Lift Yr Skinny Fists Like Antenna to Heaven

Yesterday there were some words being thrown about. Strong words. Words like "perfect" and "record." I laid claimed to a few yet they've gone unheralded. Here begins the heralding:

This is another one of them "alone listenin'" records. I would suggest loud and laying down for a first listen. There are some who feel this record and the band in general are repetitive or even boring. True it is repetitive, but in the way that waves roll onto a beach are repetitive. Or crash into rocks depending on where you are in the record. This is how much of the album feels. Like waves. It will move you about if you let it envelope you in it's blanket of alternating ups and downs. And not just ups and downs, but the ins and outs. The small and the large. The constant struggle for balance between desolation and hope. There are bits that will give you chills, bits that may very well bring you to tears with their beauty, and there are some parts that are just damn good (the entire record.)

I quite hope you enjoy this record on at least half the level that I do. If you're already privy to the magic then...well done.

Perfection

the Stone Roses

Long ago there were roses (and well they continue.) A small minority of said roses were comprised of stone. For a band that only made two records they made quite the impact. Unfortunately, the Second Coming isn't fantastic. Their first record though is nearly flawless. Not a lot of nearly flawless records about. I can't think of any specific flaws, but let's not be throwing around words like perfect (though it just might be.)

The production on this record is both phenomenal and wildly appropriate. Appropriate is always the way (for me at least) to gauge production. If you want to know why some blues or country sounds great or others sound not so, look at the atmosphere presented just by the production values alone. Herein lies the problem with many (the majority of) recordings.


How about this?

Day Never of 30: The End

This is my formal resignation from the 30 days. Upon completing half of the 30, give or take, I have decided that this is nothing but a trite and self indulgent quest. That is not the purpose for which I started this blog and it is detracting from the initial intention. I have grown bored with it and now feel obligated to carry on. I don't want to feel obligated to write about something I love. So I will not be seeing it to completion. I will be returning to that initial intention of giving you something of worth. Not the silly autobiography that has overtaken the last two weeks. Thanks all the same. I'll be making it up to you.

Day 15 of 30: Take Me Back To Tulsa

A song that describes me:

I am terrified of failure. I am not afraid of losing a competition. I am afraid of life changing failure and the thought of being abandoned somewhere. I did not move to NYC when I was 20 because all I could think about was what would I do if I failed. I have no safety net. My parents would help in that case but at much harm to their shaky financial bases. I have never ventured out of the country and (used to) not go on many trips as a result of this fear.

I day dream a lot. I day dream about being in the studio, and spending all my free time in between records buying records. I day dream about interviews with magazines. What would I teach if I had my own column in Guitar World? These types of things. As a result, I lose focus and never get anything done. I spend so much time and effort on dreaming about making music that I never have time to make any actual music. It seems that I need to grow up before I get to do all this cool stuff. I am not a grown up.

I have thought before about getting married. It's something that grown ups do. But again...not a grown up.

Being with Monika though makes me feel much closer to being a grown up. I am quickly approaching the grown up finish line. Soon, I will do these grown up things.




Sorry this don't got Bob Wills. It's a bad ass version though.

Day 14 of 30: Witness

I keep no secret of my love for Sarah McLachlan's "Surfacing." Mother fuckers always be like "yo really?" whenever it comes up in conversation. I have selected one of my jams for you to gander with yon ears.

The cut:


Sorry. I don't feel much like writing today. I accidentally deleted a folder of more than half my music. I am on the hunt. See you tomorrow.

Day 13 of 30: Sistinas

This is supposed to be a day of guilty pleasure. I don't believe in them, but if there was ever something I am ashamed of...it's my love for Danzig. I used to be way into him and am now ashamed. His lyrics are so bad. And the music? Well it's not fantastic. There a still a few gems in the old heap though.

Here's one right here:


Sorry I don't have a story or anything interesting today, but this song's pretty good right? Not very metal I know, but what's a boy to do?

Day 12 of 30: Enjoy the Silence

Thought about this a bit, and it coulda been any number of things. Coulda been another one like Day 2 (see day 2.) Coulda been Ween. There are many things it...coulda been.

I don't much care for the '80's. It has been well documented, or would be if there were documents kept on such things. Here's my beef: what's up with '80's Prom and the like? Retro Nights all over the damn place. Why? For ironic hipster purposes? The music is terrible and everyone looks like a moron. There is equally crappy music that is "fun" and ironic from...blarg blargy barf. If you're here then chances are you've probably heard all this before so...

Here's a song I love...by a band I hate:

Day 11 of 30: Ana Ng

A song by my favorite band:



It's too hot to write. So I'm not gonna, plus it's nap time bitches. I could go on and on about the lyricism and arrangement genius of the two Johns. But you already know or you're never gonna. Either way I'm going to take a nap. So you can all fuck off. I'll have it back tomorrow...maybe.

Day 10 of 30: Untitled 3

I can sleep to pretty much any music just so long as there is some. Though I don't like sleeping. I never have. Even as a baby. My great grandmother said that I was afraid to miss anything. She was right and continues to be. In my infancy, my father would have to drive me around, radio up, to send me off to dreamland. He'd then head home and attempt to get me to a normal human sleeping place. I'd wake up. Sometimes he'd take for another spin. Other times he'd give up. If they'd just put a radio next to the crib maybe I'd have been fine and they'd have stayed sane.

I've been known to sleep to Screeching Weasel, Brother Inferior, Master P, They Might Be Giants, etc. I need music to keep my brain from wandering and messing about. There's a pretty lady what sleeps next to me most nights now, so I don't need the distraction like I usetah. But when I am lucky enough to rest my eyes at some music (naps and shit mostly,) I most times opt for Sigur Ros.

Day 9 of 30: The opening theme to 30 Rock

Let us hope that the rest of the month brings better topics than days 8 and 9. I'm not gonna say a whole lot about "a song you can dance to." Just let it be known that I NEVER skip past this theme song, and that I dance a little jig while seated for every viewing.

Day 8 of 30: Sleepover

There was once a Blooty. Pepsi presented, and there were some who found it spectacular.

James and I got sick of the whole Blooty ordeal and so put an end to the Dragon Carcasses and Archipelagos of your basement party shenanigans. After a couple years of prodding and whining and pleading and ego stroking we caved and gave the people one last taste. One last taste with some additions. There was a song we'd yet to unleash (Skateboard,) and we'd always wanted to cover 50 Million's "Sleepover."

The problem with "Sleepover" was the lyrics. The second verse was the aural equivalent of illegible . After a week or so of trying to piece together syllables, we'd come up with slightly more than nothing. The internet (for once) wasn't much help. I had to get on the myspace (aw remember that little guy?) and message Shell, asking for his blessing and the lyrics to the second verse. He responded, we learned the song, we blew up more amplifiers and the rest is absolutely guaranteed to be lost in the cracks of history with the rest of this story and all my others most likely.

Can I just say that day 8 is lame? How many songs do you know all the words to? I have entire discographies memorized (mostly.) This is silly. But I took an oath (I did?) to complete the 30 days, and I'm not gonna cheat and skip (Leah.)

You can download it and unzip to listen:

http://www.mediafire.com/?y3gao5czyq78ogp

Here it is, it's Sleepover b/w Whiskey Eyes!

Day 7 of 30: Walking the Dog

A song that reminds me of a certain event:

My father plays music. I believe I've mentioned this. He's always in a band (or 5,) and he hails from the old style of playing lost to most modern musicians. Knowing your shit and just playing.

There was one band of his in Indiana, Loaded Dice. They were a Rhythm and Blues band. The same type as the Blues Brothers, but without the showy front men. This is one of the songs they did.

Listen here.

Every year we would go to a Hog Roast at some farm. Several smokers going all day. Five or six of them at least. The guy working the spits would open one up and ask what part, cut off that part, and put it directly on your plate. But the best part was the corn. One big charcoal roaster with nothing but fresh corn in the husk. A guy wearing welding mitts would grab an ear, pull back the husks, dip it in a coffee can full of melted butter and hand it to you like a popsicle. Plus there was volleyball and unlimited cans of all kinds of soda.

When the sun dropped, the band would play in a pavilion in the middle of the yard. My father's band. The first year we attended, Loaded Dice opened with "Walking the Dog." The first time I had heard this song. When my father and I happen to play music together (quite infrequently) we play "Walking the Dog," and the whole time I think about the annual hog roast in LaPorte.

Day 6 of 30: Disposable Heroes

A song that reminds me of a place:

I once summered in Maine. To be more precise I stayed for about a month with my grandparent's in New Hampshire near Maine and ventured over the Mainey border almost daily. I took with me a back pack full of clothes and a gym bag full of tapes. For all my worry about needing just the right tape for every occasion, only about two got any attention. The Dead Milk Men's "Death Rides A Pale Cow" and Metallica's "Master of Puppets."

Most of the songs on these records have become part of my normal rotation and so have lost any nostalgia attached to them. But the rarely brought up "Disposable Heroes" kept its salt and pine aroma. This song pops up and I see the apple orchard of the monastery where I learned to drive a truck. I see the tomato garden and maple forest of that same monastery. I taste bagels and coca-cola. I play hearts with my late grandmother and great aunt. It's funny really how a song about war can conjure so many non-warlike memories. It was the first song on the second side of the tape, and I was generally just trying to get to Orion (still my favorite Metallica song.)

So that's that for this. Maybe tomorrow I'll have something worth reading? Here's the song if you want to listen, not that'll it'll have any effect on you.

Day 5 of 30: Back Slider

A song that reminds me of someone:

Let me tell you about a guy. My uncle, Richard Perisho. If the journey of 1,000 miles starts with the first step then he was he kick out the door. As I was discovering the amazing music of the Smashing Pumpkins, Nirvana, Nine Inch Nails, etc, he and Mary (my aunt, his wife, my dad's youngest sister) were there to show me the submerged part of that iceberg.

He took me to see my second ever concert, the Reverend Horton Heat. So we're standing around in the Cain's Ballroom waiting for the bands to begin. I'm donning my newly acquired Joy Division shirt. Richard and his friend Alan are having an animated conversation about their new found love, the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. I had liked most everything he'd thrown at me so far, and this idea of a "blues explosion" intrigued me. I give him a blank requesting Blues Explosion. Cassette is returned with Orange on one side; Extra Width the other. One blank 90 minute is all it took to change my view on the limits of rock-n-roll. At the time I mostly listened to Extra Width, and Back Slider still reminds me of Richard (and Mary) and all the music to which I had been exposed as a result of hanging out at their house.



Orange is the best rock-n-roll record ever made by the way. Just in case you were wondering.

Day 4 of 30: You're Gonna Make It, Joe

A song that makes me sad:

In the middle of fourth grade my family moved back to Tulsa from LaPorte, IN. I love Tulsa now, but in my youth it was the worst decision my family could've made. You'd think that the quality of schools wouldn't have much of an effect on a child. It's something only parents think about, right? Nope. From the first day at Union's Briarglen Elementary I knew this was a major step down. I was learning stuff in fourth grade that I had learned in 2nd "back home." And the kids. The kids were just fucking mean, and the teachers, some of them, were even worse. 4-6th grade at Union we're the worst years of my life.

I can't pay attention to a teacher without doodling. So I draw all the time in class. I don't take notes really. I just draw and it all sticks in my brain. But I had this teacher in 5th grade. My reading teacher, Ms. Spurgeon. She (and all the other teachers) hated my drawing. Thought I wasn't paying attention. And it pissed 'em off to no end when I could repeat what they had just said, verbatim, after trying to call me out in front of the class. Ms. Spurgeon was the worst though. She would stop talking, walk up to my desk, grab my paper, and throw it in the trash. She'd make some condescending comment and then go back to teaching. There were several times that it made me cry out of pure frustration. This obviously did nothing to help my social status with those ugly fuckers.

This song brings up all of that in my mindstuffs every time.
Listen by clicking the title (and then clicking the title:)

• You're Gonna Make It, Joe by Daniel Johnston

More Daniel Johnston music on iLike

Day 3 of 30: The Group Who Couldn't Say

A song that makes me happy:

My childhood was spent mostly in creeks and woods (when not playing Nintendo.) In LaPorte there were woods behind my house and woods behind the those across the street. There were abandoned factories behind the across-the-street woods. The factories had been reclaimed by the woods. The other kids on my street and I would tramp around all day out there. We would catch snakes and turtles and frogs and toads and salamanders and all manner of small woodland creatures. The wildlife would be taken home and kept alive in a box. We had a rule though, you had to let it go after a week. I'm not sure who came up with that rule just that it was followed by everyone. We would always let them go.

If you haven't in a while or ever, get yourself out to the Oxley Nature Center (or local equivalent if not in Tulsa.) Get a map (or don't) and wander the trails. The marsh stuff is the best (don't wear shoes that you like.) I can't wait for camping in October. I wish that a certain couple of NY stylists could come, but alas. It's good to know that I will never be like the people in this song and that's why it was picked for day 3.

Day 2 of 30: Home

My least favorite song:

I don't know much about Three Days Grace or their songs. I don't expect to learn more. I do know that it was going to take something really special, a once in a lifetime shit on a single, to dethrone Trapt and their song "Head Strong." Well done, Three Days Grace. Well done indeed.

It just goes to show that no matter how bad it gets or something is, it can always be worse. Much worse. I am not anticipating the moment this song is one-upped. Let's all move along then quickly to something else. We're only encouraging them.

Day 1 of 30: I Saw Her Standing There

My favorite song:

The majority of my second year on this earth comes up blank in the old memory banks. But one thing I remember for sure: my earliest memory of music. The the first song I can remember hearing. So when someone asks, "what's your favorite song?" I give em this, because it is an impossible question.

In a garage smelling of what I would come to know as cigarettes, Pepsi, and old carpet; this song was performed/rehearsed by my father and the other guys with whom he played. It was followed (in this order) by Brown Sugar (Stones) and Midnight Hour (Wilson Pickett.) Could've done much worse for first musical memory.

I was a bit confused on the lyrics for some time. I heard them as "I held her hand in Hawaii" as opposed to "I held her hand in mine." I assumed my father had written this number since he was the one singing it. I also assumed that Angela Lansbury's character was named "Murder She Wrote" so there you have it. Anywho, the source of toddler me's confusion was that I'm pretty sure my parents have never been to Hawaii (wherever that is.) The song being obviously about my mother because dad doesn't dance with other ladies. This confusion went on until I learned of the Beatles. Then I was wondered what that Beatle was doing at a dance dancing and not playing and singing.

So with no such thing as a favorite song. This is my favorite song.

And if you ever wondered why I analyze things to death. Seems its been going on longer than I can remember.

Also: (I like ( ).)

Rainer Maria S/T EP

This is one of those records you don't think about for awhile, but it pops up and you're in love again. You know those? Everybody's got those , right?

This debut EP is an excellent exercise in counterpoint. Her delicate voice vs. shrill guitar and feedback. His loud and off key voice vs. her fragile and thin bass tone. Drums to the front and on top of everything. There's a good amount going on in here for a simple standard set up three piece.

The first track, Summer & Longer, has made it onto more mix tapes than I can count. The idea of mixtapes is kind of what sparked the idea for this blog. Sharing not mixes though but full records. As we all listen/hear in entirely different ways, with different agendas in our pursuits of whatever it is that drives us to listen. I hope to discuss these records with you to understand better what you hear or how you listen.

Enjoy:

http://www.mediafire.com/?47w6xjysyyo31p7

Millions Now Living Will Never Die

For those of you turned off by Godspeed You! Black Emperor and the like, for shame. However this might be your way in. A redemption, an eye opener, a revelation? Now I'm completely off a subject I haven't even gotten around to. This is a much lighter approach to the usually foreboding arena of instrumental or post-rock.

Tortoise has a few records, and sadly this is the only good one. It's fantastic actually. The others? Well they're just sort of boring and uncohesive. They're not bad, they just "don't," if you follow. Millions Now Living however, is a journey the way great records tend to be. The kind of record that when it ends you kind of want to wait a while before you move onto to something else. As if the silence that follows is still a part of the piece. This is what great records do.

( I'm finding it easier to have something to say about these without the, "I first heard/became aware of this..." blargy barf.)

Come on in:

http://www.mediafire.com/?hbu6ectzenh5gkb

The Worse It Gets the Better

Last time we played with Shellshag, Jenn gave me this record. They always throw awesome shit at me when they come through.

This is Songs For Moms, a Bay Area band in the vein of This Bike Is a Pipe Bomb. Get on it. These girls demand a wider fan base. If you like it please order it from Star Cleaner Records. They're not near big enough for it to be okay for you to steal this. You're just borrowing it from me.

Go Here.

Young Bodies Heal Quickly, You Know

In the last year or so John Congleton made three fantastic records. Pink Mountaintops, Baroness, and Mount Righteous. Back in the day he made great records of his own. This is one of them.

I thought I'd have quite a bit more to say than this about these records. Oh well.

At any rate:

http://www.mediafire.com/?53ypya2zcbvi2ql

Into the Labyrinth

There are several who know of their magic. There are more who have heard the name. Even more still who have no idea. This is magic.

DCD have several albums (this is 6 of 8.) However, this is where to start. You should not listen to this record just any old time. It must be taken alone. It is not for driving. It is not for cleaning. It demands your full attention, decent volume, and a comfortable seating arrangement.

Oh, and don't call it goth.

You're welcome:

http://www.mediafire.com/?qygz1dks9t4o2uy

Bust the Action

You probably have no urge/reason to read this. It is a blog however, so blog I will (try.)

Shell and Wade (more Shell) will forever be two of my main influences. Not in lyrics, not in sound, not in anything tangible. The genius is in their approach. Use what you got, where you are, and make a great record. They're not tied to a genre, but their limited resources keep the album focused and flowing. I could tell you the story of how James and I...but you couldn't care less. You're either gonna love it or not love it. Give it a few goes. If you don't, too bad for Elvis. If you do, welcome to the club (cult.)

I'm aware that I've done little to persuade you on this record.

Hopefully this will do it:

http://www.mediafire.com/?i9vd9f7r52yi2a9