On writing (about music).

On writing (about music).

I'm seeing more post on "how to be a music writer" or "this music writer sucks" or "what's the point of writing about music" and while I have no definitive answers to those prompts (well, I do, but saying "definitive" makes me sound like a pompous ass) I reckoned I could at least share my viewpoints on the matter.

HOW TO BE A MUSIC WRITER

Step one, love music. Step two, write about it. That's it, there is no step three. If your question is "how to be a music writer an make money at it" then my humble opinion is that you're not passionate about it. Once upon a time music criticism was valuable enough to make a living but nowadays -- seriously? -- it's far more difficult and far less (materially but far more spiritually, at least for me, as someone whose been doing this for over 20 years) rewarding.

THIS MUSIC WRITER SUCKS

Almost without fail, if someone has enough recognition to be widely known as a "prominent music writer" they will become full of themselves and become an asshole and their writing will suffer because they will confuse "a firm point of view" with "a wildly inflated sense of self." This happens across all generations. I've seen 40 year vets and whelps that began as MP3 bloggers both succumb to this and in this. I've read awful, just fucking awful, attempts at obtuse writing masquerading as intelligent proclamation. And, yes, I am inclined to think that in this day and age, when people are fighting to differentiate themselves, much music writing has begun to champion bands that truly suck in the rare hope that they will explode and you can plant your flag as having "discovered" them (which, by the way, no one will EVER remember or give you credit for but, yeah, maybe Rolling Stone will employ you to write 75 word news blurbs at some point because you've made a "name" fr yourself). So I agree with you, that music writer sucks. I, however, do not.

WHAT'S THE POINT OF WRITING ABOUT MUSIC

A-ha! Here is the big question! Especially when surrounded by recent posts proclaiming (supposedly from inside the house!) that music writers are self-congratulatory and spew out sentences to tickle each other and not you and, on top of all that, when you can just download a song or an album by a band (FOR FREE) what's the point of reading about music when you can form your own judgements listening? ALL GOOD POINTS.

I write about music because I can't not. Literally. I am lucky enough to have a wide readership through a number of outlets but, jeebis, even if I didn't I'd be writing about what I love because that's what I do. Do I get a kick out of someone recognizing me at a show and admiting they are there because I wrote about the band and convinced them to come and check 'em out? Yes. Do I love hearing someone paid cash money for an album I thought was great and wrote about accordingly? Yes. Do I love reading emails / comments that either 100% agree or 100% disagree with me but are great either way because someone wants to have a discussion about music with me? Yes. Do I love knowing that through years of practice I have finally reached a point where I can write about bands and be entertaining and be intelligent and honest to goodness give people an idea of what a sound sounds like through using nothing more than words? Yes. Do I love that, through reading me, other have started writing about music because "hey, if he can, why can't I?" Yes, yes, YES.

Do what you do because you love it and people will always appreciate it and that's the point.

Timing is everything.

Timing is everything.

Have you ever noticed that illness seems to creep up on you whenever you have any vacation time coming up? I have Friday off and of course yesterday my throat started to tickle and today I can feel my sinuses swelling. And now I can't sleep. And a wise man once said, "What is the deal with that?"

So, since it's hours before even this early riser is usually up, and I don't feel like stringing along coherent sentences at this point, how about I take this chance to remind you off all the other cool places you can hear / read my blathering?

Well, you're here, so you have the longstanding blog (or the RSS feed for the longstanding blog) covered. I'm probably second busiest in 140 characters or less (none of that "extended entry" crap for me, defeats the purpose!) in the land of Twitter, a place I fill with smart aleck remarks and useful links. (And even if you ain't a member, you can still subscribe to my Twitter RSS feed.)

If you're looking for quick quotes, pictures and video that I run across but don't usually post here -- think an attention span somewhere between this place and the Twitters -- then you should be visiting my Tumblr. Good stuff in there, I swear.

Want to know what items I'm reading that I don't have time to write about or link to or quote but want to share with the world by simply ticking a small box? Then my Shared Google Reader page is just for you! Because you can never get too much Tankboy-approved information streams into your life.

And finally, your one-stop shop for my "serious" musical and arts related musings (as well as excellent source for all news, period) is Chicagoist! Read early and often!

You'll let me down and that's OK.

You'll let me down and that's OK.

I woke up this morning to find I had broken my glasses. I must have fallen asleep on theme and popped one of the lenses out. It wasn't a disaster, after some careful re-bending and careful manipulation of aging frames I was able to pop the lens back in, but it made me realize that it might be time to replace them. I depend on familiar objects for too long, I think. I reckon if I show them love and respect that they'll do the same for me, and that leads me to often utilize them well past their expiration date. Those tennis shoes I love drive everyone around me nuts because they squeak, but they're so comfortable! I have t-shirts that I love wearing but GalPal cringes over every time I put one on.

I think this is an extension of my own personal philosophy; I 'm always willing to give folks I care about 110% of myself (and often willing to give folks i don't care about at least 105% of myself) so I kind of expect the same in return, even from inanimate objects. Is this a fair assumption? Of course not. I'll even go so far as positing it might be a tad unhealthy since it betrays an idealism that simply can't be fulfilled.

Your favorite jeans will let me down by one day ripping irreparably. Your best friend will let you down by one day not coming through in the way you expect them to. Your lover will let you down by one day (at the very least) annoying you (by, say, hogging the couch or forgetting to take out the garbage when they said they would). And this is all OK. We all let each other down, and it's foolish to think we won't.

But the great thing about failing is learning how not to repeat it.

Now excuse me, I think I need to save my glasses from repeating failure by shopping for a new pair...

Flyin' to the oldies?

Flyin' to the oldies?

In a past life I actually had the pleasure of working with this guy. He is 100% as much fun as you would think he would be. And now he has filmed the most AWESOME airline safety video OF ALL TIME.

So long, Liz.

So long, Liz.

A truly classy lady knows how to not take things so seriously.

Itchin' for a change.

Itchin' for a change.

Remember when I was talking about wearing the same make and style of boots year in and year out? The same obviously applies to the design of this place. I think it's from some free template a guy put together and donated to the common pot back when I launched this thing in 2002. It's not that I dislike change, I've just never really gotten around to updating the look around these parts. I've used various workarounds on the back-end to make things like titles appear (because this design doesn't natively suck them in) and re-size photos and videos and the like.

I've said it before, but I think the time has come to make a change. But when? I never really have free time, and the little free time I have is usually spent vegging out with GalPal as we both recharge our batteries from our busy lives. I don't really want to resort to another generic template, but I don't really know loads about making my digs look as personalized and nice as, say, here.

If anyone has any advice for me, or has a tutorial or site they've found particularly helpful when redesigning a Blogger site, lemme know!

Let's party like it's 1997!

Let's party like it's 1997!

In the music world we seemed to have moved on from the '80s and are now experiencing a '90s resurgence. Time filters memories in a really funny way. For instance, some of my friends threw an '80s prom earlier this week and I really wanted to attend to see how folks that either weren't alive or couldn't possibly remember that decade would end up interpreting it.

Trust me, the '80s were NOT what you usually think they were. People see John Hughes movies and I think it skews the memory since he was a filmmaker who was actually cool, so if you want to know how people really dressed throw in Back To School for a reality check. It wasn't all neon. It wasn't all parachute pants. And if you went out skiing the slopes looked nothing like they do in the (hilarious) fantasy that is Hot Tub Time Machine.

And it's much the same with the '90s; a decade whose earlier years are now more than ripe enough to fully classify for inclusion on a classic rock station, much to my (aging) horror. I've been to a couple '90s nights and am truly surprised at what people remember as good time tunes. I get it, I'm old. And the kids can love what they wanna love. And any griping from me can be easily equated to an aging boomer all pissed off that the kids have co-opted their shitty hippie tunes and a soundtrack to smoke dope to instead of a call to revolution. I guess this doesn't really bother me as much as it makes me realize that time's filter is something none of us can control. To me the '90s will always be about the promise of an indie revolution that failed and to others it will simply be the Now That's What I Call Alternative Rock NOW With Awesome Hip-Hop! years.

So hey kids, DON'T get off my lawn. Let's break out the boomboxes, you groove to my memories of the '90s and you can give me deeper insight to that decade through yours.

Currently rockin' my world.

Currently rockin' my world.

Such an eternal badass.

The inside dope.

The inside dope.

If you are visiting Chicago* and want the best burger in town and have between 2.5-3.5 hours to spare, without a doubt go to Kuma's. However, if you DON'T have that time but want a reasonable approximation of Kuma's, Lockdown on Western Avenue is a new discovery of mine that fits just that description.

Make NO mistake, Kuma's is still the undisputed king; I just want folks to know there's a new option for better than good burgers in Chicago.

*Or a resident, O.K., O.K.

DayCation ManDate

DayCation ManDate

Jealous?

Staycation daze.

Staycation daze.

At the 9-to-5, folks on my team (including me) tend to forget to use our vacation days throughout the year. last year I actually lost vacation days because I just couldn't use them all, and everyone can't just take the month of June off together, so I'm trying to use a day here and a day there so I use 'em all up. Tomorrow is one of those days!

Here is what I'm looking forward to, schedule-wise:

• Wake up
• Go to the gym
• Watch The Larry Sanders Show
• (Actually have to work for an hour)
• Watch The Larry Sanders Show
• Go to Kuma's
• Go to Lockdown
• Go crazy

It's gonna be a good day.

What's your cutoff point?

What's your cutoff point?

Rarely do I cross post stuff here from the tankTUMBLR, but this feels like something that just needs to be shared. It contains many great lines, but in order to get you to click I will offer a sample snippet:

They will find it strange that their 10-year high school reunions are only two years away. (Though only in a marking-time sense; they won’t actually attend their reunions, because Facebook has turned high-school reunions into conventions of old-timey 20th-century life.)

[originally via]

Turning a house into a home.

Turning a house into a home.

We’ve been in our coach house about a year and a half now, and it’s slowly growing ever cozier. Interior decorating has never been my strong suit and I’ve never really cared much about it one way or another. When GalPal met me I lived in a two-bedroom apartment by myself and while I had a bed in the bedroom and a couch in the family room and a table in the kitchen almost everything else I owned was shoved in the extra bedroom in boxes on bookshelves and on CD or DVD racks. In fact it wasn’t until GalPal had been dating me a few months that she even realized I had a second bedroom, when she said, “I WONDERED where all your stuff was! I kept thinking for a guy who writes about music and supposedly listens to so much and like reading and reads so much there was noting in your apartment to show for it. It’s like you were living like a serial killer or something.”*

When we moved in the coach house GalPal had a list of things she wanted to accomplish to make the place feel like a true home both inside and out. Slowly she’s made progress – painting, rearranging, planting, decorating – but today I feel we’ve made the largest leap yet; our new couch has arrived.

Our old couch was a gift to me by a close friend, and while it perfectly served its purposes when I was single and just needed something to watch TV from and occasionally make out upon. However once a second person entered my life on a regular (read: living with me) basis it proved to be too small to allow two people to comfortably lounge upon. Perfect for late night make out sessions, but not so good for extended periods of snuggling.

So for the last year and half GalPal and I have wanted a new couch. And for the last six months, finally able to afford it, we were actively shopping for one. And six weeks ago we found the perfect one – wide, and soft and big enough to allow us to lounge together or apart and both still fit on the couch – and ordered it. And today our perfect couch arrived.

And today our house took its biggest step towards becoming a true home yet.

*Hey, I do like Genesis and Huey Lewis and the News, but C'MON!

Comfort in repetition allows an adventurous spirit to thrive.

Comfort in repetition allows an adventurous spirit to thrive.

There are certain things in life I like a certain way. When I find a pair of jeans that fit well, I buy multiple pairs. My wardrobe isn’t exactly known for its great variety (anymore). I have favorite foods and I eat little else. And I’ve been wearing the same kind of boot for the last decade, ordering a new pair about every 1.5 years as the current footwear is (no pun intended) on its last legs. Once I find something that works – especially in footwear – I’m loathe to change it. So imagine the cold sweat that soaked my frame when I realized my current boots needed replacing NOW and – horrors! – the manufacturer (from what I could ascertain) had stopped making the model number I knew and loved!

OK, I realize this story probably isn’t that gripping so far, and the idea that I would have to change the boot I wear seems trivial, but maybe it isn’t. Maybe the reason I’m so eager to explore all kinds of things, and suck in all kinds of information, and swim in all kinds of new experiences is because there are certain tent poles of stability (and is it so wild to suggest they might be built out of food and clothes that make me feel like me, allowing me to act more outrageously as me?) that afford me the freedom to do so?

Who knows? But I’m going to go with “maybe it does.”

Anyway, the manufacturer had ceased production on my favorite model of boot and while I wasn’t looking forward to it I began to peruse similar models in hopes of finding something that’d make for a suitable replacement. Nothing was quite right so I started scanning various online outlets in hopes of finding something an lo and behold, in a store I’d never heard of before there was my boot! In my size! And there was only one pair left! And on sale with a discount code I sussed out in another nook on another website!

So I bought the boots and they showed up today. I think there was a larger lesson in here somewhere, probably in the connection I was trying to make between balancing the known with the unknown. Instead I think it showcases the worth of perseverance and not giving up hope, but even that’s probably too lofty a point to pin on it.

So let’s just leave it as a nice story of a boy happy about finding the perfect replacement for his favorite shoes. This tale has been brought to you by Monday.

Oooooh, yeah. George Michel Sexy Sax.

Oooooh, yeah. George Michel Sexy Sax.

People with similar names (Michelle / Michele) sent this to me independant of each other. It makes me regret they didn't get it to me in time for the Chicagoist Friday Afternoon Diversion!

I dare you not to smile.

I dare you not to smile.

It's been quite a week and I don't know about you but I am looking forward to the weekend, even if at right this second 5 p.m. Friday seems weeks away. I find whenever I need a feel-good pick-me-up, all I have to do is look at this photo.

You're welcome!

Talkin' 'bout splitting a check can set off a bomb!

Talkin' 'bout splitting a check can set off a bomb!

Yesterday I posted a quote from a Neel Shah commentary in The Awl about splitting the check and man oh man did it create conversation. Previously I didn't even know folks had arguments by quoting portions of reblogged quotes back and forth ad nauseum! Amazing! Much of the argument that ensued was from folks that obviously didn't either read the very first line of the quote or click through to the whole piece it was lifted from. Basically the source states that if you're over the (somewhat arbitrary so let's say it scales a few years forward and back) age of 25 and out to dinner with a group of friends you (with a few exceptions) split the check evenly, and if you're under 25 you pay for your portion but over tip a little to compensate for the inevitable Denny's math that causes the pot for every group check to fall short. Apparently the idea of splitting a bill evenly drives some people INSANE. Oddly, I got the impression most of the loudest outcry was from a reading population falling under the 25 year old cut off age so I think they may have missed the point.

Look, the bottom line is that when adults who are established in their jobs enough to have disposable income that allows them to order from a menu with the knowledge that they better be willing to pay for every goddamn thing go out to eat we make a judgment call when the check comes around. If everyone ate similar amounts then we split the check. If we didn't we throw in the appropriate amount per person along with a hefty tip. More often than not, because you tend to eat out with groups of people you trust and like and have an established pattern of behavior with once you hit those post 25 year old years, we just split the check (this helps self-correct especially in the case when dining with couples since one person in a pair tends to eat more while the other eats less) and are done with it.

And if you're in a party of 5-plus, and the server adds an 18% gratuity, YOU STILL TIP MORE so you at least hit 20% (and, if your party was particularly large -- obnoxious or not, you're still a handful -- tip more than that!)!

[Image via Jim Reynolds]

Post #3,200.

Post #3,200.

The title of this post is just what it says it is. That's a fair number of posts, huh? Looking through my dashboard I see a few of those 3,200 posts are still in draft form so maybe I should amend the title to read 3,200 minus a handful still in draft form, but I'm not going to because whether you've read them or not 3,200 posts have been penned for this outlet.

Most of the posts here are reasonably substantial in length. It wasn't until relatively recently I decided it was OK to go for a couple days' stretch posting photos or a couple lines on content. If you turned all this into a book it'd be one heavy motherfucker, and I'm not just talking about weight. I have no idea how long you've been reading this site but whatever your length of stay I appreciate the attention you've given it.


Here's to at least 3,200 more!

Mountains of food.

Mountains of food.

While this photo was taken a few months ago, it's displaying only slightly more food that I consumed at breakfast yesterday.


I was SO STUFFED that when we stopped by Smoke Daddy last night to get some carry-out I didn't order any for fear of ripping open my stomach.

It's Claychella time!

It's Claychella time!

If you live in Chicago and want to see virtually every good DJ the city has to offer playing one spot then get ye to Lincoln Hall for (what might be the very last) Claychella! I'm honored to be in the mix and will be spinning from 2-3 p.m., so no excuses like "you always DJ so late" should keep you away!

Steve made this hilarious flyer:

On @MayorEmanuel, @DanSinker, and this whole hullabaloo.

On @MayorEmanuel, @DanSinker, and this whole hullabaloo.

I think the connective tissue, and it's what galls Rhodes and DeRo, is that yes, @MayorEmanuel was fiction, but it was fiction practiced by someone who theoretically is supposed to remain publicly neutral (however laughable that notion is in this day and age) in his views. But IS it an ethical breach? As a journalism teacher should Sinker have participated in the public discourse in a way that, again yes, was wholly unquestioning of Rahm Emanuel and even elevated him to the stature of "cool?"

Me? I thought the feed was a fucking hoot. And I hoped fervently that the author would never come forth for just this (the resulting media attention / criticism / obscuring of the actual object of creation) reason. But Sinker couldn't resist the adulation, so whatever results is not only on his shoulders but wholly open to the critical barbs raining down all around him.

Punk rock is NOT passively allowing b-roll to be shot of you merrily typing away at your Mac.

Long live @MayorEmanuel but, at this point, fuck @DanSinker (at least now, though I'm sure I'll forgive him) for taking so much of the joy out of his merry episodic romp by pulling back the curtain.

It's Wednesday?

It's Wednesday?

Is it Wednesday, right? For a second I woke up and thought it was Tuesday. It's already been that kind of week. And it may have been a little quiet around these parts but that certainly doesn't mean I've been silent! For instance just yesterday I wrote about Ke$ha's recent show in Chicago though I, sadly, have no decent photos of her because there was no photo pit and I had to shoot from the back of the room with no telephoto lens. Oh well.

In other news I am playing Claychella this Saturday. I don't know when but I would guess I have an early afternoon DJ slot, so come by since you can't complain I'm DJing too late!

Also, have you met my new drinking buddy?

Finally, my awesome friends Scott and Erin just welcomed what is suer to be a doubly awesome baby girl into the world. Did I mention I DJed their first "date?" That means I am eligible to take all the credit for the creation of their awesome little girl, right? Right? Is this thing on?

Looks Like I WAS right...

Looks Like I WAS right...

Now that @MayorEmanuel has outed himself as Dan Sinker, may I direct your attention to my guess from February 11 as to who @MAyorEmanuel was, followed by Sinker's denial? (I am not THAT smart though, my guess was based on some digging sent my way by Samantha Abernethy that guided me.)