What The Young People Are Listening To

Every once in a while my Brother and I will make mixes for my Mom and Stepdad because they're curious as to "what the young people are listening to"--not in that cloying Boomer "I'm trying to stay young and current and cool" way, but in a "Sons #1 & #2 give us fun tunes; Huh, I wonder what's on this CD" way.

Hence a continuing series of mix CDs entitled, tongue firmly affixed in cheek, "What The Young People Are Listening To." And yes, I do make considerations/concessions for songs they will actually like (As funny/disturbing as the thought of my Mom bumping to the new Ghostface album in her Chevy Malibu hatchback sedan on her way to work is, I am declining to tempt fate). Although much of it isn't up-to-the-minute current music, I doubt the commandos at Pitchfork will be impailing me upon their eponymous weapons of massively destructive snark for this mix. At least I hope not.

Anyway, here's it is. Make one for your own Mommy & Stepdad. They just might like it.

"You Only Live Once" The Strokes
"Girl" Beck
"Stevie Nix" The Hold Steady
"Don't Take it Personal Dave" The Cops
"Going Through the Motions" Aimee Mann
"Goods (All in Your Head)" Mates of State
"For Today I am a Boy" Antony & The Johnsons
"Me & Mia" Ted Leo & The Pharmacists
"You Are The Generation That Bought More Shoes & You Get What You Deserve" Johnny Boy
"Young Pilgrims" The Shins
"Like Dylan in the Movies" Belle & Sebastian
"That Teenage Feeling" Neko Case
"I Summon You" Spoon
"The Engine Driver" The Decemberists
"The Greatest" Cat Power
"I Will Follow You Into the Dark" Death Cab For Cutie
"Chicago" Sufjan Stevens

Have a wonderful weekend, everybody.

Listen: Jeff Tweedy Acoustic Show

Jeff Tweedy & Nels Cline play a live acoustic show at the U of Chicago's Mandel Hall. You can listen to it at the link below:

http://wilcoworld.net/roadcase/index.php

Movie: George Washington

A quiet evening last night at Hacienda del Rey de Diversion with mi novia. Check out this undergraduatesque repast: hotdogs and Annie's Mac & Cheese enhanced by a pinch of green curry powder (What are we, 19?). Oh, and a few ice cold Primos, but that goes without saying.

I am wavering on Netflix at the moment. Not because I don't like the service, mind you, but because of Minneapolis/Hennepin County's superior library system. A cursory search of the Hennepin County Library online catalog currently yields 293 movies from the Criterion Collection alone (Your tax dollars at work. Talk about a persuasive argument for voting Democratic...). And, since the library catalogs are online, you can simply punch in your library card #, reserve materials, be informed via email when they arrive and pick them up. Cheapskate cinephiles should take note, if you haven't already.

http://www.hclib.org/
http://mplwebcat.mpls.lib.mn.us/

Anyway, I saw this little gem of a film last night, which I had been meaning to see for quite a while. Wow! David Gordon Green does his star turn as Orson Welles, making a movie like this at the hoary age of 25 and inspiring clammy feelings of inadquacy among us all.

I don't want to be a spoiler, so I won't write much about it, but it's poetic, funny, tender, incredibly eerie film that's also chock-full of Southern Gothic, which I love. A dense film that begs for mutiple viewings--something I'm looking forward to doing in the near future.

Review: Neko Case @ First Avenue 3/29

The fine print on ticket stated a 9:30 p.m. start time for the show, but when we arrived (around 9:30) the set sheet taped to a pillar in First Avenue informed us that opener Martha Wainwright's set actually started at, ahem, 9:15. (Since when does a rock show start early?) Ms. Wainwright is already part way through her wonderful, searing kiss-off tune, the song my friend once referred to as "that one 'You Bloody Dirty Motherfucker' song" in a case of failed recall. And (inevitably) that's the one song I really wanted to hear from her that night.

Cue: The piercing banshee wail of indignation (in basso profundo, of course).

Martha Wainwright has a voice that sounds as if her vocal chords have been slowly shaved by a serrated blade--or as if she's spent too much time as an adolescent mooning in front of her bedroom mirror in her underwear pretending that she's Marianne Faithful. Nevertheless, she is awfully affecting at times, and I really admire her when she's on, which she was last night. Martha's performance also reminded me of just how good she is with an acoustic guitar in her hands, and just how much she ruined her debut LP with a lot of ornate filligreed background crapola music (Leave that stuff to your brother next time out, okay sweetie?).

And, I have to say, that the spell of her allegedly raw, heart-pouring transparecy that she cast was endearingly broken when in between songs she indulged the crowd with narcotic maunderings that somehow passed for banter.

My brother turned to me, wolfishly smiling, and said, "Oh, she's not high at all."

Then she would go back to trying to break your heart.

An act--and a helluva good one at that.

The Main Event: Neko Case

Why? Why oh why oh why oh why oh why would you ever shell out $16 to stand and yammer at a show, ESPECIALLY when you have an angel singing on the stage? I wasn't aware that I was surrounded by the nihilist demimonde of Twin Cities hipsters who clearly had better things to do last night. And THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is the source of my outrage: that one would have the temerity to attend the show and then think that there could possibly be something more important than standing there, silently listening to a voice that could give you a glimpse of how much beauty exists in this world when you happen to be, uh, sitting in the same fucking room as her. That you would willingly ignore music like that. Because if you do deign to rip your dollar bills on the floor and disrupt the emotional lift and general good times of the soulful proletariat, then you simply don't like living. You're an idiot babe--it's a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

Go home. Really. Just go home. Fuckers.

Anyway, I finally fought away from the disruptive fringe and into a place in the crowd where the only noise you could really hear was coming from the stage. And at that moment, the very moment I got situated and could hear clearly, Neko started to sing "I Wish I Was The Moon," my favorite Neko song.

I wasn't late. In fact, I was right on time.

Dig If You Will, A Contest

http://www.3121countdown.com/rules.html

My Dad, Mr. Salt, has stopped the workers at the factory from shelling peanuts & insisted that they open whole cases of Prince CDs until I get my Purple Ticket for the private show at his house in L.A.

Daddy better find me that Purple Ticket. The factory floor is littered with cellophane!!! I want the world...I want the whole world...

When they get me my ticket, I'll let you come as my special guest. Scouts' honor.