and my lips, they don't kiss, they don't kiss the way they used to

Tonight, as I was driving home, I was listening to an old mix that had this Killers song on it. And I was reminded of something that I have thought a lot about before: there are songs and bands (entire band catalogs!) that belong to someone.

Here is what I mean: I cannot hear the Killers or Arcade Fire without thinking of one person. And, even more specifically, one night I spent with this one person. We listened to Arcade Fire that night. But I associate the Killers with him because he is the one that told me, before I ever heard them, that I would love them. And he was right.

But there are others. People I don't see on a regular basis, or people I don't see ever, that are literally with me every time I hear their song. The odd part about this phenomenon is that I think that most of the people who own music for me probably don't know it.

Do you recognize yourself? For each of the following songs, there is only ONE person that I think of, or will ever think of. These are YOUR songs, people. (To make it easy, I'll give you a hint.)

*"At My Window, Sad and Lonely" (You are a sad, sad bastard.)

*"These Days" (You cry in coffeeshops.)

*"When the Children Cry" (You drink slurpees and look at Christmas lights with me.)

*"Okkervil River Song" (We have never heard this song together, but it makes me think of you growing up on the James.)

*"More than a Feeling" (I don't know what to say about this one. You either know who you are, or you don't.)

*"Daydream Believer" (I'd sing it for you at karaoke.)

*"Self-Esteem" (Turn it up. Roll down the windows. Sing along.)

*"All I Want is You" (There is a time when I wanted was you. But you would have made me a U2 widow.)

*"Go Places" (I don't see you anymore. And I don't want to. But I will say that your appreciation of this song persists as one of the best things about you.)

*Anything by the Pet Shop Boys. (I mean, c'mon. How much time did I spend in your bathroom? How could the Pet Shop Boys NOT remind me of you? Of course, I can't hear Rufus Wainwright without thinking of you either.)

*"Your Love" (You are 7 and 9, and you both have this song on your I-pods cuz of me.)

True Confession: I would love to know that I shored up some music for someone else. And maybe something other than the Singing Nun version of "Que Sera Sera."

Further proof that the world is going to hell in a handbasket

I really hate to go back-to-back with GnR-related posts, but them's the brakes.

Yesterday morning on my way to work I heard the GnR version of "Live and Let Die"*. I love this song. I love this version of this song. And so I was shocked to realize that I had been missing, for all these years, one of the worst misuses of grammar in a pop song that I have ever heard. Do you know the line? Do you?

In fact, it was so bad that, for a minute, I convinced myself that Axl Rose had screwed up the lyrics. But it turns out that he did not. This is how the song is written:

When you were young and your heart was an open book
You used to say live and let live
(you know you did, you know you did, you know you did)
But in this ever changing world in which we live in
Makes you give in and cry

OK, now stop singing "You know you did, you know you did, you know you did" in your best dolce voce and pay attention! "IN THIS EVER CHANGING WORLD IN WHICH WE LIVE IN"?! REALLY?! Not only is this grammatically W-R-O-N-G, but it is also stupidly redundant. AND that one sentence includes the offending word "in" no fewer that FOUR times. Again, REALLY?!

Don't we, as Americans, have the right to expect our brothers and sisters across the pond to uphold the standards of the Queen's English? Sir(?) Paul, indeed! Clearly QE too has taken a laissez-faire an attitude about the lyrics of Wings songs.




*I'm using all my willpower here NOT to write a long piece about my conflicted feelings about Wings. I will summarize: as much as I love Sir Paul (and I do), I theoretically hate Wings. I say theoretically, because the truth is that I love a whole bunch of songs from that period. I mean, I never turn the dial when a Wings song is playing. Never. Ever. "Live and Let Die" is a particularly great song.

Listening in the Sweet Spot

So, yesterday I was driving to the 'Couve for work and the Red Hot Chili Pepper's song "Scar Tissue" came on the radio. I have this weird thing about that band. There is something about the sound--and I think that it is the interplay between Anthony Kiedis's voice and Flea's bass--in particular I think it is the fact that they are both so melodic. Which is not a weird thing to say about someone's voice, but maybe is a weird thing to say about bass lines. Anyway, my point is this. Listening to the song, I started thinking about the musical sweet spot.

I assume that everyone has one. But perhaps you call it something else. Let me illustrate: one of my best guy friends in high school (I won't out him, but Qwanty can probably guess) had this thing about being touched on his neck. He had a very immediate and rather pronounced response to being touched there. (Although I'm not sure how exactly it manifested itself, and I don't think I want to think about it much.) But he would literally jump up and thunder, "DON'T TOUCH ME THERE! YOU KNOW NOT TO TOUCH ME THERE!" when someone did it. Bear in mind that, in those days, I was often in situations that necessitated me sitting behind him (on bleachers at football or basketball games, in the backseat of the car while he was driving), and I did know better than to touch him there, but it was just so tempting . . . Anyway, it was a sweet spot.

Or, if another illustration is needed: you might think about when you scratch an itch exactly at its origin. You have that sense of relief and pleasure all at once. It's a sweet spot.

There is certain music that scratches the itch, or hits the sweet spot, aurally. These are sounds that sort of cause a wave of pleasure (and get your mind out of the gutter--this is not a sexual kind of pleasure. It is altogether different.) and a sort of feeling of goodwill. It's music that sounds like it is perfectly scratching some invisible itch in your ear--an itch you didn't even know you had.

I get this same feeling when I hear:

Any of Jeff Buckley's recordings

Post-Soundgarden Chris Cornell

When Michael Stipe sings backing vocals (like on the Indigo Girls's "Kid Fears" or "Tried to be True" or on the live recording of "Love is All Around" from REM's Unplugged episode)

Ditto for Natalie Merchant (as on "Way Over Yonder . . . " from the first Mermaid Ave. album)

Also, Thom Yorke (on PJ Harvey's "The Mess We're In"--a song I absolutely LOVE, or on some Bjork tracks)

There are basically two categories here. The first is guys who have voices like "pissed off angels" (Kiedis, Cornell, Buckley).* They all have sort of gorgeous and smooth voices with an edge. The other category is made up of people who have voices that I tend to find a little too much when they are singing lead, but absolutely perfect in very small doses.

*I can't take credit for the "voice of a pissed off angel" thing. This actually comes from some guy who has a Clockhammer fan site and used that phrase to describe Byron's voice. I actually don't know if I agree with it being applied to the Byronic Hero--although it's hard to say, since I never heard him sing live.

My sister-in-law had a gig at Duff's Garage (I love this website, by the way. Don't go to Austin, indeed!) tonight with her "Sentimental Gentlemen." Man, that girl can sing. She's also super cute.

But it's a weird scene. I just don't know what to do with a bunch of adult males (and it was pretty man-heavy in there tonight) who basically dress in costume to go out on a random Monday night. My favorite guy there was this older Japanese guy who had the slicked-back do, and a rockabilly jacket (with embroidered Asian motifs all over it), and Dockers. There was also a guy who looked like he was a 4th place winner at an Iggy Pop look-alike contest, and another one who was a dead ringer for Legs McNeil.

It was a good show. Joy's new lineup is really tight (even though the new bass player looks more like a member of Weezer than a guy in a country-swing band) and she sounded great. If you get a chance you should come see them play.

Quick Thoughts

Make of them what you will:

1. My current favorite song is the acoustic version of "Overkill" by Men at Work (actually, originally by Men at Work. This version just by the lead singer guy, Colin Hay.). I'm listening to it on repeat over and over. I think it might be brilliant, but I'm not sure what it is supposed to be about. What I get from it is that it is a discussion of thinking about something (I think a relationship) obsessively. And Colin Hay has a totally beautiful, weird voice. This song was also randomly part of a Scrubs episode from a couple of years ago. Listen to it. Or wait until January--this one will end up on my 2009 year-end mix.

2. In the midst of all the exciting things in my life (?), I totally forgot that Tricky was performing in town on Friday night, and I didn't get tickets, and I didn't go. I'm sort of sad about this. On the other hand, my experience with Tricky shows is kind of like that fairy tale in which the girl puts on those shoes and can't stop dancing and dances right to her death. Or like the Pied Piper leading all the children out of Hamlin. It's hypnotic. And I'm not easily suggestible.

3. I went and saw I Love You, Man today. It was disappointing, which is saying something, because I had super low expectations. What I realized is that I don't want to watch Paul Rudd play some milquetoast straightman for 2 hours. Paul Rudd without edge is just pretty. That is not enough, particularly when I know the edge is there to be had. Also, it is weirdly a romantic comedy, and that is, hands down, my least favorite genre of film. Yuk. I will say this though--I find humor centered on Rush fairly effective, as well as any running gag in which someone tries to do impressions/accents and always sounds the same. I do not, however, find Lou Ferringo humor funny in the least.

4. I am really angry that I am going to be forced to watch that X-Men Wolverine Origins nonsense film. I don't like comic-films (second least favorite film genre--after romantic comedies), but Liev Schreiber I love. And he's going to be all cat-like. So I have to see it, but I don't have to like the fact that I have to see it.

5. The Space Room is not the same since the smoking ban. It still has the best jukebox, cheapest drinks, and most accurate day-glo wall mural of the Portland skyline in town, but it isn't the same. How am I going to remember that I was even there in the morning if I can't smell the sin in my hair when I wake up?

Up is Down, Black is White

Everything is all topsy-turvy. I don't know if is the economy, or my own personal circumstances, or what, but I keep asking myself this question:

Is 2009 really my 1991?

Let me explain:

This weird thing has been happening in the last couple of weeks. The weird thing is that, very suddenly, I have started to respond in a noticeably different way to hearing Nirvana on the radio. I have never been a huge Nirvana "fan". I do not own any Nirvana. There are a few songs on my i-pod, maybe. (I borrowed one of Blake's CDs, probably. The same way that H.I.M. found its way onto my i-pod.) Before three weeks ago, chances would have been even between me listening to something by Nirvana if it came on the radio, and turning to another station. But now, it's a sure thing that I am going to listen. There is upwards of an 80% chance that I will even turn it up. It's strange.

And the way I feel? Comforted. And not in a nostalgic kind of way. I'm not nostalgic about Nirvana. Comforted, and happy, as if I am hearing it for the first time and feeling really glad that it is in my life. As if it is something newly good--not oldly good. Which, again, is weird because I never thought it was that "good" to begin with. I mean, I think I have always been little more than indifferent to Nirvana.

How do I explain this? Well, I can't totally. But I have been developing a theory. In 1991 I was doing the following things: 1. learning to drive, 2. writing a lot of notes with multicolored pens, 3. applying to all-women's colleges, 4. picking out hair ribbons that matched my socks and turtlenecks, 5. leading a Camp Fire group--badly. I was also crying a lot, since one of my two best friends was moving to Norway (the one who was not Qwanty). Actually, come to think about it, I was crying a lot generally. I was one weepy teenager. I was also listening to a lot of Erasure and Kon Kan, thanks to Buzo-created mixes, and Music for the Masses over and over again. There was probably also a lot of Roxette and "Unbelievable" and "Groove is in the Heart" playing in my life that year too. (Camp dances. Pep assemblies. Car rides.) I knew that Nirvana was around, but it wasn't a big part of my reality. And I was not feeling particularly angsty, or angry, or disaffected. I was much, much too suburban and honor societied-out for that.

But now? Oh, G--. At 34 I think I'm turning into a 15-year-old boy. I am angry and I sort of want to break stuff. I think that no one understands me. I want to stomp around in heavy boots and clothing made for warmth-and-not-fashion and wear my hair over my face and draw disturbing images in a notebook that I carry around with me all the time. Well, maybe not really. But kinda. Enough that it actually feels eerily good to listen to a tiny blonde dead man scream lyrics that I mostly don't understand into my car.

Pretty Packages

(Well, with it sounding as if Rudy is going to be ok, I can concentrate on other things. Thank goodness. Portland fans are particularly fragile at this point in the season.)

Two separate events have led to this post. First, OMD dropping the "Enola Gay" lyrics last week on the Make-Ready. This made me start to think about OMD the band. Second, hearing a 3-play from the Beastie Boys during a "menage a trois" weekend on KUFO this past weekend. As it turns out, Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark and the Beastie Boys are both bands that have produced albums that I think are almost perfect. And by that, I do not mean that they are amongst the greatest albums of all time, necessarily. What I mean is that there is something truly wonderful about listening to them from beginning to end. What I mean is that they have a sort of integrity as a whole that I appreciate and enjoy. Here are five examples of what I mean:

The Best of OMD: Ok, it might be super-lame to include a best of album. But hear me out. The album is organized chronologically. And if you sit and listen to it over one sitting, you get to really hear the progression of the band (and I daresay it is representative of a lot of the electronica bands that formed in the late 70s/early 80s and stayed together through the mid-90s) from synth-heavy to synth/rock balanced. Think Depeche Mode. The difference between an album like Speak and Spell (which is probably unfair to talk about, since it so clearly is influenced by the contributions of Vince Clarke, but, well, you know) and an album like Violator is really the proportion of synth elements to instrumental elements, and, particularly, the obvious guitar presence. Anyhoo, it is pretty satisfying to hear that progression taking place over the course of one album. The other thing I like about this as whole is the fact that OMD is actually a strangely versatile band. You wouldn't think so, right? But there is a lot of variety. There are tracks that are clearly dance-y, some that are croon-y, some that are sort of epic sounding. (Well, epic in that alternative-dance-music kind of way). And they are a band that has been often experimental, either with their sound or in their lyrics. For example, I am always sort of surprised when I listen to songs like "Electricity" and "Telsa Girls." What kind of songs are these, anyway? I have a hard time figuring out what these songs are FOR.

For example. The song "If You Leave" is one of the most inexplicable pieces of music I can imagine. The comments that follow, of course, are influenced by the approximate 83 times that I have seen Andrew McCarthy get bleary-eyed over Molly Ringwald's fugly homemade dress in Pretty in Pink (arguably the movie I know the best in the entire world, although my knowledge of Heathers is also impressive). "If You Leave" is a completely inappropriate song to play at a prom, or any dance of any sort. Unless it is a dance where no one is supposed to dance. It is not fast enough to dance alone (you know, alone in a group) to. The lyrics suggest that it is a love song, but it is not slow enough to slow dance to. It's just a bit too dance-y. It's impossible. Whatever you do, you end up looking like an idiot. It makes sense that Blane and Andie go out into the parking lot to make out in front of some headlights (although it does not make sense why Andie cannot hold onto her purse and smooch Blane at the same time). They look stupid, but they look a lot less stupid than their classmates who are inside, trying to decide whether "If you Leave" is a couples or all skate.

The best song on this album, by the way, is "So in Love", which is almost in the middle of the CD version of the album. If you don't listen to the words, you might think that this is a super romantic song. It is not. It is cold and bitter. Sung sweetly. Good music for watching yourself cry in the mirror to. (I mean, I assume so. If you were into that sort of thing.)

License to Ill: This may be the only album that I own on vinyl, cassette AND CD. Really. I think it is one of the best ROCK albums of all time. Disagree. Go ahead. I've given you lots of ammunition in that statement. I get it. But it rocks. Hard.

But this is not why I like to listen to it beginning to end. I like to listen to it beginning to end because I also think that it is a great piece of storytelling. For years, I talked about writing an article called "Narrative Structure in License to Ill." I'm not ever going to actually do it, but I do think that it's fascinating. First of all, the narration is shared. This, of course, isn't weird given the rap/hip hop influences of the Beastie Boys. What IS weird though is that the narration itself is phenomenally linear and traditional. (And by traditional, I mean downright DWG traditional.) It is even folky. Seriously. Their stories often have clear beginnings, middles, ends. There is fairly little meta-discourse--fairly little editorializing. The "morals" come directly from the stories themselves. THERE IS NO DOUBLE CONSCIOUSNESS IN BEASTIE BOYS SONGS. This may be obvious. They are middle-class Jewish boys (were boys). It is a completely different narratological strategy from the tradition that they are, presumably, borrowing from. It's also part of the reason that the record has been sort of personally embarrassing to them. (More on this in a moment.)

But the narratives are shared. There are clearly three voices, but, arguably, only one perspective. Stories are dropped by one speaker and picked up by another. But the sense is that all three voices are in agreement about the events in the songs and the interpretation of those events. While there is some differentiation between the personalities, it is slight and rather one-dimensional. (Um, like Ad-rock is the sort of the kooky one.) What makes this especially interesting is what that perspective IS. It is the perspective of really, really dirt-baggy young men. It is about bravado, a lack of understanding of mortality or other consequences of action. It is about a lack of sensitivity. It is about a lack of responsibility generally. And what is awesome about that is that it is a kind of reflection of reality of a particular kind of guy. A guy who TOTALLY exists in this world, but rarely has an outlet (or the creativity or the native intelligence) to honestly express himself. I'm not saying that this was really who any of these guys were at the time. What they created was a self-consciously constructed narrative voice (in three parts). It is also not to say that it wasn't really who these guys were at the time. The reason that it works, and that it is convincing, is because there was some truth to it. But that is also why they felt a need to apologize to women (including their mothers and significant others) years after the album. It was offensive. It does suggest, and even say outright, some pretty awful things about women. I don't care. It's not like some boys (here I am being very intentional with my language) don't really say those things--further, it isn't like some don't really think those things. The expression of the ideas puts them on the table in a productive way. The fact that they are self-consciously constructed versions of those ideas (constructs that, in and of themselves contain some irony and self-mocking), make them somewhat more safe versions of the real-world attitudes that they represent.

Like a book of short stories, License to Ill presents its audience with a series of themes, and variations upon them. The album is littered with references to White Castle, slutty and criminal women, unnecessary violence. The repetition and variation of these themes over the course of the album creates a portrait of a dystopic white teenage wasteland. It isn't an accurate portrait of late 1980s Jewish Brooklyn or the Jersey suburbs, but it IS, it seems to me, an accurate portrait of how those environments might be perceived by dirtbag teenage boys, characterized by their extreme self-centeredness and myopia.

Plus, did I mention that it rocks? That it is completely listen-able? That it is often very funny and witty--on both the lyrical level and in terms of the sampling?

Abbey Road: To be fair, I suppose that I should remind my readers that Abbey Road might, in fact, be my favorite album of all time. Certainly it is my stuck-on-a-desert-island-with-only-one album. I'm starting to get really long winded here, so I will limit myself. The very best thing about this album is that it represents all of what the Beatles offered in their (relatively) short career. There is a good, and ultimately radio-friendly love song ("Something"), psychedelia ("Because"), a straight ahead rock and roll song ("Come Together") a MEDLEY!, and a goofy Ringo song ("Octopus's Garden", which, if you have been paying attention, you know was my introduction to the Beatles.) If I ever have a boy child, I will name him Maxwell. After "Maxwell's Silver Hammer." Is it a cliche to name a child after a Beatles song? Maybe. Do I care? No. Suck it.

Listening to Abbey Road, like reading the novel Frankenstein, is enriched by knowing the story behind it. Not only does it encompass all the facets of the Beatles' sound, it also has a narrative trajectory ("Come Together"--an invitation to gather, to "The End") and is made more moving by the fact that it represents the end of band altogether. This is part of the brilliance too of the John and Paul sides of the album. It is split in two. Two sides of one coin. Two different voices that must be contained, yet cannot be contained together. The metaphoric potential--

And, of course, don't get me started on the cover art . . .

Louder Than Bombs: Oh damn. Another compilation. I'm not very good at this, am I? But really, it's a lovely package. You might notice some themes by now. There is variety on this disc, right? You have the black songs like "Asleep" and "Unlovable", the dance-y "William, It Was Really Nothing" and "Sheila Take a Bow", and the super, super, super sexy "Hand in Glove" and "Rubber Ring." ("Rubber Ring" is one of the MOST sexy songs I can think of, actually. It's up there with "So Alive" and "Low" and "Hey Pretty"--but I digress.) Sure, often Moz's lyrics are completely self-indulgent and insipid, but they are accompanied by Johnny Marr's guitar, and what could be LESS self-indulgent and insipid than that? (Oh, Johnny Marr.)

And that's another thing about the album--that same yin/yang quality provided by the Lennon/McCartney partnership. There is something amazingly satisfying about what comes out of partnerships with tension. (Not interpersonal tension--creative tension. I don't believe that interpersonal tension is necessary for creative tension. So there.)

"Ask" is maybe my favorite song on the album. I'm shy! I'm coy! I need to be coaxed! If I were a sensitive dude, I would also spend my summer inside, writing poems to some girl in a European city-state!

***
You will notice that I am beginning to get rummy. I've been writing for a long time now. And I am also drinking afternoon beer. As a result, this is turning into a noticeably inconsistent post.
***

Yankee Hotel Foxtrot: In general, I am somewhat conflicted about Wilco and about Jeff Tweedy (who, mostly, I think is sort of annoying). And I know that this is an enormously popular album. But, really, it is lovely, from start to finish. I think that what makes this such a well-packaged album is the transitions. There is nothing jarring about them. One song feeds sort of seamlessly into the next. And it isn't that the whole album sounds the same (oh, does it? I don't think it does.), it is more that there is a strong internal logic to the tracks and the way that they are arranged.

The first time I ever listened to this album was the day after one of the most fun parties I've ever been to. It was at Jane's parents' house, which is, well, an unusual place. The party was HUGELY eventful. The next day, I went to Jane's, ostensibly to help her clean the place (we drank out of "real" glasses, so there was a lot of cleaning to do). But really, we spent most of the day sitting in the living room, with all the windows open, and the gauzy curtains blowing, listening to Yankee Hotel Foxtrot on continuous play, while we debriefed about the party for hours. The only thing that really marked the time was the way that the light changed in the room. We must have sat there for six hours.

Now, good memories related to an album is not enough to land it on this list. What does land it on the list is this: listening to YHF is actually just like sitting in a living room while light changes and a slight breeze rolls through. It is time passing without notice.

And it contains the cutest KISS-related song of all time, which always makes me think of Chuck Klosterman now.

***
Are you (the plural you) still reading? There are others too, but this is fairly representative of what I mean. When Chinese Democracy came out in the fall, Klosterman wrote that it was the last album that would be considered as a whole, thanks to our current music-delivery technology. I hope that isn't true. There is something about the whole of something--songs strung together with some sort of intention--that is, well, more than the sum of the parts. This is why I love (and fear for) the art of the mix--there is much that can be expressed in the art of the compilation.

Happy Birthday!

I just returned home from the second and final night of Mikey J's birthday extravaganza 2009. (He mildly objects to the "extravaganza" part, but that's how I like to think of it.)

Tonight was the mellow part of the celebration--dinner at Dots (eat your heart out displaced Portlanders!) and our now customary Friday night drinks at North, which we redecorated in our heads as we downed our bevies.

For his birthday, I got Mike tickets to the Reading Frenzy benefit at Holocene last night. It made me happy to be able to support RF, which is my favorite alternative media outlet. I also figured it would make Mike happy to attend an event where he could see Carrie Brownstein (who was showing some of her Thunderant shorts) and Corin Tucker, who was playing a short set of all-new solo songs. He loves those Sleater-Kinney girls!

There were also a couple of readings, and other bands (we both sort of liked Explode into Colors) and there were a lot of hipsters. Mike had a few drinks, and found one guy and one girl who he wanted to rumble with. The guy, he argued, deserved an ass kicking for sporting a ridiculous mullet-becomes-a-rat-tail. The girl's offence was wearing overly ironic garb. She was dressed like Bailey from WKRP, but she wasn't as cute. He kept his cool though. During Tucker's show a drunk, loud, obnoxious S-K fangirl almost got a beat down. I could have gotten behind that one. She was truly deserving. But, ultimately, Mikey is a lover (so I hear), and not a fighter. Thus, she got off easy with just a well-justified verbal lashing.

We also heard a horrible short story about a giant slug and a "vixen" named Teresa, delivered by the guy behind How's Your News and we saw one of the ladies that Mike has recently been on a date with. All in all, it was an entertaining evening.

Happy birthday, Mikey J! The anniversary of your birth is something worth celebrating.

One more

for Qwanty. (And maybe also for J-Bro, if she's out there somewheres.)

We went to the Delta for a little Portland soul on my birthday. And by "Portland soul" I mean corn and black eyed pea fritters and a lovely drink that was made with Earl Grey-infused vodka and soy milk (over ice). The dinner party was made up of myself, my parents, Ryan, Joy, and my lovely niece and nephew.

They were playing the Beach Boys. This pleased my niece, who loves her some Beach Boys, some Buddy Holly, and some Joan Jett. (Go figure.)

This also led to a startling revelation about my mother, the Kare Bear. Apparently, her favorite Beach Boys song is "The Sloop John B." Weird, huh? I didn't know that this was anyone's favorite Beach Boys song.

That Karen is an original.

Protest Songs

Hey Kids--By my watch, it is now officially February 14th. For those of you who are happily coupled, I suggest that you stop reading now and go and do something cute and disgusting with your significant other.

For the rest of you--the bitter, the heartbroken, the lonely--the Make-ready would like to offer you a very special Valentine. Had a dry year? Got dumped unceremoniously right before New Year's? Been cheated on? Grab a Reece's peanut butter heart, or a handful of Hershey's Kisses, and check out some songs that might help you uncelebrate this g--awful, Hallmark-fueled florist fest.

9. "Not the One" The Donnas. Our first date was our last date/You're the kind of guy I love to hate

8. "On the Fire" Holly Golightly Your love is a lie

7. "The Things You Said" Depeche Mode I get so carried away/You brought me down to earth/I thought we had something special/Now I know what it's worth

6. "If Looks Could Kill" Heart Love is on the line--I ain't about to be kind/That's a promise and a threat

5. "For Reasons Unknown" The Killers Well my heart, it don't beat, it don't beat the way it used to/And my eyes they don't see you no more

4. "Love to Hate You" Erasure Love and hate, what a beautiful combination/Sending shivers up and down my spine

3. "All My Little Words" The Magnetic Fields Now that you've made me want to die/You tell me that you're unboyfriendable/And I could make you pay and pay/But I could never make you stay

2. "You Look Through Me" Book of Love You looked right through me/As though I wasn't there/In love with your own image/Completely unaware/'Cuz boys who look right through me/And only like me for what I do/Next time I'll be more careful/Next time, I'll look through you

And for the truly, truly angry:

1. "Ruin" The Pierces I do not want/For you to be happy/I do not want/For you to be happy/All that I want/Is for you to come crawling back

Oh yeah--

I think that my family now has a group favorite song to sing along to. That song would be "Everyday" by Buddy Holly.

Last night, we actually did sit around singing it together. It might be Ella's current favorite song (and she breaks out it in often. In public.).

After we listened to it I heard her say, to no one in particular, "I just really love his voice."

She's a very discerning almost-4-year-old.

Heavy Rotation, Revisited

OK. Here's another one: Hall and Oates, The Cars and Duran Duran.

Also, I would like a station that only played Depeche Mode, The Cure, The Smiths, New Order (have I mentioned the fact that I love Peter Hook?), Erasure, Yaz, and maybe an occasional Book of Love song. I know what you are thinking, long time PDXers. That sounds a lot like 970 the Beat. YES. YES IT DOES. And if this station could be AM and all dirty and rumbley sounding, that would be terrific. I would listen to it ALL THE TIME.

It might have occurred to you readers that maybe an IPod could create the illusion of these heavy rotation stations. But you would be wrong. Because the IPod, for all the wonderful things it can do for me, cannot recreate the joy of hearing something really great (that I haven't heard in a long time) on the radio (or even in a mix made for me by someone else). The problem with the IPod is that there is no real surprise. I've put everything on there. There is no connection to someone else who thought it might be nice to hear "Institutionalized" or "Gypsy" or "Mr. Brightside". It's like getting a really good present when I'm not expecting it.

In honor of the spontaneity and unexpectedness that sometimes comes from radio, here is my list of best songs to sing along to in the car:

Runners Up: anything by the mamas and the papas (good harmonies), "The Gambler", "More than a Feeling", "Open Arms", "Ain't Talkin' Bout Love", "Livin' on a Prayer", "Don't Talk to Strangers"

10. "Just Can't Get Enough" Depeche Mode (I suggesting singing "Just Can't Get it Up" to the chorus. It is funny.)

9. "Euro-trash Girl" Cracker

8. "Crucify" Tori Amos (actually, it's hard to pick just one--she's just fun to sing along to period.)

7. "Song 2" Blur

6. "Sabotage" The Beastie Boys

5. "Black Dog" Led Zeppelin

4. "Mother" Danzig (Qwanty, I know you know what I mean!)

3. "Good" Better than Ezra (the happiest break up song pretty much ever)

2. "Sweet Child of Mine" Guns n Roses

1. "Self-Esteem" Offspring

Don't Ever Use this Against Me

Today, while driving home from work, I heard "Sweet Caroline" followed immediately by "Crocodile Rock"* and I had this really embarrassing, but strangely compelling, thought. As the day has worn on, this thought has become a conviction. Don't judge. You know that sometimes you have shameful ideas too.

This is the thought: I think that I would really like it if there was a radio station that played nothing but Neil Diamond, Elton John and Billy Joel.

I'm not saying that I would listen to it all the time. I don't even know if I would pre-program it on my car radio, but I would like knowing that it was there, if I needed to hear those guys in continuous rotation. It would be comforting.

*This is probably my least favorite Elton John song, and I find it just barely more tolerable than "It's Still Rock n' Roll to Me" which is my least favorite Billy Joel tune.

Year-end Mix

One of my favorite traditions that belongs to this time of year is the year-end mix. For many years now, I have been trading mixes with Mikey J and Dr. Awesome that somehow represent the year that has just passed. Last year my mix was populated with songs that all came out in 2007. The year before that, I chose a song that represented each month of 2006 somehow. I know that Mikey and Shane have different kinds of criteria for their mixes.

This year's mix (entitled "Spin it Again") is now done, and mailed off to the regular recipients (or sitting under my tree for Mikey and J-bro and Jane), so I thought I'd "publish" the list here. For posterity, or whatever. Before I do it, I have to say--I have felt very uninspired this year. And I admit that this is mostly a very depressing mix. Which is to say that it sort of befits a mostly depressing year.

*"Ride" The Old 97s
*"Chinatown" Luna
*"Too Drunk to Dream" The Magnetic Fields
*"A Dustland Fairy Tale" The Killers
*"The Bleeding Heart Show" The New Pornographers
*"Disorder" Joy Division
*"Love Song" The Dandy Warhols
*"Stone Cold World" Caroline Herring
*"Librarian" My Morning Jacket
*"All in It" British Sea Power
*"Clouds" The Go-Betweens
*"Lost Coastlines" Okkervil River
*"Mapped by what Surrounded Them" The Twilight Sad
*"Walls" Beck
*"Ruin" The Pierces
*"Believe" The Bravery
and, because it wouldn't be 2008--
*"Madagascar" GnR

(You will notice for the second year in a row, there is no Frank Black on the list---!)

Just for Qwanty

And to thank you for making me feel better, here's something just for you.

Thanks for the comments, guys.

I actually feel like the two comments on my last post deserve a post of their own. So, here are my thoughts.

Felisa: I can't remember ever really disagreeing with you, about anything, ever. But I have to disagree about the Pitt. Going the way of Redford does, indeed, mean aging badly. My theory on this is very simple, if you are a too-pretty man (and this seems to particularly afflict blondes for some reason) you may be a beautiful young man, but you are not likely to age well. I have never been a big Brad Pitt fan and I have said for years that I thought that his looks would not hold up over time. Here is where I must really disagree with you--although I have not seen the film yet (Burn Before Reading), I have seen the previews both on TV and on the big screen. And I don't think that the guy's skin looks good. He looks sort of haggard and he's starting to look weathered. And not in a good Steve-McQueen-Paul-Newman (rest his soul)-Clint-Eastwood kind of way. But in a sad, I-remember-how-good-looking-he-was-in-The-Natural Robert Redford kind of way. Except I never really thought all that highly of the Pitt.

OMD: Yes, I have heard the same rumor about Dr. Pepper promising every American (with the exception of Slash and Buckethead. Which is pretty funny.) a free can of soda if Chinese Democracy actually would come out in 2008. I didn't repeat the story because:

1. I don't know if it is true, or some kind of weird urban legend. And I don't like being responsible for the propagation of an urban legend.

2. I can't imagine how Dr. Pepper would go about distributing a free can of Dr. Pepper to every American.

3. I only care about the story if they will give me my choice of a diet Dr. Pepper. But I kind of doubt it, since diet soda pop is not very rock n roll.

I do think that the whole thing is pretty funny--even if (or especially if) it is all a big hoax. If it isn't, I do think that we should hold Dr. Pepper responsible for the offer.

Now that I think about it, I wouldn't put it past Axl Rose to have finally allowed the album out of the box just to call Dr. Pepper's bluff.

Ok, but really, Dr. Pepper?!!? It's just so freaking random.

Chinese Democracy: Bad Music for All

Gosh. I just realized that I really haven't written much in the last month or so. I've felt a real lack of inspiration, I guess.

But then I heard that the long-awaited (15+ years?) Guns n' Roses album Chinese Democracy is finally and officially being released on November 23rd, 2008.

There are a few things that I have really looked forward to happening in my lifetime: the uncovering of the identity of Deep Throat (that ended up being a little bit of a let down), the election of a black Pope (not yet, but I still have my fingers crossed), a woman in the White House (no comment), the inevitable aging of Brad Pitt (he's totally going Redford right before our eyes), and the release of Chinese Democracy, which I believe will prove to be the biggest musical train wreck, maybe ever.

Consider:

1. This is only a Guns n' Roses project if you believe that Axl Rose is Guns n' Roses. Rose has worked with, literally, scores of musicians on this project including several ex-members of GNR, Dave Navarro, Buckethead, Brian May, and everyone's favorite celebreality television whore, Sebastian Bach. There are various reports about who actually has ended up on the album, but with so many different musicians (and probably hundreds of mixes), I really question whether the album can attain any kind of coherence.

2. In every clip I have seen of any GNR or Axl Rose solo performance in the last 10 years, it has been incredibly clear that Rose has lost both vocal power and range. He's pushing 50, and just doesn't have the pipes he used to have.

3. This recording has been plagued with problems, not the least of which is that Rose is a "perfectionist" (see more on this in item 4), and has rerecorded and remixed every song on the album over and over and over again.

4. Axl Rose is mentally ill. I'm not sure what his DSM diagnosis is, but he is, by turns, reclusive, paranoid, megalomaniacal. And he is the "genius" behind Chinese Democracy. Good times.

5. Finally--and this is the most awesome thing about this "masterpiece"--CD is only going to be available at Best Buy. This is terrific. For all of Rose's blustering about what an artiste he is, and what an important work of art CD is, the fact that he has an exclusive deal with Best Buy shows him for the shameless self-promoting, money-grubbing hack that he is. No one can convince me that Best Buy is rock n roll.

Luckily, I won't have to buy myself a copy of the album, as I am sure that my little brother won't be able to hold himself back. After all, I just want to listen once. And then I want to read reviews. And then I want to laugh. And then. And then I'll be looking for something else to look forward to.

Not For J-Bro

because she is a hater of the Moonlighting. And this post is mostly about Moonlighting. Fair warning.

So last night, I went to the home of the Lady Rebecca, bottle of white wine and Moonlighting season 5 in hand. We have been trying to get through this final season since my birthday in February, but it is so awful that we've had a hard time. (The season begins with an episode devoted to Maddie's fetus--played by Bruce Willis--who she miscarries right after we find out that the baby is, indeed, Maddie and David's. Bruce Willis sucks his thump and bounces on a trampoline a lot in this episode. It is painful and upsetting.)

In order to finish, we had to get through the last 4 episodes. Well, really just 3, since one of them was a Burt/Agnes episode, and we just fast forwarded through it. Anyway, this was a poorly conceived idea on our parts. 1) We drank the whole bottle of wine, and we'd both been drinking earlier in the evening too. 2) We had no business intertwining the end of Moonlighting and my approaching departure from Austin. Frankly, both of those things are bleak enough as it is without piling one on top of the other.

The final episode is especially upsetting, because 10 minutes before the end, the show goes into the meta-television mode that it had done so well in the early seasons. It discusses the cancellation of the show, and the fans' disappointment with the way that the romance between David and Maddie devolved in the last 2 seasons. Then there is a clip montage, which serves only to remind us of how much we did, indeed, love watching these two fall in love, and how truly horrendous it was to watch the show unravel. In other words, the final episode pours salt into the psychic wounds left by the show, and doesn't provide ANY closure at all. Thanks for that, crappy Moonlighting writers.

Rebecca turned off the television and asked me if there were really ever any good series finales. We were hard pressed to think of one, save the end of Six Feet Under. (And that WAS so good that we both got a little teary-eyed just talking about Claire driving away and looking in her rear-view mirror. True story. When I finally saw the last episode I cried so hard that I made myself throw up.) Rebecca also liked the last episode of Sex and the City. I have no opinion about this, as I have never seen a full episode of that damn show. (Now that I think about it, I sort of liked the end of Deadwood too, although I was pissed that 1) it was ending at all and 2) that they killed off my most favorite character.)

***

In other news about my entertainment consumption--I have now watched the first 4 episodes of the first season of Hill Street Blues. Get ready for it, people, I have plenty to say about that. But I want to watch a little more first.

***

And I rented the Joy Division documentary. It's so good that I went out and immediately also got the biopic Control. You don't have to watch both. But you should watch one--preferably the documentary--unless you really like Samantha Morton. I don't dislike Samantha Morton, but I can't see her and not remember her in Minority Report and that just makes me think about the Dickmen (about whom I think I wrote about on the myspace blog, yes?) and that is just NO GOOD.

What I learned by watching the doc is that I love Peter Hook, and he looks like Alan Rickman. They could be brothers, actually. And although I would love to be a Joy Division fan, because it seems cool somehow, I frankly prefer the pop sensibility of New Order, and I probably always will.

Let's face it. I'm pretty mainstream.

Today Is Your Birthday

I have just finished making the annual birthday mix for Dr. Awesome, the awesome doctor. He turned 33 today (yesterday, technically) and I had to miss his soiree at the home of the Moody Blues Bros. due to packing. That is sad. But my guess is that they had a great time, even without me.

I'm not totally happy with this mix. In spite of the fact that Dr. A and Mikey J. were just making fun of me for including a Frank Black song on every mix I've ever made (and this is not strictly true--those of you who got a copy of the 2007 mix know that I didn't include any Frank Black), there is, in fact, a song from Show Me Your Tears on this mix. There are also three covers. That wasn't on purpose either. But one of them is particularly good--the Future Bible Heroes covering "Don't You Want Me." But I'm sure that I'm losing my touch and that is sad.

Anyway, happy birthday to my favorite partner in crime. I'm glad that we got to spend some time together before I have to return to Austin (yuck) and you get swallowed up by Long Island.

And yes, I did say packing. Tomorrow (today, really) I leave the sunny, breezy 80 degree perfection of the PDX summer for Austin, where the weather is less than desirable.

Once I'm there, I'll write a little about what comes next. And I'll finally post Rose Festival pictures. I know you want to see some Rose Festival pictures!

Rules to Sing By

Late-ish last night I got back from spending the weekend at the chalet (or as Dr. Awesome calls it, the "shallot") with Jane. Spending time with Jane always convinces me that I want to sing karaoke. This is because Jane has a deep political and philosophical fondness for karaoke since it is, according to her, the most democratic of all leisure activities. (Everyone gets a moment on the stage, other singers understand that it is important to be a good audience, it is less about talent and more about heart, so on and so on.)

The problem is that I'm not built right for karaoke. Sadly, I do care about sounding decent. I am not a "performer," so I don't have the option of pleasing a crowd by being purely entertaining. (Whatever that means. For instance, I can't jump on a table and belt out "Sweet Caroline" like Andy Z.) As a result, I'm really uptight about picking the right song, and then I get honestly nervous until I get called. So, I'm not really much fun.

This is completely exacerbated by the fact that (and try to hold in your surprise about this one, readers) I am sort of a control freak, so I can't get drunk as a way to enjoy the karaoke experience and calm the nerves. In fact, I tend to only engage in karaoke when completely sober.

Let's be honest, people, I'm just not that much fun.

But I do (and I say this very, very self-consciously) love to sing. So I can't NOT sing karaoke, if it is offered to me.

As a result, I have developed a set of strict rules for choosing karaoke songs for myself. Here, for the first time in print (well, not print, but you know what I mean) are:

Kristin's Rules for Karaoke Song Selection:

1. The song must be under 4 minutes. No one wants me up there for the whole of "Carry on Wayward Son" or the long version of "Total Eclipse of the Heart" or anything by Meat Loaf. It's too long. I don't need that much stage time.

2. The song must not have an intro, outro or bridge that lasts more than about 4 measures. I get nervous. So I don't want time to wonder what to do with myself (and particularly my hands) while I am up there. I want it to be all singing, all the time, if possible. You do too. No one wants to watch me wring my hands onstage during a guitar solo.

3. The song must be in my range. No struggling to make high or low notes. That's a bad scene.

4. The song must not have any potentially embarrassing lyrics. Hey, I know that my brother once won a karaoke contest by doing a ripping version of the Divinyls' "I Touch Myself", but I couldn't get through it in front of strangers. Or people I know. I just couldn't get through it. I am a lady, after all.

5. No power ballads. This one breaks my heart, because no one wants to bust out some "Angel" or "What About Love" or (the king of all power ballads) "Still Lovin' You" as I do. But power ballads usually break 3 or 4 out of the other criteria, and so I have had to ban them as a class. These are songs that, sadly, are relegated to my car.

6. The song must have lyrics that are already completely known to me. I'm going to watch the words the whole time that I'm singing, but it isn't because I don't already know them. It is because I don't want to make eye contact with anyone watching me. I don't want to screw up, and the best way not to screw up is to already know the words.

These are some songs that meet all the criteria above, and that I have thus approved for possible karaoke choices: "Manic Monday", "Johnny Angel", "Teenager in Love" (which becomes somewhat more inappropriate the older I get), "Love is all Around", and, occasionally, "Ramblin' Man". I have also recently come around to thinking that I should add the Violent Femmes song "American Music"--there are lots of fun uh-uh-ohs in that one . . .