Let’s Go There

I’ve had a song stuck in my head for the past couple of days. And I think when you know what the song is, and I tell you the parts that are lingering in my mind, it will probably explain a lot about how my life is going now.

The song is grunge, 90s, rock, with a cruncy guitar and a deep-voiced male vocalist and the hook catches my attention right away. I am the kind of person who absolutely listens to, and tries to contextualize, the lyrics, and the opening stanzas are about not wanting to wake up from a beautiful dream. Hiding from the painful, hate-filled, stressful, disconnected real world; that is a yearning I share, more and more every day. I’m dragging my ass through the day-to-day, trying to make sure that every day I’m doing everything I can to try to get the income and resources that will let me keep a roof over my head. It’s bad, and feels like it’s getting worse.

The ones we have elected to lead us are absolutely not on the same page as the majority of us. They diminish and dismiss — or worse, oppose — our protests. We stand together and say “not in our name” and they claim we’re on the side of the enemy, an enemy they’ve demonized and dehumanized. The people our leaders listen to just want to collect as much profit as possible, stockpiling away billions that are generated by the labor we are all forced, under pain of death, to generate.

It’s obscene. I know no other way to describe it.

My dreams can be so much better than the real world. In part because sometimes, rarely, I can dream lucidly. If you’re not aware of what lucid dreaming is, it’s the ability to regain control and consiciousness while still in a dreaming state. When that happens, it feels like I can actually do magic; anything I can imagine becomes possible, at least as long as I stay asleep.

I’m not sure the vocalist for this song is singing about lucid dreaming but it’s clear that when they are sleeping, they see a perfect, love-filled, beautiful world. In the second verse, they even admit that the dreams help them see how imperfect the world, the real world, is. And finally they sing about making their dreams and the world the same.

“Let’s ask; can we stay?” is the line that nearly brings me to tears. Who’s permission do I need to stay in a perfect world? What sacrifice do I need to make in order to make the earth and my dreams the same? My aching heart, my tired soul, my punished mind and aging body, would give almost anything for a real world that is even slightly better for us, all of us, the ones whose blood make things work but do not get to retain the rewards of our efforts.

The final refrains of the song are where my hope does not feel able to meet the vocalists’ hope. The music swells, the vocalists’ voice lifts and roars, the guitars crunch… and my own spirits fall. I replay the song, hoping this time my shriveled heart will be able to keep going.

With him up up, I’m not strong enough to take these dreams and make them mine.

But maybe you are. Can you take me higher?

The Devil and Bean Dad

In the car with dad, me driving, him riding shotgun. I was driving carefully through busy freeway traffic, navigating west on the Banfield on our way to a doctor’s appointment for him.

My Happy playlist was on shuffle, volume low, but I caught the opening chords of a driving buzzing guitar riff, and John Roderick’s warm, dynamic, resonant voice sang

“American schools called you Starlight
in fourteen point type
Ten times ten, and then
your most brutal-ful smile”

and I couldn’t help but turn the volume up and try to sing along. My voice, ravaged by a persistent cough and allergies, couldn’t keep up even at my best, but I did nod my head along to the beat.

Dad, his neck artificially stiffened with the metal rods the surgeons used to repair his broken spine, looked over at me from the corner of his eye, his head turning like Batman, from the shoulders. Dad’s mouth turned into a little smile.

“I,” I said, “have such… complicated feelings about this song.”

Dad’s eyebrow crooked a question at me that I could feel even though my eyes were fixed forward out the windshield. The wipers intermittently wiped away droplets of rain, squeaking just over the music.

“I don’t imagine you’ve ever heard of The Long Winters, but they are basically John Roderick. I’m pretty sure this whole album was written and performed by him, maybe with some session players from Seattle. I first heard him play as an opening act for another band I love.”

Long pause as the memories of standing at the edge of the stage of the Aladdin Theater, next to the speakers, listening to John Roderick and Sean Nelson from Harvey Danger, performing together. And at my side, she leaned into me, softly singing along. I felt her tiny but strong body fit perfectly against mine, my arm around her lower back.

“It was an early date with… Deb.” Or as my friends at the time called her, Devil. I scoured my memory. I don’t think Deb ever met any of my family. That had actually been a red flag. “You never met her, but Deb and I had one of those hot-and-cold relationships. We were either madly in love, or hated each others’ guts. And since we discovered The Long Winters together, when he sings about the New Girl, I can only think of Deb.”

“You erased so many mistakes
By sitting up and smiling
Your solo show
I hope it never closes
It was the ride of my life
Twice, you burned your life’s work
Once to start a new life
And once just to start a fire”

I laughed, loudly, suddenly, in the car. I gestured with a free hand, palm down, showing one level, then moving my hand up to cut a higher level. “And then, on top of all of that, there’s the whole Bean Dad thing.” I laughed again, feeling dad’s confusion at the reference.

“I don’t know what that means,” he said, finally.

“I know, I know! Sorry. So several years ago, John Roderick got canceled on Twitter for making a dumb joke about making his daughter cook some beans. He was trying to be funny, to play a character, the mean dad who makes his child do something hard to teach her a lesson, and it did not go over well. He got pushback, and instead of just saying he was exagerating, he doubled down and pushed back even harder. Eventually he deleted his Twitter account, stopped making his podcasts, and the Kids Online called him Bean Dad. It was silly and stupid.”

“If my nephew or neice were in the car right now and this song came on, they would have their own reaction to this, probably a very negative reaction. But damn, if I don’t love their music.”

So many complicated feelings in one song. And despite my attempt at explanation, I was quite certain dad had not even the slightest idea what I was talking about.

We drove over the ramp from the Banfield onto I-205 South, in the gray Friday rain.

Travis

This is my public apology to Christi. Back in February, she posted about running into some skanky (but in a good way) boys in her apartment complex who were playing and singing songs by a band called Travis.

I’d never heard of Travis before and asked her about them, and she recommended a bunch of songs, including (and I am not making this up) their cover of Britney Spears’ “Hit Me Baby (One More Time)” which, Christi insisted to me, was hawesome (although she might not have used that word). She also compared them to Radiohead, for which statement I berated her because there is no other band like Radiohead, past, present or into the future.

I made a trip to my favorite used music store and found two Travis albums in the used bin (I’m a cheap motherfucker), ripped them to my iPod and listened to them once through.

I bought “The Invisible Band” and “The Man Who”.

I liked them – melodic and synth-heavy and definitely BritPop.

Lately I’ve been shuffling through my library, but once every couple of days I still like to pick out a CD and listen straight through. And in the last couple of weeks, more often than not, I picked one of the two Travis CDs. They have been growing on me. I haven’t really added any new music to my collection in a while, mostly just picking up new releases from bands I already like, and I think my lack of newness has been affecting me – might explain why I’m letting the iPod do all the work of choosing my tunes lately. But Travis satisfies the need for new.

…to be perfectly honest, they’re still not as good as Radiohead. However, they do come close. All they’d need is lyrics that are far more angsty, and to try once in a while for a completely different sound, to stretch out musically. But they’re still good, and better than some of the other BritPop bands I’d tried.

(Like Manic Street Preachers. What the hell was I thinking? Blech.)

At any rate, this post is a public apology to Christi for doubting her and for dismissing the idea that Travis could have any comparison to Radiohead without, y’know, listening to the band first. I should know better.

I still haven’t heard their cover of Britney, however… dammit, iTunes Music Store! Why don’t you have that song? I’ve got all these free credits available for download…

Coldplay’s got RULES

Coldplay’s new CD has rules.

Can’t play it in the car, can’t play it in a Mac, can’t make MP3s out of it, it may or may not hose your Windows PC if you try to play it in there… And you can’t read the rules until you’ve bought the CD and, well, they’re not offering refunds, sorry. You bought into a contract blind, and now you’re stuck.

At least that’s the theory they’re operating under.

Now, is this Coldplay’s fault? Or is this the fault of the corporation that has bought their human “talent” and is selling them for the corporate good?

Either way, it’s just another reason I’m not going to buy any Coldplay music. The first reason being, I think their music sucks. Heh. Like I needed extra reasons beyond that, huh?

Cynical Christmas Mix

And now, on this Day After Christmas Eves’ Eve, I present to you my Cynical Christmas Mix:

  1. Father Christmas – The Kinks
  2. Sometimes You Have To Work On Christmas (Sometimes) – Harvey Danger
  3. I’ve Got Some Presents For Santa – Sarah Taylor & Bill Mumy
  4. Fairytale of New York – The Pogues
  5. Santa Baby – Eartha Kitt
  6. Christmas Song – Adam Sandler
  7. Holiday In Cambodia – Dead Kennedys
  8. Another Auld Lang Syne – Dan Fogleberg
  9. Christmas At Ground Zero – Weird Al Yankovic
  10. Punk Rock Christmas – Sex Pistols
  11. Christmas At Ground Zero – Weird Al Yankovic
  12. I Won’t Be Home For Christmas – Blink 182
  13. A Spaceman Came Travelling – Chris De Burgh
  14. Christmas Wrapping – The Waitresses
  15. So This Is Christmas – John Lennon
  16. River – Joni Mitchell
  17. Snowmiser Song – Mr. Snowmiser
  18. Heatmiser Song – Mr. Heatmiser

I’m pretty sure that all of the Seven Deadly Sins are well represented there, along with the Four Horsemen of the Apocolypse. It includes a few of the saddest songs I know… Perfect for sitting at home on Christmas Eve, drinking heavily, and wrapping presents for the special ones in your life. Especially the drinking part.

I’d love to comment specifically on some of the songs, but I’ve got to run down to the corner store and pick up more mixers. Luckily I laid in a good stock of Johnny Walker Red (it’s booze in a Christmas color!) for tonight’s wrapping extravaganza…

Mmmm… Cake at The Crystal Ballroom

Mmmm… Cake.

Saw Cake at the Crystal Ballroom last night. Cake is one of my all-time favorite bands (I’m a blogger, I can use superlatives like that) and I’ve been waiting to see them live for a long time. Last time they were in Portland, tickets could only be had by calling in to the local “alternative” radio station, so, yeah, I was out of luck. I may have emailed the band and told them that they’d better get their asses back to Portland so that fans who don’t have the spare time to sit around calling a local radio station to snag tickets to see them, could see them.

The opening act was two guys calling themselves The Punk Group (warning: site requires Flash Ugh). Good, local, sounded kinda like Devo. In fact, they had distinctive black t-shirts, black hats, black wristbands and white sunglasses, giving them the near-conformity of look that Devo had. Their lyrics were hilarious.

Cake, on the other hand, don’t have a conformity of anything. They were late to the stage, where a crowded, sweaty house was resorting to chanting “We want Cake! We want Cake!” and even booing after a bit when they still didn’t show. Finally the band took the stage at 10:25. But once they were up on stage, all previous asshattery was forgotten.

Later, after a couple of songs, McCrea said, “Cake isn’t very professional in at least one way…” to which I shouted (but probably wasn’t heard) “Yeah! You were late!” but it turned out that he was referring to their lack of a set list. “It makes us feel like a damned jukebox,” he said, and the crowd started shouting out requests. “Don’t tell us what to do!” he admonished the audience. “We play what we feel like!” To which the fans responded with a cheer. Anyone who likes Cake likes every single song so anything they felt like playing was met with cheers.

The lead singer, John McCrea, struck me with an odd presence on stage. Distracted, distant… the more I think about it, much like the band’s music, which is also ironic and detatched.

I danced. Wow. I didn’t care who saw me. I danced, I pogoed, I sang along, I participated in the audience-participation sections, like the men vs. women singing on “No Phone” from their new album “Pressure Chief”. I had a great time.

Highlight of Cake’s set was John McCrea, lead singer, dedicating the following song to “FEMA, New Orleans, and George W. Bush”, giving a new twist to the lyrics:

You part the waters,
The same ones that I’m drowning in.
You lead your casual slaughters,
And I’m the one who helps you win.

You’ve got your grand piano.
You don’t even play piano.
I’m the one who plays piano.
You don’t even play piano.

You part the waters,
The same ones that I’m thirsty for.
You invite your friends to tea,
But when it’s me you lock the door.
You’ve got your credit cards,
And you thank your lucky stars.
But don’t forget the ones who foot the bill.

You’ve got your grand piano.
And you don’t even play piano.
I’m the one who plays piano.
You don’t even play piano,
But you part the waters.

Mr. McCrea also had a rant about not being able to buy beer on a Sunday in South Bend, Indianapolis, Indiana (yes, he made the mistake of calling the state “Indianapolis”) and turned it into a plea for further separation of church and state, and bemoaned the demise of 3/4 rhythm in popular music, which turned into an introduction to “Mexico”.

If I find a full set list for the show, I’ll post it. Nothing’s shown up yet on the internets (but I’m sure it’s out there).

Harvey Danger at The Crocodile

I shouldn’t have waited so long to blog my Saturday trip to Seattle. I’m sure I’m going to leave out something. As it is, this looks to be a fairly long post.

I did put up all the pictures I took while up there. Yeah, all eight of them. I wanted to take a bunch in the Science Fiction Museum but they didn’t allow cameras. Bummer. Guess y’all will have to go see it yourselves. It’s worth it.

But I’m ahead of myself. The main reason I went was to see Harvey Danger play. They have a third album coming out in a month, “Little by Little”, and have started doing shows to promote it. I saw them last December, but didn’t get to see the whole set due to freakin’ traffic from Hell. This time, I wouldn’t make that same mistake. Although I did end up having a lot of time to kill due to poor reasoning…

I got up fairly early for a Saturday and picked up a FlexCar. I got a Toyota Prius… yeah, the “hybrid” electric/gas-powered car. Turns out it did OK on the highway. A little bit underpowered but cruised along at 75 MPH just fine. I think I took a hybrid last time, too… but the Honda Civic Hybrid.

Oh, yeah, and I ran before leaving this time, too, about 6 miles worth of treadmill and elliptical trainer speedwork. But I stretched well after and there was a couple of hours before I sat down for the 3+ hour drive north… Had breakfast at the Skybox, a sports bar in my neighborhood I’d never tried. I was lured in by the menu item “Cinnamon Bread French Toast”.

Mmmmm. Let me pause for a moment and savor the memory of Cinnamon Bread French Toast. Ah.

The Skybox is run by an older couple, and their banter back and forth made for a very home-y atmosphere. It’s a fun place. I’ll be back.

And once I got Smacky some water and food, and did my best to balance the twin desires of keeping my home secure from intruders and keeping it cool for Smacky and me, I was off. I left town around 1:00 PM. The show started at 9:00 PM. I had plenty of time

Yeah, I was super early. Even earlier, once you consider that the first band went on at 10:00, the second band went on at 11:00… and Harvey Danger, the headliner, didn’t go on until midnight. Oy.

The drive was uneventful. I stopped once to get some water and a snack. No close encounters with road-rage-inflamed drivers. Weather was gorgeous. Car performed normally. Parking, which worried me considering how expensive it is in Portland, was only $3.00 for all-day. I was relieved.

My main plan for killing time was to visit the Science Fiction Museum, a geeks’ paradise. Mainly funded by one of the co-founders of Microsoft, Paul Allen, it houses the most amazing collection of movie props, memorabilia, costumes, and technologically-minded displays I have ever seen. I guess being incredibly rich makes it easy to collect things like the original robot from “Lost in Space” or the model for the Alien Queen from “Aliens” or Darth Vader’s mask from “The Empire Strikes Back” or… or… well, you name a sci-fi movie, any one ever made, and there’s something representing that movie in this museum.

I spent two hours and could have spent more time, and I could go on and on, but let me mention my favorite exhibit. The conceit of the SFM is that it’s a space station, and on one level, the level dealing with science-fictional transportation, there’s a “window” that looks out on the docking ring. It’s really a very crisp monitor that’s easily 8′ across behind a glass window but the effect is impressive. In front of the “window” are touch-screen monitors that list all of the spaceships currently docked at the station. And out the window, in motion, coming and going and avoiding each other, all to the same scale, large and small, are many of the most beloved spaceships of all time. Yes, there’s an Imperial Star Destroyer and the Millennium Falcon and the starship Enterprise… of course. But there are also ships like the Planet Express from “Futurama” and the alien mothership from “Close Encounters of the Third Kind” and the Red Dwarf from, well, “Red Dwarf”. Very cleverly done, and calling up the information on that ship on one of the displays seemed to send that particular ship into action, landing or taking off or just zipping around or lumbering by, whichever suited that particular ship. I loved that window.

There are other great touches to the museum. For instance, they were constantly playing noises or other throwaway bits from different SF stories over the loudspeakers. I won’t give anything away but it’s practically a trivia contest in itself.

But even though I left the museum shortly before close, I still had hours and hours to go until the show started. I killed some time just walking around the Pacific Science Center. I debated going up in the Space Needle, but they charge for that and I’ve been up there so many times before. Mostly I wandered around the city, and looked for some food. Had Mexican again, just ’cause I got tired of looking for a place and was pretty hungry after all that walking around. Indulged in a lime margarita which could have been a lot bigger but was probably just right.

At one point, walking around, near the venue (the Crocodile Cafe), I saw Sean and Aaron from the band walking by, checking their watches and hurrying. I had a “do I act like a fan?” moment and decided to keep to myself. I had just put away my camera or I might have tried to sneak a picture of Sean’s crazy hair.

Here’s another oddness. Here I was, in a strange city, a tourist, and yet I still get asked for directions from people. What is it? Is it the fact that I’m on foot? Do I just look comfortable or confident? I rarely feel that way, but there’s got to be something going on that attracts so many lost people to me. Go figure.

I missed the opening band, mainly on purpose, but saw most of the middle band’s set. They’re called Razrez, which is pronounced in two syllables, and is just as crappy a name as they are a band. Just sayin’. Imagine the Ramones with lots more confidence and lots less skill or showmanship. Yeah. They could play guitar really fast.

And wandering around the club, I spotted John Roderick from the Long Winters’ out front, regaling a table with a story about something. I almost didn’t recognize him as he had shaved off the beard. He looked about 15 years younger, which means he looked about 15. I was a bit more tempted to shake him and ask when their new album is due out and why do we have to wait so freakin’ long… but sadly the margarita wasn’t big enough for that much courage.

After Razrez’s set ended, there was a 20 minute pause while the members of Harvey Danger got set up. Jeff Lin, the guitarist, came out and was tuning his guitar, very focused on his tasks and ignoring the crowd… until some guy yelled out “We love you, Jeff!” and Jeff blushed but did not look up. Sean Nelson showed up briefly to distribute the set lists and seemed genuinely embarrassed by the cheer from the crowd.

In the crowd, waiting for the show to start, I was standing near a guy who looked exactly like a live-action Steve Dallas, of Bloom County fame. Same greasy dark hair, same sunglasses, same bent cigarette dangling out of his mouth, same unbuttoned shirt. It was uncanny. He looked just like this. He was hilarious and only minorly annoying. He played “Air Guitar” to the songs, and sometimes even “Air Drums” but mostly did this strange not-pointing move with his hands where he would raise his hands in beat with the song but his index finger was pointed down. Hard to describe but it looked like a spastic symphony conductor.

Once the set started, Sean explained that their third album, “Little by Little” was coming out in a month, “so we have a request to make. We would like to play the entire CD, front to back, for you tonight. We have not done that yet.” Of course, the crowd loved that idea. The album, in my opinion, is going to rock. After one hearing, admittedly live, I think that I’m going to like this one as much as their first one, and probably more than their second album. Good stuff. “Little Round Mirrors” is, so far, my favorite.

Before starting the duet “Innuendo”, Sean explained that John Roderick was supposed to come out to do the second part of the song but that he literally had a frog in his throat which needed to be removed. Sean had to do both parts himself, which made for an odd performance. I’m pretty sure Sean was engaging in hyperbole, because Roderick came out to sing harmony vocals on one of the encore songs and there was no sign of any amphibians at all, although Roderick’s voice was a bit the worse for wear so anything’s possible, I suppose.

After going through all the songs from the CD, they then played a bunch of rockin’ tunes from their first two albums, starting with the one song I really really wanted to hear live, “Terminal Annex”. I was pogoing and jumping by that point, mainly because if I jumped up above the crowd I got some fresher, cooler air. The entire set list can be found on the HD message board, including their three-song encore, in this thread (scroll down).

After the show, I snagged one of the posters, and hung around for a bit to see if I could get them to sign it for me, but it was hot, I was tired, and I had a 3+ hour drive ahead of me. Thanks to the power of Diet Rock Star, I made it back home with a minimum of hallucinations and nearly no close scrapes. I dropped the car off at it’s parking spot in the Pearl District, and rode the city bus home, where I promptly collapsed into bed to begin my day-and-a-half recovery period.

It was a great trip.

New Long Winters music

This just in:

Over on the Long Winters’ forum, someone called “unremarkable” has announced that Barsuk Records has announced that:

  • The Long Winters’ new album will be released in early 2006 (OK, we knew that already!)
  • And that there will be a Long Winters EP out in September of this year.

Yay! New music!

PS: Sorry for the cruel (or maybe just “not funny to anyone but me”)Long Winters joke I played a while ago. Couldn’t resist. I stole that joke from the above-mentioned forums.

Little by Little

Harvey Danger’s third album has been mastered.

Per their main page, they’ve set a release date, named the album (“Little by Little”, not as catchy as their previous two) and are playing a show in Seattle to celebrate it… in freakin October.

Still, it will make me happy to hear new Harvey Danger material.

Finding Sean Nelson’s personal site, filled with his coolio writing and sample of some of the non-HD stuff he’s done, is tiding me over until freakin’ October. And I learned that all my heroes, like myself, self-Google. I wonder if they also ex-girlfriend-Google..?

I think I’m gong to refer to the tenth month of the year as “freakin’ October” now and for the rest of my life. It’s fun. G’head, try it yourself, see if it’s not.