Top 5 for September 26, 2011
Have you filled out my survey? Well, do it. I have a grade to maintain. And on with the list…
1. 20 Years Ago – It seems that the nostalgia cycle has firmly settled on my generation (X). There are numerous Nevermind tributes, including my own. However, there were other records that came out in 1991. That and a lot has come out in honor of feminism’s third wave taking off in the form of ‘zines and riot grrrl happenings. Of course, all of this 90’s retro fever will only encourage me to force outdated media on my child. Hence the purpose of this blog has gone mainstream (aside from the beer part).
2. The Ohio State Buckeyes 2011 Football Season – I’d rather not write much about football. All is not lost, but it’s a rebuilding year for sure. Freshman Braxton Miller started and won. So, there’s that. B1G starts this week. We’ll see how things go from here on out. The off-season of suspensions and coach firings has done a number on my favorite sports team. Here’s to hoping the NCAA is kind next month.
3. Spotify – I wish I had more time for Spotify. This is the social music tool for which I’ve always dreamed. I haven’t created a lot of complete play lists, but I’m starting. If only they had more music. At least a third of the music for which I search is not yet available. I know that I could just upload my own, but that takes time and most of my CD’s are put away. It will take time, but I’ll post some play lists soon enough. In the meantime, subscribe to my play list for the blog. It will be updated periodically.
4. Black Francis Update – Black Francis is bottled and will sit for another 3-4 weeks in said bottles for some additional aging and conditioning. I originally planned to let it sit in the secondary for two months, but I decided to move it after six weeks? Why? Multiple reasons, really. First, I’m impatient waiting on home brew and I knew it tasted pretty great a week or two ago. Second, I have plans to brew more and figured I might need the carboy and/or the space. Third, everything was long-settled and the flavors seemed to have soaked in well enough. Fourth, I accidentally left the cover off the carboy for several days after tasting it. I don’t detect any oxidation, but I figured it was time to bottle and move on. My hope is that I have plenty of bottles to share around the holidays.
Speaking of home brewing…I brewed an all-grain batch of my Simcoe-dependency yesterday. It should be awesome. It smelled pretty awesome anyway. I may offer tasting notes once it’s ready.
5. Hopz – I tried one of those Hopz cigars. I bought them for my father-in-law for his retirement. We smoked a couple yesterday. Pretty mild, loosely wrapped, but I didn’t get any hops. Maybe it’s all marketing. I guess it worked.
Obsession
I am currently hooked on the show Dexter. I don’t watch a ton of TV and tend to wait for things to come out on DVD or some “free” service online just to see if it has staying power. For those who are not familiar, Dexter is a forensic investigator who specializes in blood splatters by day and a serial killer who only kills proven murders by night. He is consumed with a need to kill and a need to seek justice.
There are also two books in my rotation at the moment. John Sellers’ excellent memoir about his dad’s fixation with snakes lies half-read on my iPhone. Also, I am reading a novel by famed rock manifesto poster Camden Joy called The Last Rock Star Book: Or Liz Phair, a Rant. In Joy’s “fictionalized” piece, his research of a certain nineties indie starlet begins to get crossed with his infatuation with loves and dirty deeds in his past.
What all these pieces have in common is obsession. Dexter obsesses over every kill. Sellers’ dad obsessed over a particular variety of snake found in a Michigan swamp to the detriment of his marriage and relationship with his kids. In Joy’s book, the narrator, also named Camden Joy, begins to blur his obsessions with his current assignment to hunt down Liz Phair, all the while, he writes what has to be the longest record review in history. I mean, it’s an entire book.
Obsession takes over our lives. It does mine. Take the subjects of this blog. I have two obsessions that never seem to leave me alone. All I can think of is which record is coming in the mail this week or how we’ll work out babysitting for tonight’s Fleet Foxes show. The beer obsession is trickier in that it comes off as if I’m an alcoholic. I will admit to having one or two beers too many, but this stems more from wanting to try more beers, not to get drunk. My cellar is nearly busting at the seams and I’m having to make room for more homebrew as well as “shipments” from out of state. My bank account has taken a hit from both, but it may be my attention that takes the biggest hit.
Saturday was not one of my finest moments in beer drinking. It was near 100 degrees and I attended a picnic with my beer club. A few high ABV sips later, I was not in great shape and all due to my obsession to try as many rare beers as possible. The episode made me rethink some of my beer consumption (along with my declining health) and I wondered if I could give up such an obsession. The same would go for the records and the concerts or even this blog.
Luckily, these are just obsessions and not addictions. We obsess over things we enjoy or things that motivate us, but we don’t die from wanting them. If I quit any of my obsessions, I’ll be alright. There was a time I never thought I’d quit buying baseball cards, but I survived that too.
So, the obsession with indie rock and craft beer rages on. These are tough things to give up. And now that I can’t stop watching Dexter or have two books I’m enjoying, you can just add it to the list.
Why We Hate Geeks, Nerds, and Snobs
That’s right. I’m in-favor of the Oxford comma and I’m back from the dead.
I could have easily added connoisseur to the title, but that’s been covered already. Regardless, we hate them all, even if we are geeks, nerds, or snobs ourselves about beer, indie rock, or whatever. There are things we…er….they do and say that cause us to reject their ideas of beer and music. Although they are extremely knowledgeable in whatever special interest, we tune them out as to listen to them sucks all the fun out of something that should be enjoyed by all. Some acknowledge their own snobbery and are more accepting of others. However, most of us don’t like being told how to enjoy a good beer or an album.
Below are the ten things geeks, nerds, snobs, and connoisseurs do that makes it hard to take their advice and opinions on beer and indie rock seriously.
10. It was always better way-back-when.
Pavement was so much better on their Slanted and Enchanted tour than their reunion tour last summer. OR The ’08 120 Minute IPA was far superior to this year’s batch…For those who have discovered a band or beer just recently, there’s no way we can know what it was like to experience either when in their prime. It’s an unfair detail to mention in conversation. Age does not mean one has experienced all that is worth experiencing, particularly if you’re still in-search of white whales.
9. “Yeah, that’s nice, but have you experienced…”
It doesn’t matter what cool story you can bring to the table, the “expert” will always have one to top yours. I loved the Yo La Tengo show last month, but there are lots of people who thought the variation they saw on the spinning wheel was superior. Maybe. Why can’t both experiences be great? Why is a beer on tap automatically a better tasting experience than from the bottle?
8. No dialogue, just references.
This one is an epidemic for my generation. We don’t have conversations these days. We make pop culture references as way to make some meaning or connection in our lives. This practice is particularly bad when beer nerds and indie geeks “discuss” their tastes. Sea and Cake. Joan of Arc. Coctails. Rachels… La Folie. Russian River Supplication. Pliny. Dreadnaught.
7. Name-dropping when you’re not on a first name basis with anyone of note.
I love the guys who refer to their heroes on a first-name basis because they spoke to a guy at the merch booth or told a brewer how much you loved his beer. I met Brian Strumke of Stillwater Artisanal Ales at a bar in D.C. earlier this week. We chatted for while, we friended each other Facebook, but I don’t know that I’ll talk about “Brian” as if we’re close. He was a cool guy and I couldn’t resist mentioning him in this post, but our conversation doesn’t give me any more insight into craft beer than you may have.
6. Although that was great, I know how it could have been better, epic even.
You’re out, enjoying one of your favorite bands when your connoisseur buddy turns and says something like “This would have been waaaay better had they just played ‘South Carolina.'” Maybe, but they didn’t. Why ruin a good time by focusing on what didn’t happen?
5. “What do you think? I hate it.”
Ever been asked by a friend or acquaintance whether you liked a beer or were digging a band on stage and when you say you do like it, your partner proceeds to explain why this beer is infected or the band is completely off. Instead of offering his opinion first, he tests you to see whether you’re worthy or not and then details how wrong and ignorant you are.
4. “Have I told you this before?”
Snobs love to hear themselves talk and a big part of that talk is the one story he tells you over and over like it’s so amazing that you grow more impressed with every new telling. I don’t care that you saw Elliott Smith during his Either/Or days. Wow, great. You’ve been to Russian River and tried every beer on the sampler tray. It gets so bad that you start to think that this is the only thing your snobby friend has ever done and does that really qualify him as a snob?
3. Picking apart every last detail until enjoyment is impossible.
You’re sitting there, sipping on this excellent IPA, and watching the hottest band on Pitchfork. In one ear, you have your buddy explaining why the hop profile is out of balance with the malt bill. In the other ear, another friend is pointing out how the bassist is so drunk, he’s missing every cue. Who gives a fuck? Just enjoy the beers and show.
2. Once you come around, let’s throw out something shocking.
OK. So, you’ve figured out your discussion mate. He loves the sourest beers. He only listens to vinyl. Then, he drops the bombshell just to prove that he thinks about these things on a different level than you can comprehend or that he just knows more about everything… He loves the hop presence in a Miller Lite more than Pliny the Elder and still listens to his cassette tape of Hall & Oates’ Big Bam Boom, possibly the best album of the 80’s or so he claims. Really? Aren’t you just being ironic? Bad taste is bad taste, especially when one should know better.
1. The lecture.
Much of what’s been described above could be part of the snob’s lecture. The lecture is when your friend insists on dominating the conversation, constantly steering it to the one or two areas in which he assumes he is the most knowledgeable. There’s no listening on his part, just talking. And talking. And talking. Sure, he knows his shit, but there are other perspectives and opinions to consider in a discussion. Your opinion isn’t the only one that counts!
Of course, I resemble every one of these characteristics. I’ve done them all, but I feel I’ve been subjected to my fair share of each. Either way, I think it’s important we recognize these characteristics in anything in which we are knowledgeable experts and/or pathetic obsessives. And once we recognize the signs, we should try to avoid them and listen to others. When we see it in others, we should recognize that there’s good knowledge in arrogance and pretension.
Still, the backlash directed at beer nerds and indie geeks seems to resemble anti-intellectualism or anti-elitism that runs rampant through our political climate at the moment. These experts are valuable parts of our communities. They can connect dots and provide insight when it’s lacking. The trick is to not let that abundance of knowledge overwhelm or drown out enjoyment.
Update: Due to some developments elsewhere, I am adding an eleventh point. Since I didn’t rank the ones above, it doesn’t really matter where I stick this addendum. Once again, it should be acknowledged that I have committed many if not all of the above offenses. #11 is no different. In fact, if you follow the link at the beginning of this update, you’d see what I mean.
11. When someone doesn’t know when to stop…A new rule of thumb will be to limit myself to three comments in proving a point. In f2f situations, this could be a rule to make three points, then agree to disagree. The hated beer nerd/indie geek will not let something go. He has to have the last word, picking your argument apart, often diverting from the original statement. Normally, when I find myself in such a situation, I try to make a joke and move on. However, I recently engaged in an argument over the points made in this very post at another blog. I should have let it go, but I didn’t. In the end, I look like the ass. Of course, maybe it’s some strange consolation that my antagonist also comes off as an ass. Either way, two beer nerds arguing on a comment thread is a perfect way for said nerds to be ignored from here on out.
Special thanks goes out to Stan of Appellation Beer for linking back to this post and demonstrating an immense amount of patience and understanding. For a good read on beer and beer culture, I suggest you check out his blog immediately.
On Reissues: Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
The reissue is a right of passage of sorts for rock bands these days. Take an album that’s classic, hard to find, by a band with a legacy to uphold, or some combination of the three and you have a perfect candidate for reissue. Some come with extras while others are just a reprint of the original. Sometimes, it’s just the chance to own the vinyl version of a long-forgotten gem.
Which albums are being released? Pavement has had the deluxe treatment for all their albums so far. Bands like The Breeders, Joy Division, Neutral Milk Hotel, and many others have re-released albums on vinyl for a bit of nostalgia without the scratches. Archers of Loaf are touring this year and next in support of the reissue of their classic records, often complete with extras. Many bands I’ve followed over the years are now flooding me with reissues I must have.
Such is Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s self-titled, self-released debut. However, unlike the bands I’ve mentioned above, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah recorded their first released their record only six years ago. Is that really long enough to cement their place in history or stir up nostalgia for the days before Facebook and Google+?
Don’t get me wrong. The album is good, great even. I placed it near the middle of my best of the decade list. So, I bought into the hype – albeit a little late – all the blogs were putting out there about this band with the really long name. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah is an album that deserves recognition on the level of a reissue or even a volume of its own in the 33 1/3 series.
However, after six years, is there really a need for a reissue of this particular record? Availability aside[1], CYHSY has not stood the test of time. Six years is nothing. I mean, I’ll have been married six years tomorrow and no one’s giving me a reissue. Hell, CYHSY the band hasn’t really stood the test of time. They released a record that sounded like how John Hughes dreamed, a forgettable sophomore effort[2], and then they disappeared. There was the shitty solo effort, random one-off gigs, and endless promises of a return, the last of which looks promising.
This reissue fills a couple of purposes. For one, the band probably didn’t press that many on the first go-around. The album was self-released. They didn’t have the capital, nor the distribution to sell that many records. So, why print too many that will just infest your guest room for years to come. Second, the band has decided to have another go at this rock ‘n roll thing and are touring in support of a new record. Is there a better way to resurrect a rock career than to drum up nostalgia for past brilliance? I think not.
Clap Your Hands Say Yeah sounded[3] like no one else in 2005. Shit. No one sounds like them now. It was bohemian, Dylan-esque and Talking Heads-like in the way every band should be. There was a ton of bass without being cliched, jammy, or funky. Frontman Alec Ounsworth had/has one of the most unique vocal deliveries in rock. He mumbles and sours at the same time. It’s as if he doesn’t give himself time to fully enunciate as he has to get the words in his head out. And the band behind him was solid through and through.
And what landed on my front porch this week was vinyl copy of a record that meant a lot to me in the first year I moved to Columbia, the first year of my marriage. So, there’s a lot of sentimental value there. I never owned a copy of the record before, just a beat-up CD-copy my sister burned for me. Now, I’m the proud owner of a thick piece of vinyl slid into a high-quality jacket with a design as unique as the album it carries.
So, as I raise a glass to six glorious years with my favorite person who’s not my daughter, I will also celebrate what is a fun, electric, and completely captivating record. I only hope that this reissue is also a return to the band’s form and they’ll last as long as I hope my marriage will last.
Notes:
1Of course, iTunes and Napster (or whatever was the Napster of 2005) were around in those days. If you really wanted a copy of this record, you could get it, but I digress.
2I suspect there were good songs under David Fridmann’s messy production, but I’m just not sure. I’m also not sure I’ll ever forgive the band nor Fridmann for that record.
3I use past tense here because they are a band of the past until they prove that this new record and road effort is worthy of what the band did six years ago. They were a great band. We’ll see if they still are.
A Connoisseur
Admittedly, I sometimes get too wrapped up in my little niche. I love craft beer, a category that holds down about 5-10% of the market, depending on who you ask. I also love indie rock, a label placed on independent music that includes some non-corporately-sponsored acts but not all and is generally guitar-centric music that appeals to a small subset of music fans. These are two unique interests that I write about in this blog. What’s even more specialized is the fact that I write about the merits of only these two things.
I don’t know if this makes me a connoisseur or not. Maybe I’m just a blowhard with a blog who likes craft beer and indie rock. I pretend to know a lot because…well, I do know a lot about these two things. Not as much as some, but more than most. I guess this makes me a connoisseur as described in the comic above.
There could be more to say about many other things. In fact, I’ve often considered topics for this blog that don’t fit into either interest, but I tend to shy away from those. I’d rather write about what I write about. Still, what if I’m missing out on something else, something better?
Is craft beer really all that I’ve made it out to be? It has the uncanny ability to pair with any kind of food. There are beers perfect for every occasion. You can drink a beer with more or less alcohol, bitterness, sweetness, tartness, and some other -ness’s I’m forgetting.
What about indie rock? Is “indie rock” even a thing? It’s really a silly category of music if you get right down to it. Still, that’s what I write about.
Then, I think about the idea that anyone else could write a blog about whatever the hell they want to write about. This here blog is about indie rock and craft beer. That’s what I like. That’s what I write about.
Sorry for the filler, but I really just wanted to post the comic above and see what ideas it stirs in you all.
An Open Letter to Archers of Loaf
I found this nice picture of you. I clipped it from that Vulture piece you did.
Dear Loaf,
It’s been a long time, my old friend. I’ve missed you very much. It seems that you’ve only had time for a few of us, so I’ll make this brief.
I saw you on the television this past week. You guys sounded great, making me yearn for those years past when we used to meet up at Stache’s (twice), the Euclid Tavern, or that shitty metal club in suburban Cincinnati. Those were some good times. You tore up tiny stages and dealt with rowdy punks. You flirted with the devil and chose the higher ground. In my mind, you were kindred spirits with those of us trying to find our way through college with our blue-collar backgrounds[1].
Then, you broke up sometime in the last century. At first, I was hurt, but as new projects emerged, some of that void was filled[2] and I eventually found other music to distract me. Still, I often returned to the material from those glory days and remembered our time together with great fondness.
And as the years passed, several of your contemporaries decided to give it another try, often reaping the benefits of nostalgia. Yet, Archers of Loaf stayed away, never even hinting at a reunion. I was okay with this as I figured you all had better things to do with your time. Also, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to get in touch with my lost youth. Your slot would just have to remain empty.
Then, you did it. Without saying a word, you showed your face in your old stomping grounds[3]. There were whispers and rumors and then a summer festival. It looked like Pavement all over again. However, this was different. I saw you before I ever saw Pavement[4]. This was a longer time coming for sure.
As dates for your reunion were announced, I grew disheartened. The closest you would come to my home would be Chicago and that was the same weekend as anniversary of my marital union. There was no way I’d get to see you again. My dreams and hopes of us getting back together were shattered.
The strange thing is that as I watched you play for Jimmy Fallon[5], a peace grew within me. It became clear that you did this reunion thing right even if you didn’t come within 130 miles of my home. You didn’t record any new music in a half-assed manner just to cash in on the Loaf nostalgia. You didn’t play every summer festival or late night variety show in hopes of big money. You’re not releasing some ungettable box set on a major label. Nope. All you’ve done is play a tour much like the ones you played back when I knew you in support of the reissues of your catalog as put out by long-time friends Merge Records[6]. That’s reuniting the right way.
So, as you wrap up this summer tour and sail off into indie rock history for the second time, feel comfortable in the fact that you did the indie rock nostalgia trip the way Baby Jesus would have wanted. I hold no ill feelings and wish all of you the best in your future endeavors.
Best,
Zac
Notes:
1I don’t even know that this was true. It’s probably not a fair label, but Archers of Loaf appealed to that part of me. Many of the friends who held a similar appreciation for the band had similar backgrounds. Loaf was direct, to the point, and seemed to speak for the blue-collar ethos both lyrically and aesthetically.
2The Crooked Fingers material was very different, but once you saw the live show, you still felt that Archers of Loaf urgency.
3Cat’s Cradle.
4Weeks in fact.
5Does Jimmy Fallon even own an Archers of Loaf record? Did he know who they are/were? Maybe I’m underestimating Fallon, but I doubt it.
6Of course, judging by Arcade Fire’s sales numbers, Loaf could still reap some benefits.
The Weekend that Was
Since starting this blog, I’ve tried to limit the number of posts that just tell you what I did. Well, I’ve been a single parent for most of the last week and will continue for all of this week. So, I have time for nothing more than share a few images from my weekend.
The weekend started with this…
Stone’s Cali-Belgique IPA started off the weekend (and would be enjoyed on Sunday as well). The Hopry’s review got me to thinking that I needed to give this beer another try. The first and last time I tried it was the big Stone night here in town and I was not that impressed. Of course, I was following up several beers that are all a load on their own. So, making this my first of the weekend allowed me to enjoy this beer unscathed. Upon further review, the Cali-Belgique is what its name suggests: a California-style hopbomb with the delicate presence of a Belgian yeast strain. What a great summer beer this is going to be with it’s tartness only balanced by the fruity bitterness of west coast hop bills.
Later on Friday, I obtained the services of a sitter and caught what I hoped to be the lineup of the summer. Believers put on their typical jive-inducing set. Richard the Lionhearted (sorry, no pics turned out),played a tight set of new and old songs. Jerusalem and the Starbaskets brought home their dirty, drunken version of rock music before I had to sneak out to relieve and pay said sitter. It was a nice night to catch up with some friends and release a bit from my week as a single parent.
My kid’s first rock show happened. It was Sunday evening at an ice cream parlor. We sat down with our ice cream and watched Dubb Nubb and Cory Taylor Cox play folk music as it stormed outside. As you can see from the picture, my kid and her friend from her Montessori school rocked out, mostly pogoing the night away.
My busy weekend finally ended the way most weekends should end: with a beer. Boulevard’s Tank 7 is easily one of my five favorite/go-to beers.
Hopefully, there will be more full-fledged posts this week as next week will be a bit thin with a long-awaited vacation on the horizon. Bare with me. I have ideas for some good posts in the coming months.
Friday non-Post
My wife is out of town and I’m single-parenting it this week and next. So, there’s little to no time to blog (especially for three blogs). I have two posts started, but no time to finish. One is about the necessity for indie rock and craft beer to better appreciate one another. That one you will see eventually. The second was a post about the end of the world. Since it’s ending Saturday, you won’t see that one. Also, Jamie was right and the yeast was not enough for my beer to fully ferment. Luckily, I have friends with slurry and I will pitch more yeast tonight.
In the meantime, read about what I plan to see tonight.
…
Returning to Mojo’s from parts unknown (or Memphis) is CoMo’s forgotten son and daughter tandem, better known as Jerusalem and the Starbaskets. Frontman Jeremy Freeze and drummer Kim Sherman bring the pain – metaphorically and literally with their raucous live set. Sometimes it’s a shambled mess and other times it’s pure brilliance. you want to be there for both.
As a two-piece, Jerusalem will cause you to recall other acts such as The White Stripes or The Black Keys, but those are lazy comparisons. I prefer rolling out Swearing at Motorist or The Kills when describing what they do. Expect plenty of heartbreak and woe, but be prepared to rock Friday night.
Jerusalem and the Starbaskets are supporting their recently released and well-received full-length as released by Minneapolis label De Stijl. The record is doing so well, that the first single, “First Cigarette in the Rain,” recently topped the NYU charts. So, be sure to make it out to Mojo’s tonight to welcome the duo back.
Also playing are CoMusic favorites Believers and Richard the Lionhearted.
Believers are warning their legions of followers that this might be the last time to see them for a while. Hopefully, that means more writing and recording…or it could just mean more float trips for the band. Either way, it will be nice to see Believers on stage again as they put on one of the most engaging live shows in town.
Rumor has it that CoMusic compilation contributor Richard the Lionhearted will be debuting some new songs tonight as well. This news should only be welcomed with cheers, beers, and undergarments flung on stage as these boys know how to write a song. The prolific band will open what promises to be the best one-night lineup of the summer.
The doors at Mojo’s opens at 8:30. There is a $5 cover, but it’s totally worth it.
In the meantime, check the following video and track to hold you over.
http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F10093969 Jerusalem and the Starbaskets : Walkin across your Grave by destijlrecs
Beer and Pavement 
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