Last Sunday Moose and I saw the Avett Brothers at the House of Blues. I've been to a few shows recently - some really good ones - and this one I actually enjoyed the most. I was blown away. These guys are a mesmerizing mix of sentimentality and tongue in cheek narrative manifested through a raucous southern, blue grass, country, punk romp.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Maybe it's the Third World Maybe It's His First Time Around
Emmett's going to grad school in the UK for water engineering. Presumably to bring clean water to the third world upon completion of his studies. Or perhaps to make a bigger, better Brita filter. Regardless, he's promised a blog per day. At least someone's got something to say.
Emmett has a dry wit that often makes me feel inadequate. Read his blog so you can feel inadequate too.
Monday, October 12, 2009
2 for 2 in 2
Sadly, I'm too old for concerts on consecutive nights. At least I thought I was when I realized last Wednesday that Grizzly Bear was playing at the Orpheum on Thursday night, having
long ago committed to a Built to Spill show on Friday night. Just the same, the memory of watching Grizzly Bear's Cemetery Gates on Wednesday night fresh in my mind, the notion of missing this opportunity was too much to BEAR.
Going back about a year, I happened upon their video for "The Knife". Under the influence of controlled substances, my mind was sufficiently blown. I couldn't get my hands on Yellow House, the band's second studio album, fast enough. For a considerable time thereafter I struggled to put my finger on the reason or reasons I found Grizzly Bear so decidedly forgettable. So forget about them I did, until the release of their most recent effort, Veckatimest. When a friend brought the video for "Two Weeks" to my attention I was reeled back in, temporarily. Eventually, similarly to the album that preceded it, I had listened to Veckatimest over and over again without being blown away; never humming along to anything besides "Two Weeks". And yet I was confused by this, like I was somehow missing something.
The fog began to clear last Wednesday night while watching a live performance on my lap top: I actually have a beef with their production. The key to Grizzly Bear can be found in subtlety, and their production doesn't account for this. With the volume at reasonable levels I can't tell anything interesting is going on with their music. Or rather, I can tell, I just can't hear it. Turn the knob clockwise and suddenly my eardrums are bleeding. Cemetery Gates (which you can watch by clicking on its first mention above) solved this problem for me. Cemetery Gates solved it so well, in fact, that I ended up going to the concert by myself, save for three nips of Jameson. Easily the least hip person in attendance, I gleefully took my seat in the eleventh row, dead center, like the aging dork that I've become. Over the course of the next few hours, however, I came to realize I had also been hung up all this time on time signature changes that didn't jibe with my expectations. The often gentle instrumentation and pitch perfect singing of Grizzly Bear bestows a false anticipation of a pop sensibility that isn't there. These guys aren't for the meek, despite what their singing voices would have you believe.
Juxtaposed, I met Steve Tallent at my apartment at 7:00pm the following night for beers and Yankees. Some several hundred beers and a Yankee walk-off win later found four of us walking downstairs at the Middle East just before Built to Spill took their seminal brand of guitar centric indie rock to the stage. Not long after having heard Built to Spill for the first time, it became very apparent to me that I needed to see these guys live for the full experience. Well, no surprises. Dough Martsch (beard and hat) and Co. sound of Dinosaur Jr., Modest Mouse, and maybe a little Pavement. Or perhaps more accurately, Modest Mouse, Pavement, and Dinosaur Jr. sound a bit like Built to Spill. Emerging from the fertile (?) Boise, Idaho underground in 1993, I can't help but admire the way Built to Spill has made a living putting on shows like last Friday's; a very comfortable evening of writhing air guitar and sing along in the company of others who seemed to be enjoying the same.
Juxtaposed, I met Steve Tallent at my apartment at 7:00pm the following night for beers and Yankees. Some several hundred beers and a Yankee walk-off win later found four of us walking downstairs at the Middle East just before Built to Spill took their seminal brand of guitar centric indie rock to the stage. Not long after having heard Built to Spill for the first time, it became very apparent to me that I needed to see these guys live for the full experience. Well, no surprises. Dough Martsch (beard and hat) and Co. sound of Dinosaur Jr., Modest Mouse, and maybe a little Pavement. Or perhaps more accurately, Modest Mouse, Pavement, and Dinosaur Jr. sound a bit like Built to Spill. Emerging from the fertile (?) Boise, Idaho underground in 1993, I can't help but admire the way Built to Spill has made a living putting on shows like last Friday's; a very comfortable evening of writhing air guitar and sing along in the company of others who seemed to be enjoying the same.Saturday, October 10, 2009
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Dumber & Dumb
Preamble:
Marty’s a close friend of mine even though he works in the self-aggrandizing, self-important world of high finance. I exaggerate and I kid. I actually like everyone he’s felt compelled to introduce me to, but I’m trying to paint a picture for the purposes of what will assuredly be another mediocre story. But I digress, Marty’s mildly successful, works hard, and, in keeping with his peers, takes himself very seriously. Coincidentally, he works “on the same desk” as someone else named Seamus. Together, they are the mover and shaker’s mover and shaker, wheeling and dealing all over the eastern seaboard in expensive suits and Vineyard Vines ties.
Story:
Cell phone rings at 7:00am. I’m out of it. That’s an understatement. My eyes actually well up with tears when the highlights of Minnesota’s 12th inning victory over Detroit culminate in frenzied celebration. I’m clinically brain dead. I’m watching SportsCenter at almost no volume, so as not to awaken the slumbering dictator in the other room, while putting the finishing touches on a carefully crafted work ensemble. The phone’s ringing catches me off guard and by “catch me off guard” I mean I jumped a little and shrieked like a mouse.
“Hello?”
“Seamus, it’s Jennifer from New York.”
“Uh…. Uhhhh…… Hi Jennifer.” At this point, I’m beginning to think she’s someone from home office but have no real clue. Her name doesn’t ring familiar, and I can’t think of anything I have going on at work that would require a 7:30am cellular phone call from home office.
“Jennifer Toll. I know you’re traveling today, but I need to set up a conference call between you, Logan Stilton, Thadius Redclay, Tristrom Barstove III, and Terence Wilforke.”
I’m traveling today? Am I supposed to be traveling today? Shit! “Ok! Let’s do it. What do you need from me? Ready when you are.” Shit! Where the hell am I supposed to be going today?!”
Wait a second! Logan Stilt? That sounds familiar.
“Jennifer?”
“Seamus?”
“Jennifer, do you think I’m Seamus Parker?”
“You’re not Seamus Parker?”
“I’m Seamus O’Connell. Although you can’t tell right now over the phone, I’m actually much better looking than Seamus Parker. Did Marty put you up to this?”
“Mr. Martino gave me your number.”
“Mr. Martino is Martin. Don’t let him fool you. He’s an idiot.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience!”
“Jennifer, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m actually a little disappointed. I really wanted to be on that call. Sounds like a doozy. Tell Seamus, Logan Stilton, Thadius Redclay, Tristrom Barstove III, Terence Wilforke, and Mr. Martin that I said hello. We’ll really need their best heading into the heart of the 4th quarter here if this flagship international corporation is to remain afloat.”
“Will do.” She laughs uncomfortably because I sound serious, but also like I have no idea what I’m talking about.
"Click."
Moral of the Story: This is what I love about Marty: just when I think I’m rock bottom stupid on some random, rainy morning, he was actually even dumber, first.
Marty’s a close friend of mine even though he works in the self-aggrandizing, self-important world of high finance. I exaggerate and I kid. I actually like everyone he’s felt compelled to introduce me to, but I’m trying to paint a picture for the purposes of what will assuredly be another mediocre story. But I digress, Marty’s mildly successful, works hard, and, in keeping with his peers, takes himself very seriously. Coincidentally, he works “on the same desk” as someone else named Seamus. Together, they are the mover and shaker’s mover and shaker, wheeling and dealing all over the eastern seaboard in expensive suits and Vineyard Vines ties.
Story:
Cell phone rings at 7:00am. I’m out of it. That’s an understatement. My eyes actually well up with tears when the highlights of Minnesota’s 12th inning victory over Detroit culminate in frenzied celebration. I’m clinically brain dead. I’m watching SportsCenter at almost no volume, so as not to awaken the slumbering dictator in the other room, while putting the finishing touches on a carefully crafted work ensemble. The phone’s ringing catches me off guard and by “catch me off guard” I mean I jumped a little and shrieked like a mouse.
“Hello?”
“Seamus, it’s Jennifer from New York.”
“Uh…. Uhhhh…… Hi Jennifer.” At this point, I’m beginning to think she’s someone from home office but have no real clue. Her name doesn’t ring familiar, and I can’t think of anything I have going on at work that would require a 7:30am cellular phone call from home office.
“Jennifer Toll. I know you’re traveling today, but I need to set up a conference call between you, Logan Stilton, Thadius Redclay, Tristrom Barstove III, and Terence Wilforke.”
I’m traveling today? Am I supposed to be traveling today? Shit! “Ok! Let’s do it. What do you need from me? Ready when you are.” Shit! Where the hell am I supposed to be going today?!”
Wait a second! Logan Stilt? That sounds familiar.
“Jennifer?”
“Seamus?”
“Jennifer, do you think I’m Seamus Parker?”
“You’re not Seamus Parker?”
“I’m Seamus O’Connell. Although you can’t tell right now over the phone, I’m actually much better looking than Seamus Parker. Did Marty put you up to this?”
“Mr. Martino gave me your number.”
“Mr. Martino is Martin. Don’t let him fool you. He’s an idiot.”
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry for the inconvenience!”
“Jennifer, I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m actually a little disappointed. I really wanted to be on that call. Sounds like a doozy. Tell Seamus, Logan Stilton, Thadius Redclay, Tristrom Barstove III, Terence Wilforke, and Mr. Martin that I said hello. We’ll really need their best heading into the heart of the 4th quarter here if this flagship international corporation is to remain afloat.”
“Will do.” She laughs uncomfortably because I sound serious, but also like I have no idea what I’m talking about.
"Click."
Moral of the Story: This is what I love about Marty: just when I think I’m rock bottom stupid on some random, rainy morning, he was actually even dumber, first.
Tuesday, October 06, 2009
Capitalist Commensalism
Symbiosis describes the close and often long-term relationships between species. Well, let's take one of the subsets of this idea and move it over to the business realm. All the way over, in fact, to hemorrhoid cream manufacturers, and smart phone manufacturers and their service providers. Way I see it, in fact, Preparation H owes Apple, Google, and Blackberry some serious coin. Or at least a back rub.
My sister, who is getting her PhD in evolutionary anthropology, will either be very impressed with this thought process or very disappointed. Either way, you just read this.
My sister, who is getting her PhD in evolutionary anthropology, will either be very impressed with this thought process or very disappointed. Either way, you just read this.
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