McSweeney's #13

Last week, Leah and I were rambling around Barnes & Noble - as we often do - when I noticed among the graphic novels and comic books something I'd almost purchased online the week before - McSweeney's Quarterly Concern Issue Number 13. With slyness and surprising speed (for a book) #13 found it's way into my hand and decided its days upon bookstore shelves were through.

Edited by graphic novelist and artist Chris Ware, #13 is a beautifully illustrated book that describes itself using the following words and numbers:

An assorted sampler of North American comic drawings, strips, and illustrated stories, &c. by many of the most dignified and skilled practitioners of the cartooning art, presented on over 250 lithographic plates and in approximately 3,732 individual pictures.

Containing the artwork, comics and writing of people like Chris Ware, Seth, Joe Matt and John Updike, the book offers a varied and amazing collection of art and letters. Even the dustcover unfolds into a double-sided poster, filled with drawings and information about the contributors.

The only unfortunate thing about #13, is that it made me buy #19, and now I have to buy 1-12, 14-18 and 20. Damn OCD.

...and for all you music lovers out there, The Believer 2006 Music Issue (also published by McSweeney’s) is out and worth its ten dollar price tag.

The Curious Incident

When a college friend of mine was here two weekends ago, we had a long conversation about our recently-loved book list. As a result, I loaned her my copy of The Time Traveler’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger, and she told me to read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon.

Since I trust her judgment, and since we already owned it, I picked up Haddon’s debut novel the following evening and started to read. Moments later, I threw the book back onto the table, disgusted, and fussed at my friend – How do you expect me to read a book in which a dog is brutally stabbed and killed on the first page? Have you not met my two dogs?

She laughed at my dramatic outburst and told me to keep reading – it would all make sense. So I kept reading and soon found myself entangled in the intriguing life of an autistic teenage boy.

I spent a college summer as a teacher’s aide at a day-camp for developmentally handicapped children, many of whom were autistic. It was easily the most difficult and rewarding job I’ve ever held. Haddon also spent time (a good deal more than me) working with autistic children, and his knowledge and insight into the behaviors that mark that condition are impressive. Several times, I caught myself thinking, “That’s why that boy used to do that,” and I felt like I knew more about autism after reading this novel. I think Haddon was on-target and intuitive in his creation of Christopher Boone, the autistic protagonist.

Christopher is a fifteen year old who is influenced by the world in ways decidedly different than you or me. For example, he decides daily if it will be a good or bad day by using a simple formula – if he sees a yellow car on the way to school, it is a Bad Day, while three red cars in a row make it a Quite Good Day. A highly functional autistic savant, skilled in math and physics, he begins honing his creative side while writing a book that documents his investigation into the brutal slaying of his neighbor’s pet poodle.

The investigation, for Christopher, dredges up hidden family secrets that change his life in dramatic ways. He’s often reduced to silent hysteria by outside stimuli, and I felt oddly voyeuristic when reading his innermost thoughts. Was I invading his privacy? Regardless, I had little time to worry about that – the plot moves quickly and engagingly, making this both a fast and richly layered read.

Mark Haddon also has a very cool web site, filled with art and interesting information. He is a prolific children’s book author and has won plenty of awards – mostly for The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time. Film rights have already been sold to Warner Brothers, and now I have to hope that the movie will do the novel justice. It’s a great novel, so the film’s got some big shoes (dust jackets? DVD covers?) to fill.

Phriday with Phish, Part One

During college, Phish was part of my everyday life. The band’s music was played at parties, in dorm rooms and at bars, and, oftentimes, as I stumbled homeward across the beautiful Chapel Hill campus in the wee hours of the night, Phish tunes were bouncing around in my head.

Looking back, I’m not sure how I missed out on attending a Phish show, but it’s a regrettable fact. Because of my failure as a Phish Head, I was very happy when the Phish Live in Brooklyn DVD was released a few weeks ago. Clocking in at almost four hours, the DVD has plenty of Phish to offer, and because of its length, I’ll be reviewing it in two parts.

---

At Keyspan Park on Coney Island, with Ferris wheels and roller coasters as a backdrop, beach balls bouncing around in the crowd and wafts of smoke occasionally floating up from the revelers, Phish takes the stage at dusk and opens with A Song I Heard the Ocean Sing. It doesn’t take long for the band to warm up, as Trey Anastasio plays his first solo and Jon Fishman, wearing his patented polka-dot dress, hammers away on the drums.

During the second song, the discordant Dinner and a Movie, Page McConnell’s fingers start becoming limber as he aggressively plays one of his many keyboards. As the sun goes down, the stage lights shine, and the first extended jam of the evening occurs in The Curtain With. Anastasio, looking like a red-headed Eric Clapton, plays as if he’s in a trance, with mouth agape, eyes looking towards the sky and fingers dancing across the frets and strings of his guitar.

On the next track, Sample in a Jar, the band’s sound tightens up into classic rock-n-roll, and the camera zooms in on a bikini-clad girl, dancing with abandon. Which allows me to segue nicely into Moma Dance, a song that opens with heavy bass and truckloads of funk. The moment ends, the moment ends, but Phish plays on, transitioning into the crowd-pleaser, Free, another track on which Mike Gordon’s bass is prominently featured. Gordon’s solo is what I call ‘wonky funk’ – something that simultaneously fires all the music-loving synapses of the brain. And the funk gets even wonkier in Nothing, when Anastasio and Gordon play an extended guitar/bass duet, my favorite part of the first set.

Then the sun sets, rain starts falling and dancing umbrellas bounce through the crowd, bopping up and down to the staccato rhythms of Maze, with bright stage lights reflecting off the tight, wet nylon.

The set closed with the creepy Frankenstein, a Jon Fishman drum solo, and a bunch of excited, wet fans screaming out for more.

Fear in Auschwitz

Last week, CNN ran a story that caught my attention: Poland has officially changed the name of the most notorious Nazi death camp from “Auschwitz Concentration Camp” to “the Former Nazi German Concentration Camp of Auschwitz.” This was done in an effort by the Polish people to distance themselves from a place where approximately 1.5 million people (mostly Jews, but also gays, blacks, gypsies, and many other Nazi “enemies”) were murdered via gas chambers, torture, starvation, and conditions so inhuman that even the survivors were skeletal remnants of their former selves. Anne Frank’s father, Otto, barely survived the atrocities at Auschwitz. Elie Wiesel, author of Night, survived Auschwitz, but witnessed the deterioration and death of his own father during his time there.

I didn’t get a tongue-in-cheek feel from the article on CNN, but I practically snorted with disbelief as I read it. Anyone who has studied the Holocaust or read an interview with a Polish Holocaust survivor, can tell you that Polish anti-Semitism both before and after World War II was tremendous and damaging. To be fair, lots of Poles did their best to save their neighbors during the Holocaust, but far more did nothing, and far more still stood and cheered when Hitler took over their country and began exterminating Jews as though they were nothing more than cockroaches.

At the time I read this article, I considered writing a post about the Polish atrocities, but since I didn’t have time to properly research the topic, I let it slide. I didn’t want to write a post about history without citing hard facts. But as it turns out, someone else wrote more than a post - they wrote a book.

This past Sunday, the New York Times Book Review published a review of a new account and a new perspective on the Holocaust – that of Polish anti-Semitism before, during and even after the war. After? Yes. It seems that there were a number of Polish pograms (organized acts of violence against Jews) that occurred after the death camps were liberated and the Jews were set free. Many Jews who returned to Poland after the war were either killed or forced to leave again. Many wound up in the United States – even more wound up in Israel. These are the forefathers of the people now so entrenched in fighting against Lebanon and Palestine.

The book is called Fear, and is written by Jan T. Gross. While the reviewer is slightly critical of Gross’s theories about the causes of these atrocities, he is supportive of the effort to unearth them. He mentions the “appalling, arresting images” throughout the book, and while I know they will give me nightmares, I need to read it, in order to fully understand what happened.

I don’t hold the anti-Semitic violence of the 30s, 40s and even the 50s against present-day Poles, any more than I hold it against present-day Germans. This occurred long before I was born, and I can only hope that circumstances never get repeated. Perhaps that is why I study the Holocaust so much – I’m a firm believer in the old adage that those who don’t learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. And renaming a concentration camp does not change history; it only attempts to hide it. A rose by any other name...

Related Post:
Ernest Michel, Auschwitz Survivor # 104995

Tuesday at the Music Store

A lot of interesting albums are releasing today, including records from Tom Petty, Gran Bel Fisher and Midlake. The most anticipated album of the bunch, however, is Putting the Days to Bed by The Long Winters. I reviewed this record last month and interviewed John Roderick as well. The album is great, and Roderick, as always, was articulate and full of wit:

I'm sure it can be odd (or perhaps surreal) reading reviews or articles about your work. That said, if you'd like to correct, expound upon or comment on anything in my post about your album, please do.

I think that's very generous for you to offer. Most musicians are timid about posting responses to online reviews for obvious reasons. No one wants to get into a flame war with a writer over his/her review. But wouldn't it be great if people really did respond to reviews of their stuff? Like: "What? Are you crazy? I don't sound anything like Adam Duritz of the Counting Crows!! Why do people keep saying this?!"

For a complete list of today's new releases, visit Largehearted Boy.

Downloads:
The Long Winters | Pushover [MP3]
The Long Winters | More MP3s

Full Moon Cigarette

Tomorrow, Hollywood Records will release Full Moon Cigarette by Gran Bel Fisher, a 24-year old hailing from rural Ohio. Recorded in California’s Sunset Sound, the album opens with melodic piano, reminiscent of a George Winston record, and then ascends into the nicely layered title track, Full Moon Cigarrete.

Reminding me a little of Oasis, Gran Bel Fisher’s music is beautifully structured and somehow grand. The second track, Far Cry, opens with acoustic guitar and slowly ascends to the point of crescendo, where it goes quiet instead and begins the building process a second time.

GBF mixes relaxed, melodic tunes like Edible and Crash and Burn with faster, rockier songs like Moment. Comfortably crooning or belting it out, Fisher’s vocals are spot on and surrounded by extremely tight instrumentation. Fisher has musical chops well past his years, and Full Moon Cigarette puts them on full display. Rural Ohio did very well.



Downloads:
Gran Bel Fisher | Edible [MP3]
Gran Bel Fisher | Crash and Burn [MP3]

Sunday Morning Roundup

It's Sunday morning and time for rounding up and whatnot, and I'm going to start with a Paul Giamatti interview where he talks a bit about Rob Zombie's next film.

I recorded this thing called The Haunted World of El Superbeasto. It's basically this really dirty cartoon, a lot of sex and drugs and violence. Which is good. I think we need a cartoon like that, like those '70s cartoons like Fritz the Cat. I play this guy named Dr. Satan who's trying to take over the world and may be gay or something.

Bassist Wanted posted a great strip about iPods and A.D.D.

Indie Interviews discusses lyrics with John Roderick of The Long Winters.

It's a lyric about the small-scale, almost charming, tendency we all have toward self-destruction. If we weren't humans, if we were able to judge like computers or Vulcans, the only logical criteria for a BOAT would be that it floats without leaking. How it looks couldn't be less relevant to how it functions. Our humanity is revealed by our love for lost causes, for three-legged dogs and rusted-out "classic" cars, and there's something pathetic about us for that reason.

Cable & Tweed posted an NPR Grace Potter show.

Morning Become Eclectic posted their Camera Obscura set.

All Songs Considered has the Drive-By Truckers.

rbally posted a Sleater-Kinney show and wrote a little about the band.

Anyway, listening to this performance yesterday afternoon I realized how much I am going to miss this band. Seriously, in a year with few new albums or bands that have caught my attention, I realize how fortunate I've been to listen to a band that was consistently great. And thankfully the end came with SK leaving at the peak of their creative powers, and we did not have to witness the band fade into mediocrity because they tried to force the issue.

Flashback Friday: Rabbit Reborn

Since I've been reading and listening to a lot of John Updike lately, I thought I'd pass along a review of Licks of Love that I originally wrote for the Charleston City Paper.

John Updike continues an ongoing exploration of family and infidelity in his collection of short fiction, Licks of Love. Updike resurrects old themes, old times, and his favorite Pennsylvanian everyman, Rabbit Angstrom, in a book containing one novella about Rabbit’s family and twelve short stories about cheating spouses, fathers and sons, mothers and cats, Henry Bech, and banjo licks.

The best of the twelve tales, Metamorphosis, involves an infatuated man, an attractive Asian surgeon, and the removal of a facial carcinoma. The smitten patient, Anderson, feeds his fixation of Dr. Kim by having encore reconstructive procedures – unnecessary surgeries performed by a medicinal geisha unaware of her lustful objectification. Updike rewards Anderson’s vainglorious ruse with an ironic twist of fate; Anderson is not transformed into a gigantic insect, but Kafka would almost certainly approve of the transformation.

In New York Girl, Updike moves from the operating room to the bedroom, where a two-timing husband finds warm solace in a city known for cold anonymity. The adulterer is enraptured the morning after an extramarital escapade, and Updike flawlessly depicts his immoral bliss:

…I was joyful to the point of tears. My body, wrapped in a loose wool bathrobe of hers, felt stuffed with the spiritual woolliness of contentment. At my back, just off the kitchen, she was setting up our breakfast. Paraboloids of orange juice and a cylinder of marmalade glowed with inner light…The morning moment kept overflowing, on and on…

Infidelity has appeared repeatedly in Updike’s writing and is a central theme in Licks of Love in the Heart of the Cold War - a short story that sums up Updike’s fascination with adultery:

You can go to the dark side of the moon and back and see nothing more wonderful and strange than the way men and women manage to get together.

And getting together is found at the heart of Licks of Love. In Rabbit Remembered, the fifth decadal installment of Updike’s Rabbit series, Rabbit’s two children meet knowingly for the first time. Nelson Angstrom finally gets to know his half sister, Annabelle Byer, who was conceived illegitimately when Rabbit first ran back in 1960.

Since the times of Rabbit at Rest Nelson has kicked cocaine and is now clean, sober, and alone. Annabelle enters his life at a time when he needs someone to pry him loose from his mother’s home and his father’s shadow. Nelson counsels others as a social worker and needs someone to counsel him in turn; he understands what a massive feat of neuron coordination just getting through the dullest day involves, and Annabelle is there to help him through the hours.

The siblings get to know each other through a series of lunches and dinners, and their conversation often leads to Rabbit.

When Nelson tries to think back to what it was like growing up he keeps getting a picture of his father and him in the front seat of a car, both of them having nothing to say but the silence comfortable, the shared motion satisfying.

His father had been a rebel of a sort, and a daredevil, but as he got older and tame he radiated happiness at just the simplest American things, driving along in an automobile, the radio giving off music, the heater giving off heat, delivering his son somewhere in this urban area that he knew block by block, intersection by intersection.

Nelson wants to give [Annabelle] her father, his father, but when he holds out his hands the dust pours through them, too fine and dry and dead to hold. Time has turned the spectacular man to powder, in just ten years.

Even though Rabbit may be turning to dust, Rabbit Remembered turns the award-winning Rabbit tetralogy into an even stronger quintology. Since 1960, Rabbit and his family have returned faithfully every ten years. The head of the household may be gone, but the perfection of his story continues - as does the perfection of Updike’s prose.

Download:
Edward Champion | John Updike Interview [MP3]

Clouds of People

Hailing from Wilmington, Delaware, The Sky Drops is comprised of Rob Montejo and Monika Bullette, and when you hear their music, it's hard to believe there's only two of them. On their web site, their music is described as a moody sonic maelstrom, and the description hits the nail on the head. I used these same two sentences a couple months ago, but they still hold true today, and now that the band’s EP, Clouds of People, has been released, I’ve had the opportunity to hear more of their maelstrom.

Comprised of five tracks, the EP gives a great impression of what Rob and Monika can do. Now Would Be, the second song on the record is one of my favorites; it opens with heavy guitar, quiets down a bit for the vocals, and livens back up for the chorus. With sleepy, dreamy vocals riding over guttural instrumentation, the song has an interesting dichotomy that's uniquely layered. In theory, you'd think the sounds would be at odds with one another, but, in actuality, you'd be wrong. The track meshes beautifully; as does the rest of the EP.



You can purchase their EP here and check out their MySpace page here.

Downloads:
The Sky Drops | Now Would Be [MP3]
The Sky Drops | Green to Red [MP3]

Tuesday's Sunday Morning Roundup

Since Tuesday at the music store is somewhat uninsteresting today, I postponed the Sunday Morning Roundup to now...

An Aquarium Drunkard posted his 11th podcast, which includes tracks from Bob Dylan, The White Stripes, Wilco and The Rolling Stones.

Edward Champion posted a great hour-long interview with John Updike.

Watch Thom Yorke play The Clock on The Henry Rollins Show.

Hero Hill posted the best albums of 2006 (so far), which includes two of my favorites.

rbally posted a great piece about Wilco, regarding the last days of Jay Bennett.

Morning Becomes eclectic has Smoosh and The Submarines.

Conner's Graphic Missile

If you had a glass into which you poured some 80’s new wave sound, a bit of The Strokes, an oddly UK-sounding lilt originating in Kansas and just a few dashes of the Kings of Leon mumbles, you’d have a close approximation of Conner and their album, Hello Graphic Missile (Sonic Boom Recordings).

James Duft, Tom Wagner, Bryce Boley and Phil Bonahoom create a throwback sound that doesn’t sound dated or cliché. Their songs are well-constructed and catchy but not the type of catchy that annoys. On their new album, the fourth track, Floating on Error, ascends into a sonic maelstrom with ridiculous drums and raucous guitar, and their song Enough For You and Me opens with a Rolling Stones feel and then settles into a relaxed, laidback groove.

With great vocals and awesome guitar solos throughout, Conner successfully makes the sounds that a lot of other bands attempt to create. Some would compare Conner to bands like The Killers, but I think Conner has a truer sound that isn’t an obvious grab at commercialism.

In short, I dig it.

Stream:
Conner | Silent Film Score
Conner | Cold Feelings

The Takers

It’s well known among my friends and family that I still love children’s books. Harry Potter is my hero, and I will still pick up The Secret Garden from time to time.

I also love action, suspense and horror novels.

Therefore, when a friend of mine asked me to read her husband’s book, which encompassed all of the above, I jumped at the opportunity.

The result was an interesting experience which you need to live to believe. The Takers, by R.W. Ridley, combines toned-down Stephen King, The Neverending Story and The Twilight Zone in a book I think young adults will love.

Its main character, Oz, is a thirteen year old boy thrust into the role of warrior when horrific creatures take over the world. He embarks on a quest to protect a baby from destruction, and makes friends along the way with some children, an old mechanic, and even a gorilla. At times while reading, I scratched my head and wrinkled my nose at some really bizarre twists, but any confusion was neatly resolved by the end in a refreshing and clever way. Plus, the way to a sequel (or even a series) is left wide-open in the last few lines of the novel.

I look forward to finding out what happens to Oz and his friends in the future.

Flashback Friday: Lyle Lovett

When I used to think of Lyle Lovett, I just thought of him as the weird-haired fella who married Julia Roberts. And then in 2003 I read Homeboy - a wonderful article written by Alec Wilkinson. The description of Lovett is so interesting and endearing, it prompted to me buy one of his albums, and I've been buying them ever since.

Mixing country, gospel and big band music, Lovett creates a genre in which only he resides. And this is evident on his 1996 album, The Road to Ensenada. Lovett opens the record with the humorous song, Don't Touch My Hat, closes the record with the beautiful, hidden track, The Girl in the Corner, and places between them track after track of great songwriting. With humor, sadness and longing, Lovett writes songs that are genuine, full of wit and refreshingly original.

So now when I think of Lyle Lovett, I think of a great songwriter with a stoic demeanor and a big heart, who just happens to be a weird-haired fella.

The Girl in the Corner

I said howdy there lady
This sure is some party
I’ve never seen anything
Like this before
She said howdy there honey
It’s just barely started
If you think this is something
Just stand here some more

Then she looked at me
Then she laughed at me
Then she lifted her glass to me
And the rest they say is history

I said that girl in the corner
She looks so pretty
Oh the girls all around her
She makes ’em look plain
Lady I need a drink
Can I bring you another
I’m hoping these bubbles
They might know her name

Well she looked at me
Then she laughed at me
Then she handed her glass to me
And the rest they say is history

But when I returned
Champagne in my hands
There stood two strangers
Where we both did stand
And the lady was gone
And the evening wore on
And the girl in the corner
Was never alone

But she looked at me
Then she smiled at me
Then she turned her eyes away from me
And the rest they say is history

Tim he was tall
And susan was smart
And francis she looked
Like a fine work of art
Melissa was sad
But that made her sweet
And dan and elaine
Had the world at their feet

Debra had pliny
Lisa had tony
And the girl in the corner
She could’ve had anybody
Richard was cool
And tubb he was funny
And the tarot card lady
She had everyone’s money

So I said my goodbyes
When it came time to leave
And as I walked out
Someone pulled at my sleeve
She said honey we never did officially meet
But I sure am happy you came

She said that girl in the corner
She’s more than pretty
And man you’re not the first
To look over her way
But if you still wanted
I could introduce you
But you never will be the same

Then she looked at me
Then she laughed at me
Then she extended her hand to me
And the rest they say is histroy

On Negative Reviews and Turkish Rap

A good friend of mine told me yesterday that I should post a negative review or two on the site, to show that I’m not a record label lackey. He has a good point, because I don’t want to give the impression of lackeydom.

So, I want to take a few minutes to explain why we don’t post negative reviews (or at least, not very many).

Leah and I run this site because we love the arts. Music, books, movies, plays, essays – you name the genre, we enjoy it (except for opera and Turkish rap). And we want to draw attention to the artists we enjoy and not criticize the ones we don’t. If an established artist puts out a sub-par release, we may say something, but we mostly write about independent artists trying to get on their feet, and we’re not going to knock an up-and-comer. If I get a CD in the mail that I don’t like, I just file it away and move on to something else.

In short, we’re fans and collectors (well, I’m the collector) who like to pass along information about the artists we enjoy. We’re not Lester Bangs wannabes out to shock and awe, and we’re not too-cool-for-school music snobs that lambaste everything in sight. There are plenty of sites that nitpick musicians and authors, so we’ll let them do their thing, and we’ll keep doing ours.

That said, I’ve posted a couple of new, interesting tracks below that I hope you’ll enjoy. If not, that’s okay too.

Downloads:
Early Day Miners | Return of the Native [MP3]
Ani Difranco | 78% H2O [MP3]

Non Sequitur: I picked up the new Camera Obscura album today on vinyl, and I got an unexpected treat. With the purchase of the vinyl edition, you get a serial number that allows you to download the entire album. I have to give a thumbs-up to Merge Records on this one; I think it's a great idea - I can listen to the awesome sound of vinyl and pop the download on my iPod too.

Firmin: Adventures of a Metropolitan Lowlife

I like odd books. If a book can make me scratch my head and wrinkle my nose, I consider it satisfying. And no odd book has been so satisfying to me lately as Firmin: Adventures of a Metropolitan Lowlife, the debut novel of Sam Savage.

Sam Savage himself looks like an interesting old cat, judging by his picture on the back cover of his novel. He is about as well-educated as a man can get, and he’s worked all the odd jobs that a man free from corporate burdens can work – bicycle mechanic, carpenter…you name it and he’s probably tried it.

This dichotomy in his person comes to life in Firmin, a very unique (sorry, Charles, had to do it) rat who is born in a bookshop in a dying Boston neighborhood. The runt of a thirteen-baby litter, Firmin often finds himself starving and takes to eating the pages of the books surrounding him. Through some stroke of fate, evolution or pure dumb luck (good or bad, depending on how you look at it), this diet of classic literature seeps into Firmin’s brain, causing it to grow to a very un-rat-like proportion. Firmin quickly learns to read, and trades eating for learning.

In a story that could have been a mere echo of Orwell’s Animal Farm or O’Brien’s Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, Savage throws an original monkey wrench into poor Firmin’s confused life. Firmin is the only evolved rat in the story, and while his brain can soar with the humans with whom he surrounds himself, his rat-sized vocal chords don’t permit him to speak. Attempts at writing and sign language are also foiled by his all too rat-like hands, and he lives his life as a mute with alternating frustration and reluctant acceptance, all the while refusing to associate himself with the lower echelons of his own species.

Firmin meets several people throughout his life – there’s Norman Shine, the bookstore owner with whom Firmin develops an active fantasy life of tweed coats and elbow patches, coffee and firelight discussions of philosophy and politics. This relationship ends when Shine attempts murder by rat poison. Then there’s Jerry Magoon, the science-fiction writer and self-proclaimed smartest person in the world, who befriends Firmin but is not quite smart enough to see the intelligence behind Firmin’s beady little eyes. And then there are the Lovelies – any beautiful lady encountered by Firmin, especially those who take their clothes off in the pornographic movie theater he tends to frequent. Firmin is a pervert, no doubt about it, desiring human women instead of the female rats available to him.

Poor Firmin leads a very sad, lonely life, but he makes the best of it, living in a fantasy land where he plays piano, sings, and dances with the great Ginger Rogers. Firmin is the story of a very small creature living a very big life, set against a backdrop of a diminishing American landscape, and it’s an awesome read that anyone with a quirky sense of humor will enjoy.

Tuesday at the Music Store

The one record I know I'll pick up this week is Thom Yorke's solo album, The Eraser, which I've heard described as Radiohead without guitars or drums. I'm always a little hesitant when buying solo projects, but I'll take my chances with this one.

There are some other interesting releases to note as well. At age 75, Ramblin' Jack Elliot has a new album, I Stand Alone, releasing today. The new Sufjan Stevens record, The Avalanche, also comes out today, but I may wait to find a used copy of this one. I think I'm the only blogger in the world that wasn't blown away by Illinois, so I'm going to take my time with its outtakes.

For a complete list of today's releases, check out Largehearted Boy.

Downloads:
Ramblin' Jack Elliot | Careless Darling [MP3]
Ramblin' Jack Elliot | Rake and Ramblin' Boy [MP3]

Best of 2006 (Haiku Edition)

Yesterday, while drinking my morning coffee, I listened to The Velvet Underground & Nico and sorted through the music I've collected over the last six months. After mulling over all the albums, I finally decided upon a top six, and (not suprisingly) they're all part of my On Heavy Rotation list.

So, here they are, in alphabetical order, described with really bad haikus.

Band of Horses - Everything all the Time
For a couple of
equines, these guys can really
play. Stellar album.



Neko Case - Fox Confessor Brings the Flood
With a voice like no
other, she sings with power
and true perfection.



Danielson - Ships
Daniel Smith is weird,
talented, weird, genuine,
weird and groovy. Weird.



The Raconteurs - Broken Boy Soldiers
Jack White spreads his wings
and leaves Meg behind to rock
in a major way.



Josh Ritter - The Animal Years
Singer/Songwriter
defined. Josh is a poet
who plays music too.



Wolfmother - Wolfmother
Classic rock is back.
Wolfmother picks up where Rush
and The Who left off.



Downloads:
Neko Case | If You Knew [MP3]
Danielson | Did I Step on Your Trumpet [MP3]
Josh Ritter | Girl in the War [MP3]
Band of Horses | The Funeral [MP3]

Sunday Morning Roundup

Largehearted Boy lists the best albums of 2006 (so far) - my list will be posted tomorrow morning.

An Aquarium Drunkard posted some nice outtakes from David Crosby's album, If I Only Cound Remember My Name.

One of my favorite LP's from the early '70s is David Crosby's underrated masterpiece "If I Could Only Remember My Name?" A fully realized embodiment of the "sound" of California's folk/rock/country/psychedelia movement of the time, the album features such players as Neil Young, Jerry Garcia, Joni Mitchell, Phil Lesh, etc., etc. Almost as good as the album (and just, if not more interesting) are these outtakes from the 1970 sessions. These tracks are further proof that Crosby was an artistic force to be reckoned with at his creative peak.

rbally posted a bunch of acoustic tracks, including songs from Wilco, The White Stripes and My Morning Jacket.

Said the Gramaphone published a long piece about We Have the Technology by Peter Ubu.

So here we are. You and I. The moment is delicate. Don’t press play yet. Already I have built the song into myth, the myth of a favourite song, and if you hear it and shrug, ”huh, whatever”, this conspiracy between us, this chance for contact and sympathy, may vanish. Words cannot prevent it.

Mammoth Press interviews John Roderick of The Long Winters.

I write all kinds of stuff: reviews, rants, blather, and their fancier cousin “the essay”. It’s like writing songs, except I don’t have to drive around the country in a van after I write an essay. I guess people are getting hip to me as a writer more and more, and CMJ thought it would be fun. I’ve been trying to write a book for the last five years, but I don’t want to jinx it by talking too much about it.

The Believer interviews Jamie Lidell.

I spent a year out of music, learning programming. My friends were worried because I wasn’t making any music. I was like, “Come over and check out this machine I’ve made!” I got into Raymond Scott and automatic music makers, and I kind of got lost in there for a while. I’m probably going to go back there because it had a lot of potential, but somehow at the time I didn’t have the harmonic theory to back up the ideas. But now I’ve gotten a bit more, so maybe it’s time to revisit that.

The Toronto Sun talks to Jeff Tweedy.

"I've always admired people who make music that is very focused and very coherent," he said. "But I think over the years I have gravitated towards people like Neil Young or Bob Dylan, who seem to wrap themselves up in a much broader emotional range."

Since I posted about R.E.M. on Friday, I thought I'd follow up today with a live Letterman performance from 1983. During the interview section, a shy Michael Stipe quietly hides behing Peter Buck.

More Streaming Videos:
Ani Difranco | Half-Assed [Streaming Video]
Ani Difranco | 32 Flavors [YouTube]
Guster | Morning Becomes Eclectic [Real Video]
R.E.M | Radio Free Europe [YouTube]

On Anorexia, Angst and Kimya Dawson

I read a rumor that Keira Knightly is anorexic. While she strongly denies these allegations, there’s no denying that she is incredibly skinny, and this is a huge source of angst for many young women, myself included. Since the early 90s and the advent of the Kate Moss waif figure, women have had unhealthy body images drilled into their brains in such a way that we spend half our time dieting and exercising, and the other half eating and feeling lazy and fat.

We all want to look like Keira Knightly, yet most of us can’t.

And on top of this, there are many other sources of angst in the world today – global warming; killer hurricanes tearing apart entire cities; tsunamis and earthquakes killing thousands in a matter of minutes; millions of refugees starving in Africa. All of this keeps me awake at night, and yet these issues are so difficult to discuss I usually keep silent about them.

Which is why I was so taken back when I heard Remember that I Love You (K Records), Kimya Dawson's sophomore album. Singing in a child-like, singsong fashion, she bares her soul and her mind for the world to hear. And while her vocals aren't earth-shattering, her songwriting skills are unique and exciting.



Listening to Dawson’s album is like listening to her own private journal – it’s an intimate experience. She sings of her mother’s illness and her own pregnancy, and discusses global issues like our current situation in Iraq, the tsunami that ravaged Indonesia in 2004, and the fact that we are “all a speck of dust inside a giant’s eye,” reminding us of our own personal insignificance. She is open and painfully honest throughout this album, and by the end of the record, I felt like I wanted to be friends with her. I think she’d make an excellent friend. And I wanted to give her a hug…

Download:
Kimya Dawson | Underground [MP3]

Books vs. Cyberbooks

I stumbled upon three articles regarding Cyberbooks vs. Actual Books, and since one of my favorite authors is involved, I thought I'd pass along the links.

Scan this Book! - the lengthy article and catalyst of the other two essays - was written by Kevin Kelly for The New York Times Magazine.

Brewster Kahle, an archivist overseeing another scanning project, says that the universal library is now within reach. "This is our chance to one-up the Greeks!" he shouts. "It is really possible with the technology of today, not tomorrow. We can provide all the works of humankind to all the people of the world. It will be an achievement remembered for all time, like putting a man on the moon." And unlike the libraries of old, which were restricted to the elite, this library would be truly democratic, offering every book to every person.

John Updike, one of the best writers in the world, responded in his old-school-author way with End of Authorship, also published in The New York Times.

In imagining a huge, virtually infinite wordstream accessed by search engines and populated by teeming, promiscuous word snippets stripped of credited authorship, are we not depriving the written word of its old-fashioned function of, through such inventions as the written alphabet and the printing press, communication from one person to another — of, in short, accountability and intimacy? Yes, there is a ton of information on the Web, but much of it is egregiously inaccurate, unedited, unattributed and juvenile. The electronic marvels that abound around us serve, surprisingly, to inflame what is most informally and noncritically human about us — our computer screens stare back at us with a kind of giant, instant "Aw, shucks," disarming in its modesty, disquieting in its diffidence.

And lastly, Annalee Newitz, assails John Updike's opinion with her keyboard and mouse all in a dither.

Most writers who, like myself, spend their days jabbering online have a tendency to read essays like Updike's as the rantings of an obsolete Luddite who can't tell the difference between a wiki and an RSS feed. It's easy to make fun of the guy for not knowing a whole lot about the technologies he's criticizing. But let's take him seriously for a minute and consider what he's actually getting at beneath his profound misunderstandings of Google Print and bookshelf mash-ups.

Flashback Friday: R.E.M.

Yesterday morning, I opened the media closet and peered inside. What should I listen to on the way to work? Should I listen to something new for the web site or something old and comfortable? Okay, Yanni it is.

Just kidding. I pulled out Lifes Rich Pageant and headed out the door.

When it comes to old and comfortable, R.E.M. is the band I often turn to (sorry, Michael/Mike/Peter, if this makes you feel, um, aged). Their music has been with me for so long, it just feels right. About five years ago, I listened to nothing but R.E.M. for about six months straight. Yes, I know that sounds a little odd, but they have a lot of albums, so it's not quite as repetitive as you'd think.



One of the albums I played the most was Lifes Rich Pageant. From Begin the Begin to the somewhat hidden track, Superman, this record is a classic. Recorded in 1986 when the band was still a foursome and when Michael Stipe still had hair, LRP was the band's fifth album, and it's still one of their best. Songs like Fall on Me are melodically and lyrically beautiful, and songs like Cuyahoga are made for car-singing.

My favorite song on the album (and one of my favorite R.E.M. songs ever) is Swan Swan H. A simple track with acoustic guitar and amazing vocals, the song is sad and beautiful and perfect. If this were the only track on the album, the album would still be worth buying. It's that good.

If (and I shudder to write this sentence) you don't have any R.E.M. albums, this is a great place to start. My other favorites are Murmur, Document, Automatic for the People and New Adventures in Hi-Fi.

Swan Swan H

Swan swan hummingbird
Hurrah we are all free now
What noisy cats are we
Girl and dog he bore his cross
A long low time ago people talk to me

Johnny Reb what’s the price of fans
Forty a piece or three for one dollar
Hey captain don’t you want to buy
Some bone chains and toothpicks

Night wings her hair chains
Here’s your wooden greenback sing
Wooden beams and dovetail sweep
I struck that picture ninety times
I walked that path a hundred ninety
Long low time ago people talk to me

A pistol hot cup of rhyme
The whiskey is water the water is wine
Marching feet Johnny Reb what’s the price of heroes

Six and one half dozen the other
Tell that to the captain’s mother
Hey captain don’t you want to buy
Some bone chains and toothpicks

Night wings, her hair chains
Swan swan hummingbird
Hurrah we are all free now
What noisy cats are we
Long, low time ago, people talk to me
A pistol hot cup of rhyme
The whiskey is water the water is wine

Album Review: Vetiver

In the tradition of artists like Bob Dylan, Andy Cabic of Vetiver writes and plays minimalist music that’s usually acoustic and always amazing. Vetiver only plays what needs playing and leaves the rest behind. Like a model in a Helmut Newton photograph, their music is laid bare and beautiful, and their latest album, To Find Me Gone, is a work of art.

Released by DiCristina Stairbuilders, the album was written and recorded over the last two years, while Cabic was touring with both Vetiver and the enigmatic Devendra Banhart (who joins Vetiver a few times on the record).

To Find Me Gone opens with Been So Long and the slow ascendance of a harmonium. Then a drum kicks in with a heartbeat rhythm and layers of instrumentation are added. Cabic’s understated vocals are joined by crisp acoustic guitar, the delicate backing vocals of Rachael Hughes, and a haunting flute played by Alissa Anderson.

Devandra Banhart joins the band on the second track, You May Be Blue, which reminds me of Sam Beam and his Iron & Wine stylings. The track is layered with a multitude of instruments, but Cabic’s minimalism is still evident as the song ebbs and flows. The music is dark and haunting and matches the lyrics perfectly - My time with you / Beat a thorn filled path / Blood fell where we passed through / Blood red with wrath.

Changing gears, Idle Ties is an upbeat song reminiscent of The Beatles, filled with the sounds of mandolin, viola, clavinet, violin, cello, ukulele, tambourine and guitar. With its happy melody, the track is a perfect foil to You May be Blue, and exemplifies the diversity of Cabic’s songwriting skills.

I Know No Pardon, my favorite track on the album, has an ever-so-slight country music feel, with beautiful slide guitar and the down-and-out lyrics of a man on the run:

Maria, please don't leave me now, I need you
I'm wanted and there's no where I can go
My up's turned down, my luck's spun round and left me
No I didn't see it coming but oh I’m watching it go

The album ends on a high note with Down at El Rio. With Cabic and Banhart playing their guitars and singing and Otto Hauser playing the drums, the track meanders with a laid back groove and ends with quite a few lighthearted lat da da da da’s.

Each track on To Find Me Gone enhances the songs around it, and there’s not a weak link in the bunch. It’s albums like this that remind me why I love music - I can put on my headphones and fall into the record, forgetting everything else as I try to soak in each note of viola, harmonium and pedal steel. Heartfelt music and well-crafted lyrics is what it’s all about, and Vetiver has it by the truckload.

Download:
Vetiver | You May Be Blue [MP3]

Philip Roth's Everyman

Philip Roth is a poet.

Sure, he may write prose, but as one of America’s most prolific contemporary novelists, the words that flow through his works have the ease and grace of poetry.

I like Philip Roth’s novels because they are accessible to me in so many ways. His settings are often based in my home state of New Jersey, and he writes of secular Jewish people who feel out of their element in a world that frequently makes faith unattainable. I can easily relate.



Roth’s latest offering, Everyman, is a slight deviation from his norm. The main character of this novel is dead. We meet him at his funeral and learn about him through the reaction of his mourners, who are few and mostly unaffected by his death. Told in flashbacks, the man’s life is then laid out on paper as a timeline of illness. We meet him as a child, entering the hospital for hernia surgery, then as a young adult, in surgery for a ruptured appendix. The list of illnesses grows as he ages, and through his hospital visits, we learn of his victories as a successful art editor and of his failures as a husband, son, brother and friend. He is in Paris with a mistress when his mother dies; he is in the hospital recovering from his ruptured appendix when he loses his father; resenting his older brother's good health, their relationship deteriorates as his own veins and arteries fail; he cheats on each of his three wives with both guilt and abandon.

Roth is subtle in his handling of this man and his life. Throughout the story, we do not learn our protagonist’s name – instead, he is son, little brother, the little patient, and eventually husband. He is no one, and he is everyone who has ever lived and made mistakes and loved and lost and died. His failures are sometimes circumstantial, sometimes self-induced, and in his loneliness at his life’s end, he is not alone.

At times, when reading Philip Roth, I have to stop and marvel at his simplicity in word choice. Most writers would not accurately describe the sound dirt makes when hitting a grave, and yet no one who has heard this sound will ever forget it. Roth, however, handles it with ease when he writes, Upon landing on the wood cover of the coffin, it made the sound that is absorbed into one’s being like no other.

Then, as our hero’s life draws to a painful, slow end, he discusses death with delicacy and fortitude. These words near the end of the novel speak for themselves, and I cannot do them justice without letting you read them.

The words spoken by the bones made him feel buoyant and indestructible. So did the hard-won subjugation of his darkest thoughts. Nothing could extinguish the vitality of that boy whose slender little torpedo of an unscathed body once rode the big Atlantic waves from a hundred yards out in the wild ocean all the way to shore. Oh, the abandon of it, and the smell of the salt water and the scorching sun. Daylight, he thought, penetrating everywhere, day after summer day of that daylight blazing off a living sea, an optical treasure so vast and valuable that he could have been peering through the jeweler’s loupe engraved with his father’s initials at the perfect, priceless planet itself – at his home, the billion-, the trillion-, the quadrillion-carat planet Earth!

Philip Roth, as I said, is a poet.

Jim Noir

On August 8th, Jim Noir's feel-good album, Tower of Love, is landing stateside courtesy of Barsuk Records. If you're tired of whiney, sad-bastard music or aren't in the mood for the-world-is-against-me angst, Jim Noir offers a nice alternative. His music is upbeat, happy and well-crafted, and it will prompt you to smile and bop around the house. It may also make you want to buy cool hats, but I'm not 100% sure.

Check out Key of C below and visit Jim's MySpace page, where you can listen to additional songs like Einie Meany and Ordinary Man.



Download:
Jim Noir | Key of C [MP3]

Sunday Morning Roundup

Morning Becomes Eclectic had Guster in the studio, and the show is now online.

An Aquarium Drunkard posted his 10th podcast with tracks from Loose Fur, Josh Ritter, Radiohead and Beck.

Scott Adams of Dilbert fame posted about a proposed flag burning amendment. I read Adams' blog all the time, and, so far, this is my favorite of his posts.

I consider myself a highly patriotic guy and I understand how people can get worked up over the flag being burned. I love my flag. But symbols are personal things, and everyone is free to interpret them however they see fit. For me, a flag that I’m NOT allowed to burn is a symbol that the government is too intrusive in my life. And it’s an insult to anyone who died to defend freedom. But that’s just me. You might prefer your symbols of freedom to have as many restrictions as possible.

Brooklyn Vegan discussed a free TV on the Radio show and posted some nice pictures too. Village Voice also posted Cookie Monsters of 'Rock' - a great article about TVotR.

"We're not super-intellectuals," he protests, deep in analysis of his band's anti-methodology. "It's not like TV on the Radio is doing something that's so avant-garde or new or cutting-edge or anything. It's just that so many people are not doing that."

Chromewaves posted the Best of 2006 (So Far), which I will be doing sometime next week too, and it looks like we'll have a few albums in common. It's hard to believe the year is half over...

Herohill wrote an album review of the upcoming La Rocca record, The Truth.

Originally I passed on the EP, after hearing "Irish guys trying to sound like U2" tag being kicked around the net like a hackeysack at the beach. To me, that is a recipe for disaster, but I recently upwrapped a fresh copy of "The Truth (due out August 8th on Dangerbird)" and gave it a listen and was very impressed. First off, to me at least, these guys sound nothing like U2. They do sound catchy as hell, and I can really hear the strength of producer Tony Hoffer (Supergrass, Belle and Sebastian, the Kinks) shining through.

Said the Gramaphone posted about The Theater Fire track, These Tears Could Rust a Train. STG is one of the best-written music blogs around and is always a fun read.

Every bar of this song exudes modesty. Perhaps the guitarist - a player of some skill - had once been accused of hotdogging, because now, though he plays confidently and with feeling, a few bum notes are thrown in for appearance's sake. Sometimes, when he slides up the neck of his guitar, he makes a sound like that of glass shattering - but not wanting to alarm us, he makes it not the sound of enormous window panes falling from the top of skyscrapers, but of bifocals falling off of a short woman's face, or maybe of little blown glass dragons falling out of a child's hand, onto hardwood floors.

David Sedaris spoke at Princeton University's Baccalaureate, and The New Yorker published it.

In truth, I had no idea what I wanted to study, so for the first few years I took everything that came my way. I enjoyed pillaging and astrology, but the thing that ultimately stuck was comparative literature. There wasn’t much of it to compare back then, no more than a handful of epic poems and one novel about a lady detective, but that’s part of what I liked about it. The field was new, and full of possibilities, but try telling that to my parents.

You Ain't No Picasso wrote a Final Fantasy concert review, and it appears that the show went over very well.

Let me start by saying that Final Fantasy is no novelty act. When Owen Pallett performs solo live, using just a violin and a handful of pedals, it’s not because he’s trying to be cute about it. I think the problem is just that we’re not used to a rail-thin Canadian sauntering on stage with just the aforementioned tools and putting on one of the best live shows you’re likely to see all year.

Downloads:
Mike Doughty | White Lexus (Live) [MP3]
Mike Doughty | Madeline and Nine (Live) [MP3]
Mike Doughty | Paradise City / Gambler (Live) [MP3]
Mike Doughty | Live 09.14.05 [MP3, FLAC, OGG]

Heather Duby

Not only does Heather Duby have a really cool name, she has a new self-titled album coming out July 18th on Sonic Boom Recordings. Following up 1999’s Post to Wire and 2003’s Come Across the River, the new album showcases Duby’s trip hop stylings and pop sensibility. Have a listen below and let me know what you think. Also, check out Heather’s MySpace page.



Listen:
Heather Duby | Still Rough [Streaming MP3]