It's snowing ballz outside. Happy holidays to all. I miss you. This is my 100th post. Arright. XO.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Christmas from Hoth.
It's snowing ballz outside. Happy holidays to all. I miss you. This is my 100th post. Arright. XO.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Dan Fogelberg: 1951-2007
I remember memorizing "Longer" in the backseat of my mom's Volvo station wagon as a preschooler while we listened to K-Lite 92.something, cruising down the sweltering rivers of concrete in Houston. Sweetest horn solo ever. There are no more tender poets.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The fruits of my labor!
“Monosylabik”: Construction Through Deconstruction
by The Grizz
What happens when music is no longer played on conventional instruments? What becomes of the medium through which the music is conveyed? What happens when the recordings and technology used to capture instrumentation become the instrumentation? One can find answers to these questions in the advent of the DJ as musician and artist: While disc jockeys once simply changed records and pushed the play button, the modern DJ often employs records, samples, turntables, mixers, and computer programming in the composition of music. Some of what they create sounds wholly original, but it’s often cobbled from bits and pieces of other compositions. With the defining lines of what makes music “music” continually blurring, in the modern music world, we may find ourselves struggling to categorize half of what we hear. The front lines in the battle over this categorization play out in the ever-evolving genre of electronic music.
DJ Shadow (a.k.a. Josh Davis), a prominent figure in the world of instrumental hip-hop for over a decade, remains among the “turntablists”-turned-composers who have helped redefine the electronic music movement. Shadow’s compositional technique, until fairly recently, centered almost entirely on the construction of music through the looping, cutting, and rearranging of samples. Quite plainly, the samples and the turntable themselves serve as his primary instruments. He takes this methodology to the extreme with a track off his sophomore album, 2002’s The Private Press, called “Monosylabik.” The song took two months to complete and consists of one introductory 2-bar, 3-second phrase, looped, sliced, diced, rearranged, and pitch-shifted to create a nearly seven-minute study in deconstruction.
Credited as a key figure in the development of experimental, non-vocal oriented hip-hop, DJ Shadow began honing his mixing and mastering expertise as a high school student in Northern California in the late eighties. Influenced by hip-hop originators like Public Enemy, Eric B & Rakim, and Ultramagnetic MCs, he experimented on a four-track before leaving for college at the decidedly un-urban University of California-Davis. Once out in the free world as a college student, he met other burgeoning hip-hop artists through his college radio station, including Bay-Area rappers Blackalicious and Lyrics Born, and eventually Shadow/Davis created his own label, Solesides, through which he began releasing his original tracks and mixtapes. These tracks included a pressing of a 17-minute “hip-hop symphony” entitled “Entropy,” which spread rapidly throughout the hip-hop underground until it reached the ears of Mo’Wax Records in London. DJ Shadow found himself the recipient of enormous critical acclaim following the release of his first full-length album, Endtroducing…, released by Mo’Wax in 1996. The album comprises a series of sprawling, almost symphonic tracks, many of which are well over seven minutes in length and each pieced together from countless obscure samples and “found sounds,” a technique he continues to exploit with The Private Press. Indeed, Shadow’s audience rarely recognizes any of the samples used in his tracks. A rare decipherable sample from The Private Press, a surging scream by Robert Plant, lasts only a few seconds and mutates from a bass rumble to a treble fizzle. Historically, his tracks are melodically driven, despite featuring prominent beats, and he regularly shifts the pitch of his samples to match the mood and tone he’s searching for. The samples are sometimes so sonically mutated and transformed that even the originator of the sample might be hard pressed to identify his or her own contribution to a DJ Shadow song. Shadow frequently gives his tracks politically or socially charged titles, such as “What Does Your Soul Look Like” and “Midnight in a Perfect World” from Endtroducing…. These songs incorporate vocal samples from obscure movies, classic hip-hop, and even the civil rights movement to convey emotions and messages. In the song “Why Hip Hop Sucks in ’96,” the audience receives the titular answer simply with a singular vocal line as the song ends: “it’s the money!” Shadow may impart subliminal messages and commentary to listeners, but an underlying subtlety defines his music. His messages thrum underneath, awash in the seamless fusion of innumerable rare melodic and rhythmic gems. These snippets that began as inspirations for his music, from funk to rock to hip-hop to ambient to jazz to soul to garage sale record bins, end up becoming his music. DJ Shadow was renowned early in his career for spending entire afternoons in vintage record shops, leaving with shopping carts full of obscure records. From all of this toil, sometimes only a single snare sound might make it onto a single measure of a single track.
With “Monosylabik,” however, the patchwork-quilt concept driving his previous compositions does not quite apply: Instead of many unique patches of sound, one spoken vocal line and three seconds of one musical sample create the quilt.
The track begins with a vocal exclamation: “what you gon’ do now?” and is followed by two bars of down-tempo drums and bass in duple meter, topped off by an electronic sixteenth-note figure. Almost immediately, Shadow begins to toy with the texture: The snare is laced with reverb, and a gear-shifting sound begins to interrupt the established phrasing. An invigoration of the tempo, following the introduction of the track’s basic musical idea, ushers in the beginning of the song’s essential degradation (:56). A faster rhythm in the drums, particularly the snare and cymbals, created by the splintering of the individual sounds of those instruments in the sample, mark a further decomposition (1:05). By a minute and a half in, the bass line pitch-shifts to the tonic, and finally we hear a deviation in the “melody”. The vocals from the beginning of the track abruptly reappear in segmentation (1:45). Steadily but in a purposefully confusing pattern, the beat degrades into a faster rhythm with more frequent interruptions made by slices of the existing rhythm. The listener is slowly, maniacally barraged by an onslaught of mechanical-sounding samples. At 3:35 we hit what sounds potentially like a halfway point in the song. Treble pulsations lurch in a forward motion, sonically appearing and disappearing out of the ether, until the drums and bass break through again with a new theme at 5:25, replacing the original driving beat. At this point, the robotic sounds begin to fold and fall in on themselves, toppling in cascades of noise and giving the impression of an overheating, spluttering machine ready to explode. At this point, the cacophony demands release, and the listener very nearly craves it. But the explosive release the listener desires never arrives, and the piece melts progressively into a puddle of vocals, with the female voice shifting lower and lower, past the tonic and into nothingness.
While an impressive sonic experiment, the track does not necessarily lend itself well to analysis. While just as meticulously designed, Shadow’s composition lacks the formulaic explanation found in other looped and cut compositions like those of Steve Reich. Much of the time, despite knowing that all sounds within are derived from one source, it is hard to guess how a particular new sound originated. This may be a result of DJ Shadow’s live skills: In a concert setting, Shadow is known for cutting, mixing and blending samples on the fly, essentially willing new songs to exist out of the toys in his sandbox. It’s an improvisational style reminiscent of self-referencing jazz, and “Monosyllabik” could very well be informed by improvisation, which would mark a departure from the looped and cut compositions of Reich. Nonetheless, the idea of deconstruction is clearly conveyed. The scope of the piece is massive, and its intricate design makes up the deterioration of the original musical idea itself. It’s a concept that is as confusing as it is brilliant – a proof-of-concept that shows electronic samples bred in the hip-hop world being employed in similar fashion to modern composers like Reich. Every new sound introduced during the course of the track ushers in a development in the degradation of the primary sample. We can hear sections develop as new musical ideas unfold with more disjunct patterns and rhythms. It is the rhythm, ultimately, that drives and links the piece into a whole, serving as glue when the song threatens to fold in on itself in a wash of noise. The few places where the beat drops out feel like black holes sucking the sound inward. When the rhythm does finally die, the track begins to die, and the vocal line fizzles out lethargically and deliberately to the end.
Pointing out DJ Shadow’s achievement with “Monosyllabik” can be a challenge: Mash-ups are all the rage now, and it isn’t uncommon to find a blend of say, Jay-Z’s “The Black Album” with The Beatle’s “The White Album.” But Shadow beat everyone to the punch by pioneering this sound from way back in 1996, and his mastery of the cut and looped composition elevates him beyond the realm of pop music and stands him next to modern composers like Steve Reich. He progressed from a DJ who created vast compositions from bottomless collections of samples to creating a credible, fascinating and listenable sonic experiment from one vocal line and three seconds of music. If it were a literary achievement, one might liken DJ Shadow’s progression to going from composing a masterpiece out of pages from every book in the library, to composing a masterpiece from one line in a single book. It’s a vast, compelling leap that goes some distance to connect the wide space between modern composition and modern pop music.
Thanks to T.
by The Grizz
What happens when music is no longer played on conventional instruments? What becomes of the medium through which the music is conveyed? What happens when the recordings and technology used to capture instrumentation become the instrumentation? One can find answers to these questions in the advent of the DJ as musician and artist: While disc jockeys once simply changed records and pushed the play button, the modern DJ often employs records, samples, turntables, mixers, and computer programming in the composition of music. Some of what they create sounds wholly original, but it’s often cobbled from bits and pieces of other compositions. With the defining lines of what makes music “music” continually blurring, in the modern music world, we may find ourselves struggling to categorize half of what we hear. The front lines in the battle over this categorization play out in the ever-evolving genre of electronic music.
DJ Shadow (a.k.a. Josh Davis), a prominent figure in the world of instrumental hip-hop for over a decade, remains among the “turntablists”-turned-composers who have helped redefine the electronic music movement. Shadow’s compositional technique, until fairly recently, centered almost entirely on the construction of music through the looping, cutting, and rearranging of samples. Quite plainly, the samples and the turntable themselves serve as his primary instruments. He takes this methodology to the extreme with a track off his sophomore album, 2002’s The Private Press, called “Monosylabik.” The song took two months to complete and consists of one introductory 2-bar, 3-second phrase, looped, sliced, diced, rearranged, and pitch-shifted to create a nearly seven-minute study in deconstruction.
Credited as a key figure in the development of experimental, non-vocal oriented hip-hop, DJ Shadow began honing his mixing and mastering expertise as a high school student in Northern California in the late eighties. Influenced by hip-hop originators like Public Enemy, Eric B & Rakim, and Ultramagnetic MCs, he experimented on a four-track before leaving for college at the decidedly un-urban University of California-Davis. Once out in the free world as a college student, he met other burgeoning hip-hop artists through his college radio station, including Bay-Area rappers Blackalicious and Lyrics Born, and eventually Shadow/Davis created his own label, Solesides, through which he began releasing his original tracks and mixtapes. These tracks included a pressing of a 17-minute “hip-hop symphony” entitled “Entropy,” which spread rapidly throughout the hip-hop underground until it reached the ears of Mo’Wax Records in London. DJ Shadow found himself the recipient of enormous critical acclaim following the release of his first full-length album, Endtroducing…, released by Mo’Wax in 1996. The album comprises a series of sprawling, almost symphonic tracks, many of which are well over seven minutes in length and each pieced together from countless obscure samples and “found sounds,” a technique he continues to exploit with The Private Press. Indeed, Shadow’s audience rarely recognizes any of the samples used in his tracks. A rare decipherable sample from The Private Press, a surging scream by Robert Plant, lasts only a few seconds and mutates from a bass rumble to a treble fizzle. Historically, his tracks are melodically driven, despite featuring prominent beats, and he regularly shifts the pitch of his samples to match the mood and tone he’s searching for. The samples are sometimes so sonically mutated and transformed that even the originator of the sample might be hard pressed to identify his or her own contribution to a DJ Shadow song. Shadow frequently gives his tracks politically or socially charged titles, such as “What Does Your Soul Look Like” and “Midnight in a Perfect World” from Endtroducing…. These songs incorporate vocal samples from obscure movies, classic hip-hop, and even the civil rights movement to convey emotions and messages. In the song “Why Hip Hop Sucks in ’96,” the audience receives the titular answer simply with a singular vocal line as the song ends: “it’s the money!” Shadow may impart subliminal messages and commentary to listeners, but an underlying subtlety defines his music. His messages thrum underneath, awash in the seamless fusion of innumerable rare melodic and rhythmic gems. These snippets that began as inspirations for his music, from funk to rock to hip-hop to ambient to jazz to soul to garage sale record bins, end up becoming his music. DJ Shadow was renowned early in his career for spending entire afternoons in vintage record shops, leaving with shopping carts full of obscure records. From all of this toil, sometimes only a single snare sound might make it onto a single measure of a single track.
With “Monosylabik,” however, the patchwork-quilt concept driving his previous compositions does not quite apply: Instead of many unique patches of sound, one spoken vocal line and three seconds of one musical sample create the quilt.
The track begins with a vocal exclamation: “what you gon’ do now?” and is followed by two bars of down-tempo drums and bass in duple meter, topped off by an electronic sixteenth-note figure. Almost immediately, Shadow begins to toy with the texture: The snare is laced with reverb, and a gear-shifting sound begins to interrupt the established phrasing. An invigoration of the tempo, following the introduction of the track’s basic musical idea, ushers in the beginning of the song’s essential degradation (:56). A faster rhythm in the drums, particularly the snare and cymbals, created by the splintering of the individual sounds of those instruments in the sample, mark a further decomposition (1:05). By a minute and a half in, the bass line pitch-shifts to the tonic, and finally we hear a deviation in the “melody”. The vocals from the beginning of the track abruptly reappear in segmentation (1:45). Steadily but in a purposefully confusing pattern, the beat degrades into a faster rhythm with more frequent interruptions made by slices of the existing rhythm. The listener is slowly, maniacally barraged by an onslaught of mechanical-sounding samples. At 3:35 we hit what sounds potentially like a halfway point in the song. Treble pulsations lurch in a forward motion, sonically appearing and disappearing out of the ether, until the drums and bass break through again with a new theme at 5:25, replacing the original driving beat. At this point, the robotic sounds begin to fold and fall in on themselves, toppling in cascades of noise and giving the impression of an overheating, spluttering machine ready to explode. At this point, the cacophony demands release, and the listener very nearly craves it. But the explosive release the listener desires never arrives, and the piece melts progressively into a puddle of vocals, with the female voice shifting lower and lower, past the tonic and into nothingness.
While an impressive sonic experiment, the track does not necessarily lend itself well to analysis. While just as meticulously designed, Shadow’s composition lacks the formulaic explanation found in other looped and cut compositions like those of Steve Reich. Much of the time, despite knowing that all sounds within are derived from one source, it is hard to guess how a particular new sound originated. This may be a result of DJ Shadow’s live skills: In a concert setting, Shadow is known for cutting, mixing and blending samples on the fly, essentially willing new songs to exist out of the toys in his sandbox. It’s an improvisational style reminiscent of self-referencing jazz, and “Monosyllabik” could very well be informed by improvisation, which would mark a departure from the looped and cut compositions of Reich. Nonetheless, the idea of deconstruction is clearly conveyed. The scope of the piece is massive, and its intricate design makes up the deterioration of the original musical idea itself. It’s a concept that is as confusing as it is brilliant – a proof-of-concept that shows electronic samples bred in the hip-hop world being employed in similar fashion to modern composers like Reich. Every new sound introduced during the course of the track ushers in a development in the degradation of the primary sample. We can hear sections develop as new musical ideas unfold with more disjunct patterns and rhythms. It is the rhythm, ultimately, that drives and links the piece into a whole, serving as glue when the song threatens to fold in on itself in a wash of noise. The few places where the beat drops out feel like black holes sucking the sound inward. When the rhythm does finally die, the track begins to die, and the vocal line fizzles out lethargically and deliberately to the end.
Pointing out DJ Shadow’s achievement with “Monosyllabik” can be a challenge: Mash-ups are all the rage now, and it isn’t uncommon to find a blend of say, Jay-Z’s “The Black Album” with The Beatle’s “The White Album.” But Shadow beat everyone to the punch by pioneering this sound from way back in 1996, and his mastery of the cut and looped composition elevates him beyond the realm of pop music and stands him next to modern composers like Steve Reich. He progressed from a DJ who created vast compositions from bottomless collections of samples to creating a credible, fascinating and listenable sonic experiment from one vocal line and three seconds of music. If it were a literary achievement, one might liken DJ Shadow’s progression to going from composing a masterpiece out of pages from every book in the library, to composing a masterpiece from one line in a single book. It’s a vast, compelling leap that goes some distance to connect the wide space between modern composition and modern pop music.
Thanks to T.
Monday, December 17, 2007
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Kill me now.
I feel like shit.
It's raining and freezing again.
I'm almost finished. But not yet finished.
I have to figure out how to analyze and write at least five pages about a six-minute-plus DJ Shadow song that consists of one 2-bar, 3-second phrase that is looped, sliced and diced to sound like a robot.
It's my fault for picking that song.
All my friends live somewhere else.
But this is helping a little:
It's raining and freezing again.
I'm almost finished. But not yet finished.
I have to figure out how to analyze and write at least five pages about a six-minute-plus DJ Shadow song that consists of one 2-bar, 3-second phrase that is looped, sliced and diced to sound like a robot.
It's my fault for picking that song.
All my friends live somewhere else.
But this is helping a little:
Monday, December 10, 2007
Today
pop open a bottle of bubbly
yeah
here's to another goddamn new year
and outside 2 million drunk bostonians are getting ready to sing alde lang syne out of tune
i sit there and raise a cheer
lookin at the clouds, orange with celebration
i wonder if you're out there...
hey the ice of boston is muddy
and reflects no light in the day or night
and i slip on it every time
pop open the third bottle of bubbly
yeah and i take that bottle of champagne,
go into the kitchen,
stand in front of the kitchen window,
and i take all my clothes off
i take that bottle champagne and i pour in on my head
and i feel it cascade through my hair and across my chest
and the phone rings
and it's my mother
and she says "HI HONEY HOW'S BOSTON?!"
and i stand there all alone on new years eve
butt naked, drenched in champagne
lookin at a bunch of strangers
uh lookin at them
lookin at me
lookin at them and i say
"OH FINE MOM! HOW'S WASHINGTON?!"
hey the ice of boston is muddy
and reflects no light in the day or night
and i slip on it every time
hey the ice of boston is muddy
and reflects no light in the day or night
and i slip on it every time,
time
time
time
yeah
so i guess the party line is i followed you up here
but i dont know about that
mainly because knowing about that would involve
knowing about some pathetic, ridicouls, and absolutly true things about myself
that i'd rather not admit to right now
i woke up at 3 a.m. with the radio on
that Gladis night and the pips song on
about how she'd rather live in his world with him than live in her own world alone
and i laid there, head spinning, trying to fall asleep
and i thought to myself
"OH GLADYS GIRL I LOVE YOU BUT OH, GET A LIFE!"
hey the ice of boston is muddy
and reflects no light in the day or night
and i slip on it every time
hey the ice of boston is muddy
and reflects no light in the day or night
and i slip on it every time
time time time
time time time
time time time
time time time
Friday, November 30, 2007
My bro's new job
...is light years cooler than yours ever will be. I may have introduced some of you to his now-defunct silly-science blog "Frinktank" awhile back. Well, the rowdy men from the 'tank are back in action, and this time for a seriously legit outfit. Oh, you know, that old periodical about science. In America. Called Scientific American. That's right, foolz. Pretty sweet, huh? Check out his antics here.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Friday, November 16, 2007
Thursday, November 8, 2007
What I've been up to lately:
In addition to lamenting my existence, replacing the hard drive on my computer, and consequently not being able to hook back up to my ISP at home.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
This song will hold up for all eternity.
Which I guess is why Cadillac is using it for a commercial 12 years after its release. Saw this a few weeks ago. Rad.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Mini-reunion.
It's quite remarkable how people you love and trust can be living salves to the wounded and lonely heart. I <3 Jed and Ash.
Some dude was practicing jazz trumpet in his car at midnight.
Flash 9000!
Grizz in headlights.
The essence of our friendship.
Some dude was practicing jazz trumpet in his car at midnight.
Flash 9000!
Grizz in headlights.
The essence of our friendship.
QOTSA rocked my face (and pants) off.
I think I've made it sufficiently clear at this point that I am in love with Joshua M. Homme.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Stacey, meet enterthegrizz.blogpot.com.
Holy mother of all things heinous, this rules my face. As if playing three quarters of a step above the backing track (on a trumpet!!!) weren't enough, we also get heel-clicks and box steps. Horrifying entertainment, thy name is pageantry.
Monday, October 8, 2007
I win.
It's just after five p.m. and I'm wearing glasses and the clothes I slept in last night. I only brushed my teeth an hour ago. I rule.
It's been quiet around here lately. That's because it hasn't been so quiet in my tangible world lately. Apologies and an attempt to remedy the sitch shortly.
It's been quiet around here lately. That's because it hasn't been so quiet in my tangible world lately. Apologies and an attempt to remedy the sitch shortly.
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
I love her. And I hate her. But this is badass.
In honor of her D-town show tonight, which I am sorely missing:
Monday, September 17, 2007
Friday, September 14, 2007
Mindfreak.
Seeing the words "Mastodon" and "VMAs" in the same sentence is almost as bizarre as seeing Pavarotti and Lou Reed on the same stage. Thanks, Mr. Grohl.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Yes, J.Neil...
I realize I've been a bit soft lately, but let me assure you that I also share the below sentiment. And, indeed, I love Gordon Freeman.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Monday, September 10, 2007
Friday, September 7, 2007
Thursday, September 6, 2007
I think he looks a little like a cross between the bad guy in Popeye and Jack Nicholson as the Joker in this photo. But then, I'm also a crazy person.
In slightly related news: this. I do know a lot of drugged up singers. You'd be surprised. The beta blockers thing weirds this Grizz out. And frankly, unless your voice is like the aural manifestation of Nicolas Cage as Johnny Blaze's head transforming into a fiery inferno of awesome and your performance anxiety is impeding that glory, maybe you should consider another career. You gots ta harness that shizz and make it part of the performance. Three deep breaths, a swig of water, and a quick harness of the chi, dudes. But really, what do I know. I am but a wee babe in the land of classical singing.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
I am not alone.
Finally, someone understands.
http://advancedtheory.blogspot.com/2007/08/super-nic-cage-karate-monkey.html
On a completely unrelated note, I have spent most of the last 15 hours crying. My beloved (known) readers from afar, I miss you. CZ, President of BS, of course jneil and tedster, thanks for being totally freaking awesome, pretty much all the time.
http://advancedtheory.blogspot
On a completely unrelated note, I have spent most of the last 15 hours crying. My beloved (known) readers from afar, I miss you. CZ, President of BS, of course jneil and tedster, thanks for being totally freaking awesome, pretty much all the time.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
August: Madness in the 'rado
I don't really have an explanation for this. I am, however, wearing the sweetest hat EVER.
My boyfriend's in the stripes.
My other boyfriend.
A rare moment of non-harmful contact between sibs. What you don't see is Jeff semi-torturing the poor feline.
A wine-soaked famiglia by the lake.
Jeff is eating a flower. Yes, a flower.
Learning how to keep the bears away. With a Mossberg 12-gauge. I swear, this doesn't make me a Republican. I just need to defend m'land, man.
The second-best hat ever. And some bacon bits. I have decided that bacon may be the best food ever. (Let's just live in the land of superlatives, shall we? )
The Giant Pillow Fall.
The Giant Pillow Fall when possessed by Satan.
Gut-punch. Always satisfying.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Aha.
- Skip ahead to 6:15.
- I hate "Demolition Man," but I dig Stewart's aviators, big time.
- I love Andy Summers.
- Synth- minus a keyboard synthesizer. Yes.
- I love chorus and reverb. A lot.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
I'm moving.
In less than a week. Ask me if I'm prepared. You and I both know the answer. DAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
"Walk Hard"
Years of playing sad saps, cops and clowns seems to have finally paid off for John C. Reilly. Check out the cameos. Paul Rudd as John Lennon, Jack White as Elvis and Lyle Lovett as... himself if he had been around in the 60s? Lyyyyyleeee..... I love you.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
YES.
You don't need to tell me that I'm an enormous dork. You do need to tell yourself, however, that this looks ridiculously awesome.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Happy 2-8...
... to this other fool. You're getting old. But acting younger every day - ha! I guess it all evens out, eh? Looking forward to ribs and getting mauled by your cat at the festivities. Here's to your 29th year. And congrats on Rainier. Word.
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Someone who won't be forgotten.
Potentially one of the most talented living individuals on this planet is here in this country, driving westward through the I-70 corridor of Colorado towards Utah right at this very moment. Annie Clark (aka St. Vincent) is the kind of person who makes me feel at first that I have accomplished virtually nothing in my (seemingly) short 25 years. (Just looking at her pedal board makes me feel tiny.) This, of course, is horribly disconcerting at first because no one wants to feel worthless or talentless, but the feeling quickly and unexpectedly fades when you have the opportunity to be in the same room with her. Any whispers of insecurity evaporate as soon as she straps on the axe and opens her mouth. There's no room for yourself any longer; the aural space in your head is filled with the overwhelming, glorious sounds she is creating.
I had the good fortune of seeing her several months ago opening for Midlake. At the time, her debut album had not yet been released, and she was supporting her musical ideas solo-- just her small self, a guitar, a microphone, copperphone, keyboard, and an extremely complicated-looking pedal setup. When this wispy pixie in Aunt Ethel's dress and Clark Kent's glasses walked onstage, we all thought, "what the hell is this/oh great/where's Midlake". It took about two seconds of her finger-picking her hollow-body and crooning into the mic for our jaws to hit the floor. Alone on stage, she has a command that is unstoppable and completely spellbinding. So when I heard that she was going out on tour with a band to back her up in support of the album "Marry Me" (which, btw, got an 8 from Pitchfork--hey-oh!), I was a little worried that the magic would be lost. This was also after hearing the completed album, which, while still quite good, does not have quite the impact of her live performance. Well, I saw her last night, well-rehearsed band in tow, and Jesus H, man. She still slays. While I'll always list her solo show as one of the best axe-wielding performances I've ever seen in my life, I can say that last night's show was incredible. It was extremely cool to see her music come to full fruition; songs that didn't quite work solo are generously filled out. And the songs that seem to be almost-not-quite missing something on the record were highlights of the show. The seamless transition from a roiling "All My Stars Aligned" into a much slinkier (but somehow weightier) "Landmines" was particularly staggering to experience. "Paris Is Burning", perhaps one of her musical babies that doesn't quite seem to translate solo or on record, was completely rocking in a psycho-Tim Burton-Carnavale way.
All this, and Annie manages to be just as charming in conversation as behind the mic and guitar, but not so much as to seem inhuman. Once you get past the Sammy Davis shoes and bag-dress, she's a normal genius, completely unaffected, facing the same irritating challenges of searching for apartments on Craigslist that I have recently suffered and in great need of a vacation (which isn't happening any time soon). And she remembers you. A gem of a chick. Let's be friends, Annie.
So what I'm saying is, hop on Amazon, buy yourself a copy of "Marry Me", then go to myspace.com/stvincent, find your city and get your ass to the show. You won't be sorry, you'll thank me later, and you'll fall just as hard for her as I have. Oh yeah, and everyone at Pitchfork and Gorilla vs. Bear. (By the by, she mentioned there are even more dates coming after those with The National, so keep your eyes peeled if you aren't lucky enough to see her this stretch.)
A few blurry pics from the show:
I had the good fortune of seeing her several months ago opening for Midlake. At the time, her debut album had not yet been released, and she was supporting her musical ideas solo-- just her small self, a guitar, a microphone, copperphone, keyboard, and an extremely complicated-looking pedal setup. When this wispy pixie in Aunt Ethel's dress and Clark Kent's glasses walked onstage, we all thought, "what the hell is this/oh great/where's Midlake". It took about two seconds of her finger-picking her hollow-body and crooning into the mic for our jaws to hit the floor. Alone on stage, she has a command that is unstoppable and completely spellbinding. So when I heard that she was going out on tour with a band to back her up in support of the album "Marry Me" (which, btw, got an 8 from Pitchfork--hey-oh!), I was a little worried that the magic would be lost. This was also after hearing the completed album, which, while still quite good, does not have quite the impact of her live performance. Well, I saw her last night, well-rehearsed band in tow, and Jesus H, man. She still slays. While I'll always list her solo show as one of the best axe-wielding performances I've ever seen in my life, I can say that last night's show was incredible. It was extremely cool to see her music come to full fruition; songs that didn't quite work solo are generously filled out. And the songs that seem to be almost-not-quite missing something on the record were highlights of the show. The seamless transition from a roiling "All My Stars Aligned" into a much slinkier (but somehow weightier) "Landmines" was particularly staggering to experience. "Paris Is Burning", perhaps one of her musical babies that doesn't quite seem to translate solo or on record, was completely rocking in a psycho-Tim Burton-Carnavale way.
All this, and Annie manages to be just as charming in conversation as behind the mic and guitar, but not so much as to seem inhuman. Once you get past the Sammy Davis shoes and bag-dress, she's a normal genius, completely unaffected, facing the same irritating challenges of searching for apartments on Craigslist that I have recently suffered and in great need of a vacation (which isn't happening any time soon). And she remembers you. A gem of a chick. Let's be friends, Annie.
So what I'm saying is, hop on Amazon, buy yourself a copy of "Marry Me", then go to myspace.com/stvincent, find your city and get your ass to the show. You won't be sorry, you'll thank me later, and you'll fall just as hard for her as I have. Oh yeah, and everyone at Pitchfork and Gorilla vs. Bear. (By the by, she mentioned there are even more dates coming after those with The National, so keep your eyes peeled if you aren't lucky enough to see her this stretch.)
A few blurry pics from the show:
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
I knew it!
Bear Grylls is an enormous asshole. And now we have proof. All hail Survivorman!
http://thegoat.backcountry.com/blog/2007/07/25/man-vs-wild-faked/
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20070724/tv_nm/discovery_dc;_ylt=Ao8NwOa9WdGDEiDzrIwpWmMRr7sF
http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch/2007/07/man-vs-wild-all.html
http://thegoat.backcountry.com
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm
http://popwatch.ew.com/popwatch
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Ha!
Tidying up my room a few moments ago, I stumbled upon my birthday card from mi hermano mejor (that translation has always bothered me: "better brother"? whatev, you ain't betta than me, foo'!). Truly, Ted, you are gifted with creating wordy flourishes that just mean, " you're a douche, but we love you anyway". An excerpt:
"... 25 is the age when you start looking down on stupid kids, which you've been doing your whole life, I guess. In fact, dispositionally you're probably closer to 65.... In the meantime, just know that your inflated sense of self-superiority just got some real-world cred. Happy B-day, Grizz."
Touché, my brother. The best part is that I actually agree with all that.
"... 25 is the age when you start looking down on stupid kids, which you've been doing your whole life, I guess. In fact, dispositionally you're probably closer to 65.... In the meantime, just know that your inflated sense of self-superiority just got some real-world cred. Happy B-day, Grizz."
Touché, my brother. The best part is that I actually agree with all that.
Oh, Roland.
I'm not sure what to look at: Roland's exceptional moves or Curt's many-braided rattail. Ach, choices.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Will it blend?
Taking you and your fancy shmancy devices out of the intangible world and throwing you back into the physical. With a blender.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Wow. Just... wow.
Sweet Crom above, if this chick can have a career, so can I. I mean... whoa. I'm really thinking there were pills involved in this, but the evil 60% of me wishes there weren't. Three cheers for the tenor for showing us what true commitment looks like. Thanks to Alicia for this inbelievable find.
Slowly catching up to my real age, which is 50.
On June 29, I hit the halfway mark and celebrated in high style at Piney Lake with family, old friends, new friends, a dog, DEET, and many evil mosquitos. Thanks to all in attendance. It couldn't have been nearly as raucous without you. (Pics courtesy of the incomparable Emily Dunn.)
The toast.
Revelers.
The birthday swig.
I don't usually smile like that.
Legs.
T and me.
FIRE!
Dickless, doing what he does best.
The other thing Dickless does best, almost injuring himself horribly.
The whole shebang.
Again, a very unusual smile, but I was probably looking at Jeff right beforehand. Also, Matt is way too cool for school.
Drunk. Also, Charlie's t-shirt has Gandalf on it. This is an awesome thing.
La familia, plus the Turncrantz.
The organizers. Jeff's not making a poopy face. Amazing!
The toast, round 2.
The toast.
Revelers.
The birthday swig.
I don't usually smile like that.
Legs.
T and me.
FIRE!
Dickless, doing what he does best.
The other thing Dickless does best, almost injuring himself horribly.
The whole shebang.
Again, a very unusual smile, but I was probably looking at Jeff right beforehand. Also, Matt is way too cool for school.
Drunk. Also, Charlie's t-shirt has Gandalf on it. This is an awesome thing.
La familia, plus the Turncrantz.
The organizers. Jeff's not making a poopy face. Amazing!
The toast, round 2.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
