in the Tarkus picture, there were records with no sleeves! Are they really gonna tell some dude he has to pay $5 for a bare copy of Candy-O??
They can run their business however they want I guess. It's just so frustrating, I feel as if there is an unwritten thrift store code and anything in that poor of shape can not be priced over $1. The other thrift store I go to has .99 scrawled in crayon on nearly every record in the place, except for the one time I saw a copy of Elton John's Madman Across the Water behind the counter for $10. You just have to laugh. I remember being like twelve years old going to a town-wide yard sale and finding the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack on vinyl. I was so excited that it was only fifty cents or whatever it was, This HAS TO BE worth money!! I didn't even own a record player but I picked it up right then, as a sort of investment for the future. In my defense, twelve-year-olds are dumb and I was no exception. Someone needs to let delusional thrift store folk in on the fact that their Journey records aren't worth the cardboard they're packaged in. I would have done it, but it's kind of mean.

MONTREAL II: The Lost World

It's true, I went back to Montreal this past weekend, and as I sit here on Tuesday morning (now making revisions on Thursday) I wish I was still there being woken up by the sound of friends making coffee with Patty's trademark stare in my face. I headed out on Friday morning, around 8:30am with a box of just under 50 cd's, a bag of (hopefully warm enough) clothes, directions AND a navigation system, and other miscellaneous necessities.

The drive was beautiful, for the most part, but after making a ridiculous stop in upstate New York for gas I was VERY happy to see the Exit signs become Exit/Sortie signs, it meant I was close. As with the past trip name-dropping McGill is the key to a quick stop at customs. They must assume friends of McGill students are too nerdy to be dangerous, which is fine with me. One of the few regrets of this trip is that I missed taking a picture of the Welcome to Quebec sign that sits at the beginning of Autoroute 15.

When I turned on my navigation system it had no idea where I was, it spent ten minutes telling me I was still in Hillsborough and that it was in fact an hour earlier than it actually was. After adjusting to it's surroundings, realizing it was in a hotel parking lot in Canada, and had missed Daylight Savings, it finally got me through the congested, construction-laden Montreal streets. Once I arrived at Christie's and negotiated parking in the BEST SPACE EVER, I (along with Sarah, another librarian) was immediately put to work assisting in carrying a futon frame and cushion back to the apartment. Eventually we realized the frame was incomplete but the cushion was well worth keeping as it felt like sitting on an ice cream sandwich. At least I thought so. After relaxing for a bit we went to pick up Megan from work and look for an Irish pub to get some dinner. It was great to see Megan again, she was overwhelmed with excitement following the Canadian government's vote of No-Confidence, telling us everything it meant as we strolled through town. Although she told me my positive feelings toward the Quebec flag were "vagrant opinions" I tried not to take it personally, you've got to have your facts straight around Ms. Stecyk. We eventually wandered into some random pub and after watching rugby and waiting 20-30 minutes for a table we got, literally, the best seat in the house. A little Guinness, a little seat shifting to better view televised curling, a little bit of one of the best burgers I've ever had, it was a top notch dining experience. I wonder now if my love of Montreal clouded my feelings on certain moments, but my time in The Pat Quinn Nook (as it came to be known) seems unaffected by circumstance. Maybe it was the budding romantic drama created in my mind between the all-around-great hostess and the suspenders-wearing waiter who seemed to spurn her advances for reasons unknown. As the meal progressed so did their soap opera, she struck a come-hither pose on the steps and he turned up his nose and walked away. I couldn't believe suspenders guy! As we all know, you either totally do, or totally do not pull of suspenders, and he only kinda pulled them off. I'm no stranger to poking holes in my own logic. You do know this is all happening in your mind, right? Megan asked me, pulling me back down to Earth. We spent a little more time in our nook, discussed our nightly options, found out that New Jersey has a better music scene than Montreal and had the dejected yet wonderful hostess snap this picture.

It became painfully obvious that the only real option was to return home and rest. Luckily there were David Attenburrow documentaries waiting for us at home. After being educated on various hawks (some of which hunt monkeys) and seeing just how bloody polar bears get when they eat (no one ever shows you that, it's ridiculous) we crawled into our ice caves and hibernated for the night.

Saturday was an odd day, the evening promised limitless frivolity (kinda), but my daylight hours were to be spent alone, just me and Patty. Christie and Megan shuffled off to work and I sat on the ice cream sandwich wondering what to do. The only real lead on a good time that I had was a record store recommendation from Bri, so I punched up some walking directions from my navigation system, bundled up, and told Patty that I'd be home soon. Almost instantly I realized I was over-bundled, something I truly can not stand. However I forged ahead to Sonik (corner of Berri and Duluth) and it was well worth the trip, easily one of the best record stores I've ever been in, USA included. The punk collection was typical but they had a room of nothing but great garage, 60's, psych, and all sorts of fuzzy odds and ends. After finding The Monks, The Headcoatees, and an Old King Cole Alexander/Bradford Cox split 10" that I didn't even know existed I had to remove myself from the store. I have a suspicion that most of (if not all of) Montreal's homeless are just avid music fans who couldn't resist and became victims of a great selection. Records are too expensive in MTL, but Sonik is the place to indulge. I then headed back home to change and say hi to Patty, and returned to the streets all sweatered and denim-jacketed. The only other moment worth mentioning was getting a constant hard sell from some vintage store owner who said eh so much you'd think his dialogue was penned by an American sitcom writer. As I perused a bowl of rock'n'roll pins he asked, Do you wanna see my...private collection? Absolutely! They were decent, yet overpriced in keeping with tradition. Being the pin maniac that I am I took what I could afford and said so long to the over sized Montreal Rock! and Love Will Tear Us Apart badges and split...but not before asking about and being given (free of charge) the Steve Ignorant/CRASS flyer hanging near the front window.

Then it was a few more stops and back to Patty and the quiet, sunny apt. The next few hours consisted of hanging in the kitchen listening to my latest mixtape on my walkman singing Patty's name in several of today's modern hits. Move on to a little relaxing reading of Ghost World until my two lovely roomies arrived home. Both had eaten (for free?) and I had had stopped at Tim Horton's, so we just hung out until the event which was the catalyst for my visit, party at Bri's.

It was a trek, hands filled with S'mars and gin and board games and cd's and whatever else, we arrived as a larger group than when we'd set out coming across another librarian and a linguist. The party was cool and people were super nice as I knew they would be, but I essentially knew NO ONE. Which of course I was ready for and accepted, meeting someone once six months earlier while watching Jurassic Park or dancing at Mod Night doesn't give you much of a conversational background. I'll thank the previously mentioned Sarah here for keeping me company on the bongos through much of the night before bailing early with a few other librariettes. There is something awesome about being at a party where you are more or less a stranger, you get to meet all kinds of people: ex-Winnipeggers, Philadelphians who know someone from your hometown, UN folk, random people who agree with you about the treacherousness of the basement stairs, some girl from Maine, and another girl who not only offers you gummi-worms but also remembers your name (I believe hers was Tash?? Something like that). It was a really good time and after snagging two seconds with the outrageously in-demand host to say farewell and thank you and then scrounging up bus fare myself, Christie, the linguist and the girl from Maine (Brian and Meg, respectively) had to hit the road. The ice cream sandwich (eventually) felt like a dream.

We awoke Sunday groggy and kind of blissfully aimless. I seem to remember Megan having to work, but I also don't remember her being gone, so perhaps I slept more than I thought. Christie made amazing pancakes and we listened to the CBC (a hallmark of Canadian visits) and just generally loafed the morning away. Eventually the urge to move took us over and Christie suggested we visit Old Montreal, the original city/port to take a look at ships, architecture, get some maple sweetened treats and maybe find some good souvenirs from antiquated Canadian sports teams (one of my all time favorite things). The wind on Sunday was worse than bitter, it was aggressively unpleasant, my four layers were no match for it's FURY! Old Montreal was really nice though, the maple sugar coffee bar we visited had the most ridiculously hip and hunky baristas I've ever seen, I was almost angry that they were also so adept at making hot chocolate. The wind, however, instantly changed my drink into lukewarm chocolate at best. We made our way through the port, past the ships and the Montreal Science Center stopping at a touch-screen event map to see what was going on once the weather warmed up.

To answer your question, yes I was standing on my toes in the above shot. Christie snapped a ton of pics as I discovered a Velcro Expos wallet and Quebec socks in a souvenir store. The most exciting event of the afternoon though was spotting what was either 1. Santa Claus on vacation. 2. God, dressed down. 3. The Lion from Narnia. or 4. A Mayan King. Some dude was dressed in what could only be described as a weird rug robe with a fluffy hat that kind of looked like hair, but also looked like buttered popcorn. He was also wearing jeans, boots, and sunglasses. It was truly abnormal and I feel so lucky to have seen it.

A quick stop at the grocery store and back home to relay the story of Lion-Santa-King-God to Megan and relax a bit more before the evening's pizza/movie festivities. I fell asleep with Ghost World over my face which, I was told, made it look like I WAS Enid. Which is fine with me. Once I informed Bri that I was in fact coming to MTL she invited me to a punk show that was taking place the night after her party. Although I appreciated the invitation and actually really did wanna go (it's been a long time since I've gone to anything heavy) I realized that only knowing one person at the show could turn me into a bit of a pest and as it was a Winnipeg band I didn't wanna get in the way of the reunion. All that being said, I'd like to thank Bri again for being so cool, and if the chance ever comes up again I will be there. So the night was set, Sci-Fi movies, homemade pizza and some dude named Adrian, an old friend of Megan's. The full extent of my knowledge of Adrain via Christe was: He draws dinosaurs. Haha. She may have said a bit more, but that was more than enough for me. He arrived looking and sounding bizarrely similar to another friend of mine named Chris. Over discussion of what to watch it became apparent that we four were in the mood to laugh and Groundhog Day was chosen as the pizza was served. It is from this point (around 7:30 maybe?) to about 12:30am that I and my dining partners do not stop laughing. Seriously, from Groundhog Day to Grandma's Boy (movies that oddly enough both featured songs written specifically for them) to Nick Swardson stand-up to Clone High (a hilarious show that I'd never even heard of) three of us had headaches from laughing by the end. Megan must have known what was coming and taken precautions, perhaps a pre-pizza Advil? It was an unbelievably fun night and a pretty perfect end to my visit. I can't say I ever thought I'd fall asleep while my inner monologue was in the voice of JFK.

Monday morning was weird in that I didn't know how long to stay, I didn't have a train to catch like I did last time, so it was kind of a limbo period. Christie was laid back as usual but I tend to think other people find me exhausting or intrusive, or some word like that, so I'm always assuming I'm overstaying my welcome. I decided to hit the road around 10:30 after factoring what kind of traffic I'd hit depending on other departure times. Looking back, I should have stayed longer, at least taken Christie up on her offer of brunch at some mysterious cafe (Rusty's? I want to say?). My trip home was completely devoid of joy, upon departure I listened to the Monks Black Monk Time all the way through twice and the first Tenacious D cd upon arrival home, the 5-6 hours in between were a mess. At one point I had to dodge garden tools that fell out of a pickup truck at top speeds, like hoes and rakes and all that garbage, hurtling towards the undercarriage of my lovely Civic! Are you serious!? I yelled as I swerved. That, of course, is not what I'm taking away from this little adventure. It was yet another unbelievably pleasant trip surrounded by people who are as considerate as they are intelligent and so fun to be around that it kept me awake on that ice cream sandwich. As I said in my last Canadian epilogue, I write this as no more than something to help me remember truly good times in my life, and to widely thank a varied group of people, think of it as a long winded public postcard that would otherwise read Thanks, Yr the best! opposite a picture of a goofy cat or disgruntled elderly iguana. I don't know, it all can sound a bit corny if you want it to, but I really do feel lucky to know all the people mentioned here.

International Women's Day

I used to wear a NOW (National Organization for Women) shirt that said "A woman's place is EVERYPLACE!" on the back. One day while wearing this shirt in my Speech class at college a dude that sat behind me said, "Hey, I bet that shirt helps you get chicks..." or something like that.
Keep fighting ladies, some guys still think you're THAT stupid.

Jimmy

I found this picture of my dad last night, it's one of my favorites. It's got a real "here I am, take it or leave it" feel, which is kind of how I try and live my life. When I gave this picture back to my mom last night (I feel like I borrowed it years ago, it was hiding in an old journal) the look on her face was the same she always gets when he comes up. It's been over 11 years since he died, which is insane to think about, but you can see she still really misses him. I had the opposite upbringing of what tends to be common for kids of my generation. Most of them had parents who hated each other and lived together until they got sick of each other and got divorced. My parents never lived together (not after I was born at least) but never got divorced and always loved each other. It was hard for my friends to wrap their heads around, understandably.

Here are some facts about my dad: He was a Marine sniper in Vietnam, he was actually shorter than me but infinitely stronger, he hated being called "dude", he was an excellent singer and wrote some really mind blowing poetry, he thought Barney the dinosaur was a dragon (for some reason I still find this hilarious), he carried a hunting knife everywhere, and was in a garage band in the 60's called Where's My Daughter (some guy once ran into their practice space and yelled that at one of them).

My mom told me that this picture was taken around the time they first met, which I estimate to be around '76?? I was born in '81 and they were together for years before I came along. They had a farm with all kinds of animals and several crazy ducks that I've heard more than a handful of stories about. Now, there's no way of knowing if what is so casually hanging from his lips is a "weed cigarette" or just some kind of rolled tobacco...I've never smoked pot in my life but I would never deny someone who had somewhat recently returned from serving in Vietnam a little relaxation. I remember bringing his Purple Heart medals in to show-and-tell and feeling like I totally smoked the competition. Only a certain kind of child can feel like he WON show-and-tell...I was this kind of child.

Let's not get it twisted, for the bulk of my adolescence my dad and I had a very tumultuous relationship. We always got along but I was very often embarrassed by his attitude and the way he acted. Chalk this up, as I later discovered, to the fact that I was a self-important whiny brat for the years in question. I didn't understand him and looking back on certain situations I'm actually embarrassed with how I acted. He didn't care how he was perceived and he was completely unashamed of who he was, which now I have great respect for, but at the time...ugh, let's just say I sucked and move on.

If your dad dies when you're a senior in high school you can't help but feel cheated, I was just beginning to understand him and vice-versa. I remember once he saw me in one of my Crass shirts that said Fight War Not Wars, Destroy Power Not People and he was really taken by it. That felt like one of those inter-generational moments where you connect with someone that was always a bit of a mystery, or at least had become one since you were a kid. I feel like that's the time, if you're a guy, when you're really supposed to get to know you're dad, once you are more-or-less, a man. Then again, I probably never would have become a man, or at least grown up and learned as much as I did from dealing with his death. It's hard to say, it's such heavy, life-altering stuff.

It's funny, I'm sitting here thinking of stories I could tell (or at least reference) and they're all slightly-to-very intense and could easily be misinterpreted. I hope I'm not making my dad seem like some kind of outlaw. He was just a guy who did everything he could to raise me right and keep me and my mom safe, which is exactly what a dad is supposed to do. I'm sure that not every kid spends time at his father's wake talking to his dad's old biker friends, but I did, and I'm thankful for it. You only get one dad and none of them are perfect but I'm glad James Muirhead was mine.

All the Single Ladies, All the Single Ladies...

Location: Brooklyn, New York. Dog-hair-covered love seat in my friend Rob's apartment.

Time: 9:35 am, much too early to be up, but my body has been conditioned to wake up early no matter what.

On my mind: How to people get together?

I want to a bar last night, simply because there was nothing else to do. My friend Rob and I sat at the bar talking about all the work we didn't get done that evening - we were sidetracked by about 5 hours of the television show Minute To Win It, a show that we agreed would not hold either of our attention for more than said minute if we were to watch it alone, but with someone to watch with the drama increases and you can get REALLY into it. Anyway, as we talked the bar began to fill up, it wasn't 30 minutes between our arrival at an empty bar until it was at capacity. I had to cross the dance floor to get to the bathroom and in trying to get around some dude I inadvertently became his momentary dance partner. I was unwilling to participate as his buddies shouted "Do you know that guy?!?!?!" I assure you folks, he does not.

As the night went on my primary activity became people-watching, a gaggle of hip-ly dressed and hairstyled girls dominated the outer dance floor near my seat. I couldn't tell if it was an anti-guy girls night or a let's-all-go-out-and-find-husbands girls night, but I've never seen anyone dance as disinterestedly as they did...until Beyonce came on, of course. There were dudes too, no different than any other dudes I've ever seen in my life. Bar dudes all wear the same shirt, they all have the same moves, and they're all on "The Hunt". It's ALWAYS bothered me, and I say always because I've spent a lot of my life in bars. My dad would bring me around to all the bars he frequented when I was young, and I'd play pinball or Centipede and watch the sadness. Admittedly, local town bars at 2 pm are different from hipster bars at midnight, but only in the age and lifestyle of the clientele. It's still only two kinds of men - hunters and people who go there just because that's where they go. It sucks that I'm such a bar veteran since I hate almost every one I've ever been to, it's just not my scene.

I don't understand the mentality of bar culture, "hooking-up" and whatnot, it doesn't appeal to me. When I see people leave together I think, What the hell are you two going to do now?? What is the conversation?? Where are you going?? It feels somewhat juvenile to feel that way, but what's the alternative? It seems so sordid, doesn't it? Not that it can't work, I know my parents met at a bar and they were very, very much in love. I guess it just weirds me out to be in such an obvious situation.

I've lost my train of thought since I've spent the last twenty or so minutes watching/listening to The Velvet Underground on Youtube. Probably better that I end where I did. It's no secret that everything I write about love and longing and all of that is just the matter of the moment spilling out of my head. What if I had met someone really cool last night, would I be sitting here talking about how wrong I was about bars all my life? Maybe, but the odds of that are such that I doubt I have to worry. I already know plenty of cool people, maybe I just need to relax. I'm really wishing I brought the first Velvet Underground record with me for the car ride home.

An Evening At Club Silencio

Last night before bed I got caught up watching David Lynch's Mulholland Drive. I haven't seen that movie in about...five or six years I guess, certainly not all the way through, since it's kind of agonizingly long if you're not up for it. Just about every DL movie has a boogeyman: Twin Peaks had Bob, Lost Highway had Robert Blake doing whoever that character was, Blue Velvet has Dennis Hopper being a complete maniac...Mulholland Drive's bogeyman is bit player but every ounce as terrifying. I believe the character is called "Bum", he seems to represent the seedy underbelly of Hollywood, or maybe a loss of innocence, or the dark side of fame. No matter what he actually IS, about 17 minutes into the film he gives a scare that I'm sure I'll never forget. This moment is the real reason I'm writing this at all.
The first time I saw this movie, however many years ago it came out, I was the first of the core group of my friends to see it. My friend Sean and I are huge fans of David Lynch and the first time the 'bum' arrives on the screen was so memorable that I had to tell him about it. I thought about this moment last night, I knew I paused the movie and got in touch with Sean to tell him how great it was so far, but I had no idea how I got in touch with him. My first viewing of this film pre-dates my having a cell phone- so it wasn't via text (I don't even know if texting existed back then), I had no internet access- so it's wasn't via email or whatever social network we were using at the time (Makeoutclub?? Friendster??), I was baffled. Once it finally hit me I felt like an idiot, I called him. I just plain CALLED him on the TELEPHONE. My big ol' beige rotary phone that I had back then. I called him and left a message (I think) about how awesomely terrifying the movie was thus far.
It seems like nothing really, but it was kind of an intense reminder of how communication has changed in just a few years. I never call anyone, honestly. My recent phone history is all calls to my house or to my work and that's it. Everyone else I know I communicate to with texts or on Facebook or Twitter. I'm not trying to put down social networking, I think it's great, and I'm not the kind of person who is going to sit here and say that I long for simpler times (though I do on occasion), that's not really what I'm talking about. It's simply the difference between letting a friend know about something great via a phone call vs. a series of tubes.
Sounds like old news reading it back, and of course it is. I don't know, it just struck me, so I figured I'd put it out there. Into the tubes.

IN DEFENSE OF VALENTINE'S DAY...

A list of 101 things that I love, in no particular order:

White sunglasses. Christmas music. Fake antagonism. Sing-a-longs. My friends. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Cool yet mostly useless superheroes like Hawkeye and Gambit. Water. Dioramas. Dustin Hoffman. Having somewhat deep conversations with people I've just met. Magazines. Canada. The movie Ed Wood. Checkered Vans slip-ons. Swimming. Mid-90's Jennifer Aniston. Sweaters. Bill Murray singing More Than This in the karaoke scene in Lost In Translation. Field trips. Hockey. Frank Lloyd Wright. Distance libs. Baby jungle cats. Dancing. Having very deep conversations with people I've known for a long time. The way that Scottish singers half-sing and half-talk their lyrics. Mummies. Audrey Horne. Making faces. When people look really good in leather jackets because I know I could never pull it off. The Galapagos Islands. Polka dots. Jean-Luc Godard. Being in a taxi in Manhattan. When girls wear monogrammed clothing. Every single thing about John Waters. Cool t-shirts. Outer space. Early R.E.M. Tony Kornheiser. Water parks. Oscar Wilde. Camo shorts in the summertime. Lo-fi. Cupcakes. The movie Fright Night. Sending and/or receiving postcards. Being from New Jersey. Aquafresh toothpaste. Argyle socks. Miniature golf. The B-52's. Libraries. Creeping fog. Seeing turtles in the wild. Trapper Keepers. French anything. Finding other people who still listen to cassettes. Phil Hartman. Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Lemmy. Dinosaurs. Michael J. Fox. Shirts with snap buttons rather than regular buttons. The Union Jack. 30 Rock. Vermiform Records. Wearing a tie. Billy the Exterminator. Kids between the ages of 1-5 (before they become obnoxious). Balki Bartokomous. Thrift stores. Lemons. White Zombie. High school history textbooks. JANE. Hanging out. Frida Kahlo. John Dwyer. Border collies. Air conditioning. Romantic comedies. A nice long walk. Scarves. Staying overnight. Robert Cormier books. Being humorously creeped-out. Lemonade. Advil. Songs about monsters. Wrap-around porches. Zooey. The Aggro Crag. Chocolate milk/hot chocolate. My family. Apples to Apples. Scary Stories To Tell In the Dark. In-depth discussions of Mad Men. The movie Clue. Kathleen Hanna.

DISTANCE LIBS: VOLUME TEN

"The Planets"

There are nine planets in our solar system. They all dawdle around the hunk, which is what scientists call the sun. The sun is a gigantic ball of noble, which has been doggy-paddling for millions of years. Jupiter is the largest Big League Chew in our solar stuffed crust pizza. Earth is the fifth largest Roomba. We must always remember, however, that we live in a very sardoodledom solar system, which is only a tiny baby in the galaxy, which is part of the whole bodacious universe. Saturn is almost as large as Jupiter. It is surrounded by a big linguine, which is really a lot of small moons and pieces of rock that are spelunking around the planet. The planet closest to the sun is called Esta and the one farthest away is called Reuben.

DISTANCE LIBS: VOLUME NINE

"Bird-Watching and Vice Versa"

Bird-watching can be more fun than a barrel of Popes. Our dastardly feathered friends are everywhere, waiting to be watched. An interesting bird to start with is the electrifying oriole, which builds it's nest in Wizard Island trees. Early in spring, we hear the oriole give it's mating call, which sounds like this: "Green-Tea-Frap." Then the male and female get together and mutate. Later, the female lays four billion quintzillion million eggs. Isn't that incandescent? Another fascinating bird is the opulent-breasted nuthatch. The nuthatch is very tame. He will fly down and land right on your inner ear and eat out of your woodland creatures. Other birds to watch out for are the red-crested Spanish Goldblum, the famous-necked thrush, and the yellow-bellied Patty sucker. Now that you know something about birds, get out there and watch!

Winston and Rufus Sing the Hits

I spent the bulk of Saturday and Sunday with my buddy Rob at his place in Brooklyn working on projects for the future, talking about television and dogs and whatever people in their late-twenties to early-thirties talk about. When I mention the fact that we were working, picture George and Jerry in his apartment trying to write the pilot for his NBC sitcom, though I believe we got farther than they did on their first try. When I mention talking about television, I mean of course that we watched the first episode of the new NBC superhero drama The Cape, and I only bring it up to warn others, avoid this show at all cost. It's uncommonly bad. However, there were one or two things on the tube worth watching.
Yes, that is the airplane scene from Jurassic Park III. It's hard to argue that JP3 is a good movie when the opposition can point out that raptors will NOT eat you if you simply give them back their egg and blow into a state-of-the-art raptor voicebox.

Anyway, besides TV the only other entertainment was Rob's dogs, Winston and Rufus, blurrily pictured here begging for food like...well, animals.

These are some great pups, a little in your face, occasionally barky, true shed-machines, but fine company.

The rest of the visit was pretty standard, a bar with an Avatar pinball machine (seems too current, what are you trying to prove??), a jukebox that must have made a fortune (two bucks for seven songs that never played, even after 2 1/2 of waiting), and an assortment of games (I had to restrain myself from asking strangers if I could join their Apples to Apples jamboree). Leaving there I picked up an ill-advised 4am quesadilla and attempted to get some rest on love seat that Rufus would soon make his own.

It's not hard to see here that I don't really have a ton to say about this weekend, but it was a great time and I'm making an effort to write more about day-to-day life (should help to stir the creative juices) and take more pictures (why buy a camera if you're not going to use it?). Maybe 2011 can be a return to form of sorts, there's so much worth remembering.

Remainders and Reminders

I've spent the last five days, to put it as simply as possible, sad. It hasn't been constant or overwhelming or obsessive (though all three have come close), it's just been an overall emotional malaise that I can't kick. My personal life has been thrown into upheaval lately and the general post-holiday grayness and solitude hasn't helped any. Every time I hear the word sad I think of that Simpsons episode where Lisa has the note that says she can't participate in Gym class because she is sad. Oh, the life of an only-child, television as touchstone, cartoons as companions. If only The Cable Guy was a better film, maybe some of us would have received the help we so desperately needed.
How do other people get over things? I feel like I've spent every day of my life trying to forget someone or something, and I'm completely clueless on whether or not that is something we all have in common. I have friends that it would seem let everything roll right off their back and hardly ever feel the need to give a second thought to things that would consume me. I think the answer is in my head as I'm typing right now, the idea that I don't want to get into it. I don't feel like it's worth mentioning, or maybe somehow that I'm putting anyone out by letting them know what's going on in my head. So why am I writing? The idea of screaming in an empty room comes to mind.
As with everything else in my life I turn to music. Don't worry, this isn't some long winded pseudo-sappy introduction to a Top 5 Albums To Cry To list, that feels like it would be far too depressing to even attempt to write. No, all I'm really saying is that my time as-of-late has been spent surrounded by the only things in the world that let me feel like myself no matter what's going on. Unfortunately, most of the music I've purchased lately has been what Barry would describe as "old sad bastard music" and has only exacerbated the gloom. I picked a hell of a time to get into the Microphones! My Roots Are Strong and Deep is a beautiful song but leave it on repeat and it's basically an auditory OD of sleeping pills. Same thing with Dragon by The Amazing, as lovely as it is, it couldn't sound like more of a 60's throwback kick in the teeth.
My love of detail tends to die a quick and relatively painless death anytime I begin to feel this way. Another casualty of assuming no one actually wants to know what's wrong. Specificity seems pointless anyway, and love of detail has been reborn as the urge for anonymity. Besides, maybe if what was actually bothering me was specific I could treat it as such. I'm left wondering if I've ever had a positive beginning-of-the-year. The older I get the more mature certain problems become, fittingly. Used to be it was a girl not paying attention to me while my debilitating shyness stabbed me in the back. Who would've thought I'd long for those days, but I was surrounded by friends and the hope of tomorrow night. I guess I still am, I know I still am, but opportunities dwindle and you realize regrets you never knew you had. This, I know, is universal.
I guess bravery is at the forefront these days. Having the fortitude and energy to go after the things I really want, it's never been my strong suit. Just writing that seems self-defeating, something I'm desperate to shake off in every facet of my life. How can I lament opportunities if I never make the effort, and how can I expect anyone to care? It's like living stage fright, I'm not quite retreating, but I'm doing enough not to progress. Maybe that's why I'm writing. It's one thing to think it, it's a whole other to let it out publicly and let people know that you know it just the same as they do. I don't get stage fright. I wrote and performed an anti-drug play in 5th grade at a D.A.R.E. assembly! The issue, which just hit me actually, is material. The worry that I don't have "what it takes", as they say. That seems like a joke, but upon reflection, it's been with me since the start.
Good god, it's everything at once lately. If I was someone else I'd say I need a vacation! Relaxation, in my experience, comes from contentedness so therefore a vacation would be useless. I guess maybe I just needed to (reservedly) spill my guts and allow myself to say that sometimes life gets rough. I feel ridiculous but that's nothing new and it's all in the sake of evolution, so I'll embrace it.

A Stroll Down Memory Lame

This is a survey I found in my old Livejournal, the recollections are approximate but accurate.

15 years ago, I:

1. Was 14.
2. Went and saw Ozzy by myself (while my aunt waited in the parking lot), and was passed a joint and refused because I was scared and I didn't know what it was.
3. Had hair down to my shoulders and looked like a weird, crappy Kurt Cobain.
4. Brought my iguana Skt in to school when she broke her arm because she had a huge U-shaped cast across her front arms (or are they legs??)
5. Was just getting in to punk after my friend Matt gave me a cassette with a Fat Wreck Chords compilation and a Screeching Weasel album on it.

10 years ago, I:

1. Was 19.
2. Repeatedly cut math class my first year of college to hang out with some girl I had a crush on.
3. Was still driving my first car, the awesome Prelude.
4. Constantly made mixtapes because my awesome Prelude had a tape deck.
5. Was a total loser.

5 years ago, I:

1. Was 24.
2. Had my first ever girlfriend and lived in a house with 4 of my best friends.
3. Worked at Barnes & Noble, at the time I think I had just started in the Cafe.
4. Often stayed up very late playing Space Hospital (a pirated version of Dr. Mario that came in a console shaped like a penguin that we named Esteban after seeing The Life Aquatic).
5. In a Communications class presentation where we had to share things about ourselves I played footage of my high school band Rowsdower, brought in a clothes-less Michael Jackson doll I've had since I was little, and explained in the ins and outs of creating mixtapes to a classroom full of people who (kind of) couldn't care less.

3 years ago, I:

1. Was 26.
2. Lived with said first girlfriend and started my current job.
3. Had a horrible diet leading to weight gain and the eventual loss of my gallbladder.
4. Was still using Myspace.
5. Was exceedingly boring.

1 year ago, I:

1. Was 28.
2. Was praying that I would never again have a kidney stone (side effect of the week of hospitalization and subsequent week of bed rest from my laparoscopic cholecystectomy and pancreatitis).
3. Had crushes on several girls (said girlfriend and I broke in up early-'09) that, looking back, were ridiculous. The crushes, not the girls. It would be some time before I remembered how to be single, and how much I enjoyed it.
4. At some point was introduced to Apples to Apples (and life would never be the same).
5. Got very, very in to 30 Rock (and life would never be the same).

Yesterday, I:

1. Was 29.
2. Made up substitute names for Count Chocula out of boredom.
3. Listened to a record by The Cato Salsa Experience that I LOVED in '02 (it didn't do much for me yesterday).
4. Wore argyle socks.
5. Woke up at 3am to Iron & Wine playing on a Jimmy Fallon rerun (though I guess that should count for early today, right?)

Today, I:

1. Really wanna find Esteban and see if I can get him to work again.
2. Am thankful that it's Friday (which is a trite, businessy thing to say, but today it's very true, so why not?)
3. Hope to go out and party, however the odds are not in my favor.
4. Changed my Facebook profile picture to the cover of the French version of my favorite Goosebumps book The Girl Who Cried Monster.
5. Have not texted anyone.

Tomorrow, I:

1. Will forge a lasting peace between the Israelis and the Palestinians.
2. Will find a bag of money and use it to create a home studio and begin recording music under the moniker Elegance Squared.
3. Will enter an Apples to Apples tournament and after 5 days of intense non-stop competition, will come in fourth.
4. Will discover a secret, hidden rainforest in my backyard - but will be too tired from all that other stuff to do any exploring.
5. May discover that I can't predict the future.

Haikus of Love: A Trinity.

Romantic rumba
My heart is the canister
For sadness droplets.

I'll play saxophone
Through your window
2 seduce U, girl. (Or boy, depending on personal preference).

I can't believe your
Favorite restaurant is
Applebee's. That's gross.

Sweeping Generalizations Under the Rug: 2010 - The Year in Review

Let me be brief, this is my third annual countdown/wrap-up/summation/celebration of the best (and worst) records, songs, and miscellanea in music. As always I like to state that I am not a professional reviewer, meaning only that I don't get paid (or published) and I don't get free records from labels. The only explanation for this list, I guess, is my compulsive need to categorize, criticize, and share with other music lovers. Thank you to anyone who takes the time to read, agree/disagree, and/or respond to this - my personal documentation of 2010, a surprisingly decent year in music.
Note: The only list that is presented in order of quality is the Top Ten Albums list, everything else is just collected, not ranked.

Top Ten Albums of 2010:

1. Innerspeaker by Tame Impala - This record is outstanding. Not because of some existential nonsense or groundbreaking instrumentation or genre defining paradigm shift, but just because of how it sounds. The actual music is perfect, it's one of the most pleasurable listening experiences I've ever had (and it better have been since I paid like thirty dollars for it, damn Australian import prices). Tame Impala blend catchiness, spaced-out effects, and garage crunch better than anyone using that formula right now, which is saying a lot, but they do it in a way that isn't overstated or obvious. Alter Ego, Desire Be Desire Go, and I Don't Really Mind are so effortlessly enjoyable it's as if they were created by some kind of Skynet-esque computer system to overthrow the world of popular music. However, Tame Impala is just a trio of Aussie dudes making a lot of (much appreciated) noise. Ironically, the only song I tend to skip is the album's first single Solitude Is Bliss, everything else is gold. The experimental era Beatles come to mind as an influence in both vocal style and song writing, but honestly, when don't they? Andorra era Caribou and Dungen are probably the best current touchstones (actually, Tame Impala sound exactly like what I hoped Dungen would sound like when I first got into them, no disrespect to Dungen). The overall vibe of this record is a kind of kaleidoscopic Earthtone voyage, the best of what this exact type of genre can create. Seriously brilliant.

2. No Mas by Javelin - Dance music. It was one of my very first loves, an only child listening to the radio every night, who could resist Rhythm Is A Dancer? Once you love dance music it never goes away, it gets in your marrow. I feel a kinship with the Brookylnites that make up Javelin because No Mas is a love letter to dance music. It's not disco, because it's a DJ record, and it's not a DJ record because it's more expansive than that - if that makes sense. I can't imagine that much (if any) of this record is instrumentation rather than electronic programming, but it feels present and live in a way that most other DJ/electronic bands either can't or don't want to achieve. It's got heart is more or less what I'm trying to say. Shadow Heart and Off My Mind are honest-to-goodness love songs, perfect for lonely yet optimistic drives home. No Mas does have another trick up it's sleeve however, it's also fun. Remember fun? Remember actually enjoying music? The tracks come and go unobtrusively and are infinitely replay-able. We Ah Wi, Oh Centra (which finally makes good use of that weird high-pitched singing effect that I usually hate), and Moscow 1980 are fantastic and build on the reputation Javelin already have in certain circles. I'd also love to know why soothing and enigmatic closer Goal/Wide wasn't the official theme song of the 2010 World Cup. This is a smart, fully-realized, and infectious dance record that anyone who cares should be all over.

3. Heartland by Owen Pallett/Final Fantasy - I can't even really begin to discuss or dissect Heartland, it's otherworldly, it's not something you see on the shelf every year. Owen Pallett has spent years arranging and composing music for highly acclaimed bands (Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear) as well as crafting his own orchestral masterpieces under the Final Fantasy pseudonym (which I hope he keeps, or at least makes up his mind about). Heartland is his first "big" album, at least, it's the first one that's getting any kind of mass attention. His music is based around violin loops and orchestral backing along with his peculiar sort of dynamic altar boy vocal delivery. I thought this record was a flop after the first few listens, but it has a slow-burn style to it, it's delicate and tragic and gorgeous if you can appreciate the care that has been taken. The pinnacle is reached with Oh Heartland, Up Yours! (X-Ray Spex references always work on me), an almost too-quiet-for-it's-own-good not-quite-centerpiece that is either an indictment or a celebration of Pallett's native Canada - or about something else entirely (I told you I couldn't discuss or dissect this record!!). Red Sun No. 5 and The Great Elsewhere are other personal faves, but this album (maybe more than any other I'll mention) needs to be experienced independently. Take it on a long car trip or just put on your headphones and let it go, Heartland is worth your time.

4. This is Happening by LCD Soundsystem - Ever since I got into LCD Soundsystem I've been kind of half-assedly obsessed with the man behind it all, James Murphy. Not uncommon for dudes of my ilk. Nevertheless, I read articles about him, buy almost everything he has a hand in, and keep my eyes peeled for him whenever I'm in New York or at a record store - he is from Princeton Junction after all. All that being said, I didn't love the last LCD record (2007's Sound of Silver) and I kind of wasn't super excited for this record. I bought it, it sat around in my room, I'd listen from time to time, 'Oh, All I Want is a pretty good song', ho-humming it all the way. It wasn't until about a month or two ago that I really sat with it and let it sink in. Obvious revelation - it's phenomenal. Every song is a quality listen, though occasionally I may skip Drunk Girls or Somebody's Calling Me, but that's just moodiness at work. The opener, Dance Yrself Clean is nearly nine minutes long and engrossing from start to finish, All I Want is probably the best song Murphy's ever written, and Home perfectly closes out the record and maybe the band if Murphy stays true to his promise to "quit" after finishing this album's tour. Not only are James Murphy and LCD Soundsystem the epitome of a full-band, hardworking dance music act, but this record serves as a document of certain success for an artist (and I rarely use that word) doing exactly what he wants, exactly the way he wants.

5. Before Today by Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti - I was introduced, musically, to Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti in the summer of 2005 and ever since then I've been waiting for this record. Before Today is his first legitimate studio album with a REAL band and REAL drums (previous records had surprisingly well done mouth-drumming) and, maybe most important of all, REAL expectations. APHG has been plugging away for years, keeping it LO-FI, writing songs about life in LA, saving yourself for Kate Bush, and of course evil. There was always the aura of nonchalance about his CD-R's and AM-radio-at-the-bottom-of-the-sea production style, but now he's on 4AD, the game has changed. To quote Rock n' Roll High School, "this is the big time girlie, this is rock n' roll". Before Today is, as I had imagined, unflinching. Ariel's psychotic pop compositions are just as great as ever, they just sound better now. He hits all the marks: un-ironic Alan Parsons soft-rockiness (Can't Hear My Eyes), South-Californian teenie-bopping (Beverly Kills), and a truly brilliant and absurdly catchy cover of a forgotten nugget called Bright Lit Blue Skies. There's a cool Crass-style bass line to open Revolution's A Lie and my personal favorite, Fright Night, has a demonic synth hook that will stay stuck in your head for days. Before Today is visionary in the way that only Ariel Pink tends to be and is the sound of an underground genius making good on years of promise.

6. Relayted by Gayngs - I know almost nothing about Gayngs except that they have a great name and are apparently some sort of supergroup. The $1.99 copy of this record that I purchased came with nothing but a track listing and CD, but these days I'll go for anything on Jagjaguar. After about thirty seconds of unprejudiced listening I was hooked. If you can allow yourself to appreciate a band that blends 80's buddy-cop movie guitar solos, Bone Thugs-N-Harmony style vocal layering, more than a touch of Godley & Creme, and an unwaveringly earnest approach then you may just fall for this record the same way I did. Opening track, The Gaudy Side of Town is true baby-making-music and sets down a groove unlike any other heard this year. Gayngs inhabit a space populated by electric pianos, echoing saxophones, and far-off dub drumming reminiscent of the short-lived pre-Mars Volta act Defacto. Maybe all you need to know about this record can be understood through some of the song titles: Spanish Platinum, Faded High, and The Last Prom on Earth seem to say more than I ever could. There is a misstep here and there, but overall this record is refreshingly different and incredibly well-made.

7. Strange Weather, Isn't It? by !!! - 2007's Myth Takes was a bit of a revelation, I've wanted to like this band ever since the early 00's, the days of Dance Punk, or whatever we called it back then. !!! (Chk Chk Chk) is one of the only bands to survive that era along with Liars and, to a much lesser degree, The Rapture. Myth Takes was amazing and essentially what I had always hoped they would sound like, so I was pretty eager for the next record. However, in Novemeber 2009 !!! member and all-around NYC multi-tasker Jerry Fuchs died tragically when he fell down an elevator shaft. I'm unclear as to how far into the recording process they were, Fuchs does appear on one track, fittingly it's the closer, The Hammer. Soldiering on and employing a crew of replacement drummers and additional instrumentalists !!! released Strange Weather, Isn't it? and once again created something both entertaining and genre defying. After you get past the mediocre opening track AM/FM it's a solid block of about six really solid funk/dance-rock songs from the shimmer of The Most Certain Sure to the dark soulfulness of Hollow. With the addition of a great supporting cast and solid production Strange Weather, Isn't It? outshines Myth Takes and prepares !!! for a break in to the mainstream...too bad the mainstream's idea of funk begins and ends with Maroon 5.

8. Maniac Meat by Tobacco - The day I purchased this record I had serendipitously run into two old friends at the record store. On the walk to get dinner before seeing Piranha 3D I let them know my feelings on Tobacco: "It's the dude from Black Moth Super Rainbow and all the songs pretty much sound the same, so you kind of either like it or you don't, and I do." That being said, this record is great. It really is, it's got an unassailable quality to it, it feels immune to criticism. I'm not saying it's a perfect record, but it moves along with a dirty insouciance and it doesn't care if you're on board. Songs like Sweatmother and Motorlicker (Tobacco's song titles are pretty incomparable) are what I would imagine punks would listen to in bad movies about apocalyptic futures. If Total Recall came out today I wouldn't be surprised to hear Tobacco playing in a Mars nightclub. The real feather-in-the-cap of Maniac Meat is Fresh Hex, one of two tracks with guest vocals from Beck. Complete with alliteration in the key of "C", Fresh Hex comes and goes before you can even appreciate it's sleazy beauty. Luckily this record sounds as fresh on the twentieth listen as it does on the first. One or two points off for some overly-long tracks towards the end and the creepiest (in a bad way) cover art of the year, but Maniac Meat is another huge step forward and easily the best recording to come out of the Black Moth Super Rainbow camp to date.

9. Transference by Spoon - As their popularity grows, one day someone is going to have to compile a Spoon Greatest Hits collection, anyone familiar with the band's catalogue can imagine what a daunting task this will be. I saw Spoon earlier this year and something you can easily forget is just how many great songs Britt Daniel and Co. have written over the past 16 years. They played for hours and I found myself saying, "Oh yeah this one...oh yeah that one...oh right, Jonathon Fisk!!" It's absurd. The point I'm trying to make, albeit slowly, is that the aforementioned eventual task got a bit harder this year. Transference serves as a strange yet fan-pleasing follow-up to 2007's would-be hit-maker Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga. This album is more claustrophobic and metered and even a signature stomper like Trouble Comes Running is muted and reserved - although that doesn't take away from it being one of the best songs they're ever released. Before Destruction and Who Makes Your Money are somewhat coy but unmistakeably mid-tempo Spoon while Written In Reverse and Got Nuffin are the kind of rockers that no Spoon record comes without. Is Love Forever and The Mystery Zone are a little under and over-cooked, respectively, but don't hurt the overall appeal of the album. Spoon has been this good for a long time and it's nice to see that they're not afraid to do something left-of-center. They made a fan-centric record when they were primed to crossover, effectively showing us what really matters.

10. In the Court of the Wrestling Let's by Let's Wrestle - I bought this record for two reasons. 1. It's on Merge, and 2. The title, I hate to pass up a good King Crimson reference. Off to a Princeton side street, into my car and on with the awkwardly yet wistfully named Let's Wrestle. About a minute into the first track I decided that I would never again buy an unknown CD at full price, that's how much I disliked whatever this crap was. Driving home I kind of warmed up to the lead singer's odd, unpolished voice and the songwriting definitely got better as it moved along. Mix in a few classic lonely guy lyrics and I was a fan by the time I pulled in the driveway. Let's Wrestle, as it turns out, are a charmingly amateurish group of punks (??) from England. The real strength in this album is in it's nostalgic feel, every time I hear it I feel like it should have been released on Elephant 6 or Kindercore in the late 90's. It's not punk, as the members of LW have stated, at least not musically, but it does have the energetic spirit of bands like Olivia Tremor Control and Elf Power. Usually the 10 spot on my lists is reserved for underachievers, but this year I thought I'd change it up completely. Let's Wrestle have the potential to not only be a reminder of what was great in the past but also a really fun off-beat success story.


Top 15 Songs of 2010 (that are not featured on the Top 10 Albums):

1. Lottery Dust from Feel Good Together by Drummer - Maybe my favorite song of the year?? I don't know. No, probably not, but great nonetheless. Drummer is a sort-of supergroup with the drummer from The Black Keys (playing bass), the guitar player from (one of my favorite bands ever) The Party Of Helicopters (playing guitar for the first time since POH broke up), and a few other Ohio natives - all of which are primarily drummers, hence the awful name. The record is decent, six or seven really strong songs, but Lottery Dust is a monster and the only track where they really seem to be at full-power.

2. Sentimental X's from Forgiveness Rock Record by Broken Social Scene - I got REALLY into BSS this year, kind of out of nowhere. I was going through a Canadian band phase (which persists!) and I figured I'd give them a listen. I see now that I always had the wrong impression of them. They're really skilled at building on a single structure and turning it into something you didn't expect. It also seems like their secret formula has something to do with a vocal cadence that I can't accurately describe in words, sort of a fragile pacing and momentary change in pitch. Anyway, Sentimental X's is amazing, it's a real wool blanket of a song. A compact little drum beat and soft, slowly ascending vocals make it a perfect pop song.

3. Swim from Astro Coast by Surfer Blood - I don't know what it is about this song, I just love it. The record wasn't great, the band doesn't seem very interesting, but this one just hooked me. Described by the band as a mix between The Cure and Andrew W.K., it's much closer to Party Hard than Charlotte Sometimes, but it's a severely catchy simple track that's easy to fall for.

4. Helicopter from Halcyon Digest by Deerhunter - When I saw Deerhunter this past summer this is what they opened with and what struck me more than anything was the bass. It was dominating, and although the album version is less drastic and has a strange, almost metronome sounding drum track, it's still a really stunning song. The soothing vocal delivery and gentle guitar work are juxtaposed with the intense subject matter giving it a distinctly Deerhunter feel. The album may have been a letdown (wait for it) but this song is fantastic.

5. Scrappy from Oh, Light by Careful - As far as I can tell this record slipped through the proverbial cracks the moment it was released, I never heard a word about it. I bought it for $1.99 because it looked interesting and was very pleasantly surprised. Think Horn of Plenty era Grizzly Bear, really intimate bedroom pop with the standard glitchiness and reverb you'd expect from something released circa now. Scrappy is short and sweet and the kind of hidden treasure that record stores were made for.

6. If You Can't See My Mirrors from Together by The New Pornographers - I may be biased, but New Pornographers tracks where Destroyer mastermind Dan Bejar takes lead vocal tend to be my favorites. Together was another strong effort from these indie stalwarts and I suppose I could have chosen almost any cut to make my list, but this one has a particular hold on me - probably because I dislike the title so much. Is it about a truck driver falling in love? Who knows, it's just a quirky, enjoyable song which is standard for these guys.

7. Down On Loving from The Soft Pack by The Soft Pack - Formerly known as The Muslims, The Soft Pack play VERY straightforward rock music that I tend to think they view as slightly more subversive than it is. This is the best song from a mostly forgettable album with three or four really nice tracks. C'mon is just as good.

8. Vacation from Beach Fossils by Beach Fossils - I heard this song one time on the radio but missed the artist run-down, I then spent the next two days searching the station's website for the name of this band. All I knew was that it came on around 8am and that the Velvet Underground were played right after. On the second day I realized I was looking at the wrong listing, found the correct one, and instantly was on the hunt for Beach Fossils. Not dissimilar to Real Estate (...and I imagine a thousand other bands), I have no problem with this type of sound flooding the indie marketplace. This song was also the unofficial theme song for my October trip to Montreal.

9. Stylo from Plastic Beach by Gorillaz - Let me set the record straight: I don't like Blur and I don't like Gorillaz, but this song is SO GOOD that I actually went out and bought this record...used. Simply put, this song is irresistible. Other than On Melancholy Hill the rest of the album is exactly what I expected, but Stylo is gonna be around for a while, deservedly so.

10. Post Acid from King of the Beach by Wavves - No one likes Wavves. Well, apparently some people do, but I haven't met any of them. On this new album the traditional Wavves sound has been somewhat cast aside for a cleaner more 'radio-friendly' vibe, and I have no problem with that. The record overall is so-so, just like the previous releases, but the sense of enjoyment that comes through in the really good songs has kept me listening. It's nice that there's a band out there that is so devoutly juvenile in it's efforts, nothing here is to be taken seriously which is a relief from the layers of pretense that tend to coat so many other current releases.

11. Mouthful of Diamonds from Eyelid Movies by Phantogram - I heard this song about 40,000 times on the radio this year, and probably all from the same DJ. This song has a familiarity about it and will tend to stick with you until you hear it a second and third time. This is what people mean when they say a song is crafted. It sounds groomed. Every moment is just right and I'm shocked I haven't heard it on a commercial yet.

12. Digging For Something from Majesty Shredding by Superchunk - I'd like to subtitle this song How Not To Get Soft After 20+ Years. More than just being cool, this should serve as a reference to the scores of aged bands who are trying to regain their long-lost magic. It's not easy to remain relevant for so many years, but it would seem Superchunk hasn't lost a step.

13. I Remember from Odd Blood by Yeasayer - Can I give two seconds of praise to a hipster band for writing a legitimate love song before you roll your eyes? I guess I don't even know what hipster music is anymore, is everything I mentioned hipster stuff? Who cares. This is a seriously beautiful song from one of the best named bands in music.

14. Walk In The Park from Teen Dream by Beach House - The duo behind Beach House kicked it up a notch this year. Their last record was good, a little too somber and occasionally uneven, but decent. This one, however, was great. It feels like things have finally congealed, their sound is completely hypnotic and every song draws you in. This track seemed to stand out to me, but wherever you turn on Teen Dream you can't really go wrong.

15. In Every Direction from Fields by Junip - Junip is the band that singer/songwriter Jose Gonzales was with prior to his solo work, and this is their first release since an EP back in 2006. It's a really great record and this song is one of the strongest, maybe being the opening track gave it more of an impression, but it's undeniably catchy. I'd also like to take a moment to advise all mellow stoners to buy this record, or download it, or whatever you stoners do.


Top 5 Favorites of 2010, Not Of 2010 (Meaning that I didn't get into these records/artists until this year, just to clarify):

1. Fits by White Denim - Why is this band not extremely popular? Why was this CD buried under the counter with a $1.99 sticker on it? I'll tell you why: Because no one cares that this album was ever released. As hyperbolic as that sounds (and of course it's supposed to be) I don't think it's very far off. This record has a little bit of everything from My Bloody Valentine-esque walls of sound to legitimate southern riff-rock to cleverly plodding guitar jams. I heard a few things about this band in magazines here and there, but not until I heard the record did I really pay any attention. Fits offers something that not many other records do and is completely underrated and worth discovering.

2. Japandroids - Like several other entities that I now love (LCD Soundsystem, No Age, and the TV show Garth Marenghi's Darkplace to name a few) I arbitrarily disliked Japandroids until I gave them a chance. I didn't like their album cover, or the fact that their songs were so long, or whatever else. It's an issue I've always struggled with, but it's rather easily overcome. Japandroids are a duo out of Vancouver that play simple, shouty, up-tempo not-quite-punk/post rock. They supply endless sing-a-longs and have released two records - 2009's Post Nothing and 2010's No Singles (a collection of earlier, previously released recordings). Both of these records are worth checking out, the first three tracks on No Singles should be more than enough to draw you in.

3. No Age (and to a lesser degree Mika Miko)- Why did it take me so long to give No Age a chance? Oh, that's right, because I don't trust SUB POP. Unless it's a David Cross comedy album, I look at anything on that label through squinted, glaring eyes, as if it's a pack of wild teens loitering outside of a...wait a minute...the last David Cross album sucked too! Anyway, No Age is something of an anomaly: A legitimately punk guitar and drum duo with experimental tendencies on a fairly major label, who regularly update thier blog, play on national TV, and get nominated for Grammies. I guess the duo-as-rock-group template is fairly common these days, probably another reason I was so wary. No Age's sound is comprised mainly of fuzz, crackle, and shouts, but in a bubblegum kind of way, and is completely devoid of swagger, which is uncommon to say the least. Perhaps if I'd had enough time to completely digest their new record Everything In Between it would have made my top ten, I'd say it currently sits at #14 or 15, and the track Shed and Transcend is a current favorite.
After discovering No Age I also discovered some of the other bands from their scene, chief among them Mika Miko, an all-girl (though it appears they've added a dude or two) punk band that blends the sounds of post punk and classic California punk. A little Delta 5, a little Adolescents, and just the right amount of snottiness. These two bands are great examples of current West Coast punk for discerning listeners.

4. There's No 666 In Outer Space by Hella - As far as I knew, when I plucked this disc from the used bin, Hella was an extremely talented experimental instrumental two piece, and that was enough for me. There's No 666 In Outer Space was a bit of a shock in that this record features a full band, sprawling epically technical songwriting, and a maniacal singer who sounds like what I imagine the guy from The Jesus Lizard sounding like - since I've never heard them. Think classic Chris Cornell if he was a mad scientist who loved Faith No More. Songs like Dull Fangs, Anarchists Just Wanna Have Fun, and Friends Don't Let Friends Win are hideous in the best way and challenge the listener to use a term that's been long demonized: Avant Garde. Though I'm an avid fan of classification, I couldn't come up with anything to call this record, other than heavy and brilliant. Buy it.

5. The Odd Couple by Gnarls Barkley - I've never been a fan of Danger Mouse's production whether it be with The Black Keys, The Rapture, or any of the other bands he's worked with. I also didn't like the first Gnarls Barkley release at all. It wasn't until I heard Going On on the radio that I took notice of The Odd Couple. I'm not saying it's a great record or that it's some kind of creative turning point, all I'm saying is that it has a few really impressive songs. Whatever and Charity Case are fun and catchy and Who's Gonna Save My Soul is oddly earnest. The best selection by far is She Knows, an awkwardly tropical dance track with a solid groove and a great vocal from Cee-Lo Green - who always sounds effortlessly good. Basically, this album made the list as little more than a reminder for anyone who wrote off Gnarls, or never cared much in the first place.


Top 10 LETDOWNS of 2010:

1. High Violet by The National - I'm sorry, but I just don't get this record. I spent much of the beginning of the year listening to Boxer on long, lonely car rides anticipating their next release, only to be baffled by this truly dull album. I love Lemonworld, I like Bloodbuzz Ohio, and everything else blends together. This time around the somber vocal style and spacious production just sounded tired. Maybe I expected too much, but they didn't even meet me halfway.

2. Volume Two by She & Him - Is it so wrong to WANT to love everything Zooey Deschanel does? She's beautiful, seemingly sweet, a fantastic singer, and she married a less-than hunky indie rock dude. Aside from that, the first She & Him record was really good. This one, on the other hand, feels rushed and a little too by-the-book. The final two tracks (Brand New Shoes and If You Can't Sleep) are decent and the NRBQ cover (Ridin' In My Car) is solid, but overall it's a pretty big disappointment.

3. Infinite Arms by Band of Horses - I may be alone in feeling this way, but this is one of the most boring records I've ever heard. I remember liking one of the twelve tracks quite a bit, but the record is so muddled who knows which one it was. I think this was supposed to be their breakout album, and for all I know it was, maybe everyone else loved it, I certainly know a few people who did. For me though, it was just static. I go to Band of Horses for harmonious lovelorn ballads, since they've done that so well in the past. I mean, Laredo? C'mon.

4. Dear God, I Hate Myself by Xiu Xiu - This one was a real surprise. 2008's Women As Lovers was a really accomplished and beautiful record. It had a cover version of Under Pressure with Michael Gira from Swans, uninhibitedly poetic songs like F.T.W. and No Friend Oh!, and one of my favorite songs of the last few years, I Do What I Want, When I Want. Dear God... is a really strange release, even for Xiu Xiu, who confidently operate outside the parameters of pop. The thing about it that makes it strange, to me at least, is that it's not at all memorable, which is the exact opposite of all their other releases, most of which I own and enjoy. I vaguely recall Gray Death and Secret Motel, but otherwise the record seems to have no lasting effect, not exactly what I want or expect from Xiu Xiu. What I've found they do best is a kind of haunting, darkly personal chamber pop (other reviewers tend to throw the word "goth" in there, but I think you need a little more than occasional shrieking organs to get the goth tag). Though the tracks here may contain some of the elements Xiu Xiu is known for, this record doesn't hook the listener in the same way that previous releases The Air Force (2006) and Fabulous Muscles (2004) had. Obviously, bands evolve and songwriting follows suit, there were also line-up changes for this release, but as it is Dear God... remains a bit of a bland mystery.

5. Crystal Castles by Crystal Castles - This is a woefully boring record that completely failed to build on the immediacy and apocalyptic fun of their debut. However, I'm not writing them off yet, I'll chalk this one up to the "sophomore slump".

6. Halcyon Digest by Deerhunter - It was like Christmas morning the day I bought Halcyon Digest. I actually called a record store to be sure of which day they would have it on the shelves. I couldn't accurately express how much I loved 2008's Microcastle/Weird Era Con't when I first heard it early last year, and I still can't, all I really know is that it's one of my all time favorite albums. Hence the reason I was so excited for Halcyon. However, as it is with most things people get over-excited about, Christmas morning for instance, it was apparent that we could file Halcyon Digest under "Disappointment". I PROMISE you, no one wanted this to be the album of the year more than I did, I had the spot tucked away months before it came out. The reality of this record is that it's flat and never gains any real momentum. Helicopter, as stated earlier, is a standout, but the rest of the album just kind of wanders. Apparently Desire Lines is a favorite among listeners, but I never got it. A little too straightforward, a little too vanilla, a little too obvious. It sounds like a run-of-the-mill Strokes track from their last record. Coronado is the only other song I really like, the addition of a saxophone helps lift it from the mediocrity. Songs like Don't Cry, Basement Scene, and Fountain Stairs feel like they could be great Deerhunter songs, but they're just not given either enough attention or care or something. I still love Deerhunter, a lot, but odds are that this record will be filed away and forgotten under piles of other sub-par releases.

7. Sleep Forever by Crocodiles - See Crystal Castles.

8. One Life Stand by Hot Chip - What happened Hot Chip?? Seriously?? Made In the Dark was SO GOOD! Every band has peaks and valleys, but this record was one notch above unlistenable. I Feel Better was pretty good as was Take It In, but I don't even count that song becuase it already appeared on the Bugged Out Mix from last year. Step In The Wrong Direction Of The Year.

9. Treats by Sleigh Bells - Yikes. I've made no secret of the fact that I love hype. I am frequently and wholeheartedly taken in by it many, many times a year. Once I get my hands on the hypee, however, I try my best to look at them objectively. This record is discordant to a fault, it's impossible to listen to (and that means A LOT coming from someone who owns and enjoys some of the records that I do). I'll give Sleigh Bells the following: Alexis Krauss is gorgeous (and would appear to have a good voice, but who can tell?), they have a teriffic name, and Rill Rill is a great song - but, it's the only song on the record that sounds like that. Everything else is just too distorted, too riff driven, and too monotonous. The silver lining is, of course, that it's a debut and with a little more focus and a little less kitchen sink they could make a much better noise.

10. When I Grow Up I Wanna F*** Like A Girl by All Leather - I don't wanna dislike this record for a few reasons: 1. I've been pro-Justin Pearson (the man and the bands) since high school because they're always tight and innovative. The Locust, Some Girls, Holy Molar, Head Wound City...it's all good stuff. 2. I wrote him a letter about eleven years ago (because that's how punks corresponded back then) and he wrote me back and sent me a ton of merch and I talked to him at a show about a year later and he was super nice. 3. It has a cover of Well-Fed Fuck by Born Against, one of my all time favorite bands. All that being said, this is the first Justin Pearson project that seems stale. It sounds like it should have come out five or six years ago, and even then it would have been less than intriguing. There's too much reliance on a throbbing drum machine and fails to really progress at all. Although his voice still sounds great, you can skip this one, go buy the Ground Unicorn Horn 45 instead.


Top Three Mixtape Names of 2010:

1. The Square Root of Eternity

2. Science is My Lady

3. Real Whitewater Rapids in Midnight

Top Five Records I Didn't Hear, But Were Probably Pretty Good, of 2010:

1. Rohnert Park by Ceremony

2. Gemini by Wild Nothing

3. Public Strain by Women (Easily the best cover art of the year)

4. Songs For Singles by Torche (I bought this on Dec. 31st, and it's very good, but a little short for an LP)

5. Warm Slime by Thee Oh Sees