Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Easy to Love

My friends Dan and Sky danced to this at their wedding. Aka The Most Amazingly Beautiful There Are Not Enough Adjectives for How Lovely it Was Wedding Ever. The album version is a little more upbeat. A stunning bride in cowboy boots and a short petticoated dress and the groom with exactly the look you hope to see on the face of a friend at his wedding ... I ruined my mascara.

Ivan and Alyosha - Easy to Love

I never see shows listed for anywhere other than Seattle. Boys - it's only a short (and scenic - I once saw a submarine. True story.) boat ride to Victoria. Dooooo it. We have numerous and fantastic breweries. I'm buying.

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

O My Heart

Oy vey, another music post. Bear with me, I will actually write something again .... some day ....

Anywhoo .... Mother Mother. One day no one knew who they were, and the next they were adding dates to sold out shows. Well, it probably didn't seem like that to them, what with the toil of forming a band, writing (fricking fantastic) songs, building a following and so on. But from the outside, there was definitely a 'holy shit, where did these guys come from?' moment.
I saw Ryan Guldemond play solo a few months ago, sandwhiched between Vince Vaccaro (a pleasant yawn) and Jon and Roy (here's a bat, bludgeon me around the ears). Honestly, Jon and Roy ... at one point my friend Wendy turned to me and said 'duder, they've played the same song 21 times!'. Agony. Starbucks Pick of the Week, beach ditty flavoured agony. But Ryan Guldemond, oh my god. Without the flanking of the pretty girls and rest of band, all his Gumby strangeness was so magnificently magnified. Wendy was all 'is this dude even serious!?'. And I was all 'oh my god, I want to spoon feed him soup and watch him while he sleeps!'. He has such amazing stage presence, does things to his guitar that makes me want to have intimate encounters with his fingers, and dear god, are his vocals amazeballs. There were moments where, I swear, there was a whiff of Wayne Newton. But mostly he doesn't sound like anyone else.

Brief aside. When I was a kid I couldn't understand why Ferris Bueller was lipsyncing to a woman. Totally didn't get that Danke Schoen was sung by Wayne Newton, and that he was a dude, until probably the 12th viewing.

But Ryan Guldemond ... I can totally get down with a man that writes about not eating for days before a date so he'll look extra skinny. And, he was totally gracious when some puka shell wearing frat boy told him he was the bombdiggity. I couldn’t even keep a straight face.

Fast forward a few months, and Wend and I go to see Mother Mother. A second show that was added as the first was about to sell out. We made the call to see the club show instead of the sit down show as they're pretty frigging fun live, and not so much sitty downy. Unfortunately the show coincided with the influx of approximately 6,000 international navel personnel (the streets were running with seamen!), so the crowd was taller, drunker, sluttier and louder than usual. And that’s saying something, as Victoria has some seriously asshat chatty crowds. Oh god, and smellier! We were sucked into a whirling vortex of stale pit and old underwear for several songs. But, despite all that, it was a fantastic show. Though sort genre bending and hard to define, I’ll go out on a limb and say that Mother Mother is pop at it it’s best. Smart, distinctive, fun, catchy music that isn’t comfortably packaged to pander to the widest possible audience. Though that certainly hasn’t held back their ability to build a fan base. Not at all bad for a kid from an Island most Canadians couldn’t find on a map.

My little intro to this video turned into a bit of a ramble. I was just going to post this, and a wee note, but again, sucked into the power of Mother Mother.

This video turns the band into paper dolls and features a kid that looks like a gender confused Wednesday Adams channeling Robert Smith before he got all chubby and awkward, so I’m pretty much totally down with it.

Mother Mother - O My Heart

Monday, September 06, 2010

All Your Friends Seem Like Enemies When You're Broken Down and Empty

Last long weekend of the summer and it's raining balls. Seriously starting to feel like fall. I've only ventured out to take out the trash, spent most of the day doing the domestic putter, wrapped in the vestiges of yesterday's dourness. Trying to cobble together a mix for birthday invites, but I keep getting sucked in to City and Colour. I really resisted City and Colour because, honestly, Alexisonfire ... always thought they were sort of douchy. And made me want to buy stock in throat lozenges. I have to give Dallas Green credit though. He's won this girl over.

This song is perfect today.

City and Colour - Waiting

* Are those rapist glasses?

Sunday, September 05, 2010

While You Were Sleeping

Urgh. Had the sort of hungover day that involves fantasies of ritual disembowelment, disturbingly adolescent melancholic self-loathing, and a driving desire to consume nothing but ginger ale. I don’t sleep well after a drink-heavy night out, so I was out of bed at 8:30, after fours hours of sleep. Only four hours because, after stumbling in famished and managing to whip up french toast I decided it was a darn tootin’ good idea to finally go on that neighbourhood-in-the-dark photo wander I’ve been meaning to do.

It was not a good idea.

For several reason. Not the least of which is that apparently the only other people awake in my neighbourhood at four am are a couple of skeezy dudes down the street. They very kindly offered ‘come on in the house, we’ll give you something to photograph’. Something about it gave me the nos though (go figure).

The photos didn’t turn out too smashingly. Shock. These were semi-salvageable. I do love dark empty streets.

I managed a semi-productive day of tattoo shop visit (oh god, tattoo noise + hangover headache = bad case of the unhappys), Scott Pilgrim, grocery shopping and pad thai cooking. All of which was soundtracked by White Stripes, Kevin Drew, Broken Social Scene and LDC Soundsystem. A concerted effort to not indulge the hangover weepies with  the usual folky heartbreak fodder. It pretty much worked, except now I’m rocking a serious case of the envies for whoever Kevin Drew wrote this song for. Lucky bitch. Sadly, this is about the best video of it I could find on the internets. Hopefully BSS will play it October 12th. That would be nice. Very nice.

xo  ~ m

Kevin Drew - TBTF

Thursday, August 26, 2010

I'll Always Have She Bop

My girl Otto and I finish an inordinate amount of conversations with 'Baby, I wish I had a penis! I love you!', because, you see, we are pretty much perfectly suited for each other in all arenas except one.

We are both, 100%, no doubt about it, committed fans of the disco stick.

Not that I haven't thought about it. Women are amazing. Beautiful. Lovely. Soft. Rarely hirsute. Don’t have awkward dangly bits. Well, except boobs. But boobs are nice! In theory the lady love is a grand plan, but when it comes right down to it, can I picture myself playing Tomb Raider? Nope. Definitely down with the dudes.

Cruel reality being that Victoria is a notoriously tough town for the single ladies. Well, those above university age at least. Once you hit the mid-to-late 20s most of the good guys have been annexed and it’s pretty much sit back and cross our fingers that some of them will become part of the 50% that end up cursing their ex’s name while rubbing self tanner in the pale flesh band where the ring once sat.

Not really ... but sort of.

All this to say that, for some inexplicable reason, I came across that ol’ time killer The Love Calculator today. Well, not so inexplicable. I Googled love to see what the number one hit was (Wikipedia, natch) and The Love Calculator was number two. Glad that the rest of the internet is stewing in their desperation juices too. Anywhoo ... It’s always worth a hope-destroying giggle, so I started calculating. Crushes. Former crushes. Dudes I thought that, with a few drinks in me, I might be able to conjure a crush on. Dude friends that I’d always thought, to quote a friend, must propagate by budding. You know, the ones you imagine as lump free as a Ken doll.

And I got bupkis.

Low end of the range 7%. High end 38%. Median in the range of 14%. Yeah, screw you too, Love Calculator.

So I threw in a couple of my best girls, just out of curiosity. And wouldn’t you know it, 72% and 79%.

I’m seriously thinking it might be time to re-watch Kissing Jessica Stein and High Art and reconsider matters.

Or maybe I shouldn’t put too much stock in an online love predictor. After all, it only gave me a 51% chance of loving myself. In fact, it says “....has a reasonable chance of working out, but on the other hand, it might not.” So as long as I don't try to work out any ambidextrous ambitions I should be just fine.

xo ~ m

ps - now that I've probably horrified my one dedicated reader (72%!) by implying masturbation, I'll easy the agony by leaving you with the 80s' and 90s' greatest odes to self lady love.

Cyndi Lauper - She Bop

The Divinyls - I Touch Myself

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

She's Got Superhuman Lips for Supersuction

She's got superpower hips for super reproduction.

Sufjan Stevens is so reliably earnest and heartfelt that when he busts out the irreverent it pretty much kills me.

Nothing to see here, but you get my drift, yeah?

Sufjan ... October 28th at The Commodore in Vancouver ... yes? Please? And also John Wayne Gacey Jr? Thanks, you're a peach.

Anywhoo ...

I didn't really sit down to write about Sufjan Stevens. I sat down to write about sexy. Which, yes, Sufjan absolutely is. Distractingly so at times.

But not the point.

My girl Otto and I have had many pj and coffee discussion about this over the past few weeks.  About, you know, what does it for us. It's ok, Mom, you can stop squirming. This isn't about sculpted abs and treasure trails. Not my steeze. I'll leave that to the girls on Bachelor Pad who, inexplicably, don't go into vajayjay lockdown at the sight of dudes with picklebutt walks in with embellished pocket jean.


So internets, I present to you ...

A Non-exhaustive List of Things That Make My Knees Go Squidgy
(in no particular order)

  • Passion - and no, I don't mean in-the-pants variety. Having something that you're super juiced on, that makes you lean in and talk too fast, or just a fantastically apparent sense of joi de vivre. 
  • Thoughtfulness - honestly, it really is the small stuff. Birthday flowers never mean as much as 'Hey, I know you're boss is being a douchbag this week, and I thought you could use something pretty' flowers. Tulips trump roses every time. Knowing this, and how I take my coffee ... oh la.
  • Kissing - this might be a gimme, but, back me up here, not all kissing is sexy. Sometimes it's awkward/sloppy/violating/please make it stop. A good kiss though ... and more specifically, the moment before the kiss. Take a moment before landing that bad boy. Whoooo, daddy.
  • Restraint - see above (also, restraints). 
  • Toques - this might be a Canadian thing, but toques do to me what male proximity to puppies / children does to breeder type girls. Elevates the ordinary to extraordinary. Especially if paired with ...
  • Scruffy weekend facial hair- c'mon. I realize this is veering into LL Bean porn, but I'm from a damp coastal climate and therefor conditioned to appreciate men in their outdoorsy hotness. Probably explains why I was so obsessed with Relic on The Beachcombers.
  • Mornings - ok, so take that scruffy Sunday face, add boyishly rumpled hair, drawstring pj bottoms, and delivering me coffee in bed, and I'm calling in fake sick to work for the next week.
  • Good phone voice - well, good voice generally. A manly voice. Don Draper voice. I have one friend who has such an off-the-charts sexy voice that I tend to lose the line on what he's saying, I get so lost in it. Man voice. Yep.
  • Cooking - I've always maintained that cooking is like fucking (sorry Mom). Done well it's totally instinctive. Books are great for ideas, but you need to have a sense of adventure. Men who are confident and at ease in the kitchen - and turn out an excellent meal - rare, but so, so tasty.
  • Wine / whiskey - Yes, beer is great, but for long, winding conversations, evenings on the beach/roof/in the park I have to go wine or whiskey. A slightly heady drunk, a mildly smokey kiss. Beer just doesn't cut it.
  • Humor - essential. And I don't mean big funny. I mean witty. Quick. Smart funny. Bring. It.
  • Forearms - there is a reason my imaginary boyfriend Hank is a fine furniture maker. Hand tools = beautiful forearms > bumpy abs. Any day.
  • Scars - love them. They're a map of personal history, charting out events, accidents, adventures. Best discovered under the covers. 
  • Blanket forts - really it's about a sense of playfulness, but I always think of blanket forts. If we're going to burn out and rent a movie, why not build a private fortress in the living room to watch it from?
  • Smelling good - and subtle. The best is when you only catch it when you're just getting into the hug. Oh man. I love something a little spicy, like Jo Malone Nutmeg and Ginger, but not going to lie, fresh laundry smell is pretty damn good too. It makes me want to hug you forever. 
  • A fantastic walk - A bad walk can kill the quiver. And a great walk can deliver. Colin Firth once walked (no, he strode) past me, and oh my god, I don't think it's topable. I get it, Bridget Jones. I get it. Man stride. Throw on an overcoat and I'll need a moment alone.
  • A sense of style - There are maybe three really well dressed men in Victoria. Not a sartorial town. And I don't mean in a $$ way. Men that know how to put it together. Yes please.
  • A tinge of ginge - I'm not talking full out Carrot Top here. But there's a reason Hank (the aformentioned imaginary boyfriend) is a cross between Josh Homme and Britt Daniel (with a dash of Matthew Fox, just for flava).
  • Articualteness - Boys, use your words. And punctuation. And please, please, work on the penmanship. It really sucks having to ask for an interpreter for cards and notes. 
  • Confidence - I could take my own advice here. It's true though. Confidence is hot. Not cocky though. A subtle confidence. 
  • Great taste in music/movies/art/literature - Obviously this is subjective, but I'm talking someone who isn't rocking the Top 40s on the way to Avatar. Throw down some Beach House and a few Oscar Wilde quotes. Please.
  • Not taking yourself too seriously -  I had this boyfriend who was super serious about being respected (not always all that reciprocated, though) and he had this whole theory about banishing people that he felt didn't deliver beyond the metaphoric moat, and they'd have to swim with the crocs to get back to the castle. My sisters and I call him Castle Asshole. Being able to chill out is important. 
Oh gosh, this non-exhaustive list is getting exhausting. It's by no means a checklist (though it would be nice if it could be). There are just so many little things that make a man (or woman, for that matter) sexy, beyond the physically obvious.

What about you? What makes your knees weak and composure crumble?

Monday, August 23, 2010

Hey Little Girl is Your Daddy Home?

I've had The Boss in my head all day. I'm on Fire specifically. Of course being the dirty little closeted hipster that I am my Bruce is only on vinyl. I wish I had a alphabetization fairy to sort my vinyl, because Born in the USA shouldn't take so damned long to find. My iPod has only (albeit fantastic)covers by Electrelane and Justin Veron - aka Bon Iver.

Tried to purge it with repeated listenings. No dice.

Quick aside - the Electrelane reference was about the only thing I really enjoyed about I Am Love. So wanted to love that movie.

Anywhooo ... Forced to resort to watching the stupendously cheesy original video. Several times.

There's a 'can get under my hood' joke in there somewhere. Ahhhh ... the working class 80's hotness of Springsteen.

Sweet plaid flannel dreams.

xo ~ m

* Sadly the webernigs was not forthcoming with Scruffy McBearderson's Drinking this Rain / I'm on Fire. Pretty danmed lovely though. Trust.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Studio M

Productive weekend. The craft room (hereafter refered to as the studio, in effort to convince myself there is an artist lurking round these parts) is slowly coming together. The closet shelving is installed, wall shelves stained and installed, bulletin board - despite several setbacks - Gigyvered together. Boxes are finally being upacked and contents finding homes. I still really want to make it a /darkroom, but it's a little overwhelming of a prospect, so for now it's all about arts and crafts. Pictures, and hopefully a few project how-to's, coming soon.

~ m

Friday, July 30, 2010

Worth the Wait

I've been unbloggy. Many things I'd love to share. Little motivation to do it. I'm working on it.

I came across this video today. It's so lovely. I think maybe I'm still have residual love-dust on me from the amazing wedding I went to last month. Because, being the terminally single early 30's specimen that I am, I'm not generally all gaga about lovey-doveyness. Not that I'm anti-love, not in the least. I just don't see partnership as a goal, as something that people should be auditioned for. As something that, if it's not present, means that my life is somehow lacking. It's not a void that needs to be filled, but is something that, when it happens, compliments the amazing amazingness of the people I already hold near and dear, not something that supersedes them.

I am a sucker for aesthetics. Admittedly, I wish my whole life looked like an Angus and Julia Stone video. I know most people are more Lohan than Longoria in the morning, that all couples eventually smell each others farts and not all moments together have artful lense flares, split screens and the nostalgic shudder of 8mm film. But if I could engineer it, this is what love would look like.

Max, Margaux, & The Marvelows from Shark Pig on Vimeo.

xo ~ m

PS - it's probably polite to mention that this is the wedding of Max Wanger, who's photos I have been swooning over for the past year or so. His website is in my links. This is his blog. 

Friday, March 05, 2010

For a Girl Like Me, This Qualifies as Porn

There's tired, and then there's tired.

I am the sort of tired that, upon venturing out of the office for a coffee this afternoon, my lovely friend behind the counter said 'oh, are you ok?' the minute I walked in. Grumpy, verge of teary, crumbling facade tired.

What can I say ... I feel pretty constantly driven to use my non-day job hours getting all the crafty awesomeness, not to mention social awesomeness, out of my system. Clearly I need to find a way to make that shit profitable, so I can skip the office job and make my monies doing all the fun stuff that, right now, cuts into my beauty sleep. Seriously, I remember going to bed really early, and actually waking up feeling sort of refreshed. It was great. It was also between Christmas and New Year's.

My plans tonight were kiboshed by a band cancellation. As much as I was looking forward to a little Team Kiwi time, I'm also sort of relieved to not have to plaster on the undereye concealer and make it a go. So here it is, 9pm, and I've already spent several hours spooning with my fat ginger bastard, rocking my unsexiest Old Navy flannel jammies, and I'm fully ready to go make sweet, sweet sleepy love to my bed.

I've been lulled into a sort of pre-coma by Jim James (technically Yim Yames, since it was the Tribute album), and thought that, since I'm such a nice girl, I'd share. Seriously, this man is my Morgan Freeman. So g'head. Have a listen.


And also, because I love Jim extra special lots for being able to rock a cape like it's nobody's business, here's My Morning Jacket doing the Black Cab Session. Clearly he didn't get the memo that I'd requested The Bear, but whatever, I still love my boo.

How sick would it be if Monsters of Folk did a Black Cab Session? Hello, seat liner. 

If you don't know the Black Cab Sessions I highly recommend checking them out here. Final Fantasy, Woodpigeon, Doves, Calexico, Bon Iver, Grizzly Bear, Beach House, Death Cab (am I an asshole for thinking it would have been sort of ironically, in the Alanis sense, awesome if they'd been in an accident?), The National, Cave Singers, Sunset Rubdown, Daniel Johnston .... pretty much an inventory of my favorite bands, just killing it in the back of a taxi.

Sort of like Taxi Cab Confessions, but for music nerds.

Have a good sleep, internets.

xo ~ m

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

Gone, Baby, Gone

One of my dearest friends is leaving tomorrow for a multi-month jaunt through South America. I am going to miss her something fierce.

What was supposed to be an after work drink at our local pub with a few friends turned into eight of us battling the hockey crowd for enough air to maintain a conversation, so, ever practical me suggested taking it the 20 paces down the street to my apartment. A sushi and liquor run later we had a nice little sit-in going in my living room. Double nice as my days here are numbered, and there won't be many more of these impromptu shindigs here.

And, might I say, there was a general air of bemusement when I walked in and hit play on the Pink Floyd and, mothero'god, a turntable started moving! Kids these days ... records are such a novelty.

Once again when everyone left I found myself staring down an unruly and eclectic pile of records. Some of them were still out from my frantic Cinderella frenzy last night trying to clean up for the viewings, but there was defs some overlap. As ever, what other people pull out to play charms and amuses me.

Aretha Franklin - Aretha's Greatest Hits
Japandroids - Post Nothing
Rolling Stones - Goats Head Soup
Otis Redding / Jimi Hendrix Experience - Monterey International Pop Festival
Lou Reed - City Lights

Pink FLoyd - Wish You Were Here
Elvis Costello - Armed Forces
Van Morrison - Moondance
Peter Gabriel - So
Michael Jackson - Thriller
Crowded House - Crowded House
Sunset Rubdown -Introducing Moonface
Beach House - Teen Dream
The Cure - The Head on the Door

Finally, Moondance gets some respect.

And I should probably include The Best of the Doors, which is dusting up the needle as I type this. Oh, Jim Morrison, Love Me Two Times, indeed. And can I get a yes please

So, not much to say, just sort of an addendum to the podcast post. Please come over and mess around with my music. And tell your friends to rent this damned apartment, so I can stop being so anal about tidying up.

Oh, and also, Helen, keep safe. I love you and I'll miss you.

xo ~ m

Monday, March 01, 2010

Mixtape #8: The Soundtracks of Our Lives

I’ve picked up a new habit. Not up the up-the-nose variety, but rather the natural progression of my music/pop-culture geekatude. I’ve been making an effort, when with friends, to keep track of the music we listen to, the films, books and art that are discussed. It saves on the hey dude, was was that song by that guy that did that thing that we listened to last night texts. This is a habit I started a few years ago when I was spending a lot of time with a highly music nerdy couple. I was forever finding old receipts and crumpled napkins with vague wine stained notes about something I absolutely had to check out. 
The habit faded along with the friendship, and I’ve just recently picked it back up. I’m actually trying to keep track in my day planner. Yes, I still use a plain ‘ol book-form day planner. How quaint. It’s a nice reminder of where I was, and with whom, and what we geeked about. Plus, ticket stubs and wine labels paste in tidily.

The nice thing about having these nights in your own home is that you don’t have to take notes. You just stumble to the living room, check the recently played track list and and sift through the mountains of unsheathed records covering the floor.

Oh, quick aside. My aunt came up to my apartment the other day. The place was still a bit of a mess from the night before, so I pre-apologized and muttered something about vinyl littering the living room. She looked a little surprised and then gave me the  ‘ol “TMI!”. It took a sec for it to click that she thought I meant vinyl fabric. Like some sort of gimp mask bondage fetish-wear or something. I should be so lucky. I think she was pretty relieved to see it was nothing more disturbing than Bob Dylan and Beach House.

Anyhow ... one of my favorite things is how someone else can sort of reintroduce you to your own collection. Seeing what people pull out, the songs they favour that aren’t  necessarily where you tend to drop the needle. The ones you have the little ‘sigh, me too’ moments about. Oh, geekheart.

I was told (again) yesterday that I tend to listen to a lot of Old Sad Bastard music. I acknowledge and accept this. Dammit, I like an anthemic heart-heavy shoegaze as much as the next former SSRI fangirl. So there’s a bit of that going on here (possibly even a repeat or two), but it’s not all on me. This bad-boy is a collaboration strung together from the next-morning iPod list and vinyl pile that was largely established by my guest, who was also so kind as to come armed not just with wine, but with enough new music to keep me engaged in discovery for a good while. I might just have met my music geek equal. My geequal, if you will.

So, here’s Mixtape #8. The soundtrack to the best night I’ve had in a long time. Songs that were played, and ones that I have a hazy, wine fogged memory of discussing. And a few others, just because they seemed to fit. I hope you enjoy it. As ever, where possible band names link to their website/MySpace. Notes on the individual tracks follow.

To add to podcasts: if you are already subscribed hit refresh. If not, in iTunes go to Advanced, Subscribe to Podcast, and paste in this: http://shes-so-melicious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default. You can also click on the post title to link to a downloadable file.

Mixtape #8 - The Soundtracks of Our Lives

1) In the Summertime - The Rural Alberta Advantage
2) Going To Acapulco - Jim James & Calexico   
3) If I Go, I'm Goin -  Gregory Alan Isakov   
4) Girl from the North Country - Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash       
5) My Old Ghosts - The Wooden Sky
6) Coconut - Fever Ray   
7) Falling  - Julee Cruise   
8) You Came to Me - Beach House   
9) Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings - Sunset Rubdown   
10) Sweet Thing  - Van Morrison   
11) Let's Get It On - Marvin Gaye   
12) Colorado Girl  - Townes Van Zandt    
13) To Ohio (Reprise) - The Low Anthem
14) After the Gold Rush (Neil Young Cover) - Thom Yorke
15) Long Time Running - Tragically Hip   
16) Oh! Sweet Nuthin' -  The Velvet Underground   
* bonus track - It's a Surprise!

1) In the Summertime - I saw Rural Alberta Advantage with another relatively new friend a few weeks ago. We went after the opening of Big Tiny Smalls’ Nude Dudes exhibit at Dale’s Gallery, which you should check out if you are in the Victoria area. Yes, there is penis. They are, after all, nude dudes.

2) Going To Acapulco - Still my favorite scene in I’m Not There, despite the Richard Gereness.  Jim James’ voice is my aural happy place, and it’s been well established that I like a good horn section. Counting down to My Morning Jacket at Sasquatch, for sure. And check out his solo work (as Yim Yames) I painfully want the limited edition George Harrison tribute vinyl. Hint hint, world. Who am I kidding, I'll be ordering that myself from the kind folks at Ditch.

3) If I Go, I'm Goin’ - One of my best new discoveries last year. And he’s a total peach - I faxed a note to a bar he was playing in San Francisco asking him to dedicate a song to some friends that were there, and he totally did. Big ups, Gregory. Big ups. 

4) Girl from the North Country - Can’t go wrong with Bob Dylan or Johnny Cash. Put them together, got nothing to complain about for three minutes and forty four seconds. If you disagree, I probably can’t be your friend.     

5) My Old Ghosts - We went to Wooden Sky after dinner. I wish I could say it was an amazing show, but I was (shudder, shame) a little to drunk/distracted to remember much about the specifics. They did sound good, and I had a fantastic time though, so still a total win. 

6) Coconut - This one might be a repeat from a mix last year. Whatev’s, I love this song. Sad Old Bastard be damned. And Karin Dreijer-Andersson could teach Lady Gaga a thing or two about true costume/media freakadonk.    

7) Falling - The Theme Song from Twin Peaks (with lyrics). Sort of an inside joke, but also actually a song a listen to a fair amount, and have since I was about thirteen. David Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti are pretty legendary pairing, and add Julee Cruise’s voice to the mix and you have me swooning in all my ninth grade glory. 

8) You Came to Me - I tend to cook to Billie Holiday, but I backed it up in the Bs a little. Semi-successful - dinner was a little on the overcooked side. Sigh. 

9) Shut Up I Am Dreaming of Places Where Lovers Have Wings - Technically it was Coming to At Dawn that played, but I only have a 7”, so I’m subbing this in to represent for Sunset Rubdown. Sort of long, but I sort of love it, so whatever. 

10) Sweet Thing - This was the second time that a record-mining guest has declared the superiority of Astral Weeks over Moondance. I have to agree. Mine is so old you can stick your arm through the sleeve, but it still plays like a hot damn. 

11) Let's Get It On - Could a song be more of a classic? Even if it always brings to mind Jack Black as Barry Jive and the Uptown Five at the end of High Fidelity. 

12) Colorado Girl - In the last few weeks I’ve watched both Heartworn Highways and Be There to Love Me, and find myself shamed at how many Townes Van Zandt songs I’m only familiar with as covers. I aim to rectify this post-haste. 

13) To Ohio (Reprise) - Another band I’m all gaaahahhhhh about seeing at Squantch. I like both versions of this song, but the Reprise is just so darn pretty. 

14) After the Gold Rush - I went to a Neil Young tribute a few weeks ago. Newfound respect for Elvis Costello. I say goddamn. Since it was all covers I’m representing Neil here with one of my favorite covers, from Thom Yorke’s near legendary Live at Bridge School recording. If you need to sub in a falsetto, could it get any better than Thom Yorke? Without castrating a choir boy, that is.

15) Long Time Running -  For no other reason than, despite being well out of my Tragically Hip phase, I still love this song. I want to dance with a whiskey-breathed stranger in a smokey, sawdust strewn roadhouse to this.

16) Oh! Sweet Nuthin' - Lou Reed also played the Neil Young tribute. Sort of a let down to be honest. He was the MOST geriatric. Like a hockey player without his stick, Old Lou looked as if he couldn’t stand independently without his guitar strapped on. Also, if anyone knows the whereabouts of my vinyl (Berlin live, I think), let a sister know. Or my black hi-tops for that matter. Shit is going missing around here.

* Bonus Track - because I had a flashback to how prevalent and pleasantly surprising bonus tracks were back when CDs were really taking off. And I burned out to the source of this a few days ago, and this song kills me. Kills me. So hard.

So there you have it. Mixtape #8. Signed. Sealed Delivered. I hope you enjoy. I’m going to spend a good hour in the shower trying to undo the shoulder knot this typing has caused. Such a martyr. I know. 

~ m

Every Feeling You Feel Is ...

This isn't the post I was planning to write. I've been downright negligent the past few months - partially due to a relentless shoulder issue that makes typing sort of agony, and partially due to a weighty case of the blogging blahs. Between the two blogs I have probably a dozen posts started, but haven't has the chutzpah to get 'em done. So I was actually planning to get back on the pony by riding a podcast through the gate, but my box.net account was being a little douche, so it's on the back burner for a bit. 

I took the new podcast for the old headphone test this morning. I just gave my notice at my apartment, and thought I should squeeze in a few more park / waterfront ambles while it still takes zero effort to get there. It was one of those almost garishly beautiful Victoria days that sort of makes me feel bad for 90% of the country and their stereotypically Canadian weather. And since 90% of the country was glued to their TVs watching Canada go for gold, I didn't have much company, which was quite nice. After thirtysomething years it still makes me smile to see peacocks in the park.  I didn't see 'Ol Whitey, the albino peacock, which actually concerned me a little. Small aside - I saw the most amazing albino Asian man in Chinatown yesterday. I mean really. How often do you see that? I was like walking into the Benetton ad I covered my Grade 9 science book with. 

But I digress. 

Most of the benches along the waterfront were occupied by elderly couples soaking up the sun like contented old grey-muzzled dogs. Sorta cute. There's a bench on Dallas Road that's sort of special to my Mom and sisters. It's where we scattered my stepdad's ashes a few months ago. I haven't been up that way since, so I thought I'd take five and spend a little time with him, as it wasn't currently occupied by a grey-hair. As I approached it I realized it was covered with graffiti. Mailing labels. I think Avery 5160 (that's the admin nerd in me talking). Some messily coloured blue, most semi peeled off. My first reaction was 'oh, nice, of all the benches to fuck with ...'. And then I started reading them. And I know it was probably just some bored kids feeling sort of Post Secret, but, honestly, it sort of took the wind out of me. 

Here's the thing. Though I'd known my stepdad since probably my early teens he didn't come into my life in a permanent way until I was semi-adult, away at university, actually. And it was a little rocky at the start, and such things tend to be. He was a pretty lovely man, and loved my mom, so of course things sorted themselves out, but I lived in Vancouver for years, and even when I moved back to Victoria I wasn't around much, and didn't really realize how much I'd missed in not having a closer relationship with him until he was gone. I knew it as he was dying, and I was blistered by it a year later when we scattered the ashes. My Mom, stepsister and two sisters all had such personal words to say, and all I really had was 'I loved him, I know he loved me, but I didn't really know him. And that makes me so incredibly sad'.

I mean, how do you apologize to someone who's dead for not taking the time to know them better in life?

The only thing I can think is you do it by not making that mistake again. By nutting up and taking chances. By not holding people at arms length and counting on having the time to pull them closer. By not hardening yourself to all the awkward, inconvenient, maybe embarrassing thoughts and feelings that make us so achingly human. By using your voice to remind people of these things.

Mike, I hear you, loud and clear.

I am still finding my voice, but I promise you, it will be strong.

xo ~ m

Monday, January 04, 2010

Rice Boy Cooks

Oh. My. Foreign boy couple crush. Jonsi and Alex (Rice Boy Sleeps and Sigur Ros) are pretty much the most adorable, creative, I-wanna-be-their-best-friend couple ever. They make my favorite music, and the loveliest art, and now offer up nutritious deliciousness. I like to think they're looking out for me, body and soul. And now having perused their free downloadable Good Heart Recipe Book I want to have them over visit them in Iceland and make diner and drink wine and listen to Jonsi's beautiful accent.

I'm not generally a huge fan of the vegan / raw thing (especially vegan things disguised as non-vegan things. Why call a nut mash vegan cream cheese? Why can't it just be mashed nuts?), but these recipes are very in line with how I cook, and the presentation is some homespun and adorable. Plus, they have a recipe called Macadamia Monster Mash, so points for calling it like it is.

You can download the recipe book here, as well as watch pretty darn tootin' cute videos such as this one.

Jónsi & Alex Recipe Show - Raw Strawberry Pie from Jónsi & Alex on Vimeo.

And if you're all 'Sigur Ros, of course, but the heck is Rice Boy Sleeps?' you can check them out here, and read my words of adoration here. I think I'm going to put them on now and let them lull me to sleep.
Related Posts with Thumbnails