Don't Forget Moreton Island

2011, for the listening

2012-01-19T11:16:00.000-06:00

If you care to peruse the musical collection I've been blabbering about, hit the links below to get get a Spotify playlist that has them all. Enjoy!

2011 On the shelf - the playlist I'll be listening to - those I haven't gotten to yet, detailed here
2011 Retreads - The unearthed classics I found in 2011, detailed here
2011 2nd tier - Probably the best runners up list ever assembled, detailed here
Top Ten 2011 - best o' the best, detailed here

All 2011 - All the lists above, combined! This one's a keeper.

Top Te(leve)n 20(11)

2011-12-31T16:55:00.000-06:00

It was 4:15AM when I heard the first noise. I had fallen asleep with the music on random, and it was still rolling through the All Music playlist when I was awoken from my couch slumber. While more bumps and slams were happening outside, I walked over to the speakers to turn down the sound and finally head into the bedroom where Rachel was already tucked tightly. I heard a slow click, and turned my head. A stranger had entered our apartment. All I saw in the hallway backlight was a dark figure, swaying precariously. I was not ready, I didn't know what fate was standing before me. As scared as I was, I recognized that this figure was as equally afraid, and perhaps even more confused than I was. I offered an out.
"You're in the wrong place man.Where do you need to go?"
Silence.
I approached, and he sensed my resistance to his plan. As I got close enough to begin my deliberate, businesslike intervention to guide him out my front door, he leaned into me. Taking his hands around the back of my neck, he brought my ear close, and whispered a phrase that I will never, ever forget:
"I'm gonna let you survive."
This is honestly what he said.
Somewhat contrary to this statement, a physical conflict ensued. His altered state, however, left him impaired to the level that it was not so long after that he was removed from the premises. After a quick slam of the door, a turn of the deadbolt, and a check on my wife, the incident was over.

The post-processing continues. Every couple months now, that phrase still works its way into my brainwaves. 2 weeks prior to the incident, I had turned 30, and was already in a reflective mood. While I am fully aware that it was a drunk guy from Minnetonka who had a few too many at the Bryant Lake Bowl that night, I also wonder how circumstances arranged themselves so that that message would be delivered to me that night. Whether it was the impaired gentleman who had found his way to the third floor, or some other force that was in play, I decided to take the message to heart. I was allowed to survive..that night, these 30 years, this full, wonderful year. I will not soon take for granted my days I am allowed.

With this rich plot, the music that carried me through the subsequent year did not disappoint in terms of a soundtrack. Perhaps the strongest, most innovative Top Ten I've ever compiled, these songs demand survival, exploration, and celebration in the face of an unknown future darkness.

Yep, this year is that good. 11.

Bon Iver - Bon Iver
Through very good friends, I was able to procure a vinyl copy of this album to give to my dad. I enjoy such an occasion so deeply because of the depth at which my father enjoys a new musical experience. He spent 45 minutes simply poring over the cover art of this album, finding small vignettes within the familiar, but surreal landscape, identifying buildings and images that I had never stopped to explore. Such it is with the music inside. Layer upon layer of discovery are there for the taking. This album is over 6 months old, and I find undiscovered wrinkles on every listen (which is a frequent occurence). Justin Vernon's rise to stardom has been remarkable for me, in that the more I hear about his past the more I realize how similar our backgrounds are. A (most likely awkward) high school football player/jazz band member. Upper Midwest modesty/honesty. A period of wandering and discovery. A celebrator of all that is lost from the past, and all that is learned from the present. A modern day classic.

Chad VanGaalen - Diaper Island
Thanks to Mr Gates, as he introduced me to this album during on of our weekly voyages up to Blaine this summer. Diaper Island is one of those albums where the first few times you listen to it, you feel like it's been a part of your collection for years. That could have a lot to do with the fact that its main influences are drawn from some of the Indie classics: Pavement, Modest Mouse, Dismemberment Plan. There is an effortlessness to this music that gives it levity and familiarity. I appreciate the satire smartly embedded in the lyrics (see Freedom For A Policeman & Shave My Pussy ) -ever a more rare occurrence in the "serious" indie artist. Concurrently, the romantic melancholy found in Heavy Stones & Sarah provide a weight that anchors this collection, slapping you pleasantly after a night out partying.

Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues
Yes, I know Robin Pecknold is ~5 years my younger, and he still has a bit to learn of the grand operation....yet I can't deny his wisdom at such his stage of life. The album states, through an impeccably warm, gorgeous late 60's folk haze:
1) where he is,
2) what he wants,
3) his struggles to get what he wants
4)the question whether the struggle to get it is worth it
5) the realization that he can't get much of what he wants
6) the peace with that realization
7) the realization that 1) = 2).
Ends the track Helplessness Blues with "Someday I'll be like the man on the screen"...and a whimpering melody, leaving it up to you to determine whether that's a virtuous wish, or an ominous foreboding......

Jay Z/Kanye West - Watch The Throne
The product of two celebrities that have been allowed to retain most of their true identity through their ascendance to success - a modern marvel, in two spectacular flavors. The jokester-entrepeneur, HOVA. The damaged but brilliant artist, Yeezy. What do you think is gonna happen??? Straight up, this is the best collection of backbeats ever assembled on one of either artists' respective albums....if either one of them had been ready to make their definitive lyrical solo manifesto in terms of lyrics, this could have been one of the classics. Instead, the finest moments come when both of their guards are down, on the pranksta/hyphy tracks of Niggas In Paris, Gotta Have It, and the retro-soul bonus track The Joy. Rachel loves the wistful song about their unborn children, of course.

Kurt Vile - Smoke Ring for My Halo
I thought for sure, the first time I heard this guy, that he was from the Midwest. Turns out he's from the suburbs of Philadelphia. Perhaps that midwest vibe came from the fact that I most enjoyed listening to this album on one of our seemingly endless trips through Iowa, Missouri, & Kansas; there is no companion on a dark highway like Kurt Vile. A steady, mid-tempo beat, ringing, Little-Feat/Heartbreakers-esque guitar riffs for a long highway trudge. But what sets Vile apart from his Philadelphia counterparts The War On Drugs is his hang-dog patter and "aw shucks" born loser lyrics. He attacks his fear, awkwardness, and loneliness straight-on and with an earnestness that is the peanut butter to the melody's smooth & graceful jelly. Ends the album "Raindrops might fall on my head sometimes, but I don't pay 'em any mind; then again I guess it ain't always that way." Sums it up well.

Panda Bear - Tomboy
My first 2011 love. Best absorbed initially by osmosis - compile some spreadsheets while listening to this on the first 2 or 3 listens. Once it soaks in, you sink further and further into the repetitions that litter the albums, and find them to be pretty deep and faceted, both in sonic and lyrical terms. "How do you show what counts, is counting (counting, its counting, its counting....)?" Panda Bear's struggles and declarations on the album are not yearning for quick resolution and happiness... his choruses' refrains praise stability, accountability, positive attitude, and honesty. A testament to the fears and struggles of young husbands & fathers. The closest thing to a church-song vinyl I'll own, in its simplicity of message and virtue. Just listen to Drone & Benfica and tell me how far away that is from the "Chant" CD of Gregorian Monks that somehow was popular in 1991. I lose my s**t almost everytime I listen to Afterburner - best 2011 backbeat hands down. Benfica's lyrics were the reason I decided to give CLX another go this year.

Real Estate - Days
Two of my good friends and I went to the tiny 400 Club this past fall to see these guys, and it was my favorite live experience all year (certainly had a lot to do with the company I was keeping). I feel like these guys are dismissed as "twee" and precious, when I hear a much greater freedom and depth in their honey-glazed grooves than some would let on. It's apparent after seeing these guys live that this freedom and power is derived from their charismatic bass player- this is the guy you invite to your college house party after the show. The hyper-talented guitarists glide upon a rock-solid and adventurous rhythm section, with polaroid-conjuring lyrics projecting frame after frame of mundane, but unburdened wandering in suburban America. Love that they were all in a Weezer cover band at one point.

Radiohead - The King Of Limbs
Probably the best "album" as a beginning-to-end work. And I expect nothing less from the best band in the world. How is it that this band continues to find new ways to blow me away? This round, I feel like they are truly emerging somewhat from the (exceptionally beautiful) electronic haze that engorged their albums from Kid A through Rainbows. The first half of the album battles the final demons of this paranoid, internal struggle. Beginning with the stunner "Codex" and on (in which the protagonist experiences both death and rebirth through an unclear but long-term leap of faith), the band treads nostalgic, but recently unfamiliar grounds. My favorite track hearkens to their Bends-era earnest, guitar based ballads, that tell stories about how the act of sharing our unconditional love can deny past fears and doubts their traditional spot at the table (Give Up the Ghost). When Radiohead goes for your heart, they use a scalpel and leave little behind.

The Weeknd - House of Balloons/Thursday
Abel Tesfaye has created a persona truly befitting of 2011- crafting it through Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook, Soundcloud, and YouTube - a Cliff's Notes of how to use prescient media to independently rise to the top of the heap. He's giving away all of his music for free, for God's sake. The reason it works, however, has nothing to do with his distribution technique. His voice is unique and talented, convincing this 30-year old to join him on his 21-year-old odyssey of fame/weed/prescription drugs/girls, and the destruction/reflection that follows. His silky smooth multiple-volume set that has recently been expanded to 3 separate mixtapes, with overtures & reprises, reminds me of the weird attraction I have with the Twilight movies. I don't quite understand the struggles of the main character, but am fascinated to see how the journey will affect them. By far the sexiest selection on the list.

tUnE-yArDs - w h o k i l l
Merrill Garbus has operated as an independent, underpaid, highly skilled artist, and I am fairly confident that she will not quickly shift from that aesthetic. And why would she? From her current position, she can move artistic mountains. Her perspective as a feminist, a musical lexicologist, a live-performance sonic architect -and a ukelelist!!! provides a clear, uncluttered platform to tell her story. The mixture is fresh, provocative, and unsettled. Her lyrics are of a personal journey awakening to the external barriers to further growth.... I have no idea what her next album is going to sound like. It could be Broadway Show tunes, it could be acoustic Joni Mitchell, and it could be Ghanan tribal. Any approach would have me captivated. Kudos to the heads up on this one from Ben Combs who first spotted her over a year ago at the Replay in Lawrence.

Wye Oak - Civilian
The winter has finally come to Minnesota, and this album is an appropriate herald. It is not just the dark/light contrast that weighs so heavily, but the weathered, seasoned voice of Jenn Wasner that sounds as if this battle of optimism and pessimism is no new fight. I saw this band live this year, and was blown away by the level of sound and spectrum they were able to create. This album satisfied so many cravings for me this year.... a slo-core Low-like sound, a measured, honey-like Pretenders-esque reverbed vocal track, and the desolate highway sound, reminiscent of Pedro The Lion. The album wins the award for utilizing space and silence in the most appropriate manner. Her admissions of limitations and fears as a grown woman seeking success and emotional fulfillment are plenty to warrant further exploration.

Top Ten 2011 Part III - The Art Of Almost (the 2nd tier)

2011-12-31T15:34:00.002-06:00

You may get sick of me saying this, but its worth a repeat: in most years, any of these albums would likely make the top ten. It was so crowded at the top, that this list was the most difficult to pare down. I even cheated a little and sort of considered all of the remix albums (a double album and EP) as one entry. But the year saw an explosion of innovative methods of sharing and distributing music - free downloads, iTunes exclusives, weekly streaming tracks.....if the artists are bending the rules, I'll follow their lead.

Don't forget - the links get you to the tunes!!!!

Gayngs - Affiliyated EP

Very surprised this outstanding accompanying piece to Gayngs' 2011 release Relayted wasn't more highly regarded. Relayted was a druggy, swanky affair, and all you remember about it was the moments of clarity of miles-deep hooks buried within the tracks. This EP, made by members of Doomtree & the Gayngs crew, takes all of those moments and gives them their just praise. Before you listen to Relayted again, download this free EP and remember why Gayngs was the coolest thing to come out of the TC in a long time.

El Guincho - Alegranza

My annual pick that comes a little late. Released in 2008, this is a call for all to remember the sounds & rhythm that tie together African Afropop, Latin American calypso, and European electronica. Make no mistake however, this is no watered down world music. Samples from American radio, insane circus sounds, and thumping club backbeats keep things interesting, and artisically personal & unique. Reminds me fondly of our honeymoon down to Old San Juan in Puerto Rico, watching improv in Spanish, an insanely innovative 20-year old salsa band led by the stoner in a SanFran Giants cap, and the old folks playing dominoes in the park, dancing in their seats when they hear Black Eyed Peas' Dirty Bit.


Youth Lagoon - The Year of Hibernation

I feel like I'm starting to understand what "Northern" music is. Amongst the dark, amongst the cold, amongst the isolation, rises a glowing core of internal warmth, with a steady, and unwavering beat that marks the progress through snowy nights. This dude's from Boise, Idaho. He understands, like Justin Vernon understands, like Sigur Ros understands. He is young, and he does not have everything figured out yet. And he writes about that challenge. To some, that sounds like emo. To me, that sounds like the good fight.

Washed Out - Within and Without

Pitch perfect music for 2011. I feel like if folks wanted to sum up Indie music in 2011 10 years from now, they would pick this. Draws upon the memories of the late-80's synthesized soft rock, but distills it to a smooth liqueure of all of the best, most epic moments, enriched with sterile, European drum-machine beats. I have never investigated the lyrics of this album, and never will. This album presents its style AS the substance, and in 2011, it's an important lesson to do more with less.

Wilco - The Whole Love

I was cursed with a low-quality audio copy of this album, and unfortunately affected my exposure to this album. Much like their compatriot veterans Bright Eyes on this list, this band simply knows how to truly craft an album. The beginning and end of this album is impeccable, and some of the strongest stuff the band has put out since my college days. I look forward to my hi-fi experience with one of my favorite bands of all time. They proved to me that they are not fading quietly yet all the way into dad-rock territory.

Radiohead - TKOL Remix 1234567

Much like Affiliyated, this double album was a complementary piece to an original, that surprised me in its listenability and success in deftly re-contextualizing The King of Limbs. The lineup of remixers reads like a hall of fame of indie electronica, but some of my favorite tracks are from folks I've never heard of (not really saying much there though). Codex [Illum Sphere RMX] and Lotus Flower [Jacques Green RmX] are standouts. Wish more bands would be more "open source" with their sounds. PS - More on Radiohead to come....

The War on Drugs - Slave Ambient

Hutch is not gonna be happy this didn't make the Top Ten. For good reason. This Philly collective, along with Kurt Vile, came out of nowhere for me this year. 'Drugs is Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers if they mixed in a little Xanex into their typical drug regimen. Healthy doses of ringing, swelling-heart guitar riffs, down-to-earth poet-sings, and a glorious reverence to heavenly, other-worldly noise palettes riding a driving Chevy Truck beat. Roll the windows down folks.

Bright Eyes - The People's Key

The rambling, psychotic, intimidating rant that weaves through the songs of The People's Key initially elicits some nervous chuckles, as I envision Conor Oberst recording the conversation on a whim and making a drunken promise to the ranter that he'd be on his next album. An interesting phenomenon happens upon repeated listens, however. The clarity of those diatribes begins to emerge, and you realize that the man's philosophy isn't all that different from those we all experience, albeit a bit more blunt, intense, and honest. I have learned that Bright Eyes' best lessons are learned slowly, and are seldom forgotten. One for you, and one for me.

Shabazz Palaces - Black Up

First off, to truly understand where this crew is coming from, this video is mandatory. (probably a little NSFW, but its ART). Not since WHY? has left-field hip-hop really grabbed me like this. A breath of fresh air from the Kanyes and JayZs of the hip-hop world. Best listened to in the afternoon, when you're feeling just a tad...off. Some of the album's best lyrics deal with the challenging space between the freedom to speak to a truth, and the will to act on behalf of it. They throw in a spiritual nod to the stars and our relative insignificance - it's a corner of hip-hop I'm excited to explore further.

Blitzen Trapper - American Goldwing

This one made very few Best Of lists I saw this year, and it really shocked me. I guess the Indie world has moved on from the folk/country vibe; so glad Blitzen Trapper didn't. This album has the band wearing a well-worn leather jacket that has the right balance of style and age-earned grit. Eric Earley never wastes a syllable in his patter - sung like he's still got stories that need a clear, measured telling. "And a brand new coat of paint/on this brokedown palace couldn't compensate/for the things I never really said to make you stay." Americana songwriting at its finest.

Yuck - Yuck

It's as if these Brits broke into my 1996 bedroom, and of all of the albums to steal to bring to the future, they selected the free "Van's Off The Wall" I got from my buddy who worked at Payless Shoes, that introduced me to those epic jams from Self, The Lemonheads, Juliana Hatfield & Matthew Sweet. Kids, it is never too early to be nostalgic. I especially appreciate the wide spectrum of this homage...from the spaced out, bass-heavy ballads to the full fuzz of Holed Out..."everybody says they can't get through to you...everybody says you're just a point of view"....I can hear my voice cracking back through puberty as I sing along. Long live the teenager.

Top Ten 2011 Part II: An embarrassment of riches (yet to be digested)

2011-12-29T10:52:00.003-06:00

Like I said yesterday, there were more great albums in 2011 than the last 3 years put together. Subsequently, there was just not enough time to really listen to everything I wanted to. Here's a list of those albums that I probably listened to all the way through once or twice, but wasn't able to truly dig into. Also, now you know why none of these made the Top Ten. I'd be interested to hear what folks think of these albums, and which ones I need to get to first in the next few weeks....

Once again, the links are the albums on Spotify or free downloads. Get bizzay.

Drake - Take Care This has all the makings of being epic.
Feist - Metals Not all that impressed with the first single, but that's never where her strength was.
Girls - Father, Son, Holy Ghost - Hated this on first listen, slowly coming around, following the same arc I went through with Arcade Fire. Very ambitious album.
Stephen Malkmus - Mirror Traffic On first listen, had great Malkmus moments. Is the whole album solid though?
St Vincent - Strange Mercy Haven't listened at all. Excited to open this present.
Black Keys - El Camino Will be VERY hard to top Brothers. But that promo with Bob Odenkirk is sweet.
Woods - Sun and Shade From music exchange with Benny Combs. Don't know much about this.
Thundercat - The Golden Age Of The Apocalypse The shot across the bow from avant garde Jazz - I'm sayin it now, this is the next THING. Flying Lotus-approved.
A$AP Rocky - LiveLoveA$AP First listen very promising. Get Lit is so great!!!
Low - C'mon Alan Sparhawk is one of my heroes. My first foray into Low's catalog.
Bill Callahan - Apocalypse - All of my favorite artists have this one on their top ten lists. Appreciate how jarring his style is.

Top Ten 2011 - Part I: Blast'o'past

2011-12-28T14:41:00.003-06:00

To whet your appetites leading up to the big reveal of this year's top ten, I thought I'd put together a few other posts that showed what else I've been listening to all year. This year's stable of albums is probably one of the strongest in the past 5 years, and 10 albums certainly don't do the sonic year justice.

One of the most important parts of each year for me is to dig deep in the crates of friends, relatives and used record stores to find a few albums from the past that continue to shape the sounds of new artists. Here are a few "New To Me" albums that still hold up and are new critical staples in the collection.

For those of you on the Spotify bandwagon (quite the spiffy bandwagon, eh?) the links get you the album link. Have Fun!

Paul McCartney & Wings - Band On The Run

The Current played a Sunday Night "Current Presents" story on the making of, and context surrounding, this album. Recorded in a wooden shack in Lagos! Paul almost died twice! Fela Kuti was pissed at them and thought they would steal Afrobeat! Nevertheless, the album had the band at one of Paul's finest creative points - innovative, but relaxed and groove-based. Let Me Roll It is an understated standout.
Where I heard this sound this year: Blitzen Trapper - American Goldwing; The Belle Brigade

The Beach Boys - The SMiLE Sessions The story behind this album deserves its own documentary. Multiple pressures surrounding Brian Wilson - record label's expectations to follow up Pet Sounds (includes a great, keeping up with the Beatles, Wilson's depression & subsequent mental breakdown, bad drugs, and the rest of the Boys' dislike of Van Dyke Parks' lyrics - explained the 40+ year delay in releasing this. When Wilson released SMiLE a few years ago, the template for how it SHOULD have sounded was finally determined. My only complaint at the time was that I missed the younger Beach Boys voices in that mix. This album satisfies those complaints in an overwhelming way. Beautiful, weird, and complex. Where I heard this sound this year: Panda Bear - Tomboy; Girls - Father Son, Holy Ghost; Real Estate - Days

The Doors - Weird Scenes From The Gold Mine

I found this vinyl beauty tucked away in my mother-in-law's cabinet, with an awesome forward from a 1960s Rolling Stone writer, stating that "after I listened to this album, dinner with my parents would never be the same again." How great is that?? Lost amongst the whole "paradigm-shattering" aspect of the Doors is the fact that they had a unique oddball-funkiness to their songs, and were steeped in both jazz and classical fundamentals. I cite Modest Mouse and Bill Callahan as modern contemporaries here based on their seeming ability to combine widely disparate styles and tones together to make something that truly does work (a lot like southeast asian cooking!).

Where I heard this sound this year: Modest Mouse - The Lonsome Crowded West; Bill Callahan - Apocalypse (I'm guessing)

John Coltrane - A Love Supreme

Stayed up late one night and watched Ken Burns' documentary on Jazz. While all of the key figures' stories were intriguing, Coltrane's I found to be the most important. He saw his music, always, as an offering and a spiritual communication to a higher power. This album exemplifies that statement more clearly than any album I heard this year. My old buddy Jeff Guntren played this for me about 15 years ago, and didn't understand what all the fuss was about. Guess I just wasn't ready. Makes a great case for getting out all your old albums and relistening for all of the things you missed the first time.

Where I heard this sound this year: Shabazz Palaces - Black Up; tUnE-YaRdS - w h o k i l l; Thundercat - The Golden Age Of Apocalypse

Simon & Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water

The thing I think I appreciate most about Paul Simon's music is his economy of melody. There are no wasted notes or words, yet they convey so much in each 3-minute opus. If the recent "chillwave" style went to a party, it would be the attractive dude/gal with too much cologne/perfume and limited conversational skills (note: I love some of those chillwave albums, and for some parties these are the most fun people to dance with). S & G are the partygoers with beat-up coats & sweaters, fogged-up glasses, and the ones having long conversations with old friends late into the night. BOTW is a breath of fresh air of honesty, personality, and a wake of beauty behind it.

Where I heard this sound this year: Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues; Kurt Vile - Smoke Ring For My Halo

Joni Mitchell - Blue

My first used vinyl purchase for my new turntable. She so effortlessly conveys grace under pressure, sadness amidst joy, and laughter during panic....always makes me think of my mom.

Where I heard this sound this year: Wye Oak - Civilian; Beyonce - 4; Bon Iver - Bon Iver

Top Ten Albums 2010: Do You Still Believe In The Album?

2011-01-02T12:56:00.023-06:00

Here we go. Looking through this list, it appears that most picks (with a few notable exceptions - Mr Gillis?) involve bands that still truly believe in painting their picture with a true color scheme across the whole album, as opposed to the collage approach. Now, I've probably listened to a majority of these tracks on Shuffle mode, and they still hold up as single tracks on their own. That being said: this may be a dying breed, and may be an indication of my age.... I still have some favoritism for artists who have the ambition, focus and energy to weave their 45 minute story into a narrative. Below are the 10 reasons I still believe in the album concept.

Personally, these songs will always bring up memories of wrapping up grad school, preparing for -and succeeding in - marrying a wonderful and beautiful girl, and starting a brand new chapter that feels strong, peaceful, and just plain right.

In no particular order:

2010 Top Ten Albums
Mumford & Sons - Sigh No More
"Love, it will not betray you, dismay or enslave you,
It will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be
There is a design, an alignment, a cry
Of my heart to see
The beauty of love as it was made to be."

You have my attention.

Girl Talk - All Day
His longest opus yet, Greg Gillis keeps punchin the right keys on the laptop. His formula has not run dry yet, and he stretches it to the limit on this album. While you've just gotten done enjoying the great selections, seamless syncopation, and smooth transitions, you start to hear some themes emerging through the lyrics. He begins blasting you with a trio of Jay Z (hit me!) Black Sabbath (War Machines) and Ludacris (Move Bitch!), and ends with a UGK verse lecturing "one day you're here the next day you're gone" with John Lennon's "Imagine" finishing up as a way out of the violent posturing.... do not know how I'll be able to wait for this show in May... and if you haven't yet, take an hour to check this site... http://mashupbreakdown.com/ - reveals this album's genius in a visual stepthrough.

Surfer Blood - Astro Coast
These guys make me feel like a kid again. Remember all those great Spike Jonze Dinosaur Jr and Weezer videos on MTV in the mid-nineties? Something about the mixture of pop sweetness, not-quite kosher pop lyrics, simple and deadly hooks that you can't shake, and a live show full of nerdy swagger and fist pumping energy. I almost killed the lead singer at their show at the Varsity - photo evidence here: http://tinyurl.com/2em37al -photos 22 and 23. I'm the lightblue sweatered hand right under his ass in 22, and check out the red-shirted guy's reaction to the guitarist's descent onto the edge of the stage in 23. Thought I had broken his hip, but this youngster popped right on up to finish the show. Rock n Roll kids.

Black Keys - Brothers
A latecomer to my favorites list. Have to admit I was guarded after a louder-than-usual marketing campaign, full with videos of hot chicks and a few too many commercial spots. But damned if the marketing wasn't well deserved. Every single track on this album is fully realized indie-blues swagger, and probably the best example in this list of the album concept fully played out. One of the few examples of bands that had relied on a stripped-down approach to begin their careers that then appropriately expanded their sound to reach a grander result (see Iron and Wine, Belle & Sebastian). Also, best antidote for those soul crushing days in the office: put your feet up, grab a bottle of hoppy local brew, and commence subtle head bob.

Best Coast - Crazy For You
Along with Surfer Blood, Best Coast heralded a return to the sun-baked ringing guitars of my youth, this sound topped with vocals reminiscent of those 90's female chamber-echo enhanced sounds - The Breeders, that dog., Belly. That sonic nostalgia initially gets you past the overtly simplistic lyrics, until you realize that the lyrics rank far down the list for Bethany Consantino, merely as another broad sonic brush in the sunny beach painting she's creating. And boy, do those lyrics get stuck in your head like sticky caramel. Nervous but excited for her next go-round.... does she stick to her beach-stoner guns, or find some new canvas - one with (gasp) no reverb???

Aziz Ansari - Intimate Moments for a Sensual Evening
Aziz Ansari may be the coolest person in America right now. Rarely do you get a comedian that is so on point with the edge of popular culture that he is already able to skewer things that pretty much didn't exist 5 years ago. While Time magazine is making the Facebook dude Man of the Year, Ansari is already finding the bizarre side effects of these "great new things" and their weird effect on us (vampire requests, whatever the fuck that is). Also doesn't hurt that he gets the awesome/disastrous dichotomy of things like Kanye West & R Kelly, smartphones, and high-school student message boards. Also his delivery is that precarious balance between techy dork and hip hop gangsta that is hard to take seriously unless that messenger is well-schooled in both categories. Also, RAAAAAAAAAAANDY.

Panda Bear - Person Pitch
My annual "yes I know this is not a 2010 album but I can't let it go by" album. My Animal Collective appetite ever grows. Panda Bear, aka Noah Lennox, is the Beach Boys adoring member of AC, and I always had favored his vocals in past AC albums. I credit Mr John Hutchins' enthusiasm and extreme eyebrow raising when describing this album for getting me to pay attention. A dense echo chamber of worldly drum loops, ambient sound mixes and ringing choruses that have a spiritual, unembarrassed reverence for positive attitudes, family, confronting problems head on, and cherishing moments of unique creative identity. If required to submit a two word review of this album: Yes, exactly.

Kanye West - My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy
It may be time to start thinking of Kanye in that "misundertood genius" category, years after he told us that we should. The space between his public behavior and musical vision and ambition continue their trajectory in opposite directions - so much so that even the folks he made this album with describe him in a distant, admiring way, the way you might describe a particularly provocative animal in a zoo - check this article which should be a necessary companion to the album.
http://tinyurl.com/285l87a
Oh, the music? Beats that dig in to the heart, lyrics that soar from perverted clownin, to rage, to swaggering self-deprecation (yeah, I know that sounds contradictory). Sure to be my favorite heckle this Ultimate season:"Too many Urkels on ya team, that's why ya Winslow".

Arcade Fire - The Suburbs
So glad that this album wasn't really actually about the suburbs. The planner in me may have been mildly disappointed, but the musician in me gave a sigh of relief. The only thing that Arcade Fire criticizes is a lack of passion, wherever it occurs. Folded-arm hipster kids not knowing what they're rebelling against. Professional adults not knowing what they patiently wait in line for. A system that promotes more light, but not for illuminating anything in particular. Fortunately, these art school kids employ praise in equal measure to their criticism. Writing letters and waiting for the unparalleled joy of a return. Kissing a boy in a dark urban playground. The ability to start again, alone, in the darkest of times. The music never sleeps, always ready to move in unexpected directions, defying precedent and keeping Arcade Fire derivative of nothing other than love, passion, and possibility.

LCD Soundsystem - This Is Happening
Alongside Aziz Ansari , James Murphy might be the other coolest guy in the world. He makes every song sound like a mutated analog parody of the digital style it emulates (often dance punk and electronica, but expands into new wave as well), but isn't satisfied with just that trick. He layers lyrics that are too cryptic to be taken literally, but vibrant enough to create a Hipstamatic-treated polaroid in your head of scenes from some really cool urban scene that would evaporate if described more fully. I am in agreement with Mr Combs that the song Drunk Girls is really annoying save for the last minute of the song; But Dance Yrself Clean is far and away the best song of 2010.

Top Ten Albums 2010: At the doorstep

2010-12-31T16:50:00.002-06:00

A great year for the albums, was 2010. So many great tunes, had to include those just at the doorstep of greatness. Yes, I know Big Boi is on this list, not the next. It hurts you like it hurts me.

2010 Top Ten Albums: Runners Up

Retribution Gospel Choir -2
Concert at the basilica - if you were there, you know.

Vampire Weekend - Contra
Not being exactly what I want them to be, and showing me why that's a good thing.

Blitzen Trapper - Destroyer of the Void

Local Natives - Gorilla Manor

Band Of Horses - Infinite Arms

Here We Go Magic - Here We Go Magic

Big Boi - Sir Lucious Left Foot....The Son of Chico Dusty

Beach House - Teen Dream

The Tallest Man on Earth - The Wild Hunt

Caroline Smith & The Good Night Sleeps - The Backyard Tent Set

Catchin Up.... Top Ten Albums of 2009

2010-12-27T11:12:00.010-06:00

2010 Top Ten Albums

This list was compiled last year, but academia prevented its completion. Time for some real deal catch up.

Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavillion/Fall Be Kind EP
Grabbing 1.5 of my picks here.... AC is the vanguard currently - if you don't believe me, listen to "My Girls" and "What Would I Want? Sky" 20 times in a row and try to disprove it. Am I the only guy that does that?

Bon Iver - Blood Bank
...to round out that other .5. Only four songs, but there is enough in here to solidify Justin Vernon as much more than a pretty falsetto voice.

Brother Ali - The Truth Is Here EP
Pretty much a full on LP (so a full space on the list), BA's rhymes bust with positive, snarky swagger, all with funky backbeats for crunchin.

Dirty Projectors - Bitte Orca
Its complexity with every instrument defies description, yet doesn't get so caught up in its fugues that it doesn't find time to groove. Walked into our wedding reception to Stillness Is The Move.

Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest
Indie kids who got pretty deep into their dads' smooth rock collection and found all the best parts; while a largely low key album, best listened to on full vloume, as the full sonic spectrum offers surprises with each new listen.

The Lonely Island - Incredibad
Comedic music albums that deserve multiple listenings are really, really hard to do. But when the quality of music gets to the level that makes Julian Casablancas, T-Pain and Norah Jones want to full on clown WITH the actual designated clowns... it makes you pay attention.

Megafaun - Gather, Form and Fly
Again, kids who found their dad's Graham Parsons albums and decided they'd sound better if Radiohead got invloved. A stylistic smorgasboard (that somehow manages to work), I'm excited to hear this band find their consistent voice for their next album.

Neko Case - Middle Cyclone
Just seems too easy for this lady. The first time you hear this album, it sounds like you've already heard it 20 times. A sound of someone who has figured out the entire artistic package. A knockout live.

Rural Alberta Advantage - Hometowns
Folks in Minnesota love these guys, and for good reason: they speak of, and sound like, all of us who grew up in your less-than-urban areas and are starting to find their place in a bigger world. Appreciate the lo-fi, percussion-centered production that hints at a Neutral Milk Hotel vibe.

Q-Tip - The Renaissance
Two hip-hop albums vied for the majority of my attention this year - I thought for sure that the Mos Def album would be the one making this list. But Tip's tried and true method of laid back old school spittin and super-tight jazz-laced backbeats is the one that I always go back to.

Top Ten Albums 2008

2009-01-08T14:57:00.017-06:00

2009 Top Ten Albums
Hey all you children of the corn - it's that time of year again, where I actually make use of the ol' bloggeroo, for what is always my favorite post. These are the albums that were the soundtrack for my goings on in the past year, which was just about as rich as you can get. Full time engineering, a new Ultimate Club team, a very special new Minnesota resident, quitting my job, starting the financially conspicuous endeavor of Grad School - I certainly could not have gotten through it all without the laptop lulling me to sleep or the headphones keeping me up on the light rail ride home at 1AM with these new tunes ringing in my head taking the edge off.

In general, I found a relatiely fewer number of EPICALLY GREAT albums this year, but I thought there was a few really amazing new songs and artists that give me hope for the future of tuneage.

Blitzen Trapper - Furr
As I said last year, I felt these guys, along with Wolf Parade, were on the cusp of their defining moment. I was right about BT, and maybe a little off with WP. These Seattlites first emerged with their schizophrenic Wild Mountain Nation that, at times, refused to depart from intelligent dissonant noise that frustratingly interrupted some great alt-country moments. On Furr, they ain't scared to be pretty all the time, while still possessing enough ambient doodads to keep you interested beyond the first listen. What's so great is that every single song, while shooting from Dylan to CSN to Buffalo Springfield to some Beatles Helter Skelter moments, each song is not only enjoyable, but make themselves relevant within the tapestry of the whole album. The title track's lyrics has potential for the defining anthem of disillusioned 20-something year-old males coming to terms with the reality, surrender, and beauty of a committed relationship. NOT THAT I AM AT ALL PONDERING SUCH QUESTIONS IN MY OWN LIFE RIGHT NOW.

Bon Iver - For Emma, Forever Ago
It is almost required that you play this album only during the dark depths of a grey winter afternoon when the light is failing. To say this album is precious would be the gravest of understatements. but it's preciousness is different than, say, a Sufjan Stevens album. Complimenting the astonishing bare spaces of the album, Justin Vernon's voice grabs on to a heat in his most expressive moments that gives the album a hopeful twist, kind of like a hibernating animal who gets up to howl at the moon just to let you know it's still alive. His lyrics are pretty cryptic and fragmented, and to try to comprehend full meaning is a futile task. What I've taken from such lines as "someday my pain....." and "all at once, rushin from the subpump" are meant as images more than qualified stories - which, in the heat of things in life, sometimes are all we remember.

DJ Dangermouse - The Grey Album
This is my lame-ass way-too-late-to-be-relevant pick for this year. I remind you, that this list is simply the albums I discovered this year, which do include a few oldies....
I remember Jon Staron playing this for me way back in the Papa JonStaronMobile SpaceCruise days, and I really wasn't very down with it at the time. I was so offended by the chopping up and mutilation of my favorite Beatles album that I couldn't get to the enjoyable part. That's where my other mash-up pick for this year, Girl Talk, comes into play. Greg Gillis taught me that mash-ups are not meant to be just a "different version" of old albums - they're intended to be entirely new beasts, that catch your attention with familiar hooks, and usher you in the door for an experience that may have nothing to do with how you got interested in the first place. A swindling? Maybe. But since I have developed an appreciation for Jay-Z's lyrics with the help of my thug baby Rachel Marie, I'm a little more inclined to go along with the ride. "This ain't the show, I'm just EQ'in it..."

Fleet Foxes
I remember hearing Fleet Foxes' Mykonos on the Current and initially thought that My Morning Jacket had finally made the turn I was waiting for them to make - turns out it wasn't them- the Jackets ended up making Peanut Butter Pudding Surprise and the worst album cover ever. I saw the Foxes play at the Seventh Street Entry this summer and witnessed some kids obviously on X in front of us freak out in the most annoying way possible for the show's duration... fortunately, the band's incredible show transcended that distraction, and had everybody at attention the entire show. My second favorite show of the year - this music sounds old and new at the same time and really brings musicality back to the forefront of independent music. I expect great things from this band.

Girl Talk - Feed The Animals
Okay, I'm shortening things up from here since the delay on this post is really getting dumb. Girl Talk sounds like the dumbest thing you've ever heard of, and is conversely just about the coolest thing you'll ever hear. I missed their show in the TC as well as in Des Moines, and Greg Gillis currently enjoys a spot as the Holy Grail of yet-to-be seen live shows. Liz Cavert said there was nothing more beautiful than watching a First Avenue full of Indie kids screaming along to Kelly Clarkson's Since You've Been Gone, and I can't imagine disagreeing with her.

LCD Soundsystem - Sound Of Silver
I first really heard these guys opening for Arcade Fire in the tin can of Roy Wilkins Auditorium, and I still enjoyed the experience, which made me thing that I would really enjoy it if I could actually hear what was going on. A highly danceable and workoutable album that is not afraid to stretch out those jams to meditative grooves that are great for math-oriented home or office work. All My Friends is one of my favorite tracks all year, and is a great rallying cry for the displaced young professionals missing their friends thrown every direction about the country.

Charlie Parr - Jubilee
Are you ready? Are you ready? I am very ready to see Mr. Parr this weekend at the Turf Club, as this one has been rising quickly up my list -this Duluther makes all of his original tracks sound like someone's been singing them for 80 years. It's the sound of someone truly enjoying the music he's playing and words he's saying, and doesn't get too lost in traditional tomes of bluegrass that he can't emerge with fresh ideas on chord structure and lyrical content that elevate his music to a higher level of engagement. Twenty Nine is a somber standout track regarding the tales of premature departures that sound a little too vivid to be entirely fictional.

Punch Brothers - Punch
I was pretty skeptical about another Chris Thile project, as his solo projects after Nickel Creek had somewhat run their course as a defiant "I'm not that pudgy homeschooled mandolin dork I used to be because I swear and play electric guitars", so I was pleasantly surprised to find an entirely different sound with the Punch Brothers. Made of some amazing technical geniuses, the album is essentially a classical epic played on acoustic instruments and divided into movements, that have recurring fugues and emotive qualities to the rise and fall of each track. To anchor these lofty and potentially stuffy instrumentals, Thile lays down a limited amount of vocals that clearly narrate the images the listener can carry throughout the linked movements. It is bridges to traditional music like this album and that give me hope that the elements of musical genres like jazz and classical will still find relevance within popular culture. Okay, I was in band in high school.

The Dodos - Visiter
If I have learned one thing from this year, it is this: there is alwas at least one amazing song that you've never heard of on every BG Mix CD. I believe this one - Jodi is the song - was found on #40, and it led me straight into the arms of one of the most highly energized, astounding bands and live shows I've seen in years. The Dodos consist of just two dudes, Meric Long on a blistering deep fried acoustic guitar, and Logan Kroeber on the ever-polyrhythmic drums. Their songs carry in them such frenetic and playful energy that you cannot help but tap, sing, and yelp right along with them. It is appropriate that what is likely my favorite album of the bunch is the hardest to describe. Vocals at times shaking with nerves, or ringing with naive braggadocio, or shimmering with a warm afterglow....guitar that sounds like it was being played by Jimi Hendrix after four lines of cocaine while falling down the stairs...sonically shaped lyrics meant to act as a third instrument....hyper drumbeats that threaten to take off down the block if unchained.... just listen and don't waste time thinking about how these dudes are like 24 years old.

Vampire Weekend
Yes, it stood the test of an entire years worth of scrutiny, but not before a few moments of disappointment. I heard Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa on the Current, scrambled to find the artist and immediately heralded VW as the next Paul Simon.... it turns out that they are more like Paul Simons know-it-all nephews who fell into some old money on the East Coast. They play up the preppy New England vibe just as much or more than their worldly musical reach, and it took a period of reckoning to come to terms with this thought. But after letting Bryn and M79 creep into my subconscious, I didn't really care who they were, they just knew how to make me belt out the WOOOOOOAHs and gainless guitar riffs over and over again. It feels so unnatural.. Peter Gabriel too.

Whew, at long last, and only a month late!!!! Some other highly recommended discs from this year below. I'd love to hear your comments on the list - but then again it took me four months to post on my blog, so I don't know how many of you are still hanging on...

Love to all and go see a show this weekend.

Second Tier
Black Moth Super Rainbow - Dandelion Gum
Conor Oberst
MGMT - Oracular Spectacular
Q-Tip - The Renaissance
Sigur Ros - Med Sud I Eyrum Vid Spilum Endalaust
Sun Kil Moon - April
Weezer - The Red Album
Mates of State - Re-Arrange Us

Third Tier
Ben Folds - Way To Normal
Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin
Cloud Cult - Feel Good Ghosts
Crosby Stills & Nash
Lil Wayne - Tha Carter III
Ray Lamontagne - Gossip In The Grain
Rivers Cuomo - Alone I
The Hold Steady - Stay Positive
The Magnetic Fields - Distortion
The Roots - Rising Down
Eddie Vedder - Into The Wild Soundtrack

Albums I need to hear more:
Bonnie "Prince" Billy - Lie Down In The Light
Retribution Gospel Choir
Atmosphere - When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold

Mr. Walding Goes To Washington

2008-04-24T16:17:00.001-05:00

A dream I had last night that deserves some wider distribution:

I somehow found myself on the campaign staff of John McCain, and he was speaking at the White House. Security was high, but I somehow had high clearance and could move about pretty easily around the various rooms. Problem was, I had to take a shit REALLY BAD. I went from bathroom to bathroom, looking for a suitable toilet, but all I found were urinals, sinks, and even those dental spittoons for some reason, but no decent toilet. Finally I had to dump so bad, that I found a more low-lying sink, and started to do my business in there, rather than shit myself. As I settled in for a stressful, but relieving bowel movement, I noticed two things - there was a mirror facing me that looked very suspicious, and I realized that there was a camera behind it, and this was all being monitored. Secondly, I saw a map or diagram of the white house on the wall as well, and saw that they had everyone's name who was at the event, and where they were supposed to be sitting. Suddenly, as I was examining it closer - although it was made of what looked like paper - the image suddenly changed to a generic map of the united states. I realized that I had found myself in some wash room of central security within the white house, and had stumbled upon some advanced surveillance technology, and had just been found out, so the map was changed, and i was surely about to be caught - literally with my pants down. As I heard a lot of commotion and guns being drawn from outside the room, I remember one thought before I emerged from the dream- "oh well, I didn't like working for McCain anyway."

Top Ten 2007

2008-02-19T22:51:00.000-06:00

Ladies and Gentlemen – my apologies. Between a holiday season of criss-crossing the Midwest, weekend trips on mountain tops and in mall-bars in Sioux Falls, a computer episode that brought my machine toward the light before coming back, the sorrowful crash of the Zen mp3 player and a few decent bouts with good ol’ plain laziness, I have completed the list for you to bash, get bored with, and realize that this probably wasn’t worth the wait. Nevertheless, with all its warts:

The 2007 Top Ten ( in no particular order)

The Shins – Wincing The Night Away

This was another album whose expectations I had for it would be hard to meet going in – it came pretty close. Although they have slightly stretched out in terms of style (a little funky breakdown in Sea Legs, some jangly pop of Phantom Limb) they’ve mostly stayed true to what’s made them so endearing: bright, earnest vocals wrapped in the enigma of cryptic language, ringing guitars whose riffs echo in your head for days, and a warm softness you can cuddle up to. Australia got the honor of “most played” on my mp3 player this year.

Nostalgialia: Blasting this one in my house during the day at the depths of my unemployed stint in January, realizing that mine wasn’t a lost cause, and remembering to enjoy my life even if I was apprehensive as to what would come next.

The Arcade Fire – Neon Bible

It took me a while to catch on to what it exactly was that made The Arcade Fire so good, but once I heard this album, it came together for me, and I appreciated their first album Funeral in a new light. The tension in Win Butler’s voice brings a sadness that’s far from hopeless – a mourning for past loss, but a determination for a better future. The nods to Bruce Springsteen are not unfounded, not only in tone but also in message. I get the same feeling listening to Keep The Car Running as I do when they play One Shining Moment after the NCAA Tournament.

Nostalgialia: Second best live show of the year at Roy Wilkins Auditorium, of all places. Although Win Butler’s presence is huge, it’s pretty obvious that the real ringleader whose energy keeps everyone in the band/family going is Renee Chassagne (sp?) – all 5 feet of her is like a rolling fireball with an accordion – do not deny yourself the responsibility of seeing these 8 or so spazzoids if they come close.

Girl Talk – Night Ripper

Gotta give the nod to JimiMac for tossing this CD my way with very little explanation – “did you listen to music in the 90’s? Just play it” I think may have been his words. This disc is an ADHD romp whose songs really have no beginning or end, but are an unflagging assault that trips both your groove meter as well as your adolescent/college memories of classic rock, 80’s top 40, hip hop, indie and alternative rock. No less than 100 different samples are layered over each other and are tied together with some nasty hip hop lyrics, the majority of which I was shocked to learn that my girlfriend could sing along with. I have definitely had some skepticism of this whole mash-up craze, but this fruitcake of music culture has some staying power that has lingered well beyond the novelty of its first listen.

Nostalgialia: Driving the great plains of interior Kansas with Rachel, complimenting each other quite conveniently as I knew most of the backbeat samples while she took care of the Jay Z, Notorious BIG, and references to “yurple.” Tried to be cool by driving past the McDonald’s after Rachel told me there was nothing else around, and in 15 minutes wanted nothing more than a BigMac in my mouth.

Deerhoof – Friend Opportunity

You have to give me at least this one “art rock” entry into the fray. I first saw Deerhoof open up for Wilco back in 2004, and while I definitely didn’t immediately “get it,” there was something so unapologetically strange about their sound that mixed this Japanese singer of mostly onomatopoeic “choo choo choos” and “bap buh bap bohs” with angular and dissonant (but calculated) guitar work and a super tight drummer that I couldn’t just ignore them. Previous albums left me intrigued, but before Friend Opportunity, their meandering melodies and empty space gave me too much to think about and too little to love. This album sharpens their focus, comes up with some killer hooks that add heart to their typical head trips. Look Away, the last rambling track, is an intimidating first listen, but has become my favorite song to play really loud when I’m feeling my oddest.

Nostalgialia: First time hearing a few tracks was on the 13 hour DJ Show best known as A Road Trip With Bryan Gates. On the way back from Kansas, we blow a tire just south of Des Moines. After an adventurous 3 hours in a West Des Moines Walmart Auto Shop, we emerge with a fixed tire, an unordered oil change, and a loose hood latch. Wha? A perfect story to match the strangeness of this album.

Jose Gonzalez – In Our Nature

One has to assume that there will be an album that Jose Gonzalez will put out someday that might not be stellar. Fortunately we have some time before we’re faced with this deflation. Although his style his not changed that much since Veneer, he emerges more frequently and confidently from his brilliant loops and fugues of finger picking to farther reaches of lyrical and vocal ideas. In the opening track How Low, he decries the villainry inherent in the power structure of our times: “Someday, you’ll be up to your knees in the sh*t you see.” I’ve often imagined Jose creating these songs, just moving his fingers in a rhythm across the strings, tweaking things here and there for hours, until the groove is solidified, and that groove extracting first sounds, then pieces of words, then finally strings of thought that all emerge organically. This process can essentially be heard happening within the epic Cycling Trivialities: as the song title echoes over and over and the end of the song, supplemented by a subtle but vital ambient organ drone, the groove that he’s established in both soft and hammering waves is suddenly released to wander and amble into oblivion, countering the steady march of the song’s beginning with a gentle freedom and airiness that makes me wonder if the song’s mantra - “it all comes down to Cycling Trivialities” - is less a pessimistic and helpless surrender, but a rejection and release from the confines of our own thoughts.

Nostalgialia: Becoming increasingly enraged at the state of our country and the spin and deception that the current administration has presented to us, creating an environment of fear and consumerism that is highly infectious and hard to avoid completely. Jose’s simple defiant messages helped me to clarify my thoughts and give me hope for better things to come.

Iron & Wine – The Shepherd’s Dog

This one for me should have a subtitle for me that reads: Or How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Band. It’s Sam Beam’s first full (deep) plunge into a complete and complex ensemble sound, and fortunately, the mourning period was cut pleasantly short as what emerged was a multi-layered masterpiece that gathered influences from far-reaching places (shades of his stint with Calexico, a reverb heavy AfroBeat sound in Wolves, the Bayou accordion on Lovesong of the Buzzard) and still has me discovering more with every listen. However, the element that made this transition so easy to make is that his lyrics lose none of their bold imagery and potent relevant personal and social messages that he’s crafted in past albums, and are becoming refined into some of the most skillful wordplay I’ve ever heard. Innocent Bones has a couple of the best jewels: “every tongue that gets bit always has another word to say” and “there ain’t a penthouse Christian that likes the pain of the scab, but they all want the scar.” In Lovesong Of The Buzzard, Beam cuts to the core of innocent but profoundly intimate moments: “Lucy tells me jokingly to wipe her brow”….

Nostalgialia: My stubborn paradigm of “simpler (like Our Endless Numbered Days) is better” melting away as I hear the album being broken down and revered on MusicHeads. Even Mark Wheat liked it, and he is one of the more snobbish music critics I’ve ever heard.

Neil Young – Live at Massey Hall

I’ve been looking for an appropriate on-ramp to Neil Young for many years, as I feel like I’m missing a big piece of the Americana/Folk/Rock revolution of the 60’s and 70’s, and I’ve heard so much waxing poetic from both my dad (and much of his generation) as well as those among my friends (Lucido, Curran, Gates) who really find it hard to describe how strongly they do feel about his music. Problem is, his work has been spotty in recent times (High: Greendale, Low: Let’s Roll) and I had yet to come up with the right angle of attack to understand his vibe. I couldn’t have asked for a better gift than this album. Catching Young in the prime of his songwriting career, we see epic songs like Old Man, A Man Needs a Maid, and The Needle And The Damage Done fresh off the press, and they gleam in a stripped down one-man set that is stunning in its fidelity for a show recorded in 1971. I imagine folks in the audience hearing these songs and this singer for the first time, with their jaws wide open at seeing one of the foremost spokespersons for their generation and understand a little more why my parents get a far-off look in their eyes and a satisfied grin on their faces when they talk about music they heard during that time period. Sometimes I get jealous.

Nostalgialia: Waiting for my South High Squall Ultimate B Team to arrive at a far off western Minneapolis suburb league game, I called my dad and talked with him for a half hour about this new album, telling him that I heard the picking and guitar styles in Neil Young that became embedded in my bones over countless nights hearing my dad play us to sleep with his own guitar. Dad admitted that Neil Young was his biggest influence when he was learning to play – I understand a little bit more about both of them now.

Kanye West – Graduation

Gone are the funny-maybe-twice skits in between songs. Mostly gone are the guest rappers. Gone are my hesitations towards buying in to what Kanye is selling. This is probably the funnest (I don’t care if that’s not a word) album all year. The one where you forget about how every damn word on this album is dripping with ego. You forget about how auto-tuned T-Pain’s voice is in The Good Life. You forget about how he rhymes “morning” with “DeLorean”. You gloss over how “Barry Bonds” has nothing to do with Barry Bonds. Why? Because you don’t want to miss the party going on here. The backbeats that lean less on old soul and more on smoother vibes of Steely Dan, Daft Punk, and Euro-synth, and pump an energy into the rhymes that I haven’t felt in his previous albums. If you can get over that slightly squeamish feeling of turning up the wonderfully audacious lines like “I’m like a fly Malcolm X, buy any jeans necessary” and “with my ego, I can stand there in a speedo and be looked at like a f*ckin hero” then there is no limit to the enjoyment of this album. He can even make a collaboration with the guy from Coldplay sound not only appropriate, but a clever and meaningful shoutout to his hometown – it can even withstand a lyrical reference later in the album to Coldplay. Impressive. This one is definitely top five all time hip hop albums for me.

Nostalgialia: My 2007 Ultimate Pump Up album. The typical soundtrack as I’m poppin Advil & Prilosec, throwin on my dirty Phish headband, and chowin on a granola bar on Cedar Ave in my car before practice at Nokomis. This album increased my vertical by two inches.

The White Stripes – Icky Thump

I had an argument with a guy about the White Stripes recently. He said they were alright, but could not get over that he thought Meg White was a horrible drummer. While I agreed that technically she certainly isn’t a Stewart Copeland (Police) or John Bonham (Led Zeppelin), I felt like her role is that of a simple and loose counterpoint to Jack White’s high-energy, high-flying intricate vocals and guitar shredding – similar to Ringo Starr’s role in the Beatles. Sometimes you don’t need the most precision to rock the hardest. After some amount of quieter exploration in Get Behind Me Satan, their last album, Icky Thump comes back to the meat and potatoes of the White Stripes sound – an audio assault rich with the energy of road house blues that takes tangents producing a similar wall of sound originating from other areas of the world (the Mariachi horns of Conquest, the droning bagpipes of Prickly Thorn and St. Andrew). With Jack White using his Raconteurs to express his more precocious pop ideas, he can utilize the Stripes for their best suited cause: kicking ass in places we never knew ass could be kicked. They are the #1 act I would most like to see live right now.

Nostalgialia: Pumping the pedals up the hills near the Wabasha Caves of St Paul in my newfound delight of metro exploration via Heyward’s bike, when ultimate practices became scarce in the fall. My quads always start to twitch when I hear the title track. A highly recommended workout CD.

Bright Eyes – Cassadaga

I think people have a lot of issues with the songs of Conor Oberst, with the argument that his voice sounds so overly emotional that he can’t possibly be that sad or scared or angry. I don’t know that I would entirely disagree with that sentiment. Fortunately, his musical and lyrical ideas have sustained my interest even while his voice has given me pause to question his a) sentiment and b) vocal ability. I would invite everyone who has had the same trepidation about Bright Eyes to give this album a spin. Oberst’s focus on Cassadaga’s melody and aversion from the panicked yelps of past albums has Bright Eyes sounding like I’ve always dreamed they could sound. It is an epic album that starts with an appropriate wave of orchestral noise that gets boiled down to Conor, his guitar, and a simple song trying to make sense of the world around him through mazes of religion, culture and vices. The album weaves countrified love songs, middle eastern mantras and tender ballads swirling in complex string arrangements, and marks the bands best musical endeavor by a long shot. But as usual, the element that has me floored at every listen is the stark power of the lyrics that Oberst seems to wield over a vast spectrum between personal and political. At 28, he is looking for a greater peace, but not until he has some questions answered. In Coat Check Dream Song, someone is “Stuck on a ladder to heaven, on a trial way back in the Hague” – this may be about himself or some political figure, but they key word is “stuck”. In many instances, Oberst celebrates acceptance – he shrugs with “everything it must belong somewhere/ they locked the devil in the basement, threw God up into the air” but even at the end of the album, Conor’s search appears unfinished - “I took off my shoes and walked into the woods/ I felt lost and found with every step I took (Lime Tree)”. I felt a very personal connection with this album’s balance of wanting answers, and feeling comfortable living inside the questions.

Nostalgialia: In the balcony of the State Theatre, looking down on a crew of musicians all dressed in white, I saw the best show of 2007, with a long-haired Oberst looking a lot less like a tortured indie kid and a lot more like a ringleader of some crazy spiritual revival chorus. He started a beer bottle fight with the drummer (from Sleater-Kinney!).

There you have it kids – and with only 1/6^th of 2008 gone by! There may be a quick follow up with a few of the most disappointing albums as well – we’ll see how saucy the compy is feeling.

2007 Album Review - Tier Two

2007-12-09T12:56:00.000-06:00

Here's the next batch of dank harmonic nugs that passed by my years in the past year, all just on the cusp of cracking that hallowed realm of the Top Ten. Mushy relationship stuff alert: a lot of memories with my girlfriend tied up with these albums.

Modest Mouse - We Were Dead Before The Ship Sank
Quite a bit of fanfare surrounded this album before and after it came out, and it was very clear that indie kids were supposed to like this album, because you have the Isaac Brock and you have the Johnny Marr from the Smiths, so this automatically equals 2 times indie fun. The reality? Well, kinda. I like to think that I'm not one of those people that get disappointed when their favorite bands start to change their sound from what it was when you started listening; and although Modest Mouse's sound has indeed changed, that's not why I'm excluding this from the Top Ten. I really like the changes, and songs like Dashboard and We Know Everything just show how incredible and versatile a songwriter Brock is. But I think it's when they try to create songs that sound like "traditional" Modest Mouse is when they get in trouble - "Fly Trapped in a Jar" and "Education" are examples of how the band may have outgrown the dissonant idiosyncrasies that originally defined them. These are only slight growing pains in an otherwise beautiful evolution, though. "Parting Of The Sensory" might be the best example of what I think they're doing right. Nostalgialia: My soundtrack as the snow finally melted and I was breathing the fresh Minnesota spring air while on runs and bike rides preparing for the Ultimate season - hands down my favorite time of the year.

Wilco - Sky Blue Sky
The album I was most excited for all year. That may have been the cause of the slight letdown- it could not have possibly met all of my expectations. That being said, this was the album that Wilco had to make after the stratospheric duo of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost Is Born. You can't top them, so don't. Simplify. Do more with less. And in that charge, they succeeded beautifully. The serenity of the first track sets the tone of calm warmth that pervaded the entire album. Pitchfork almost ruined this album for me after labeling it "dad rock". Notstalgialia: That calm warmth aligned perfectly with a drive back to Minnesota after a weekend in Kansas hanging with Rachel and her friends, realizing that the more I discovered about the girl's life, the more it felt right and familiar. I had incredibly found a girl and her social group who not only accepted me, but welcomed me and were excited for someone new - a rarity in my experience.

Ray Lamontagne - Till The Sun Turns Black
This one came to me via our incredible public radio station up in the Twin Cities, The Current. When I heard a few tracks from this album, I was pretty convinced that this was an old black man - then I did some research and found out that he's a 30-something white dude with a beard and worked in a shoe factory up until about 3 years ago. His voice (think Joe Cocker) is absolutely incredible, and this somber album drips with his earnestness and frailty. His style has plenty of soul, but his lyrics are very heady, and drum up a complexity of emotions over understated acoustic guitar, string and horn arrangements. Nostalgialia: That hour after waking up when Rachel and I are visiting each other, not wanting to move or get up or even talk, but just soaking in each other's presence, and, yes, cuddling. Gross.

Radiohead - In Rainbows
Surprising, perhaps that this isn't in the top ten, but this one also suffers from its late release in the year, and Radiohead albums usually take the longest to grow on me. This one is coming along nicely. Forget all the release hoopla, hows the music? Although a little less ambient Sigur Ros -type background noise, the album still has what feels like so many different little sonic nooks and crannies that I'm still discovering with every repeat listen. Bodysnatchers, and Jigsaw Falling Into Place gives this album the kinetic energy that they hadn't displayed since OK Computer's Electioneering. Just a few songs short of another Radiohead masterpiece - House Of Cards and Nude are decent tunes, but not hitting me in the sweetspot right now. Nostalgialia - Ushering in the period of the year that I dread the most - no sunlight as I leave work. I also anticipate this album to be the soundtrack to a lot of slow-moving commutes back to St Paul from work in the snow. Perhaps this is not the best choice if I want to actually enjoy this album.

Peter Bjorn and John - Writer's Block
This one took a long while to grow on me - I kinda helf-heartedly picked it up (free from a pink, four legged friend) on the word of Gates and Pitchfork, just to give it a chance. On first listen, it sounded a bit flat, European-type minimal, and off key. I was about to delete it from the Zen, when I decided that I hadn't listened enough to warrant a delete, so put it back in rotation. The hooks revealed themselves to be infectious, and the low-fi emptyness of their arrangements actually helped to give it a genuine vulnerability that I appreciated. Nostalgialia: Hearing it pop up on the ever high-profile Gates shuffle while drinking shots poured from a miniature statue's private parts. Best second-hand pickup ever.

Of Montreal - Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destoyer?
I feel pretty lucky that I started digging Of Montreal just as they are hitting their stride in bridging the gap between their meandering psychdelia of their origins and the undeniable danceability and driving energy of their past couple albums. If you get the chance, do your damndest to get to an Of Montreal show, and force those around you to dance, for the rewards are great. Nostalgialia: Picked up in the dead of winter, this album provided me a lift through the Subsyndromal Seasonal Affective Disorder that many get up here. Finding a great tempo to measure my jogging strides with in the 12 minute epic The Past Is A Grotesque Animal. "Come on mood shift, shift back to good again..."

John Hartford - Aereo-Plain
One of the couple of throwback albums on the list this year, the Family Combs introduced me to this seminal album that essentially started the "Newgrass" movement - using bluegrass roots to put together alternative arrangements that broke a lot of traditional rules, but resulted in a high-spirited, light-hearted adventure of an album that never fails to make me think that I would have given a lot to meet and hang out with this oddball of a renaissance man in his heyday. Nostalgialia: Inextricably tied to two siblings that have become a huge part of my life, and reflects the unequaled joy, kindness, humor, and sense of loving family that I witness in Ben and Rachel Combs. If I ever am missing either of those two (which happens quite often), I put this album on and instantly feel like they're in the room with me. Now that's a great album.

Demitri Martin - These Are Jokes
Yes, one more comedy album on the list. You could say that this brand of comedy has been pretty well tread recently, Martin sharing a lot of similarities to both Steven Wright and Mitch Hedburg (dry, quick deliveries of simple absurdities, the use of music in performance) but he is the first performer that, from my perspective, appears to be almost directly in line with my generation's (and my social circle's) viewpoint of the world. I have had the exact same thought about rainbows that he has. Nostalgialia: Nabbing this CD just as the Ultimate season got into full swing, and being excited that I might be able to pass off a lot of his jokes as my own. "that Walding always has some zingers up his sleeve, doesn't he?"

Clap Your Hands Say Yeah - Clap Your Hands Say Yeah
I'm just a tad late on this one, but sometimes I feel like I need to wait on some CDs for the hype to cool and listen to it without the feeling that "I should be liking this right now". The first time I listened, I was a little perturbed that the lead singer's voice sounded like Thom Yorke's on full annoyance overdrive; but once I kind of accepted it and got into the wonderful joyous grooves that these guys seem to be pretty natural at, it was a great listen. I definitely understand the comparisons to the Talking Heads. Maybe I'll dig into their second album next year.... Nostalgialia: Getting ready for a fancy-type date at the Loring Pasta Bar with Rachel with this getting us pumped to go, and imagining what it would like to get ready to hit the town at night all the time when we actually lived together. Sweet.

Blitzen Trapper - Wild Mountain Nation
Heard about this one on a program that was started on The Current called MusicHeads, where the DJs bring in new albums that they are excited about and talk about them in-depth. God bless that station. After hearing the excerpts from that show, I was interested in digging further into this band that had chunks of funky slide guitar country rock, Wolf Parade-like frenetic indie fugues, and a DIY sound that could have made them your next door neighbors whose basement is filled with dobros, keyboards and big drum sets, sounds loud, and smells herbal. The title track is a triumph of laid back country rock, but only hints at the complexities that are revealed if explored further. Nostalgialia: Hearing enough little tidbits on Musicheads as I'm pulling into my driveway to keep the car in park with the radio on for 15 more minutes to hear the discussion in full. Sometimes it's worth those fifteen minutes to be alone with music in the dark, and letting the rest of your life wait until the precious moment of musical discovery and connection has run its full course.

If I find a window this week, we'll tackle the Top Tier - one of the best Top Tens in recent memory! I'm also working on a small list of Year's biggest disappointments as well. #1 right now: University of Iowa athletics.

2007 Album Review: The Also-Rans

2007-12-05T21:00:00.000-06:00

I've flirted with doing an in-depth end of year music review for many years now, and it took a few false starts, a bloated MP3 player, and some carmelized pear and pecan ice cream to get me movin. It's actually happening, B Combs. In three parts, no less.

This post will document the Third Tier Albums that I came across in the last year (not necessarily those that came out this year) that were featured most prominently in my year's journey. To add a little context, I'm adding a few memories that are always conjured up whenever I hear that album come up on the ol' Zen Vision. I'm gonna try to follow up with Second Tier (11-20) and Top Tier (1-10) Posts before the New Music Year is upon us.

In no particular order:
Wolf Parade - Apologies To The Queen Mary
Part of the "yelp rock" craze the kids are diggin' right now, This is a tough first listen, as you have to get past the lead vocals' quirkiness to find the good stuff, but boy, there's good stuff. I have a feeling like the best of these guys is yet to come. There are a couple of really good tracks on this disc that I find myself skipping to every time (damn that mp3 player makes it so easy), one an aucoustic Beck-ish track, and one that Abby threw on a mix I have that gets me every time with the polyrhythms and the crazy retro computerish-sounding keyboard.
Nostalgialia: I see spring road trips, finally taking my jacket off as I head down to Kansas for either Ultimate or a secluded cabin that contains some incredible new friends and a cute girl that appears to like me. I've just secured both a job and graduate school acceptance, and am feeling better than I have in 6 months.

Thom Yorke - The Eraser
On the very cusp of Tier Two, Thom's first foray into solo-dom highlights two truths: Yorke shows no sign of losing his paranoid, jaded, brilliant lyrics for a long time to come; and, Johnny Greenwood, the guitarist for Radiohead, is more important than I realized. The computer-programmed back beats work some of the time, but often seem used as a background piece for his soliloquy. Nostalgialia: Driving in the deepest cold of January to a temp job up on Lexington Parkway to search the internet for legal firm addresses. Not the ideal situation, but much better than the nothing of December '06, and hopes of a stint at Patagonia are on the horizon. Also, the employees of Merrill Legal Solutions are more enjoyable and talkative than almost any group of engineers I've been around.

Ween - La Cucaracha
A late-year entry, which is always shoved to the front by its newness (especially a novelty act to begin with), but perpetuates Seiler's claim that the collection of Ween's best songs might be one of your favorite albums, and a collection of their worst songs would almost definitely be the most torturous hour of your life. Amidst some of their blander stuff (blue balloon? why did they make this song?) there are some zingers that show why Dean, the guitarist, should sing more (My Own Bare Hands) and how deliciously (and realistically) creepy Gene can be (SpiritWalker, Your Party). Includes the epic line "Ocean and land: ocean is land covered in water". Nostalgialia: Driving home for a trip to finally see my sis play collegiate soccer; not too enthused about the trip until uncontrollable laughter by myself in the car with this album kicked my spirits into high gear. Turned out to be a great weekend with lots of folks from my clan - beautiful fall weather that gave half my face a sunburn.

Jens Lekman - Night Falls Over Kortedala
Had to fill my yearly quota of baroque pop (see: Belle and Sebastian, Decemberists, The Divine Comedy). Although the album sounded highly unpolished for a pop piece (issues with vocal tuning and irregular drum tempo), I got over that very quickly as the first track blows you out of the water with a great horn section to start off. I thought a lot about the Cardigans & the Microphones as I listened to this. "I will never kiss anyone/ who doesn't burn me like the sun" might be one of my favorite lines this year. Nostalgialia: Playing as I finally finish off the wall decor in my new room upstairs in The Lexington Palace, and getting my affairs settled and accepting my winter domesticity after the nomadic hurricane of an Ultimate season.

Minus The Bear - Planet Of Ice
Got to thank Matty Ells for this pickup. Heard it hungover in his new Jetta the morning after Kevin & Lana's wedding, and through the pain still knew it was something I could get into. Kind of falls into that prog rock revival that I throw The Mars Volta, Mew, even Broken Social Scene in with - I am probably a little off on this thought, but somehow I feel like this is stuff that young kids just a few years behind me (smells, my 17 year old cousin Ben) are listening to that gives me hope that rock music is not done finding new ways to sound fresh and interesting. Why do I think about Steely Dan when I hear this? Why am I okay with that? Nostalgialia: Great supper-making music; that along with the Steely Dan undertones made me visualize and wonder what my dad used to play while making supper when he was a single guy living on his own? Might have led to my futile quest for facial hair like my father's.

Okkervil River - The Stage Names
I think the only reason this one didn't make the upper cut is that I have not been able to spend good time with it. Another "yelper," Bryan Gates threw "Our Life Is Not A Movie Or Maybe" onto his BG Mix #27 and got me yelping along 394 East many a summer evening. I like the undertones of dissonance that balance out the "Cure-esque" earnestness, kind of a Cure for a more complex time? That last sentence may have been a tad overwrought. Nostalgialia: A bike ride with Heyward back from stairs at Macalester Stadium talking about the album, and a thought of how much I've enjoyed sharing with Heyward our tastes and perspective on just about everything (music, food, beer, relationships, family, politics, etc), and how I think he's one of my favorite roommates I've ever had.

Patton Oswalt - Werewolves and Lollipops
Tough to put comedy albums on any kind of "top" lists, as their subject matter makes it less likely for repeat listens (but one did make it past this cut this year!) but I had to put a mention in on this one. His KFC's Bowls track was the single best bit I heard all year. "Happy Birthday, I'm 43." There are several more high quality tracks in here, but even beyond that, it's great listening to this CD, as his viewpoints on so many things line up with mine - I feel like it's kind of like listening to one of your friends go off on a tangent and you don't mind because it's hilarious shit coming out all over the place. Did someone say Joe Garvey? Nostalgialia: The ride back from Cooler with my good buddies Rouda and Gates - "everything in store four dollars." I need to take more road trips with these dudes.

Don't forget - Part Two coming soon - who do you think made the cut?

Engineering a Wardrobe

2007-11-08T17:50:00.000-06:00

I saw this a few months ago in a widely distributed profession magazine called Structural Engineer that I get at work, and it has stuck in my craw since then for its ridiculousness. This article is entitled "Dressing For Engineering Success", and so succinctly illustrates why I just don't think I was cut out for the engineer's life, or at least not able to work for Richard G. Weingardt, P.E.:

Some of my favorite passages:

"...in case some attractive girl had transferred to my school since last term." "Just wanna go ahead and establish my heterosexual status early on so everybody knows where I'm comin from."

-the "cat's meow" in quotation marks, to clearly indicate that this is a figure of speech, and should not be taken literally. What is with these new slang phrases the kids are using today?

-"how informally (and carelessly) people dress who travel on airplanes and other forms of transportation. No suits and ties to be seen, or only rarely." -yeah, now that you mention it, the last time I rode on the MetroTransit Route 37, I didn't see ANYONE dressed up for this Significant Transportation Event. Pretty damn careless. And what if a board meeting suddenly occurs midflight to Denver? Are you going to be ready?

-"it's as if we've all become rock or movie stars, or part of the artsy set" - I mean, what can you say? It's a pretty safe bet that in college this guy was rockin' his slide rule to Lawrence Welk while everyone else was at the Jerry Lee Lewis concert. Also, "just want to go ahead and reiterate my earlier stance that I am, in fact, a heterosexual so nobody is mistaken on that issue."

"Without engineering, people would still be living in mud huts and hope for the future would be bleak." -right, and if there weren't doctors, we would all be sick, bleeding and dying.... engineering is an
inevitable product of an advanced society; society is not a byproduct of engineering, don't get the
two confused.

"...whether we're professional enough to deserve respect and high regard" - I offer up the counter examples of Donald Trump and Kurt Vonnegut.

Within an article about "dressing for success," the author's awkward tangent regarding nobility, history, and engineering legends that culminates in a self- recommendation of his own book. "There are many good books that can be of assistance in this area....The Tower and the Bridge (Billington), Engineering Legends (Weingardt), and The Great Bridge (McCullough)." Weingardt at the office water cooler: "So everybody's talking about this Weingardt fellow....."

"But dressing well - not flashy, but fashionably - for work, airline travel, meeting with your minister or your children's principal, and so on, is rarely a bad idea." I really think this guy is just against changing his clothes very often. Is your minister really going to treat you differently if you wear jeans and a t-shirt, and if so, shouldn't you think about changing churches? I'd also like to pick has brain about his idea of the difference between flashy and fashionable. If I wore the most "fashionable" clothes I had to work, I would not look professional. I would look PIMP.

"If you've never studied or been coached on how to dress well for success, do so the first chance you get." In fact, Rich Weingardt knows this guy that he might recommend, you might have heard of him - Weingardt is his name, I think?

Overall, this is just a horribly written and self-serving article, and the fact that it went through an editor who approved it for a profession-wide publication speaks even worse for my number-crunching counterparts. Old Rich's monthly installments, "The View From Here", is the last editorial piece in the magazine, the Rick Reilly or the Andy Rooney of the structural engineering world - the "everyman" piece that should go over well with the majority of the readership. Am I that far off from the mean? I thank my lucky stars every day that I am.

The Bucket Tips

2007-09-20T10:20:00.000-05:00

As you will see from future blogs, the undulating cycles of life are what keep things interesting most of the time, no matter what mundane rut my bike tire is currently slogging through. It's been a deep rut recently, my job at a developmental standstill, a consequent unhealthy sleeping pattern, and far too little actual Ultimate to scamper around for.

But typically I welcome a change of season with a change for new outlooks and new attitudes and a reinvigorated sense of purpose and motivation, and the cold nights and changing leaves in Minnesota make for a picturesque setting for such revelations. Fortunately, through a confluence of many thoughts and events, I experienced that "tipped bucket" a couple nights ago.

As usual, I was having a hard time getting into bed, because, as we all know, once you hit that bed, you're on a direct schedule right to your office chair the next morning. My procrastinator this night happened to be looking for a new car. I have to admit that I've started getting obsessed with looking for the perfect deal, checking out websites for the right criteria, using my commutes to essentially scan the roadways for cars that I could see myself cruising in. I was getting so involved with this search online that I looked up and it was 1:30AM. 5 hours before my alarm would go off in the morning. This was unhealthy behavior. Reluctantly, I turned off the screen, lurched to the bathroom, removed contacts, brushed teeth, rolled into bed. As I turned out the lights, my thoughts were still dwelling on the car thing. Should I just take the next okay deal I see, should I be patient, should I be willing to spend more, can I afford any of this? The anxiety of overthought combined with the knowledge that I was keeping myself awake even longer was getting unsettling. Then, like a head dunked in cold water, a question appeared in my head. Why? Why are you worrying so much about a hunk of METAL? I have never in my life been too enamored of material goods - why would a car be any different?

The answer came quickly. I realized that it had nothing to do with the car. The car was an excuse. It was an excuse to invite something into my life that was different and new. It was a chance to spend my energy on possibilities of experience and ownership. But moreso, it was an escape from the dregs of my day-to-day existence, a place that I was unhappy with, and refused to deal with and truly examine for how I could make it better through means other than a "Significant Consumer Event". I realized that this was just one of several "band-aids" that I subconsciously implement to cover up issues that I'd rather turn away from. Then the floodgates opened up. How CAN I make my day-to-day better? What steps can I take to improve my situation without relying upon the beaten path of consumerism to make me feel better?

-talk to my supervisor about my lack of motivation, find tasks that keep me interested
-talk to a professor at the U about upcoming Urban Planning events and lectures
-read a good book
-talk to friends and family. Learn from their shared experiences.
-eat healthier
-take time out alone, quietly, to process my feelings and thoughts more often, to avoid these backlogs of anxiety and fear. Look into meditation techniques and theory.

It was a cathartic effect. It felt as if I had found a release valve, like I was free from a self-imposed confinement of the day-to-day, and realizing that a shake-up was necessary for me to remain focused, happy, and alive. I am sure that this will not be the last time I need to arrive at such a realization.

My lingering question is: what about people who don't ever get to that point - who let their feelings of restlessness, dissatisfaction and boredom sink in to their bones? Who may have, at one time, had ambitious goals of realizing and living out their passions, but are silenced and subdued by the spirit-suffocating structure of the Work-Shop-Consume lifestyle that is so encouraged and supported in this country? I think I know many people that lean towards this end of the spectrum. Should I tell them what's going on? Do they know, and are okay with it? Is it none of my business? I think I know what Rachel would say. And I bet she'd be right.

This is not to say that I'll stop looking for a car, sell all of my stuff and live in a tent - I mean, 256,000 miles is what it is, and I gotta get to Fool's Fest somehow - but I believe that the car buying process will be a much slower, more rational one, that will likely benefit both my purchase quality and my peace of mind. And that doesn't come standard on an '05 Civic EX.

Staying Classy

2007-07-18T23:20:00.000-05:00

And you've waited over three months for....this:

Just saw Anchorman for the first time tonight. How this one slipped through unwatched for this long is beyond me. I can't wait until this weekend when I start quoting all of the lines and everyone looks over and says "yeah, that was a zinger back in '05.

But seriously -
"It's so hot!!! Milk was a bad decision..."
"Zeus's Beard!"
"I love lamp. I love lamp."

Okay. Shake it out.

Gotta start - again - somewhere.

Environment vs Attitude

2007-04-05T21:04:00.000-05:00

"Do what you can, with what you have, where you are."

Words from Theodore Roosevelt - a man whose picture always reminds me of my father - a stout man full of energy and heart, and had a mind for preserving the natural environment when the cause would be about the last thing you would win an Oscar for. But I'm not specifying THAT environment - at least not tonight. In fact, I believe Teddy was also decrying "situational environment" in his quote - while championing the people placed within those various environments, and the attitudes they carried with them.

I've recently found myself in a new, but altogether familar environment, at an engineering firm in the suburbs of Minneapolis. It had been nearly five months since my last engineering job was ended due to a lack of work, and likely wasn't helped by my general detatchment from everything associated with the place. American flags and eagles (ALOT of them) in the lobby, a painful 45 minute commute both ways, an awkward move into a corner office that was nice, but indicated that I would soon be packing my books again. So, environment, a definite detractor.

But as Teddy claimed, all was not lost. Had I picked myself by my own bootstraps after the patriotic explosion in the lobby, ignored those red flags popping up in my social, political, and intellectual framework, sat down at my desk, and realized that all the rest was periphery to the task at hand, I might have been able to engage myself.

Unfortunately (from only a professional perspective), there are a lot of things in my life - Ultimate, music, a girlfriend - that I see as positives almost purely BECAUSE of attitude, and DESPITE environment. My Ultimate team didn't practice, and lived collectively over a thousand miles away from one another. My girlfriend lives 7 1/2 hours away, without pee stops. How could I make them such an intricate and rich part of my every day life? Purely through the will to do so, and the positive response and support I got from the individuals involved.

So whether it was all of the big box Target and Best Buys I was designing, my own insecurities of my skills as an engineer, or a dull, non-interactive 8 hours of checking minute details on plans whose errors were insignificant as the projects had already been built, or a combination of everything -I had a bad attitude, AND a bad environment. It was only a matter of time before our ways were parted.

In my new position, the environment is similar: catacomb-like hallways, not only devoid of, but I think perhaps negating sound that tries to escape the cubicle walls, and a pervasive male dominance that allows my supervisor to comment on the "young, hot secretary" within 20 minutes of my first day. But what has been the difference that I think will make this adventure, however brief or long it may be, a successful one, is the realization that my environment can affect me only as much as my attitude allows. It is a realization that has grown and matured in every passing year of my life, and I think is one of the big perks of growing up (despite many drawbacks). Although I don't appear to currently flow in sync with the majority of my coworkers, it certainly doesn't mean that I can't find opportunities to accomplish goals and improve my problem-solving ability by my own rules. The benefits are already starting to pay off - I can tell the quality of my work is better, and today my supervisor changed a set of his own calcs because he thought a method I used in my own calcs were a better approach. And perhaps we will have more to talk about than the young hot secretary.

This, I think, is the same reason that I look more and more favorably towards growing into a weird old man. I will be the one who says inappropriate things because I've put less emphasis on the correct environment to say them, and more upon how strongly I feel about what I'm going to say. This also allows me to sympathize with my late grandfather, who, at a family reunion, with absolutely no prompting, asked my uncle "Now, David, does your scrotum hit the toilet water when you're on the pot? What? (noticing the shock and disbelief in the family members around him) I think it's a problem with the water level in our cabin!!" He just wanted to know! Didn't want to wait for the "right time" to ask. I am doomed to follow. Rach, get ready.

But these are my current thoughts. That treasured attitude diverter, Ultimate, is banging impatiently at the door. And that Combs girl just keeps getting cuter every time we hang out. Will I get lucky enough to find a balance of positive energy in the right places to allow attitude to overcome less-than desirable environments? 1-2-3-4 I declare a mental war.

Foolish apparel

2007-03-30T13:17:00.000-05:00

Heading south this weekend - all too excited. I think there are some posts bubbling within, soon enough.

I'm wearing plaid pants today, and a plain shirt. Getting some smirks and a few "nice pants" comments - gratifying enough. But why do people so often go for the plaid TOP and plain bottom, rather than the otehr way around? Why not BOTH? Wait, I guess I know the answer to that.

I'd rather be :boar hunting.

The Colors, Children...

2007-02-13T01:32:00.000-06:00

Before I continue the youngin' diatribe, just some good news being passed my way today:
- I got a job offer at Stanley Consulatants, doing structural engineering, some of which will be in biodiesel and new ethanol plants
- I got accepted to the U of Minnesota Urban & Regional Planning graduate program
-I get to welcome the Kiwied Benjamin Rouda back to his first subfreezing evening in 4 months tomorrow night

Some days it's fun to read your email and pick up your phone.

As a child, did you ever want to meet yourself as a grownup? I really wanted that to happen, and I swore that I would be the coolest guy ever, I would be in a sweet band, and be in (or perhaps on my way to being in) the NBA. I believe, unfortunately, that I have fallen short in every category, unless you count the Super Intelligent Guy Team as a sweet band, and if you don't want to eat some foul-ass rock'n'roll crow, I'd suggest counting it.

I really wonder if my large spectacle-wearing, gap-toothed, bowl-cut self would be at all impressed or even relate to who I am and what defines me now. It seems like there have been far too many heartbreaks, insults, fights, beers, friends, destinations, accomplishments, and blows to the head in between then and now for me to maintain even a strand of the dreams, thoughts, and aspirations that I had for myself back then. But then again, I wasn't a dumb kid. Maybe I'd be okay shifting my paradigm from the NBA to The World Ultimate Club Championship in Perth. And one crappy band, a yet-to-exist band idea, and a few acoustic songs on MySpace ALMOST add up to being in a SWEET band, right? And instead of me being the coolest guy ever, I can at least say that I am friends with Julian Ryba-White.

So although it's perhaps not quite what I had extrapolated in my muffin-shaped head, in was in the same ballpark. And so maybe these undercurrents that have linked me back to that self - the reason I still say "that's me" when I look at old photos - are alive and well, and while I tend to inexorably look forward, the sketch of my blueprints were etched with a crayola back in Mrs. Lidgett's K-1 play table, and I've been fine-tuning them ever since.

Also, if I got to hang out with my young self, we would most certainly be watching ALF, eating cheddar cheese and crackers, and combining our Lego collections to make the largest spacecraft yet.

Time to bust a rhyme?

2007-02-09T00:52:00.000-06:00

First off, congrats to Lana and Kevin.... and Nathan and Laura, and Valerie and Chris, and Kristin and Shikhar, and cuz Nathan and - his fiancee, and Megan and Joe, and Jimi and Jenny ... whew... on their engagement. It will be a summer full of loosened ties, mix cds and awkward drunken toasts. I suppose this means it is that time in my life when a lot of my friends get married; I had been dreading this perceived hazardous step into adulthood, but my slowly changing feelings of initial shock when hearing this news has turned to "sounds about right" type feelings. It is time to get on with such things in our collective journey.

I've been thinking recently about the interactions that children have with adults, and vice versa, and how it's a miracle that anything at all is communicated between the two.

A quote from the oft-Lexington Palace-bandied film Waking Life still sticks in my head - every 7 years most cells (save brain, spinal, and bone, I'm guessing) in your body have expired and new ones have taken their place. That basically means that every seven years you are an entirely new person, and only your memory serves to link you to your former self. Seems a bit precarious, doesn't it? All that I have to relate to the kids in Chuck E Cheese that prevented Kevin from allowing me to be witness to The Precious Moment is an image of me being that small, scrawny ginger thinking those same skiball-centric thoughts. When a girl wanted to ride the motorized bus-helicopter thing I was leaning on, she pictured me as a direct threat to her riding experience, and without a word, pushed/punched my ribcage to let me know I was not wanted interfering with her hydraulicly enhanced adventure. An icy glare followed, and after I chuckled and backed away, a vehement "shut up" was thrown in my direction, apparently indicating that I was not to be relating my tale of abuse to anyone in the CEC arena.

Although initially bewildered at such behavior, I recalled times in my own childhood, when some adult, through little to no fault of their own, became the very object of my collective hatred for about 10 seconds. This guy won't move so I can have better cookie accessibility at grandmas. This babysitter doesn't understand that I want these apples QUARTERED, not EIGHTHED when applying peanut butter to them. My uncle doesn't let me win at checkers like my dad does. All could have been card-carrying officers of the third Reich for those brief moments of child-wrapped anger.

More tomorrow on my involutary holiday. I'm tarred.

America....Huck Yeah

2006-12-18T01:58:00.000-06:00

Maybe really back now? Just took the GRE on Friday, I think it went alright, AND now I've got zingers like "lugubrious" and "exigent" to whip out when I feel like getting my face punched in. On to the job apps.

One of my GRE essay questions brought me right back to New Zealand, and another story I'll cherish from the trip. The topic I was to write on for 45 minutes was something like this:

One cannot truly know their own culture until first immersing oneself into a new, totally unrelated culture for a period of time.

I must say I grinned a bit when seeing it, as numerous personal examples flooded my head from experiences in the South Pacific. One such example was from a night in one of the foulest smelling places I've ever been to, Rotorua.

We (or maybe I) were all feeling lost in a way. There was so much foreign to everyone. Very few people that were patronizing the hostel bar that night had been there longer than a week. We were all clinging to anything familiar and solid. We had just gotten back from the Hangi feast, where our appetite for cultural diversity had been more than satiated, and I could see it in the eyes of my travel mates that more than anything, we wanted a piece of home. Conversation wandered toward what our families were doing for Christmas, everyone had half a mind halfway around the world. Something, however, drove us to continue with the night's activities, perhaps IT being the perceived potential to make a part of this situation familiar by engaging.

This, by the by, is why I love hanging around folks like Dave, Jon, Ellen, Stu, Christina, because they look at any night, any hour, any moment, as the one that will be talked about for years. They are looking to make history, even in settings that look pretty damn mundane. When I find myself with these people, I am consistently the one they have to drag along, not wanting to sacrifice my percieved comfort for a risk that might leave me doubtful, embarrassed, weary or perhaps sleeping in a construction site. What usually happens is that I am loathe to commit, but once I do I end up either having a wonderful time or having a great story to tell. This happens to fit into both categories.

Yes, we endured the Xmas talks, and the 3 more pretty shitty Speights and Tui pints until the night was fully lubricated. We had tried to spark up convos with our busmates, but it appeared that the KiwiExperience's reputation as the Big Green F*ck Bus was working its amorous magic upon our UK and US counterparts who were more interested in holding hands and staring longingly than chancing an effort with cross cultural 20 questions.

Fortunately for us, the were some locals who weren't so romantically inclined. An Irish named Ethan and a Maori (BJ? Dave, you'll have to help me with his name) who had established a presence in Rotorua that frequented the hostel pub either bumped, flirted, or mistakenly engaged us in conversation. The Irishman was mostly concerned with fundamental philosophical truths that night, and expectedly, I was hooked. I got very little of what he imparted; between the 4 pints and my struggle with his deep brogue, all that remains from our exchange is this:

Ethan: Let me ask you this, Shawn: Do you remember the time before you were born?
Shawn (slowly reflecting, smitten with the realization): No, actually, not at all.
Ethan: Exactly, and that is why the essence of life is this: The Absence Of Nothing.

I have yet to fully comprehend the meaning behind Ethan's words that night, but at the time, I was forced to stuff it in my mental back pocket, as the next thing I knew, we were wisked away from our adopted home of Hostelville, and transported to a truly foreign, yet somehow more comfortable scene of the Townie Club. The Bar Barella was the after-hours dance club that the locals haunted, and it immediately felt more chill and less contrived than our previous stop, and while I spent most of my hour there dancing with Jon and Ellen, I was mostly looking in on what life was like for a local Rotoruan. There were cliques, confrontations, old friends, new flings, bad baseball caps, thugs, punks, artists, jocks - all with the small town feel that I knew all too well from the good Ol' Siouxer. The differences? Trivial. More racial diversity, more Eurotrash techno, less country, less drunk driving, more meat pies from the bar, but that was about it. There was no heightened sense of urgency like we'd discovered in our travels, just another night out in Rotorua to distract from jobs, responsibilities, bills, parents, etc. Although it was brief, it was one of my most treasured travels on our trip, as it was so unique in its domesticity.

As we departed from our new friends, Ethan's words of fundamental truth were bouncing around my head, and as the beat from Bar Barella faded away, I realized that this, along with most of my nights I had spent on this adventure, had indeed been the Absence of Nothing. At least that's what should be going on if your symptoms are persistant stomachache, nightly exhaustion, and a wicked compounding sunburn.

Still Up

2006-12-10T04:12:00.000-06:00

I have a tremendous problem going to bed when I have nothing to get up for the next day.

There is a large bend in the river up ahead. Paddle hard.

A Chocka Head

2006-11-30T10:12:00.000-06:00

Well, the big plans for keeping this blog current during my travels went a bit awry, but a writer needs to compile things to write about, and I felt my time was better spent living than reporting. I'm sure the stories will trickle through the filter as I descend into the darkness of the North Winter.

Some of my thoughts on the tournament, my team, my trip, and traveling:

Were it not for the minor detail of being somewhat disappointed with our finish, I would have to say that this was the most incredible Ultimate tournament I've ever been to. I loved most everything about it - from the opening ceremony (could have done without the Vegemite dancers) to the high levels of Spirit from each team (although it slightly faded as the week went by) to getting the experience of playing the methodical Japanese teams to the long but always memorable crowded bus rides home where I met someone new each night to jersey trading night to...... you get the picture. These were full days, and each hour revealed a rich new wrinkle to the trip.

Trade night was one of the more interesting social and cultural experiences on the trip. Lana pushed to get there early so we could find a table to set up our wares, and we were well to heed her advice. No later than 15 minutes after we had gotten there, the tent was "chocka" with players from everywhere that were unified by the hungry look in their eyes for SHWAG. It was our version of Black Friday. All social and language barriers were checked at the door, and 800 jerseys still wet from the day's play were put on display in every color, shape and pattern imaginable. Mini-economies, marketing schemes, product placements and 2-for-1 going-out-of-business sales were instantaneously put in place in this impromptu free enterprise arena. And the best part? No one wanted anything to do with money. I had placed some extra Chad jerseys out for cash sale only, and everyone who came by and asked what I wanted for them looked severely disappointed and a little confused that I wanted CASH for them. In the end, half of CLX wound up buying all of the shirts I had on the table, so THEY could go trade other jerseys for them. Dri-fit, Capilene, and Flo-Tech was the accepted currency that night. I somehow had extended conversations with people that knew not one word of English, and even communicated to a gentleman from Japan that we'd set up a delayed trade in which I would get his jersey after he was done playing in it two days later. Try doing that with hand gestures and facial expressions. And every ten minutes someone from Chad would come up looking like they'd just woken up on Christmas Day at age 12 and found a Super Nintendo under the tree because they had found a jersey that they had been eyeing the whole tournament. Lana appeared to be in some sort of commerce foaming-at-the-mouth mania in which I'd look over every five minutes and she'd have 2 new jerseys that she had traded up for. Somewhere in the melee she had traded away her white jersey THAT WE STILL NEEDED FOR TWO MORE DAYS OF PLAY. But what happens at Trade Night stays at Trade Night, and the post-stimulus buzz after heading out of the tent with the crunchy funky tunes of Sambalicious playing unheeded in the spirit lounge left us dazed, warm, and happy for the rest of the night.

After getting a pretty good look at most people's jersey trade scores, I'd say the top prizes go to (in no particular order):
1) Dave's Chilly Jersey from Jeff Su, former mentor of mine from Iowa State
2) Jon's black Colombia jersey with sweet red yellow and blue piping
3) Lana's Colombian (I think) jersey that says "Mucho Masculino" or some ridiculousness such as that
4) Anybody that got the white and Blue chequed German Woodies uni
5) All Osaka Natto gear (even though no one got their real jerseys)

Insert feel-good international diversity quote here: But the true prize of the night was that people stopped looking at peoples faces, and started staring at each other's chests and asses and wanting to take off the clothes that were covering them. It's a lesson that perhaps all the world should heed: nothing strips away cultural barriers and inhibitions like God's greatest gift: merchandizing.

Hopefully in the next few weeks I'll do what I was supposed to do DURING the tourney - break down a few of the more memorable moments of the trip and extract every altruistic drop I can out of them.

I am freekin cold and still have 7 hours of Northerly direction to go before I'm home. Gew.

Los Angelicious

2006-11-06T04:14:00.000-06:00

I'm sitting right now in Luke Voytas's dormish type room that he shares with his wife, and wonderful pool player Camille, after successfully hurtling small pumpkins of his roof, from which you could see the Hollywood sign.

I think I've gotten a pretty good cross section of LA even in the short time I've had here. A few events:

-Saw Candice Bergen at the airport
-Walked along the boardwalk on Venice Beach, saw a lot of tacky, a little good architecture, handball courts, Muscke Beaches, and Big Pussy(?) from the Sopranos.
-It was great hanging with my cousin Nick and his girlfriend Jen, Nick longboarding down to the beach, going to a few bars filled with beautiful stylish people, and eating lots of seafood.
-We attended an amazing bar tonight with Luke that looked like the beginning scene from a 70's kung fu movie, complete with dark red furniture, funk soundtrack, hanging lamps, and ornamental doorways. I kept thinking Bruce Lee was gonna walk through one doorway, while an afroed-and-sunglassed Kareem Abdul-Jabbar would walk through another.

We leave LA tomorrow night at 9PM for the Long Haul. Discussions of which drug combinations would be suitable for keeping us unconscious for most of the flight were bandied about today.

My thoughts on LA - Although I still believe I could never live here, I understand how people can. There are such diverse people, interests, lifestyles, and landscapes that I saw on merely a half-hour drive that anyone could find a niche. Albeit an expensive niche that wears a sundress and camo pants. I don't know what that means, but I like it.

I am very grateful that this trip will cut through so many varying levels of culture, geography, environment and population, as I will get to try to find the value in each permutation that I come across.

I think L&C found our MVP gifts for our opponents at worlds. To the Wacko House tomorrow.

Running further South

2006-10-22T01:14:00.000-05:00

Can I just pretend that I have been moving/in transition for this long and just got internet access back? You say no? You throw tomatoes? Now I'm seeing "D" batteries coming my way? Ouch, Gibbs, that one hit me in the adam's apple.

There are some things coming up, and I just want to say that this is the place to stay updated on the movements of the Red One in the next two months. I'm hoping to chronicle my preparation, transportation, and habitation of the South Pacific, all in real internet time and stuff. I'm hoping to not so much make it a note for note journal of all of the things I did, but to dig into detail a few events and thoughts that I consider to be thought provoking, inspiring, or bat-sh*t insane.

Currently, I am very concerned about available prep time I have with my current temp job, and so I might just show up in Perth with a toothbrush and half a croissanwich. But I'll play with what I got.

My new house is awesome, and my roommates are awesomer. It's a homestead, y'all.

More soon.

Hit and Run (South)

2006-09-01T01:58:00.000-05:00

After this post I'm pulling the plug on Compy for probably a week, as I'm moving to some sweet new digs a ways southeast in St. Paul - a very cute place that features not only correctly placed trees for hammocks, but a Secret Room and a Log Cabin Room as well. Housewarming party to ensue - be on ya feet, friends.

One element I've enjoyed about getting older is that I become more aware of and can effectively manipulate the environments that I find myself in, and get to choose the kinds of people I will be around for most hours of the day. Because of this, I (mostly) no longer have to endure through situations when vanity, ignorance, racism, mysogyny, homophobia, Calvin peeing on unfavored brands, and ripping hood ornaments off cars are considered decent to excellent elements of a great time.

But by insulating myself with people that value kindness, intelligent humor, art, honesty and Carrots With Hummus, am I just turning my back on a large portion of the world that I want nothing to do with, and in turn being as close-minded as the people that I removed myself from? I learn valuable lessons both from people whom I agree with and with people whom I don't; the latter being the less pleasurable of the two. So perhaps I am missing out on most potential learning experiences (because I must admit that the group of people I enjoy being with is much smaller than the group I don't) just because I don't want to feel awkward, embarrassed, challenged, inappropriate, or left out. That sounds like a wussy cop-out. I don't like it.

There is much more to say on this slippery soapbox, but I need said soapbox to pack my Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit 90's Edition in, so off I stumble.

I think it's time I paid a visit back to ZenZero for some Pad Thai.......

Direction

2006-08-25T03:43:00.000-05:00

Another memory coming back vividly right now:

One of my earliest memories (I couldn't have been more than 4) was when my dad taught me about the cardinal directions, you know, the good ol' North, South, East and West. I had been playing around with an old orienteering compass that was around my house, and one Saturday dad asked me "Do you want to learn how to use that? Let's take a walk!" I remember saying yes vehemently, but quickly realizing that it would take a process of public trial and error that I was petrified of. I was a shy kid, and very scared of being embarrassed in front of strangers.

Before I could object, I was hoisted up on dad's shoulders, told to duck, and we were out the front door down Morningside Ave on a warm Saturday morning. Dad told me to hold the compass flat and turn the plastic ring until the "N" matched up to where the needle was pointing. Easy enough . He asked me which letter was pointing in the direction we were walking. "East!" I shouted - I already knew what E stood for, and wanted to let Dad know that I was holding my own, especially as there were many passers-by giving us a few curious looks. "Good!" he replied. "Now the tough part, we're gonna take a turn." I wasn't ready for the left turn, and didn't turn the compass in the right direction. This time, when he asked what direction we were going, I responded more sheepishly, "South?""Uh, let's see how you turned the compass" dad gently rebutted.

But it offered me no solace, I knew I'd screwed up, and immediately I hated this adventure and wanted to get back to Garfield and Friends. I started crying, and Dad had to wait it out until he gave this reassurance: "Shawnyboy, that was an easy mistake, and I bet if we go around the block one more time, you'll get it right at every turn. And don't worry about messing up, I still get confused with that thing sometimes. Let's try again!" I slowly gathered myself to try again. Of course, 4 more turns around the block, and the 4 directions were etched into my mind forever, and a couple turns in the opposite direction showed me that no matter where I was, however far I went, those directions would always be the same.

More importantly though, Dad taught methat morning that making a mistake wasn't something to be ashamed of, but something that can be just as valuable as being right, and the fear of making that mistake should never stop me from learning something new. Sounds like a pretty obvious lesson now, but for a 4 year old, it was a breakthrough. It is applicable to situations in my life 21 years later. It was one of 20,000 doors that my father has led me through. It is intimidating to think that I might, someday, be the one to lead someone else through those 20,000 doors, and in totally different ways and environments than I encountered them. But just like on that Saturday in Morningside, I can't be afraid to make mistakes, as long as I go around the block enough times to get it right.

Why do I feel like Dad has never taken me down off his shoulders?

Do You Realize?

2006-08-25T00:45:00.000-05:00

Just got home from a ridiculous show, The Flaming Lips at the Minnesota State Fair. Things were looking dodgy for a while, with a whole assload of thunderstorms and tornadoes in the area during the early evening, but my assumption, that the Flaming Lips are in fact more powerful than the weather, held to the end.

Sonic Youth opened up, and really didn't grab my attention all that much. I've never been into Sonic Youth, but it's those "seminal" bands that all of your indie friends tell you to get into. Sure enough, when they started, I thought to myself "that sounds like every indie band in the mid to late nineties," (not that this is a bad thing, I'm sure their sound has been ripped off time and time again) and I'm sure some Gen Xers were in hog heaven.

But as I became distracted whilst dousing my day-old cell phone with beer, and it becoming non-functional for 1/2 an hour, Sonic Youth wrapped up, and the Lips quickly began their convoluted setup. One of the first people up on stage, helping out and moving scaffolding and mic stands, was none other than Wayne Coyne, the lead singer, himself. I think this is the first time, during a show with more than 1,000 people at it, that I've seen the band members help the crew set up the stage. It's just one of the many things that make the mentality of the Flaming Lips different than most any other band I've seen.

After a pretty lengthy battle between the wind & a feisty video screen, things got kicked off with Race For the Prize, and the confetti was flying, Wayne was shooting a streamer gun throughout the whole show, folks in Santa suits on the right, girls with skimpy space suits and green alien head masks on the left, and I was a bit overwhelmed. I don't know of many that left the show tonight thinking that there was something lacking in the performance- the Lips know how to make you remember them.

As I was bombarded with the explosions, colors, sounds and other random aesthetic intensity around me, I focused my view a little bit more on what Wayne was saying in the lyrics to focus my attention. The Lips have never been known for their clever word plays or rhyming schemes, but moreso focus on general truths that have a bit more anthemic qualities to them, and lead you in a giant crowd to quite a bit of fist pumping.

I don't know where the sunbeams end and the starlights begin; it's all a mystery - Realize the sun doesn't go down; it's just an illusion caused by the world turning 'round - Time after time those fanatical minds try to rule all the world - etc.

And a new song whose lyrics were placed up on the big screen that really caught my attention-

They tell us "Autumn's a comin' and soon everything around us will die Only a fool believes that he is different from the birds in the sky
All those birds go chasin' some better sunny days
You can't hear them singing 'cause they've all gone away"
But this one bird didn't leave you
It stayed through the wintertime
You can't hear it sing but you can hear it as it flies
So don't you believe them?
They'll destroy you with their lies
They only see the obvious
They see the sun go down but they don't see it rise

And I think this hit upon the crux of what I enjoy about the Flaming Lips' message. They fully, and bluntly, acknowledge our mortality as humans up front, and reiterate that it is our cowering fear of that mortality, and any sort of loss in our lives, that keeps us from doing things that we want to (in their case, like wearing giant rubber hands, crawling around in a clear plastic bubble, and shooting confetti). People get so caught up in the comfort of their surroundings that they are scared to death of any change that may result in the loss of the things that gave them comfort. What is harder to see is that letting go of those things that we've regarded as so dear allows us to explore and find new, perhaps more suitable surroundings for our ever-changing state of mind.

These lessons - as I find myself on the verge of letting go of a lot of what I have considered to be emotional, mental, and financial strongholds to take an extended time Away and consider all aspects of my future - could not have come at a more poignant time. There are deep rumblings that I haven't felt in a while, and Wayne keeps telling me that I should be more excited than scared about them. I think I'm gonna hold on to those scraps of streamer I grabbed tonight to remind me.

And now to adhere to yet another profound hunk of wisdom from the Fearless Freaks:
"You gotta sleep late when you can."

The Beauty of The Bulleted List

2006-08-07T22:55:00.000-05:00

In my experience, the best way to hash out incomplete thoughts is a bulleted list. You can prioritize, subdivide, permutate and simplify to the point that you've forgotten you're writing actual words until it begins to spill out like stars on a Talladega Night.

Ahem.... on the last week of my life:

-When in DingWop: rode with some Woppers to Detroit for MoTown Throwdown, and after the driver and captain of the team refusing to drive 25 more minutes to the hotel room, decided to park at a construction site and sleep on the top of the berm for the two hours we had before having to get up to play. Woke up to the construction workers slamming their truck doors for work in the morning, sweat soaking my sleeping bag. After the tournament, I had to navigate my way through a plea to stay in Chicago for Sunday night (having work at 8:30 AM Monday), eating at a German KrautHaus that added an hour to the ETA, and surviving the surreality of St. Joseph, MI (dude w/ spray paint all over body at gas station, scariest toilet ever). Wanting to curl up and die on Monday. Still debating whether I have what it takes to be a Dinger.

-Monday - Signed lease for new house in St. Paul, went to the Rentals at First Ave. - a seminal band for me as a senior in high school - I believe that Matt Sharp, the lead singer for the Rentals, took all of the personality that Weezer had with him when he left. Appreciated his gratefulness for the fans to come out when they have had no new material for 6 years... I wasn't complaining, all the old hits that I was scared to sing in the football locker room came out one by one.

-Tuesday - Saw Ween at State Theatre. They're OLD! But sound great- highlights were Dr. Rock, Mutilated Lips, Someday, The Mollusk. Brendan wanted more old stuff, but I don't think their bodies or current probationary contracts allow them to do many of those anymore. Would have loved me some ReggaeJunkieJew though.

-Wednesday - Sprint workout with Rob, Olarz & RShel that nearly does me in - I know it's rough when I get that "buzzing" feeling in my teeth and face. Early heart attack warnings?

-Thursday - TC Ultimate League playoffs begin out in the boonies of Maple Grove - we take on Solarz's team, come out with a victory!! Finally, people on the team are finding their roles, other folks are learning to put the disc, and our Zone is forcing turns. And we still win Best Bar Squad! Next up is Bjorn's Black Beauties, at team we played to hardcap and lost 17-16 during the season. Oh Bjorn, behind that beautiful smile of yours is a heart as black as your Gaia Quick-Dry.

-Friday - Solarz apparently spends most of our trip to Madison preparing jokes about my slightly-above-average use of text messaging. I don't know if I can ever send one again. The wounds run deep, m'lady. C U this wk 4 tossing? GTG BRB LOL.

-Saturday - Paul Norgaard acts like Paul Norgaard and almost gets beat up, and by beat up I mean getting a juice box thrown at him and being given the "Dirty Shoulder" by some Madison dude. A highly entertaining end to the day, whose encore of Ricky Bobby trumped all. CLX 2006 will be forever marred by Talladega Nights quotes that are strung out way too long. THAT JUST HAPPENED. And let us not forget that his 2 sons are named Walker & Texas Ranger (TR for short).

-Sunday - Just because it's raining does not protect a Shawn from the evil celestial orb. Starfox is a pretty cool dog, especially when he freaks out at the mere mention of Flaming Moe. Saying that, it is really hard to hate Moe as much as I used to when they have such nice people on their team (see the Bjorn oggle above). Driving home, see four 20-something guys broken down on the highway, 4 camp chairs in a row, drinking beer and smoking cigarettes, waiting for something to happen. That is gonna be another great road trip story they'll get to tell their kids about.

-Life is full, and I know if I pause to blink it will be November and it will be too late to buy a plug-in Australian outlet adapter for my nosehair trimmer.

-A weekend at home with old friends could not be a more welcome sight on the horizon. Prepare for the Dragon, southlanders.

El Diablo, the Mexican Fighting Chicken

college football rap sheet

2006-07-27T13:18:00.000-05:00

Here are 5 of the 9 headlines posted today at ESPN's College Football Page:

Clarett fires attorneys two weeks before trial begins
Accused Nebraska recruit allowed to join team
Ex-Central Mich. player begins serving jail time early
Jury: No punishment for ex-Navy QB acquitted of rape
Miami safety Cooper shot, teammate returns fire

Whoa Nelly, indeed. This could be a symptom of journalists having not much to do in the preseason but dig up dirt, players getting their legal affairs and, um, civil disagreements out before the season starts, but no matter what it is, I'm a little disenchanted (before the season even begins) with the collegiates. Can't we just play some ball? And I won't even mention the fact that there are two teams involved in that list that I vehemently despise (in that armchair quarterback kinda way). Can you guess which ones?

This weekend: Detroit WHAT? MoTown Throwdown. Small Packages (the Open version of CLX) puts up their dukes. Should be fun. Might be some other things too.

Why didn't anyone tell me?

2006-07-26T08:47:00.000-05:00

Lately I've been having a musical reawakening - I get them from time to time - and they come from all different angles and sources, but are always welcome. This one is springing from a yearning to hash over albums from the recent and further past that I may have overlooked mostly because of Phish, Weezer, and living in a town whose radio focused mainly on Mariah Carey and Def Leppard.

Some albums that have bubbled up from the depths:

A Tribe Called Quest - The Low End Theory
Q-Tip and Phife's masterpiece. Just try to not move when the first backbeat to "Excursions" kicks in. As this was released in 1991, you start to realize how many other artists (Arrested Development, De La Soul, Beastie Boys) were feeling this same vibe at the time - jazz samples, stripped down backbeats, splicing in black beat poets, etc. But I just don't think there is anyone in the world that is cooler than Q-Tip, The Abstract. My favorite is how he flaunts his new technology, the skypager, so hard that I want to get one RIGHT NOW. "Do you know the importance of a SkyPaJUH?" - 1991's "Where you at?"

Neutral Milk Hotel - In The Aeroplane Over The Sea

I am really angry that no one told me about this album before Brendan did a couple weeks ago. Loosely based on the story of Anne Frank, this 1998 album has a mixture of energy, sorrow, surrealism and simply masterful songwriting that stops me in my tracks. Could easily be the top discovered album of the year for me.

Queen - Greatest Hits I & II (First Disc)

Again, no idea how I haven't gotten in to this 1995 released album until now. Of course, all the top hits are great, but tracks like Killer Queen, Bicycle Race, Play The Game, and Don't Stop Me Now show how amazing their songwriting and composition skills were- literally decades ahead of their time. FIst pumping during this album is at an all time high. I have just been informed that Freddie Mercury's performance at Live Aid in 1985 could develop an entire new religion. Has anyone ever been so ugly yet so attractive at the same time?

Devendra Banhardt - Nino Rojo

Props to Seth Barteldahl for this tip. Although this is a 2004 release, I had heard little of this artist until about 2 months ago. Although it takes a few listens to get used to Devendra's bleating, his unique, sometimes playful and sometimes woeful stories in a lo-fi acoustic setting have me envisioning myself sitting on a porch, on a farm, that all of my weirdest and most creative friends have rented out for the summer, and we all brought our guitars, are sipping on ginger beer, and writing songs about the animals and plants we see around us. Does anybody want to actually do this? I'm down.

Life brainwashed in the speechless consulting firm

2006-07-04T23:57:00.000-05:00

4 days ago, I got off from my newly presented work space and headed home for a long weekend. Although excited, I was pretty drained from the first 2 full weeks of 40 hours designing Buffalo Wild Wings canopies and Best Buy add ons. My office, to say the least, is a quiet one, and can leave one at a loss for how to start any sort of conversation that would smoothly break the silent status quo ice.

As I began talking to my roommate, friends, family, and teammates as the weekend began, I realized I was having trouble not only starting convos, but also maintaining a conversation beyond a minute, and replying with engaging, witty, or even coherent responses. I was a tad alarmed at this new attitude was emerging, and seriously wondering if I could ever make myself sound interesting again in my newly stilted vocabulary and dialogue repertoire.

It turned out that the best remedy for such maladies involves a trip Southwest, to the banks of the Muddy MO, The Siouxer. In immersing myself in family and friends, all with very normal, enthusiastic and supportive communication skills several levels above most at my office, for 3 full days, I came to find quickly my old tricks of the the Chat, and proceeded to have very fulfilling, stimulating exchanges with countless people, all familiar to me.

And tonight, as I returned to the Land of 10K, I made plans to head over to my friends girlfriend's porch for a little Pyro-voyeurism, fully knowing that there would be few that I knew at the gig. Upon arriving, past the always-awkward 2 minutes of situating, inroducing, and opening my beer, I felt perfectly happy and comfortable sitting with a bunch of laid back people. I found myself starting to act and respond in that effortless way that I did with my family and close friends all weekend, and I think the only reason I was able to do so was because of my 3-day primer beforehand. I realized that if I can continue to talk to people in this casual, warm, lighthearted way, in the same way that I treat my family (given the right people in the situation) that any defiency caused by a job perhaps better left for really smart robots could be overcome by the one true power in the world: my kin.
It was one of the most pleasing revelations I'd had in months....... like way back to when I found you could replace a 2-liter pop bottle cap with a Jack Daniels bottle cap. THEY'RE THE SAME SIZE!!!!!!!

G'night from the land of Freedom Playas who Hate Freedom Hatas

Long Lost Top Ten

2006-05-29T20:47:00.000-05:00

So this is way late in coming, but was doing a little cleaning tonight and stumbled upon this little gem of a scrap of paper in a deep pile- brings back rich memories of pizza delivery cruises, hot summer concerts, and ulty road trips. Twas a good year - open a bottle of '04 with one of these as your soundtrack:

(in no particular order)
Iron and Wine - Our Endless Numbered Days
The Shins - Chutes Too Narrow
The Rolling Stones - Exile On Main St.
Beastie Boys - To The 5 Boroughs
Wilco - A Ghost Is Born
Chris Thile - Deceiver
Modest Mouse - Good News For People Who Love Bad News
Need New Body - UFO
Kimya Dawson - My Cute Fiend Sweet Princess
Antibalas - Who Is This America?
Ben Kweller - On My Way
Christopher O'Riley - True Love Waits
Ben Folds - 3 EPs

Am quite proud to say that I still listen to all of these albums regularly - thankfully there are no flashes in the pan that make me blush. Okay, so I need to be in a certain mood for Need New Body; but it's there when I need it.

The first step is admitting your problem

2006-05-23T10:20:00.000-05:00

In the past week, a few things have happened (amongst many, many THINGS) that have made me take a step back and sort of contemplate my situation, especially in regards to my schedule, and how Ultimate is, in a way, pushing a lot of other important parts of my life aside. It's leaving me feeling a little uncomfortable, and questioning the level of my involvement in (addiction to?) the sport.

The first wake-up call was last week on Thursday, my sister Erin's birthday. It was a normal work day, but I called her after work to see if she wanted to hang out or go for a drink. I told her I'd call her after I got back from playing disc golf with some Ultimate buddies. Well, I forgot my phone when heading out to the course, and then after 18 holes, Rouda's violently ravenous metabolism had him eating his own stomach in hunger, so we headed to the Green Mill for happy hour 1/2 price appetizers. I knew this would push back my meeting with Erin, and I didn't have her number to call with someone else's phone. We get to talking, RSD & other Ultimate gossip (the rumor mill flies crazily around this time as club team's rosters are being set) and before I know it, it's 10:15. I knew I was in trouble. Got home, called Erin, no answer. I was in deep trouble. I could point fingers, but it was my negligence and strange compulsion towards talkling Ultimate that made me DITCH MY SISTER ON HER BIRTHDAY. This is after Erin, for MY birthday, not only comes over to Minneapolis late notice for a drink with me at the Chatterbox, but during the day sneaks into my house and decks out the whole place with banners, streamers, balloons, cards and cookies. I felt like a rolling shitball.

The second flag went up last night, when the ever-thoughtful R Combs gave me a call. In wrapping up a long chat in which I could have remembered her thoughtfulness, SHE asked if I had gotten her post card from Vegas, touting the one thing I think my gamble-phobic dork engineering self would like about Vegas, the Hoover Dam (4.36 million cubic yards of sexy ass concrete). Although absolutely thrilled to receive the postcard, I got it in the mail on a day when I was running out the door for practice with South HS whom I coach, and although delighted by the card, had to shift my focus to thinking about running drills and conditioning workouts. After Rachel gave me some very justifiable shit for forgetting to thank her, I went through my piles of piles stacking up in my increasingly neglected apartment, and found the card pathetically wedged between UPA roster forms on my coffee table.

Something's not right about this picture.

When I am letting down two very caring individuals close to me, especially after they're going out of their way to make me smile, and the opportunity arises to even acknowledge their kindness, I'm coming up short. And this is just the past week. There are unreturned phone calls, half-baked dinner date plans, emails awaiting replies, headlights needing replacements, unwatered plants..... and the reason? Ultimate.

And while Ultimate is likely not going to destroy my liver or give me lung cancer (skin cancer? possibly), it is affecting other parts of my life that I don't want it to affect. While yes, I will still be playing this year, I am going to be monitoring my time and energy put in to the sport, and will have to make some hard decisions in trying to back off my commitments. A big problem is that I'm planning pretty much the largest chunk of time and energy possible to Ultimate, as I'm planning a trip to Australia in November, and that event is basically a culmination of everything I have dreamed could be possible in being involved with the sport. Next year? A very toned down season. What that entails, I'm not sure. All I know is, I need me some backpacking/Wakarusa/Austin City Limits festival/illin at the Walding ranch/being able to relate to non-ultimate conversations.

What does one sacrifice to make their dreams come true? (cue Bruce Hornsby - The Way It Is, and for some reason I'm driving a convertible across a really long bridge, as the camera pans out. I am also really good looking in this scene.)

2006-05-11T13:50:00.000-05:00

All apologies to R Combs, as this mutated from an email to her into public use form:

Perhaps I am busier, but not so much as to not appreciate horribly gross commercials. Do you remember that one a few years back when the guy was diving onto his bed, and he froze in mid air, then they asked "do you know what's on your bed?" and then it turned in to this bubbling mass of light brown muddy poo looking stuff. I mean, I know that sometimes matresses get dirty, but do we have to take it that far? Also, I don't even remember the specific product they were selling, as I was too horrified by the commercial, and so the ad didn't even do its job. Coming in a close second are all foot fungus banner ads on my Hotmail account. C'mon folks, I like to eat my lunch sometimes as I'm checking mail....

I am a bit sore from a tough Ultimate tryout practice (for a team that I won't be playing for) yesterday, but I accidentally slept in, and I might have gotten 8 hours of sleep. A first.

Tonights agenda is: South High Squall (my HS ultimate team I coach) vs. Armstrong, buying a new outfit for a wedding in St Louis this weekend, and finishing a playlist for the couple's wedding dance, as they asked me to be both the DJ and the MC. Can you be both the DJ and the MC? I thought those were two entirely separate and reciprocal roles. Oh well, if both still have access to the open bar, I shall bear this cross.

Can somebody tell me how to automatically make titles for my posts?

2006-03-14T00:32:00.000-06:00

Jimmy & Billy : Waylon & Montgomery

This started as a comment to Mr BenJammin's recent outburst, but once I started rollin, the rant Calvary showed up.

I heartily agree that Billy Packer and Jim Nantz are the worst thing to happen to college basketball (and thus, my winter months'life) in a long while. Just listen to them pat 1) themselves, 2) the ACC 3) themselves again on the back and revel in their own temper-tantrum ranting. Is Jim Nantz the only person that agrees with Billy Packer's bullshit? My favorite was during the Big Ten semis and finals, having to endure these two "calling" these games, when in actuality they are merely 3 two-hour opportunities for the duo to stroke each other's egos and obsessively gush over every permutation of how Duke and North Carolina might meet in the Final Four in between pot-shots of how BORING Big Ten basketball is because the teams have somehow come up with a way to play effective defense against each other. It is insulting to the Big Ten, embarrassing for CBS, and trouble for my blood pressure. Especially when the Hawks are in the Finals (sorry, Ben, I've got my loyalties). Somebody call up Gus Johnson, that guy could make poop on a stick exciting to watch.

Nantz, Packer's partner in lunacy, inexplicably began challenging the computer RPI ranking logic all weekend, and this is based on what, Jim? Your gut feeling? The last second shot you saw Laettner hit 14 years ago? He kept saying "this year, the results are just so strange..." So now we are to believe there is an RPI conspiracy going on that lets smaller market teams like Wichita State and Northern Iowa in, instead of Florida State and Michigan? What archaic world are these two living in? At least on ESPN they have realized the frailty of the Big Conference illusion, and they have more than just two voices chiming in on their opinions.

The quicker CBS rids itself of the Burns-Smithers tandem of Packer and Nantz (in regards to basketball- Nantz can be tolerable on the links on a lazy summer afternoon), the quicker the NCAA and CBS can move forward to make a much more enjoyable Final Four coverage. Seriously, does anybody still think these two deserve to cover the 3 biggest games of the year? Once again, I bet Gus Johnson and Quinn Buckner aren't doing anything.

Secondly, I disagree with Ben's comment that he hates topsy-turvy brackets like this. I love 'em. I love watching the team that nobody thought should make the tournament win one, two games and shut everybody the fuck up, because all bets are off in this dance. It's the greatest sporting spectacle in the world, cuz NOBODY knows what's gonna happen. As a well-known Ultimate fanatic always says - battle.

Way to ruffle my fur, Combs.

2006-02-10T13:52:00.000-06:00

Here's a couple of accounts of last weekend's debut and subsequent triumph of Small Packages 2006, winning the Minneapolis Indoor Tourney over the Open boys of SubZero:

From a winner
From a loser

From a spectator: I lost my keys in the refuse and burrotes of the Pineda Resturant establishment.

2006-02-02T17:05:00.000-06:00

Some of you may have heard the tale, some not - thought I'd let you guys know:
I was casually walking to lunch on Tuesday when I noticed that I was being hit by a car in the middle of an intersection - something was clearly amiss. After I landed, I immediately stood up trying to convince everyone around that I was okay a la this onion article: http://www.theonion.com/content/node/43954

However, it was quickly determined that there was little to no lateral stability in my left knee, as it wobbled like a noodle. I looked, in a daze, to the man who had hit me, and asked, should we call the cops? And he replied, "actually, I am 'the cops'" as he pulled his jacket aside to reveal his badge. Yes, I was hit by a cop in an intersection. There is much of this story to tell, including recieving a free lunch, getting yelled at for not needing an ambulance, an ER doctor who put my knee brace on inside out, and more.

But the long and short of it is that I have a sprained (not torn, no surgery) MCL, and I'll likely be sidelined for at least 4 weeks, so I will not be able to play with the venerable Business Casual Backhand for a little while. I'll certainly be there at the games, yelling and heckling, plotting my revenge on the City of Minneapolis, just not playing. And perhaps taking a ride or two on the Vicodin-Scotch roller coaster.

A few non-physical effects this has had on me:
-Have gone on an organizational frenzy to try get my "affairs" back in order. Man, "affairs" suck. Yeah, both kinds.

-The hoped-for creative boom was not to be. Have barely touched the guitar, written only sparingly. Can I call out some post-traumatic stress disorder and get away with it?

-Quite a bit of ice cream being consumed.

All in all, not really the rebirth/epiphany/revelation you see in movies, books post-accident. Then again, all I did was hurt my knee, no tubes, no respirator, no life-before-my-eyes. I have to say that would be a pretty fun 2 seconds.

Playing tonight with the boys, perhaps it will knock loose a little more right brain activity than the Green Ford Taurus did.

2005-12-30T16:40:00.000-06:00

Quickly, but more elaborately later, my much-scrutinized Top Ten Discovered Albums List from 2005 (in no particular order(yet)):

Brian Wilson - Smile
Sufjan Stevens - Illinois
Talking Heads - Remain In Light
Common - Be
Ted Leo & The Pharmacists - Shake The Sheets
Of Montreal - The Sunlandic Twins
Regina Spektor - Soviet Kitsch
Foghorn Stringband - Reap What You Sow
New Pornographers - Twin Cinema
Machine Go Boom - Mikey Machine

Ruminate, discuss. Make your own top ten list. I'll post a link.

More next week.

2005-12-02T12:01:00.000-06:00

4 months, and what have I learned? Potato Bites from Arby's are not part of a healthy diet.

2005-04-19T12:31:00.000-05:00

Here's what's going on in the world on my birthday - April 19, 2005:

-Las Vegas will honor P. DIDDY by naming April 15th "Diddy Day."
-LIMP BIZKIT frontman FRED DURST will make his television acting debut on the NBC miniseries Revelations as a devil-worshipper trying to thwart the do-gooder played by Bill Pullman.
-COLDPLAY have made a thirty-second clip of "Speed of Sound," the first track off their upcoming X&Y album, available as a ringtone. The offer is part of a new Cingular Wireless program designed to debut singles as ringtones
-LIL JON has signed a deal with BlingTones, the wireless service that produces and distributes original music for cell phones. Other artists on the wireless label include Q-TIP, ROCKWILDER and DOUG E. FRESH . . .
-Rapper/actor MOS DEF has canceled his tour in support of 2004's New Danger due to a scheduling conflict involving a movie contract . . .
-Seattle police have launched an investigation to determine how a patient undergoing emergency heart surgery caught on fire at a local hospital in 2003.
The male patient, who was not identified, went up in flames after alcohol poured on his skin was ignited by a surgical instrument.
-Pope Benedict XVI Begins his reign of terror - delightful terror!

-Shawn Timothy Walding turns 24, takes nap.

2004-11-11T13:56:00.000-06:00

Today at work, we could sign up for a Concrete seminar, a gun raffle, and a beef raffle. Yes, I still think it's a good job. Just hilarious at times.

2004-11-08T22:52:00.000-06:00

Have to get this one out there to the kids.

Yesternight, headed out briefly into the cold Minneapolis air to retrieve my CD case from the car for the preparation of Ween: The Mixness Vol. 1. As it always is in my neighborhood, you're throwin the dice heading out the front door of my duplex. Sometimes you get the crazy girl with ratted out hair following you alarmingly close to your car, sometimes you get the angry 6-year-old kid with the large kitchen knife walking intently down the street, sometimes you get the drunk neighbor asking you to find guitar lessons for his daughter because he saw you once with a guitar case.

And tonight, no different- an odd looking bespectacled man was riding slowly down West 33rd as I was headed to the car, when I hear him exclaim "Oh, my goodness." Was that at me? Does he think I'm cute? Does he want money? The worst of thoughts easily form in my head, and I keep my eyes forward, hoping to look "mean" and "determined."

"Oh my. Excuse me, sir?" he asks surprisingly clearly. Still, I give the mandatory 2 second pause as if to say -only as a last possible resort I am responding to you, so make it quick.
"yep?"
"Sorry to bother you, but have you ever seen the Northern Lights?"
A little unorthodox way of asking for money or sex, but I remain guarded. "Uh, no, actually I haven't."
"Well there you go," and points toward downtown.

I look up, and see an amazing, spooky green, constantly morphing pattern of wavy light, which, had I just been glancing, might have mistaken for dull city glow. Sure enough, the real Northern Lights deal, and pretty much more impressive than I'd ever pictured them in my head. Shafts of the light reached high into the atmosphere, fading in and out in a hypnotic pattern. Blood pressure falls, brain chatter quiets, pupils dialate, paradigms shift inside of me.

The small, now quite unintimidating man follows up with "I don't know, I always get worked up about small stuff like that. Well, have a good night." And with that, he's off on his bike, pedaling down 33rd, fading into the night and out of my life.

All I could tell him before he left was "trust, me this is not small stuff." With the week of letdown I'd been having, it was so startling to have good fortune, in any amount, come my way. I kind of wanted to hang out with the guy, talk to him, hear some stories he's had, anything from such a source of goodwill and kindness - but I didn't know how to keep him standing there, so I just had to watch him pedal off.

After he left, I got in my car, waited till the dashboard lights to fade, and watched for the next fifteen minutes the warping light just above the rooflines, and forgot a lot of the things that had been weighing me down the past few days. Just a trivial, random encounter which I was initially dreading, was all it took to make last Sunday a memorable day. I am sure that I will never totally be ready when the most important events in my life come to pass - so I guess I'll keep running with my mouth open until the correct fly pops in.
************************************************************
A Wagon of Pamcakes in the Champeenship? I'd like to see it!

2004-11-03T23:08:00.000-06:00

Nothing feels better than doing something your own way, and succeeding at it on a large scale. Thanks for the best Ultimate season ever, CLX.

2004-10-20T23:29:00.000-05:00

As I watched the BoSox make unbelieveable history tonight, one thing stuck in my head above everything else. When asked how they'll do in the Series, the Sox's manager Francona said "I have no worries at all, because you know what? These guys love playing the game of baseball, night after night."

That is exactly the mentality that our team has to take going in to Sarasota next week - we will go and play hard because there is nothing we love doing more than playing hard Ultimate, weekend after weekend. I'm sure most of us, barring injuries and important lives, will be playing Ultimate for a long time, and the motivation to play won't always come from getting a trip to nationals - it will be because we love stepping out on the grass and playing a great point. Our team is full of individuals that have very deep, diverse, and interesting characteristics, but the one common thread is that when we step out on to the field, we are all home, and amongst friends - it's like Christmas Eve every game - where else would you want to be but with your family?

For me, there is no greater motivation than that. Doesn't matter who we're playing, or what studs they have on their team, I will go out, piss around with my teammates, look across the field to my opponent, toe the line, and play every point as hard and as smart as I can. And I have the genuine trust that my teammates are doing the exact same thing. So bring on any damn team you want- if we are playing with our heads, and having the time of our lives doing it, and Saienga's throwin out the Jimmy Leg somewhere, I don't know who can stop us.

8 days.

2004-09-29T01:00:00.000-05:00

Slowly and steadily, the complexity and significance of the decisions I have made in my life swell to a critical mass that is not easily reckoned with. Just when I think I'm a simple guy that designs window frames and throws a disc around, I realize that I am a living, breathing, creating, feeling creature whose beliefs, experiences, mistakes, fears, desires and compulsions are far too powerful and massive to handle by any one rational person on their own. My only consolation is that every single face I see on the sidewalk has to (but also gets to) deal with this very same humbling notion at some point as well.

We should all probably get some coffee and talk about this.

2004-08-24T12:50:00.000-05:00

Look for the phrase "buttmunch" to be coming back into context at your nearest conversation with me. The time has come.

2004-08-13T13:58:00.000-05:00

Is the Luna Bar our society's answer to Hunt's Brand Manwich? Will I ever finish arranging my room? Will my calf ever stop cramping up during exercise? Did we elect a president that consistently says "nucular" when the word is "nuclear"? Is anyone listening?

2004-06-29T02:14:00.000-05:00

A day of things weirdly, uncharacteristically falling into place. Suzie finds Tony's phone in her car (as I apologize to Tony, telling him I'm an idiot for leaving behind, he calmly and justly replies with, "yes, Shawn, yes you are.") and says she'll pay to FedEx it back home.

Jon calls and says he can work for me on Friday so I can prepare and depart for upcoming adventures west. Someone offers to work for me? Leave it to those North Store champs.

I find my Homestar Runner sweatshirt that I was sure I had lost forever in the South Lab at Town Engineering. Ride, that's the one I DIDN'T check last week.

Paula calls and leaves a message saying "call me ASAP" and my heart drops thinking my temporary residence is going down in flames, when up from the ashes, I call her up and instead she offers permanent residence as her roommate is leaving shortly. This means I don't really even have to break a sweat finding a new place in Minneapolis. And this occurred right after I found that the person I thought I'd be living with (that gave me a 98% chance of her moving to the TC in August 2 weeks ago) wavered on her decision. Oh yeah, uh, I got a job in the Twin Cities. Moving up there in about 2 1/2 weeks.

What have we learned from all of this, kids? There are some days when your friends can hurt your feelings, steal your DVD's, scratch your car, and tell you that you suck at card AND video games, but then there are other days when they take time out of their own agendas and not only think of you, but think about something kind they can do for you, and not only that, but then they do it. That's fair dinkum mates.

But Ride's thinking "wait a minute, what does friends have to do with the Homestar Sweatshirt?" Well played, Ride. I guess nothing, really. In fact, a certain friend I've mentioned in this post has ridiculed me for wearing said garment. But what that does teach us is......... always check under the plastic tarp...when you've lost something.... in a structural....engineering lab. Apply that both literally and symbolically for greatest effect.

**********************************************************

One incident that shall not be quickly forgotten-
Scene: In a gas station in southern Wisconsin after a long pre-dawn of driving and riding for the Phish caravan.
Subjects: one Jon "Juan Carlos" Staron, with a fresh batch of kids waiting to be dropped off at the pool; Anthony "Dunkin" Brunkan, apparently after dropping off several of his marbles on the way to the candy rack.
Dialogue: Tony (upon seeing Jon intently heading for the crapper): Looks like it's time for your 8PM-BM, huh Jon?
Jon: Uh, I get the BM part, but nothing else.
Tony (looking at his watch for several seconds): Oh, I guess it's 6:30, not 8. (Looks at watch again) ....And it's AM, not PM. Ummm..... I guess I don't know why I said any of that.

I wasn't even a witness to this event, but upon hearing about it, I don't believe I stopped hysterically giggling for ten minutes. Something about how intent he was on trying to make the joke work when it obviously couldn't given the setting, mixed with the fact it was a poo joke and I hadn't slept more than an hour in the last 24 made it comedic gold. Let me know if its lustre is lost in the textual form.

I have paid my debt to the Papa in full. I can now walk the streets in peace. Thanks for all the memories, you crazy national dining franchise.

2004-06-02T02:20:00.000-05:00

Every single time I go to the grocery store and check out, I begin extracting items from my cart/satchel/basket using only one hand. At some point during this process, I always realize that this method is in fact only half of my full grocery item extracting ability, and finish the job off ambidextrously.

Every single time.

2004-05-30T03:08:00.000-05:00

While I've got some sauce in me I feel it's time to update. The last thing I heard about this website was that it sucked, and that was coming from my own roommate, so I can only imagine how the rest of you feel about me out there. What's going on? Oh I don't know- nothing , but plenty at the same time. I feel like there could be some breakthroughs of "stuff" happening, but it's just intuition, and if there's one thing I've learned throughout my years of taking multiple choice exams, it's to not trust your intuition.

I used to be a pro at sending out emails with bulletins instead of complete sentences, and maybe that's how I'll get back in the game here with this journal. SO, here are some recent events that have been happening:

-Technology breakthroughs to acquire more free music for my insatiable appetite (when is enough enough?)

-Diagnosed bi-polar coworker Adam quit the 'za dolin' trade on tuesday because people parked too close to the back door of Papa John's. I got his olive polo shirt. Rock.

-Tony and I felt way too old at the bars tonight, even when we tried to pretend to make out in the "love seat" at the Lost and Found Lounge. WE DIDN"T REALLY MAKE OUT, OKAY?

-Life is tumbling by at a very alarming rate and there's nothing I have done or can do that can stop it. It's really great to have somebody like Tony around that's just as big a loser as me that I can relate to and is still in my same employment, educational, and financial status as me.

-Surprisingly, Phish's announcement to break up has not had that big of an effect on me, and this is probably a big indicator that I had really subconsciously pushed them a little back in my head as to where they had been before- I know if this announcement had come pre 2001 there would be days to weeks of mourning. But we got tickets to the Alpine Valley shows, and it looks like we're staying at Bong State, so I can't imagine a better finale to the Shawn/Phish love entanglement.

-Got two vinyl records today at the Boone Goodwill: 1) Bill Cosby Sings (?!), 2) The Pac Man Christmas Album
But the one that got away I will never forget- a small girl was parading around the store with a small clear orange megaphone--- THAT TURNED HER VOICE INTO THAT OF A ROBOT'S. Immediately I became a five year old child that wanted the other kid's toy. I actually trailed her around the store hoping that she'd lose her interest for a teddy bear that pukes or something, but to no avail. However, when her slightly burnt out mother put the toy up to the counter for the big purchase, the cashier bluntly informed her that the megaphone was NOT for sale. And the black market Goodwill sales ring was exposed for it's ugly truth - those employees have first dibs on everything in that organization- we're lucky if we see the upper half of second hand t-shirts coming into that place. WHEN WILL THE LIES AND RED TAPE STOP? All I want is to sound like a robot- are they to take this fantasy from my waking life?

Enough- save it Walding.

2004-04-11T02:21:00.000-05:00

I always feel inclined to post when in Sioux City - I think I always get a little more reflective when coming back here, like a mini-retreat from the real world. Saw a lot of very inspiring creations today, from Megan's project at the art center to my dad's new 'folk art" table to the Wurth's new house and retaining walls. I thought it would have left me with a little fuel to put together some songs and words, especially after the new strings went on. But I quickly became frustrated and tired at the end of the day, and wanted to just crawl into bed. Elusive is that muse. It makes me worried for future endeavors I might strike out on: if I'm hitting walls now, what about when I have to do it all day? When I have to create a floor plan for a bus depot in 8 hours and have nothing to build upon? But I suppose this happens frequently enough that people learn how to deal with it, but damn, it will be a hard lesson. I just hope I can gradually work up to the levels I know that lie somewhere in the recesses between my affinity for sharp cheddar cheese and my knack for invigorating wedding receptions. Play the Beastie Boys' Intergalactic and get the fuck out of the way.

2004-04-06T03:22:00.000-05:00

It's been a long day. After 10 hours on the concrete concourse dolin out the 'za, I thought I'd be done for. And i was right, for the first couple hours. Blankly staring at Okafor tearing GT a new one for the first half aided in recovery, Zatarain's Jambalaya did the rest. Headed over to Kevin's for the rest of the game, and he reminded me that both Trey and Modest Mouse had releases coming out Tuesday. With a quick call over to Sam Goody, we realized they both soon would be ours in their full bloated pricedness. This never being an issue for either of us regardless of our financial situation, we completed the quest. With me purchasing non-food items quite infrequently, I get really excited about new purchases and usually need to try it on/open it/shoot it/construct it/read it before I even start the car in the parking lot. THis night was no exception, and we decided Trey would be first, Kevin citing, "I know what I'm getting with Modest Mouse." OR DO YOU MY BOY? (To be revealed below.)

I won't get too far into things with either album, because both are quite worthy of your purchase/listen/burn, and unfettered listenings and viewings of good art are hard to come by now-a-these-a-days. The gentle refining and polishing of some of Phish's most intricate works propelled me past the Franklin Ave. turnoff and south on a dark road where I could be alone with the sound. What started coming to me was the idea of types of stimuli and our varying reactions to them. All day I was exposed to repetitive but demanding stimuli of hormone-jazzed teenagers wanting lots of food to nourish their beating hearts, bubbling at the notion of being crammed into a building with so many similar aged members of the opposite sex that didn't know about their "accident" in third grade. Charming, but horribly depressing when you remember the futility of your own similar emotions, past and present. It left the brain quiet except for a dull hum on the scanner that kept repeating "cheese, sausage, or pepperoni?" On the flip side, the wonderful stimuli of interesting music works in an entirely different way, allowing the music to paint colors and landscapes in dynamic cinematic sweeps, the lyrics (of Modest Mouse, let's say) creating the details and characters in the grand PowerPoint show of the mind.

I'm very pleased that after 10 hours of "bad" stimuli, my brain didn't give up responding to the mental dessert i treated it to later in the night on a country road towards Huxley. It gives me hope that I can still find and center myself even after the most thorough of brainwashings that daily responsibilities incur, ie a real career. Oh, and those of you keeping track, I'm still looking. And wincing. But new albums still roll out, and this whole obsession I have must be financed somehow. And we all float on.

Shawn

PS - So yeah, Modest Mouse makes a pop album (or as close as they could ever get)? First the alligator with sunglasses, now this - now I've seen everything.

2003-12-15T04:36:00.000-06:00

Run Habib Run

Habib ran a trucking company. Literally. And when I say literally, I mean "in the form of words". And when I say he ran the trucking company, I mean he ran it, Janet. Habib strapped the trucks to his large but firm torso and ran around town delivering the items contained in the trucks. I know. The logistics of such an operation seem strained at best, ineffective at worst. However, Habib had cornered a small (or acute) corner of the trucking commerce industry that prided themselves on the ideal of "Efficiency." Efficiency had come to mean everything, and everything had come to mean Efficiency. The word Efficiency was thrown around in this corner so recklessly that by August of 1997 it came to mean anything the inhabitants of the corner wanted it to. Efficiency was used so many times in Habib's company brochure that the "f" key on his keyboard had to be replaced with an "f" understudy. And yes, he was using a Manual typewriter. In the name of Efficiency.

The blatant and wanton use of Efficiency had no choice but to grab the throats of some readers of aforementioned brochures, for, at the time of this story, Efficiency had spilled out of our acute corner and soaked into the Brawny quick-wipe of American society. Everyone wanted to get their hands on some of that damn Effiiciency. And girl, did Habib have it in spades.

Although there were some unsuccessful ventures Habib stuck his fingers into, such as the cross-town mail-order groom service (the guys felt so sorry for Habib running out in front of the truck that they jumped out of the full size semi trailer they were being transported in and helped Hab expedite the process, and became so exhausted and sweaty that they could not perform well for their new fickle (and Horny) brides that night.), Habiber had moderate, to, shall we say "successful," success in those accounts that dealt with a cargo of seasonal gift items that no one ever really desired, but thought they would be great gifts for other people that they didn't love as much as themselves.

One March evening, Habib was jogging (it was a steep hill) with his 85 Volvo 12-axle duelie full size filled to the brim with Tasbo brand potholders depicting a maternal koala bear extracting gingerbread men from and old-fashioned stove pipe oven in a Yuletide bedecked kitchen (the justification of an artist creating such an image deserves its own tale). The shipment was due at Franny's Christmas Crap'N'Propane Tanks by November in time for the winter massacre. At this point, Habib felt he was making good progress. The sweat stained map in his left bumcheek pocket indicated a slowly inclining path towards F's CC'N'PT that suited Habib's oversized thighs and calves perfectly. Habib had chosen a warehouse (and, subsequently, a residence) at the lowest point in town, so all of his shipments would be higher in elevation than he (Habib had only a limp rope to strap to the Volvo's hood ornament, and this required his towed loads to be in a constant state of tension- downhills would spell Disaster with a capital F. Habib at one point had considered hiring a person or "bot" to apply the fully functional brakes of the truck during downhill traverses, but realized he'd have to decrease his use of the word Efficiency in his brochures by 30%, and, well, that wasn't happening, Ricky.). Anyway, to make a short story the length I want, it was at this very point in time that Habib realized that when his was six years old he had forgotten to turn the faucet all the way off in his parent's Nevada home after washing his hands of the fine impermeable clay found in the arid Tahoe basin.

Off came the harness.
Downhill went the koalas.
Bankrupt went F's CC'N'PT that Christmas.
SSSSSSSSSSSSReeeet went the torn brochures of Habib's livelihood.
ZHHHHHHUUUUT went the credibility of the word Efficiency.
CAMOCCKK went the collapse of the acute corner.
HrrrMM went the psyches of thousands trying to find something other than koala potholders for their respected but otherwise contrived acquaintances.
TSK exclaimed the mail-order grooms to their now-satiated wives after reading of Habib's incident in the pape.

Meanwhile, in Nevada, a tear salted the recreational shores of Lake Tahoe, as Habib absorbed the bittersweet consequences of his actions 30 years prior; sure, his parents, and their house at the bottom of the basin, were gone - but in its place, an exciting and profitable mecca of tourist commerce and $45 golf balls whizzing around him. Recovering quickly from his disorientation, Habib stood up, mail-ordered a groom (if you hadn't already guessed Habib was gay, I feel sorry for you), and began a development of Efficiency homes in the lowest part of town, on the shores of Lake Tahoe. He named them in memory of his parents, calling them "Habib's Parents' Efficiency Homes." Interestingly, Habib's parents decided to rent one of the Efficiencies, wrapping things up with a drunken twist of irony.

The End

2003-11-27T02:30:00.000-06:00

"100 million bottles all washed up on the shore..."

Good to see the boys again back home. I told Tom - the only real reason I come back to this town is for you guys and the fam - otherwise, this place has nothing I'd ever want. As friends go, I think I have some pretty good ones. Nevertheless, it would be interesting to see what would happen if us 'Sader boys started hanging out again- who would stay in touch, who would we never see again, who would annoy the fuck out of us, who would end up becoming an amazing unexpected friend. To summarize, I wish the bullshit of 6 months of catching up would wear off quicker so I could start really seeing what these guys are still all about. I bet there are some amazing changes to a lot of these guys, but the attempt to reclaim their old identity I think occupies a lot of their time.

But maybe I'm overreacting - maybe I'm wanting all of them to be the person I've come to build up in my head as opposed to an unpredictable, crazy guy. I guess I like it the way it is. Sigh- another thought that has been thought, and negated. I'd love to see THAT trashpile. There's some stinky remains on that hill. Must sleep, for tomorrow we eat and then die.

2003-10-17T02:53:00.000-05:00

Everyone, at sometime in their life, should dig a grave for one of their pets. One of the hardest things you'll ever do, but a tremendous lesson of continuity, humility, and friendship. I miss you, Oliver.

2003-09-05T10:41:00.000-05:00

Headed off to Chicago tonight for the big Tune-Up shindig. Could be playing in some really big games, really big points. I can't wait. I still get a high off that first layout D or grab. And not the paranoid high you get from crack cocaine- this is much smoother. It does give you the munchies though. Alright, poo time.

2003-09-02T14:34:00.000-05:00

I recently discovered that I am required to write a paper due thursday in one of my classes. I know what you're thinking- quit your verbose ass whining and chop this thing up, wordsmith! "I know!" I'd retort, but blogging is about things I care about, and obviously (as you can see by the frequency of posts here) has no set deadline or requirements for intellectual substance. Writing about environmental policy COULD be a cool thing, but whipping out album quotes and "scissor eating" quips is so much more satisfying. You know somethin'? WEAK.

So there was a guy at our party sunday evening who had come with a mission- no one knew what this mission was, and I don't think anyone ever figured out what it exactly was in the end- all I know is that it somehow involved imparting his displeasure of the state of things by confronting and manually destroying bushes and trees that he deemed to be out of line, or "overgrown". I walked to the front of our house and this kid had reached the main trunk of our medium sized bush and appeared to be working fiercely on snapping off all the main branches, effectively "teaching the boy a lesson." After his friend had eased him out of the entanglement, there was a very dazed and distant look in the fellow's glazzies, like when an axe murderer blacks out and finds blood on his hands later, or when Ralphie beat the shit out of that bully on A Christmas Story. All the tree tackler could mutter was "that bush--- it's, it's overgrown." We redirected his lifework to a less conspicuous backyard shrubberry, and I think he got himself all worked out. That's what you get when you come to parties at 126- good times, good people, and the occasional radical botanical therapy session.

Check before you wreck,
Green Hat

2003-08-06T01:38:00.000-05:00

Along the veritable carnival slide show that is I-80 through Nebraska, Kevin and I decided to divulge aforementioned obsessions and attempted to refine, concentrate, and screw with one of the greatest albums ever conceived, the Beatle's White Album. Many interviews have revealed that even the Beatles themselves had thought of combining both discs into one uber album, but couldn't agree on which tracks to cut. Well, we decided for them. I have to say, George did not fare well. None of his tracks (nor Ringo's) made the final cut. But we think we have produced the next greatest Beatles product, the Whiter Album. THis whole process cut two solid hours out of the 10 traveled, so no matter what the end project was, we considered it a success. Most of the time was spent arguing, campaigning and lobbying for the controversial 18th and 19th slots available on the disc, with tracks such as Helter Skelter (which I voted for merely for the Charles Manson issue), Cry Baby Cry (another one of my babies), Wild Honey Pie (Kevin's statement: what, you want to strip the album of its soul?), and The Continuing Story of Bungalow Bill. Things got so heated we had to turn it over to the Sheldahl contigent for tiebreaking decisions. Eventually, the entire van was embroiled with their own wishes and desires (Rachel swung the axe viciously through Birthday, stating it was merely a novelty song, while I thought it to be significant that someone was trying to make a dent in the standard Birthday Song monopoly). Amazingly, everyone agreed on songs such as Why Don't We Do It In The Road, and Honey Pie. In the end, a track list was arranged, high fives were forced, and the project was considered done. I'm listening to the new arrangement now, and am so far quite impressed. Look for it on an early installment of Jed Nesbitt's Circumstance of Rockery, our radio show on KURE. And that was the coolest thing that has happened lately in my life. Don't chew excssively on scissors before you swallow them.

2003-07-23T14:09:00.000-05:00

Mexican Fiesta was muy loco. Food was tasty, wish there was more. Became acquainted with the seldom-used Dank U and McDonald's Hazeldonk phrases. Shopping carts were pushed around the track. With people in them. Kegs were thrown over goal posts. Fireworks were lit. Inexplicably, Power lines were sheared. Mud was distributed to carpet. Love was distributed to many. Thanks guys. Sorry, this is a bit uninspired, as the guilt of non-work weighs heavily these days. I guess the remedy is "go to work". A lot easier than it sounds. Slowly, my contributions increase in volume. Next time, I'll have stupendous things to say regarding life and it's trivialities. Look for The Funky Funky Funky Hour of Funk on KURE next fall, if our secretary ever runs the papers through. It will be 2 hours of Kevin and I self-indulging our musical fantasies. Alright, duty should be calling....about.....now.

2003-06-30T01:20:00.000-05:00

Okay, Jesse has reclaimed his position as Best Person Ever by updating his multiple-paged web presence much more frequently than I. Really, if you came to this site after like February I feel really horrible. It's just all those numbers got in the way of me doing anything cool with words. But Don't get your hopes up yet, for there is much work waiting in the wings. Concrete and steel must be designed. After July 11th check back in- I'll give a Mexican Fiesta report that will sock your cock off. With...a....block....of chalk....can't stop, see end in distance.....oh here it is

2003-01-15T09:22:00.000-06:00

Good to know I can update this site from the computer lab at Iowa State- this is where I'll be spending most of my time for the next few months. School has started and I just don't know how to react. I annoyed everyone the past few days by asking school-related questions before I realized that no one likes to think about school if they don't have to. I too will grow tired of this charade we call education, but I'm giving it a few weeks. It's astrange situation, as I feel I am a different person in a place that hasn't changed all that much (other than the wonderful free buses that cart my arse around campus). Kinda like when you go back home and your room never seems as big as you remembered it and your dead battery collection isn't as cool as you thought it was so you eat the batteries and then you regret it.

How brown do white baseball caps have to get before people wearing them decide "you know what, this thing just isn't complimenting my wardrobe like it used to"?

2002-12-28T02:54:00.000-06:00

Quickly, children, quickly---- Last night in Minneapolis. Feel like shit. The bug that was meandering through Grandma Walding's house has struck home. Despite this, I attempt to pack, go see a friend one last time, and drive to Grandma Harrold's tomorrow. This illness comes at an ill-fated time. I hope to return to this town, the experiences I've had were all good and scary and exhilarating. Some really good shows too (see every other post on this page).

I hope to maintain this website while in Ames next semester for more procrastination material for the masses, God knows I'll need some now too. And I'll get sick of all those numbers all the time- there's only ten of em, you can't communicate all that much that way. Everyone have a relaxing Christmas break, because it's over soon and then comes the sweat and pencils and floppy disks and research and three hole punches and cold mocha cappucinos and ragged pant legs from walking and CD listening and utter exhaustion and Ed Kannel FREAKING OUT in class and getting up after a 2 hour nap that you have somehow justified as a proper night's sleep before a presentation and scholarship applications and scholarship rejection letters and bitching about the Daily and bitching about the crows and being poor and being in the computer lab in Town when your friends are out at the Disc Golf course and playing guitar when you have 8 pages left in your paper and remembering you left out the tuna noodles that your roommates will yell at you about and trying to pretend to be an adult when we all know we don't really have a clue about much at all and missing really important things because of other MORE important things and spreading butter on too much bread and trying to realize that although this experience sucks at times that it is nothing like the real world and it only gets more challenging from here. Oh, so that's why college kids drink a lot.

2002-12-15T02:20:00.000-06:00

Just read that Phish was deciding whether or not to release Round Room before Christmas or to release their New Year's Eve show as an album- an interesting choice they made indeed. No doubt the NYE show will go down unbelieveably well, but at the same time, the album is slowly creeping down into my heart- there's a demo-tape quality about it that keeps the disc quirky when it's not exactly transcendant. As usual, it's caught me by surprise, and just as I think I can assess an album's worth in a week, there's another one that baffles all logic.

And of course, the Boys were on SNL tonight. They were well integrated into the whole show, but my favorite part was when they played clips from You Enjoy Myself with the Peanuts cuttin a rug behind 'em. More animated Phish = Shawn bouncing off walls alone at his apartment.

2002-12-10T19:52:00.000-06:00

Still coming down from a how-do-you-say-ah-yes-impossibly-good Nickel Creek show on Sunday. Sara looked at me. I mean really looked at me. While she was singing Sabra Girl. I felt melty. I've tried, and words don't do much for describing what happened there. At the risk of sounding cheesy, they plucked more than just guitar and fiddle strings that night (who are we kidding, that undeniably registered large cheese amounts).

And now, another much-anticipated moment - Phish's new CD today. And upon first listen---------confused. How quickly they can break my heart then win it back again. The middle of the playlist is severely lacking anything intersting, this is where I think they could have utilized more than 4 days to come up with new material. Mexican Cousin? A Tequila song? Now THAT actually WAS written by Jimmy Buffet (Junta owners: see Sanity for witty cross reference). And Friday? I'll never wish it was Friday again. But most is forgiven by the Terrible Two at the end of the disc- Walls of the Cave and Waves. Already, I can see losing myself in a swirl of cigarette and ketchup fumes and Kuroda's lights this summer at Alpine Valley with the epic Waves jam the center of it all. A long-awaited return to Jam monsters like Harry Hood, Down with Disease, Reba. Walls of the Cave sounds very Junta-like with the polish of 12 road years behind them. Realize this analysis is 12 hrs into owning the disc, so Phish paradigms are still arranging themselves for placement in a Round Room.

2002-12-02T22:46:00.000-06:00

Love is Science
Science is Religion
Religion is Politics
Politics is Money
Money is Time
Time is Distance
Distance is Silence
Silence is Death
Death is Change
Change is Birth
Birth is Music
Music is God
God is Love.

2002-12-01T23:14:00.000-06:00

Back from BirThanksmas, intense family contact, probably intensified by my absence from such events for 8 months. Amidst the warm post-food glow of thanksgiving evening, I let the pumpkin pie ooze into my bloodstream while I took stock of the likewise drugged but pleasant people around me. I don't know if my grandparents always acknowledge it, but I'd be proud of a family of our strength, love, and character if I had a large part in creating it. Of course there have been some lowpoints and struggle, but overall we have been very successful and healthy when thrown out the door to the world, and have looked good doing it too.

But enough unabashed Horn-Tooting, down to business. If anyone who frquents this site (yeah, all 3 of you) knows of anyone who has a friend or relative moving up near the Twin Cities region, there is a tasty apartment just waiting to be consumed near the U of M campus. All referrals will recieve a mustache ride from my father. I'll explain all this later, dad.

2002-11-27T01:45:00.000-06:00

I talked to Chris from Brisbane tonight. the memories flooded. It reminded me of all I have already lost. My trip provided me (amongst other things) with an isolated time frame in which I can find out how much I actually retain from a 4 1/2 month block of my life. The surfacing results: disappointingly little. And I don't even do drugs. Much. I realized how much I loved every little nook and cranny i found in Brisbane and valued it on a scale I didn't bring back with me. Where do I find that value system again? The answer lies in a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that has yet to be made. until then- I shall strive to stay Cres.

2002-11-21T00:06:00.000-06:00

The cactus candle was looking at me again tonight. I wonder what secrets he holds in his thorny underbrush.

Does anyone else have problems with seeing large bulk amounts of food? I remember nights at the Hy-Vee Deli just staring at all that processed meat and it was just a little overwhelming. I wasn't disgusted, but just shocked at the fact that people would be EATING all of this in their stomachs. The real frightening stuff however, is on the back shelves in storage, like 5-gallon drums of cheesecake batter and those huge jars of whole pickled cucumbers, protruding from their brine like a freakin preserved brain or something (shudder). I think it all stems from when I was a little kid at the grocery store, I would develop irrational desires of certain foods like ketchup and Lucky Charms and pickle relish so much that I would fantasize of getting large drums and eating it all in one sitting. THen when I started working at Hy-Vee and was witness to all of the stored items in the back of the store, much like Icarus, I got too close to my fantasy, and it freaked me out. If I hid back there long enough, everyone would leave and I'd start in on that palatte full of Fruit Roll-up boxes. I'd liken it to that feeling you get on a high ledge, like you shouldn't think about it too much or you'd jump in a fit of passion- it's the same thing with me and huge boxes of food- there's a crazy urge to tear open and devour everything in sight, although I know the repercussions. ANd don't even get me started with Sam's Club.

And if it's not bulk food items getting me down, it's these.

2002-11-20T02:04:00.000-06:00

It is amazing what 3 weeks of no exercise will do to the body. I ran for two days and every part of me is in staunch protest of the effort. "Watch more Sifl and Olly!" says my brain. "I really enjoyed clicking the mouse button," interjects my right arm. "Why the hell are you running me into metal cables hidden in short brush?" complains my shin. "I thought we agreed you'd discuss these things with me before you start them," related my ankles. "It's cool you're doing this," admits my ass, "but I was really working on a relationship with your desk chair. Where do I tell her I've been? Running? Yeah, like she'll believe that." And my poor heart, it keeps plugging along, assuring me "No, it's okay, I need the overtime right around the holidays- who else will get the little arteries their new PlayStation?"

In an unrelated incident, my stomach has implemented a trade embargo with my mouth until it refrains from exporting week-old tuna casserole south. Of course, the mouth points a finger at both my hands and my brain as the underlying factors of the tainted shipment. It seems my only content entities are the Ears and the Soul, most likely due to a steady flow of quality goods from Bright Eyes, Ween, Stephen Malkmus, and The Liars.

2002-11-06T18:20:00.000-06:00

This IS be the funniest 4 lines ever written:

"hello beef leprecan. i do have 3 wishes."
"it is to late. i ate the 3 wishes."
"did you eat my bike?"
"yes."

I can't explain it, because I am stunned.

2002-11-06T00:17:00.000-06:00

WIth a windy-type snow today in the wests, Ben Kweller seemed like a perfect fit- like a fireplace in a dirty room. These shall be the Dark Days of my internship, I'm guessing. Cold, gray, dirt, early darkness - The kind of days that you can't say much about other than a slightly audible sigh that everybody in the car understands. I'm looking upon winter in a slightly nostalgic way this year - yes, even the crap parts - as I've seen a land without Winter and realize what it's lacking. It's really hard to explain, kinda like when Suzie tried to explain the theory of the Godhead to me. I guess that winter has always been a part of my normal cycle of life, and while it's the melancholy, dark part, it the part that makes every other time of year so valuable and palpable. Kinda like if we didn't have evil, how would we know goodness? Kinda like the theory of universal balance shared by Zen, John Wooden, and me? Yeah, kinda. So am I saying that the whole of Australia has a lack of spiritual balance due to its temperate climate? Who cares- their ice cream is kickass.

2002-10-28T01:03:00.000-06:00

I got excited opening up my structures book tonight. Just a random page, describing the stiffness of beams with a function. Hopefully it'll last a while. It won't. Home was fun- not as jarring or disorienting as I'd thought it would be, and full of the good food and conversation I now come to expect. And I suppose I can't expect to go to 4th street these days without running into "the people you never thought/wanted to see again" but it refreshes the already withering memories of Heelan. Probably my favorite moment this weekend was reading a couple old children's books i dug up from my past- "don't forget the oatmeal", the harrowing tale of bert and ernie's adventure to the supermarket in which they encounter Cookie Monster barely able to contain his ravenous appetite; and "The Red Ripe Strawberry", the story of a hungry mouse biting off more fruit than he can chew and the bear who was on the prowl for the same. Each illustration came rushing back to me with every page, and I realized how stimulating those drawings were to my tiny little brain. Ernie had LEGS? Cookie MOnster also had a craving for peas? How does a mouse conceal a strawberry twice the size of itself? Important knowledge for me at 4, I can assure you. I advise all to go find their old kids books, it's better than getting drunk at a bar again.

2002-10-22T02:16:00.000-05:00

Oh yes, friends, this is what it's all about. I knew things were starting to go my way today when a guy let me take a Pork Tornado poster for free off the wall at Know Name Records, but I never knew it could go as far as it did. HEaded to the show after a quick nap, got in with plenty of time to spare, so I read up on Pedro the Lion (tomorrow) and Amon Tobin, a DJ who played at Bonnaroo. Gremlins is playing on the big screen before the show, and I got to see the part where the one nasty one gets into the pool and makes lots of nasties in a great 80's fog and light effects show. I walk by a short guy getting food that I quickly realize is 1/4th of my favorite band in the world and somehow, "Hey, Jon" comes out. Gives a quick nod and ducks backstage with food. Wow. Then the Tornado shows up- a very interesting sound. At times, quite funky, at times very "bar band"-ish, and at times weed-in-yer-mouth country. I notice the sax player has blue hair and Mr. Potato Head on his shirt, as does the girl next to me. We also both couldn't help noticing later in the show when the same man, while singing his signature tune "Kiss My Black Ass" (my favorite of the nite) pulls his pants down to present aforementioned ass for all to inspect. And only $15 to see this! But the climax of the show came late in the set, when the bass player exited stage left, only to be replaced with MIKE GORDON OH MY GOD WHY DO YOU LOVE ME SO MUCH? As the stoners around me realized what was going on, they all crowded the front of the stage for an insane version of Money (that's what I want) that detracted from Mike being up there, as all I heard was the sax player screaming "fuckin" and "money" because he didn't know all the words. But who the hell cares, the lower half of Phish was up on stage!!! It took Mike to warm up, but i could tell he started letting loose at the end, even got a sly smile out of him! THat was unfortunately all we got out of Cactus, but they sweetly ended the night with a Jungle Boogie that demanded your feet upon the floor. Ten girls from the audience were brought up on stage at the end shakin their money makers, and it ended at a fiery blaze of funk. Quite the night. THat's what you get for giving in to the rock and rolling and hey hoyden itshakestheheiny.

2002-10-16T22:43:00.000-05:00

Things are really starting to slow down at work now. If I was forced to be honest with myself, I'd say that I'm pretty much done with the learning part of the internship, and am now accepting my role as Hired Hand. But I'm sure some sort of learning will be unavoidable in the end. I very frightening thing I realized today: My job feels like the opposite of listening to music. Playing a CD on the way home feels like emerging from sitting on the bottom of the pool after you let out all your air before you went down. Hm. Civil Engineering. We'll see.

"So don't go blaming your knowledge on some fruit you ate."
-Conor Obherst

2002-10-14T21:17:00.000-05:00

Yeah, okay, long time, got it. Go frolick in the leaves or something. Anyway, I'm back- not that I went anywhere other than "not on this site." I'd like to mention the fact that I have outlived thenjessesaid.com, and have reclaimed the title of "Best Person Ever." I'm in a new place, complete with a tapestry and fruit flies. Work has leveled off to a dull numbing pain with brief electric jolts of responsibility 3 times a week. I bet YOU never shoved your face close to the windshield for an hour while driving just to see from a different point of view. Okay, maybe you have.

Well I'm not feeling journalistically inspired right now, but now that I've made my return into (onto?) cyberspace, the ideas will flow forth, bleeding like the wine barrels of 18th century France onto the cobblestones of a revolution. Ah yes, I can hear the juices now.............

2002-08-27T16:21:00.000-05:00

Today, I saw two white squirrels with pink eyes frolicking amongst regular grey squirrels. This initially gave me quite a shock, and resulted in thoughts of the impending apocalypse, or perhaps something horrible happening to me, such as a white squirrel slowly eating my eyeballs. I quickly called in a few local consultants, and they assured me that the St. Paul area is quite abundant with these freak rodents. This in no way makes it better.

Sorry for the lack of updates, I'm currently moving into my new place. I gots plenty to say when I'm set up however.

2002-08-20T16:47:00.000-05:00

There's nothing I hate more than whiny kids that use books or music or poetry to try to convey their feelings, especially when they want to get attention by starting a damn website to make people cry for them. It's all that emo shit that's the the problem. And the hippie music.

2002-08-18T01:18:00.000-05:00

Why is it that things written fifty years ago by a WWII veteran half a world away about mythical fantasy worlds makes perfect sense to a 21 year old college student in 2002 searching for some meaning in his spiritual journey?

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

Wandering...........

2002-08-14T23:59:00.000-05:00

There are a lot of things that happen in the span of 21 years to one person, and much of those happenings can be passed off as a part of the random, chaotic, and frighteningly bizarre world we live in, nothing more. But every now and again, there occurs a few odd synchronized events in sequence that seem to happen for a certain reason. No matter how inconsequential they seem to be, our lives are waaaaaay too short to not draw these times up from the mucky-muck. Today- I'm driving to the west suburbs of Minneapolis early in the morning for another round of sewer lines and construction guys named Marty and Lenny. In the middle of 8AM gridlock, I decide that Phish's Rift is the proper selection to pull me through. I'm right. By the time I get to Wayzata, I'm feeling awake and happy as All Things Reconsidered lilts out on to Minnetonka Lake. I could almost feel as if I was on the edge of SOMETHING. Sure enough, as I round a corner and enter the peculiarly named suburb of Mound, the album instantly responds with its own Mound (the Phish song). Unplanned, unexpected, perfectly timed, thrilling. That could have been enough. I then come home after a warm and long day outside and check my email - and the Unspeakable has occurred. PHISH BREAKS HIATUS - FOUR SHOWS IN WINTER 2002. After the necessary convulsions of hysteria had subsided, I remembered the Mound Moment from before, and I almost got what Southern ladies term as "the vapors." It was as if I had unlocked a door with a key I didn't know I had. It's these kinds of moments, the ones that blindside you with joy, that I live for and cherish- sometimes they're big, sometimes they're small, but they're always appreciated, and, without getting too spiritchal on your asses, they let me know that things are going the way they ought in the Master Plan.

Oh, I also tried a new flavor of Gatorade today - Orange Ice.

2002-08-09T14:30:00.000-05:00

So I was out looking for apartments for September, and as I was walking through this place near Falcon Heights, I ask the guy- "So what is the neighborhood like? Is it safe?" His immediate response: "Well, it's an all-white neighborhood." No explanation, just implied meaning. He thought that explained it all.

How does one respond to that? I didn't know what to say. I said, "Oh." If I had more than 20 minutes with him, I might have gotten more into it. I don't know exactly what I would say, but I'd start talking. But that moment passed- on to the walk-in closet. I guess I won't die on that hill.

2002-08-07T20:45:00.000-05:00

I can't believe it! I'm on the Inter-Net! Now I've seen everything! I will make sure this site reaches heights never attained by ThenJesseSaid or any other stupid website I've ever seen. Well, maybe not. In fact, no, no it won't. Wow, failing before even beginning - beautiful start.