January Playlist - and a quick update.

So, January's been a busy-busy month! My new job's been keeping me busy - quite busy, really. I've been grading papers for the last two hours, after a day of administering state tests...craziness. But this is not a sob story. I love it. I really do.

Here are some songs that I've been digging lately.

1. "When I Dream Of Michaelangelo," Counting Crows. One of Adam Duritz's greatest traits as a songwriter is his seemingly innate ability to be self-referential. "When I Dream Of Michaelangelo," from the upcoming album Saturday Nights and Sunday mornings, swipes a phrase - and a bit of arrangement - from the Crows' earlier "Angels Of The Silences." A quiet, meditative tune with strummed acoustic guitar, piano, and banjo. I like it a great deal.

2. "See The World," Gomez. I was an early adopter of Gomez - in the mid-1990s, when I was reviewing music for my school paper, Virgin Records sent me their first album, and I adored it. This is a more recent tune, catchy and jangly and all kinds of wonderful.

3. "Two Daughters And A Beautiful Wife," Drive-By Truckers. From the upcoming Brighter Than Creation's Dark, this is another catchy, jangly, banjo-driven tune with phenomenal harmonies. Huh. Leave it to me to, once I move back to the rap-music capital of the world, lean heavily on acoustic, quasi-country music.

4. "Happy," Martin Sexton. Martin Sexton always makes me think of my favorite time, the mid-winter at LeMoyne College in the mid-90s. Then, Sexton used to come by yearly and play a small venue there. The man has a remarkable voice. Check out this tune after a couple of beers and some conversation with good friends. It is worthwhile.

5. "Love Letter," Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. I'm in an optimistic mood about love again. It comes and goes, I suppose, so I'm going to savor this optimism while it's here. Cave's achingly beautiful voice says it all: "love letter, love letter, go get her, go get her." It doesn't look like much in print, but dig it in stereo.

In other news, I've started a lazier, link-heavy blog at http://dunford.tumblr.com - check that out.

Election Time Is Upon Us Once Again.

Tomorrow, the election season officially kicks off with the Iowa caucus. While we're not going to endorse voting for one candidate or another - that's really not our thing - we would like to remind you, dear readers, of one thing.



The people have the power to redeem the work of fools.

Get out there and vote, please.

Meandering Thoughts: 5 Song Lyrics That Shall Double As My New Years Resolutions

"If I could tell your future, I say 'love the world you find'
in the dark times and the hard questions
let some sunshine in your mind."
- The Flaming Lips, "Love The World You Find"

"Don't let hurricanes hold you back
Raging rivers or shark attacks
Find love, then give it all away."
- Clem Snide, "Find Love"

"The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time."
- James Taylor, "The Secret O'Life"

"Don't let me into this year with an empty heart."
- Josh Ritter, "Empty Hearts"

"I will try to understand
Everything has its plan
Either way, I'm gonna stay."
- Wilco, "Either Way"

In summation: I would like to enjoy the world (as it is, right now) more, to find enough love that I can reciprocate and then some, enjoy the passage of time, allow myself to keep an open heart right now, and not be consumed by the things that I cannot control. Not too shabby, song lyrics! (I would also like to lose some weight.)

Happy new year, dear readers!

Year In Retrospective Part One: My Favorite Songs of 2007

I've decided that I can be reasonably sure that I'm not going to hear many more new songs this calendar year; therefore, it's time for me to rank my 10 favorite songs for the calendar year. To be eligible for this list, the song had to have been released (officially) between January 1 and now of this year. And I will have had to have heard it between now and then. I can obviously not rank songs that I haven't heard. [Feel free to fire back in the comments section.]

1. Radiohead, "All I Need"
There's been a lot of hype about the latest album from Radiohead, and with good reason - the band's decision to forego traditional distribution routes and release the album onto the internet may have been the most revolutionary act in the history of the recording industry. Lost in that hype, however, was the fact that with this album, "In Rainbows," Radiohead has finally released the true followup to 1997's amazing "OK Computer" - an album that retains the highly electronic sound the band has chased for the bulk of this decade, while revisiting the songcraft that built the band's reputation. "All I Need" is the centerpiece of this album - and an amazing song. If you don't get goosebumps when the drums kick in, you're not human.

2. Wilco, "What Light"
Life affirming to the point of near-hippiedom, this track reminds each set of ears that it reaches that there's always reason to be optimistic. I can dig it.

3. Rivers Cuomo, "Longtime Sunshine"
I'm so glad this song has been officially released - it's an epic ballad of longing and sadness, and one of Weezer frontman Rivers Cuomo's finest moments. While we may never hear a formal, full-band version of this, this demo will more than suffice for the time being.

4. Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova, "Falling Slowly"
I'm a sucker for harmony, which this tune has in spades. It's from a movie called "Once," which I haven't seen yet, and a worthy candidate for the best original song Oscar in the upcoming awards.

5. Mark Ronson, "Valerie"
While a great portion of the music-writing world continues to fall at the feet of Amy Winehouse, let us take the time to praise her producer, former club-kid Ronson, whose singlehanded revival of soul-music production made Winehouse's album infinitely better. This track features Winehouse on a genius revisitation of a Zutons album track from a few years ago.

6. Kings Of Leon, "Knocked Up"
Clocking in at over 7 minutes, this blues ramble may actually be longer than an actual Kings of Leon show I caught in 2005. The song's consistent, rumbling rhythm and lead singer Caleb Followill's soulful lead vocal make this track a career highlight for the Kings as well as one of the best tunes of the year.

7. Stars, "Midnight Coward"
The dueling lead vocal between the male and female singers of Stars - never really harmonic, but instead more of a call-and-response vocal - make this song (about the doubts that come and go in the beginning stretches of an intimate relationship) completely noteworthy.

8. Eddie Vedder, "Hard Sun"
9. Loudon Wainwright III, "Daughter"
Both Vedder and Wainwright put together preeminent soundtracks this year; both of these tracks are from soundtracks (Vedder's earthy accompaniment to "Into The Wild," and Wainwright's straightforward, folky counterpoint to "Knocked Up"), and both are covers. Both are, to say the least, essential.

10. Josh Ritter, "Right Moves"
After last year's stunning "Girl In The War," Ritter's taken a slightly more lighthearted path with this track. When he starts spitting words at a remarkably rapid clip, watch out - it's got the effect of being simultaneously hilarious and kind of odd.

The 100 Greatest Rock Songs Of All Time

This November, wonderful area radio station WEXT-FM has decided to put together a massive list; and oh boy, do I love lists. Their "The 100 Greatest Rock Songs Of All Time" will air on January 1, 2008 and will be compiled exclusively online through listener suggestions.

Naturally, I feel compelled to throw my two cents in. The station is asking for 20 suggestions per listener. I can do that. To add to my challenge, I will choose no more than 2 songs from any one band or act (it would be very easy for me to topload this list with stuff from the Beatles, REM, Bruce Springsteen, and other bands I've loved for years and years), and I will try to keep it to one song per act wherever possible. I'm not going to pick exclusively "rock songs" either - I will pick songs by rock bands, but if their best work doesn't come in a Zeppelin-esque hail of rhythmic thunder, so be it. I'm all about the subtlety. Finally, I'm going to shed this "of all time" moniker - it adds far-unneccessary significance to a list. I'm going to pick my essential 20 rock songs - my favorite 20.

So, here goes:

1. "Born To Run," Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
2. "Like A Rolling Stone," Bob Dylan
3. "You Can't Always Get What You Want," The Rolling Stones
4. "Here Comes The Sun," The Beatles
5. "Fall On Me," R.E.M.
6. "Beautiful Day," U2
7. "Heroes," David Bowie
8. "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down," The Band
9. "Solsbury Hill," Peter Gabriel
10. "Into The Mystic," Van Morrison
11. "California Stars," Wilco
12. "I Hope That I Don't Fall In Love With You," Tom Waits
13. "Ooh La La," The Faces
14. "Let Down," Radiohead
15. "Radio Radio," Elvis Costello and the Attractions
16. "Landslide," Fleetwood Mac
17. "These Are Days," 10,000 Maniacs
18. "Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies
19. "Wishlist," Pearl Jam
20. "Unsatisfied," The Replacements.

I find that a lot of these placements are arbitrary. That being said, "Born To Run" is most assuredly number one and "Like A Rolling Stone" is most assuredly number two - both are the kind of song where you hear the first second (Max Weinberg's snare roll at the beginning of "Born To Run," and Bobby Gregg's single crack that kicks off "Like A Rolling Stone") and you know - you just do - that you're going for a ride and that hell yeah, you're in capable hands.

The Playlist: November 2007

It's been a busy month. Hell, it's been a busy week. Since Thursday of last week (5 days ago, for those who are counting), I've been to a family wake, a wedding, visited a newborn in the hospital, spent time with all of my brothers, and accepted a new job that will mean that I am moving back to New York City. Craziness. This has been the soundtrack to this quick and tumbling time.

Wake:
"Find The River," R.E.M.
Wakes are such awkward, strange times. Silent mourning, chairs set up in rows. Well, when I die, I want my wake to have music playing, and chairs arranged so that people can sit and talk to each other. "Find The River" should be played at my funeral, because I can think of no better thought to leave people with than that final verse: "Pick up here and chase the ride, the river empties to the tide, and all of this is coming your way." It's mournful, thoughtful, and yet optimistic.

Wedding:
"Here Comes Your Man," The Pixies
"LoveStoned/I Think That She Knows," Justin Timberlake
My friends Jed and Teresa got married at Battery Gardens, at the southern tip of Manhattan, on Saturday. It was a beautiful ceremony - elegant and poetic, in the best senses of the word. "Here Comes Your Man" was their first dance song; the way it unfolded could have been the last scene of an awesome romance movie, with all couples being invited onto the floor to dance with them. Sheer beauty. As a wildcard, though, I have to mention the aforementioned Timberlake track, which soundtracked a hilarious dance between the bride and one of her gay friends, which was frickin' awesome and hilarious.

Newborn:
"I Believe In Love," The Dixie Chicks
Yesterday, my friends Javen and Justine's newborn, Emma Claire, was born. I got to visit a few hours after her birth, and let me tell you, it was a wonderful feeling. While I'm not related to Emma really, there was definitely that sense of "oh my god, this is amazing" when I held her. What a wonderful feeling. I hope I'm lucky enough to experience it as a father someday.

Brothers:
"The Fairest of the Seasons," Nico
My brothers remind me somewhat of the Tenenbaums from the Wes Anderson movie "The Royal Tenenbaums." It's not that we're failed child prodigies, but rather, it's that the Tenenbaums all had rich, quirky childhoods like my brothers and I. I like to think that while we all have our rough spots, we also have amazing, different presents that we all bring to the table when we're together. It's what makes the end of "The Royal Tenenbaums" so special. This song comes from that moment of resolution.

Job:
"Leaving New York," R.E.M.
As thrilled as I am to have a great opportunity in front of me - and literally, it's the kind of opportunity that I've been waiting on for ages - there's a real and true sadness in what it means, a departure. "Leaving New York, never easy," Michael Stipe sings, "I saw the lights fading out." The lights are fading out on me upstate. "You might have succeeded in changing me, I might have been turned around," he continues. "It's easier to leave than to be left behind."

Well, this is the most personal thing I've written in awhile. It's been that kind of week.

Meandering Thoughts: Musical Moments

I've been thinking a lot about music lately. Over at Beerjanglin, I just wrote a piece that focuses on the combination of beer and music; meanwhile, my friend (and new blogger) Bobbo wrote a great piece that talked about a monumental concert event I attended last weekend at a farmstand outside Kingston, New York. (I'd talk more about the farmstand concert - which featured the legendary Levon Helm and was absolutely goosebump-inducing - but I instead invite you to read Bobbo's version of it instead - he did a great job of encapsulating a great musical moment).

Anyway, I wanted to talk about another musical moment that happened recently. Have you ever had a moment where you listened to a song and it absolutely captured the moment to the point where it felt like narration? I had one of those moments the other day.

I took myself a long weekend; I spent a whirlwind of a time in New York City, where I caught up with some old friends and had a lot of meetings that, without being too revealing, portend a great amount about my future (both immediate and distant). Anyway, at the end of this weekend, I ventured my sedan back towards Albany, and spent a couple of hours of my Tuesday evening on a dark, eerily quiet Taconic Parkway traveling north. I'd packed some CDs that I hadn't listened to in awhile for the trip; I decided to listen to Bruce Springsteen's "Tunnel Of Love" album for this leg of the journey.

As I neared the Austerlitz-Chatham exit (the final one on this stretch of road), the final track of this album came on - a haunting, melancholy ballad came on. Here, now, are some snippets of Springsteen's lyrics with explanation.

I'm driving a big lazy car rushin' up the highway in the dark
I got one hand steady on the wheel and one hand's tremblin' over my heart
It's pounding baby like it's gonna bust right on through
And it ain't gonna stop till I'm alone again with you

I, too, was driving a big lazy car and I was hurtling up a darkened highway. That alone made my eyes open wide. While I can't say that I was thinking about being alone with somebody per se, I was definitely thinking about a lot of things - my future, mostly... And yes, I drive with one hand steady on the wheel. I know we're not talking about mindblowing stuff here, but it certainly resonated.

Springsteen continued:

A friend of mine became a father last night
When we spoke in his voice I could hear the light
Of the skies and the rivers the timberwolf in the pines
And that great jukebox out on Route 39
They say he travels fastest who travels alone
But tonight I miss my girl mister tonight I miss my home

Here's where the connections got more personal. While a friend of mine didn't become a father last night, one of my closest friends in the world is on "any day now" status for fatherhood. Which is weird and different. I find myself wondering not whether fatherhood will change him, but rather, how much it will. It's weird and different and not really something I've taken the time to attend to in a friendship. And that part about missing my girl and missing my home - well, that part'll get me for awhile. I'm not in a relationship right now, and I don't miss my ex-girlfriend, but there's something about being in a relationship that I miss dreadfully, that made me feel somewhat closer to complete. I miss that all the time. And part and parcel with the weekend was that sense of home - so much doubt and change.

I could go on, but to be honest, my story would diverge even further from Springsteen's in the song. That being said - I love it when I can make a connection with a song, even if it's a painful, philosophical one.

Anyone had anything similar ever happen?

The Playlist: October 2007

This month, we’re looking at songs that are our personal soundtrack to the change of the seasons. The leaves are changing color, the air is getting crisper, the sun is setting earlier, and this is what we’re listening to…

1. “Sweetness and Tenderness,” The Rentals.
- When first we encountered the Rentals, they were an analog-synthesizer-laden side project of Weezer. In the years since the first album, Rentals frontman Matt Sharp has left his gig in Weezer, and apparently ditched the synthesizers. This song features piano, acoustic guitar, and violin prominently and may be the most achingly gorgeous thing I’ve heard in ages, due largely to Rachel Haden’s cooing second-lead vocal.

2. “Weird Fishes/Arpeggi,” Radiohead
- We’re hoping to have more about the new Radiohead album, “In Rainbows,” shortly. This track has become an instant highlight of the album for me, thanks largely to the swirling, ambient guitars. While Radiohead has forsaken typical verse-chorus-verse song structure, it’s nice to see that they can use their guitars and use them beautifully.

3. “Girls In Their Summer Clothes,” Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band
- Leave it to Bruce to release the best summer song I’ve heard in years at the very end of summer. Sigh. Classic E-Street song, complete with great piano, keyboards, and saxophone.

4. “Room At The Top,” Tom Petty
- Through the magic of DVD, I’ve been reintroducing myself to the television series “Undeclared.” Watching this has made me nostalgic for college, not because the show sugar-coats the experience of being away at school for the first time, but rather because it gets it so very right. The denouement of the first episode, where lead character Steven Karp (Jay Baruchel) confronts the fact that he’s absolutely terrified, while the other characters go through not-dissimilar moments, features this song. So spot-on and wonderful.

5. “Chelsea,” Counting Crows
- Another month, another Counting Crows song – this one, the “hidden” track from the disc featuring the band’s VH1 Storytellers performance on their “Across A Wire: Live In New York” set. It’s a sparse song about one of my favorite New York City neighborhoods, featuring mournful horns, piano, and Adam Duritz’s voice. Graceful and elegant, like the best parts of autumn.

Meandering Thoughts: On Counting Crows and "August And Everything After"

One of the pleasures of growing up in the Dunford household was the slow earning of privileges. Specifically, as my three brothers and I got progressively older, we were allowed to stay up increasingly late and watch different kinds of television.

I couldn’t tell you how old I was when I started watching “Saturday Night Live,” to be honest with you. I could tell you that the cast of the show included such comedy superstars as Dana Carvey, Mike Myers, and Chris Farley. I could also tell you that, before I watched a single frame of a live show, I was already well versed in the culture of “Saturday Night Live” – a couple of years before I’d seen the show, I read a copy of “Saturday Night: A Backstage History,” a now-out of print book that chronicled the show’s ups and downs in graphic, sensational history that my Uncle Chris gave to me to read during a visit to my grandparents’ house. Enamored with what I’d read (even though the book was a warts-and-all portrayal of the show and process that didn’t necessarily lend itself to being viewed in a good light), and spurred on by my father’s habit of taking movies out from the library, I began to watch older “greatest hits” highlights of “Saturday Night Live” – the best sketch comedy work of folks like John Belushi, Bill Murray, and Eddie Murphy.

However, when I started watching the show on a regular basis, I found the comedy end to be somewhat lacking. Like many viewers of the show, I was measuring the show with one of the harshest yardsticks possible – that of the aforementioned comedy gods. Let’s face it – when you’re trying to fill shoes as big as those left behind by the late, great Gilda Radner with the feet of someone as catastrophically atrocious as, say, Melanie Hutsell, then you’re already kind of dooming yourself to failure.

The reason I watched a lot of the shows that “Saturday Night Live” aired during my high school years was because of the music. In one season of the show (the 1993-94 season), the bands that performed included Nirvana, Cypress Hill, the then-newly-revitalized Aerosmith, Smashing Pumpkins, and Snoop Doggy Dogg. The music was generally phenomenal during my introductory years.

The band that I remember the most from this time-period on “Saturday Night Live” was, surprisingly, Counting Crows. The Counting Crows debuted on “Saturday Night Live” in January of 1994, the same week that my father had a heart attack. I remember staying up to watch the show with my older brother, who was home from college at the time, and watching the entire episode of this show. I’d not heard of Counting Crows before the previous week’s announcement of the musical guest, and I had no idea of what to expect until I heard the first notes of their first song.

The song that they played was “Round Here,” which was unlike anything else I was listening to at the time. My musical tastes were dominated by angry, grungy rock music (although my favorite album at the time was R.E.M.’s quiet, melancholy “Automatic For The People”). “Round Here” wasn’t particularly angsty or loud – it was quiet and melancholy without being particularly sweeping or orchestral. It was yearning music, sung by a weird-looking dude with dreadlocks and played by a band of folks who didn’t look like the grunge-muppet misfits that I liked to listen to. Perhaps it was the time and place, or perhaps it was the right sounds and message at the right time, but I was completely mesmerized.

I sought out a copy of Counting Crows’ debut album, “August and Everything After,” soon after, and I fell in love. 1994 wound up being a miserable year for me personally, but there was always comfort in that album for me – whether it was the ballads (“Anna Begins,” “Sullivan Street”) or the faster songs (the ubiquitous radio smash “Mr. Jones,” as well as “Rain King” and “A Murder Of One”). For better or worse, that album soundtracked a lot of terrible things for me that summer – hospital visits, funerals, and the car trips and waiting rooms in between.

Like just about every year in history, 1994 came to an end, just like every streak of luck (whether good or bad) comes to an end. I still find a lot of comfort in the “August and Everything After” album; I’ve never thought about why I do, really, but I think it has something to do with having made it through the difficult times and emerging. I mean, I cannot listen to a wide range of music (from Bob Dylan and Mercury Rev to Radiohead’s “Kid A” album) without thinking about being in Manhattan on September 11th , 2001), but I can still listen to “August and Everything After” without those feelings coming back.

Interestingly enough (and perhaps coincidentally), when I’m in periods of transition, I find myself gravitating back to the Counting Crows. For example, when I decided to move to upstate New York and pursue my Master’s degree, the song that meant a lot to me was “A Murder Of One.” The end of college had a lot to do with “Recovering The Satellites,” from their second album for me. Now I’m in another time of transition, and I find myself back, listening to “Sullivan Street” from that album. It’s comforting and wonderful.

The Playlist: September 2007

1. “Grapefruit Moon,” Tom Waits. I’ve been slowly exposed to the bulk of Tom Waits’s debut album, the more than thirty-year-old “Closing Time,” and you know what? I’d be hard-pressed not to consider it one of the greatest albums of all time, seriously. “Grapefruit Moon” is one of the overlooked tracks on this album, and is early-career Waits at his finest – it’s some straightforward crooning from the quirky-voiced balladeer. Give it a download. It’ll melt your heart, in the best way possible.

2. “Let My Love Open The Door (E-Cola Mix),” Pete Townshend. Normally, this solo single from Townshend functions as an upbeat pop classic; this remix, found on the soundtrack to the highly underrated John Cusack movie “Grosse Pointe Blank,” turns the uptempo gem into something else entirely. In this mix (apparently created by Townshend himself), the song turns into a sweeping, epic ballad with electronic textures. It fits, magnificently.

3. “Put It On Me,” Ben Harper And The Innocent Criminals. In this digital age, Harper and his band took a risk by recording an entire album live to analog recording. This track is one from that disc; it rattles and hums beautifully, an elegant bastard of gospel and rock and roll that would make Sly Stone proud.

4. “Camera,” R.E.M. This mournful tune from R.E.M.’s second album, released at the end of Ronald Reagan’s first term, may be one of the greatest ballads the band’s created. It’s the sound of a band that’s almost – but not quite – found their voice; Michael Stipe has yet to grow into the tenor voice that defined later hits, and rather than stride to the emotional heights of later tracks, the music takes a definitive turn inwardly. The resulting song doesn’t achieve the universal mournfulness of a track like “Everybody Hurts,” instead it becomes incredibly specific and note-perfect. Goosebump-inducing.

5. “Anna Begins,” Counting Crows. This month, the Counting Crows have re-released their landmark album “August and Everything After.” Years later, this track still stands out – emotional, powerful, and absolutely resonant. It’s easy to be annoyed with singer Adam Duritz and his pretenses, both in fashion and voice; however, tracks like this – exacting and delicate – may turn out to be among the most influential from the 1990s.

I'm Way Too Old For This: Thoughts As I Watch The 2007 MTV Video Music Awards

I don't watch MTV anymore. There's a really good reason for this; aside from "Human Giant," there's really nothing on the channel that strikes my fancy. [Full disclosure: I submitted material as a consulting writer for the upcoming season of "Human Giant."] The bulk of the programming ("The Hills" and its similarly themed ilk) does nothing for me.

However, every year I watch the Video Music Awards. Why do I do this? There's no good reason. The music that the channel celebrates does nothing for me; I'd probably rather see the "NPR's Morning Becomes Eclectic" Music Awards. I'm generally disgusted by the trashier side of pop culture, and, to be bluntly honest, I'd be pretty much okay if an atomic bomb was detonated on one of the floors of the Las Vegas hotel in which these awards are being held this evening.

Yet, I watch it. It's kind of like the donkey show referenced in "The 40 Year Old Virgin." - you think it's gonna be cool, and then you realize that it's a woman (expletive deleted) a horse. And you just feel sorry for the horse.

They're advertising this year's show as a one-time-only event - in previous years, the show's been rerun eternally, but MTV is swearing that this will be it. So, I'm watching. I will not, however, be linking to any pictures

8:50 - Preshow. John Norris is hosting the preshow. He seriously looks like a vampire, and not in the cool, "Interview with the Vampire" way. He looks like the undead with a tousled, bleach-blonde cut...or, minus the showy hairdo, Freddie Mercury circa "Barcelona." Look that one up, kids. According to Wikipedia, Norris has been working for MTV since 1986 and is almost 48 years old. Huh. He doesn't look a day over 65, though.

8:58 - Preshow. Some British dude is interviewing Linkin Park. Mike Shinoda is the worst rock star ever. He's gigglier than Dakota Fanning on nitrous oxide, all the time.

9:00 - Britney Spears is opening the show. She is wearing a barely-there sparkly bra and panties set. It doesn't look good. Kind of a muffin top thing going on there. Her new song is entitled "Gimme More." I'd settle for giving us Britney wearing a shirt, and putting some actual rehearsal time in. She looks vaguely stoned. Not good. See you on "The Surreal Life," Britney.

9:09 - Alicia Keys introduces us to the night's conceit; they've apparently taken over the entire casino, and are throwing different "parties" in which different performers are going to be performing all night. Kanye West's hosting one, Justin Timberlake's hosting another one, and the bassist from Fall Out Boy's got another one going on. The Fall Out Boy guy's microphone isn't working - it's always nice to see karma and common sense work together to protect the general public. (I know he's got a name, and I know it, but I refuse to mention it - he seems like the kind of douche who spends the bulk his days doing a "blog search" on Google for his name, and I don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing his name on this particularly-low trafficked corner of the internets.)

9:20 - Akon's performing "Smack That" with Mark Ronson and the band that made Amy Winehouse's album. It sounds infinitely better with this band, which makes me believe that Amy Winehouse is more or less a lucky crackhead with a half-decent voice and great production.

9:22 - Robin Thicke was just introduced as "R & B's new royalty." Do they know that his dad was the pop from "Growing Pains?" Finding out that Jason Seaver has fathered R & B royalty is incredibly discomforting to me. It's just...kinda weird.

9:31 - The Foo Fighters are performing. This is awesome. They're a real band, with actual rock-and-roll bonafides. They're joined by former guitarist Pat Smear, among others - this is a genuinely cool moment. I'm sure MTV will cut away from this prematurely. (It lasted precisely 90 seconds.) It's always great to see Pat Smear doing stuff. That guy's great.

9:34 - Beyonce just won an award. Surprisingly, it isn't for the advanced robotic technicians who keep her looking so lifelike. I'm looking forward to her turn as a lifelike female doll in the upcoming "Lars And The Real Girl," mostly because Ryan Gosling can make anyone look good.

9:42 - Chris Brown's performance begins with an homage to Charlie Chaplin. Or, as I'm going to call it, that time the vaguely effeminate teenager put on a tuxedo and fake Hitler mustache and then tap danced and lip-synched in an odd attempt to curry some kind of street credibility.

9:46 - After a desperate attempt to prove his sexual prowess by awkwardly touching Rihanna's back, Chris Brown is now recreating Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" dance. Someone should inform Brown (and Justin Timberlake, among others) that Jackson was an artist and not a genre of music.

9:55 - Bill Hader and Seth Rogen are on, in a recurring bit where they're talking about voting for the potential "losers" of the Viewer's Choice awards. This allows Rogen to throw out a jab at Wang Chung, which is lame, but we'll cut him some slack, as "Knocked Up" and "Superbad" were the best things going this summer.

9:59 - The Foo Fighters are back, with Cee-Lo this time. Cee-Lo is throttling the microphone stand and giving it his rock and roll best. They're ripping through Prince's dirty "Darlin' Nikki" and...yep, commercial break.

10:01 - Finding out that Alan Thicke somehow fathered someone referred to as "R & B Royalty" is like finding out that Pat Sajak's son is the new United States Poet Laureate. It's...just not right.

10:05 - In 2000, 50 Cent got shot 9 times. In 2007, in a desperate attempt to make it back to the top of the charts, he's relying on the questionable beatbox skills of a former Mouseketeer on a song. Just sayin'.

10:08 - Shia LeBoeuf just announced the title of the new Indiana Jones movie. It's "Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull." I'm guessing "Indiana Jones and the Magical Social Security Payout" wasn't, y'know, mysterious enough?

10:20 - Oh, joy. It's Linkin Park. Despite the angsty undertones of the music, Mike Shinoda is beaming like a first-grader on Christmas. I don't get the appeal at all.

Well, this is where I came in. It's the same celebrities, rotating in and out. If there are going to be any true "surprises," I don't forsee any actually happening, unless Britney somehow manages to sneak in an overdose during the live broadcast. [Which, since it's Vegas, the house has 3:1 odds on.] So, as two coked-up looking dudes from "Entourage" present Fall Out Boy with an award, I bid you, my reading audience of (maybe) tens a fond adieu.

The sad thing is, as terrible as this show has been - and believe me, it's been terrible - I will probably watch a bit of it next year.

PS. Kid Rock and Tommy Lee apparently got into a fistfight. The battle for irrelevance...gets literal! I'm not sure what's more likely: one to knock the other one into oblivion, or the Billboard charts and general public to do the job for them. For me to root for one over the other is like rooting for poop to be better than doo-doo. Wait, that's not a metaphor. Yeah, I need to stop this.

Beating The Drum For: Bruuuuuuuuuuuuuuce!

We’ll admit that we’ve always had a soft spot in our heart for Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band. In the mid-1980s, when we had a full head of hair (and were in elementary school), one of our prized possessions was a dubbed audiotape copy of their “Born In The USA” album. We’ve never really been much for the title track of that album, but some of the deeper cuts from that tape – “Darlington County,” “Workin’ On The Highway,” “Bobby Jean,” and “I’m On Fire” – can still be counted among our favorite songs to date.

Well, Bruce and the band (whose ranks currently include guitarists Stevie Van Zandt, Nils Lofgren, and Patti Scialfa, bassist Garry Tallent, keyboardists Danny Federici and Roy Bittan, violinist Soozie Tyrell, drummer Max Weinberg, and saxophonist Clarence Clemons) are about to come out with a new album. Called “Magic,” it’ll be available in early October.

The first single, “Radio Nowhere,” debuted this week (it’s available as a free download on I-Tunes until next Tuesday, as well as here), and while we might be biased, it’s one of the most interesting songs we’ve heard in awhile – a wall of aggressive guitars accompanied by an aggravated-sounding Springsteen growling. It’s a relatively brief track – just over 3 minutes – with a centerpiece saxophone solo from Clemons front and center. It’s extremely interesting and worth a listen.

For those of you in the Capital Region, Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band will be touring this fall – on November 15, they will be appearing at the Times Union Center in Albany. Tickets go on sale September 8. We’re hoping to be there, naturally.

Meandering Thoughts: Nickelback Is Terrible, And Here's Why

One of my favorite movies of the last twenty (or so) years is Richard Linklater’s 1993 ensemble opus “Dazed and Confused.” The movie (which you really should see if you haven’t already) is a meandering, multi-character excursion through life on the last day of school in a Texas town in 1976.

The movie is filled with memorable performances; among these is that of Sasha Jenson, who plays the affable Don Dawson. His is a supporting role, but it is quite memorable. As the football teammate and best friend of central character Randall “Pink” Floyd (Jason London), Jenson is a wonder to behold. As Dawson, he is a ball of lunatic energy and is so magnetic that it makes one wonder why his acting career never really took off beyond this movie.

There is a moment that Dawson has, though, that has made me understand a central truth about a major player in the entertainment industry. Let me explain the moment, though, before I go any further. In the scene that I’m thinking of, which comes early in the movie, Dawson is walking through the halls of the school building with Pink, discussing the anti-drug pledge (and subsequent moral dilemma) that sits at the center of the plot. As is habitual for the character, Dawson is animated and engaging and generally funny. Then, a weird thing happens – he is approached from the periphery by an unknown figure, and he rears back as though he’s going to hit this guy. The guy scampers away, never to be seen again, and Dawson just as quickly returns back to being animated, engaging, and hilarious. It’s a brief exchange – ten seconds at most – but it reminds viewers of an essential truth about people; one group’s gregarious soul might be another’s feared individual.

This has made me learn a little bit about Nickelback, naturally.

I’ll be very honest. I can’t stand Nickelback. Their music does nothing for me, and after several years in the limelight, I’ve come to understand that their music will do nothing for me - pretty much ever.

That said, there are people out there who love Nickelback. (I’m willing to wager that someone, somewhere will read the above paragraph and think to themselves, “not love Nickelback? That’s unpossible.” To that person, let me clarify something: I know that you like Nickelback. I don’t.) It’s okay to like Nickelback, I think. There’s an appeal to them; I suppose there’s an entire legion of people who enjoy having the soundtrack to their workday be indistinguishable from that of a strip club laden with C-section-scarred muffin-topped “nude models.” Good for them. It’s not for me.

I look at pictures of Nickelback (I won’t provide them here – use Google Image Search), and I see the clique of guys who used to threaten to beat me up in high school. They look like bullies. But, you know what? For that split-second in “Dazed and Confused,” viewers were given a glimpse of the otherwise-awesome Don Dawson as a bully. It makes looking at a band of nu-metal goons somewhat sympathetic; in thinking of Nickelback in these terms, it makes me understand that there’s an entire world that they represent which I’ll probably never have access to, in which these guys are magnetic, affable centres-of-attention.

So, perhaps Nickelback don’t – to paraphrase the great Brodie Bruce (of “Mallrats” fame) – “look like date rapists.” And maybe they are good guys, and probably aren’t the type to dose unsuspecting cheerleader-wannabes with Rohyphnol on their tour bus. I don’t know, and never will.

That doesn’t change the fact that they consistently churn out faceless, derivative metal music that makes goons like Creed look positively, radiantly charismatic in comparison. Nickelback’s music is a wholly unoriginal concoction of pre-watered down ingredients; it takes, as a starting point, Pearl Jam’s first two albums – which were, in and of themselves a combination of Doors, Led Zeppelin, and Black Sabbath – and strip away the charisma of Pearl Jam lead singer Eddie Vedder, replacing it with the aw-shucks blandness of Chad Kroeger. And yes, I’m saying that Nickelback sounds like Pearl Jam. And yes, I like Pearl Jam, but I don’t like Nickelback – and here’s why? Pearl Jam, even in their early, formative years, wore their influences on their sleeves – their music was influenced by acts ranging from the Beatles to the aforementioned Doors-Led Zeppelin-Black Sabbath trio, but they never overtly sounded like they were trying to be them. Instead, Pearl Jam sounded like they were a good band that took bits that they liked from those bands. Nickelback’s blandness can be attributed to the fact that they try to sound like the bands that they love. There’s a big difference, and credit is due to those who can see it.

Then, there are people who love Nickelback. People who tear up every time Chad Kroeger croaks “how the hell’d we wind up like this.” People who found their video for “If Everybody Cared” profound. People who vote incessantly for the band on VH1 countdown shows. These people exist. And you know what? That’s fine. I hope the dudes in 3 Doors Down are okay with you moving on, though.

The Playlist: August, 2007

Here's what we're listening to this week - songs that are providing our personal soundtrack as we skip merrily through our daily existence, as it were.

1. "This Time Tomorrow," The Kinks
- Growing up, my parents (my mom, especially), took great pains to expose us to the culture that influenced them. As a result, I grew up somewhat conversant in the music of the Beatles, Rolling Stones, Peter Paul & Mary, and Bob Dylan. One of the great pleasures of getting older (for me) has been discovering the music that existed on the periphery of my mom's tastes. The Kinks are one of those bands - every time I hear something that's new to my ears from them, I slap my head and think, "these guys are awesome." This song appears in the aforementioned trailer to "The Darjeeling Limited."

2. "I Wait For You," Yume Bitsu
- I'd never heard of this band before checking out this song, a seven-plus minute feedback-laden gem reminiscent of the best guitar work of My Bloody Valentine virtuoso Kevin Shields. Apparently, Yume Bitsu are from Portland. Their name means "dream beats" in Japanese, and this song is dreamy - in the sense of sleep-dreams, not in the sense of Bobby Sherman and Peter Tork. Very cinematic and sweeping. Check it out.

3. "Throw Your Arms Around Me," Luka Bloom
- Originally written by Australian songwriter Mark Seymour for his band Hunters and Collectors, and most notably covered by Pearl Jam, "Throw Your Arms Around Me" is that rarest of tunes - playful and genuine without being sappy. I'm partial to Luka Bloom's atmospheric take on the tune, which benefits from simple acoustic guitar work and the singer's rich, Irish brogue.

4. "The Underdog," Spoon
While I genuinely liked Spoon's last album (Kill The Moonlight), its bare-bones production made me wonder what the band would sound like with more fleshed-out production. This song is the answer - with booming drums, sighing background vocals, and a horn section, this is a veritable orchestra in comparison to the last album. Genuinely cool.

5. "Then She Appeared," XTC
Some music from the late 80s and early 90s sounds very dated. Not this. Those keening guitars at the beginning of the song let you know you are, as the Loving Spoonful once sang, "into something good." XTC lead singer Andy Partridge is notorious for his stagefright; fortunately, the care with which tracks like this were crafted let you know that the man took serious care in the studio. Lovely and amazing.

Forthcoming: "I'm Not There"

So, buzz is building for Todd Haynes's upcoming film "I'm Not There."

It's an interesting concept: the life of Bob Dylan with the lead role being played by several different actors - including the unconventional casting of female Cate Blanchett and African-American youth Marcus Carl Franklin, as well as the more conventional (read: male, Caucasian) Ben Whishaw, Heath Ledger, Richard Gere, and Christian Bale.

I'm not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I've come to understand how compelling a figure Bob Dylan was in the 1960s and early 1970s, through D.A. Pennebaker's contemporaneous documentary film "Don't Look Back" and then through Martin Scorcese's retrospective "No Direction Home," and I'm a pretty big fan of his music.

However, I'm not a big fan of mythmaking - and, if anything, having seven actors play the same, very real person (including Blanchett and Franklin) suggests the propagation of the myth of Dylan as someone who transcends the corporeal. Which I don't think is a good thing, necessary. We're very fortunate to have the music of Dylan, which in and of itself serves to transcend the singer (in the manner of songs, which in being performed by different singers, extend beyond the original composer/singer, as well as in the recordings, which - once committed to tape - become, in a way, immortal). Does Bob Dylan need to become a part of American mythology? Is he already? It's hard to tell.

Related:
The soundtrack tracklisting has been released. I don't know what order the tracks are in. It'd be kind of interesting if the songs are in alphabetic order. That'd be kind of rad, actually.

“All Along The Watchtower” :: Eddie Vedder & The Million Dollar Bashers
“As I Went Out One Morning” :: Mira Billotte
“Ballad Of A Thin Man” :: Stephen Malkmus & The Million Dollar Bashers
“Billy” :: Los Lobos
“Can You Please Crawl Out Your Window” :: The Hold Steady
“Can’t Leave Her Behind” :: Stephen Malkmus & Lee Ranaldo
“Cold Irons Bound” :: Tom Verlaine & The Million Dollar Bashers
“Dark Eyes” :: Iron & Wine & Calexico
“Fourth Time Around” :: Yo La Tengo
“Goin’ To Acapulco” :: Jim James & Calexico
“Highway 61 Revisited” :: Karen O & The Million Dollar Bashers
“I Wanna Be Your Lover” :: Yo La Tengo
“I’m Not There” :: Bob Dylan
“I’m Not There” :: Sonic Youth
“Just Like A Woman” :: Charlotte Gainsbourg & Calexico
“Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues” :: Ramblin’ Jack Elliot
“Knockin’ On Heaven’s Door” :: Antony & The Johnsons
“The Lonesome Death Of Hattie Carroll” :: Mason Jennings
“Maggie’s Farm” :: Stephen Malkmus & The Million Dollar Bashers
“Mama You’ve Been On My Mind” :: Jack Johnson
“The Man In The Long Black Coat” :: Mark Lanegan
“Moonshiner” :: Bob Forrest
“One More Cup Of Coffee” :: Roger McGuinn & Calexico
“Pressing On” :: John Doe
“Ring Them Bells” :: Sufjan Stevens
“Señor (Tales Of Yankee Power)” :: Willie Nelson & Calexico
“Simple Twist Of Fate” :: Jeff Tweedy
“Stuck Inside Of Mobile With Memphis Blues Again” :: Cat Power
“The Times They Are A Changin’” :: Mason Jennings
“Tombstone Blues” :: Richie Havens
“When The Ship Comes In” :: Marcus Carl Franklin
“Wicked Messenger” :: The Black Keys
“You Ain’t Goin ‘Nowhere” :: Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova

[The "Million Dollar Bashers" are -
Lee Ranaldo (Sonic Youth), guitars
Tony Garnier (longtime Dylan collaborator), bass
Tom Verlaine (Television), guitars
Nels Cline (Wilco), guitars
Smokey Hormel (Dylan, Beck), guitars
Steve Shelley (Sonic Youth), drums
John Medeski (Medeski, Martin, and Wood), keyboards]

Much respect to The Playlist for the soundtrack info.

In Defense Of: Stone Temple Pilots

I was thinking about it the other day – and, you know what? I think that the Stone Temple Pilots got a bum rap in the 1990s from music writers, myself included. They were treated like Salman Rushdie following the publication of "The Satanic Verses," and it's like a fatwa was issued by the Ayatollahs of the music industry - you know, "bring me the heads of Scott Weiland, Eric Kreutz, and the DeLeo brothers."

In fairness, it was easy to bash the Stone Temple Pilots. In an era where bands were rewarded for years slugging it away in the trenches, Stone Temple Pilots emerged from just about nowhere and seemed to piggyback on the successes of similar-sounding bands like Pearl Jam and Soundgarden. Righteous indignation, in all fairness, seemed like the way to go when protesting the band’s successes; I mean, are you going to root for the band that built its way up from playing in front of 5 people in a dusky club, or are you going to root for the band that seems like a carbon copy of that band without the dues-paying?

As a result, Stone Temple Pilots got massacred for their perceived sins. The uber-credible Pavement (on one of the catchiest songs, “Range Life,” from what is disputably their best album, “Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain”) riffed on them, saying “Stone Temple Pilots, they’re eligible bachelors, they’re foxy to me – are they foxy to you? I don’t understand what they mean, and I could really give a fuck.” The most crushing blow, though, was the Spin magazine review of the band’s second album. (I tried to find it online, but had no success.) From what I can recall – and bear with me, as we’re talking something I read 12 or 13 years ago, the album was reviewed by Rob Sheffield and he slammed the album with a mercilessness that reminded me of the speech uttered by the great comedy writer Jim Downey, playing the Academic Decathlon Judge in the movie “Billy Madison”:

“…what you've just said is one of the most insanely idiotic things I've ever heard. At no point in your rambling, incoherent response was there anything that could even be considered a rational thought. Everyone in this room is now dumber for having listened to it. I award you no points, and may God have mercy on your soul.”

It was pretty merciless.

I piled on, too – when I was in college, I wrote a weekly music column for a paper, and I regularly slammed Scott Weiland’s lyrics (which were terrible, admittedly – I mean, “her name is what it means” – it’s not good. I mean, it’s not Anthony Kiedis bad, but it’s not good). What can I say? They were easy to pick on.

However, time has been kind to the Stone Temple Pilots. By the time they released their third studio album, they seemed to shed their poseur label a bit, releasing themselves of grunge-rock pretension and even showing off a sense of humor (the video for “Big Bang Baby,” the first single from that album, was a hilarious dig at early-80s MTV staples). They never really gained that sense of once-necessary credibility, although Scott Weiland’s string of drug-related arrests over the course of the past two decades served to tragically provide them with an edge that hadn’t been there prior (at least publically). That being said, at least two of their songs have withstood the test of time and have made it to constant rotation on classic rock radio formats (“Plush” and “Interstate Love Song”), and for good reason – they’re crazily catchy songs that are quite good.

I think that the best thing that could have happened for the music of the Stone Temple Pilots was the end of the credibility-obsessed nineties. By the time the decade ended, pre-fabricated, insubstantial acts like Ricky Martin and the Backstreet Boys were dominating pop radio. This marginalized so-called modern rock bands in terms of airplay on top-40 radio and the video music channels. It slowed the flood of mediocre grunge-rock bands to the point where one would be lucky if they heard any guitars at all on these mainstream channels. It also unleashed bands that had even less credibility than Stone Temple Pilots – bands like Nickelback, Puddle of Mudd, and Limp Bizkit rose to prominence. Scott Weiland is a polarizing figure in music, but when placed next to folks like Chad Kroger and Fred Durst, he looks like the picture of credibility, durability, and quality.

Stone Temple Pilots’ music is better suited to a classic-rock format, anyway. When you place a song like “Interstate Love Song” in between bands like Styx and Journey, issues like credibility fade away. It becomes all about the music, really, which is (when you think about it logically) what music should be all about. If loving the songs are wrong, then I don’t want to ever be right. I take back what I said. My fatwa has been rescinded.