audio addiction

I may have broken the rules. Just a little.

"Sorrow found me when I was young. Sorrow waited. Sorrow won."

The National's High Violet was not one of the three albums I selected to spend time with this week, but..

"I was carried to Ohio in a swarm of bees."

I just couldn't wait another week to check it out.

"I never thought about love when I thought about home."

Perhaps part of the problem is that Boxer was so excellent. I listened to it a lot. I went to see them in concert. I listened to it until it made me sick. Then I listened some more.

"Tired and wired we ruin too easy."

Then I spent all of my free time at work last week reading about their follow up. The New York Times website featured a lengthy article about the band and streamed the entire album a week before it's release. I read their Wikipedia page at least three times. Pitchfork followed the band's every move in anticipation of the new release and then predictably listed it as a one of the best offerings of the year the day it was dropped in stores.

"I'm a confident liar. Have my head in the oven so you know where I'll be. I try to be more romantic. I want to believe in everything you believe. I was less than amazing. I do not know what all the troubles are for. I fall asleep in your branches. You're the only thing I ever want anymore."

And what you may not realize about The National is that their music seeps into you like water until all the free space in your head has been filled with their lyrics. It's a slow process. A "Slow Show" if you will (that was in poor taste, I know). One listen is innocent enough. But you can't just listen once.

"I wanna hurry home to you, put on a slow, dumb show for you and crack you up so you can put a blue ribbon on my brain. God, I'm very very frightening. I'll over do it."

I won't go on about how unique Matt Berninger's baritone is. I won't bore you with ramblings about how his lyrics seem to be just as unique, confessing the thoughts and feelings of the committed, the married, the middle class, the suburbs, the bored and the exhausted. You don't need me to tell you how this separates The National from their fellow indie rock bands.

"With my kid on my shoulders I try not to hurt anybody I like."

In my opinion, it's obvious how and why this band is different.

"I still owe money, to the money, to the money I owe."

After four days of listening I wake up in the morning with these lyrics running through my head. Well, not just these lyrics. It's any number of words from both Boxer and High Violet because, of course, I had to go back and listen to Boxer to compare it to the new album.

"We're so disarming, darling. Everything we did believe is diving, diving, diving off the balcony."

It's usually just one line. Then another will pop up later in the day. Then another. I really have no choice but to listen to these songs over and over again, just to get the lyrics out of my head. But this is by no means torture. Somehow The National have found a way to make music that doesn't get old. I can't stop listening. I don't want to stop listening. It's about more than just the lyrics and Berninger's vocals, of course. The drumming is pristine. The piano and horns are sprinkled in just right. The steady roll of the guitars is perhaps just as mesmerizing as Berninger's baritone. It's the perfect storm. It's night time, you're "six drinks in" (as Pitchfork describes it) and this band has somehow made a soundtrack for a life that is not quite your own but is close enough to it that it's soothing.

"Nowhere that I thought I'd be by now. My head is a buzzing three star hotel."

They have a way of making things sound the way I often wish things would in my head.

"You're all humming live wires under your killing clothes. Get over here, I want to kiss your skinny throat."

So, consider this both a warning and a recommendation. It will stick with you. And you will like it.

"I was afraid I'd eat your brains, cause I'm evil."

still trying

I'll be honest, I've felt rather uninspired about most things lately, including writing. I've still been scooping up new music and I've been trolling through my collection trying to get things organized on my brand new, super-sized iPod but I haven't gotten much out of the music. I'm not sure what's happening. Maybe I'm getting old and growing out of the "music speaks to me" phase, although I doubt that's it. Maybe they aren't making music like they used to. There might be something to that. I think the more likely reason is that I've felt particularly stressed and down in the dumps lately. I have found myself in a continuous battle with me about when and how I should become a newer me. When will this post-divorce funk wear off? When will I stop thinking about doing things and actually do them? Fortunately that still small voice that whispers in my ear "waiting is not wasting time" gets heard most days and at least once a week I get a healthy reminder that I'm not doing nothing, I'm growing even if it's often too slow for me to see. I've never been more grateful for Sue Monk Kidd's When the Heart Waits. If you've ever experienced crisis, if you've ever felt impatient with your own personal transformation or if you've ever felt a little lost inside your cocoon read this book and know that you are not alone.

Today I remembered this blog and I decided I need to keep writing. It would be more like the old me to forget about it, or pretend to forget about it and casually abandon it with some lame excuse as to why I couldn't do it any more. So, here I am, being new by continuing something I started a couple of months ago. I've picked three more albums to spend time with, in the hopes to get to know them a little better. Somehow it makes sense for one of them to be Kid Cudi's Man on the Moon: The End of Day. Kid Cudi, as it turns out, is a new breed of sad, sappy rappers with a Kanye West sized ego. No doubt, Cudi took a cue or two from his fellow mid-Westerner's 808's & Heartbreak (on which Cudi performs) and makes an attempt with his first solo album to appear vulnerable, flawed and prone to sadness. I haven't spent much time with it, but I'll at least give him credit for trying something a bit different. The third single "Pursuit of Happiness" features new wave, electronic dance bands MGMT and Ratatat. That's a welcome collaboration, in my opinion. Steve Aoki's remix can also be heard in the following Cudi narrated Vitamin Water advert:



For my other two selections I've chosen Best New Music dubbed Big Echo from The Morning Benders and the third full length from Kings of Convenience - Declaration of Dependence.

PS. Apple sucks and has pulled the plug on Lala.com so, I can't share audio with you at the moment..boooo


Try out the album opener "Excuses"


My favorite so far is "My Ship Isn't Pretty"


The aforementioned "Pursuit of Happiness" is the one that catches my ear.

the past didn't go anywhere

Ring Out The Warning Bell - Th...

Last week I was fortunate enough to be able to attend a most excellent show in which the Appleseed Cast performed Low Level Owl Vol. 1 & 2 in it's entirety here in Philly. So good. I'll admit I'm not a fan of all their music. I pretty much stick to the that nearly perfect two disc set and last year's mostly instrumental Sagarmatha. When I heard that the band was coming to town I thought, tempting but I don't really know if I want to sit (or stand) through the rest of their catalog. I vowed only to go if the band could promise to play music from the two albums that I held near and dear. As their date grew closer I read that they had somehow heard my plea and were planning to play Low Level Owl, front to back. Awesome!

I biked to the venue, grabbed a drink at the corner store and descended into the basement of the First Unitarian Church just in time to watch the band stroll on stage and start their set. Perfect. As I listened, my buddy asked me what year the album was first released and I remembered that it was way back in 2001, close to ten years ago. This made me feel old. 2001 really doesn't seem that long ago. Then I start to think about it. A lot was different back then. I moved from my parents house in the suburbs of Baltimore to the city of brotherly love, much to my mother's dismay. I transferred from Howard Community College, essentially an extension of high school, to the much much larger Temple University, right in the heart of treacherous North Philly. I had a girlfriend then, now I have an ex-wife. I worked in retail and held down overnight shifts at WPEN 950 AM, now I'm nearly in my fifth year at Disc Makers, making discs. I drove a red '92 Chevy Cavalier, then a green '96 Pontiac Grand Am, then a silver '06 Scion XB and now a '98 Chevy Lumina. I've lived in six different apartments/houses in four different parts of the city...I think you get the point. A lot can happen in 9 years.

Some things age so well. Some things don't change. Low Level Owl still sounds meticulously crafted today. It still holds it's relevancy, even though it's authors have grown and their sound has changed, as has their lineup. I admired their commitment to a fan favorite and a defining record. I admired how they are acknowledging the past. It doesn't leave us, no matter how much we regret it or wish it away or attempt to deny it. Even if we've come to terms with it, the past still molds us and is a part of what we carry forward. Just listen to the "Golden voice of the Great Southwest" explain it (below). After that, go back to 2001 (using your time travling transporter), spend a couple of hours with the Appleseed Cast and remember.

Bridges - Ani DiFranco, Utah P...

the hype machine

Don't believe the hype. I have always taken the words of Flava Flav seriously. And even more seriously than that, those of Chuck D - I don't rhyme for the sake of riddlin' / Some claim that I'm a smuggler / Some say I never heard of ya / A rap burglar, false media / We don't need it, do we? / It's fake, that's what it to be to ya, dig me?

It's here that I would like to take a brief time out and say what a superbly awesome album It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back was. Rap music has never been the same. Without it and without Public Enemy, my blog would have no name because there would not have been a Terminator X. He wanted to call himself "DJ Mellow Dick". Thank goodness Chuck D talked him out of that one. As Chuck recalls, "I gave him the name Terminator X, which meant that he was about terminating all the nonsense, and then the X symbolized the unknown, a terminating of things we think we believe, that we don't really know about." Yeah. What Chuck said.

What was Chuck saying? I think he pretty much summed it up on "Don't Believe the Hype". He's talking about education, about facts. He's talking about making up your own mind, gathering the information yourself and making an informed decision. Erase what you think might be true. Seek the truth yourself. I know many have heard him, but I wonder how many folks were really listening to Chuck.

Don't Believe The Hype - Publi...

Personally, I have always shied away from hype. When I start to hear too much about a movie, a book or music I almost automatically lose interest in it. There's no way it could be as good as everyone is saying. I have vowed never to watch Avatar. Besides the fact that I feel like I'm being swindled out of $15 because I'm forced to view it in a 3D theater to get the full effect, I can't stand how everyone is pouring over it. It can't be that good, it doesn't matter how much you say it. However, there are a few albums out there that I can't seem to get away from. I've finally decided that I can no longer ignore all the hype. I will reserve judgement until I've been able to listen thoroughly, of course.

Everyone I know on Facebook is raving about Joanna Newsom's new triple LP, Have One on Me and she's getting just as much love from the press. I'll be honest, I'm skeptical. I have a copy of her previous release, Y's and I'm just not that into it. Maybe I'm missing something, but I find it kind of boring. She sings, she plays the harp. All of her songs are like ten minutes long. I'm not sure I get how three discs of that can be so amazing, but I can't stand hearing about it any more. I have to check it out for myself. I downloaded it last night. I'm listening right now.

The new Gorillaz release, Plastic Beach has been met with the not-so-surprising warmth Damon Albarn's projects usually receive. I'll be honest folks, just about everything he does I find underwhelming. Blur? Meh. Although 2003's Think Tank was excellent. The Good, The Bad and The Queen? So very boring. That was supposed to be a super group with members of The Clash, The Verve and famed Fela Kuti percussionist Tony Allen. I'm sorry, it was forgettable. The first two Gorillaz albums have been fun, but nothing remarkable. Word is Plastic Beach is much more cohesive. The little I've heard sounds pretty great. The first single, "Stylo" is fun. I heard "Empire Ants" this morning and it's just about perfect. Plus, any song with both De La Soul and Gruff Rhys of Super Furry Animals guest starring has got to be good ("Superfast Jellyfish). I'm willing to keep giving Albarn a try.

Dr. Dog is local legend, one that I have sort of been avoiding for my entire tenure in Philly. I've had two of their albums for a long time now (Easy Beat and We All Belong) and have yet to spend much time with either of them. I keep seeing their name, hearing good things. It's time I gave We All Belong a good listen.

I'm terminating any predispositions and will attempt to listen with new ears. Chuck D would be proud, I think.




(Start with "Easy". It's the first track on the first disc. It's...easy)

Empire Ants (Feat. Little Drag...

My Old Ways - Dr. Dog

the little things

I have purposely cut back on the variety of music I make available to myself this month. This means I have less choice, which means I spend less time thinking about the choice, which in the end means more time with the music and a greater satisfaction with my choice. If you haven't done so, you should read this book by Barry Schwartz. Don't worry if you have to read in small sections to avoid getting a headache. Dude is way smart.

I still can't help but feel as if I'm missing out on something though. They haven't stopped making new music, thankfully. It just keeps coming, whether I listen or not. How will I ever take it all in? How can I be sure that while I'm listening to the rather mediocre Blakroc I'm not missing the next big thing, my next favorite record? Joanna Newsom's new triple LP has been out for weeks now and I haven't heard one note of it because I've been giving myself other listening assignments. Is this why they say the grass is always greener? Are there ever times when the grass looks as green as it can get right under my feet?

My life has been a scandal for a bit more than a year now. I've had relationship trouble, financial trouble, family trouble, car trouble and troubles of the soul. When will my grass be green again? Will my grass be green again? What does this have to do with music? I touched on this last week, but when I can slow down and take notice of the little things I start to understand that without them, there are no big things. Sure, I could be listening to hundreds of other records but instead I've really come to love Jackson Browne, "Who Knows Who Cares" by Local Natives and about half of the Broken Bells album. That's not nothing. They shouldn't be overlooked by obsessing with what's next.

The same can be said with the rest of my life. While on the subway Tuesday evening I had the time and space to ponder why it was so hard for me to ask for help trying to get my car to start. Why did that feel so humiliating? Taking the time to notice that feeling, to process it, helped me move on to the next thing. Perhaps it's a bit of a stretch as a comparison, but I've spent a lot of time with the six albums I set aside the last two weeks. I know them now and don't really have to question whether I should spend more time with them. It's okay to move on to something else.

So, the next thing will be Teen Dream (2010) by Beach House, Goo (1990) by Sonic Youth and The Campfire Headphase (2005) by Boards of Canada.

Zebra - Beach House

Disappearer - Sonic Youth

(If I could share a song it would be "Chromakey Democrat")

okay, three things at a time.

Last week I started a little experiment with the intention of making myself more familiar with the music I have collected. I decided I would choose three albums a week and listen to nothing but those three albums. I decided on Jackson Brown - Jackson Browne, Damien Jurado - Caught in the Trees and Local Natives - Gorilla Manor. Now, I will admit that I did not listen to these albums exclusively. I think that would have turned into punishment rather than enjoyment. So, I allowed myself to take breaks from those three albums and listen to other things, the rule being that the other things had to be albums I already knew inside and out. They ended up being things like Modest Mouse's The Moon and Antarctica, Coldplay's Parachutes, Grizzly Bear's Veckatimest, Mos Def & Talib Kweli's Black Star and Bjork's Homogenic.

I'm happy to report that this went well. I actually found myself wanting to listen to the three albums I had chosen more. The songs would get stuck in my head and I would choose to go back to them. And now I feel like I have a more intimate knowledge of all three albums. Success! So, I'll try it again this week. My selections are below.

I like to try and make these blog posts and my approach to music about more than just the music. As big as music is in my daily life, if I'm being honest I'll admit that this kind of stuff has no ultimate importance. I'd rather not squander all of my free time writing about things of no real meaning, regardless of how fun it might be. And I'd prefer not to waste your time either. But I think the way I have been approaching music this past week is a method that could be applied to several other facets of life.

We are consumers. We take and take and take, many times without knowing exactly what it is we're taking. Someone tells us that it's good, we believe them and we keep taking. We eat up albums, movies, books, news, gadgets, work and school assignments and often treat them as nothing more than tasks. I love me some technology. The Internet is brilliant. But let's not allow all of this accessibility to overtake us. Let's slow down. Enjoy a quiet evening or afternoon and make something ours, our own. Let's own things, make them a part of who we are (only if they fit, of course). Let's understand them. I grow a bit tired of feeling overwhelmed by all of the things being thrown at me and then I realize that a lot of the time, I'm reaching out to receive them instead of controlling how fast and furious I take things in. I've been reading Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird (yes, I'm still reading it). Her advice for aspiring authors is to practice observation skills. Practice noticing the small details of the people and things around you, then use those details in your stories. That seems like good life advice too. Get to know ourselves and our surroundings a bit better.

Here are this coming week's three albums of choice: Neil Young's self-titled solo debut from 1968 (the remasterd version, of course), The Black Keys/Damon Dash rock/rap mash up project from last year, Blakroc, and the new album from Danger Mouse and James Mercer of The Shins, Broken Bells.

I've Loved Her So Long - Neil ...

On The Vista Feat. Mos Def - B...

The Mall & Misery - Broken Bel...

one thing at a time

Lately I have been remembering how things were when I was younger. A time when every dollar I found went towards a new cassette or baseball cards, when I would sit by the radio every evening and record songs from top ten countdowns and underground hip-hop shows. I would spend hours listening to the same album, the entire album, and then spend weeks listening to it again simply because I only had so many of them and it often was just easier to listen to the entire album rather than FF my way to a specific song. This is how I memorized just about all of the lyrics to Cooleyhighharmony and The Low End Theory. And that's music that will stick with me forever. There are memories in those albums, regardless of how I feel about the music today. I can see myself sitting in the back of the minivan with my walkmen and headphones riding through Tennessee. I can picture the cassette in my hand while I stood in the check out line at the new & used tape store near my grandparents house in Aspen Hill, MD.

This week I was at home scrolling through my iTunes library and I came across Damien Jurado's Caught in the Trees. I've had this album in digital form since it was new in 2008 and I don't think I've listened to it in it's entirety until Monday night. That just doesn't seem right, particularly because Caught in the Trees is a pretty nice record. I've made this a habit. I grab and collect music everywhere I go. A download here, a cd there, a sudden obsession with Jackson Browne and before I know it I've got a library of music I'm mostly unfamiliar with and rarely listen to.

I've been trying to decide who to blame for this. The first suspect is the internet. I'm a relatively new Jackson Browne fan. When I started listening to his music I almost instantly acquired four of his albums with one click of the mouse. Music has never been so easy to acquire. Of those four albums, I've taken the time to listen to two of them, maybe. Of those two, I've taken the time to listen to one more than once.

The second suspect could be the optical disc or digital media in general. Let's just call it "format". It's so easy to skip around from one song to the next, from one album to another that actually sitting down and listening to an entire album has become a rare occurrence for me. The only time it really ever happens is when I'm in the car and even then I often tend to listen to some mix of songs and various artists that I've compiled from the digital files on my computer. Skipping through songs was kind of a pain with cassettes so, I just let them roll. There is, of course, a raging argument about how digital media has killed "the album". I'm not so sure about all of that, but it does seem to require more effort on the part of the listener to experience an album through and through. I will say that when folks like Radiohead record a song and then make it available for download the next day it kind of takes the fun out of it for me. I want a compiled collection of recordings all created with the same goal in mind - release to the public. I like the release part. A new album from a favorite band should be an event, something to look forward to.

The third suspect would be me. I've become greedy. I've become lazy. A lot of the time, I allow the many distractions of our digital world to shrink my attention span. Focusing on one thing becomes difficult. I think I should be multi-tasking, or at least that's what I've been trained to do. I grab music without knowing anything about it or having listened to one note of it previously. Then I let it sit on my computer for months at a time while I move on to the next thing. I have a ton of music and listen to portions of it all the time, but I don't know most of it. What a failure...

I plan to fix this. Here's how. I'm going to choose three albums a week and listen to them and only them in the times I would normally be breezing through something else and not really be paying attention to it. And, I'm going to do this regardless of how much I decide I like the album. I'll give it one week. So, three albums, on repeat, for one week. This week I have selected Damien Jurado's Caught in the Trees (since he sorta started all of this), best new music-dubbed Local Natives' Gorilla Manor and Jackson Browne's self-titled debut from 1972. I'll let you know how it goes.

Jamaica Say You Will - Jackson...

Wide Eyes - Local Natives

Gillian Was A Horse - Damien J...