Unleash the beast.
I'll warn you ahead of time, I'm feeling a bit wordy today. Maybe too many days of bullet-point writing has caused a mental back-up, but I can feel the barn doors rattling loose and the herd is threatening to escape. This often happens to me at moments of flux, and I think I'm in the midst of that right now. Not to get all motivational poster on you or anything, but I really feel like I'm at one of those moments that will define the direction my life will take. These moments are always scary and exciting and challenging and thrilling and so on and so on.
And no, this isn't prompted by some news or a "big announcement" or anything. It's just one of those times that I've come to a number of realizations about myself and my life and a breakthrough of sorts has been achieved.
__________Sensitivity.
I have always loved root beer floats. When I was younger my little heart would go a-pitter-pat at the sight of an
A&W stand. So it's no mystery why I love
Arby’s Black Cow shakes. They taste just like a melted root beer float. In fact I will often go miles out of my way to find an Arby's that still carries this delicious flavor since jamocha seems to have replaced it – and I have no idea why coffee would replace root beer as a flavor choice, but maybe that's just me – so I was tickled pink when I discovered the Arby's right near where I work has suddenly decided to add the flavor to its menu. Here’s the scene. I eagerly walk up to the counter and place my order.
Me: I'd like a black cow please.
Arby's dude: What?
Me: A black cow, please.
Arby's dude: (narrowing his eyes and glaring at me) I think you mean
jamocha.
Me: (feeling a little nervous, having obviously triggered this guy's ire) No. Black cow. Root beer flavored?
Arby's dude: (glaring, turns to manager) Can you believe this guy?
Me: I’m sorry.
Arby’s manager: He means the new shake flavor.
Arby's dude: (eyes popping open) Oh!
At this point I should maybe note that the guy behind the counter was black. Halfway through the back and forth, I realized he thought I was trying to make some sort of racial statement or something and it severely freaked me out. I immediately felt guilty for making the guy think I was taunting him somehow, and then got confused because I was feeling guilty for something I hadn’t even done.
And then I felt sad that the whole exchange, and both of our responses, even has reason to exist in the first place.
SIDE NOTE: I looked all over Arby's site for a link to their Black Cow shakes, but I don't see it anywhere. Doesn't that seem a little weird?
__________Gravity defying body parts.
Here's a scene that replays more nights a week than I'd like to admit. I'm sitting on the couch watching
The Daily Show, having just (literally) tucked Photogal in bed and kissed her goodnight. Jon Stewart gives way to
Stephen Colbert, and sometime before Colbert signs off I drift off to sleep. My dream is infiltrated by steel drums and I'm suddenly on a beach. I'm having a great time. I’m surrounded by girls. Girls gone wild. I am in bliss.
My eyes pop open and to my horror I realize that late night rotation of
Girls Gone Wild infomercials is in full effect and my brain has been picking up on them. I am horrified. Mortified. Stupefied that some deep part of my psyche has betrayed me through my dreams and exposed the fact that, on some deep level, I must actually enjoy the notion of Girls Gone Wild. Some terrible, primal component of my mind has been pried open and the door has been left swinging, leaving my embarrassed sensitive inner male threatening to curl up into the fetal position.
__________Free booze!
Tonight is the
Chicagoist Happy Hour, where we show appreciation for our readers by opening a sizeable tab at a bar from which our following can quench their thirst. Tonight we're having it at Quencher's starting at 6pm, but bring your drinking pants, because we plan on sticking around for, and participating in,
Live Band Karaoke later that night. Rumor has it this will also coincide with
Eric's birthday party, so expect cultures to clash as nerds and intellectuals and tech-heads and rockers sway to and fro in perfect unison while singing Cheap Trick's "Surrender."
It's going to be awesome.
__________Finally, I'm all out of hot air.Wow, you're still here? You deserve some goodies then. Here's two tracks to either rile you up or cool you down. First up is
Secret Mommy's "Deciduism" rides that electronic pop bandwagon The Postal Service hijacked, but they throw in enough Aphex Twin weirdness to keep things interesting. This iss a track perfet for chilling out and sipping a nice cold beverage.
MP3: Secret Mommy "Deciduism"M4A: Secret Mommy "Deciduism"Tiga does a lot of remixing work, but he decided it was time to release a whole album of his own (save a cover, or three) tunes. Personally, I think that was a mistake since most folks that are great at reworking other people's songs are often not so good at constructing their own. And for the most part Tiga proves this little piece of conventional wisdom correct. The one exception is "Far From Home" as it slithers and sways and grooves with a certain understatement that charge sup the air around with supersexiness. Dig it.
MP3: Tiga "(Far From) Home"M4A: Tiga "(Far From) Home"
I'll warn you ahead of time, I'm feeling a bit wordy today. Maybe too many days of bullet-point writing has caused a mental back-up, but I can feel the barn doors rattling loose and the herd is threatening to escape. This often happens to me at moments of flux, and I think I'm in the midst of that right now. Not to get all motivational poster on you or anything, but I really feel like I'm at one of those moments that will define the direction my life will take. These moments are always scary and exciting and challenging and thrilling and so on and so on.
I have always loved root beer floats. When I was younger my little heart would go a-pitter-pat at the sight of an A&W stand. So it's no mystery why I love Arby’s Black Cow shakes. They taste just like a melted root beer float. In fact I will often go miles out of my way to find an Arby's that still carries this delicious flavor since jamocha seems to have replaced it – and I have no idea why coffee would replace root beer as a flavor choice, but maybe that's just me – so I was tickled pink when I discovered the Arby's right near where I work has suddenly decided to add the flavor to its menu. Here’s the scene. I eagerly walk up to the counter and place my order.
Here's a scene that replays more nights a week than I'd like to admit. I'm sitting on the couch watching The Daily Show, having just (literally) tucked Photogal in bed and kissed her goodnight. Jon Stewart gives way to Stephen Colbert, and sometime before Colbert signs off I drift off to sleep. My dream is infiltrated by steel drums and I'm suddenly on a beach. I'm having a great time. I’m surrounded by girls. Girls gone wild. I am in bliss.
Tonight is the Chicagoist Happy Hour, where we show appreciation for our readers by opening a sizeable tab at a bar from which our following can quench their thirst. Tonight we're having it at Quencher's starting at 6pm, but bring your drinking pants, because we plan on sticking around for, and participating in, Live Band Karaoke later that night. Rumor has it this will also coincide with Eric's birthday party, so expect cultures to clash as nerds and intellectuals and tech-heads and rockers sway to and fro in perfect unison while singing Cheap Trick's "Surrender."
Did you know the '80s didn't reach Canada until the '90s? Neither did I, until my brother introduced me to Robin Sparkles. Totally tubular. Someone want to rip me a quality mp3 / m4a of the tune?
*FULL DISCLOSURE: Okay, I only ever made it to one of their parties, but that was because I was always working the nights they had them. The one I went to was so wonderfully surreal, though, I just knew we were destined to be friends for life.
Also, a side note, and please do not confuse this with some sort of sense of personal accomplishment; Photogal and I didn't step foot into a retail store today (unless you count the gas station.) This marks the first year in recent memory that we haven't. usually we go out to gawk at the crowds and then find ourselves getting sucked into the vortex of consumerism and buy a $35 DVD player figuring, "someone we know can use it."
I always get really excited about spinning at The Continental, so I hope you'll have digested enough of last night's feast in order to be mobile and stop on by tomorrow. Kip will be supplying a guest set and I've got loads of stuff to give away (like 2 tickets to the Margot & The Nuclear So & So's / Dirty On Purpose show at Subterranean, CDs from Thurston Moore's Ecstatic Peace label, Decemberist lithographs, etc.). How exciting is all of that!
I do tend to forget that a tech column in something like Newsweek needs to be simplistic enough, and careful enough to avoid assumption, so that any average reader can "get it." In this case, I take for granted that everyone is aware of the role music plays in people's lives, whether they know it or not. The simple fact is that most people don't know it, never bother to explore why they respond to songs the way they do, and that is perfectly okay.
However I forgot that when writing for Chicagoist, a site with a huge readership -- many of whom may not visit everyday, and many of whom may be landing on the site for the first time ever -- I have a responsibility to include everyone and make my writing as accessible as possible. I can still be as ornery in my critiques as I wanna be, but folks need the full background each and every time I make a bit of commentary. This is even more important on Chicagoist because it's not a music-centric site. Music is just one of many subjects we cover, and when someone is reading my views on this band or that event, I have to make sure they understand what I'm talking about or they're not going to take the time to read what I have to write the next time.
I was going to write a whole review of the Crispin Hellion Glover experience from Saturday night, but decided words couldn't really do the whole thing justice. Then I thought about it some more and decided that maybe writing about it would help me more fully understand the experience for myself. So, if you're interested, my rather lengthy thoughts about the evening are right here.
This is seriously terrific stuff, as if Modest Mouse ran into Arcade Fire and blew a few amps. I've got a full piece on them going up at Chicagoist before their show here in Chicago next week, but get on the wagon ahead off the rest of team and dig 'em now.
I've written about this cat before and I still don't quite know how to describe him. I mean, I've got to be able to come up with something better than that whole Modest Mouse / Arcade Fire train wreck I committed above. Hm. Let's see. Traces of Beck. A touch of that whole Bright Eyes thing, without the whining. Lots of effort in the studio that shines through without overwhelming. i dunno, his publicist tried to tell me he was hip-hop, but I'm not buying that. it's different and eccentric, yet super-accessible, I think.
If you don't live in Chicago, you probably have never heard of these guys, and that is truly a pity. Skid Marks leads this new-New Wave outfit through concerts that even get the most rhythmically challenged to shake their ass in pure glee. When they started the band, in the interest of keeping the quality high and the boredom factor low, they decided they didn't want any songs to go past the three-minute mark. They haven't totally kept that promise, since I think they have an epic or two that clock in at four minutes or so, but even at that length the songs never get boring.
These kids are reasonably well-known overseas, so you would think that at least some buzz would have crept over here. Alas, they remain largely unknown in the U.S.A. I actually have two versions of this disc, but the one they ended up releasing dropped one of my favorite songs. Bummer. But this isn't about what I'm missing, it's about what you're missing, right? Well, here's what you're missing: a bunch of kids making an oddly cohesive and professional racket with one old man filling in on the bass. And an album of some of the best fucking British rock and/or roll this year.
I know I just wrote about these guys (well, guy), but Shay-sus Kee-rist if they didn't come way out of left field as a heavy contender for one of the best albums of the year. This accomplishment is made all the more amazing when you consider the entire disc is a) built out of nothing but samples and b) it's free! Why you do not have this locked into constant repeat RIGHT THIS SECOND is beyond me.
