Press Release: The "I think my head just exploded" edition.

Press Release: The "I think my head just exploded" edition.

This seriously just arrived in my in-box, and I don't even know where to go with it ...

AL JOURGENSEN TO JOIN CHEAP TRICK
AT THE HOLLYWOOD BOWL FOR THE BEATLES'
"SGT. PEPPER'S LONELY HEARTS CLUB BAND"
40TH ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION

LOS ANGELES, CA - July 31, 2007 -- Ministry's AL JOURGENSEN has been confirmed to special guest with Cheap Trick when they perform The Beatles' "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" from start to finish in celebration of the 40th anniversary of the landmark album. Jourgensen will join Cheap Trick onstage in Los Angeles at the Hollywood Bowl on August 10 and 11 to perform the Beatles' "I Want You (She's So Heavy)," considered to be one of the most complex songs ever recorded by the Fab Four.

At the specific request of Cheap Trick's Rick Nielson and Robin Zander, the Ministry guitarist/vocalist has re-arranged the song and made it "bent, in the Al Jourgensen way." Ministry/RevCo guitarist Sin Quirin will join Jourgensen and Cheap Trick onstage for the performance.

It's just, I mean, I ... I love Cheap Trick, and I have a real soft spot for Ministry, but I thought the idea of Cheap Trick covering Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band in its entirety was a bad idea to begin with, so I can't see how this pairing can be anything more than a bad acid trip to rival the Stigwood production of the movie adaptation.

Fueling the drive.

Fueling the drive.

I will be running non-stop from Thursday night to late Sunday, due to Lollapalooza this weekend. I've been doing lots of prep-work -- listening to the various bands, reading up on biographies, eating right, exercising, gathering gear and making sure it's all in working order -- to ensure that things run smoothly and I don't run out of steam.

Another essential component to surviving the weekend is an appropriate playlist to keep me going when I'm rushing to and from the festival grounds during the day, or around to the after-shows at night. One band that is on that playlist this year is the Australian combo Magic Dirt. I was introduced to the group at just about the same time by two completely different sources, Paul in the U.S. and Amy in Australia, earlier this year. Their sound is firmly rooted in that early-'90s overdriven Alternative Seattle scene, only with sweeter female-led melodies similar to The Breeders. Paul actually put together a pretty terrific compilation of their earlier work for friends to listen to and I'm grateful for the intro or I would have totally missed the release of this year's EP, Beast.

The discs's final track, "Sucker Love," has been wending its way into my DJ sets, and I predict it'll get a bit of airplay in ye olde headphones any time I need a little pick-me-up in the back of a cab or on the way to a late night show over the weekend.

MP3: Magic Dirt "Sucker Love"

UPDATE: As Paul mentions in the comments, you can access his excellent compilation of Magic Dirt's earlier, and out-of-print, work here. Get it!

Catching up with overseas friends.

Catching up with overseas friends.

I spent most of the day yesterday hanging out with BBC America. I got all caught up with Footballer's Wives and Hex, and then discovered that the first episode of Jekyll was available through In Demand, even though it doesn't properly premiere until next week.


This summer's been pretty dull in TV-land for me, so I'd been looking forward to seeing Jekyll, and once I realized it was scripted by the same guy who brought us Coupling, Steven Moffatt, I was even more excited. I really like Moffatt's way with dialogue, and suspected he might be good at blending dark humor with suspenseful subject matter. After seeing the pilot, my suspicions were confirmed, since I found myself going from smirking at the screen during an encounter with a mysterious duo in a pub, to clutching the sides of the couch as the Hyde half of the main character elicits information from a therapist.

The true joy of the show is James Nesbitt, who plays Tom Jackman a.k.a. Jeyll / Hyde. Through no larger costume change than a little hair gel he does a stunning job of creating two completely different characters sharing the same body. Watching his switch from repressed researcher into a gleeful explosion of no-holds barred psychotic Id is one of the most compelling parts of the shaow and I dare say that it's his personality and skill that drives the whole show.

As an aside, it's interesting to note that Michelle Ryan, who plays Jackman's therapist oddly working for both of his halves, will be appearing on American television next year as The Bionic Woman, and considering she comes off as a far sexier Jennifer Garner in Jekyll, I predict she's going to do pretty well in her Stateside debut.

Was it all a dream?

Was it all a dream?

Even the simple attempt at thinking of even trying to even tackle the chronicles of last night hurts my head. Sentimentality (goodbye Josh), surreality (Keep and his special friend with a friend with special needs), and simmering anger (it wasn't me Tom!) ran head-on into each other to provide sparks (not the capitalized kind) for all.

Plus, for once, both Rudy and JB retired before I did! But I had the secret weapon of Mister and Misses 'Balls on my side, so they never had a chance.

I am a simple man and I lead a simple life.

I am a simple man and I lead a simple life.

Today I shall do laundry, sundry chores, hit the gym, and then rock out with Kip's cock out. And then I shall bid fare thee well to L'il Josh.

And,considering the amount of booze in my veins by that hour, I suspect I will end up at Continental asking myself why I ended up at Continental. Stay tuned!

Girls gone buck wild dance party.

Girls gone buck wild dance party.

Had a blast DJing with Sean and Lizz last night. The schedule got screwed at the last minute due to a band playing, but everyone worked around it and a good time was had by all. And Herb only got on the mic once. He grimaced at a few of the songs, but all the girls dancing meant that grimace kept turning into a smile.

It's also the first time I've seen a band frantically breaking down their gear for fear someone might stomp on it whilst busting a move.

It was a hell of a fucking dance party. I played '80s music and didn't mind one bit, even though I was in a super "I wanna play all brand new and unreleased stuff" mood going into the night.

Now I am in a "can't fucking wait to see Milk At Midnight at Quencher's tonight" type of mood.

Yessssss.

NOTE: That picture is old. 'Balls wasn't out last night. And neither was his Italian hooker cousin. But I suspect I will see both of them tonight. Fer reals.

ANOTHER NOTE: After reading that last sentence one is forced to ask: when exactly did I turn into an eleven year-old?

Ugh.

Ugh.

Photogal is out of town and I was busy being a social butterfly last night, so I need time to regroup. Talk amongst yourselves.

I can't believe I almost totally forgot to tell you this!

I can't believe I almost totally forgot to tell you this!

DJZZ, Vinyl Ritchie, and I are DJing at Liar's Club for Bomb Squad Thursday tonight! Vinyl Ritchie and I will be switching between levels while DJZZ stays safely ensconced in the upstairs lounge.

Nuttiness shall ensue.

Eight down, forty-four to go.

Eight down, forty-four to go.

You Shall Know Our Velocity!
by Dave Eggers

Well, this isn't going very well, is it? I'd say I'm more than a wee bit behind. Part of that was due to the fact that I just couldn't give up my news / current event / culture magazine habit, so a lot of my reading time has been hijacked. And up until last weekend I was only about 100 pages into You Shall Know Our Velocity!, but a trip to the farm house in Michigan rectified that problem and allow me to speed through the rest of the book. It's amazing what some peace and quiet will do for your reading habits.

So, the book. I am not a member of the Dave Eggers cult. I do not worship at his altar. I have not ever been able to really get into his breakthrough, A Heartbreaking Work Of Staggering Genius, partially due to the fact that every time I open it my friend Julie's voice appears in my ear going on and on and on and on about how she went to high school with him. And Vince Vaughn. Who cares?

Moving on, it should be noted that the version of YSKOV! I read was the paperback version, complete with a middle section penned by someone other than the narrator, that calls the narrators accounting of the events into question. This is important.

At it's most basic, the tale is of two friends grieving a third and distributing money in exotic locales in an effort to deal with their loss and come to grips with human interplay on Earth. Once you cast that basic story into doubt, though, you unearth a story of one man's attempts to grapple with another death, or a character you long thought alive, and his lashings out at his best friend, but giving himself a beating whose blame can be laid at his traveling companion / best friend's feet.

I'll admit I probably would have been happier had Eggers not pulled the rug out from under me 2/3 of the way through the novel. But it would have been a happiness akin to that felt by folks that think New Order's "Love Vigilantes" is a tale of a man's reunion with his family.* Instead, the rug-pulling posits a whole slew of questions, creating turbulence in waters I thought I had already mastered. It was a bit of a parlor trick, but it was a well executed parlor trick.

I guess that's the way I feel about the whole book. Sometimes the story seems to be merely a contraption upon which to lay some of Egger's better sentences and metaphors. And other time the book just comes across as a rollicking adventure story. In the end I enjoyed both readings, so much so that I might even attempt a return to AHWOSG, despite Julie's phantom methods of driving me from those pages.

But first, I have a whole pile of other books to tackle as we race towards the end of the year.

*I will never forgive myself of robbing that reading of the song from Photogal. It was worse than telling a little kid there is no Easter Bunny / Santa Claus, because I was robbing her of a song that used to fill her with happiness and hope. Sometimes it's better to just keep your mouth shut.

Your booty, and how to shake it.

Your booty, and how to shake it.

Tonight I present a show at Elbo Room. I know I swore off doing any shows until after festival season but I was called upon to help friends of friends, and in doing so was able to include actual friends and an old favorite. I've done many shows at Elbo Room, but this will be my first one since the new talent buyer took over, so we'll see how it goes. I always get nervous when a new guy takes over a room, but I've worked with the rest of the staff there over the years and they've always been nothing less than fabulous, so I'm sure it will go well.

Something else I've noticed, since I ramped down the booking over the summer, is that a number of people have approached me to show their appreciation for what I do. Apparently promoting is a lot harder than they thought, and they're kind of right. It can be tough. But as long as you stick to your guns, work with the people you want to, and pick your shows judiciously it can be incredibly rewarding too. And sometimes you even make a little money!

Anyway, tonight's bill is.

TONIGHT
at
Elbo Room

Tankboy presents:
The Midnight Shows
Lovers In Transit
Ash In Pensacola

Doors: 8:00 p.m.
Show: 9:00 p.m.
$8 cover
It really should be a lovely time. And then I DJ tomorrow. And then ... aw hell, Wicker Park Fest is this weekend too. You may as well just give in, start drinking tonight, and come up for air sometime Monday morning.

And yes, I have been waiting for MONTHS to use that photo of Rudy and a gorilla from Ten56.

According to Gina ...

According to Gina ...

...these cats are going to fuck you up.


I think she may be right.

Historical Moments In History: Metro 25th Anniversary

Historical Moments In History: Metro 25th Anniversary

We got to the party late, and missed the faux-historical video, but after hearing everyone talk about what a riot it was, I'm glad it popped up online.

Click To Play

The fragility of sound.

The fragility of sound.

Sound overpowers. It crushes. It can envelop. It can tickle. But it can also break and leave us in an underwater world of mute isolation.

I've been through punishing environs, and my ears haven't failed me yet. But I think they've finally met with their most dangerous opponent, my drumming. You see, as our set list progresses, and we play songs more frequently, my confidence grows. As that grows, so does my willingness to take chances and hit a few more fills, or add in a cymbal crash here or there, and so grows the intensity behind each swing of the stick, since I grow ever more sure that the resulting thwack is going to fall in the right place.

I should have been prepared for the volume, but I don't remember it being so loud the last time I spent a good deal of time behind the kit. My ears must be growing older, more fragile, more precious; and I think it's time I made sure that they remained my friend and started protecting them from the noise.

Immediately, I'm going to run out and grab some ear plugs, but in the long run I'm going to do what someone who hangs around as much live music as I do should have done years ago and get a custom pair on in-ear plugs*. I already have one recommendations, but if anyone out there has a guy who's made them a pair they were happy with in the past, drop me a line and send me their contact info via email or in the comments.

I love the noise I'm making, when the washes over me, and inhabits me, and throbs from inside my own chest, and I just want to make sure it continues to do so well into my own dotage.

*And if there someone that can make a pair that functions both as standard plugs and as sleeved for my Shure E4c plugs, that would be super awesome. Or someone that would make both and give a discount if they're both created at the same time.

Criminally Overlooked: Hushdrops.

Criminally Overlooked: Hushdrops.

I'm sure every city is littered with great bands that just, for whatever reason, never took off. Sometimes it's just bad timing, or lack of exposure, or the simple fact that the gods seem fond of cruel jokes and often raise up the unworthy while holding down the excellent.

Chicago's Hushdrops are certainly well connected, leader John San Juan's "Summer People" was covered by The Webb Brothers and became a minor hit overseas. San Juan and fellow Hushdrop Joe Camarillo are both unbelievably talented musicians that can have performed in an astounding number of other bands over the years, but Hushdrops was always their baby.

The band's love of both The Beatles and the Who is evident in their songs, with both influences making their presence known without ever overtaking San Juan's own personal tone. His sweetly melancholic verses often go hand in hand with sunny pop choruses, while clean keyboard tones embed themselves amid the fuzzed out guitar lines. The end result is modern pop with a classic pulse, and songs that would have been breakout hits in a bygone era, and could still be hits once the future catches up to them.

Take a listen to two of my own favorites from Hushdrops' first (and only currently available) album, Volume One. if they pique your interest, and I'm sure they will, feel free to pick up your own copy and help a criminally overlooked band gain the recognition they so richly deserve.

MP3: Hushdrops "Emily"
MP3: Hushdrops "Doctor V"

Pulling "The Sneak" since 1989.

Pulling "The Sneak" since 1989.

I would apologize to anyone that turned around to find me missing last night -- Rudy, Rick, Justin, Keep, PP, etc. -- but y'all should know by now that when I'm ready to leave, I leave!

Also, I was a little freaked out by Peter Hook spinning New Order songs to a mostly empty room at the Metro birthday party last night, until I realized that I should probably be reveling in the fact that Peter Hook was spinning New Order songs to a mostly empty room with me being one of the few enjoying it. Also, was every other song he spun penned by or involved with Damon Albarn? It sure seemed like it, not that I was complaining.

O.K., gotta practice so I can get this new (old) song down for tonight's practice. It actually appears as if well be ready to play sooner than I thought, and Keep is already working on putting together our grand "coming out" bill. Of course I suspect we'll play a few secret shows before then to get our feet wet, and work the kinks (but not the kinkiness) out of the set, but I can't tell you about those because they're, well, y'know, secret.

Hm, maybe I should hit the gym today too ... nah, it's too nice out and it's too late in the day. I'll just stick with working a sweat up through the drumming.

Why are adults walking around Oak Park in capes and wizard hats?

Why are adults walking around Oak Park in capes and wizard hats?

Oh yeah, Harry Potter.

Dorks.

Hipster bars pretending to be dive bars.

Hipster bars pretending to be dive bars.

This week's issue of Time Out Chicago is built around the theme of dive bars, and while most of the content in this special report is disposable, they do have one incredibly funny list of things to look for to discern when a dive bar is actually a hipster bar in disguise. What's even funnier is that I know every single bar each of the rules are calling out.

Also featured is the terrific Ola's, but so help me, if Time Out Chicago suddenly makes that place hip and popular -- the way Rolling Stone ruined Tuman's (although, admittedly, that place was a dive bar rescued by hipsters ... and then overrun by tie-wearing suburbanites before being sold and re-tooled into another faceless room for the affluent white kids in the area) -- I'm launching an all-out assault on their offices.

Replace "Smashing Pumpkins" with "Kill Hannah" and you can virtually see history repeating itself.

Replace "Smashing Pumpkins" with "Kill Hannah" and you can virtually see history repeating itself.

From that Steve Albini thread (and for God's sake, feel free to read the posts, but don't join just to pester him with a question):

In Chicago in the late 1980s, there began to develop a kind of budding professionalism that struck us in the punk/underground scene as distasteful: Bands with managers, publicists and other agents were encroaching on a self-made scene that had previously been by, for and about the bands themselves.

The Smashing Pumpkins personified this creeping professionalism, having a management relationship with a creepy local music business player who was also responsible for booking the biggest venue in town. As a result, any decent touring band that came through town would have the Smashing Pumpkins added to the bill as a support act. This was rightfully seen as an imposition, and patrons learned to arrive at the Metro an hour later than usual in order to miss them. It isn't overstating things to say they were something of a joke in Chicago -- a band imposed on an existing audience by the music business rather than a band building its natural audience through accretion.

The world catches up to Steve Albini.

The world catches up to Steve Albini.

I like Steve Albini. He's always been unfailingly polite when I've encountered him, even though I once drove him out of Club Foot with my song selections when I was DJing there years ago (or so the owner told me). He often gets a raw deal for supposedly being an asshole, but I chalk that up to the fact that he was one of the only folks willing to tell it like it is way back when. Nowadays more people are aware of the idiocy of the music biz, so Albini appears as if he's mellowed, even though it's actually just the times catching up to him.

Anyway, this thread with Albini answering just about any and all questions posed to him has been going on for a while (I'm guessing things are quiet at E.A.R. right now?), but this is by far my favorite response (click the image to enlarge and read).


Don't get me wrong, I love Urge Overkill, but it's no secret that they barely appeared on their own Major label break-through album, even though no one seems willing to talk about it.

Hideout "Bloc" Party.

Hideout "Bloc" Party.

I can't stop giggling over the fact that Hideout got Bloc Party to play their annual block party. How awesome is that? It's the one fest I don't try to snake my way into via press pass*, since all profits get donated to various Chicago charities. Photogal and I bought our tickets today, and I suggest you do the same too, pronto, since this event ALWAYS sells out.

*I do try to work my mojo to get VIP access, though, since that unleashes the font of free beer!

UPDATE: Art Brut and Dan Deacon have been added to the bill. BUY YOUR TICKETS NOW!

This is what a busy evening amongst the world of "the connected" looks like.

This is what a busy evening amongst the world of "the connected" looks like.

Last night I attended a pre-Lollapalooza "media party," and whilst it was a lovely time, I'm still not completely sure what any of the attendees (save one) had to do with music. Or media. I can tell you that the cocktails at Violet Hour are delish (in fact I need to take Photogal there since with the fabulous drinks and the no smoking policy this place could be in the running for her new favorite bar in Chicago) and the third salon looks like someones open and airy drawing room. I kept looking around for Colonel Mustard, suspicious.

Then it was off to see Great Northern and The Comas. Since I never seem to be able to get a handle on Subterranean's show schedules, I got there about halfway through Great Northern's set. I live their album and it's airy washes of sound, but they are a completely different band live: they are all brutish walls of noise sans nuance, but since I love that whole shoegaze thing I still thought what I saw was fab.

I'm new to The Comas bandwagon -- they are on, what, their fourth album? -- but they were phenomenal live. One of those shows that blasts through my usually critically jaded veil of ennui to get my ass moving in directions that I'm sure were embarrassing to my friend accompanying me to the show. I almost bought a t-shirt, they were so good.

And I've decided that their guitarist Nicole Gehweiler (along with the gal from Birds Of Avalon) is in the running for the official "Tankboy's Hottest Women in Rock 2007."

Cute
+
a great voice
+
handling lead guitar duties for the majority of the set
=
HOTTT

Then I made my way to Double Door where I received advice on where to purchase custom-made earplugs (due to my drumming style I realize they have moved from the category of luxury to the category of necessity) and discovered that in Night Of The Living Dead, Barbara should really just run and keep running.

The evening ended with a hot dog and a nightcap at Debonair, prompting the following comment, "We really should spin here, because then maybe they'd have a crowd." This is not to say the kids DJing were bad, although they did seem content to let their laptop playlists do most of the work while they hung with friends, this is merely to say that outside of Thursday - Saturday, Debonair still seems to be having some difficulty finding their niche.

A cab ride in which my partner in crime for the evening and I argued over who lived closer and should therefore be dropped off first, ensued. And then I arrived home (second, having lost the previous battle), cuddled with Photogal / the pups / the kitten ...and went to bed.

The end.

One final thought about the Pitchfork Music Festival ...

One final thought about the Pitchfork Music Festival ...

My Pitchfork Musical Festival pieces have brought the usual amount of negative commenters out of the woodwork, slamming hipster / indie kids and their ilk. The thing that these folks are missing is that the whole hipster thing is largely a suburban myth. Sure, I saw a few kids in gym shorts, or white belts, or leg-warmers; but mostly I saw folks in shorts and t-shirts that looked just like every other person you would pass on the street on any given day.

The truth of the matter is that the bands Pitchfork trumpets aren't really underground anymore. Heck, Pitchfork isn't even underground, and one could make the argument that now they're actually part of the establishment. And the people that read Pitchfork, well, they extend far beyond the independent record store clerks and late-night club kids. In fact they look an awful lot like you, and me, and that guy working out at the gym next to you, and the girl working the customer service line at that law firm. Indie rock is now mainstream, and there's no escaping that simple truth. So for folks to blindly rip on a music festival largely, it appears, based on their perceptions of who bought tickets, seems ignorant, at best.

That's pretty underground all right.

That's pretty underground all right.

My sincere thanks to the Chicagoist commenter who pointed me towards this video. It's frickin' hilarious, even though I think its denizens would be categorized as being more emo / goth than straight-up Pitchfork hipster.



Which reminds me, my final Pitchfork overview and wrap-up is up now.

Not really M.I.A., if you really think about it.

Not really M.I.A., if you really think about it.

It might seem like I haven't been around, and haven't been writing, but if you consider the thousands of words I've dropped on Pitchfork on Chicagoist over the last week you'd realize I'm actually in a blossoming period, and not in retreat. I've also accomplished the previously unimaginable task of actually catching up with all my magazine reading (goodbye mammoth stack of Atlantics!) and have been nose, well eyebrow actually, deep in books in the sorry attempt to catch up to my 52 books in 52 weeks goal. Admittedly, it' looking like 26 books in 52 weeks might be more realistic at this point, but I'll press forward and fit as many in as possible.

I've also been grappling with some serious musical ennui, that sort where all the new stuff sounds unexciting and there's so much old stuff I can't ever decide exactly what it is I want to listen to. The Girl Talk set Saturday started to crack that restlessness, but got cut off before the shell finally broke apart. (And I'm only now realizing how lucky I was to be next to the stage with a nice view and good sound, since I've heard that beyond a couple hundred feet diameter, no one could really hear Greg Gillis' outstanding set.)

I enjoyed all the bands this weekend, and I still love writing about music -- don't get me wrong -- I'm just going through one of those aural funks where I'm just waiting for the right noise to bring me back to the surface and break through the meniscus to gulp in sweet earfuls to re-awaken my soul.

Lollapalooza, I'm looking at your overflowing cornucopia to deliver the shock treatment my heart needs and reignite the passion in my long-term love affair. I'm betting Daft Punk at sunset just might do the trick ...

Pitchfork Day Three.

Pitchfork Day Three.

Wow, back to work today. Last Friday seems like it was years ago, fuzzy in the way high school memories are fuzzy. The Pitchfork Music Festival day three recap is up, but one thing I'm noticing that I haven't written about yet is that a) people felt it was too big / had lost that special something this year and b) maybe the festival organizers really need to rethink their stance on the "no re-entry" issue.

Pitchfork Day Two.

Pitchfork Day Two.

Read all about it. The MOST amazing thing about yesterday. I stayed away from the beer and downed lots of water. It wasn't really a conscious decision, since beer lines were insanely long (even at tents where I knew people working) and the bathroom lines were even longer. However that at least made my walk from the festival grounds all the way back to Wicker Park before finally catching a cab somewhat bearable.

Pitchfork Day One.

Pitchfork Day One.

So here's a question, if Mark Ibold came out to play bass with Sonic Youth yesterday, does that mean Stephen Malkmus maybe isn't playing totally solo tomorrow? Read my thoughts on day one at Chicagoist, and check out the photos I took of Sonic Youth while you're at it.

Still got to write up the Spoon show later last night at Schubas too!

O.K. everyone, take a deep breath ...

O.K. everyone, take a deep breath ...

... because I don't anticipate coming up for air before the end of the weekend.

I might surprise me (and you) but don't count on anything besides my Pitchfork preview before Monday.

Three sexy men, one sexy bar.

Three sexy men, one sexy bar.

I'm back in the Bomb Squad Thursday rotation at Liar's Club this week, and tonight my guests will be DJ Rudy Tuesday and Josh LaScala. It's been a while since Rudy and I last teamed up, so I'm looking forward to that. I also wait with great anticipation to hear Josh's selections, since my other Squadders have ranted and raved about about him. Between my co-DJs, folks visiting in from out of town for the weekend, and the pre-Pitchfork Fest party crowd, I'm expecting this to be a pretty fun evening.

Pup Phil helps me chillax.

Pup Phil helps me chillax.

I'm in the middle of putting together a PowerPoint presentation (I don't really do PPT, but I have to give a talk about stuff relating to my industry tomorrow) so to take a break from the tedium, I decided to do a stupid iPod list thingie, for the hell of it. Maybe it'll clear my head.

How many songs: 14,023
First song: !!! "Must Be The Moon"
Last song: ZZ Top "Legs (Rock Shock Remix)"
Shortest: The "Dante's Lament" bit from Clerks
Longest: LCD Soundsystem "45:33"
Five most played songs:

1. Justin Timberlake "My Love (Diplo Remix)"
2. Riverboat Gamblers "Biz Loves Sluts"
3. The Picture "So Many Days"
4. The Safes "Fairy Tale Tomorrow"
5. TV On The Radio "Wolf Like Me"

First song that comes up on shuffle: Josie & The Pussycats "Real Wild Child"

Well, that was kind of lame, but it did give me a break. But I'm still trying to figure something out: How the heck did Pup Phil find my blog? People I went to school with down in Normal, IL wouldn't know the "Tankboy" moniker ...

Time Out Chicago and my taste of what's to come with the 'Fork Festival ...

Time Out Chicago and my taste of what's to come with the 'Fork Festival ...

I, and a couple of other fine music writers / bloggers, were asked to weigh in with some of our Pitchfork Music Festival superlatives. I think it's funny that I tell people to skip Yoko and the very next writer, Anne from Transmission, says Yoko is the can't miss set. Everyone has good points, though, and it's a fine read. Check it out.

The 'Fork Fest.

The 'Fork Fest.

Still swamped, sorry. Part of it is (well, most of it is) day-time job related, but another hefty portion of my off-the-clock time is being taken up with putting together the Chicagoist Pitchfork Music Festival preview. I'm looking really forward to this weekend, since it should be filled with good friends, great bands, and days that bleed into nights that bleed into days that like boys to be girls who do boys like they're girls who do girls like they're boys ... hrm, seem to have struck off on a tangent there.

Anyway, quick poll: Who all is heading to the Pitchfork Music Festival this weekend? Going all three days? Just two? Just one? Gonna buy me a beer? Or finagle me a V.I.P. pass to supplement my press credentials? Who're you most psyched to see?

Answer via email or in the comments, kids.

OK Stereogum.

OK Stereogum.

Major fucking kudos to Stereogum for their track-by-track cover compilation of Radiohead's OK Computer. And considering its impressive contributors include Sterogum faves The Twilight Sad, Cold War Kids, John Vanderslice, and Doveman, I'm really looking forward to hearing this.

Even more impressive is that they were able to keep it under wraps until launch!

Get it while it's hotter than Mims.

UPDATE: Now that I've given it a proper listen, I still think it's worth downloading, as long as you understand that it is, like just about every other tribute disc ever made, pretty uneven. But definitely interesting. It's also worth pointing out that almost all the bands all end up kind of taking the same stripped down approach to their own arrangements of the songs. In my mind, it ties in with my own thoughts about what's wrong with indie rock today (and sort of explains the intense ennui I've been feeling the past few weeks, at a time of year when I'm usually most psyched about music).

The compilation is certainly an audacious and admirable effort, but in the end it all ends up sounding the same.

Safe from sticky fingers and sniffing dogs.

Safe from sticky fingers and sniffing dogs.

Yesterday I bought the little beauty you see to your right, there. I've been in the market for a laptop case since, well, since I bought my laptop last year* and have been needing a case to carry it around in.

Duh.

The need has become more pressing since I'm spending so many weekends in Michigan at our farmhouse, and I like to bring my computer along on the off chance we make it into town and hit a Wi-Fi friendly establishment (which happens rarely) or if I want to just settle down and watch a DVD, instead of the stars, at night (which hasn't happened yet).

Also, with the music festival one-two punch of Pitchfork and Lollapalooza, I knew I was going to need something sturdy to carry my laptop around in if I was going to try and get any writing done whilst actually at the festivals. In previous years I've always gone the old fashioned route of pen, paper, and camera; but since I have the means, why not ditch the ink and go straight to digital, huh?

(Of course, now that I think of it, I don't think Pitchfork has internet connections for the press, but I know Lolla does. I just read through my email and learned that Pitchfork will indeed have wireless connectivity. Huzzah! Now if I could just wrangle a VIP pass everything would be perfectly in line for this weekend ...)

Luckily for me, I found a bag that fit the ticket to a T (the only thing that would have made it better would be if it had a cooling unit to keep the 'puter safe from the summer heat) and it just so happened it was on sale this week at a pretty hefty discount. Bonus! The only thing I don't like about the bag is that it has two straps you can unzip to turn the whole thing into a regular backpack -- which is actually nifty -- but the when the straps aren't being used they kind of bunch up along the back. I've got to figure out some way to solve that problem short of just cutting 'em off.

So, yeah, I got a bag for my laptop. Sorry, that's all the time we have today. You'll just have to wait until tomorrow to hear about the 100+ bats living rent free in our Michigan farmhouse, or of Photogal's introduction** to a genuine back-country farm auction.


*And, as an aside, am I glad i didn't wait until after Vista was released to get a new laptop since it sounds like Vista would have probably driven me insane by now.
**Why not my introduction? Because I use to live in Texas and, for a spell, my mom worked for an auctioneer down there, so I've seen all types of auctions.

Lil Mama, early "Summer Jam" of 2007 contender.

Lil Mama, early "Summer Jam" of 2007 contender.

In response to JB's plea for suggestions, might I offer the following as an early contender to become the "Summer Jam" of 2007. No matter that I've been spinning this particularly tasty piece of bubblegum hip-hop since February, apparently people* are just now getting wise to the wiles of Lil Mama, but that's O.K. with me.


*And by people I mean mainstream radio. Not "people" as cool and in-the-know as you are, dear reader..

Catching up.

Catching up.

Wow, being in the wilds of Michigan (O.K., really just the back-country roads) with no internerd for a few days really threw me behind schedule on an unusually busy week. Hopefully I can recap our madcap weekend adventures tomorrow before bearing down to preview and prep for the Pitchfork Music Festival this weekend. Between band practice last night, band practice tomorrow, DJing Thursday, and Photogal's dad visiting from out-of-town I suspect I will have zero to non free time.

Yay!

Coming up for air!

Coming up for air!

Wow, that's the longest I've been offline in, well, a really long time. And what an adventure. More later.

Jon Brion at Hideout ... now everyone can enjoy the show!

Jon Brion at Hideout ... now everyone can enjoy the show!

Remember when I saw Jon Brion play at Hideout a few months ago? I ranted and raved about it to friends for quite a while afterwards, and the phrase that kept popping up in my description was, "I really wish you could've been there, or at least heard it!" Well, for folks that didn't score tickets to see him in the very cozy confines of Hideout, a recording of the show has finally surfaced. I was only there for the first half of the evening or so, since I had to cover another band playing across town that night, but listening to this recording I really wish I had stuck around all night.

To truly understand what a marvel it was to see Jon Brion live, download the set, and cue up the ten-minute version of The Girl I Knew." Listen to it, but visual Brion playing all of the instruments. You can hear him build the track playing drums, looping that and then moving on to piano, looping that, and moving onto bass, and so on. And when all that noise is galloping through your ears realize that in the end there is just a single man standing stage center, attacking his guitar and riding the wave of a wall of music he built brick by brick -- live and in front of us -- all by himself.

Fucking mind boggling.

M4A: John Brion live at Hideout March 11, 2007

Jon Brion photo by Jennifer Brandel

What'd I think about The Police last night?

What'd I think about The Police last night?

Find out here.

FULL DISCLOSURE FOR LOYAL TANKBOY READERS: As the set went on I truly began to worry. Brief flashes of brilliance got buried under mounds of noodling. But a ROCK solid encore(s) including searing renditions of "So Loney" (my favorite song EVER, and they did not fuck it up) and "Next To You" made the whole night abso-fuckingly-lutely worth the price of admission.

Sting, Andy, and Stewart.

Sting, Andy, and Stewart.

Well, tonight is the night. It's safe to say that this is the concert of the year for me, as far as anticipation goes. The Police have long been one of my favorite bands, but they were also one I thought had less chance of reuniting than even Pink Floyd. Looks like I was wrong on both counts.

My primary worry, and I think this is probably one shared by anyone who shelled out the beucoup dollars for tickets, is that there is no way that the actual band can live up to the expectations created by the band that's been living in my head, represented by a handful of albums, a few videos, and a smattering of concert footage. With those minimal tools I've been able to build up something that the real trio might have problems besting.

In the end though I'm not really expecting them to be earth-shatteringly awesome. The reality is that I'm going to see three pretty old guys play music from another era to a crowd of folks who wants nothing more from them. I'm thankful that the band is open about the tour being a cash cow for them, a nostalgia trip for us, and that we won't have to put up with any "new" songs like you would at a Rolling Stones concert.

And I'm totally O.K. with that.

P.S. A huge thanks and heartfelt smooches to Photogal who, when tickets went on sale, stepped forward and bought them for me as an early birthday present.

P.P.S. Stewart, you might want to ditch the headband. Loves you anyway though.

Boom.

Boom.

Kinda wish I had tomorrow off.

The more things change ...

The more things change ...

Whilst I still have no photos to speak of displaying the newly shorn Tankboy, here's an oldie Kip just sent me, and I'm posting since it's pretty much exactly what I look like right now. Oddly, Kip and Maggie also look pretty much the same now as they did in this picture ... taken two years ago. We all love Dorian Gray, what can I say?

Also, you will note I picked an especially flattering photo of myself just for Tammy.

Pros and Cons of the ol' haircut.

Pros and Cons of the ol' haircut.

CONS:

• Chances of Stephen Malkmus dedicating that one line of "Range Life" to me greatly reduced.
• Skanky tattooed metal girls less likely to try and mack on me.
• Visiting music fans / writers will have a harder time picking me out of the crowd when they come into town for Pitchfork / Lollapalooza.
• Doormen now think my ID is fake. This is not helped by already looking about ten years younger than my birthdate says I am ... and short hair shaves another couple of years off.
• No longer able to nervously braid my hair as a time-killer.

PROS:

• No longer filled with fear of being mistaken for a hippy.
• Summer humidity no longer leads to me looking like Bozo the Clown.
• Random people will cease just randomly running their fingers through my hair.
• Chances of being mistaken for Jesus greatly reduced.
• I have cheeks! Who knew?!
• Photogal thinks I look much cuter now so chances of "gettin' some action" greatly increased!
• Now I can call Kip a "slacker long-hair."
• My mother is oh-so pleased.
• Re-discovered I have my ears pierced a whole bunch.
  
• My blue eyes seem a LOT bluer!
• No longer tempted to imitate a lion and eat people's heads:
  

My thoughts on the Zeitgeist, not that you really care.

My thoughts on the Zeitgeist, not that you really care.

In fact, I'm a bit mystified that anyone is paying attention to the new Billy Corgan solo jawn Smashing Pumpkins album. Granted, the fact that Corgan played just about everything on every Smashing Pumpkins disc except drums pretty fully explains why the new disc sounds like, well, The Smashing Pumpkins.

At the same time, it sounds pretty bereft if the old inspiration that made Corgan's over-the-top theatrics stomachable in the first place.

It ain't bad, it ain't good, it ain't ain't ... it just is.

I think I still prefer Zwan, since at least then you heard someone pushing against the Great Pumpkin. But hey, if you're still pining for the Pumpkins for some reason, Zeitgeist is a reasonable facsimile.

MP3: The Smashing Pumpkins "7 Shades Of Black"

Memories.

Memories.

Keep, me, and a mane.

To everyone I saw this weekend ...

To everyone I saw this weekend ...

Thanks for making this birthday boy feel very loved!

Extra special thanks to all the bands and my Bomb Sqaud mates for providing one hell of a weekend soundtrack! And to my long-suffering girlfriend for putting up with what for her was four straight days of birthday revelry since she had to attend every single event.

My birthday was kind of like this.

My birthday was kind of like this.


And this.


And this.


And that was all just the early side of last night, night two of Tankapalooza, an amazing weekend of kick-ass bands. I'm lucky to be me.

Also, thanks for learning those Who covers, kids, and plastering a smile on my puss that just wouldn't quit.

Photo be Lee.