Give Lagers a Chance
I’ve recently reviewed a couple of albums on this blog that I referred to as “growers.” What I mean is that they are records whose greatness is not revealed upon the first listen. It takes several listens to get what the band or artist is trying to accomplish. It may never be a great record, but a grower needs time and commitment to enjoy. One has to give it a chance.
The same can be said for beer styles1. Most beer geeks I know prefer big, hoppy brews that are bitter, rich, complex, the opposite of your basic, rice-based American lager. “Lager” is often considered a bad word in beer geek circles. It’s associated with Bud, Miller, Old Milwaukee, Pabst, Keystone, etc. Watered-down beers that can only be consumed ice-cold are avoided by folks who like to taste their beers2.
However, I think lagers should be given a second look3.
Rogue out of Oregon brews their Dirtoir Black Lager using home-grown ingredients (plus a few grown elsewhere4) to delicious results. The beer is technically a Schwarzbier or German dark lager. Rogue’s take on the Schwarzbier is what one might hope a Scharzbier would taste like5. There’s a pleasant bitter hoppiness present with a sweet chocolate and coffee malt flavor as compliment. Yes, lager heaven does exist and it’s in Oregon.
If the Schwarzbier is the black sheep of the lager family, the Pilsner is the golden boy. However, more than any other beer style, Pilsners have been bastardized in order to sell to the masses. Beck’s, St. Pauli, and Heineken come to mind when one first thinks of Pilsners, but many, if not most, mass-produced American beers are based on the style. This is probably what gives lagers and Pilsners such bad names among beer geeks.
That’s generally how I’ve felt about Pilsners6 until Easter weekend encouraged me to break open my 750 mL bottle of their Imperial Pilsner, a first-time collaboration with Belgian brewers at Orval7. This beer is like a Belgian golden ale in lager form. Bananas8 burst at every sip and temperature. Unlike most Pils, the beer even gets better as it warms. The Boulevard Smokestack series has rarely disappointed me and this is no exception. Really, it’s a great beer to enjoy with spicy foods such as Thai and Indian. And at 8% ABV, it can stand up to rich, fatty foods like few Pilsners can.
To prove my point that lagers are not all bad (or typical), I’ll cite three beers. The third is actually a Kriek, or that’s what New Belgium wants you to believe. Their Lips of Faith Series Transatlantique Kriek is a blend of a Belgian lambic and a special brown lager9 brewed by their own brewer. This is the dirty little secret of many lambics. They are often just regular beers with sweetener and artificial flavorings added to make them fruity. Some are true to form, but this NB Kriek is an original. The folks at some of the beer rating sites don’t like it much10. Unlike the Rogue and Boulevard beers that stuck pretty close to traditional styles and techniques while perfecting the results, this Kriek does things a little differently. The cherry presence is subtle and the finish is crisp and dry. I didn’t feel like I was drinking sparkling cherry syrup…nor did I feel like it was just a lager.
These are not the only reasons one should try a lager now and again, but these are beers you should try.
Notes:
1Yes, I am actually writing about beer on this blog. It may finally be time to retire this beer blog and consolidate my prose.
2Or at least want their beers to taste good.
3Like I may have to do for wheat beers.
4I believe the yeast strain is German so as to be true to the style.
5I always imagine that German beers are wonderful since beer is so important to Germans, but I am usually disappointed. Germans and British have nothing on Belgians and Americans.
6With the exception of random craft brew releases of super hoppy pils that seem to come and go, never really establishing themselves among the beer elite.
7By far one of the best beers I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting…and it’s readily available almost everywhere.
8Good beer either makes you think “raisins” or “bananas.” It’s cliche but true.
9Although, the bottle says ale and the website says lager. I’ll go with the website for my purposes. The point is that this is a surprisingly good beer.
10Beer Advocates often rate beers on their proximity to a classic style or how much the beer slaps them in the face with over-the-top flavor. This beer does neither, so it is considered just worthy to the beer elitists. However, Beer Raters do like it.
The End of the Boomer Age
Slate1 proclaimed that the oncoming Pavement reunion signaled “the end of baby boomer cultural hegemony” and I couldn’t be happier. We finally don’t have to be hit over the head with the British InvasionTM, WoodstockTM, MotownTM, or Vietnam® at every cultural turn and Time/Life special offer2 until our cerebrums are numb and too full to remember any of our own childhoods. Generation X is finally relevant.
I’ve felt like my entire childhood and a large part of my young adulthood has been hijacked by the Boomer Generation and resulting cultural output. I grew up thinking the Stones and Motown were the beginning and end of music3. Movies like Stand By Me and Mermaids4 dominated theaters. Rolling Stone was the cultural Bible, telling us what was hot and proclaiming the next Dylan5 or Scorsese at every turn. Boomer mainstays dominated pop culture. Boomer culture dominated society. It wasn’t my experiences that counted; it was the experiences of my parents which shaped my memories.
This appropriation of my experiences and interests has been confounded by the adoption of younger generations (including my own) of the Boomer aesthetic. I can’t go anywhere without running into a 20-year-old hippie6 or a hipster7 with a bushy mustache and afro a la 1973. And the music…Kids with iTunes libraries filled with Beatles, Doors, and Grateful Dead make me ill. All this may explain my distaste for hippies and hipsters. Watching younger generations lose their youth to Boomers frustrates the hell out of me.
So, when Slate made their proclamation, I could not fully express my relief in our culture’s escape from beneath the foot of the Boomer leviathan. Of course, with that release comes the inevitable takeover of custom by my own generation, X. While this is a good development for me and my escaping youth, it might not be very nice to those out there who are younger and trying to create their own culture and experiences8.
There has been a rash of eighties and nineties aesthetics popping up everywhere, completely ignoring any new or original thought. Besides Pavement’s reunion, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion9, Pearl Jam10, and Soundgarden are all reuniting this summer. Check the Tumblr blog Look at This Fucking Hipster for plenty of retro eighties looks. Movies like The Wackness or Clerks 211 inundate the young with Gen X with that 90’s flavor. We’re everywhere…much like the Boomers have been everywhere for the past three or so decades.
I don’t know if this is better or worse. I’m just happy that the Boomer’s stranglehold on our pop culture is over. Thank you Slate, but more importantly, thank you Pavement for ending this reign of tyranny at the hands of the Baby Boomer generation. Bring on the Generation X nostalgia12!
Notes:
1Where I met my wife.
2Only four easy payments of $19.99 (+$19.99 s/h)!
3To some degree, this may be true, but we are so far removed from that era of music that I actually prefer more material from the past 15-20 years than I do from the 60’s.
4I could go on and on about movies from 1975 to 1995 that featured stories set in the 50’s or 60’s. It was as if the only worthwhile stories to be told happened when Boomers were kids.
5Granted, Dylan is a modern-day genius and living legend. I have no problem with him, except that the man now mumbles into a microphone and is handed three Grammies instantaneously just for showing up. I find him unwatchable and nearly unlistenable in recent years, meaning the last 20.
6 A distaste that has been well-documented.
7I am somewhat ambivalent about hipsters. They at least are often trying to do something new and unique. We often enjoy the same music as well. Generally, I find them quaint, even harmless.
8Primarily, my daughter. So, she will just have to grow up listening to Pavement and Guided By Voices while watching anything with Harvey Keitel’s penis or Werner Herzog eating a shoe. We Gen X’ers love that shit.
9 A Jehovah’s Witness came knockin’ on my door on a Saturday while I was laying in bed with my wife! OR Take a whiff of my pant-leg, Baby!
10Wait. Did Pearl Jam break up? They might as well have. It’s been so long since they mattered. I lost touch with them when they fought Ticketmaster…and still found a way to charge $30 a ticket for their shows.
11To reveal my age, I saw the original in the theater. We had a great art house theater across the street from my college campus. I worked in the mail room over the winter break and saw a ton of movies over those two or three weeks.
12Actually, don’t. I think I’m tired of nostalgia all together.
Two for the Road
We had to travel in order to visit some family this past weekend1. So, I took advantage of the time to listen to new records2 throughout our travels.
I first heard Let’s Wrestle’s “I Won’t Lie to You” on a compilation3 a while back. From the get-go, I was hooked. Then I found out they were signed to Merge. What else did I need to know?
The band’s material is all over the map. There’s the punk charm of Billy Bragg, sans the politic. I hear a ton of Dinosaur Jr’s rawkward geekiness, without the guitar heroics. Plus, the presence of the youthful exuberance of a young Noise Addict4, with British accents instead of Aussie. The sound is still raw and emulates their heroes more so than creating their own niche, but that’s to be expected from such a youthful bunch of hooligans.
As a whole, In the Court of the Wrestling Let’s is as danceable and fun debut as one might want. It won’t shatter anyone’s expectations of rock ‘n roll, but it will remind you why you go to rock shows and buy more albums than you need5. There are even instances where I can tell this band won’t do punk records forever and my expand their repertoire to make albums of more substance in the future. However, for now, I want them to flaunt their youth and remind me that a piece of me is still young6. That’s why this record will be in heavy rotation for the spring and summer months, possibly beyond.
…
I’m lame. I have a minor crush on Zooey Deschanel. It’s nothing serious7, nor creepy. I just think she’s cute and her quirkiness gets me every time. There are no posters on my wall. The screen saver on my computer is not a series of Zooey Deschanel images. I just have a lame-ass guy crush on a Hollywood/Indie “it” girl8.
This does not cloud my view of her music. Sure, I loved Volume 1 she did with M Ward as the combo She and Him, but I was not alone in proclaiming the album’s greatness. Volume 2, on the other hand it is taking me some time to get.
The second She and Him album is bigger and brighter than the first. Deschanel still sings about relationships she’s had, not those for which she longs9. M Ward is still a master of producing 50-year-old hits. While all this sounds good, it doesn’t quite fit into the neat package that Volume 1 did, pulling me in from the first listen. Volume 2 is a good companion/sequel, but I don’t think I would give it as much time as I have had it not been for the band’s first effort. Eventually, it will grow on me and earn a regular spot in the rotation, but I doubt it ever overtakes Volume 1‘s place in the all-time list.
Notes10:
1We hit Pittsburgh before heading up to Huntingdon (near State College). I love older cities and towns like these. There’s so much character in eastern states. I miss it.
2Obviously, I did not listen to records on the road. The first album reviewed here is only out on CD. So, I lowered myself to purchasing said CD and played it on the ride to the airport. The second album came with the now-expected Mp3 download.
3The comp was created by my sister for my daughter Lucia after videos of Lu surfaced of her dancing in our living room naked. Lu’s aunt thought that she needed a mix in order to encourage more dancing. On the compilation are songs by Prince, The Clash, Unicorns, Michael and Janet Jackson, as well as Sponge Bob Squarepants.
4Early nineties teen band from Australia which was a pre-Claire Danes Ben Lee, released records on Thurston Moore’s and the Beastie Boys’ labels, respectively.
5It’s fun, exciting, makes you feel like you’re part of a community, etc.
6Despite the pains in my back that seem to shoot down my leg every morning.
7Then, I would be writing about my upcoming divorce. No worries.
8As far as indie it girls, there’s been Julianna Hatfield, Liz Phair, the Deal sisters before they became bloated on drugs, Neko Case, Feist, etc. Those crushes all fade eventually.
9This is a key difference between her and most indie musicians. Normally, they are way more awkward and unsure of themselves or they put on such a persona that their shyness doesn’t seem apparent at first. Zooey is a different creature all together.
10Look. It’s a very sensible size for a footnote section. I bet you’re proud of me…or hoping that the footnotes go away. For now, they stay.
Port O’Brien
I saw Port O’Brien tonight open for Portugal, the Man. I didn’t stay for the headliner as I have a plane to catch in the morning and Port O’Brien filled my needs. The bass player selling t-shirts was a nice enough fellow. Their set was everything I wanted it to be: raw, emotional, authentic, rockin’. I feel bad that much of the crowd of high school kids did not get it. Here’s a pic. It’s no Carrie Wade, but it’s something1.
When I get back from my trip, I plan to tell you how Pavement has single-handedly taken down the Boomers and this Port O’Brien show was great. I may even have something to say about the beer. Stay tuned.
Notes:
1It was shot three or four beers in with an iPhone.
When Indie Rockers Grow Old
When indie rockers grow old, they begin to resemble their not-so-indie forefathers. They do things like put out greatest hits records and break from their bands to collaborate with the hippest of collaborators. Pavement did one of these. The Shins’ James Mercer did the other.
Quarantine the Past is Pavement’s attempt at a greatest hits 1 collection. It’s really a great collection, but I’m completely biased2. They give you all the hits as well as a few hidden gems that need to be polished after all those years in the safe deposit box. Revisiting the two selected tracks from the Perfect Sound Forever EP3 was a good enough reason to blow my kid’s college fund on this bugger4.
Of course, this is what a band does to connect a younger generation to their catalog in one, affordable release5. Kids will pick up this LP and get a taste of what Pavement is like. Of course, as with all greatest hit collections, they will miss out on what makes the albums so cherished to long-time fans6. A selection from a band’s oeuvre never does it the same justice as the entire catalog can provide.
Quaratineine does what it can. It spread the tracks evenly among Pavement’s five LP’s as well as a few selections from EP’s and comps7. One cannot possible grapple with all that is Pavement from this record, but it’s a start. Like the collection of Nick Drake tracks I bought after watching that Volkswagen ad8, it only scratches the surface of what is to be consumed. Quarantine does this admirably, but is limited by the same thing that limits all greatest hits collections, especially from a band with no actual hits9.
James Mercer has been around the block, but his band The Shins has only been known for the past decade. That might not be long enough to garner the credibility of a Pavement10, but it is enough to earn a shot at recording an album with one of the industry’s elite producers in Danger Mouse. Sure, Beck and that guy from Sparklehorse who committed suicide have recently done the same with Danger Mouse, but Mercer brings his own style to the Mouse’s droppings.
Jangly guitars, emotive vocals over cool, hip-hop beats, blips, bleeps, and plenty 70’s soul accoutrement equal Broken Bells. It’s chill11. It’s crossover. It’s sort of boring and forgettable. Unlike the bass-in-your-face of the Beck album, Danger Mouse and Mercer just put the listener to sleep. Sure, any track released from this LP will be a hit on adult contemporary alternative radio and it will undoubtedly win a Grammy12, but it’s a bit of a snooze.
I sort of imagine that Danger Mouse heard the soundtrack to Judgment Night13 and thought that was the future of music. Ever since, he has found ways to mix rap with rock into this new hybrid bound to make loads of cheddar. The trouble is that it’s been overdone. He does have a unique ear for pop music, but Beck was doing this a long time ago before he lost his way14. That and Mercer’s work didn’t need a dance beat to be good. I’m OK with the collaboration, but it doesn’t blow my mind the way it would have for many had it been featured ad nausea on MTV in 1999.
In conclusion, indie rockers are just the new rockers. They release greatest hits collections and stray from their bands to make a unique sound with the hot producer. It all works with the same success rate as it always has15. It’s OK, but it doesn’t compare to the work they’ve done in the past.
Notes:
1Or misses. I mean, really, did Pavement ever have a hit? Nope. Their songs all sounded like hits that would never appeal to the masses. So, maybe they are the greatest “hits” with the quotation marks that you can undoubtedly see. I’ll stop now.
2If you haven’t figured this out, just wait.
3Songs I had forgotten even existed as I am way more obsessed with Pavement’s five proper albums than I am any of their singles, EP’s, or compilation contributions.
4Because, let’s face it, the reason Pavement releases enhanced versions of their albums and now a greatest hits collection is that their fanbase are now in their mid-thirties with good jobs thanks to their college degrees and lots of discretionary funds.
5See The Doors, The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Abba, etc.
6Which was mostly ridiculing each release until the next one came out. “Wowee Zowee is a piece of shit compared to Crooked Rain.” [flash forward two years] “Gawd! Paevement has sold-out with Brighten the Corners. I wish they’d do another album like Wowee Zowee. That was their best record so far.” And so on.
7As an avid mix tape maker in the nineties, I really appreciate the time and care that was obviously take in putting this album together. However, at the conclusion of every song, I’m already humming/singing the opening to the next track on the original album sequence.
8I also bought a VW primarily because of that ad.
9I prefer “misses” as I once used in a title for a mix I made for a girlfriend.
10I realize that this is ludicrous as The Shins have been around as long as Pavement were together. The difference is that Pavement broke up and furthered their legend by doing nothing. Mercer should have considered this route one of the two times he fired band mates.
11I refuse to use the term “chillwave” for two reasons: 1) I don’t really know what chill-wave is. 2) I don’t think this constitutes as chillwave, brah.
12This gives you some indication of how I feel about the Grammies.
13Precursor to rap-rock craze.
14See Midnight Vultures
15It’s C work. It passes. No one will quit listening to them. It won’t increase their audience size or demographic. It does nothing to advance their personal brand.
4
I have four records to tell you about1. They’ve been out long enough for you to shape your own opinions, but I’m here to give you mine. They range from the instantly great to the three listen minimum and a little something in between. This isn’t a March Madness themed review2. These are not the “final four” records by any means. They’re just the four about which I have to tell you.
…
Titus Andronicus recorded a concept album that’s either about a guy who leaves New Jersey for Boston as told through a metaphor of a Civil War battle or vice versa. It’s really good and rocks your socks off, but throughout I wondered how we got here.
Like TA, a guy named Springsteen rose from the polluted land and water of New Jersey to give his side of the story. This guy – I’ll call him “Bruce” – wrote a record called Nebraska about some kids on a killing spree. It’s really a good record. That and it’s a concept record of the highest order. Bruce tells a story or string of stories that are expertly-pieced together in a way that 99¢ spent at iTunes could never do for you.
From that same state of Nebraska is a Omahan named Conor Oberst3 who has been called the “next, next Dylan” by some. Bruce, of course, was the “next Dylan,” one “next.” Conor has recorded under several monikers and with a couple of bands. One of those bands was Desaparecidos4. In that band, Conor screamed over feedback-excessive guitars about all the injustices of suburban sprawl surrounding his beloved-Omaha. Where Bruce succeeded in telling a narrative about Nebraska from his Jersey perspective, Conor told a global story from his Nebraskan vantage point. Both recordings5 are prime examples of concept albums done right and done with real emotion.
So, when you have a band that sounds like Desaparecidos playing Bruce Springsteen songs, you figure it should work no matter the concept. And it does, sound-wise. The bombastic blue-collar anthems of Springsteen work when screamed over a punk rawk onslaught hard to deny. There are horns, guest speakers6, bagpipes, and a kitchen sink7 for good measure. The Monitor delivers a punch to the gut like few albums have for me over the last several years.
However, as a concept album, the record is a stretch. How a guy moving to Boston from Jersey relates to the most famous naval battle of the Civil War8 is beyond my comprehension. Of course, the band believes in the concept and makes it convincing enough for the listener to play along9. One cannot ignore such conviction, especially when it sounds this good.
To make it simple, go buy this record now. You can buy the other three records mentioned below, but buy this one first.
…
Quasi used to be be quirky and sad. Somehow, the bitterness in Sam Coomes10 has grown into an anger, nearly to the point of capitulation11. Of course, he hasn’t totally let go of his failures and the resulting anger, but the loss of the roxichord12 alone makes one question God’s existence all together. The anger suits Quasi. So, does a bass player.
I like Quasi’s new direction more with each recording. They’ve eased into a more traditional rock sound, leaving behind the whim and whimsy disguised as despair in their mid-nineties work. As they rock more, the strength of Janet Weiss‘ drumming comes to the forefront. Not since her final Sleater-Kinney album13 have I heard a kit endure more punishment. It’s good to hear, as is Coomes’ underrated songwriting. The roxichorded Quasi allowed Coomes the room to play with cliche and rhyme, crafting fine pop songs, but his adoption of a guitar turned to 11 has expanded their sound beyond the novelty of an organ and birds tweeting14. Even new bass player Joanna Bolme brings some wieght to the songs, making me think for a second that “Little White Horse” is a Mike Watt song15.
This album might just be a case of a must-have for a long-term fan, but I doubt it. Quasi rocks a ton and writes some good hooks. It’s not exactly what the kids are listening to these days with its nod to the Beatles and familiar culprits in the Blues and Punk eras. However, it contains just enough punch to surprise you. Totally worth a listen and absolutely worth a peek when they travel to your town.
…
The Morning Bender‘s sophomore effort, Big Echo, lost me from the beginning. Their influences are all over the place. It’s hard to pinpoint what they’re doing and whether it’s them or Chris Taylor’s (Grizzly Bear) production work16. So, I did what any self-respecting music fan would do: I listened to it again.
Sometimes the best albums are not fully understood right away. I didn’t get The Soft Bulletin or Yankee Hotel Foxtrot the first time around. Those albums are growers. They take time and effort to get, but when you figure it out, it’s worth it. The Soft Bulletin was such a departure from the Lips’ hardcore and grunge-esque days that I felt I had been duped. Then, I saw them support the album live. In the early incarnations of what is now an extravaganza of sorts, the visuals paired with Soft Bulletin material made it rather clear. Coyne’s dramatic, bloody performance and calculated explanations didn’t hurt either17. The Wilco record was just not as alt.country18 as I expected. They built an album out of conceptual tracks and dysfunction, not middle-class cow punk. It took a few listens to get past the limitations of their genre, but I did and was glad. Neither album was easy to hear the first time around. However, the pay-off for giving them additional listens was worth the time.
Now, I don’t think Big Echo is so good that the fourth or tenth listen will blow my mind, but I think it has room to grow. For certain are the lush arrangements and detailed textures within. As mentioned before, the influences are many, but they include Beach Boys, Shins, Lips, etc. So, it generally works. The album has components and complexity that makes the listener want to return in order to give it a fair chance. You should too.
…
No one gets more out of a few songs and forty-three different pseudonyms than Will Oldham19. Sure, you probably have all these songs in some form or another, but you don’t have this record of a live performance just outside of his hometown Louisville. Oldham, who always seems to have a record out, released this LP under cover of darkness, almost causing me to miss it completely. The record is a grand document of a little gig that inspires reviewers to throw around terms such as “hoot-nanny,” “ramshackle,” and “ramblin’.”20 And it’s lovely. No one croons or writes a tune to croon to like Bonny ‘Prince’ Billy. The band he assembles to pull off the task isn’t too shabby either. When I first played it, I was afraid that I was actually enjoying a Prairie Home Companion. Luckily, there was no mumbling, rambling semi-jokes by Garrison Keillor21 or faceless men frantically trying to make sound effects with kazoos and hallow coconut shells. It was just Billy and his merry band of minstrels.
It’s not ground-breaking22. It won’t make you want everything Will Oldham has ever done. But it will comfort you when snow falls in mid-March or wake you when the sun shines in November.
Notes:
1We’re up to six now, but those others will wait for another post.
2For two reasons: 1) I hate themed reviews. And 2) I’m avoiding sports as long as possible on this blog.
3I realize some folks have their issues with Oberst, but they really need to review his oeuvre objectively. He’s a hell of a songwriter, lyricist. The hype surrounding him has made this impossible to fairly assess, though. I don’t know that he’s the next Dylan or Springsteen, but he’s a talented wordsmith.
4Originally, this band was supposed to be a hip hop project, but it somehow evolved into hyper-political emo band.
5I’m really not trying to equate Conor Oberst’s side-project to maybe Bruce Springsteen’s greatest achievement on record, but thematically and aesthetically these are good connections in understanding Titus Andronicus.
6That one guy who talks over Hold Steady records about beat poetry and Springsteen utopias lends inside voice to a Whitman poem.
7Not really, but it could have worked.
8Typically, the Battle of Hampton Roads earns this honor. One of the ships involved in this battles was the Monitor. And now you know.
9It’s sort of like when you repeat a lie over and over, so much that it becomes the truth. You know who did that really well? Our last white president was a master at the repeated-lie-becomes-truth-trick.
10Primarily attributed to his divorce from Quasi drummer Janet Weiss, maritally-speaking.
11Judging from Quasi’s recent output and the state of the union, I blame this on our last white president.
12Arguably the best rock instrument that is not a guitar (including bass) or guitar. Sorry, keytar and Hammond B3.
13The Woods is as good a farewell album as there has ever been. Of course, they’ll be back soon enough.
14However, there is a track featuring a howling wolf.
15I mention this only because I have been listening to Ball-Hog or Tugboat? a lot lately.
16Which, by the way, is pretty fantastic. Orchestral, layered, textured, you name it. This guy should do this more often.
17I contend that the early portion of the Lips is by far their best live work. Finally, they were ripping off the Butthole Surfers without being so obvious. The three of them crowded in front of a relatively small projector as it displayed some of the same fractured footage they show today only without all the tomfoolery of bunny costumes and giant, inflatable balls. At that time, it was all about the music and imagery, not the shenanigans.
18This is a term I’ve had a love/hate relationship with for a long time now. Sure, I love me some cow punk/post-punk country music, but I just can’t place my finger on why this is an actual genre. What really constitutes alt.country these days? Magnolia Electric Co? Will Oldham? The reincarnation of Son Volt?
19Will Oldham, Bonny ‘Prince’ Billy, Palace Brothers, Palace Songs, Palace, Bonny Billy, Bill, etc.
20None of which I will use here.
21Garrison Keillor is fine, I guess. I just know that when I hear his baritone delivery of a corny joke, half of my Saturday is gone.
22But it’s certainly better than that load of crap Old Joy Oldham starred in as an actor hiking through the woods with his buddy. Gawd! That thing was awful. And he didn’t sing.
Perpetually Living in the Nineties
In case you haven’t figured it out, I am perpetually living in the nineties. I obsess over bands who did all their best work over ten years ago; my politic is mired in the discovery of some post-something-or-other during my college days1; and I sometimes think that I’m still 22. Maybe this is what every one goes through. We all sort of stick to that time period when life was fresh and exciting, when we experienced the most as adults2.
So, when it was rumored then announced that Pavement was getting back together, I have to admit that the 22-year-old in me got a little excited3. The band that defined a decade of independent music and much of my coming-of-age years was getting back together for what seems like the unlikeliest of reunion tours4. It was as unlikely as a Pixies reunion or Slint getting back together5. They started out scheduling and promptly selling out a few dates in NYC’s Central Park a year in advance and have slowly added Australia, New Zealand, Europe, nearly every American rock festival, and a handful of US cities. To boot, they’ve even released a best-of LP as an intro to younger audiences6. It’s been a full-on media onslaught ever since.
I first saw Pavement in the summer of ’95. In fact, I saw them twice that year. They were a favorite of mine since late ’93 or early ’94, but I was hooked after seeing them live7. Over the next few years, I would see them play maybe five or six times8. The last time was their final North American date at Cincinnati’s Bogart’s. They didn’t travel through Ohio9 often, so I had to jump on every chance I got.
Honestly, I was a bit slow to the Pavement bandwagon10. I wore out a dubbed cassette copy of Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, but I didn’t fully appreciate what I was hearing. Grunge bands dominated my CD collection more than anything else in those days11. It wasn’t until Wowee Zowee and the soon-to-follow shows in Cleveland and at Lollapalooza12 that I finally got what Pavement was all about.
Anyway, they’re still my favorite band. Their albums are littered among my lists of all-time favorites and I still listen to them regularly. I really haven’t moved far beyond the original lo-fi slackers of indie rock13 or their brethren. At least every other album I receive in the mail is by a band from that era or heavily influenced by SM and the boys. I like to think I’ve grown, but my taste in music suggests otherwise.
One of my opportunities to see the reunited Pavement is at this year’s Pitchfork Music Festival and the bands that have me most interested are bands from…you guessed it…the nineties. Modest Mouse, who I first saw in the fall of ’9614, open the fest on Friday night before an also-reunited Jon Spencer Blues Explosion15 takes over Saturday. Pavement headlines the Sunday lineup. Sure, there are other bands16 playing the weekend-long fest in Chicago, but I am most excited about the three bands with ties to last century.
What is wrong with me? It’s not like all my living happened between 1990 and 1999. I grew up in the ’80’s. I don’t want to look like the eighties or dwell on music from that decade17, but it is a big part of me. The aughts are even more wrought with life-altering experiences. The last decade has seen me switch jobs and careers, get married, move nine-hours from my home, and become a parent18. It’s as if the Y2K bug went off in my head, making everything since seem like a hallucination.
Maybe we just stick with what we know best. It gets harder and harder to expand our knowledge base or interests as we grow older. Some of us slow more than others, but we all quit trying to some extent as our responsibilities mount and youthful exuberance fades.
Then again, I think we gravitate to what comforts us the most. It may also be what we know best, but we return for that solace and control of a well-worn pair of jeans, ratty old couch, or warped and scratched LP quicker than learning something new. Is there anything wrong with that?
The trouble happens when we try to force the “good ole days” on everyone else. We reminisce ad nauseum about how things were better back then, completely discounting the experiences of those who are not of our generation19 but, more importantly, our own experiences before and since. Pavement and other nineties’ indie bands meant a lot to me, but that doesn’t mean a Titus Andronicus20 shouldn’t be meaningful to you or me.
Our heads begin to swell at some point with knowledge and experience, good and bad. We no longer have any room for new information, so it pours out in an effort to keep anything new from entering our consciousness.
So, I will probably continue to live in the nineties. LeBron is no Jordan. Riot Grrrls are the new face of feminism. We’d right this country’s course if Bill were in charge again. Pavement is still the best band in the world…
Don’t give up on me, though. I still have room for something new. Hell, I am in for a whole lotta new as my daughter ages. That and I still follow music, read, and generally pay attention. I may be perpetually living in the nineties, but I do have the capacity to learn and grow.
Notes:
1…and cooch-flavored cigars. Sorry. Apparently my humor is also stuck in the nineties. Who could resist a Clinton/Lewingsky reference? Not this guy.
2Perceived or otherwise.
3Let’s face it. The 18-35 year old in me was excited. Still is.
4This was meant to come off as sarcastic, cynical even. The trend seems to be start a band, record one or more memorable albums, release them on an indie, create some buzz, break up, reunite once all the “money” is spent, and make some major bank.
5First, see above. Second, these two represent the two extremes of the reunited indie band. The Pixies pieced together several classic records and toured the shit out of their livers and waistlines. Then, they reunited…twice. Slint, on the other hand, really only recorded one great album. Sure, it was Spiderland, but it was only one album and a smattering of shows. They were able to garner a lot of fame and cash from that one release. Of course, it was Spiderland.
6And, in all honesty, for pathetic losers like me who will buy said greatest hits collection even though I own a copy of every track on that comp.
7Despite the stories of terrible live shows which often featured sub-par drumming and SM chastising other band members for not playing their parts correctly, a Pavement set was a memorable rock show.
8I’m never quite sure of the number. I do know that I didn’t see them ten or more times and it was certainly no less than five. Similarly, I saw Guided By Voices well over ten, twelve times, but I’m not sure how many. It’s also like that for Modest Mouse and Built to Spill. I told you that I was stuck in the nineties.
9This explains the number of GBV shows in my pocket.
10So slow that I remember turning down a chance to see them in an art gallery in the spring of ’94. I either didn’t have any money (maybe a $4 cover) or was with a girl or a combination of the two.
11Remember, it was the nineties. Grunge cannot be held against me. That and the number of flannel shirts I wore.
12This was the Lollapalooza that they were blamed for destroying. However, I seem to remember a pregnant Sinead O’Connor playing either just before or right after Pavement. Just sayin’.
13Sorry. Somewhere it is written that the words “slacker” and “lo-fi” must accompany everything said on the Internet and/or glossy magazines concerning Pavement. I believe Spin proclaimed this in 1994.
14Completely by accident. A local band I liked was opening for this “mouse band” at Bernie’s. At a friend’s urging, I hung around to stand behind a pole, completely unaware of what was about to be unleashed. I know that it is hard for folks to imagine a time when Modest Mouse was edgy and punk, but I assure you, dearest reader, it happened.
15The Hipsters have no idea what’s about to happen to them. Jon Spencer will make them submit to his every whim. Judah Bauer will strike fear into every dude with a mustache and Russel Simmons will induce migraines with every blow to his kit. You’ve been warned, Chicago…in a footnote of a blog no one reads, but you’ve been warned.
16I’m most excited/interested to hear/see Broken Social Scene, Bear in Heaven, Titus Andronicus, Panda Bear, CAVE, Sleigh Bells, Here We Go Magic, Cass McCombs, Girls, Lightning Bolt, and St. Vincent.
17I’m not counting anything from the hardcore scene or Manchester, England. Those are things I discovered much later and still enjoy. My musical tastes were limited to whatever Casey Kasem brought me on Sunday mornings.
18All long stories which will more than likely not be discussed on this blog.
19That’s X for those of you who are keeping score. Technically, I’m on the tail-end of GenX, like my parents are barely Boomers.
20I am loving their new record. A review will follow shortly. Hopefully.
Womyn’s History Month
OK. So, I don’t know that this piece is post-worthy or not. I’ve had no time to work on it and really don’t care anymore. There were to be pictures and videos and possibly more footnotes than you could shake a stick at, but I’ve done as much with this as I can. It’s time to move on. Be nice in the comments. I have things to say in the coming days and weeks. Don’t unsubscribe just yet.
I used to teach fourth grade1. Every year, I’d make my students study up on Black history in February and women’s history in March. One student asked why they had to study about women for a whole month. I explained that every other month was men’s history month. The boys in the class thought this was great, but I squelched their celebration with the revelation that this isn’t fair to only recognize the contributions of women for one month a year, something they understood as poor African-Americans in the inner-city2. I earned a lot of respect from my girls that day.
So, it’s March again and it’s still Women’s Womyn’s History Month whether I’m teaching or not. It’s sad that we have to set aside a whole month for such topics just to insure that kids are presented with a balanced perspective on history3, but that’s how it is.
If I wanted my daughter to follow in the footsteps of any female rocker of the past century, I’d choose Katleen Hanna of Bikini Kill and Le Tigre fame4. In the late 80’s/early 90’s, even the underground rock scene was terribly sexist5. Hanna and her merry band of grrrls stuck it to the hardcore boys in the most punk way possible: They made uncompromising, vag-to-the-wall punk rock. Bikini Kill and the like stood up to the boys and put them in their place6.
It wasn’t just about the music. Hanna and others lead a revolution within feminist ranks, calling attention to the racism, homophobia, and classism that once plagued the movement7. Some refer to this era as the onslaught of third wave feminism. Whatever it’s called, Hanna and the Riot Grrrl movement broke down a lot of barriers. Suddenly, it was kewl8 to be feministy and not so hippie-dippy9. Hanna’s brand of feminism spoke to those not totally sure about its causes10.
For a taste of what I’m talking about, check this interview she recently did for GritTV here. Also, one can peruse Bikini Kill memories as told by their fans in the ultimate demonstration of community building over at the Bikini Kill Archive.
Of course, Hanna is just one of many feminists/female-rockers-who-may-or-may-not-be-feminist I’d love for my daughter to look to for inspiration. A top-10 list is below…
1. Kathleen Hanna (Read above.)
2. PJ Harvey – No one rocks or takes more control of their sexuality than Polly Jean Harvey. She is so ridiculously bad-ass that she the same effect on her listeners as a Mick Jagger or Iggy Pop. She’s not classically beautiful, but she gets your attention and tells you how it’s going to be.
3. Kim Gordon – She married a younger man in band mate Thurston Moore. She doesn’t stand out just because she’s the only w0man in the band, but because she’s friggin’ awesome. All that and she invented the baby-t.
4. Beth Ditto – I have never seen more of a punk rock moment than the night six or seven years ago when I witnessed Ditto take it off for the crowd, flaunting her voluptuous body for all the dykes11 in the house. The best moment of that show was when she called out the kid in the “Feminist Chicks Dig Me” t-shirt and informed him that they didn’t.
5. Kim Deal – I know she’s had a rough go of it with the drugs and alcohol, but she is arguably the most successful of all the former Pixies…in terms of record sales. That and she’s from Dayton.
6. Liz Phair – My early exposure to feminism happened when I first listened to Exile in Guyville. It’s been downhill from there.
7. Bjork – Unapologetically weird but not in that creepy, Tori Amos sort of way. No one sings like Bjork or attacks paparazzi like her either.
8. Thao Nguyen – Cool and self-assured, I don’t think any other musician I follow on Facebook sends me more political messages than Thao.
9. All of Sleater-Kinney – They should probably be higher on this list, but it’s not a contest. One member is maybe the best two or three drummers in indie. One member writes the best music blog on NPR’s site and makes a good viral video now and again. The third just belts shit out. When is their reunion tour?
10. Herself – Lucia, my daughter already has demonstrated a love and proficiency in music.I only hope that I will do enough to encourage her growth. Either way, she should always look to herself for inspiration in both her feminism and musicianship.
I know I’m missing someone. Who are you honoring this Womyn’s History Month?
Bonus Non-Rocker: Angela Davis – How many folks have ever had a former Black Panther as their professor? Davis talked the talk and walked the walk way before the Riot Grrrls. She is still one bad mother.
Notes:
1It’s a long story, but I may find myself back in a classroom yet.
2I mean, Black History is not only given a month itself, but it’s been relegated to the year’s shortest month. What kind of racist shit is that?
3Of course, I realize even these special months do not insure a balanced approach to history. For that, we must depend on Texas to make the right decisions and we know how fruitless that will be.
4Actually, I’d choose her mama, but in the interest of keeping this blog universal and devoid of too much personal information, I’ll leave her out of it. I’ll just say that my partner is the smartest and most thoughtful person I know, a perfect role-model for our daughter.
5Sans a more-enlightened rocker like, say, Ian MacKaye. Either way, there was not a lot of room at hardcore shows for girls and women. Hell, there wasn’t even a lot of room for those of us guys who don’t need to thump our chests and tear off our shirts.
6I could insert some emasculating idiom here, but it would defeat the point. The idea is to turn shit around on the boys. It’s always about sticking women back in the kitchen and all that, but why don’t we make the boys fix our sandwiches??
7OK. It still plagues the movement and many other movements. However, what Hanna and the Riot Grrrl movement did do was teach us to critically look at all perspectives, especially those that have been so embraced by our communities for a certain length of time.
8Sorry for the Carles slip there. I have been reading too much Hipster Runoff lately. Lucky for you, I am usually able to avoid such a miscue.
9FYI, I really don’t care for hippies, but I now just find them harmless, useless.
10By this, I mean boys like myself who were pulled in by the rock rawk.
11I mean this only in a loving way. I am reclaiming the term for my lesbian sisters and brothers.
Celebrating Voyeurs
There’s a documentary film festival in this town. The people here love it. Folks either attend or they volunteer1.
True/False is that festival. It’s an eclectic gathering of filmmakers, musicians2, and film-lovers for one weekend near the end of February. Featured are some of the best and brightest of independent, nonfiction film3. Despite the global essence of the films, the feel of the festival is completely local as the citizens of Columbia, Missouri come out and do their part to make a pretty spectacular festival happen.
Documentary/nonfiction films are stories which reveal some truths about the subjects they cover, but what do they reveal about the audience who flock to central Missouri every year? What’s the motivation to see ten or so films historically reserved for PBS or the classroom over the course of a weekend? Why all the fuss?
Nonfiction films take the audience to places they’ve never been, in the company of people they may never know. Not only do they take us to another place, but these films connect us through commonalities only apparent after 90 minutes of film4. Plus, the artistic expression from the filmmakers can be breathtaking5, humorous6, or horrifically disturbing7; all touching our inner-most emotions.
Nonfiction film does all of that and it satisfies the voyeur8 in all of us. The filmmaker is the lead voyeur who takes us in with her camera. We willingly follow just to gain a peak into an existence we might not otherwise witness. Documentaries are a vehicle for voyeurism to flourish.
True/False celebrates the voyeur in all of us. The filmmakers are our vehicles and they receive heroes’ welcomes in the form of parades9 and standing ovations. Bravo! You widened that keyhole and took a snap shot so that my voyeuristic needs could be met! Thank you, filmmakers and festival organizers. I needed to know about that man and his inventions or those boys at their snooty private school.
Whenever truth is revealed through voyeuristic or other means, various perspectives of a subject or argument are revealed. Nonfiction films are rarely all good or all bad. There is a little of both spread throughout the films at T/F. Just like the festival itself.
After living in Columbia for a few years and getting to know how the community conducts itself, I have learned of some of the ugliness associated with the fest not usually apparent to many festival goers10. There are grudges and political maneuvers. A select few opinions are considered in piecing together the festival lineup, limiting the scope of films represented. Folks scream and yell and quit over passes, perks, etc. Of course, the organizers put on a pretty amazing event despite these bruises and black eyes. The festival represents both the best and worst of our Midwestern college town, much the same way the films do for their subjects.
And what do we voyeurs see in these films?
We see the odd11, the strange12, the unimaginable13. We also see a mirror. Nonfiction films reveal the connections we have with people in completely different circumstances. These films are real. They have heart14.
Speaking of mirrors, The Mirror was the first film I saw over the weekend. It told the story of an ambitious mayor of an Italian village located between mountain ranges in the Alps. Viganella goes without sunlight for 83 days a year until an architect comes up with an idea to construct a giant mirror on the face of a mountain overlooking the village15. As mentioned before, there is the mayor who is the optimist, trying to improve life in his town and its residents. Through conversations in taverns, following local hermits through mountainous trails, and sitting with local clergy, the viewer is exposed to the doubt and beliefs of the town’s people. Is man-made progress always good? What does it mean to live in isolation? Can one ever enjoy peace with the ever-encroaching modern world? What are the consequences of man playing God?
The festival’s opening night film was Smash His Camera. The doc follows one Ron Galella, the godfather of modern paparazzi, and his never-ending quest to take the most revealing photos of celebrities at their most vulnerable16. If ever there was an example of our obsession with the lives of others, it can be found in the pages of the tabloids who pay handsomely for Galella’s photographs. Ethical or not, the fruits of voyeurism fills some sort of void in our lives. If we can’t be rich and famous, we can at least know how the rich and famous live. Galella’s photos and the legacy he’s shaped allows us to do that.
Colony gave the festival audience an insider’s perspective of beekeeping, including the disappearance of bees all over the country. Of course, as voyeurs, we the audience focused on the characters featured, not so much the issues surrounding disappearing bee colonies. One particular family of small-time beekeepers drew additional attention. They were a conservative Christian family, trying to get by in tough economic times as their colony of bees suffered17.
The dark side of voyeurism happens when we judge our subjects. One audience member not only judged this family rather harshly, but she threw the filmmaker under the bus as well. The audience member, who may or may not be an art history professor at the University of Missouri, caused the audience to groan as she berated the filmmaker for including the Christian conservatives and even caused one Twitter user to proclaim her “question” to be the worst in True/False history18.
That is not good voyeurism, Ma’am. A good voyeur simply watches19. She never participates or interferes.
I sort of think the audience member was taken aback by the things one of the “characters” had said. She was then nervous to stand in front of so many people and proceeded to spew way more verbal diarrhea than originally intended. It’s OK, she’s gathered her thoughts and has responded to her critics.
Of course, the weekend was primarily filled with the good kind of voyeurism. We were all lost in the moment as we sat in dark theaters while winter finally relented to the oncoming spring outside20. I saw mostly good-to-great films and heard mostly thoughtful commentary from festival audiences.
For a weekend, 10,000 or so folks got to catch a glimpse into the lives of others while safely sitting in theaters, chapels, and rock clubs of their Midwestern college town.
Were we really voyeurs21? Well, technically no. Voyeurism has more to do with watching sexual acts or naked bodies or even everyday things and gaining some sort of arousal from the act. Most of the films don’t exactly titillate on the levels of true voyeurism, but we do arrive at some level of excitement due to the reality and heart these films demonstrate. For some of us, this is the best thing that happens in Middle Missouri every year. So, that alone causes some excitement.
Even if it’s not voyeurism that I’m describing, it’s still rather enthralling to be a part of such an event. There’s a community built around this festival. Intellectual discussions over difficult issues is commonplace for three or four days. There’s an energy in the air. Is it as much a turn-on to watch a good documentary film as it is for a voyeur to watch a woman change her clothes through a peephole? Doubtful, but it’s close.
(Forgot to mention that my review of The Red Chapel is up at MyMissourian’s T/F blog.)
Notes:
1Well, not everyone. There are those that don’t even know there’s a film festival going on, which is hard to believe considering that Columbia, MO has more journalists per capita than any other city in the country. Others who do not attend do not like the pretentiousness of documentary film nor hipsters.
2Although, I have never really gotten into the music aspect. Sure, I love the acts serenading us between films and that Brody Douglas comes back every year, but I’m not shelling out money for a pass to see bands. I come for the stories.
3Sans my friends over at Carnivalesque Films who have done some amazing work since their last T/F appearances. Seriously, check out their docs.
4Which was more the rule, not the exception this year. The one thing I hate about the film festival is the number of unedited, 250-minute documentaries about some dude (usually the filmmaker himself) on heroin while he tries to save his dying father’s pig farm from bankruptcy despite a long history of incest and veganism.
5See Manufactured Landscapes.
6See The Third Monday in October.
7See Food, Inc.
8Don’t worry. I will address this misuse of the word later.
9Seriously. There’s a March March held every year to open the fest.
10None of which I will go into here. I am not interested in spreading rumors. I’m just making a point that no matter how wonderful I or others think the festival is, it still has its faults. While bothersome, these problems won’t keep me from attending.
11See The Devil and Daniel Johnston.
12See I Think We’re Alone Now.
13See Forbidden Lies.
14See Heart of the Game.
15An idea I thought I would work on the buildings running along Ninth Street that would have kept me warm while walking in the shade. No one else thought this was a good idea.
16He was famously or infamously sued by Jaquelin Onassis for getting a bit too close to his subject. She was the one who suggested the secret service smash his camera.
17They rank somewhere in my top-5 characters at True/Fasle ever.
18And that’s saying something. Right before that, at the screening for Kick in Iran, an audience member asked why there was English written below the Arabic on the uniforms and street signs. Really? Are a you third grader on a field trip to an exhibit on Iran? Nope. You’re an old white guy who asks dumb questions of a really phenomenal filmmaker.
19Well, a good voyeur does a lot of things not worth mentioning here. I realize this, but bear with me. I’ll get to that.
20Really. Spring comes to Middle Missouri around the end of February. It was chilly, but the sun made it almost spring-like.
21Here it is.
Dissatisfied
2010 feels a lot like the Reagan era1. The economy’s in the shitter. Libertarians2 and the like are dominating the political discourse. The difference between the haves and have-nots is embarrassingly large, yet the have-nots are garnering all the blame. Things generally suck right now.
The music of that time spoke to this sense of impending doom3. The hardcore scene spoke to the frustration and paranoia of the working class. Jangly, angst-ridden college rock from Manchester spoke to the fears of the educated. And the music was good because of this uneasiness. There was an urgency that spoke to the last days before nuclear annihilation. More importantly, there was a dissatisfaction with the whole deal.
The Soft Pack4 deliver the discontent with their self-titled LP, channeling the words of Westerberg, Minutemen politic, voice of Lou Reed5, Rollins’ urgency, and Joy Division-like darkness6. The band gets at the dissatisfaction in the air with this record like the musicians of the hardcore 80’s did in their time7. Of course, as the picture of who has brought this blight upon us8 clarifies, so does the sound. Gone are screaming vocals hidden beneath a tidal wave of guitars-turned-to-eleven. Still, the tradition of ferocity and velocity of drums and guitar are very, very present.
Malcontentment is all over this record. The exasperation of unsuccessfully urging others to join your fight describes one of the most frustrating experiences one can have (“C’mon”). It’s especially frustrating when such simple, rudimentary appeals to emotion elicit such fervor while reason and logic are discarded as simultaneously elitist and transparent9.
There’s a negativity toward the good in the world (“Down on Loving”). How can we be so happy with mediocrity all the time? Things are not good just because people think they’re happy.
Mortality is realized only as one looks to grow self-reliant (“Answer to Yourself”). You figure out that the only one you can depend on is yourself. the irony is that you won’t be around long enough to fulfill your potential10.
There’s both the dissatisfaction of where we live11 (“Move Along”) and being a part of something larger than one’s surroundings (“Pull Out”12). It’s a classic contradiction. I hate where I’m living11, but I don’t want to live anywhere else. The grass is greener over there, but I’ll put a fence up so that I don’t have to look at it.
The disgusting over-consumption and selfishness of the rich is called out (“More or Less”). Of course, the term “rich” is relevant. It could mean the über-rich who lament the taxes they pay and the constant fight to keep the poor out. It could also address the consumption of Americans in general. We are a rich and wasteful people.
The dissatisfaction turns sad as the album moves toward its end. The complacency surrounding everyday unsolved murder mysteries is sadly recreated (“Tides of Time”). The energy folks waste arguing over this life while deaths go unexplained day after day is a bit sickening. If it could happen to anyone, it could happen to me. Will I be forgotten13?
A call to arms theme returns since the first track (“Flammable”). The band moves from waiting for others to join the fight into action to burning everything in their path. Just give me a reason and I’ll burn you.
Nothing’s more depressing than the end to a relationship. It’s even worse when it just sort of ends, one person moves on to the next part of their life. The other poor bastard is the one left behind and doesn’t put up a fight14 (“Mexico”).
And maybe the biggest bringers of disgust can be found in the hangers-on, freeloaders, even sycophants (“Parasites”). Some of us live for others to follow every word we sputter15. Even then, we despise these admirers who can’t think critically and take us for who we are16. On the other hand, there are those who can see through the worship to a parasite’s true, pathetic nature. It turns us off from hero-worship, religion, and political zealotry. It causes us to question humanity in general. How can so many of us be so stupid?
Truth be told, I am dissatisfied. That’s maybe why this record spoke to me so clearly. It could also be why I’ve interpreted the message so negatively. But this is what I want from music. I want it to recognize my disillusionment with my station in life. I want to know that someone else feels that way too. Then the dissatisfaction I feel is satisfyingly real, even legitimate.
The Soft Pack makes me feel not so alone the way The Replacements and Afghan Whigs with their own miserable lives expressed in song once did. Sometimes I need a record to remind me, to pinch me. That is what The Soft Pack did for me. If you want to feel happy and good about life, listen to The Black-Eyed Peas or Miley Cyrus17. If you want to feel alive and present, listen to a band like The Soft Pack. Dissatisfaction is guaranteed.
Notes:
1Except, of course, we have a black guy as president. That’s a pretty striking difference.
2Read “tea-baggers” here, but there were no tea-baggers back then, or at least they were in the bath houses. I’m mostly getting at rich, white dudes who want to keep their money so they appeal to a socially conservative agenda to get their way.
3Sans the ghastly pop and hair metal that dominated the charts at the time. I’m referring to the bubbling underground of hardcore scenes and college campuses. Although, maybe all that bad music spoke more to our doomed futures than anything played on your college radio station. If you’re still reading this footnote, you have clearly realized that I have digressed.
4Formerly The Muslims. I wonder why they changed their name?
5I’m thinking more Velvet Underground era, not Berlin and beyond.
6With some New Order jangles sprinkled throughout.
7Except that The Soft Pack have the advantage of the Internet and the groundwork those seminal groups laid.
8I’m talking the disgustingly rich and greedy corporations here.
9Obama suffers and succeeds because of both. W only appealed to the emotions of his base.
10Look at any number of rock stars who died in their prime, usually at the age of 27.
11I once blogged this point into the ground. Maybe you’ve read that blog.
12This song so reminds me of Pavement’s “Two States,” but instead of splitting California into north and south, The Soft Pack support the state’s succession from the union.
13I often have visions of dying too soon due to an aneurysm, randomly driving off the side of the road, or both. I just wanted that to be somewhere in writing. Is that morbid?
14This once happened to me. I was left behind, but don’t worry. I was well over the relationship for a while as my girlfriend had been planning her exodus for several months. So, it’s cool.
15To subscribe, look under “Daddy’s Work” to the right. Click on “Entries RSS” and take me to your reader.
16This does not refer to you, dear reader.
17This is how out-of-touch I am with mainstream music. Should I have used Lady Gaga instead?
Beer and Pavement 
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