* * *

Cass McCombs – You Saved My Life. Catacombs; 2009. Buy.

Here:

The criteria to decide whether or not to buy an album on vinyl goes as follows:

I. Is the album art appealing?
II. Is the album in question an album or merely a collection of songs?
III. Do you own a record player?
IV. Can you see yourself forcing your children to listen to the album?
V. Is it Belle and Sebastian?

If you answered “Yes” to more than three of these then you should buy the vinyl.

PS Somehow Sir Richard Bishop’s “The Freak of Araby” album satisfied all of the criteria.

Reply to: pers-5usez-**********@craigslist.org

Date: 2009-07-06, 5:14PM EDT

* * *

Hey there, I was in Allston this weekend (Saturday maybe) and you were vomiting up what looked like Vermicelli outside of Wünderbar… you were so HOT.

Your friends were also HOT. Pretty much, you’re HOT.

If you’ve brushed your teeth and mouthwash-ed, hit me back, yo. (I’m white.)

I really hope you get this, and I’m not desperate or anything, but I think you may have looked at me, and we had a moment.

(Also, I totally think you’re HOT.)

* * *

* Location: Allston

* it’s NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

PostingID: 1256486204

Animal Collective – College.

* * *

ps. first track from the Almighty Defenders, Bow Down and Die. a bit drastic seeing as how we’ve all got three years until 2012.

pps. be warned, there is an ad at the end disguised (well, not really) behind the cloak of a gentle British gal’s voice. there are no free lunchezz.

Almighty Defenders – Bow Down and Die [vice]

The following topics were elaborated upon at the following locations on the 4th of July; which, I think is apt: Boylston x Arlington (in front of a Mr. Frosty’s ice cream truck), the Boston Commons, the Mass Ave bridge, a living room in Central Square, Charlie’s Kitchen, a living room in Somerville, Mass Ave in front of the Middle East while biking at a moderate speed.

Middle East politics, specifically, a two state solution, the legitimacy of Hezbollah (or lack thereof), the legitimacy (or lack thereof) of Hamas and how they’re squandering opportunity in their handling of Gaza, the legitimacy (or lack thereof) of Israel and how they’re squandering opportunity in their handling of Gaza, how aid is more effective than sanctions.

Van Gogh, specifically, how to properly pronounce “Gogh” and the likelihood of being laughed at by the Dutch when pronounced “Gogh” (very likely, almost assured).

Urbanism, specifically, how nature is irrelevant, moving at great speeds, adrenaline as a drug of choice, cyberpunk and how Tokyo has lots its appeal, biking as the only suitable means to access, embrace and capture a city.

Where to spend charity dollars, specifically, Anarchist Black Cross, Unicef, Oxfam, Food Not Bombs or Food Banks and how one must decide on a charity based, in some regards, simply on the amount of money given to said charity, Papercut.

Architecture, specifically, music and writing about it (see: this or any other article on the site you are currently browsing).

Food, specifically, how good are the waffle fries at Charlie’s Kitchen? Awesome right? I know, totally great.

Food, specifically, the cheapest foods to live on for an extended period of time (rice and beans), how Dan does not like these foods (rice and beans), how I guess Dan is shit of luck then, fasts, cleansing diets, the type of foods Ben eats and how that affects his overall mood, bowels, and essence, pizza insofar as you can buy it off people on the street after 4th of July fireworks for $0.50 a slice, Anthony Bourdain, Harry’s and the Bloody Mary.

Sexuality, specifically, sexuality and post modernism, pedophilia as a reflection on our current social constructs, its biological relevance, the case of the botched circumcision followed by sex change, a pained life and eventual suicide (read: urban legend), the immense education of exotic dancers outside the FSU campus, the role of the John, objectification and how working the lunch shift must be a bummer.

Ilyn’s diary, specifically, why can’t we read it? Please? Come on…Fine, whatever.

Blinders, specifically, joining the military and following orders, joining the church and following orders, and how no one can make us follow any orders because we are young and will sit in the park for as long as we want and we will drink Joose in public and we will break traffic laws and we will shout at drivers who do not care for our breaking of traffic laws and we will pee off the side of the Mass Ave bridge and we will jump and we will make machine gun noises and we will stack bikes and we will sit on the side walk and we will be as loud as we want and and we will be.

Salami, Roast Beef, Turkey, Ham, Swiss, Mayo, Mustard, Lettuce, Onion, Tomato, Etc., Etc.

I stopped to eat dinner tonight at a sandwich shop in the mall – one of my least favorite places, probably in the world, and especially as a place to eat dinner alone.  I still have no idea what inspired me to do this.  Regardless, I was quietly reading, when the only other person in the restaurant (a female) started loudly shouting obscenities into her cellular telephone.  “I am so fucking sick of this shit…I really am, I am not kidding this time…”  At one point she even threatened to throw her phone on the ground.  I found this to be a particularly odd threat, and one only disadvantageous to herself, not to the person on the other end.  I thought of suggesting to her that simply hanging up would have the same effect and would keep her phone in tact, but thought it better not to interrupt.  I also desperately tried not to listen to, or show my interest in, her conversation, but it was too hard not to – I was eating by myself, in the mall, and her conversation was far more interesting than what I was reading.

I could not help but wonder what was making her so mad…and then all my questions were answered.  “I swear this makes me so fucking angry…you don’t even understand…I asked the waitress last night how many calories were in my meal and she said 600…I am not fucking lying…and she said Amy’s pasta, which Amy ordered as her meal for dinner, had 500, but mine had less carbs in it.” She continued, as her voice grew increasingly louder, and shouted, “And you don’t even fucking understand…yesterday Sarah asked me if I wanted a peanut butter cup, and I took it, and I threw it on the ground, and stepped on it…I’m telling the fucking truth…and what is that, like, 40 calories, 43 calories…and Vicky had a peanut butter cup, and Samantha had a peanut butter cup, and Michelle had a peanut butter cup and a half, and Laura had two peanut butter cups…”  Her list of who ate one, two, or god forbid, even three, peanut butter cups continued for some time, interrupted only by “I am not fucking lying,” and (of course) “I am so fucking sick of this shit.” I was utterly amazed.  I wanted to know desperately who she was talking to, why she knew and remembered exactly how many peanut butter cups eighteen different females had consumed yesterday, why this was making her so angry, and why the person on the end of the line cared…at all.  What perplexed me the most was why she took the offered peanut butter cup in the first place – why didn’t she just say “no thank you,” or “no fucking thank you” for that matter, instead of throwing it on the ground and stomping on it.  I had no idea what she achieved by doing that, and why she was retelling that story later.

Even more interesting, in light of everything, was the sandwich she was eating while she had this conversation. She ordered her sandwich immediately after me (which occurred prior to this conversation of course), and ordered what the sandwich shop calls “The Wreck.” This is a salami, roast beef, turkey, ham, and swiss cheese sandwich, and to which she added mayonnaise, oil, and hot peppers. I know a peanut butter cup has a whole 43 calories (at least I do now after overhearing this enlightening conversation), and I am fairly certain “The Wreck” has way more than 43 calories.  I waited with excitement throughout my entire dinner, hoping she would throw “The Wreck” on the floor of the mall and stomp on it, multiple times (as it is also considerably larger than a peanut butter cup), but it never happened.  Instead she ate all of it, while shouting at the person on the other end of the telephone, and continuing to list everything everyone she knew ate over the past twenty-four hours…while cursing.  I left the mall and ate three peanut butter cups, but unfortunately had no one to tell, let alone yell at about it.

(Photo: kevincrumbs)

At first I was the kind of worried that you get when you purchase a new microwave and are unsure of its heating capacity. So you decide baked beans would make for a good test run and set the time to oh, I don’t know, four minutes forty three seconds because you think four minutes fifty seconds would just be overkill. But now I’m the kind of worried that makes you wake up every five minutes for a full hour before your alarm is set to go off.

Kyle† is missing. Gone.

†(Kyle is my roommate and best friend. Best friend seems a bit drab insofar as there should be a special word or phrase for “best friend.” Obviously BFF is out of the question. Another friend that was not Kyle and therefore not my best friend referred to her best friends as “besties,” I like that. However, I’m not quite sure I could pull it off so I’m forced to continue to call him my best friend even if it just doesn’t have the proper amount of attitude/joy permeating through its essence.)

Now after telling you all that he’s my best friend, and I feel horrible for saying this, but I’m not sure how long he’s been gone for. I’m pretty sure I saw him just the other day. Then again days could easily mean weeks and weeks months or decades or eons – I just cannot be sure. One may call me a horrible person for forgetting how long your bestie (Yup, I was right…that will be the first and last time I use ‘bestie.’ It had such promise, dang.) has been missing. But when your friend is gone its tough to keep track of it – it’s not like a bowel movement’s departure which is impossible not to keep track of. No, this is different and I just can’t be sure if I saw him Tuesday or last Tuesday or the Tuesday before the last Tuesday before that. At least I’m genuinely worried, right?

And now his notes assuring my of his safety have ceased to arrive (his last note being the best, of course) and I have begun to question whether prior notes were even genuine. Or, were they just elaborate hoaxes created by his kidnappers to make his loving friend unaware and docile to the fact he was being imprisoned against his will only to be heinously slaughtered, his kidneys sold on the black market but his liver discarded after they discover how much fun we’ve had.

So now he’s gone (or in Washington DC for a few days) and I am left in solitude (or left to hang out with some other besties).

Girls – Solitude

Download audio file (girls_solitude)

Album is out September 22nd on True Panther.

What is that you ask? I will tell you. Ok. Ready?

The sacred art of music journalism hinges on two things. The first concerns being able to finish the phrase “this song reminds me of” in a manner that is not unforgivably boring or absolutely trite. This of course necessitates actually knowing something that is not unforgivably boring or absolutely trite. Personally, I go out of my way to saturate my articles with hyperlinks like this one and this one so as to enrich the reader’s experience with often dangerous and exciting information. You know that feeling you just got when you went to those sites? Well, that feeling is the essence of the second aspect of music journalism. Let’s call it vitality. An overabundance of vitality is the key to great music journalism even though it usually ends in suicide or accidental death. Vitality expresses itself in music journalism when the music journalist is where they are supposed to be for the simply reason that they wanted to be there, for better or worse.

With all that said, how weird is this song?

Ove-naxx – “Ovekeyashiki”

Coolidge Theatre is like my middle school girlfriends. I go over to see her, we sit in the dark for a couple hours watching a flick and by the end my legs and arms are sore and tired because I was too nervous to invade her personal space.

Coolidge Theatre is not like my middle school girlfriends because they never brought Béla Fleck over to answer my questions and play music for me. Granted in middle school I didn’t know who Béla Fleck was, but that doesn’t excuse them for not thinking of my future interests.

In order to make ammends for my middle school girlfriends I am (with the help of the generous folks at Coolidge) offering up two pairs of totally free tickets to see Béla Fleck’s recent documentary Throw Down Your Heart. Béla Fleck will be there to introduce the film, answer questions and perform!

The screening is on July 9th at 7pm.

HOW TO WIN:

1. Leave your name and email address in the comments below and I’ll pick two lucky winners who will each get a pair of tickets.
2. Contest ends Tuesday July 6th at 11:59pm (in order to make the whole affair more dramatic).
3. Simple right? Here’s an example to make sure there is no confusion whatsoever.: aaron enoughcowbell at gmail dot com.

More on the proceedings follows, courtesy of Coolidge Theatre:

THROW DOWN YOUR HEART

Film Preview at the Coolidge Corner Theatre
with introduction, Q&A and performance by banjo pioneer Béla Fleck
Thurs, July 9 at 7 pm

THROW DOWN YOUR HEART follows American banjo great Béla Fleck on his journey through Africa to explore the roots of the banjo and record an album. Fleck’s boundary-breaking musical adventure takes him to Uganda, Tanzania, The Gambia and Mali, and provides a glimpse of the beauty and complexity of Africa and the richness and diversity of its musical traditions. During his travels, Fleck works with an array of musicians – from local villagers who play a twelve-foot xylophone, to a family that makes and plays the akonting (thought by many to be the original banjo), to international superstars such as the Malian diva Oumou Sangare. Using his banjo, Fleck transcends barriers of language and culture, finding common ground with musicians from very different backgrounds.

Considered by many to be the world’s premiere banjo player, Béla Fleck is a powerfully creative force in bluegrass, jazz, pop, rock, classical, and world music. The multiple Grammy winner has virtually reinvented the image and the sound of the banjo in a performing and recording career that has taken him all over the musical and geographic map. He is best known at the helm of the groundbreaking group Béla Fleck and the Flecktones.

Tickets to the July 9 preview available in advance online at www.coolidge.org/showtimes or at the Coolidge Corner Theatre box office, located at 290 Harvard Street in Brookline. The Coolidge will present additional screenings of THROW DOWN YOUR HEART beginning July 10. For more information, visit www.coolidge.org or call 617/734-2500.

Official THROW DOWN YOUR HEART site:  http://www.throwdownyourheart.com/.

Critical Buzz:

“An exhilarating feast of sight and sound.”
LA Times

“You don’t need to know the language to be gripped by the force…”
New York Times

“Vibrant and spontaneous…”
Film Threat

“A heartfelt personal journey…refreshing”
Village Voice

“Both the documentary and the disc of Throw Down Your Heart justify their existence independently—and rather beautifully.”
Time Out New York

“Demonstrates that no other language is needed when two people sit down with their instruments and make them sing.”
San Francisco Chronicle

Peter Sellers died on July 24th 1980.

* * *

I met Pete Sellers last week. His hair, what was left of it, was unkempt. Strands darted in every direction, but the majority lunged forward trying to jump ship. He was a lot thinner than I remembered from the movies. His clavicles, shoulders and neck formed a clothes hanger that propped up his head and hung his clothes loosely over his frail body. The glasses he wore were purely perfunctory as he could no longer see.

I asked, “How are you?”

He responded with “What?” while he cupped his hand against his ear.

I raised my voice and asked again.

He responded in the exact same fashion.

At this point I leaned in closely and began to shout my questions at him. “HOW ARE YOU?”

“What?”

“HOW! ARE! YOU!?”

“Okay.”

Emil and Friends – Downed Economy (Mr Vega Stimulus Remix)

Download audio file (emilandfriends_downedeconomy(mrvegaremix))

Downed Economy 7″ (Downed Economy/Josephine) is out July 27th. Pre-order. Be-friend.

* * *

Love On An Oil Rig is out in September. Be-friend.

* * *

Epilogue:

Before I met Peter he had unsuccessfully tried to convince his female caretaker to help him do things with himself. His hands no longer functioned well enough to do it on his own. She was not pleased by this. Neither was he.

Well, he was Okay.

* * *

The preceeding was a true story. The bands featured however, are imaginary.