it's pathetic!
I haven't written about the wonderful, magical experience that was ACLF.
My excuse: I have been working crazy-ass hours (some 11 hour days) and haven't had the will to come home to write.
The progress so far: I have copious notes, and I've started writing in blog-form about it.
I want to. I just haven't had the goddamn time. But, that's no excuse! I must make the time.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
In Austin
I am about to embark on one of the most anticipated musical journeys of my 26 years of live music living/loving.
On to Austin! For a hodge podge of amazing bands meeting in the most scary state in the union! Sorry--but it is! Fucking scary! I'm such a sheltered Midwestern Girl, when it comes down to it...absolutely terrified of the South, the unknown down there...Hell, you-know-who might be from Texas, but Molly Ivins was from fucking *Austin*, yo! (R.I.P., you rascal.)
I am excited to check it out. I want to explore the city in a major way. We're even going a few days ahead of time and staying longer to enjoy the city (dude, it's the "live music capital of the world." this is awesome.) My friend Tara told me to expect hipsters, of course, but emphasized that they're "Texas hipsters" and told me some of what to expect of Texas and it's "swagger." Gulp.
here's that helluva line-up once again
and here's what I'm positively jumping up and down for:
Bob Dylan
Bjork
The White Stripes!
The Killers
Muse
Bloc Party!
Arctic (fucking) Monkeys!
Regina Spektor
Amy Winehouse (I think she's officially can canceled now ...but you never know with Wino!)
Kaiser Chiefs
Spoon
Hope to scribble notes to put together a semblance of a blog at a later date...damn, that sounded pathetic. Well, lemme put it this way: I'll be having WAY too much fun under the Texas sun, ears filled with music, to be writing...probably. That, and no internet access.
Word.
To quote Mario...Here we gooooooh!
On to Austin! For a hodge podge of amazing bands meeting in the most scary state in the union! Sorry--but it is! Fucking scary! I'm such a sheltered Midwestern Girl, when it comes down to it...absolutely terrified of the South, the unknown down there...Hell, you-know-who might be from Texas, but Molly Ivins was from fucking *Austin*, yo! (R.I.P., you rascal.)
I am excited to check it out. I want to explore the city in a major way. We're even going a few days ahead of time and staying longer to enjoy the city (dude, it's the "live music capital of the world." this is awesome.) My friend Tara told me to expect hipsters, of course, but emphasized that they're "Texas hipsters" and told me some of what to expect of Texas and it's "swagger." Gulp.
here's that helluva line-up once again
and here's what I'm positively jumping up and down for:
Bob Dylan
Bjork
The White Stripes!
The Killers
Muse
Bloc Party!
Arctic (fucking) Monkeys!
Regina Spektor
Amy Winehouse (I think she's officially can canceled now ...but you never know with Wino!)
Kaiser Chiefs
Spoon
Hope to scribble notes to put together a semblance of a blog at a later date...damn, that sounded pathetic. Well, lemme put it this way: I'll be having WAY too much fun under the Texas sun, ears filled with music, to be writing...probably. That, and no internet access.
Word.
To quote Mario...Here we gooooooh!
Saturday, August 25, 2007
<<<<>>>>>
damn. it's good. it's really good. damn, I love this man. I dug it instantly--and could picture it perfectly *live.*
Bruce Springsteen - Radio Nowhere
The first single of the new album Magic. The first new album of Bruce Springsteen with the E Street Band since The Rising (2002)
I was trying to find my way home,
But all I heard was a drone.
Bouncin' off a satellite
Crushing the last long American night.
This is radio nowhere.
Is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere.
Is there anybody alive out there?
I was sitting around a dirt dial
Just another lost number in a file.
Been in some kinda dark cove
Just searching for a world with some soul.
This is radio nowhere.
Is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere.
Is there anybody alive out there?
Is there anybody alive out there?
I just want to hear some rhythm.
I just want to hear some rhythm
I just want to hear some rhythm.
I just want to hear some rhythm.
I want a thousand guitars.
I want pounding drums.
I want a million different voices speaking in tongues.
This is radio nowhere.
Is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere.
Is there anybody alive out there?
Is there anybody alive out there?
(Sax solo)
I was driving thru the misty rain
Yeah, searching for a mystery train.
Bopping thru the wild blue
Trying to make a connection with you.
This is radio nowhere.
Is there anybody alive out there?
This is radio nowhere.
Is there anybody alive out there?
Is there anybody alive out there?
I just want to hear some rhythm (you swoon.)
I just want to hear some rhythm (you swoon.)
I just want to hear you swoon.
I just want to hear you swoon.
I just want to hear you swoon.
I just want to hear you swoon.
I just want to hear you swoon.
I just want to hear you swoon.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
things that make you "cry like a little bitch, man"
Why do we do it to ourselves? Why do we like it?
Why do chicks like movies that make 'em cry? And why do some of us (me, for example) cry at certain songs every time we hear them?
I had this article from the Science Times saved forever (it used to reside on my fridge) and the question posed dealt with the pure emotion that afflicts us when we hear certain music--whether it's joy, goose bumps or even tears. The response said that there had been studies done to see how the brain reacts to certain pieces of music (plug those key words into Google and you'll see loads of studies that have been conducted). Basically, there is still lots up in the air and fodder for debate (culture vs. biology being the main thing).
But, there ain't no doubt about it: certain songs do crazy things to my emotions, and that's why it gets me awf so much. That's why I'm obsessed--I can use it like a drug to change my emotional state...and of course, it's better than drugs, there's no side effects.
Well, unless you consider welling up with tears whist walking down the street. That's what just happened to me, cuz I made the silly (awesome?) choice to hear a sure-fire tearjerker: Joe Strummer's version of "Redemption Song." Mutherfucker. I had to switch it to the goddamn Misfits just so I could get tough again and continue to walk down the street!
Why do chicks like movies that make 'em cry? And why do some of us (me, for example) cry at certain songs every time we hear them?
I had this article from the Science Times saved forever (it used to reside on my fridge) and the question posed dealt with the pure emotion that afflicts us when we hear certain music--whether it's joy, goose bumps or even tears. The response said that there had been studies done to see how the brain reacts to certain pieces of music (plug those key words into Google and you'll see loads of studies that have been conducted). Basically, there is still lots up in the air and fodder for debate (culture vs. biology being the main thing).
But, there ain't no doubt about it: certain songs do crazy things to my emotions, and that's why it gets me awf so much. That's why I'm obsessed--I can use it like a drug to change my emotional state...and of course, it's better than drugs, there's no side effects.
Well, unless you consider welling up with tears whist walking down the street. That's what just happened to me, cuz I made the silly (awesome?) choice to hear a sure-fire tearjerker: Joe Strummer's version of "Redemption Song." Mutherfucker. I had to switch it to the goddamn Misfits just so I could get tough again and continue to walk down the street!
It’s almost like I try again, each time, to see if I can *not* cry. But I always fail. And with “Redemption Song,” it’s incredibly specific for me. I realize that I start to get overwhelmed at the exact same line each and every time: “How long shall they kill our prophets/While we stand aside and look?” sheesh—I’m getting fucking goose bumps just writing the damn thing.
I immediately thought about Chuck Klosterman's essay on the huge L.A.-based, chiefly male, Latino fan base of Morrissey. He opens with a description of a hulking, handsome straight (!) Mexican-American dude that says sometimes he likes to listen to a Morrissey record alone, in his room and cry. He says, "I'm serious. I sit there and I cry like a little bitch, man."
Guess that's exactly what we need to do sometimes, man.
I immediately thought about Chuck Klosterman's essay on the huge L.A.-based, chiefly male, Latino fan base of Morrissey. He opens with a description of a hulking, handsome straight (!) Mexican-American dude that says sometimes he likes to listen to a Morrissey record alone, in his room and cry. He says, "I'm serious. I sit there and I cry like a little bitch, man."
Guess that's exactly what we need to do sometimes, man.
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