It's a Shame About Juliana

On Friday night I boarded a time machine back to 1994 care of Evan Dando and Juliana Hatfield live in concert. Back in high school I felt like Hatfield was the only person who understood my pain. Every song she sang about low self esteem and boys who don’t ever like you enough seemed crafted for the kind of sorrow unique to 16 year old girls. Juliana and I were kindred mopers (despite the fact that she was living the dream of a successful music career and I was no where near cool enough to have a boyfriend with a drug problem.).

But that was 17 years ago and today the main draw for Hatfield/Dando was not the music (though I enjoyed rocking out the It’s a Shame About Ray as much as the next 33 year old living in deep denial about the passage of time). The point of the show was nostalgia topped with voyeurism. Dando and Hatfield were probably the power couple of college radio right before radio became completely obsolete. I say probably because back in 1993 we didn’t have gossip blogs so no one really knows the extent of their relationship which is great because instead of boring facts we can all make up salacious stories.

Here’s what we “know”. Dando and Hatfield dated for some portion of the 1990s but it didn’t work out most likely because he was very much in love with drugs. This did not stop Hatfield from pining for him for decades. Eventually Dando (in a drug fueled stupor?) married some supermodel but she apparently has only so much tolerance for crack smoking and last year they divorced. Dando presumably thought to himself, “Whatever loser, that one girl Juliana will always love me. Also it has been about 15 years since I even tried to make any cash and I am totally out of beer money.” Then he called up Hatfield and asked her to go on a tour and obviously she has not bothered to go to any therapy in the last 20 years because she agreed.

I owed it to my Hatfield obsessed former self to pay the totally affordable $15 ticket price for this concert and I owed it to my train wreck fascinated current self to cover the ridiculous ticket fees (which were actually not so bad since the concert venue used reasonable ticketweb not EVIL Ticket Master).

Friday’s show was everything I had hoped and feared. They played all of the awkward autobiographical songs that each wrote about the other and the audience squirmed and raised their eyebrows with glee over sharing the inside joke live and in person. (If you subscribe to my made up history (and I think most fans do) it is possible that every song that Hatfield ever wrote was about Dando. Evan? Duh. Choose Drugs? Obviously. Everybody Love me but You? Cool Rock Boy? Her entire discography is like an all Dando heartbreak-fest.)

Juliana spent the interim between each tune bemoaning how bad her songs were compared to Evan’s which predictably resulted in the audience yelling out We Love Yous. Whether this behavior was all an extremely elaborate contrivance to transport the whole room back to the self hatred of high school is unclear but it was certainly effective. Eventually Hatfield sang Evan (“Evan, I just love you I guess”), stole the set list and walked off stage in a (fake?) huff while Evan himself stuck around for a few more tunes. If they were acting the scene was superb if they weren’t it was insane.

It turns out that I am no longer charmed by prolonged wallowing any more than drug addiction. The tragic flaws that I once found painfully endearing now just seem like false depth. I love the girl I was at 16 but I am so glad not to be her any longer and perhaps I hate my 16 year old self just enough to take it all out on Hatfield. Not being the girl who mopes over guys and feels inferior is a point of pride and if Hatfield hasn’t grown up with me I’m angry at her for wasting the last two decades of her life. Its bad enough to have spent all of your 20s mooning over a boy who literally chooses drugs over you but to extend that into a life long depression brings out my eye rolling. At least Evan can blame the drugs -- what’s her excuse?

Of course maybe it was all an act. Concert as performance art taken to the extreme? BRAVO. Standing in the audience I was transported. I felt uncomfortable and angry and embarrassed in a way I have not since high school. I was judgmental like only a teenager can be. And now I’m exercising my own self obsessed navel grazing by basically journalling the whole experience. Viva 1994.

Rock Stars Revisited

I am not a rock star kind of girlfriend. I do not like staying out past 1am or drinking PBR or walking in on my boyfriend and a group-o-groupies. I would never qualify for a spot on Rock of Love ("Brianna I can feel in my soul that you're here for Brett but every time I invite you to a concert you not only show up fully clothed but often with a book, I'm sorry to say this but... your tour ends here."). (Aside: I would, however, make a fabulous ex-girlfriend of Brett Micheals, how much fun must those ladies be having watching his series of train wrecks? I have to assume they all gather in some suburban ranch style home to watch the show, sangria in hand, and celebrate what could have been but (thankfully) was not. That sounds like the kind of good time I could get into.). But despit how obviously unsuited I am to be the first lady of rock I cannot help but nurture my rock star boyfriend fantasies (yes, still, despite claims to the contrary).

What does it say about me that I can't help but swoon at the boy with the guitar? Ever since Jordan Catalano started wearing eye liner and getting chubby for movie roles (and, ironically, since he joined a band) I haven't had a really all consuming crush on your average Hollywood heartthrob. Oh sure I think Sayid on Lost is rather dreamy in a bad ass way, and I would sleep with Chuck from Gossip Girl just to say I had but truthfully all of my wet dreams are about rock stars.

The only time I've seriously considered the possibility of cheating on G was at the Drive By Trucker's show I went to in November. Somehow my friend and I were offered back stages passes (normally I'd concede that "somehow" translates to "because we were dressed like the girls most likely to get on our knees" but, perhaps ironically, this wasn't the case -- the place was teeming with girls in mid drift baring tops and we were all corduroys and light jackets). As I gazed up at Patterson Hood's crotch while he rocked his way through some song or other I caught myself thinking "exactly how bad would things be with G if I slept with that dude, I mean he'd have to forgive me, right? He's a rock star!" Least you think I'm a total bitch let me say that I would have totally called G first, and explained how this was like if he met the girl version of Micheal Stipe and she was down to bang (or ok, let's be honest, even the boy version of Micheal Stipe).

Patterson Hood is not even hot . He's a schlub-y dude who may or may not be giving Christopher Walken More Cowbell in this picture but he ROCKS. I'd like to say that this proves that I am a deep soul who is attracted to men for their talents not their looks but I suspect that isn't entirely true its not like rocking has ever been my thing. If I spent my me time fantasizing exclusively about people whose music I love things might be much more George Strait than rock gods. Perhaps I just have a thing for dudes with drinking problems.

The Right Stuff

I went to the New Kids On The Block show last night not because I have any desire to relive 1991 (which, I believe, was the year Adam V said I would never have a boyfriend because I smelled bad (not true.)) but because the new kids reunion sounded as plausible and as awesome as riding the subway sans pants.

I don't remember my junior high years as being particularly New Kids heavy but perhaps I am just repressing my fandom out of a sense of self preservation since last night I had zero trouble remembering all of the words to "Didn't I Blow Your Mind this Time (Didn't I?)." In fact, I was so moved that I may even write a response number called "Obviously You Did (My Soaking Panties are Proof)." The band was.... good? I don't know. It was certainly the most *enjoyable* concert I've been to in forever but that's probably mostly because they kept doing crazy shit like wearing more than one hat at once or wondering out loud why so few dudes accompanied their woman to the show or PULLING DOWN THEIR PANTS. In comparison to NKOTB he majority of concerts I attend are seriously lacking in smokin' dance moves, pyrotechnics and spinning stages and while I obviously enjoy swaying wistfully to Dar Williams or bobbing my head to the Magnetic Fields I'm starting to wonder if in all my college radio coolness I've seriously missed out on the real concert gold. Perhaps I should work a little harder for tickets to Miley or the Jonas Brothers.

In other news: I have been cautiously trying out the world of twitter (and tumblr) and spent much of last night's concert obsessively poking at my iphone expressing my shock and awe to the 4 people who bother to follow me there so if you want a play by play check out my tweets! For those of you too lazy (or technophobic) to click over to twitter here are the highlights:

1. The video homage to "those we've lost" since the last time New Kids took the stage this included not only a disproportionate number of NKOTB family members (do I smell a deal with the devil?) but also shout outs to Tupac and Kurt Cobain both of whom I'm sure were so honored to be part of the New Kids concert experience that they plan on rising from the dead to personally thank the "band"

2. The (I believe new) song in which Joey and a choir of black people encourage the listeners to have high self esteem. Those of us who paid $50 for nose bleed seats to see a boy band from 1991 even though we are 30 years old especially appreciated this attempt to distract us from reality.

Dear Pandora Part 2 (Now You're Just Being Stupid)

I'm sitting at my desk, grooving on some Hold Steady (and by grooving I mean occasionally bobbing my head and perhaps biting my lip and nodding a bit when they play Chips Ahoy but not ever actually doing anything that might be categorized as dancing) when what should I see but this:

(outraged pink commentary by yours truly)

Look Pandora -- I thought we settled this shit. I agreed not to shame you by having a torrid affair with your mortal enemy and you agreed to stop acting like all of my favorite bands are Blowfish clones. Personally I've enjoyed this extended period of peace (thanks for recommending The Kamikaze Hearts!) but don't think I won't turn on the bitch face and cut you if I hear so much as one note of some stupid song about a dude crying over a football game (save that baby act for when I kick your ass at Mario Kart).

The Rock Stars Have Left The Building

I have a friend named Jill who in college used to swoon over the idea of a rock star boyfriend and we would all mock her because Jill is beautiful and silly and totally the kind of girl that boys fall head over heels in love for, but none of those boys are rock stars. They play trombone in the marching band. They love Final Fantasy. They contribute the requisite $20 a month to NPR. They do not rock. And it's just as well, Jill would hate the pretension of a real rock star boyfriend. She'd hate the wife beaters and the muscle cars and the nonchalance. And most of all she'd probably hate his music.

It's easy to see why we all deep down want a rock star boyfriend. Someone to write moony songs about how the sunlight catching in our hair makes them want to rip our panties off. Someone so passionate about life that it oozes out of him into song. Someone who looks good in leather pants. Friday night while at The Hold Steady concert I gave my friend Jason 60/40 odds on me being willing to sleep with any of the guys in the band despite having no idea what they looked like. I already half love them for their crazy ranting rock and roll so I figured they'd have to reach new heights of fug to turn me off. They were, as Jason had warned, oldish (defined as "even older than us."). One of them looked remarkably like Chuck Klosterman who we all know I'd sleep with, but not because he's hot. Yet after a few rounds of bopping around the stage and screaming into the mikes I was sold. Panties? dropped.

I didn't sleep with the band which is probably fortuitous since last night between sets Jason and I stumbled upon a disturbing truth. If you date a rock star you have to love his music. Ok, maybe not if he's just "jamming" with friends on the weekends, everyone knows that dudes who use the term "jamming" don't deserve love. But if he's in a real band that plays gigs and shit? You have to be into it. You have to go to all of his 1am Tuesday night shows at Arlene's Grocery. You have to think his fedora looks hot. You have to smile sweetly when he spends a grand of your vacation fund on a new set of bongo drums. You're thinking, no problem! Surely your boyfriend is sexy and brilliant and totally rocks, right? Unfortunately probably not, I suspect that 95% of bands suck. On top of that there are lots of good bands who I don't love regardless of their talent. In fact there are whole musical genres that I doubt I could get behind even if their most talented and sexy front man were to proposition me.

No other occupation demands so strongly that its practitioners find significant others willing to be swear devotion to their craft. If you're a lawyer you do not expect your boyfriend to sit in the courtroom swooning at your every objection. Professor's girlfriends are never asked to listen attentively to recorded lectures. None of my former boyfriends have been caught beating off to my project plans.

After thinking this through I'm shocked that rock star boys have any luck at all when it comes to matters of the heart. Since it is well documented that only 5% of bands are legitimately worth listening to (See paragraph 3) one has to assume that most girlfriends of rockers are either delusional or liars and since I am neither I now happily lay down the dream of the rock star boyfriend.

The South Rises Again

A month ago when a friend invited me to the Drive-By Truckers concert I thought, "I like you, I like music, there will probably be a bar at the venue and I'm generally pro doing things -- Sure!" I had only vaguely heard of the band and had exactly one of their songs in my music collection obtained years ago as part of an elaborate online song recommendation game that one is apt to get involved in when one is unemployed and generally starved for excitement (and when one has such a liberal definition of exciting things to do that "downloading new music" somehow makes the cut). I am a big believer in concert prepartying so to properly prepare for the impending live music event I purchased a DBT cd (Southern Rock Opera) and added them as a station on Pandora. I did a lot of listening but I wasn't really sold on the band -- they seemed ok, rocky, fun, etc but as far as I could tell very few of their songs were about girls dumping them and the crippling depression that followed so I was understandably skeptical about my ability to fall in love. On the plus side the album tells one long story about Lynard Skynard and life in the south and I do love a good theme. (so much so that I preceded the concert with a southern meal at the Delta Grill where I had fried okra and jambalaya and bourbon and ginger ale -- probably the best preparty concert prep ever).

Perhaps it was the thematic alcohol consumption talking but the live show was so amazing that despite all preshow indications to the contrary I totally want to sleep with everyone in the band (even the woman, even though she sort of has a thematic but not so attractive mullet). The band is somehow capable of pulling off without irony rock and roll moves that should be hilarious, especially to a cynical, dance challenged, emotionally walled off girl like me. They're doing the face to face, crotches close together, leaning way back guitar rocking last seen at a Guns N Roses concert in 1998. They're picking up the mike stands and spinning them over their heads and playing their guitars on their knees. At one point a band member walks around the stage pouring Jack Daniels whiskey down the throats of the other band members while they play their instruments. I really should have been laughing and rolling my eyes but instead I was kind of rocking out in my own little awkward half dancing while leaning against the wall because I am too cool/embarrassed to move any body part except for my hips way.

It wasn't just the band that left me wishing for a 40 of PBR, a belly shirt and my very own double wide -- their fans are pretty convincing in their own right. The 55 year old bearded redneck in front of me was entertaining enough in his jumping up and down fist pumping glory that I could have been happy watching just him for 2 hours. Least you think this fellow stood out let me assure you that at least half of the audience appeared to have been imported from 1973 rural Alabama -- I was lost in a sea of full beards, flannel shirts, leather jackets and well worn Wranglers. Every set ended not only with a cacophony of applause but also a sea of cell phone tributes (sadly even in Hicksvillle circa 1970 this seems to have replaced the lighter homage) and devil horns held high. This was a very devil horn friendly crowd. I had to wonder where in New York City these folks hang out during daylight hours, or what neighborhood they live in -- is there a high rise full of time traveling hillbillies with a garage full of Harleys hidden somewhere in the city? I ultimately decided that it might be best that I stay in the dark about the secret biker hangouts since I have no hope of keeping up with their drinking even if they'd let my irony stained ass inside.

The highlight of the show for me was the song "Hell No I Ain't Happy" probably because it is the most cynical song on their roster. Trucker's lead singer Patterson Hood (seriously, awesome southern name there buddy, way to stay on theme) throws his arms out in crucification stance and belts out the title line and like any good singer the message is so much more than the words. "No, I'm not happy and you are an idiot for thinking I might be and double an idiot for thinking life can ever be rolled up into a ridiculous label like 'happy.' Fuck you." And yet through all of that Hood was pretty fucking happy. And so were the seas of angry looking bastards surrounding me. And so was I.

I Suppose Blow Jobs Are a Form of Cleaning

All day at work I listen to Pandora usually on quickmix so that George Strait plays right after the Hold Steady and I can continue to live under the belief that I cannot be pigeon holed with genre even though in reality I am actually very easy to peg as I'll listen to pretty much any song with coy lyrics about love. Especially if the love is doomed. Double especially if the song is kind of silly. This is why I love Liz Phair by Weston and I'm All Yeah and She's all No by The Mr. T Experience and it's why when yesterday Pandora played a song called "The Chelsea Hotel Oral Sex Song" by Jeffrey Lewis I immediately had to own the tune in order to play it over and over again in the annoying teenaged way I'm wont to do. Sadly, I had a lot of difficulty finding a source for the song online (partially because any search for the title gets you about 7000 porn references) I've been trying to buy more music from Amazon.com instead of iTunes because their files are DRM free but alas -- no illicit oral sex was available there, nor on a number of.... shall we say "less expensive" sources so to iTunes I once again turned. And iTunes was happy to sell me the song... except.... they only had a "clean" version. Which was puzzling as this is a song ABOUT BLOW JOBS which contains the awesome line "If I was Leonard Cohen or some other song writing master I'd know to first get the oral sex and write the song after." How do you clean that up? (If I was Leonard Cohen or some other song writing master I'd know to first get the intimate kissing and write the song after." ? ). With no other song sources presenting themselves and me becoming impatient for new tunes at 10::00pm and my curiosity peeked I went in for the $.99 clean experiment. Turns out "clean" means "totally still exactly the same as the dirty version." I can only hope evangelical parents everywhere are outraged.

My friend Bob this morning found the following awesomeness for me and even though the video quality is less than great I still think I've found a new boyfriend.

If You Don't Know Me by Now

Last week I started rating all of the songs on my iPod. This obsessive behavior was inspired by my friend Joe who has rated all but 150 of his roughly 800,000 iTunes songs. He has also memorized all of his credit card numbers and is, frankly, my hero. Considering my love for organizing things it is surprising that it has taken me 3+ years of iPod ownership to get around to ratings but now that I’m here I cannot express how excited the act of assign stars makes me. Or, more accurately, how happy the idea of having every song successfully categorized and filed away makes me. I can't help but fantasize that this little act combined with the ambitious closet reorganization campaign that I kicked off in October will right all of the wrongs in my life.

It is very difficult for me to give any song a rating of less than 3 out of 5 stars. At the thought of a 2 I end up feeling guilty as if the artist will find out and be irreparably hurt by this affront to their masterpiece and often I just bail out by skipping the song entirely. Conversely, if I love a song it becomes super easy to assign 4 or 5 stars to it and I am pathetically predictable when it comes to certain bands. When I review my top rated tunes it appears that Rhett Miller could record himself farting and burping on a loop for 45 minutes and I’d slap a 4 on it while thinking, “Hmmm maybe this is a 5, I mean that second toot really spoke to me and also someday Rhett might see this list and be so flattered that he’ll have no choice but to sleep with me and probably fall in love and leave his wife which will be a little sad for him but all happy for me.” I am also somewhat concerned by the gender disparity in my elite 4/5 group. Much as I feel a little embarrassed for liking Obama better than Hilary I can’t quite come to terms with consistently loving John Darnielle more than Lucinda Williams. On the plus side, my grandparents can probably put to rest all concerns about my sexuality.

I am tempted to claim that rating all of my music has made me more aware of what I listen to but that would mostly be a lie. I constantly micromanage my shuffle because deep down I am a part of the generation (or likely, generations since I think this applies to everyone who came of age post 1960) that believes that my preference for Rilo Kiley over Wilco is somehow indicative of a greater truth. Despite all my left brained “I heart logic” bravado I am a huge believer in the mix tape school of love. While I get a little geeky jolt upon placing any old stuff into categories and have many times considered projects like alphabetizing my refrigerator contents and color coding my underwear drawer the true, embarrassing, teen angst-y goal of rating all of my music is to put myself into a category and hopefully by doing this somehow communicate who this self is. I am in the "adores tough guys singing about broken love” category, the “finds it endearing when white boys pretend to be all gangsta” category, the “enjoys a good war anthem” category. All of the song categorization is really just preparation for show and tell. I feel a need to quantify which songs I like best so that friends and, most importantly, boys who I have a crush on can take a look at my top rated tunes and make sense of who I am so that, hopefully, I don’t have to explain anything. They can look at my shoe collection too if that’ll help, I find the blue flats with the miss-matched yellow spirals on them to be particularly revealing. It probably seems very twenty first century American of me to hope for my material purchases to add up to who I am (my shrink would have had a field day if I hadn’t dumped her expensive ass when she just didn’t get me and didn’t seem at all interested in forgoing our sessions in favor of a playlist), but in actuality I feel like I have no more accurate place to turn. I like to think I excel at explaining how web applications and cookie dough and reality television should work but I feel almost completely at a loss when it comes to explaining me. There is obviously much irony in the fact that someone with a desire to be known without explanation has devoted years to a writing project all about herself.

Yesterday the same friend who inspired my song categorization and will soon have me doing credit card memory drills in the shower told me that there exists a piece of software which can use the built in web cam on your standard issue Mac Hipster Machine to read the ISBN from your books and categorize them on a virtual shelf. This alone might be reason enough for me to convert to the cult of Apple because I very much want my book collection categorized and searchable. I want to point to one place and say “THIS is what I read and this is what’s important to me so if you care at all about getting in my pants you best BONE UP.” (also please ignore the disproportionate number of Dave Barry books – it was a phase.). Perhaps the most ridiculous aspect of this unconventional approach to communication is that I feel that if only I could get some floppy haired boy to really look at my collection he'd be all but disarmed. It seems obvious that no one could see my “Dad’s Who Really Love Their Daughters” songs or the small menagerie of “Food-centric History" books on my shelf and not fall in love with me.

In my iTunes library there are currently 24 5s out of 142 rated songs out of 2924 files(I have a lot of work ahead of me), for those of you looking to take on the challenge of unraveling this riddle here they are (unsurprisingly, in alphabetical order by artist and then by album).

Everything I Love – Alan Jackson
Someday - Alan Jackson
Evening Gown – Alejandro Escovedo
Rocking the Suburbs – Ben Folds
The Luckiest – Ben Folds
Falling Down Blue - Blue Rodeo
Red Right Ankle – The Decemberists
Chips Ahoy – The Hold Steady
You Can Make Him Like You – The Hold Steady
Texas Trilogy: Bosque County Romance -- Lyle Lovett
Fruits of My Labor – Lucinda Williams
Pink and Blue – The Mountain Goats
Color in Your Cheeks - The Mountain Goats
Have to Explode – The Mountain Goats
Melt Show - The Old 97s
Lonely Holiday – The Old 97s
Salome – The Old 97s
Rollerskate Skinny – The Old 97s
Making Love with You– The Old 97s
Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes – Paul Simon
Under African Skys - Paul Simon
The Deep South – The Promise Ring
If I Could -- Storyhill
The Great Divide - Storyhill

City Songs

On Sunday Peter of PeterDeWolf.com made the huge mistake of leaving a comment on my blog indicating that he loves theme based mix tapes (ok, fine, cds. FINE, playlists but I won't pretend to like that magic-less nomenclature.). Seeing an opportunity for free music AND the chance to disappointingly write about music for the second time in one month I jumped on him with the request for some theme based music trading. And (likely mistake number 2) he agreed. Fool! Barely 24 hours later I had the following collection of songs with cities in their title delivered to my inbox

Bobcaygeon -- The Tragically Hip
Newcastle Jam -- Crowded House
Kreuzburg -- Bloc Party
Atlantic City -- Bruce Springsteen
Rio -- Daran Duran
New York's Not My Home -- Jim Croce
Jackson -- Johnny Cash and June Carter Cash
Luckenbach, Texas -- Waylon Jennings
L.A. Woman -- The Doors
New Orleans Is Sinking -- The Tragically Hip

You'll immediately notice that Peter totally cheats.

My first issue was with the song called Bobcagen but while at first I thought this was some Canadian word likely having to do with maple syrup processing or beavers it turns out to be the name of a town (though notable a town that even the (presumably Canadian) guy on the intro has never heard of) and since I come from a place that insists on calling itself a city despite having only 4000 human inhabitants I’m apt to let a lot of things slide. It helps that of the 5 new songs on the list this was by far my favorite.

The second cheater issue is that Peter includes 2 songs by the same band. This was not an explicit rule for the creation of this mix but I was fairly certain the all reasonable people knew that mixes have a MIX of artists. Peter tried to defend his behavior using the following pathetic excuse, “But it’s The Tragically Hip!” Which is Canadian for “but it’s AC/DC” which is Australian for “My country only has one famous band” (cue half of Canada calling me names -- save it folks, I am actually a huge fan of your country's contributions to auditory stimulation and I'm not even mad about the Celine Dion thing.).

There are 4 songs on this list that are songs that I forgot that I loved which means that I spent most of my listening time rewinding (fine, clicking the little back arrow) and thinking "Oh my god I DO want to move to Luchenbach and raise some fine youngin's and then maybe dress up like a bird of paradise and take a side trip to the Rio Grand and dance on a keg in some bar to make my husband jealous!"

Of the remaining 6 remaining tunes I already knew and sort of liked "Atlantic City" (though it's no "Thunder Road") and I'm sure I had heard "L.A. Women" at some point in the past and generally found it too much like the kind of song the fake stoner in the WASP-y frat loved. I was surprised to like Kreuzburg and I can tolerate Newcastle Jam and New Orleans Is Sinking. I know that come some dreary day in February when the subway smells particularly bad and the streets feel particularly harsh I will be very glad to have New York Is Not My Home to commiserate with.

Peter tells me that NaBloPoMo posts are supposed to suck. Thank God. One more day.

Now Playing

How many posts does it take for Brianna to run out of blog ideas? 12. I downloaded some new ipod filler this weekend and writing about it is my only blog back up plan so in this post I’m am going to once again attempt to write about music – this should be amusing because despite being super passionate about music all of my attempts to write about it come out as “Isn’t this song pretty? Here, let me quote the lyrics for you…. Awesome, right?!?!”

This post should also serve as evidence that I am no longer cool (I refuse to admit that I was never cool) since all of the songs that I bookmarked in Pandora over the last month are either 35 years old or by artists that I discovered in college. Right now a couple of the hip young kids from work are reading this and losing all respect for me. Luckily this posting everyday thing will soon drive me to baking which should win back the love of all coworkers.

So on that note let’s review my current playlist.

Chips Ahoy – The Hold Steady

I’ve been stalking The Hold Steady since I found out they were playing a concert with The Old 97s and deemed them cool by association (If Rhett Miller bought a case of Diet Coke Plus I’d be drinking it all day too). I actually purchased the entire Hold Steady album, “Boys and Girls in America” which is superb as a whole but this is by far my favorite song. Listening to the Hold Steady reminds me a bit of listening to The Promise Ring’s Very Emergency or something by Cake. This song in particular is happy and bouncy and the perfect pace for my walk to work and on top of that the line, “How am I supposed to know that you’re high if you won’t let me touch you?” is super hot.

Happy Kid – Nada Surf

This song is only 4 years old so I feel pretty good about only discovering it now. 2003 was a good year – Britney has yet to completely ruin her life, we had hope of avoiding a second George W term, Christmas promised another installment of The Lord of the Rings instead of the end of Paul Giamatti ’s career. Who wouldn’t want to go back in time?

Afraid of Nineveh – Gosling

This song is my only hope for saving my cool since the album came out last year and I can’t even find the lyrics online – and we all know that unknown band = indie cred.

For an atheist I have quite a love for gospel music (ala Gillian Welch) and Bible based songs in general. This song is about Jonah and the whale which the band turns into a great allegory for growing up.

Truly Great Thing – Sebadoh

You remember Sebadoh -- they were popular in 1993? They got included in Mary Lou Lord’s His Indie World song? They are now super old and their fan base probably consists mostly of stay at home dads?

But this song is so pretty! And it’s about having a great love finally appear in your life after years of waiting! And it's pretty!

Falling Down Blue – Blue Rodeo

Blue Rodeo sounds very Lyle Lovett in this heartbreaking song about… heartbreak. The lead singer, Jim Cuddy has a gift for filling his voice with pain and it works so well with the subtle twang on this song. Pretty pretty pretty.

Steady as She Goes – The Raconteurs

Here’s another album that I should have bought years ago especially since it’s fronted by Jack White who I have been in love with for 6 years even though he has yet to graduate from his high school goth phase. the Ranconteurs have a more rock and roll sound that The White Stripes and while a part of me misses the simple pleasure of Meg's rhythmic drumming the full sound of this song certainly makes for a more satisfying shower serenade.

Sister Golden Hair – America

This song was last famous in 1975 so I’ve pretty much regressed to my mother’s young adulthood. I also recently thumbs-uped a Beatles song on Pandora (Paperback Writer), soon I may start smoking pot, wearing bell bottoms and reading Love Story. This song is also the 1975 version of “Yo babe, I love you but I can’t be tied down” what with the "I aint ready for the altar but I do agree there's times when a woman sure can be a friend of mine." but somehow they make it so sweet...

For a Song – Story Hill

This is the folk musician version of the “I Love the Rodeo More than You” country genre so obviously I loved it from first listen. Also I love everything that comes out of Chris and Johnny’s lips and if Jack White doesn’t want to leave his wife I would totally accept a marriage proposal from either of these guys.

Despite these recent downloads I am still in dire need of new music so if you happen to be the owner of a record review blog that you never write in anymore (Matt, this means you) perhaps you should send me some new music suggestions.

In Defence of Country Music

“I like all kinds of music! Well… except for country.’
– Every indie hipster kid on the planet.

I like country music. It feels like that statement should be followed with “its been 29 years since my last confession” or an announcement that I’m ready to enter a treatment program but you will read neither in this post. I may be biased by my upbringing (see: On My Love For Cowboys) but I believe that the 20-something upper middle class mopey bunch of bespeckled converse wearing kids that I call peers are in denial about country music. When it’s poppy and silly they call it rockabilly. Sweet and slow becomes folk. Edgy and loud is filed under americana. They pretend not to hear the twang. But good country music is still country music. And the hipster kids are wrong -- it’s often pretty awesome, and you may already like it.

This post isn’t about an easy to justify love for alternative country or the old stalwarts (though rest assured that I have plenty of love for the Old 97s and Loretta Lynn). This is about the modern, played on the radio, listen to by millions of folks in states much redder than your own country music. This is about the America that the hipsters (myself included) have often deemed themselves too good for. I worry about just how often “oh god I hate country!” really means “I’m better than everyone in Alabama.” I understand where the egotism comes from -- I know that country music has committed a lot of sins --but in addition to making us big jerks this snobbery is also causing us to miss out on a lot of really good music. Personally I doubt the ego boost is really worth it.

Sadly, finding worth listening to music from Nashville is often more difficult than getting people to comment on this blog (seriously people, step up). Radio stations seem insistent on playing lazy songs about how sad it is when cute widdle babies die, and heroes being awesome, and America kicking some ass. When music is great it is built on conflict, it causes a stir, it leaves people wondering. Everyone already loves babies and we all know that war isn’t an old western about heroes versus villains. Such songs seem trite because they are and I am no advocate for these subgenres but just as the entire catalog of rock music should not be represented by KISS, Toby Keith is not the only face of country (though really Toby shouldn’t be completely banned as the wonder of “I Should Have Been a Cowboy” and the bravado of “How Do You Like Me Now?” probably make up for the awfulness of “Courtesy of the Red White and Blue” even if that is the single worst song in the history of the entire planet). Country music is the auditory equivalent of science fiction novels. The abundance of crap on the shelves often makes it all but impossible for the gems to shine through, but the diamonds are out there in hiding, I promise.

The emo punk kids who wallow in songs about broken love and drug addiction should be the first to make an appointment to check out the blue collar side of sad. The Promise Ring ain’t got nothing on Merle, George and Lyle and while I’m being honest – they don’t have much on Garth Brooks either. Country music has perfected pain and passion and it has gotten me through many a bad breakup. While country has a reputation for being simplistic and trite the break up songs are complex and bittersweet, there’s a general recognition that love is hard and even though we all try not to fuck it up, we usually fail. On the flip side the happy lovey-dovey songs are exuberant and full of silver linings that make you want to fall into love as soon as possible. Country music, when it’s not formulaic, has great lyrics and we all know that hipsters love a good turn of phrase.

I did a lot of research for this post in the form of sitting on my couch in my underwear watching CMT. I highly recommend this activity because not only will it provide an opportunity to familiarize yourself with the modern offers of popular country music but CMT is also kind of awesome. In addition to being the home for “Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders: Making the Team” they also frequently broadcast a Fruit of the Loom commercial featuring a scene where the guy dressed as a bunch of grapes rests on the back end of a cowboy’s saddle, holding him up, supporting him, doing everything but reaching around to cup his balls. That’s some reliable underwear. I also witnessed a true winner of a video for the song “(I’m So Much Cooler) Online” which features one Jason Alexander playing a sci fi geek pretending to be a hot country music star on myspace (also making cameos are William Shatner and the former Marsha Brady as Jason's love interest). Say what you want about country music but you do not get this kind of quality programming on MTV.

I know I’m not particularly likely to change a lot of minds with this post (god knows if someone pleaded with me to give hard core rap a chance they’d have a lot of eye rolling on their hands) but those of you who feel secure enough in your coolness to take on some fiddles should get to work on the following playlist.

Brianna’s Essential List of Must Listen Popular Country

Nobody Knows Me – Lyle Lovett

Everything I Love is Killing Me – Alan Jackson

Suds in the Bucket – Sara Evans

I Can Still Make Cheyenne – George Strait

There is no Arizona – Jaime O’Neal

She’s Every Woman – Garth Brooks

Mama He’s Crazy – The Judds

Sin Wagon – The Dixie Chicks

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Third Party Resources

Country music is often not not included in music education, but it's important just the same! Kids often care more about arts and crafts than musical history, but country music is a big part of US history and it's important to embrace that part of our culture, too!

Dear Pandora

We've been friends for a long time now and even though I am still a little hurt that you chose not to respond to my past advances I've moved on and I'm really happy now. I had hoped that we could still hang out without there being any weird animosity or sexual tension but lately I'm a little worried that you are incapable of putting our past aside and working with me to develop a healthy friendship. A few times over the past few months you've choosen to act out in ways that can only be described as cruel.

I feel a little bit like I'm the butt of the internet radio version of that hilarious joke where the cute boy asks out the slightly awkward girl but when she agrees he laughs and informs her that no one wants to go out with her because she is really smart and totally funny and will absolutely be a heart breaker once she escapes the hell of 7th grade (Not his actual words. Not that I would know...). I'll be sitting at my desk, rocking out to some new band, bookmarking songs, thinking that you have been awfully nice to me today (maybe you've changed your mind about me? I have a nice bottle of red and the New White Stripes CD at home, wanna come over?) and then, when I'm feeling my best and thinking that my hair looks really good today and all the boys love me, you play a little Hootie and the Blowfish. I may not be fluent in the communication methods of music recommendation software but even the illiterate know that Hootie is an insult. I am a very upscale music listener most people haven't even heard of half of the bands that I love, I think we both know how cool that makes me. I didn't even own a Hootie CD back when they were the musical equivalent of Funyuns (hugely popular, apt to give you bad breath, devoid of nutritional content) so your behavior is particularly hurtful. But you know what? Forget about me for a moment, I'm a big girl, I can take the taunting -- How do you think this makes Blue Rodeo feel? It's their radio station that you insist on playing this crap on and it's not fair, Blue Rodeo is just a ragtag group of Canadian rockers, they don't deserve to be dragged into your little game; we both know that this is about us.

A few days ago you played a Firehouse song for me on my Lyle Lovett station. Firehouse has changed a bit in the past 17 years and is making a valiant effort to grow with their fans from "main stream rocking hair band" to "sensitive adult contemporary guys who are just edgy enough to have long hair." Regardless of which of these categories you are filing the band under they should never be played next to Lyle. Pandora, I have to question how well you know me, and frankly, if you care about my feelings at all. I thought we were close but no true friend of mine would mess with my country music boyfriend. I owned a Firehouse cassette tape back in 1989 when "Don't Treat Me Bad" was on heavy rotation over at KIIS FM so I am familiar with their particular brand of auditory assault and I am appalled that your passive aggressive behavior has devolved to the point of mocking my preteen self. I admit that I was a pretty bad ass sixth grader who was constantly playing with fire and getting burned and/or getting kicked in the face and coming back for more, luckily I've matured and if you continue to torment me I will go have a little tete-a-tete with lastfm. Do not mess with me.

Get it together or else,
Brianna

Playlist 1

In an effort to discover some new music Gillian, Alison and I recently decided to resurrect the art of the mix tape in playlist form. I was the first to finish (read: the only project manager in the group) and rather than include a standard list of songs and artists with the CD I decided to catalogue my submission here. I tried to make the cd more than a representation of my favorite songs but a collection that worked well together while still accurately representing my music library and hopefully giving the listeners some new bands to explore.

Teen for God – Dar Williams

Wish I had a God for such cynical times

This song does a great job of capturing the simplicity of religion and the desire of wanting to believe but also it’s satisfyingly silly. I love it most for the serious bit in the middle when she asks her teenage self to pray a bit for a young adult self who will have lost her faith but could really use some help from an omniscient deity. There are many things I’d like to be able to protect my younger selves from so I am drawn to the idea of asking a stronger version of me to look out for a weaker version.

Texas Trilogy: Bosque County Romance – Lyle Lovett

And Mary cooked the supper,
And Mary scrubbed the clothes,
And Mary busted horses,
And blew the baby's nose,
And Mary and a shotgun
Kept the rattlesnakes away;
How she kept on smiling,
No one could ever say.

On the surface this is a song about your standard country girl who gets pregnant at 17 and lives the boring life of a rancher’s wife. But if you listen closely Mary is a bad ass. In country songs women get to be mini superheroes a lot more often than you would think.

Satin in a Coffin – Modest Mouse

You were laying on the carpet
Like you're satin in a coffin
You said, "Do you believe what you're sayin'?"
Yeah right now, but not that often

I’m including this song because it’s so fun to listen to. The lyrics are rather basic but the beat is undeniably satisfying – whenever it turns up on shuffle I can’t help but bounce a little as a walk.

Bonnie and Clyde – Martina Sorbara

We'll pass through Prince Ed County
And I'll steal you something pretty
You'll say 'Man well aren't I lucky
I've gone and found myself a crooked lady

Martina Sorbara is somehow able to make every song she sings ooze sex, even this song which is much less jazzy than most of the other tunes on her only album.

A Man/Me/Then Jim – Rilo Kiley

For the slow fade of love
It might hit you from below
It's your gradual descent
Into a life you never meant
It's the slow fade of love

Love is hard, people never really understand each other, blah blah blah… this is probably the most accurate representation of my music library.

With My Looks and Your Brians – Mr. T Experience

So far, there's no doubt, things are working out;
between us we can cover every base.
You're cute; I'm not.
I'm sharp; you've got a certain way of spilling all over the place.

I once had a friend make fun of my love for novelty songs and I know they often seem trite but songs like this never fail to make me smile and that’s pretty awesome.

Great Divide – Storyhill

Your body is like this land
Pressed into knots just by its motion
So long untouched by human hands
So far from it’s forming ocean

Long ago a boy who I liked quite a lot introduced me to this band and I like them well enough that it almost makes up for his turning out to be a bit of an idiot.

I obsessively listened to this song while driving through Tunisia in the summer of 2001 so now a song about the Rockies leaves me nostalgic for the Sahara. I like to think about the possibility of my body being like the Rocky Mountains – would that I were that strong and menacing.

Have to Explode – The Mountain Goats

The stage is set
Someone's going to do something someone else will regret
I speak in smoke signals and you answer in code
The fuse will have to run out sometime
Something here will eventually have to explode

I cannot say enough positive things about The Mountain Goats – I’m ridiculously obsessed. I still think Tallahassee is their best album but finding on a song on it that can stand alone is difficult, I think Have to Explode pulls it off. This song captures the feelings of foreboding and helplessness that often precede a breakup it’s a beautiful little homage to pain.

When You Come Back Down – Nickel Creek

You got to leave me now, you got to go alone
You got to chase a dream, one that's all your own
Before it slips away
When you're flyin' high, take my heart along
I'll be the harmony to every lonely song
That you learn to play

This the most straight forward of the songs on this cd, guy loves girl unconditionally, guy supports girls dreams, guy waits for girl. Good thing it’s really pretty and the fiddling rocks or I’d be rolling my eyes.

Too Bad About Your Girl – The Donnas

If you werw smart, you'd send her home on BART
Before the real trouble starts
'Cause who's she gonna slap when she sees me in your lap
And you say you had a change of heart

This is a fun song and listening to it let’s me pretend to be the kind of girl who goes around stealing boys from their boring dates. I also love when a song makes me feel cool for picking out the silly local reference. BART is the train system in San Francisco.

The Luckiest – Ben Folds

I don't get many things right the first time
In fact, I am told that a lot
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls
Brought me here

Pretty pretty love. This was Amy and Joe’s wedding song and it always makes me teary.

Brown Boxes – The Spinto Band

And all these brown boxes haven’t helped me move one bit
in half-empty rooms they sit,

Stay that’s where they will stay
I could never say,
I would never say,
"This is over"

This song speaks to some of the same themes as Have to Explode -- knowing that it’s over, not being able to move on. It’s shocking that a song that prominently features a kazoo could be so sad.

Kate Kelly – The Whitlams

Now you do horse tricks
In a wild west show
Sharp-shooting Kate
The Last of the Kellys
Now the queen of a rodeo

I’ve been trying to force this Australian band on my friends for years. To really appreciate this song you need to know a bit about Ned Kelly an Australian criminal and folk hero (if they want the rest of the world to quit with the convict jokes they may want to pick some more tame heroes like really tall lumber jacks and steel driving men). This song is about Ned’s youngest sister who was the last surviving member of the family and who some think partially inspired her borthers’ crime spree when a local policemen wouldn’t stop with the unwanted advanced. It’s a pretty song for so sad a subject matter.

North Dakota – Kris Delmhorst

I love North Dakota cause you have never been there
and the days go on forever and the towns all look the same
and I can ride the back roads and I can walk the main streets
and show someone your picture but they would not know your name

Kris is a mean lyricist. She used to make a habit of playing at least once a year at my college. If the music industry were really based on talent she’d be famous by now.

Big Brown Eyes – The Old 97s

Well a box of red, and a pill or three,
And I'm calling time and temperature just for some company.
I wish you were here. I wish I was too.
I'll drink myself to sleeplessness, I always do.

Oh Rhett Miller, if you ever need company give me a call. I once had a friend who was gaga over Mr. Miller and supposedly, well before I know her, was a bit of an Old 97 groupie. She never bedded the boy which is sad for both of us, I could have done with a little vicarious rock star action.