The Election

I've waited for some time to go by. It's just too easy after such a dark foreboding period of American history, one where pundits were predicting a sustained Republican majority well into the future, and one where the sitting president has all but drained the slight promise America had culled from the late nineties, to become ecstatically happy and hysterical.

For one, Obama is far from perfect. He's inexperienced and he's clearly promising things he won't be able to deliver, due to the poor state of the economy. That he never fell for the fabricated rationales for the Iraqi War (as I did) does him great credit; still, it seems unrealistic and potentially disastrous to pull completely out. I have reservations.

I also fear a Democratic majority that gets drunk on its own power and becomes stupidly hubristic, antagonizing the opposition party and doing everything it can to shut them out of power. The relief that they share with many Americans is born of bitterness and disappointment--bitter in the knowledge that two Gore terms would have had us all in a much better, less (late 19th Century-ish) regressive position, and disappointment that only now, when it is all but too late, does America repudiate Bush/Cheney. After all, what good does it do to disapprove of someone after they've already gutted you? It will perhaps be twenty years before we get back to the sort of economic prosperity we saw during the second Clinton term (if ever), and America is weaker pretty much across the entire spectrum, in nearly every category that one can conceive. And yet there is this: we are no longer sliding backward; we are no longer being looted; and with some work and discipline, several years from now we may progress towards being a more stable, sane, and dynamic nation.

But all that is yet to come. For now, we can bask in post-racist America, where yes, even a black man can be president. And Obama seems to genuinely want to inspire the best. Even during the most bitter parts of the election he never once played the race card (the Clarence Thomas "this is just a high tech lynching", etc.), and it would have been his right to do so because, no mistake, the Republicans were clearly appealing to racism. It didn't work, mainly because no matter what may be lurking underneath the dark recesses of our consciousness, the majority knows race in and of itself is an irrelevant category in judging a person's ability and quality of character. It is my sincerest hope that electing Obama has the corollary effect of kicking off a renaissance in the black community. Clearly his experience is not identical to all, but his ascent to power does indicate that now more than ever, anything is possible in America. And again, he did not win by dividing as many before him have done.

I'm disappointed, too. We beat the wrong guy. If McCain had won in 2000, America would be a better place. It's one of the greater inequities of recent history that an essentially good man like himself is defeated but that Bush/Cheney got eight years of a blank check. This would be much more satisfying if it were 2004 and we were giving those charlatans and looters the boot. Still, at least we don't have to deal with that Christo-fascist Palin as the understudy to the most powerful man in the world. My blood runs cold at the mere thought. 

The bad guys did score some substantial victories. There were three states that banned gay marriage, much to the eternal shame of us all.

Not quite an "Empire Strikes Back" kind of ending (i.e., that "we're fucked! I don't see us ever coming out of this one in one piece"), as there's much to be hopeful about. The circus is over for now. The pressing issue of the day is how we can get the economy back on solid footing. So let's all hold our collective breaths; even though Paulsen seems like a rather clueless man with $700 billion he's not sure how to blow, the Bush era is nearly over, and there's now a cap on how much destruction they can wreak.

Who knows what faces us next? One thing's for sure: we can't sink any lower than we have in the past eight years. Here's to the likelihood of American leadership that doesn't make us cringe and wince every time we see it on TV and hear it on the radio. With any luck, we'll be back in the twenty first century by the end of Obama's second term.

Some Sunday Funny

During a Sunday night recently I was reading something while watching a Packers game; Jenn pointed out that in the segue into the commerical, they played "Every Day is Like Sunday." Morrissey and the NFL--now that's just funny as hell. There's nothing that says "Football" like a British shoegaze song about hanging out at the beach in anticipation of a nuclear apocalypse...

10 October 2008: Tegan and Sara, Sokol Auditorium

Let me begin by saying that I'd seen this act before and liked them well. Jenn and I were just friends when we went up to see Ryan Adams at the 9:30 Club in 2002 in my old purple S-10. We drove three hours to the show and drove straight back to Greenville (with a nod-off at a truck stop somewhere in between). This was when I was in the midst of my alt-country phase (Ryan Adams, early Wilco, Uncle Tupelo, Graham Parsons, etc.) and I was mad for some Ryan Adams (whom I still dig a great deal--more on that another day).

It was a sit-down show. I thought that was weird, as I had been to that same venue a year before (for James Brown) and that show had been a completely different sort of scene.

So out come two bouncy girls with chippy banter and short, sharp, smart acoustic guitar songs--a nice antidote to the affected Faulknerian gloom-and-doom that was the headliner that night. Jenn left there thinking they had upstaged Ryan Adams (whom she still does not dig). I left there wanting to get their album.

Six years later much has gone down for them; now they're headlining.

The venue was pretty unique. I won't pretend to know all of the ins and outs of it, but it seemed like the proper setting for a middle school dance and with the lights dimmed it also resembled Disney's Haunted Mansion ride. There were many youngsters about (as it was an all-ages show--Ian MacKaye would have been proud), and it will shock none to know that the Y-chromosome was in short supply (with the non-gay gene being even more scarce).

The first opening act was called Girl in a Coma (apparently a nod to The Smiths). This kickass all-female trio reminded me of The Strokes, Elastica, and The Pixies. I know not what they sang, but I really enjoyed them.  Not only did they have tight propulsive songs, but these ladies had some good rock charisma. I've not heard their album, but if you have the chance to see them for a reasonable fee I'd do it (but bring the earplugs--I left mine in the car and my ears are still f*cked).

The second opener was some guy with a baseball cap and an acoustic guitar. He wasn't bad. The crowd really liked him. I wasn't really interested in hearing a confessional acoustic guitar guy, though, so I didn't really pay attention to him. Sorry. But thanks for the respite from the noise, sensitive baseball cap wearing acoustic guy!

Tegan and Sara came on and played for a little over an hour. Many of the selections were from their last two albums (The Con and So Jealous). They led off with "You Wouldn't Like Me"; other highlights from the show were "The Con," "I Bet It Stung"--one of my favorite songs by them--, and "Downtown." The performances sounded like the recordings--no spontaneous flourishes or anything, just solid competent playing. The crowd showed it was really into the show, chiming in strongly when the band played "Call It Off," which was nice. What detracted from it, though, was the asinine stage banter. I won't bore you with it, but it vascilated between patronize-your-dog type chatter (with the audience playing the dog) and what I hope was feigned conversation (surely the real deal isn't as annoying and banal) between the sisters. We left at the end of the set and didn't stay for the encore. No need, really--I had gotten what I expected from the show, which wasn't much.

I do recall reading a piece that once asked what the difference was between Ashley Simpson and Tegan and Sara, alleging that the sound of the former was strikingly close to that of the latter.  While it seemed to state a smug cynical truth, its premise was more than a bit unfair; anyone who does attend their show will readily admit Tegan and Sara represent an entirely different ethos than Jessica Simpson's little sister, though I would leave it to their diehard fans to define just what that is. Truthfully, I can point to nearly ten tunes in their catalog that hold up as brilliant pop songs, which is more than I can say for a lot of bands with comparable mainstream success.

However, for a show that was in the upper $20s, unless you are already a fan or can somehow swing it for $15 or less, I'd skip it. The things that make Tegan and Sara a jaw-droppingly strong opening act turn them into rather anemic headliners--their songs are very short and too similar to support a full rock set (even one as short as an hour), and even though there was nothing technically wrong with the show, there was nothing overwhelmingly great about it I could point to, either--no musical or improvisational virtuosity that distinguished the concert from the recordings. Basically, if you're there you probably strongly connect with the Tegan and Sara persona and that pulls you through the soft spots; if that isn't enough, you'll find yourself disappointed, but only mildly so.

Five That Got You Through...

Tell me the five cds you've listened to and enjoyed in the past five years. (I would do ten but that's a bit too lengthy to do and still be "fun.")

I'll go first:

(In no particular order)

• The New Radicals. Maybe You've Been Brainwashed, Too.
  

This CD is pretty close to being ten years old now, but I just got into it a couple of years back. Ok, if you've been alive for the past ten years you've heard "You Get What You Give." Gregg Alexander is unfairly touted as a one-hit wonder (which is not technically true, since he's written and produced hits for Michelle Branch, Enrique [sic] Iglesias, etc.), but if you've heard this album you know he could score at will. Pure pop genius: it's a shame this guy isn't cranking out his own records anymore. Think Todd Rundgreen + Hall and Oates + Mick Jagger. The lyrics seem intentionally vapid. The upbeat songs are mood-alteringly upbeat, and his ballads have the crisp wounded power of a scorned teenager. If you like bubblegum-style blue-eyed/Philly soul, you simply cannot do better than this. Only two or three weak songs--all the rest are hit out of the park.

• Morrissey. Greatest Hits.
  

Ok, I f*cking hate "greatest hits" albums and don't look kindly on the sort of scum who buy them, but the Rhino records retrospective is, begrudgingly-admittedly, the best place to start with Morrissey. To badly paraphrase a beat-to-hell cliche, "there's two sorts of people in the world: people who dig Morrissey and people who don't." Well, I am a Morrissey freak! He is to me what Elvis is to others. If you've ever been down on yourself and been able to step outside of your ego and see how ridiculous you are being and then were able to step back inside your own skin and revel at the beauty of your own melancholy and let that lush grandiose feeling of despair wash over you, well, Morrissey does that with lyrics and music. There's a good bit of clever humor to his phrasings, too, if you listen to the words--it's not just the soundtrack to pathological depression (such as a Cure album would be). After a while he repeats his own themes, so I wouldn't recommend buying every album. The ones I would get (in order of quality): Bona Drag, Vauxhall and I, and Your Arsenal. Of his albums with The Smiths (which most people actually prefer to his solo work): The Queen is Dead, Louder Than Bombs, and The Smiths. Give 'em a try at least, and if you don't like it I may still like you--I may even still love you--but you're not one of my tribe. 

• The Twilight Singers. The Twilight Singers Play Blackberry Belle
  

Ahh yeah! This is the album I've been itching to tell you about--one of my favorites of all time, and one of the albums I've kept liking for the longest--lots and lots of staying power. Let me just say you will not like this album the first two times you hear it, or rather you won't think it's anything special. Then you'll decide you like track three, "Teenage Wristband," the catchiest single that never was. It drives you and is easy and fun to sing along to. If you're driving when you hear it, you will speed. You may find yourself rolling down the windows so you can feel the breeze of the open road. Like the chorus says, you will want to go for a ride and you're gonna stay up all night. You're an invincible sixteen year old again. And as a cool postmodern touch, it has Apolonia Kotero who dueted with Prince on "Take Me With You" about going for a ride.

You then will figure out that "The Killer" is pretty chill, with its helicopter blade beat (like the PTSD Martin Sheen experienced in Apocalypse Now), its end-of-the-world romanticism ("and that's why I need ya/to catch on fire /I want ya to burn me 'til I feel it / I know you know which way to go /I want you to show me/so I can steal it..."), and even though it's not a song about your life or anything you ever experienced, or anything that makes linear sense, for that matter, you will be swept up by the impression it creates--imagery, not narrative. Impressionism. You're being seduced by Byronic soul man Greg Dulli. Don't feel bad--he's good, he's been at it for a while and you, you never stood a chance, so just give in.

As good as the album is, the stage show is so much better. Unlikely covers abound--the last time I saw 'em, they covered Massive Attack and Arcade Fire. Dulli, the former leader of a storied soul metal group from Ohio called The Afghan Whigs is into his forties now. If he resembles anything, it's this: take a Baldwin brother, one of the better looking ones, like maybe Alec. Splice him with Barry White with a bit of Elvis mixed in. That's the singer. He's not a small man, but he shimmies and makes love to his audience and somehow comes off as quite the lothario. He burns incense on stage before the show starts and lights a candleabra for you. Really.

And the mood is right, because everything's nocturnal. The first track, Martin Eden, only sounds like filler at first. It's actually an invocation: "Black out the windows/it's party time," sings Dulli while tickling the ivories before the thunder crash comes in. It's a southern hurricane. Everything's quiet 'til all hell breaks loose, with a slow build in between. 

"Estes Noches" begins with a dial tone and keeps that beat the whole song. No, it's not tedious, but it is another grower.

There are many other great tracks and I could go on and on (can you tell?), but let me just tell you you want this album. A strong album the whole way through. No real electronic flourishes, no extremely virtuoso playing, just simple arrangements that evoke mood and ambience. I can't remember exactly who said it, but one reviewer likened a Twilight Singers show to a "voodoo sex party." I don't think I can top that as a description. Bottom line: if you like your music dark, sexy, noctural, and moody, this is it. And a lot of the time you can find it in the used bin for about eight dollars! For very few know what a true gem this is. Shh...keep it a secret.

Ryan Adams Heartbreaker, Gold, Love is Hell Pts. 1 and 2, and Cold Roses
It's no secret that this guy is a major jerk. He's a drug-addled self-indulgent egomaniac (and yes, I have witnessed it firsthand on at least one occasion). Derivative? Maybe. (Listen to his latest album, Cardinology, and you can create a drinking game out of identifying how many times he bites Bono's style.) But he's also a friggin' genius. I hate Nashville country (Tim McGraw, Garth Brooks, Shania Twain, etc.) and classic country is a little too simple for me, but I dig this guy at his best: "Come Pick Me Up," "Oh My Sweet Carolina," "Call Me On Your Way Back Home," and "Sweet Lil Gal" (from Heartbreaker); "Firecracker," La Cienega Just Smiled," "When the Stars Go Blue," and "Harder Now That It's Over" (from Gold); ALL of Love is Hell, and pretty much all of Cold Roses. He takes the best elements of whiskey-drench southern rock (a genre that usually gives me the heebie jeebies) and injects some real heart and introspection into it. Bastard that he is, you will not convince me Ryan Adams doesn't have a soul. He's a bit Prince-like (in the sense that he thinks everything he records should be released as an album), so be selective. But I'll personally buy everything he puts out, if only because his successes more than make up for his occasional failures. His latest album is solid, but if you want the really good stuff, check out the albums listed above.

Merge Records--Yeah, I know. This is a cheat because it's a label and not a band. But the amount of listening pleasure given to me by this label based out of Carrborro, NC earns them a spot. Do you like pop music? I do, and this label delivers, from the pared-down nonsense pop of Spoon to the Scottish girl group shoegaze glory of Camera Obscura. The Clientele is the best modern band that delivers dreamy sixties Britpop that never was. Destroyer is David Bowie meets Wolverine. Lambchop lives up to their tag as "Nashville's most f'ed up country band. The Shout Out Louds successfully meld the vocal stylings of Robert Smith to somewhat cheerful eighties-sounding music. M. Ward is the singer-songwriter d'jour, and I haven't even mentioned mainstays like Superchunk, Portastatic. Magnetic Fields, Neutral Milk Hotel, the Rosebuds, East River Pipe, etc. Buy a sampler or stream albums from their website mergerecords.com. Chances are no matter what your musical tastes happen to be, you'll find something that pleases you.