The Pill versus the Springhill Mine Disaster (read this one)

I’m completely enamored with Richard Brautigan’s poetry.  It’s not like I’m turning over any new stones by blogging about Brautigan, but dear god the man deserves some credit.

No one can say more with less than him.  He’ll space one thought over a series of many lines and make the reader really absorb what he’s saying.  Instead of shoving idea after idea down your throat, there’s one idea, and it’s right in front of you.

That’s not to say that his poetry goes without real discussion; it’s just to say that he gets incredible things across in ways I never thought possible.  Take, for example, his poem “Man”:

With his hat on/he’s about five inches taller/than a taxicab.

This shows off his sense of humor, certainly.  Calling a poem “Man” and then making a statement like that is why I like him so much.  Man is just taller than a taxicab.

Ask me if you want to hear more.

Inside of your frozen traffic when you knew I had some other place to be

Where are you tonight, sweet Marie?

Seriously, there are very few days when the material on this record doesn’t floor me. Today, I was in Metamusic Records and the guy working was banging on the counter to the rhythms of “Sooner or later one of us must know” and it just hit me how long it’d been since I’d really listened to Blonde on Blonde.

I can’t really let this happen often. Is there a song that puts me in a trance more than “Fourth Time Around”?

No.

Here’s Yo La Tengo’s cover. Probably the only band in the world who could truly do it justice. Georgia Hubley is descended from the heavens, her voice comes from the angels.

A few things

Sometimes I’ll talk about sports here, namely baseball:

If you’re a Cubs fan, I’m really, really sorry. I had no idea it was possible to choke so often and so hard. Your choke to time ratio is superb, really.

Otherwise, here’s a conversation that sums up some thoughts I’ve been having:

Scott Karoly: would kids really call justice a religious experience if it weren’t for the following:
Scott Karoly: a) copious amounts of ecstasy
Scott Karoly: or b) more fittingly, the ridiculous blown up christian iconography that is their entire message lyrically and artistically on stage/record
Scott Karoly: lyrically=song titles
Scott Karoly: i mean it’s right in their fucking faces
Scott Karoly: if someone like tom petty performed in front of a gigantic fucking cheeseburger, would we call his music a “burger experience?”
Scott Karoly: “when I hear ‘american girl’, i want some fucking beef, man!”
Scott Karoly: i guess you don’t have to answer that.
Edo Konrad: HAHA

But seriously. How hard is it to think you’re having some transcendent religious experience when you’re faced with this for an hour plus in a dark room:

Does anyone want to talk to me about how good of a song “Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner” by Warren Zevon is? Anyone? George?

It really doesn’t sound like it came from the ’70s.

What’s up, friends?

Since this is a blog, it’s time to blog about people who aren’t famous* like Phil Elverum or Blitzen Trapper

My friend Erin started a blog. She makes beards. There is a picture on that blog of me wearing a beard.  I’m sure she’d make you one if you asked. She’s quite good at it.  She also makes prints and other little things.

My friends Lauren and Caroline are in a band called The Splinters. They’re from Oakland. I’m not the first to blog about them. They play a type of music that’s hard not to enjoy. I could name drop other bands that they sound like, but I feel like their myspace does enough of that. They can do a lot of things well. The first song on their EP (handmade and out of print, might I add. These are words that do well for eBay.) sounds like a snowball rolling down a hill, growing and picking up speed (and snow) as it runs people over. This is not a weak band. This is most definitely not the Pipettes. Not to say that their delivery is like a “brick through a plate glass window” (super bonus points to anyone who gets that reference); the song “Worry” is as delicate as they come. It’s got a sort of serious intimacy to it in its four-track tone and lyrics, but the melody is punctuated by an almost Yellow Submarine-esque backing vocal that gives the song a little bit of light.

The Splinters have some shows scheduled in the Bay Area. Go see them.

My friends Matt, Josh, Collin and Luke are in a band called The Spurts. I saw them last week and my feet were tapping the entire time. They just released a 7″ with three songs on it. My favorite is one of the b-sides, “Never Love”. Power-pop references aren’t exactly too varied generally; some people just say “If you liked the Exploding Hearts, you’ll love this.” Matt got me into the Exploding Hearts. This band will have you feeling the same way – young and ready to enjoy yourself. Something about this band is out of the derivative norm. These songs don’t feel engineered as much as composed. Guitar solos show up out of nowhere, backup vocals too. I’m not writing a lot of big sentences about this band. This isn’t the kind of music that begs big sentences or dramatic comparisons. This is the kind of music that begs you to buy another 32 ounce bottle of Miller High Life and flip over the record. Turn it up. Accidentally break something.

The Spurts play regularly around Santa Cruz and the surrounding area.

My friend Travis Hill just finished his new record. He’s starting to record at a Robert Pollard-esque pace. These guys talked about him recently, too. I guess I’m not the only one that likes genuinely incredible songwriting.

I’m thankful to know all of these people.

All good things have endings?

No, not this blog.

Tomorrow’s the last Stories often Told, it seems. www.kzsc.org. 9-10:30 AM, pacific time. 88.1 if you’re in Santa Cruz, Monterey, or San Benito County. I’ll be doing Dose of Thunder, my new music show again this fall.

I remember in high school (well, when I was graduating high school) being really into the Get up Kids song “Forgive and Forget”. That last week of school I kept singing to myself “all good things have endings” but I didn’t really forgive or forget much there. Well, I definitely forgot.

I guess this real good thing’s gotta go. Waking up at 7:45 on wednesdays was never my favorite, but by about 9:30 I was always really into it, glad that I got to play some tunes that people dug. I got a whole lot of compliments about the show, but I won’t be asking listeners to call the station and “save” the show. I guess it’s just time.

Today’s chronicle headline was very, very intense:

I mean, that’s a real news picture, not something posed. The colors work, certainly. It looks like the opening shot of a television drama, but this is real life. I’m sure Beaudrillard would be laughing at this (or is laughing at this, dude’s not dead). We perceive elements of reality through the lens of things that aren’t real. Pretty soon, we’ll probably only be able to process things this way; getting a divorce will be like getting a “second season” of a reality dating show where the final goal is “love” until the next season.

Regardless, no song in this. Listen to the show tomorrow. Playlist for my show this afternoon (which went well, I think) here.