Keep, Fagballs, and I will be spinning at The Burlington tomorrow night.
I'll give you a head start though: The Democrat's should adopt a winner-take-all strategy for their primary system in the future, because if that was the case, Hillary would have secured the nom months ago. Now we're stuck with a presumptive candidate who keeps falling in the polls. And worse? I was at a BBQ last weekend that was populated by a rather liberal crowd, and my sneaky informal polling revealed that most of them have already made pease with the idea of a McCain presidency.
Seriously, I should not be allowed to use my phone after midnight. In ye olden days late night phone shenanigans were severely limited by the fact that you, well, actually had to call the other person and you might wake them up. But now you can just text away to your little heart's delight ... sometimes accumulating a book's worth of embarrassing messages before the other person even knows you're trying to get their attention.
I just finished reading Mitch Myers' The Boy Who Cried Freebird late last night, and while I thought the book as a whole was merely O.K.*, there was one really great quote held within an essay Meyers wrote about Richard Meltzer. The quote comes from Dave Marsh -- whom I've always thought was kind of a tool, but here he really nails it -- when he's asked about his own thoughts on what it's like to be a music critic. Marsh says:People think being a rock critic is easy, well, maybe for two years. After that, you're on your mettle.Lots of folks gripe about the rise of the critical backwash provided by too many voices vying for attention in today's online landscape. Hell, I've even complained about it in the past, and wondered what effect all these "critics" would ultimately have on the discipline of rock criticism. But Marsh gets it right ... most of these folks won't last. They can't last. I've been writing about rock and/or roll since about 1989, and it ain't always easy. After the initial rush of realizing someone is reading your opinion, for most folks there comes a point where they wonder what more they really have to say on the subject. And then there comes the realization that while someone is reading what you have to say, there's always the question if what you say actually matters to that someone.
Steinski is releasing a "career retrospective" compilation today. I heard it last week and say if you're into his mixes and creations, it's worth picking up, especially since he hasn't exactly stayed put and it ranges across a couple labels.
It bears repeating that this year is just stupendously, ridonkulously, incredibly terrific as far as new music is involved. Just this week I've gotten stellar discs from Sloan, The Dandy Warhols, Air Traffic, and The Futureheads!
CONCLUSION: While Betty certainly does bark, I am no longer buying the story that she barks all day long when I DO leave her at home. I DO believe that she used to, but I think she's gotten past that point, at least during daylight hours. At night I can't make the mistake of not sedating her. I didn't back at the beginning of the month and greeted my brand new neighbors with the sounds of her barking madly all through the night ... thus setting her up to be the future scapegoat for any other barking. Totally my bad.
How weird, especially since I was just writing about the Red Hot Chili Peppers out of the blue just last week, but NME is reporting that the band has broken up! 
Tonight I'm back in the booth for Bomb Squad Thursday at Liar's Club, and this week I'm joined by the Hos Before Bros DJs. To be honest, I'm not even sure how many of the Hos Before Bros ladies I'm facing tonight. I know Lizz (Chicagoist / No Dessert For You / UR Chicago) and Marah (Touch & Go) will be there for sure, but there may be another couple DJs joining them.
A co-worker came by my desk yesterday looking for some new music. She had asked earlier if I had a few albums she was interested in, so she could give them a listen before buying them, and when she came by to borrow them she was a bit taken aback by the stacks of CDs on the shelves next to me. I bring a lot of music to work to play in the background so I can decide what to give a closer listen to later on, and what isn't really worth writing about.
Sometimes I think of my brain as a well-tuned computer adept at processing music. But when the current task is done, and the preview is written, or the show has been reviewed, the album is filed away in a storage server where it can be recalled when needed but is always present to provide context for the next review.
In other news, the Chicagoist team waked away from the 2nd Annual Alternative Media Slam with the grand prize trophy after crushing both Red Eye and Time Out Chicago. (O.K., TOC actually had me worried since that was a pretty close match, but Red Eye proved once again that the MSM (they kept trying to use their affiliation with The Trib as some sort of defense) is largely clueless when it come to both new media and yo mama jokes.) afterwards I went on the town with most of my A&E writers whereupon they got introduced to whiskey-soaked Tankboy. The evening ended at Underbar, but keeping true to my rule about 4 a.m. bars, I went outside for a smoke and ended up hopping in a cab. The aftereffects? I'm quoting my writer Marcus here:I'm typing this at Underbar courtesy of their fabulous WiFi connection since Ali and I are still here, wondering where the hell Jim went! He was here about 16 hours ago; the last we saw of him, he was walking outside to smoke, I guess, but never came back. Poor Ali's curled up on the floor in the fetal position, rocking back and forth, muttering, "Jim will be back, Jim will be back, Jim will be back..."Funny kid, huh? So sad it's all true. In my defense I did see Ali the next night at the Air Traffic show -- wow, were they surprisingly good -- that supposedly counted Johnny Depp among its attendees. If only I could have confirmed that fact and hooked her up with him, all would have been forgiven. Oh well, at least I could confirm Ali was no longer in the fetal position.
Anyway, thanks again, and as soon as Jim shows back up, we'll finish our drinks, hop in a cab and get home so I can do a post on Monday.
I hate it* when a band releases my favorite song off their album as a single.
I missed bingo at The Burlington last night -- thanks for listing the wrong time Nixon! -- so I didn't have a chance to beat my bingo nemesis. Next time Melissa, you're going down! And then I found out that the Local H afterparty was headed to the bar. I love Local H, but portions of their crowd freak me out. Luckily the folks that did show up were cool. And Rick Ness and JSJ popped in, and I hadn't had a chance to really chat with either in forever, so that was nice. And I saw Jen who regaled me with a story of bad dog owners causing her pooch distress, but luckily the tale had a happy ending.
In Chicago they're trying to shove through a new ordinance that would force independent promoters to purchase a "promoter's license" and insure their events even if they're promoting an event in a venue that's already insured. This would put me out of the promotion business. Local blogs and fanzines would no longer be able to book a bill at Double Door or Hideout. Fundraisers would cease to exist.
I've had a chance to listen to most of the new Weezer and I admit I'm pleased with the majority of it. The first five tracks are the bands strongest opening salvo since Pinkerton. In fact, the best tunes on this disc sound like Pinkerton and The Blue Album had a baby. It also comes across as the most personal Rivers Cuomo album since, here comes that name again, Pinkerton. The opening trio of "Troublemaker," "The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)," and "Pork And Beans" are all ruminations of stardom, and the fourth song "Heart Songs" outlines Cuomo's development as a music fan into a full fledged musician. Things remain strong until "Thought I Knew," sung by 
The Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Warped" came on at the gym yesterday and I guess I never realized just what a weird little hybrid of a song it is. It came from the single album with Dave Navarro on guitar, and it sounds a LOT like Jane's Addiction, only I didn't really think so at the time. Especially the little chorus nits with the cascading guitar lines. And of course the solo.
Sorry Hillary, it's over.
I met the guys in The Milwaukees years ago through Woolworthy. I can't remember if the bands shared a label, or if they had toured together, or what, but I've kept in touch with The Milwaukees -- who are actually located in New Jersey -- over the years. There last album was titled American Anthems Vol. 1 and it was a raucous dose of rock and/or roll Minneapolis stylee -- yes, I'm just going totally location name-happy here -- that got a couple spins on the tankPOD.*
Well, kind of.
As I predicted, Nine Inch Nails have released their new album The Slip, via download, and entirely free. 
Maybe it's the weather's refusal to just repel all the remaining cold to finally definitely usher in the Spring? Maybe it's the residual ripples of readjusting to living in an apartment on my own? Maybe it's the extra $400 a month ($4,800 a year!) spent on Betty's daycare that is making it near impossible to keep ends meeting that's doing it? Maybe it's the feeling that I never have enough time to stop and relax long enough to actually read a single book all the way through; instead I keep munching and snapping at bits and pieces of novels, trying to fit them in amongst the never ending stream of RSS feeds, magazines, and newspapers?
It was almost ten years ago I accepted the job as talent buyer at The Note, with my only condition being that I be allowed book rock bands and phase out the jazz, swing, and funk bands. No offense to any of those genres, it just wasn't what I wanted to book 7 nights a week. In fact it was at The Note that I met the guys I'm currently in a band with, although it took them about seven years to pick my drum sticks back up.