Off Wing Opinion

Here's an interesting game Radley Balko posted this morning:

Pick a an article from Wikipedia

A little more than two years ago I introduced Off Wing readers to songwriter Jonathan Coulton.

I had lost track of Coulton after downloading a few tracks of his, but now the New York Times (?) tells me he's doing fine:

In September 2005, he quit his job as a computer programmer and, with his wife

Who's my favorite rock star? It's changed over the years, but Joe Strummer has spent the most time at #1.

Glad to see I'm not alone:

And if you prefer the original version:

Funny enough, as that song winds down, I can't help but hear the first few bars of Billy Joel's, Sometimes A Fantasy ringing in my ears. Not that I want it there, but the local rock station of my youth, WPLJ-FM, would always mix one into the other in an efficient, if perplexing segue.

Kind of like washing down filet mignon with a Fribble, but what can you do?

Thanks to Chris Lynch for the original pointer and the unexpected birthday present.

For music nerds and fans of the band. Thanks to Jim Henley for the pointer.

Thanks to Colby Cosh for unearthing an old interview with John Lennon on the real deal when it comes to charity concerts.

Consummation by Sharks and Minnows from the CD The Cost of Living.

Hey, any band that plays The Earl is all right by me.

UPDATE: I'm really liking Past Life Regression.

Goods by Mates of State, off of the CD All Day.

Thanks to Indiefeed's Alt/Modern Rock channel (RSS feed).

Faith Keppinger, No Galore.

Answers to a quiz in response to Chris Lynch.

Q: Total volume of music files on my computer:

2155 songs comprising nearly 11 gigs. 10.4 days in total.

Q: The last CD I bought:

Ben Folds, Super D.

Q: Song playing now:

Some interesting mashup of Teach Your Children Well by CSN layered with some unidentified Reggae artist. It's from the Adam Curry Podcast show.

Q: Five songs I listen to a lot, or that mean a lot to me:

Human -- The Pretenders: Was the theme song to the gone-too-soon Cupid, probably the only show I've ever seen to catch the tenor of what it's like to be a single adult.

Whenever You're On My Mind -- Marshall Crenshaw: Simply my favorite songwriter of all time. Of course, when I had the chance to meet him, I didn't tell him. Nerves I guess.

Better Things -- Fountains of Wayne: Cover of an early 80s Kinks effort, they first played it on Late Night with Conan O'Brien about a week after 9-11. Watched that clip from the show in RealPlayer more times than I could count. It always seemed to help.

King of Babylon -- David Johansen: Did you hate Buster Poindexter as much as I did? Whenever I hear this, it's mid-afternoon in the Spring of 1986 and I'm in the studio at WCUA-FM. It was the last time I would work as a DJ.

Bring the Noise -- Anthrax and Pubic Enemy: Who needs Walk this Way?

I'm looking for 5 bloggers to continue the meme - so if you'd like to volunteer to answer these 4 questions on your blog - please let me know in the commons and I'll link to your responses on this post.

Ouch, I can still remember laughing at the 20th anniversary of Woodstock, and here I am staring down the 20th anniversary of LiveAid? As it turns out, my buddy Levi is holding a contest where he's giving away three copies of the LiveAid DVD in exchange for your rememberances of that day.

As for me, I worked a 10-hour shift at McDonald's, most of which was spent installing a freezer curtain inside a unit in our parking lot. It was 90 degrees with heavy humidity on the outside, while the freezer was hovering somewhere around zero.

How I survived I'll never know. I like to think of it as a character building experience. And McDonald's got a freezer curtain installed rather competently by a high school kid for the princely sum of $3.85/hour.

That meant I got to catch the front end of the performances from London (Sting singing Money for Nothing with Dire Straights and U2's set of which Bad had to be the highlight), and then the massive finale in Philly once I got back from work.

In any case, stop by Levi's place for your shot at the DVD.

For fans of what the late unlamented 99.1 WHFS-FM never was, and could never be again (wrap your head around that), check out 97 WOXY-FM.

Looks like I picked the right day to bring my new headphones to the office.

Thanks to Missy Schwartz for the pointer.

In a review of the iPod Shuffle MP3 player, Rob Pegoraro uncorks a little bit of truth that made me smile:

And unlike most competitors, the Shuffle isn't sold in a "blister-pack" that will maim you when you try to open it.

For those of you who might want to change that state of affairs, start by reading here.

Well, not really. But now at least we know where the body is buried.

Thanks to reader Beau Dure for the link.

I just had to share this catchy little song called Ikea (lyrics) by Jonathan Coulton:

So rent a car or take the bus
Lay your cash down and put your trust
In the land where the furniture folds to a much smaller size
Billy the bookcase says hello
And so does a table whose name is Ingo
And the chair is a ladder-back birch but his friends call him Karl

For all you Podcasting fans, you can download the song on the here for the whole library of his songs.

You have to love some of the headlines Drudge writes:

Now, when I first read that, it conjured up a vision of Tom Jones screaming, "I WILL NOT BE TRIFLED WITH!" at Donald Rumsfeld.

Aw, aw baby, yeah, ooh yeah, huh, listen to this
Spy on me baby use satellite
Infrared to see me move through the night
Aim gonna fire shoot me right
Aim gonna like the way you fight
And I love the way you fight

I'm sure Condoleezza Rice was bummed at the decision.

For a sample, click here (Windows Media required).

Here in Washington yesterday, a lot of local music fans got a surprise when alt-rock pioneer WHFS was pulled off the air in favor of a Spanish Language pop format.

One reporter called the move, "shocking," but just how shocking could it really have been when it was only a year ago that Long Island alt-rock outlet WLIR was erased in favor of another Spanish language station.

I'm not sure why this is such a surprise, as the sort of folks who listened to WHFS most often were the same sort of people who bemoaned the national homogenization of radio (me included) -- exactly the thing that finally choked the life out of the station, and contributed to its demise. So for most of its former fans, the WHFS they came to love died a long time ago.

These people are pretty easy to spot in the D.C. area, as we're permanently jacked into our MP3 players.

Here's a thought: What are you talking about when you refer to the "Old WHFS"? Do you mean the Damian Einstein pre-auto accident era? Or is it the station's "progressive rock" roots? Maybe you just pine for the days of Weasel's "My Three Songs," Gina Crash and the daily Planet of the Apes singalong? Or even the days when the HFStival was at Lake Fairfax Park, and the DJs would complain that the Washington Post wouldn't ever cover the concert?

As for the local music scene, the Black Cat and the 9:30 Club will still sell out. And besides, when was the last time anyone significant was broken on WHFS? These days, a band like that is just as likely to reach new fans via Indiefeed or a free and legal bitorrent than anywhere else.

So cry if you must. Just know that the only thing left to bury is a dried husk of a corpse that only recently realized it was actually dead.

Random thoughts from The Sporting Life:

I

G. Love & Special Sauce is the brainchild of Garrett Dutton, who wears his Philly background on both shirtsleeves. Emerging in 1994, the trio has concocted their own micro-niche musical category; a loopy stew of white-boy hip-hop, delta blues, low-octane funk, romantic crooning, harmonica jam-outs and some reggae dabbling. If you

Neo-retro.

Nu wave.

Call it whatever you want, but it

Looks like the Baltimore Orioles are going to have a court fight with heavy metal has-beens, Van Halen:

Van Halen contends in a suit recently filed in federal court in Los Angeles that the baseball team sought to have it perform the first-ever concert inside Camden Yards next month and then backed out of the deal. The band's touring company is suing the team for "at least" $2 million in damages, saying it rearranged its schedule and lost other opportunities to perform in Baltimore. The proposed deal would have paid the group $1.5 million plus 80 percent of ticket and merchandise sales for a September concert.

From the looks of it, the folks in the Orioles front office were eager to land a big act to be the first to play the baseball stadium. Unfortunately, on their latest tour, Van Halen, sans David Lee Roth or Sammy Hagar, has been averaging a little more than 12,000 fans per gig at smaller venues. Camden Yards seats 48,000.

Oops!

Link via the always entertaining, DCRTV.

CORRECTION: As it turns out, Hagar is touring with the band. My bad.

Now that I'm working in downtown Washington again, I've been reintroduced to commuting to work by bus and train, an experience I haven't enjoyed since I decided to follow the Internet boom to the suburbs back in the late 90s.

All of a sudden, I have all this time on my hands -- time I used to spend fighting with traffic on the Beltway. Luckily for me, I just unpacked my Mac that contains my music library and finally fired up the iPod I purchased last December.

Needless to say, the commute goes rather smoothly now that my entire music collection travels with me in my pants pocket -- a welcome relief from the wasteland that is Washington radio. Most mornings, I just slip on the train, lean up against the railing near one of the doors, and lose myself in my music -- with an occasional pause to skip around inside my library.

Which is exactly what I was doing this morning when one of my fellow commuters broke one of the unwritten rules of our guild: do not make unnecessary eye contact. I was perched in my usual spot by the door, and he was a couple of rows away reading a magazine and chuckling.

No problem as far as it goes -- it might have been a little weird, but it wasn't like he was creeping me out. So I just looked away.

After which he promptly motioned to me with his hand, and raised the magazine so I could see the cover.

Thanks to Stephen Metclfe of Slate for putting into words the uncomfortable feeling I've had since I bought Wilco's much overhyped CD, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot (YHF):

To a listener accustomed to Hootie and the Blowfish, Wilco sounds like the Minutemen

There is a line that it takes 10 years to have an overnight success in Hollywood. Irish born, Scottish based Snow Patrol prove that can also be the case in the music industry. Formed in 1994, but didn’t issue their first release, Songs for Polar Bears until four years later, with When It’s All Over We Have to Grow Up coming in 2001. Their early work drew comparisons to Badly Drawn Boy and was met with ho-hum reviews—even tagged a second rate Belle & Sebastian.

SIDEBAR: If I were in a band and you said that to me, I’d have to fight you on the spot. Belle & Sebastian are purveyors of the schmaltziest Britpop I think I’ve ever heard.

Saved from the record label scrap pile, A&M picked them up off waivers, and with the help of the stellar production of Garret Lee, have delivered a long-time-coming breakthrough. Their latest, Final Straw is huge in England and just had its stateside IPO. Quietly, they have gotten NEXT BIG THING status from Blender magazine.

A glorious blend of melodic acoustic and striking electric guitars, pounding drums that lean closely towards The Doves and The Stills. Gary Lightbody’s yearning, yet restrained, vocals bare an almost eerie resemblance to Lou Barlow of Sebadoh/Folk Implosion fame. Snow Patrol can pull off a few memorable lyrics, but they are mostly straight forward and leave little to the imagination. A tremendous emotional component runs through their music and near the end of the disc they venture a little to close to weenie rock, but that’s nitpicking.

With the previous success of a certain band that plays cold, the promotional dollars A&M that is already putting behind the band, some more favorable press and a nice run through MTV’s tight video rotation, and Snow Patrol could really be somebody after all this time.

SIDEBAR: The 9:30 Club is unquestionably the best venue to see a band like this. My only complaint is that that there is no bar within walking distance to pre and post game at. Well, thankfully that has changed with the recent opening of DC9. Only two blocks away and a perfect spot with tons of space, excellent DJs and even live music on some nights. Sometimes they have the band that just played at the 9:30 Club guest DJ late night. Put that in your hard drive and burn it.

It takes some stones to open a show with a song called, “Wow.” But not only did they have me at hello, they set a tone for a great introduction to American audiences. And these are guys are by no means “weenies,” they throw down garage rawk style. The first five songs were fantastic and when they played Final Straw opener, “How to Be Dead” (which has the same instant classic quality as Coldplay’s “Yellow), I jokingly said to my friend, “Is that it, is it over now? How can they top that?”

The answer came immediately—and I could say in delicious form, except that would end up being the worst pun in this history of music reviews—with “Chocolate” a pulsing, heartfelt rocker. As the show wore on, I kept thinking that if Coldplay has streaked to global star status off of a few singles, then these guys could rule.

The crowd was at about 2/3 capacity and seemed to be captivated by what they were seeing, perhaps realizing how fortunate to be at a show before the band breaks. The response was attentive and enthusiastic—new tracks, “Run,” “Spitting Games,” and “Gleaming Action” getting the best reaction.

Having peaked so early, I kept wondering if and fearing that the show might disintegrate into sensitive ballad hell. As it turned out, not a bad track in the set. The sprawling “Ways & Means” was a highlight near the end and they worked in some older material, “Black & Blue” and “TLF” to round things out for an extremely satisfying performance.

Is Snow Patrol the best thing I’ve heard or seen lately? Not really.

Could they really be the NEXT BIG THING? Absolutely.

I can’t rightfully say that I’ve been cheated all these years, because I’ve known about Guided By Voices for a long time. But I’ve ignored them, mostly because—for whatever reason—I was never compelled to investigate them, even though I knew they were considered important by indie rock critics and purists. Although, I’m quite sure I would have taken a listen to them if I ever got one of those endorsements from a friend who knows your tastes like he knows his own and says, “There is a band that you absolutely have to hear.” And that would have been good enough. I have been on countless exchanges, giving and receiving, of new musical nuggets. That is exactly how I found out about two of the best debut records I’ve ever heard from The Stone Roses (thank you, Dave L) and Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (thank you, Jon C), where I turned right around and spread the word like it was gospel. Yet, GbV never came up in conversation, so the all-important word-of-mouth enlightenment (blame you, Rik F and Kevin E) never came.

So I had seen that GbV had released a greatest hits compilation and decided it was time to see if this was something I would like. After I stop patting myself on the back for what a great decision that was, I’ll say that this collection spans 32 songs ranging from 1987-2003. Take a look at those dates again (and just about half my life, now that I think about it). That’s a remarkable span of longevity for a band that very few people have even heard of, let alone supported. Come to find out they have released 17 full length albums and a couple of live recordings.

I’ve already said that I wasn’t cheated of knowing about their presence due to my own ignorance, but I still feel cheated. Their sound is right in my “wheelhouse” as they say. How could this happen? I can hear their influences (Husker Du), just as easily as I can hear their influence (The Strokes). I live for this type of rock music. And it’s taken this long to discover their brilliance? Completely unfair.

GbV are both torch carriers and passers of the lo-fi indie rock flame. They don’t have the random explosive bursts of noise like Sebadoh, they have tighter song structures than Built to Spill, not as deliberately quirky as Pavement or as self-idulgent as Sonic Youth. Instead they have strong traces of all, except with a more straightforward, charged, tuneful approach. Mostly, their songs are quick, fast and in a hurry, with the ability to slow it down to a murky ambling and then drive it up to a galloping romp.

As obvious as stating the sun will come up (tomorrow), GbV prove that two guitars are, indeed, better than one. Robert Pollard’s vocals aren’t exactly remarkable, but they’re distinctive enough and fit the music just fine. Almost no song goes more than three minutes and none of them are particularly radio friendly, however songs like “Glad Girls,” “Surgical Focus,” “The Best of Jill Hives” and selected others could have amounted to something outside of college radio, where they were regarded as heroes. But that would require commercial radio to pay attention to the underground and break an undiscovered gem, but that’s just simply asking too much from one of the worst run industries in the entire planet Earth.

As I’ve read up on the band, I’ve seen reviews that said their albums were inconsistent. I couldn’t even begin to suggest a best album of theirs to try, but I can say that from the tracks on this compilation that their best work is on the more recent recordings. But for now, this greatest hits package is an ideal starting point to get familiar with a band that has deserved more exposure than they’ve gotten to date.

With attention overdue, it’s my obligation to bang the drum for Guided By Voices. Whether you like icons like the Pixies or upstarts like The Vines, it is time to pay some respects to a group that never got its proper ovation.

Just a few notes about guest blogger and culinary expert, Scott Frank. Before Scott ever started blogging here, he was part of the crew that produced the entertaining e-newsletter, That Sports Thing. It's since been turned into a proto-blog, and is well worth your time.

Before Scott got into the PR game, he was a DJ, and like John Cusack's character in High Fidelity, he's got himself a new gig. You can find him on Sunday nights at JoJo's, a club/restaurant at 1518 U Street, N.W. about a block from Local 16. Once the Soprano's is done around 10:00 p.m., you can chill out with Scott, some electronica, trip-hop and the like. Stop by and say hello if you're in the hood.

Yeah Yeah Yeahs: I’m admittedly late to the Yeah Yeah Yeahs art punk party scene. And from what their live shows sounds like, it must be quite a spectacle. Lead singer, Karen O leads them on a caustic, frantic, spasmodic traverse. Fueled by her primal yelp that moves from a sinister Siouxsie Sioux sneer towards a softer Chrissie Hynde purr, the band throws together a rather repetitious collection of 11 songs for their full length debut, Fever To Tell. The disc has some true high points like the fantastic opener, “Rich,” “Y Control” and current single, “Maps.” Unfortunately, the whole thing is a bit haphazard. Some of their guitar rifts and vocal cadences seemed to be lifted directly from their influences, other times they seem like their production was done by amateur hacks. There is a fine line between going for deliberate minimalism and just being sloppy. Best enjoyed in short spurts.

Elbow: I’ve read some hype and favorable comparisons to the sweeping grandiosity of Radiohead and Spiritualized and after buying their 2nd release, A Cast of Thousands, I can only surmise that these blokes from Manchester are the wet mop of Britpop. Elbow might as well be Spandau Ballet meets the Counting Crows. With the exception of, “Fallen Angel,” a chugging, guitar driven bright spot, the rest of the album is a morose collection of boring and limp ballads. Heavy on the emotional wrenching, singer Guy Garvey actually says, “pull my ribs apart/and let the sun shine in.” Absolute dreck. This is quite possibly one of the worst CDs I have ever purchased.

Norah Jones: Not one to break new music, VH-1 makes up its video playlist that reflects album sales and radio airplay. Credit is due to the hit pandering network for introducing Norah Jones long before commercial radio caught on and eons before she ruled the 2003 Grammys. I stopped in my tracks the first time I happened upon the video for “Don’t Know Why”—a wonderful, seductive voice, great song…and just look at her. Right then I decided that Norah Jones is an angel sent straight from heaven.

With its gentle mix of piano-based jazz, subtle blues, acoustic guitar noodling and breathy vocals, her debut CD, Come Away With Me, sold an astonishing 18M copies worldwide. By no means a pop record, it was a little bit country and virtually no rock n roll. Her music sort of defies categorization, it’s soothing, wistful, nocturnal, remarkably peaceful and overwhelmingly pleasant. Comfort food for the ears.

Sticking to the formula of her previous work, although mixing more originals with covers and providing her own lyrics overtop of Duke Ellington’s “Melancholia” for the disc’s final track, “Don’t Miss You at All.” Opening with the Jones-penned, “Sunrise” Feels Like Home is a slightly more sophisticated follow-up, but just as engaging.

Not a spot light seeker, no diva posturing, just an extraordinary, understated talent. I am in love with Norah Jones.

Flying under the radar of the under-the-radar bands like Interpol, BRMC and The Walkmen, The Stills are a relatively unknown Montreal quartet and have recently released their debut, Logic Will Break Your Heart. They are yet another entry in the indie rock renaissance, although more jangle pop than garage rawk. Much closer in sound to the shoegazing Doves than the raucous Hives.

The disc’s opening track, “Lola Stars and Stripes” is perfectly immediate and within the first 8 seconds it’s obvious these guys can make fine guitar rock. Most of the songs have a shining energy and some meander through subtle chord changes that make you wonder how they pluck those strings with only 5 fingers per hand.

Like their indie peers, it’s not hard to detect the strong influence of classic British alternative bands. “Changes Are No Good” switches between sounding like a New Order song from Brotherhood and Technique. “Still In Love Song” has a swirling bass line that recalls Blur’s “Girls and Boys” which almost makes it into a dance track.

Repeated listens reveal similarities to Interpol, minus the Ian Curtis sounding vocals and mostly cloudy forecast, that might not have been as obvious the first time around. The major difference being in how Interpol’s emotional weight takes their songs into a dark, smoky room with the curtains drawn, The Stills manage to keep things upbeat, even when they tackle heart-wrenching subject matter. Maybe it’s the snappy drums or the fact they will unleash just enough guitar fury whenever it seems bleakest that give off a more positive, sunny outlook.

Logic Will Break Your Heart doesn’t have any absolute freak-out songs, but it is sharply consistent and doesn’t try to do too much. If anything, The Stills are slightly one-dimensional at this point. They might round out and diversify their sound, but in the meantime The Stills are another fine addition to the ever-growing stable of unheralded indie rock acts.

Like fellow bloggers Jim Henley and Radley Balko, I'm completely in the tank for alt-pop rockers, Fountains of Wayne. I tripped over their album, Utopia Parkway in a Borders a couple of years back, strapped on the headphones, and was hooked right away. Besides being awfully catchy, with very smart lyrics, the album really captured what life is like in and around my old stomping grounds in the New York metro area.

Back in the Summer, the band finally released its followup, Welcome Interstate Managers, which actually got some attention -- most of it via the video for Stacy's Mom starring Rachel Hunter.

But hidden on the disc is a personal favorite of mine that's also caught the fancy of Henley, a little ditty about football called All Kinds Of Time:

He looks to the left He looks to the right And there in a golden ray of light Is his open man Just like he planned The whole world is his tonight

It's hard not to think of the Patriots' Tom Brady while listening to this, especially since the band has some New England roots to go along with its New Jersey pedigree.

If the folks at NFL Films haven't already grabbed the rights to this song, they ought to right away. It's the perfect backdrop for a season opening video montage. If Steve Sabol is reading this, give me a call, I've already got the shooting script in the can.

It's a tired refrain and one, if true, would be a travesty that my simple existence couldn't fathom. Far too many of my friends, who are all children of the 80s and fairly knowledgeable about music, bemoan the utter and complete lack of good rock music available to them. On the airwaves, yes, without question. The dearth of viable commercial radio options is a discussion for another time, or maybe never because we don't need to beat that dead horse. But that doesn't prevent great music from being made, it just makes its exposure virtually impossible.

Rock music is actually thriving, except without the massive press that accompanied the grunge movement of the early 90s. You just have to know where to look.

It pains me to no end when I talk with people who were fans of a band like The Charlatans UK who have no idea that they are still around, let alone have released 5 albums, a B-side compilation and a live concert disc since their heyday in the Madchester scene. Or the time I mentioned to a friend who I knew really loved New Order that the album they put out a couple of years ago was pretty solid, and she almost gagged saying, "New Order put out a new CD two years ago?!"

That is flat out wrong. People deserve to know these things. And I'm here to help.

If you want to find new rock music that either reminds you of bands you grew up loving or new music from those exact bands themselves, some effort is required. That means a lot of reading, searching the Web and asking around. Or you could take my word for it.

Below is a mix tape that I made after I realized I could fill up one side of a tape with songs from rock bands that all released albums in 2003 and barely got a whiff of airplay, if any at all.

1) Jane's Addiction The Riches
2) David Bowie Never Get Old
3) Joe Strummer Coma Girl
4) The Strokes Between Love & Hate
5) The Dandy Warhols I Am Sound
6) The Stills Still In Love Song
7) Ian McCulloch Stake Your Claim
The Raveonettes Chain Gang of Love
9) The Kills Wait
10) The White Stripes Just Don't Know What To Do
11) B.R.M.C. Ha Ha High Babe
12) Johnny Marr Bangin'; On

I should say that I make mix tapes with guidelines as stringent as John Cusak's self-imposed rules in High Fidelity. There are themes, a certain tempo, an almost neurotic selection of song order with fades so tight they might as well have come from a socket wrench.

Looking at this list, you can divide this tape into 3 categories.

Icons: David Bowie, Jane's Addiction, Joe Strummer (The Clash), Ian McCulloch (Echo & The Bunnymen), Johnny Marr (The Smiths)

Relatively known: The White Stripes, The Strokes

Relatively unknown: The Dandy Warhols, The Raveonettes, The Kills, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

These are not the best songs of the year, not even the best songs on the respective albums -- just proof positive that rock is not dead. Not even close.