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.

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

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?

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.

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

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

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.

All they Wanted Was a Dance, You Gave Your Peace of Mind Instead

I've been absent again. It's been a busy few weeks. I have another podcast ripened and ready to post, I just haven't had the steam to do the written. So, in the meantime, a word about a little gem that would be on the mix if I could have bought the damn track digitally.

A few months back Sunset Rubdown played in Victoria. Now, I love me some Sunset Rubdown, but I recognize that Spencer Krug's voice is sort of divisive. People tend to either love or just totally can't stand it. I fall squarely on the love side. I also sort of crush on him as a lyricist. I hadn't heard much of Dragonslayer before the show, but the new songs I heard did it for me, and I took it home eager to dig in and give it a proper solo listen. In particularly a song that had sort of grabbed me in an I've never heard it before, how is it so familiar?? sort of way. Crushing disappointment upon discovering that the song I had briefly bonded with was not on the album.

I Googled the one little lyric snippet I'd retained:

obliterate your speech so you cannot ask forgiveness

for hanging with the vampires when there was no one to witness

the submission of the skin upon your neck

and found that the song, Coming to At Dawn, was only available on a picture-disk, which I'm pretty sure I'd seen for sale at the show.

Balls.

I hemmed and hawed about ordering it from Agoo Records ... $10 is low beans, but with shipping and whatnot ... anywhoo, I finally, now months later, checked in with the good folks at Ditch Records and sure enough, they had it in stock, cheaper than what I would have spent to order it with shipping and Yankee dollar conversion.

As a quick aside, I'm a huge proponent of support local independent retailers, records stores in particular, and with A&B gone I'm spending more time and dollars at Ditch, which I should have been doing all the time, because the staff is amazing and helpful and generally float my boat. Shop local. Shop Ditch!

Right. So. It's a lot simpler and more piano-y than it was live, which I'm actually partial to as it serves the lyrics well. I love the image and feeling that this little bit conjures up.

obliterate the memory of coming to at dawn

knowing only that the night has gone

obliterate the grass stains from the cloth

you were only in the grassy fields to pick a hollyhock

you want to stick it to the stem again

by fusing up the atoms and then believe that it will live again

just from the power of your refusing to believe it cannot happen

We've all had that night right? Sort of drunk and brokenly determined your want alone can will something into being? Hell, I had a bit of that on Saturday night. Unfortunately, people are even harder to rebuild than flora. But I digress.

So, I'm embedding a video that's basically just the record playing, but hey, it's a picture disk, so at least there's something to look at!

I'm also popping in a video of the song performed live, because it is so different. I still dig it, I just diggity dig the album version better. You know, for angsty solo listening.

Crap. That's actually a different live version than the one I was intending to post, and now it's a draw. I sorta love it too. May need a few more listens.

So that's the what for now. I have a sewing project to bang out tonight and am hitting Fruit Bats tomorrow at Lucky, so at this rate it might be the weekend before I get the podcast up.

~ m

Rice Boy Sleeps

If you have seen my cd wall you know I love Sigur Ros. If you know me, you know that when I love something (or, let's be honest, on occasion, someone) I can get a bit obsess-y. In the case of people it can get weird, and I try to not indulge it. In the case of music it means I can explore and be moved, and share that with other people, who hopefully also will be moved and share it forward.

There's been a note next to July 20th in my day planner (yes, I still use a book style planner. And a pen.) since February or March. It says, quite simply, Rice Boy Sleeps. To someone not sort of obsessed with all the musical magic coming out of Iceland that might sound like crazy talk, or spy code. It is neither. It is the release date of the an album by Jón Þór Birgisson and Alex Somers - aka Jonsi from Sigur Ros and his partner Alex.

To me that little entry means that an album drops that I am absolutely certain I will love.

And I am right.

I love it.

I love the the lushness of it. I love that it is so full and warm and sweeping and yet feels somehow quiet.

I love that, though I am just giving it it's first listen, it feels familiar, though not because it sounds like Sigur Ros. Because it is different. More intimate somehow. Like sharing someone's daydream.

I love that it sounds the way their art looks - which by the way I adore, and which makes me ache to be able to express myself with ink and paper.

I love that they've allowed an embed option for the music player, so I can share it with you here. Though, of course, I encourage you to visit the website and look at what they have to offer (including a little surprise for all you odd little raw foodists out there!), and of course to buy the album. It is available on Amazon, though I'll be chatting up the boys at Ditch, and hope you'll take your Benjamin's to you local record shop too.

The videos for All the Big Trees and Daniell in the Sea have been out for some time, so I've heard a few of the tracks before. They are so simple and lovely.

Jónsi & Alex - All the big trees from Jónsi & Alex on Vimeo.

Jónsi & Alex - Daníell in the sea from Jónsi & Alex on Vimeo.

It is way past the time that a more reasonable me would have packed it in and gone to bed, and I am still pretty exhausted from the excesses of sun and mountain air and, well, beer this past weekend. I am very much looking forward to crawling into my bed and letting Rice Boy Sleeps lull me into dreamy repose.

~ m

You Said You Only Wanted Friends For Long Enough to Get Rid of Them

You know how sometimes a song that's been on your playlist for ages can suddenly seem new? Like something in your life tweaks how you hear it and it suddenly seems fresh and relevant? I'm having that big time right now with one of my favorite songs by one of my absolute favorite songwriters.

Jason Molina and I go way back. Well, for me we do. For him .... most certainly not. But whatever. His lyrics are often little portals into relationship failings, wishes and regrets. They aren't flashy, but are brutally honest, and I think that's what makes them so relatable.

And holy mothergod, if he isn't just damned fantastic live. Which is why I have a Seattle weekend planned around his summer tour. But I digress.

Anywhoo, Dark Don’t Hide It from Magnolia Electric Co's. What Comes After the Blues is that song right now. I've been listening to it for years and that album is pretty big for me (it ushered in the sea change of a friendship and was bought at a show that was my first hangout ever with a guy I've been crushing on since ... and it came out in 2005). So, I've been listening to this song for years, but, despite frequent singalongs I don't think I've ever really heard the lyrics. And then this weekend, while lying in bed up on Cortes making a playlist for the bus ride home I caught this little gem ...

You said you only wanted friends

For long enough to get rid of them

You found the kind you knew would only kill you

So you surrounded yourself with them

... and it was like being punched in the gut with a truth bomb.

Now, don't be getting all concerned, it's not a chronic or all-friend encompassing thing (A-duh! I have the most amazing, beautiful, supportive friends!). It just sort of tidily summed up a a little looking to make some mistakes phase I'm going through. And, specifically, someone I've wasted a little too much time breaking that phase in with.

But whatever, this isn't really about me, that's not the point. The point is that the man drives it home. Every. Single. Time.

Need a little more?

Now the world was empty on the day when they made it

But heaven needed someplace to throw all the shit

Human hearts and pain should never be separate

They wouldn’t tear themselves apart both trying to fit

or

Now death is gonna hold us up in the mirror

And say we’re so much alike we must be brothers

See I had a job to do but people like you

Been doing it for me to one another

I mean, honestly. Hey mankind, you just got schooled by Death.

Chills.

Anywhoo, you can discover all the Molina you want at http://www.magnoliaelectricco.com (which covers Songs:Ohia, Magnolia Electric Co. and solo projects), and on myspace. Dark Don't Hide It is on there, though I also suggest you check out the following video for a beautifully spare solo version. The sound and video aren't synced, so I'd listen not look.

And keeping with the stripped down solo thing, this version of Just Be

Simple, pretty much my favorite Jason Molina song ever,gives me little

chill. Not as much of a chill as the album version but still, a chill.

With slice to the bone honesty like this ...

Eveything you ever hated me for .... honey there was so much more,

I just didn't get busted.

...how could it not?

x0 ~ m

Park That Car, Drop that Phone, Sleep on the Floor, Dream About Me

This song wasn't around yet when I was 17. I really, really wish it had been. Because me at 17 was a solid mix of the hope and hurt and wish and despair and dreaming that this song embodies, and I really could have used a song that summed up everything I didn't have one recognizable, assignable emotion for.

At 17 I was pretty sure there was some sort of solid line delineating the youth from the adults, and that, though I didn't know quite where it was, or when I'd find it, I'd know with certainty when I crossed it.

I'm 32, coming up on 33 really, and I have to say, most days I'm still not sure I'm there. Sure, I have a job, I pay rent, most of the time I remember to deal with bills and garbage and laundry. But I am still every bit as filled with wonder and want and ache for something more that I was almost half my life ago. And while sometimes I fear it an unsettling harbinger of failure at this being a grown up thing, or at fulfilling my potential, whatever that may mean or be, it also gives me a profound sense of peace and calm.

Because I don't ever want my heart to stop hunting.




Note: I'm not in love with the video, but all the live footage was crusty.

Mixtape #1 - Finally....The Days are Getting Longer

I've always been a lover of mix tapes. Back in the olden days (you, know, the 90s), before recordable CDs and, um, internet (well, there was The Internet, but it certainly wasn't the monster it is today) mix tapes - actual 90 minute tapes - were how we shared and learned about new music. They were the soundtracks of our road trips, friendships and breakups. There was an art to arranging songs in just the right order so nothing got cut off just before a side ran out. They were hard to find your favorite song on, especially if your friend's car stereo had that weird ass thing where there was no fast forward, so you had to flip the tape over, rewind, flip it back, check if you'd gone too far or not far enough, flip it back rewind some more ... lather, rinse repeat until you got as close as humanly possible to the beginning of Lost Together, or whatever song summed up your particular unrequited-love-teen-angst-bullshit-moping-situation at the moment. They were prone to snagging and coming unraveled and patience and a steady hand were paramount to their successful respooling. A Bic pen - the kind with the octagonal shaped shaft - helped too.

There are parts of my life that feel in a way defined by the mix tapes I associate with them. They are love letters, Dear John's and diary entries spoken in a stranger's words and set to music. They represent the people I've loved, the ones I didn't at the time realize loved me and the friends I've left behind, and often lost touch with, in my far too frequent moves. Smashing Pumpkins' 1979 will forever remind me of Justine, who I adored in high school, and who was adored by the boy I was crushing on. It was on the mix she gave me when I moved across the country for university, with a little hand drawn cover cartoon of me. I think with Queen's pompoms. Chelsea, one of the loveliest women I've ever had the privilege of befriending, and I spent bitch-ass cold mornings delivering the Golden Word (one of the campus papers) together. It was in the heyday of Spice Girls and boy bands and we'd hear the same dozen songs in the pre-dawn dark every week, giggling at the awfulness of them as we sang along in her little white car. I want to say it was a Supra, but I don't remember it as well as the music. I still have the tape she made me of that early morning soundtrack. Specifically though, Portishead's Only You will always be my Chelsea song. There was a party, there were excessive drunkeness and tears and Chelsea making it all ok, and Only You was playing. And it was on the tape. And I'd rather associate her with Beth Gibbons than any of the Spice varitals.

Ani DiFranco's Untouchable Face - and this is truly cringeworthy - was the last song on a tape I made to give a guy I luuuurved before he left Kingston for a summer trip to Europe. I brought it to his house, palms sweating, heart racing ... only to find out I'd missed him by about an hour. I left it with his roommate, and cried on the way home. A few weeks later, I was overcome with the paralyzing fear that that song ... it was just too obvious. I think I was aiming for 'I think I'm in love with you, but I want to put that across in a subtle way that you can discover for yourself if you're looking to read something into this track list' and 'fuck you and your untouchable face, and fuck you for existing in the first place. And who am I that I should be vying for your touch, and who am I, I bet you can't even tell me that much' seemed, in retrospect, a little heavy handed in the delivery of the message. I actually got his roommate to get the tape back for me so I could erase the song off of it, and remove it from the track list on the painstakingly collaged cover. He came back and we had one fantastic summer date that ended with ‘Melissa, I’m attracted to you but... I’m moving to Vancouver in six weeks, and I don’t think it would be a good idea to start anything.’ I’m pretty sure it was a gentle let down, but I was so stunned that the word attracted even came out of his mouth in reference to me that I didn’t test the theory by saying what I should have. Which, obviously, was ‘But think of the damage we could do to each other in six weeks.’ Le sigh....

Most of the mixes I’ve made and received post-university are on CD, which, being a geek for making covers, I love. More space to play with. One of the best covers (and mixes) I ever received was from Linnea. The last track on the CD is Death Cab for Cutie’s Transatlanticism, introducing my still-favorite song by a band that I love and at one point managed to barter my extra guest list for a sold-out Seattle show in trade for a bed at a sold out hostel. Lali Puna’s Faking the Books will always be Dave. Dave who is so beautiful and who I don’t think I’ll ever really know. But whose fantastic mix is always near the top of the pile. Michelle has introduced me to a disproportionate number of my highest ranked bands, and the two mixes she gave me for my ill-fated move to Montreal are still loved and still played, though it’s a trifecta of covers from the Chill Mix - Elbow’s cover of Massive Attack’s Teardrop, Johnette Napolitano & Danny Lohner’s cover of Coldplay’s The Scientist and The Postal Service’s cover of Phil Collins’ Against All Odds that I listened to obsessively while navigating my way through the Metro on my way to and from my short lived job.

I’ve been making mixes pretty obsessively the past year or so, and I’ve gone through a few 50-spindles burning them for people. They’ve been weekly soundtracks to art class assignments, party invites and, more recently, therapy at a time when I haven’t the heart or energy to do much more than try to shut the world out with headphones.

Part of the impetus for reviving this blog was having a forum to share the music I’m listening to. Writing this has made me realize I really should make a mix tape compilation of my most memorable mix tape moments. I'll put that on list. For this week though, a taste of what's been often played as of late.

The songs are a mix of new friends and old flames: a catchy reminder that all shitty situations come to an end if you can just get through them; a song that - played live - made me inexplicably randy; an acoustic cover of an old favorite; something new from last year's bearded hotness, a new girl crush .... and on it goes. It's not an attempt to be all edgy and 'ohhh...check out all the cool shit I listen to', far from it. Just what I've been listening to the past few weeks, as the cherry trees have begun to blossom and the sun has decided to stay out long and late enough for a first evening patio beer.

You can download the mix here, but I'd recommend adding it to your podcasts, just because I am so damn proud that I figured out how to make a podcast. Whoot .... girl got skills! It's super easy. In iTunes, click on Advanced. In the dropdown menu click Subscribe to Podcast. Enter this URL: http://shes-so-melicious.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default. Note: You may have to enter it without the http:// . Sometimes it ends up putting that in twice. iTunes will do its thing, and when there are new podcasts they will download into your podcast files. It'll take about 6 minutes, so keep your pants on. You can also click the refresh button to check if there is anything exciting and new. If anyone has trouble with this let me know and I'll do a screenshot tutorial.

These images link to cover downloads - courtesy of wordle, because I'm just that lazy. I'm a Libra and can't make decisions for shit, so there are 2 choices.



Finally ... The Days are Getting Longer - Track List

1. This Year - The Mountain Goats
2. Why Not Smile - R.E.M.
3. Spent On Rainy Days - Bright Eyes
4. A Martyr For My Love For You - The White Stripes
5. Sound Of Terror - The Von Bondies
6. E-Bow - Sigur Rós
7. The Highest - The Dears
8. Fake Plastic Trees - Radiohead
9. Heart Of Gold - Neil Young
10. You, Appearing - M83
11. Maps - Yeah Yeah Yeahs
12. Blood Bank - Bon Iver
13. Lille - Lisa Hannigan
14. All We Have Is Now - The Flaming Lips
15. I Am The Odd One - Loney, Dear
16. Weather To Fly - Elbow
17. Oh Lord, My Heart - The Deadly Snakes
18. The Trouble and the Truth - Cuff The Duke

I've linked to all the band's websites, so if there is something you like, check it out, find their show dates, buy their music.

Be warned though, I have it on good authority that Cuff the Duke can cause spontaneous orgasms. At least live they can.

Words of Wisdom from Uncle Karl

"Loving someone is fine, but they have to love you back or it doesn’t work."

Thank you, Karl Lagerfeld, for Tweeting my life story in 140 characters or less.

******
I'm stuck for a track for Daily Sound, which is sort of redonk given my PhD in Unrequited Love (my education started in kindergarten with Danny White) so I'm taking suggestions. Anything you want to nominate as an anthem for the Union of the Emotionally Retarded and Flag Bearers of Inappropriate Crushes?

******

Update Nine Inch Nails - Something I Can Never Have. Obviously. I just needed a moment to access my deep chasm of self indulgent emotional dramatics and negotiate my way back to university - this song (playing on a bright yellow Sony Sports Walkman, natch), a bitterly cold fall night wandering Queen's campus with its spooky and imposing limestone buildings and the certain knowledge that a TA named Jason thought absolutely nothing of me beyond that I wrote great essays about dull films exploring themes of diaspora.

I'm linking to a video, because, well, Trent Reznor is hot. And this is a full service blog.

PS - I also wrote a paper on assumptions of male domination in Pretty Woman. That's right. Pretty Woman. They don't call it the Harvard of the North for nothing.

PPS - I still have those papers if any dishonest little buggers are looking for something in the 82% - 90% range. From Queen's remember. That's like 95% to 100% at normal schools. Snap! Oh yes I did! I am a snob.

I am also a Queen's dropout. Last laugh on me.

In lieu of having anything to say ...

I'm not in a bloggy place today, so in lieu of writing much of anything I'm going to post some photos that would have been up here eons ago if I hadn't been so delinquent with the blogging for, um, years. They won't be anything new to anyone who's poked through my Facebook albums (so both of you, most likely) but hells, they should have been posted eons ago.

Anywhoo.... I thought I'd post a few shots from my trip to China in 2006.

So of course the first day, running on very little sleep, we were trucked out to the Great Wall. It is spectacular. And challenging, having very steep and very uneven steps. And very surreal to get a good way up and hear Hollerback Girl blasting from a tour bus in the parking lot.



This killed me, we were at this massive buddha monument, and there were rollerskate rentals outside. If my little hospital side-trip hadn't just proved my universal health care less than universal I would have been tempted to throw injury caution to the wind and give'r.



I think this was the same day. The thing I had the hardest time with was being so on the go that it was hard to get good shots in. This might have been from the bus. There was something about the little outpost that was a little sad and lonely.



We did some hella touristy king fu shows and such. The first one was pretty impressive, but I'd stop at one next time.









I could have spent days wandering the houtongs in Beijing. So much history and life and bustle and smells just careening around in these little alleys.



I loved this guy, totally rickety ass old cart - and he's all chilled out texting on a way more skookum phone that I had at the time. Or have now for that matter.



Apparently the mayor was going to be coming through just after us, and this policeman was keeping an eye out for ruffians.



The rickshaws are very pretty, but oh my god, I thought it was going to fall apart under me, like in some bad cartoon.



Dave got a shot about 2 seconds after me where this little bag of donuts turned into something from Pet Cemetery.



This was taken in Jinan, which possibly my favorite place on the trip. They have a fantastic public space / park which is surrounded by a moat with bridges connecting it to the surrounding roadways. This busker blew my mind. Shame about the pollution smog though.



At night the park is total action - and not in a skeevy way. Ballroom dancing, rollerskating - well utilized public space, and kids that don't look like they rot on their asses playing video games all night.





I'm blanking out on the names of the towns these were taken in. Sorry, just got in from wings and beer. West Lake maybe?







There are some curious food storage practices. Which might explain my little e-coli induced hospital detour. (Note, I did not eat any of the foods shown below).









This is my favorite shot of the trip.



And totally unrelated, but because I am totally charmed by Christopher Walken's Twitter (part of my Lainey addiction issue - she's like a gateway drug) the Daily Sound- Lucinda Williams' Something About What Happens When We Talk goes out to him. Because I love a man that Twits about Lucinda Williams. And I'm feeling a little like this song lately.

Tuesday is the New Funday

I know I often bitch about Victoria's music scene - or lack thereof - because we don't get a fraction of the tour action Vancouver sees. True, there is little likelihood that Sigur Ros or Bloc Party will ever grace us with their presence, but to be fair, things are looking up for the next few months. Shout Out Out Out Out, Wintersleep (sold out before I got my damn ticket, so internet machine, bring me some ticket karma), Elliott Brood, Chad Vangaalen, Attack in Black (so much better live than recorded) and the Dears are on my to-do list, and with the lovely Otto making her way back from Deutschland in a month my good -time-lady-posse will be nicely rounded out. I'm priming up for some shoegazing with intermittent bouts of ass shaking. Thank God for Atomique Productions.

The Von Bondies show a few weeks ago shook me out of my bitching phase. First, The Racoons (Their choice to miss a c, not mine) left me wishing I'd hurried my ass up and gotten there earlier. Victoria has birthed some fantastic talent, and The Racoons seem poised to take the local hero status left vacant with Wolf Parade's move east. They're catchy as hell, tight on stage, and have some really trampy fans. Recipe for success? I think so.

I also ran into an old friend from high school - really more the super-awesome-arty-I-want-to-be-like-her-but-am-just-not-cool girlcrush from high school. And of course I completely dorked out, because that's what I do. And of course, she's still awesome and crushable, because that's who she is. We were chatting and a very attractive dude comes over, and she says "Don, this is my old friend Melissa. She came to see your band." Yeah, that would have been Don Blum, the Von Bondies' drummer. Friends with the Von Bondies from her year in Detroit .... further proof that, while the so called popular douchbags peak around 18 and wither into paunchy balding disasters, the arty awesome kids keep on that trajectory through life. And she did her Brenda Walsh face for me. Girlcrush, reactivated.

I started right at the front, because I love me some flinging band sweat, but, due to a gimpy back from a tumble down the stairs, and well, a bitchin' case of The Thirties, I had to retreat back a bit when the kids got all whipped up frenzylike. Moshing? They still do that? It sort of freaked me out that when I was going through my moshy phase most of the crowd was in the kindergarten to grade 3 range. Shudder.

Anyhow, Von Bondies, fantastic live. And this song, this one song, as I said to the friend I was with, is the soundtrack for a night you are out too late and drink too much and are probably a little high and are working your way out of your clothes before you hit the apartment door and have totally Quentin Tarantino movie sex with someone who's maybe a little dangerous and totally wrong for you ... Or that's how it struck me at the time. Not so much in the comfort of my bathrobe and living room, but live, oh hells yeah.

Daily Sound: Von Bondies - Sound of Terror. Listen here. Yes, I know it links to Amazon, but it's not on the Von Bondies MySpace, and I am disinclined to dick around looking for a cooler link.

On the way home we had a killer cab driver who was blogging on his iPhone when he picked us up. I forgot about it until now, but I just found his blog, diaryofataxidriver, and am glad I did, because it makes me want to dig out my Diana and Supersampler and take pretty, surreal photos of my friends. So, thank you taxi driver.

Oh. Dear. God. Not this blogging thing again....

That's right, I'm giving this another crack after a long hiatus. I'm still wrapping my head around the format / content this is going to take, but basically I was thinking Damn, I'm cranking through a lot of CDs burning mixes for my friends, I should podcast them. Which got me thinking about blogging, and having somewhere to post them. Plus, you know, third-life crisis going on (Sooo scary that I'm past quarter-life. Third-life is even optimistic. There aren't a lot of 96 year olds in my family.) so really, what better way to sort out my whole who am I, what do I want to do with my life angst than in a totally public forum that exactly two people are likely to read (Hey Michelle and Helen!). 

So, here's hoping I become an internet phenom, or at least break through my post-a-year barrier.


Daily Sound - Bon Iver Blood Bank. Listen here.