Jesse Hendrick - I Didn't Really Want To Play Bass Guitar But Now I'm Pretty Much Cool With It

Okay, so, bands are one of those things that we always talk about but they never really happen. Kind of like how me and Kyle always talk about how sometime we're going to go to the civil war museum, but we never actually go because it costs money to get in, and plus Kyle has a job now. Like, it's a good idea, but it just never really comes together.

So anyway, speaking of Kyle, he called me because Sam Allen bought a drum set on Craigslist for like a hundred and fifty bucks, and since we always talk about starting a band he figured, hey, now we actually have a drum set, so why the hell not? So of course, I was like, "hell yeah, I'll be in a band. I'll play the guitar and sing."

But Kyle tells me that he's playing guitar, which is shitty for me because I was going to have to borrow his guitar anyway, so now I can't even be second guitar. So I tell him, "hey, that's cool, I'll just sing then."

But unfortunately for me, Sam Allen knows this chick who is apparently a really good singer and I guess he already decided that she's singing, because, after all, he's the one with the drum set. Plus, Kyle says, they're just thinking that a chick singer would be way better.

So I'm sitting here watching my spot in this band kind of close up, because all I can really play is drums and guitar, and I was thinking of some kind of backup plan, like keyboard or something, when Kyle says, "we were thinking you could actually play the bass."

Now, I've seen enough bands to know that the bass player is usually the guy in the band who sucked too much at guitar to actually play the actual guitar, but I wasn't going to complain to Kyle because I didn't want Kyle to decide that maybe they didn't really need me in the band after all.

"Yeah, I can totally play the bass," I said, "and I can probably, like, sing some backup vocals too, or sing the ones where we don't want a chick singer."

I slipped that last part in so that I can maybe move up to singing if we want to play some covers or if Sam Allen's chick turns out to be a bitch.

Now, I don't actually own a bass guitar, or a guitar that has strings on it, but that's a whole 'nother story, so when we had our first band practice at Sam Allen's house I just borrowed his bass. At first we just jammed for a while, and I was super bored because I don't really know how to play this thing that well, and so my parts were pretty much just watching Kyle's hands and playing some of the notes that he was playing, which was actually sort of difficult even though this thing is just like a guitar except that there are only four strings and it's way quieter.

We did that for, like, 30 minutes, and I really wanted to stop jamming but I didn't want to say anything because I didn't want to seem like I was going to be a drag on the band, and I was sort of hoping that maybe if I didn't say anything Kyle and Sam Allen would forget to look at me and they wouldn't notice that I was pretty much just playing quarter notes of whatever Kyle was doing the whole time. Then our jam got interrupted because the doorbell rang and it was the chick singer, who came in and didn't introduce herself to me at all, which was fine because I was still kind of pissed that she took my spot singing and I think Kyle was a little pissed that she was so late.

So now that everybody was there we started to play some cover that the chick and Sam Allen were really excited about but I had never heard of it and I think Kyle had only listened to it like once before practice.

After running through like half of it, Sam Allen and the chick were shouting at Kyle because I guess he kept fucking up on parts, and I thought to myself, hey, maybe playing bass isn't such a bad deal, because I definitely am fucking up way more than Kyle but nobody even cares. Plus while they were arguing I even figured out how to make the bass all fuzzy and awesome sounding and then I could hear my playing way better and even though I was still just playing quarter notes I thought it sounded pretty rock star.

After practice we decided to hit up Kyle's, which is a bar, and not the actual Kyle's actual house, and there was some band playing but I didn't even hear their name. So anyway I was drinking a Blue Moon and Kyle was drinking PBR, because that's his favorite, and I was watching the band, and I realized that the bassist was definitely not just playing quarter notes. Actually, he was totally shredding. I don't think his amp was up high enough, because I could only hear him when I was really listening for him, but his grooves were totally awesome. It made me think to myself, hey, some people are pretty good at this bass stuff.

So anyway, Sam Allen let me take his bass guitar home, and even though I don't have an amp for it I've been playing it a bunch just for practice. I tried to look up that song we were learning but I couldn't remember the title of it so I just made up bass parts to songs I used to be able to play on guitar. They were still pretty much just quarter notes, but hey, everybody's gotta start somewhere, right?


Jesse Hendrick
(-Nick.)

Nick - Saffron City Fighting Dojo

This is one of the first songs I ever wrote for guitar. I don't play that set of songs very much anymore, but for some reason this one sticks with me.

It's not even particularly good; the lyrics aren't witty, the guitar part isn't intricate. Maybe it's the title (my favorite song title to date) or maybe it's the zen feeling I get when I'm playing the guitar part. Em7 to D, over and over again. At any rate, this is the first time I've ever recorded it, so enjoy this shoddy recording.

Memory Audio

robert langellier

You don't have to read this. But that's what this is about, that's what inspired this thought. It's by Nadia Wiwatwicha. Do you remember her? I do.

A few years ago my grandparents moved. They lived in that Quincy, IL Victorian house my entire life, and most of theirs. When I visited then, I knew it was the last time I would see the building with my eyes. In a heroic attempt to capture the image of that particular "last," I decided to invoke that one thing where you listen to a song while something important happens and you associate that song with that moment in time and space forever and ever and ever. Except normally, that happens by accident. You just happen to listen to "I Don't Wanna Miss a Thing" by Aerosmith on the way home from a 4th of July fireworks party where your first love stood you up. Or just by chance your mix CD breaks and it plays the first 30 seconds of of track 1 for the remainder of the entire summer. They are coincidences, and sometimes they don't even happen at exceptional times at all. Sometimes songs monopolize driving through a small city in the winter at night, or sitting in sand on the Atlantic coast. That's pretty greedy of those songs, in my opinion, but it isn't my fault or their fault because it's all just coincidence.

Anyway, on that particular day I decided to test if I could do it on purpose, if I could break the coincidence principle, because apparently being at my grandmother's house for the final time is something I recognize as probably important but that in reality I don't really trust myself to treat with all that much sacredness. At some point in the day, I walked around their backyard, probably billions of times, listening to "Thrash Unreal" by Against Me, which, for anyone who knows me, isn't something I'd typically listen to elsewhere because it has electric guitars and loud noises. ("No mother ever dreams that her daughter's gonna grow up to be a junkie.")

I walked around listening to that song, punching slow and heavy footprints into the low and wooden borderlines of my grandpa's treasured garden that I historically have liked to break things in. Repeat, repeat, repeat. ("No mother ever dreams that her daughter's gonna grow up to sleep alone.") This, until I felt satisfied. Maybe I should've chosen a less ominous and dually applicable song than one about the horrors of denying your own aging, but I did this until I felt satisfied. And you know what, it worked, god damn it. I actually have vivid memories of the menial task of simply walking in circles around a fucking yard. All it took was the simple decision to remember it, and then some merciless musical repetition. I completely intend to document the rest of my life in this way. My memoirs will be a Spotify playlist.

Nick - Two Gallants

No, play the video first. This text comes second.




Okay cool. The rugged blond guy there is Adam Stephens. Notice that he isn't just holding chords, his playing is ridiculously intricate. And, while he's doing that, he's also singing with one of my favorite voices ever.

IN ADDITION, his lyrics are gorgeous and he's playing harmonica when he's not singing.

In fact, all my chips are down. Adam Stephens is my mancrush. No other man will do.

Now turn your attention to the drummer. I've always fantasized that Adam Stephens found a time machine and went back in time to find a caveman with perfect rhythm to drum for him. Enter Tyson Vogel.

Tyson, you may notice, is rocking harder than I've probably ever rocked, and he's doing so using a tambourine as a drum stick. HE'S PLAYING DRUMS AND TAMBOURINE AT THE SAME TIME.

That is not a simple drum part, either. But if that wasn't enough, wait until the last verse. He's singing. HE'S PLAYING DRUMS AND TAMBOURINE AND SINGING AT THE SAME TIME.

The two of them singing that last line together is perfect. It's so beautiful, so passionate, so forlorn.

"I don't need nobody; nobody needs me."

That's it, ladies and gentlemen; that's the final word. We can all die now.

-Nick.

I Been Living the Blues

by Brendan Cavnagh

I apologize for not creating my regular Thursday post, but I've been so bogged down on an insurmountable amount of homework. I had to read three novels in around one week! I wasn't able to keep upon my reading assignments because of a combination of genuinely reluctant apathy and lack of time. While I've struggled to keep my head above water (I thought one of my many resolutions for 2012 was to avoid using cliches in my writing), what's gotten me through a plethora of admittedly good books- Jane Eyre for British Literature, The Rise of Silas Lapham for American Literature and The World to Come for my privileged Midrash class.- has been my recently renewed interest what I've quickly dubbed through multiple explanations as "primitive, African-American, finger-pickin' blues," played by the likes of Robert Johnson, Leadbellly, Mississippi John Hurt and the like. I only name-drop the latter three because they're pretty much all I know about right now, though I'm steadily enhancing my repertoire. To be fair, my interest in the genre has extensive, close ties to other musical tastes of mine- namely. Norman Blake, the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack and even Bob Dylan or Joan Baez.

Seeing as I'm posting my Thursday post on a Friday night / Saturday morning (depending on how you look at it), I'll save the time of writing brief, informative biographies of the aforementioned three blues guitarists and simply post a link to my current favorite song from each (and I mean current).

Mississippi John Hurt - "Pay Day" (1964?)

Leadbelly- "Pick A Bale Of Cotton " (1940)

Robert Johnson- "Kindhearted Woman Blues" (1936)

(Honorable mention, hailing from the Gangs of New York soundtrack) Sidney Stripling "Breakaway" (1941)

(Another honorable mention, revealed unto me through the movie Sounder) Lightnin' Hopkins - "Needed Time" (1950)

Follow the links. Educate yourselves.

Songs of Yore

by Brendan Cavanagh

My name is Brendan Cavanagh, I'm twenty years old and I have a huge problem: I'm getting tired of my musical catalog. Certainly, I've made a number of infrequent musical acquisitions over the last year, but even the major breakthroughs I've experienced with my favorite albums listened to in 2011 seem to mostly be albums I already had in my possession, yet never fully discovered previously. Even the most recent albums I've picked up from the library recently seem to be as neglected as most of the same tired music on my iPod. When I pick up my iPod nowadays, I can't help but play the same smattering of songs each time- current, passing favorites and the like. I thirst for an album that will electrify and inspire me like some of the foundational albums in my repertoire once did. It appears to me that music these days doesn't affect me in the same manner that it used to. Let's look back and find out why:

Overlooking that short time in eighth grade when I had a "Rio" mp3 player ('cause everyone at school had one, Mom!), my first exposure to the harmonious rapture of crisp, stolen mp3 songs was as an eighth grader with the sleek, black iPod nano I received from Santy Claus. There were two songs I especially desired to "own," the appreciation of which I could happily attribute to Ken Burns. My eighth grade history teacher took several weeks out of our year to watch, at separate times in the year, his documentaries about Lewis & Clark and the Civil War. Each had a "theme song" of sorts- an historic, instrumental song that served as a running motif throughout each series of movies. For Lewis & Clark, there was "Beech Spring," and for the Civil War, "Ashokan Farewell."

My uncle Randy, whose 90s wardrobe has recently become my own- cardigans and flannels, and a short sleeved-button down I am actually wearing as I write, with "Randy" stitched on one side and "CO OP" stitched on the other- is the Cavanagh family's technological guru, and he offered to let me use his computer to try out a program called Limewire, from which I could acquiesce myriad songs I desired, without having to purchase or struggle to locate. Naturally, I was absolutely smitten with the idea, so I made regular visits to his house a mere three blocks away from mine on weekends and pirated music to my heart's delight. I can acutely recall sitting down at his home-office swivel chair, downloading favored songs illegally as often as I twirled around in that black leather chair. At first, I mostly downloaded songs I had always loved that my parents turned me on to. When I finally did get my hands on "Ashokan Farewell," I was ecstatic. To test the song quality, and hear it blasted directly into my ears for the first time, I blared the volume as I played it on my appropriately-timed four minute walk home that foggy, silent day of Autumn 2010. I unabashedly had my parents listen to it too; I desired that they should hear the same beautiful song I was once exposed to during each daily installment of Ken Burns' The Civil War, as well as hear mp3 music for the first time (Ah, the 2000s). Once, I recall, I was at my grandmother's Townhouse flat downtown, and I figured she, more than anyone else, would appreciate such an old-timey song, and surely she had no prior exposure to an iPod at the time (she currently owns an iPad, if that properly puts things in perspective), so I relinquished control of my iPod to her and made sure she listened to "Ashokan Farewell." The song came to her as a shock; literally, as I failed to keep in mind that she might not have been as hearing impaired as I was at the time, so the music probably blew out her failing ear drums at the time, as evidenced by a terrified shriek upon the song's commencement. Even so.

The music I downloaded illegally at the time seemed so much more different than it is today. Personally, it was harder to acquire. Of course, this is well before I learned of the passively pirating strategy of burning CDs from the library to my computer. Anyway, since I couldn't truly enjoy a song until I had it in my possession, on my iPod, directly played into my ears, my frenzied anticipation built each song up into a ballad of unprecedented effectiveness. Therefore, when I finally waded through the inexplicably ubiquitous mp3 files of Bill Clinton impressions and pornographic videos that veiled desired songs, the acquired song rang so much more loudly, and truly, and fully and effectively.

I wish I had more to say, or ideas to elaborate upon. My basic point is this: I don't appreciate music as much as when it was harder for me to acquire. This, of course, comes along with growing up in a constantly technologically advancing society, but traces of the primordial feeling can still be felt in finally acquiring that key album within the repertoire of an especially favored artist or musician after great waiting periods and eager anticipation (In particular, I'm reminiscing about my three-year crusade in high school to gorge myself on Bob Dylan's repertoire). Hell, maybe I just miss being in eighth grade, in a simpler time. Naturally, that would make sense, as most of my blog posts revolve around the idea (and oft-used tag) of overt sentimentality. Take me home, country road.

Twenty {frenetic} paces

 Me, thinking I'm cool. I mean, how could I not, right?

During my first week of college, I did what was only natural to a Springfield native attending the U of I — I hung with no one but the old guard. High school friends abound, I stayed close because it made things easier.

Through this behavior, I briefly met Brad Ryan, a regular guy attending the U of I and the friend of a friend of a friend. And in our first brief interaction, the conversation of hip-hop came up among he, myself and our peers. In this conversation, we covered Wiz Khalifa (then a newbie on the heels of the release of Kush and Orange Juice), Lil Wayne (then waning in a drought of sorts, only slightly different than now), and many others. Toward the end of the conversation, the new hip-hop came up. The not-yet-established-enough-to-be-considered-new brand of hip-hop. It didn't have a name — at least, not in our conversation.

"I don't really like it," Brad said. "It's like hip-hop beats, but techno."  He played us a sample, and the lack of sound quality of his computer prevented me from truly hearing what was playing. It sounded weird. "That sounds like it could either be awesome or really, really stupid," I chimed in.

And that's how dubstep was introduced to me.


Starts with more comfortable electric music, then drops...

Dubstep is fat beats that attempt to blow your speakers and invade your head and take over all your senses. It's most likened to rave music, a natural evolution, but with more rhythmic melodies (it makes sense, I promise. The melodies are made from the rhythmic elements). It's also like electric music (well, it is electric, but the sound is different), except with more of a mashup, chop-and-screw feel.

Dubstep requires a certain arena. You can't just throw on some dubstep (which should probably be called fuckingdubstep) while you're hanging out in your dorm room. Or in the middle of the day while walking your dog. You need it to be night, you need to be in a hot room with too many people in it, and you need to be impaired, preferably.

Dubstep is dance music through and through, and is best done when you're not hearing the same thing twice, and is a strengthening and eventual dropping of a beat, which should be done somewhat unexpectedly.

I love it. I spent all last year ignoring it, including the Canopy Club dubsteps held here on campus, but I finally decided to go to one this year. And luckily I drank a healthy amount before going, because it enabled the experience to transcend my mere sense of hearing. I could feel it, and the light show helped me see it.

What is it, exactly? I don't really know, it's this indefinable feel of a song, I feel it in hip-hop. It goes up and down, it frolics with the lyrics of rap songs, it drops in dubstep. It dances around any dubstep mix, playing with you in your drunkeness to make you feel like you're not only hearing the music but in tune with it yourself. It's what makes me dance and what enables me to do so without feeling like a total white guy all the time. I said all the time.



The drawback of dubstep? Well, it sucks if you're not in the mood for it. It's arduous to listen to and you need to be able to dance with it. Also, it's not catchy. If anything, it's elusive. You spend your time trying to figure out where it's going to go next. Trying to catch it. It's not going to get popular-popular, except for as like a thing people do. In a way different from music. Like, I can see dubstep getting popular in the way hookah is popular. You need this relatively elaborate set of parameters to be fulfilled. And while under most circumstances, it would be unpreferred, there are times when it's just absolutely on point.

Having said all that, I'm a big fan of dubstep. If for no other reason than it seems to be a definite creation of our generation. A genre of music that's conceived by this generation, and at that it may be the first new genre of the millennium. It's got a lot of room for innovation, and as for how big it gets, we'll just have to wait and see.

--Eliot Sill

On The Record

by Brendan Cavanagh

Of all relevant mediums by which people listen to music, my personal favorite is the vinyl record. In addition to a portable turntable that I have adopted as my own, my mom has a sizable collection of albums and 45s from her adolescence and young adulthood. Over the past few years I've purchased records of my own, which I keep in a large milk crate with selected albums of my mother's. I prefer listening to records on vinyl for numerous reasons.

For one thing, it's a very physical process. I like being obligated to set down the needle in the appropriate spot and flipping the record after each side is through. I like admiring album art when it's right in front of me, a physical and visual manifestation of the music I am listening to.

CDs, sure, are hand-held and have much more use- you can play them in your car or stereo, you can burn them on your computer and thus transfer the songs to your iTunes or your iPod. But there are just too many CDs to buy if I want to keep up on current and past music and transfer all that to my iPod. I can much more simply and cheaply borrow any desired album from the library and return it when I've burned it onto my computer.

I don't even really want to venture into the discussion of today's music industry and the rise of the mp3. I just think it's dangerous and too available and annoying and boring and blah blah blah.

Cassette tapes are fun, albeit obsolete nowadays. None of my tape players work anymore, and I'm not going to carry around a newly-purchased walkman when I have an iPod. Former Thursday Classic Brian blogger, Cory, releases all music on his independent record label on cassette tape only.  An admirable business venture, but a fiscally unsound decision all the same. I'm glad he is now further able to assert his hipster status, but even hipsters have to realize that cassette tapes are inferior to virtually all available music-listening mediums.

The records I buy on vinyl are typically- though not solely- older albums, ones that I have a personal stock in. These are albums that I want to set up and play in my bedroom or dorm room to fill up the room with that inimitable, rough, nearly palpable sound. It's sort of like an invisible concert is being played while I put away laundry or read a book.

Furthermore, if I were to choose one type of music-listening medium to hold onto for years to come- something to come across and reminisce about fondly- then I choose vinyl records. They're just cool.

Some records that sound great on vinyl:

Highway 61 Revisited - Bob Dylan
The Band - The Band
Various Beatles' LPs - Sgt. Pepper's, Abbey Road, Rubber Soul (US version, duh!), etc.
Oracular Spectacular - MGMT
Fleet Foxes - Fleet Foxes (saw them in St. Louis the other night, fantastic!)

Today I just got Paul McCartney & Wings' Band On The Run, and from previous listening, it's fascinating when played on vinyl. Namely "Mrs. Vanderbilt," followed by "Let Me Roll It." Here's hoping old Macca plays those songs when I see him live at Wrigley Field on August 1.

You Shouldn't Let Other People Get Your Kicks For You

by Brendan Cavanagh


This is a post I wrote for a blawg my friends from college and I have. Enjoy.


One night two summers ago my cousin approached me with a serious look on his face. He gripped my arm tightly and vehemently expressed his concern that perhaps one is entirely unable to watch a movie or read a book or listen to a musician without first hearing about it from a reputable source- be it a friend, relative, magazine or website. He said, "Would we have watched Dr. Strangelove last night if it hadn't been named one of the greatest films of all time?"

At the time, I understood what he meant, but his qualms have stuck with me and influenced me to retain as much autonomy and individual interest as possible when encountering unexperienced aspects of media. So when I flipped through someone's copy of the latest Rolling Stone this weekend and discovered an article listing, in depth, the "70 Greatest Bob Dylan Songs," I experienced an amalgamation of several feelings: elation at seeing many of my favorite songs on the list, confidence that just like Rolling Stone writers and Dylan-worshipping musicians, I knew what made these songs great, disgust with certain songs I felt should have made the list but didn't as well as the ones included that I felt shouldn't have been, and inspiration to listen much closer to songs I may have previously ignored or misunderstood.

Obviously, everyone has different taste. But when it comes to Dylan's greatest songs, it's understandable that many people would share the same favorites. I think it's important to have this sort of mutual understanding, but I am really proud to have my own choices in my own order, be them on The List or not. So I'll list here my five favorite Dylan songs to give you a taste of how I view Dylan's work, but keep in mind my favorites vary depending on my mood,. the weather, the time, where I am, what I'm doing and blah blah blah blah blah. The following is the most enduring Top Five:

1. Don't Think Twice, It's All Right [Demo-Recording] - No Direction Home Soundtrack (The Bootleg Series, Vol. 7) - 2005

The studio recording was the eighth track on 1963's The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan, but I prefer the demo because although it excludes the bluesy harmonica, its stripped-down and mournful sound more accurately paints a picture of desolation and leaving a relationship.

2. Santa-Fe - The Bootleg Series, Vol. 1 (1991)

The lyrics are indecipherable and don't match up to their written documentation, but from what I can understand, they detail a life of endless wandering, the thoughts of a man who can't e tied down to a single place or person. It was recorded in the basement of Big Pink with The Band before they were The Band, so of course, the musical accompaniment is richer and upbeat. The seemingly comforting line "Don't feel bad, no no no no don't don't don't feel bad" kills me every time.

3. Like A Rolling Stone - Highway 61 Revisited (1965)

Honestly, this is one of the most important songs of all time, so it would make sense that it would be Rolling Stone's number one pick (though the fact that it is the magazine's namesake and that it was already chosen as their pick for the greatest song of all time eased any anticipation). Over time the song takes on added significance, and I find myself singing it scornfully and acidly in my head to certain girls I hate to love. Bruce Springsteen has rather articulately expressed his first encounter with the song, in a way speaking for most people, saying "The first time I heard Bob Dylan, I was in the car with my mother listening to WMCA, and on came that snare shot that sounded like somebody'd kicked open the door to your mind."

4. Idiot Wind [Alternate Take] - The Bootleg Series. Vol. 2 (1991)

Dylan haphazardly recorded most of the material on 1975's Blood On The Tracks without much help from a backing band in Minneapolis before revamping his songs and releasing them. This song is notable because it features simply Dylan on acoustic guitar and harmonica, desperately whining a depressing nine minutes of heartbreak and anger with a past love who done him wrong. In the end, though, Dylan places the blame not only on his ex-lover, but on himself, too, stating, "We're idiots babe, it's a wonder we can even feed ourselves." However, the lyrical imagery is overshadowed by the minute-and-a-half harmonica solo at the end of the song, a solo which most vividly relates Dylan's pain.

5. Chimes Of Freedom [Live] - No Direction Home Soundtrack (The Bootleg Series, Vol. 7) 2005

In my opinion, maybe the greatest of Dylan's folk-protest songs, and perhaps the greatest protest song of all time. Though instead of pointing fingers Dylan describes a truly epic thunderstorm whose violent lightening and thunder clang out the unjust derogation of all types of people and which is seen by everyone in a strange experience of global unity- from the outcast, the mistitled prostitute and misdemeanor outlaw to the poet, the lonesome-hearted lover and ultimately, "every hung-up person in the whole wide universe." I don't often listen to the original studio version on 1964's Another Side of Bob Dylan, instead favoring the live concert version recorded in 1964 at the Newport Folk Festival.

I love Bob Dylan. And you should, too.

Let Freedom Reign Bullets

--Robert Langellier

Recently, I've had fewer iPods than usual, which means I've listened to the radio in my car on the way to work. Maybe you haven't noticed that upwards of 75% of FM radio stations are country stations, but upwards of 75% of FM radio stations are country stations. And not the kind of country I like. The kind of country where a song comes on and I think 'wow, this sounds really cool' and then the deep-south twangy dude singer comes in and I realize this isn't the Dixie Chicks after all.

I mean, I guess it makes sense — country is America's most popular genre of music. There's a lot of urbanites out there, and they all listen to different kinds of music. There's also a lot of rural people out there, and they all listen to the exact same kind of music.

What the radio showed me was that real modern country is not the new Decemberists album. It's Toby Keith and Keith Urban and other variants of "Keith" and/or Rascal Flatts. It's uninhibited patriotism and drawl, more recently combined with other core values of drugz n' bitches from modern radio.

I totally knew this already, but my utter lack of exposure to modern country still left me a little semi-shocked to hear Toby Keith's "Courtesy of the Red, White, and Blue (The Angry American)."

I'm all for patriotism. It gives a lot of (sometimes red) color to the world, and it adds a lot to a culture. I'm also all for America. I love the American landscape and American history and American literature and America's old values. I'm also all for supporting the troops. They're not in charge of our American wars; most of them, I think, are just doing their jobs, some in areas of the world that need our help and some in areas that don't. DISCLAIMER OVER, THIS SONG SUCKS.

It's cheesy, which is okay. It's tailor-made for the radio, with some righteous, time-tested, punk-rock guitar chords building into a crashing chorus of good ol' American country anthem. Lyrics time.

"There's a lot of men dead,
So we can sleep in peace at night when we lay down our heads."

This is true. Militaries are nasty things, but without some sort of craaazy global revolution, we're going to need some kind of army to take for granted while we live our lives of gross American luxury. Maybe not trillions of dollars of army, but hey, shit happens.

"My daddy served in the army where he lost his right eye,
But he flew a flag out in our yard 'til the day that he died.
He wanted my mother, my brother, my sister and me.
To grow up and live happy in the land of the free"

Aw. That's sweet.

"Now this nation that I love is fallin' under attack.
A mighty sucker-punch came flying in from somewhere in the back."

Right again. No matter who was behind 9/11, it was still a devastating event for America. And it might be added that this song was written a decade ago, so using the present tense is relevant.

"Soon as we could see clearly through our big black eye,
Man, we lit up your world like the fourth of July."

Whoa! Toby! That seems a little rash, are you sure you want to record that?

"Hey, Uncle Sam put your name at the top of his list,
And the Statue of Liberty started shaking her fist.
And the eagle will fly and it's gonna be hell,
When you hear Mother Freedom start ringing her bell.
And it'll feel like the whole wide world is raining down on you.
Ah, brought to you, courtesy of the red, white and blue."

Starting to lose a little faith in you, Toby. Getting harder to defend you.

"An' you'll be sorry that you messed with the U.S. of A.
'Cos we'll put a boot in your ass, it's the American way."

I don't pretend to know a lot about politics. Monday Nick's in charge of that. But god damn. This is a pretty bad song. I recognize, and it's important to note, that this song was written and recorded within a year of 9/11, a time period where it was pretty understandable for most of the general populace to be a little shaken and uninformed. I don't hold Toby Keith responsible for that. It's also important to know that, from the little research I did, Keith surprisingly seems to be a very fair, level-headed man with his politics. He considers himself independent, although slightly to the left, and despite the sentiments of the song we just witnessed, he says he never supported the Iraq War. "(But) I don't apologize for being patriotic... If there is something socially incorrect about being patriotic and supporting your troops, then they can kiss my ass on that, because I'm not going to budge on that at all. And that has nothing to do with politics. Politics is what's killing America."

But Keith's song still rides the radio waves in 2011. The mentality of blowing to hell anyone and anything who touches us is dangerously ignorant and fosters the kind of prejudiced hate that embarrasses me about America. In the small, narrow world I live in at college, it's an extinct belief. But my world is narrow, and I'm not used to being exposed to the true body of America, much of which still buys into this destructive mindset almost ten years after ripping out Iraq's organs and reassembling it with toothpicks. Sometimes it's eye-opening to look over Mizzou's gates and get a glimpse into the real world, even when I already know what I'll see.

Double Take

by Brendan Cavanagh

Some of my favorite musicians or bands were ones that I knew of or listened to half-heartedly, not fully opening my ears to the music. It's always quite a shock when you discover that your new favorite was resting just under your nose the whole time. The following is a list of songs and/or videos that triggered strong emotional response and incentive to pursue:

"Up On Cripple Creek" - The Band

Like everyone else, I already knew and liked "The Weight," except hardly anyone knows that that's the title. But one afternoon my mom told me to watch this video of The Band performing "Up On Cripple Creek" in concert, and I was smitten. The band members looked so mountainy, due to their innovative blend of country and rock n roll, but mainly because of their impressive facial hair.

"Who Killed Davey Moore?" - Bob Dylan

When I was a sophomore in high school, I used to nap daily. Like, long naps. I think I came home from school and slept for four hours on more than two occasions. Anyway, one night at about 7 or so I ambled downstairs in a fog, splayed myself out on the couch and turned on PBS, which was airing Bob Dylan Live at Newport: 1963-1965. Although I initially hesitated to change the channel because I was too damn lazy, I wound up sticking it out through "Who Killed Davey Moore?" and the rest of the program, enthralled by my first encounter with Bob Dylan. In this video especially, I admired how bare and raw his music came across.  Buuuuuuttttttt the video is not on Youtube, so I will post another one from the same program.  This was the first time I Heard "Like A Rolling Stone," and I remember sitting in Spanish class the next day, nasally singing the refrain over and over in my head, anxious to go home and listen to the song again.  This, incidentally, is the first live performance of "Like A Rolling Stone," and it was a very big deal because Dylan switched over from acoustic-folk to electric-rock.  Great move, in my opinion.

"Here Comes The Sun" - The Beatles

I liked the popular songs of The Beatles for years and years, but never felt any incentive to seek out and acquire more by them. I simply "didn't get" The Beatles. After suffering much verbal abuse from my cousin and forcing myself to listen to Abbey Road, I started to develop an appreciation for The Beatles, especially Abbey Road, but still could not understand what made them so amazing. Then fairly recently, something (no pun intended) about "Here Comes The Sun" knocked me out. I took into account the cultural context surrounding The Beatles fame, the artists they inspired and collaborated with and ultimately, how their music made me feel. It made me feel different. That's all I can say.

"Who'll Stop The Rain?" - Creedence Clearwater Revival

Creedence is the ultimate radio band, so I was always familiar with a handful of their most popular singles, but once I got a hold of my mom's portable turntable and her collection of records, I started playing Chronicle, Vol. One a lot. Well, mostly Side Three at first. But the song I always came back to was "Who'll Stop The Rain?" because I dug the sound as well as the subtle, political undertones. It was relevant in the 60s, and it's relevant today in this lousy mid-west weather.

"Gimme Shelter" - The Rolling Stones

I never really got into the Rolling Stones, save for a few singles, as with any other popular band I felt obligated to listen to, however begrudgingly.  Though I was sitting in my friend's car one night last year, and he played "Gimme Shelter" and told me to listen to it and understand how awesomely gnarly Merry Clayton's vocals are.  We listened to it a lot over Christmas Break, and one day as I zoned in on the guitar, it clicked.  I actually remember something in my head clicking.  The proverbial light bulb going off, if you will.  Later, I wrote on my buddy's Facebook wall to show how much I liked this song (and to show our Facebook friends how cool I am).  I believe my post sums it up:


"Top Four Moments in "Gimme Shelter":
1. Final gnarly, drawn-out note on the guitar before Mick comes in (listen to this part with Bill, he'll make it infinitely better)
2. Merry Clayton's "Ra-ape! Murder!" (her voice cracks twice)
3. Seamless transition into "Love, sister..." 
4. "Gimme, gimme shelter" (who doesn't love meta?)"

"The Lengths" - The Black Keys

Getting restless/lazy now.  Shorter descriptions.  Liked a couple louder songs by the Black Keys, falling asleep one night, heard this song, fell in love.  Depressing, guttural, induces strong nostalgia in my college friends.

"Sloop John B" - The Beach Boys

Knew plenty of Beach Boys songs, all the hits, but got particularly attached to this one.  Harmonies, odd instruments used, Pet Sounds is a fantastic album, especially on vinyl.

"For Lovin' Me" - Peter, Paul & Mary

Cover of Gordon Lightfoot, harmonies are solid, lyrics are somewhat misogynist yet empowering.

"A Quick One, While He's Away" - The Who

Gave me much new found respect for The Who.  Frontman Roger Daltry (vocals) calls it a "mini-opera" and the parent to the Who's subsequent album/movie/first rock opera, Tommy.  Blog post about this song/The Who/the awesomeness of rock operas pending.  But it's a medley of a bunch of little ditties which tells a story about a restless woman who gives in to another man and her ultimate confession to her lover.  So so good. Used in Wes Anderson's Rushmore, which makes it extra legit.  Best version is Live at Leeds, though the Rock n Roll Circus version is fun too.

"Pale Blue Eyes" - The Velvet Underground

Used twice in Adventureland, loved it ever since.  Made me eager to pursue the Velvet Underground, despite knowing nothing about them.  Sad, sweet, sincere vocals.  Listen to the bass kick in at the end of the second verse.  This should be played only at nighttime and if you're depressed.

ENJOYYYYYY, MAKE COMMENTS AND FACILITATE DISCUSSION PLZ

Hanging with my taste buds

What's that you asked? You want to know my top ten favorite songs?

Sure. Others here at Classic Brian would flip out at the concept of narrowing their gigantic iTunes libraries down to ten distinct favorites, but I realized the other day, I know my favorites. And I thought that was pretty cool. I actually put them in order too, so, without further ado, my top ten fave songs. Then I'll talk about why. It's like a list! I don't do those so much. Here you go.

The following views are my own, and if you disagree, great. It means we're different people.

10. Impossible Soul — Sufjan Stevens
Frankly, most of me is just happy that someone did this. At first when you look at iTunes and realize that one of the tracks is a ridiculous 25 minutes, 35 seconds long, you're initial thought is "I will never ever have time for that." But, knowing the reputation Sufjan Stevens has, I wasn't really worried as I ventured into the colossal track.

It starts out so simply, and quickly gains layer after layer, evolving into a boisterous struggle for melodic prominence amid a rhythmic clusterfuck that hardly ever provides solid ground for the song to roll along on. Meanwhile, Sufjan divulges a tragic tale about a love that simply cannot be. He is really good at using instruments more rhythmically than melodically, and having a thousand rhythms going on at once. From the live video I've seen, it seems the rhythms play out even better in person. In the style of Age of Adz, all kinds of electronica come together to make the song abide by Sufjan's unique sound, and over the course of 25 minutes, the effect is awesome. There are several "movements" within the song, where the vocal rhythms, rhythms and instrumentations change. All of them flow together pretty seamlessly, with the exception of the final movement, but that is a purposeful move.

I am quite fond of classical music, and to see an indie artist ask you to shut the hell up and listen to him for 25-plus minutes is really awesome to see. And to boot, it's pulled off awesomely. My favorite part of the song occurs at 12:12, because I heard that on a pair of Beats headphones and actually lost my breath. Yeah, whatever.

9. Don't Think Twice, It's Alright — Bob Dylan
I'm generally not a huge Bob Dylan fan, but he does a hell of a job capturing the essence of bittersweet in this song. Lyrically, it's basically "Impossible Soul" cut down to three and a half minutes. Something like that. He puts his heart into his guitar here and his soul into his harmonica. Whenever this song catches me in the right mood, it sounds absolutely fucking brilliant. If not, I can still enjoy it. In order to make this list it has to be enjoyable even when I'm not in just the perfect mood.

8. 1901 — Phoenix
When I first heard this song, I diagnosed it as "alright." The chorus of it kind of threw me off, and hit me the wrong way, but eventually those feelings subsided. Then I listened to it more and it grew on me a ton. The beginning is really something badass, and the chorus is actually really fun to sing along to.

Especially when you're seeing them live in the second row at freaking Lollapalooza. Yeah, that boosted the value of this song significantly, and rightfully so. Whenever it comes on now, I can't help but think of those three days and how great they were. I know it's an associative reason for liking it, but it still makes me enjoy the song more. Enough said.

Even with Lolla, however, this song still wasn't top ten material. That status was crystalized Feb. 6, 2011. Some of you may remember that day as (Sometimes) Friday Conor's birthday, but others may remember it as the Super Bowl. I have, as you damn well know, been a Packers fan since I was RILL young. Finally watching a team in my sentient days actually get to and win the Super Bowl was one of the greatest things I had ever watched. Then, after the game was over, Fox threw this thirty second cherry on top of my holy-fuck-this-is-an-awesome-sundae. Some of you may watch that and think it is corny, lame, or even be mad that they cut the entire verse out. (They had thirty seconds!) But after watching those guys shown fight on 20 separate occasions to make me a happy camper (and succeeding in all of them — even the defeats [and yes, this is because they won the Super Bowl]), I was just processing the idea of having won the title, and this really made it sink in. We were all that. Every time I hear 1901, I think back to winning the Super Bowl. That's as much help in winning my heart that any song (or any thing, really) could have. So, yup. Hell yeah, Phoenix. The song that brings back all that memories and stuff.

7. Get 'Em High — Kanye West (ft. Talib Kweli and Common)
Uhhhh whaaaat? Yeah, I know, this seems weird, but I just love this song. It's the only rap song on my top ten by the way, making it, I guess, my favorite rap of all time. Yeah, this is tough to defend.

Well let's start with the beat. Totally underwhelming. So willingly repetitive. The song tells you pretty much up front that it's not about production or "strings for the dramatic" or whatever, but just that you're going to hear some effing rap. Kanye, Talib and Common proceed to rip that simplistic beat apart for just under five minutes. They don't really have much to say. Kanye says "I'm the shit," then he says "this girl wants me," then Talib says "Kanye, I'll help you get that bitch, and I'm trying to smoke," then Common says "other rappers suck." And that's the whole song. But the vocal rhythms cover just about every single thing you could look to get out of the beat, which I just counted, covers four notes. That's the extent of the melody.

The chorus is catchy, and somehow gets dropped at all the right times to add another element of awesomeness. Also these are three of the rappers I respect the most, and they do the summit justice by all  slicing and dicing and dissecting and shredding the beat with awesome flow unlike any other song I've heard. Yeah.

6. New Born — Muse
I had a phase my sophomore and junior years where Muse, was like, the only band that mattered. Those were very high anxiety times, mostly because I was listening to pretty much just Muse. I loved their sound. I loved their intensity. I loved how loud they were for having just three members. I liked that they were super nerdy. I liked that they put on probably the best show ever in the world.

This song starts with some kinda haunting piano, then adds in some bass and alto piano (is that a thing? it's higher, on the note scale thing) to add to the distress, then Matt Bellamy comes on to tell us the situation. The song goes along with this groove for about a minute, before stopping.

Then it's picked up by just the ruggedest guitar riff in all the land. I can tell those notes, when put together, have an awesome beard. And then the drums come in, ruthlessly loud, perfectly syncing with the melody and providing copious crashing cymbals, and the song gains its legs. Then a swift chording guitar part comes up, accompanied by a driving bass riff that adds to the sense of urgency of the song. Anyway, yeah. A song happens. The intensity is not to be fucked with, and this song has one of the awesome climaxes of all time. On my deathbed, play this song, and I will have the temporary ability to beat up at least a fourth grader.

5. Casimir Pulaski Day — Sufjan Stevens
As different as this song is from the Muse song I just ranted about, it is equally different from the other Sufjan song I posted at No. 10. Whenever I need to mellow outt, or if I'm really super depressed, this song will put me at peace in five and a half minutes. Lyrically, it's one of the better-constructed songs I've ever heard, painting a series of scenes documenting a relationship that no longer exists because the other party in said relationship is now dead.

When some bullshit happens to good people, it puts me in a crappy mood. I wonder why things happen. I wonder why it couldn't have happened to some shmuck I didn't know. I thank God that I've never had a close friend or immediate family member die. I've never had serious obstacles in my life I needed miraculous assistance to help overcome. I've had it, relatively, easy. So earlier in the year when I was just in a moody mood where it seemed like everything was just the other shoe waiting to drop and eventually all the shoes I knew would be on the floor and nothing would be left to care about, I listened to this song a ton. It really paints a sad, sad picture, then picks you up off the floor by offering a perfect-fitting melody that just reminds you of everything you have. Somehow. It blows my mind, really.

But my favorite part about the song is the ending. After this uplifting and emotionally packed part in the song the song lands on one note and sticks there for a while. For a long while actually, then you realize that what you're listening to at the end of this song about death sounds an awful lot like a flatline. And just when you become really sad, Sufjan drops this heavenly chord that just lets you know that dying isn't the end, and that shit's gonna get better. Tell me I'm reading way too damn much into the song, but you can't take away the satisfaction I get from listening to it.

4. Keep Yourself Warm — Frightened Rabbit
An organ plays four notes in succession. The song begins, a guitar chimes in, still mostly rhythmic in construction, then a fucking bagpipe drops on top of the instrumental. Oh wait, excuse me, that's just Scott Hutchinson's incredibly Scottish voice. It's hard to discern at first what exactly the song is about, then he sings "No you won't find love in a, won't find love in a hole/ It takes more than fucking someone to keep yourself warm." You're initial thought is that this would be funny, but the band totally pulls it off. And the whole song comes off beautifully.

At the start of this song, Hutchinson sounds pathetic. He sounds like he's trying to talk himself off a ledge as he's trying to talk a girl into the bedroom. Then as the song builds and builds, so does Hutchinson's self-respect. It seems like by the end of the song he is content with himself, to a degree, whereas before it seemed like he wanted to fucking bottom out.  I think this song plays out perfectly, and in a city filled with sorostitute hunting frat guys, it feels good to know that it "takes more than fucking someone you don't know to keep yourself warm."

I'm not a huge fan of Frightened Rabbit (for example, the lead singer who I referred to by name three times, I had to look up his name), but this was the first song of theirs that I heard and it immediately grabbed my attention in the best of the ways. Yay Scottish people.

3. Wake Up — Arcade Fire
At first, I was like, "hey, I kinda like this song." Then I listened to it a bunch more, and at some point it just hit me how epic it was. Yeah, it's about "the kids" and "growing up" (seemingly all Arcade Fire ever wants to damn talk about), but hey, that was a huge deal in my life for a while. Also, one of the iconic songs of the summer of 2010, despite being like, six years old. This song needs little explanation, as it is obviously really fricking great. I love every second. The rock-ass guitar, combined with the sentimentality of the violins, and the simplistic atmospheric sound to it. It seems grand, and oh yeah, I saw this live in the front row at Lollapalooza. I liked that very much, if you've forgotten.

The ending is awesome, also. Dance parties are the best.

2. When the Levee Breaks — Led Zeppelin
This song is a raid. The drums immediately kick the door down. The harmonica and guitar come in, killing everyone in the room. Then Robert Plant's voice (did NOT have to look that one up) carves LZ's into everyone's foreheads to let whoever finds 'em know who did it.

The song was originally a blues piece by Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie (just a guitarist, she was a female blues guitarist in the 1920s; pretty cool, eh?) recorded in 1929. Led Zeppelin gave the song a badass makeover and recorded it in 1970.

I was one of those kids, you know the ones. In middle school I discovered classic rock and was set in my ways for years. Led Zeppelin was my favorite band, and I still don't have a reason to knock them from atop that list. Every song they made kicked someone's ass, and they had four musical legends at the helm of each of their instruments. My favorite song of all time used to be Stairway to Heaven, but then I realized how much goddamn sense that song failed to make, and this song was actually one I really got into around the beginning of eighth grade. You know, August? 2005? Hurricane Katrina. I thought they were prophetic gods.

(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zxMDwlxxJUM — This fuck won't let me post his vid. Chunt.)

Obviously not, but the song still kicks ass and is the only one to which I can lay down a seven-minute freestyle rap and feel totally badass whenever I want. It's a damn great one.  But it's not quite my favorite song of all time.

....

Nick - PK Barnjam!

With the semester coming to an end, I thought it would be appropriate to talk about many of the people whom I've met this year that have made it special for me. So brace yourself for an Overly Sentimental tag, and let's get down to business!

At the beginning of this school year, I didn't know what to expect from college. I was kind of scared and timid about the whole ordeal, and I would have rather just stayed at home. I went to classes and studied. I went to parties that I didn't like. I wrote about how I didn't like parties at least once. I never really had a social circle. But then everything changed when I started auditioning for improv.

The improv community here is so big, and so nice. When I saw how cool and friendly everybody was, I made it my goal to become one of them. One of the happiest moments of my life was getting the acceptance call from The Titanic Players.

And then, almost instantly, I had a really supportive group of friends. Most of the older Titanic members really took me, and all of us freshmen, under their wing. It made a big difference for me just knowing older people who could answer any freshmen questions I had.

Most importantly, my Titanic team is made up of 8 of the nicest and coolest people I've ever met. So allow me to briefly introduce, for those of you who haven't seen us, team PK Barnjam!

Paul: Energetic and clever, Paul comes up with some of our most hilarious ideas.
Kate: Totally versatile, and Kate has the funniest reactions of anyone ever.

Bill: Loud! Level-headed! Bill is good at starting new scenes.
Amy: Our most veteran member, Amy is master of strong relationships.
Robel: Animated! Robel is awesome with voices and interesting characters.
Nick: Hey, that's me!
Julie: Super easy to work with. Julie is very in tune with her scene partner.
Anna: Anna does what the piece requires her to do, and she's good at it.
Marnie: Our late-game secret weapon, Marnie makes things fresh when they get stale.

So let me take a moment here to thank everybody on PK BJ for sticking with me all year. They've made this semester a blast for me.

Thanks, guys.

This year has also been the last year of improvising with team Kaboot, Titanic's most senior (and most mindblowing) team. They've done such a great job of being mentors and role models for us, and they've consistently showed us time and time again what a truly awe-inspiring performance looks like. I hope I can reach that level one day.

So thanks, Kaboot.

Finally, tonight is my last performance of the year with De Bono. I made it onto De Bono at the beginning of second semester, and they've taught me a ton about improv, music, and sometimes fashion. It's my secret fantasy to one day play music as well as Robby while dressed as nicely as Gaschler.

So one last thank you for De Bono.

There's not much else I can say: these guys made this year great for me. So I look forward to improvising with you next semester, PK Barnjam.

Cheers!
-Nick.

"This was just about the time of that Woodstock festival, which was the sum total of all this bullshit."

 Alternate title: "Well, fuck it. I wish these people would just forget about me. I wanna do something they can't possibly like, they can't relate to."

by Brendan Cavanagh

Well, with finals coming up and the semester wrapping up before summer break, I've had plenty to do.  Over the course of the next week, I'll be writing a couple English papers about William Faulkner's The Sound and the Fury and James Joyce's "Araby," then a full ten-pager comparing a couple Irish films and how they exemplify themes that have arisen out of the Irish experience, followed by an education philosophy, an epic poem relating my experience shadowing an English teacher earlier this year and a handful other looming projects that I don't seem to have track of right now.

Instead of doing all this I've been exceptionally apathetic, trying to find any reason not to get some much-needed work done.  For instance, yesterday I went to CVS with a friend, came back to my dormitory and immediately got in someone else's car and went to another CVS.  I mean, a guy can only buy so much Kleenex and sweet tea, you know? So to alleviate my pain while attempting to complete the monumental amount of homework I have in store, I've made it a point to keep easy-going music playing on my iPod, in particular focusing heavily on an oft-overlooked period of Bob Dylan's career, from about 1969-1970.

After suffering a debilitating motorcycle crash in 1966, Dylan experienced an epiphany of sorts and realized how much bigger than himself he had become.  Tired of being the poster boy for the generation, he tried to fade into temporary obscurity in order to be with his family and focus on music he liked making at the time.  At this point, Dylan had sort of extricated himself from the cryptic rock n roll he became known for in the late 60s and instead decided to try his hand at country.  In 1969, he released Nashville Skyline, which despite the new, crooning voice he had picked up to match his music's sound, is actually quite good. 

 Nashville Skyline (1969)

Among the thirty-odd minutes of Nashville Skyline stand a few key tracks:

1. "I Threw It All Away"

A bittersweet song about a love he once had, and about how he took his love for granted and subsequently lost her due to carelessness.  Dylan stresses to the listener not to do the same because "love is all there is, it makes the world go 'round."

2. "Lay Lady Lay"

Dylan's big single from Nashville Skyline. As the title suggests, the song is very sexy. Unlike "I Threw It All Away," Dylan actually has a woman of his own here that he loves very much, and he pleads with her to stay the night with him and spoon a little bit. "His clothes are dirty, but his hands are clean," he comfortingly tells her, humbling himself to her beauty. To me, the song is an auditory representation of that feeling you have on a lazy summer morning, when you simply feel good without needing a reason.

The rest of the album follows in the same tradition, featuring a healthy dose of finger-picking and ragtime piano-pounding, with a nice "twang" playing throughout. In a similar fashion, Dylan's 1970 follow-up, Self Portrait, features him crooning his way through a double album of pop and folk covers and identically mellow original creations. The album was heavily lambasted by fans and critics alike (a reviewer for Rolling Stone opened his review with the line "What is this shit?"), and even Dylan has never seemed to express any profound appreciation for it.  Instead, he's argued, he was sick and tired of everyone expecting so much from him, so he scrounged together all the warm-ups and outtakes from Nashville Skyline and the later 1970 release, New Morning, and threw it on a double album ("I mean, if you're gonna put a lot of crap on it, you might as well load it up!"). 

Self Portrait (1970)

However incoherent or sloppy, more than a few tracks really appeal to me because of the down-home, easy-going sound he embraced at the time.  These have been on repeat lately:

1. "Let It Be Me"

A cover of the Everly Brothers classic (or the breath-taking Jerry Butler & Betty Everett cover). Like it does on a number of other songs from Self Portrait, the guitar in this song is smooth beyond belief. The song is so honest- the singer simply wants to be with the woman that makes him happiest.

2. "I Forgot More Than You'll Ever Know"

The best example of crooning I can provide. Dylan sings somberly about a man who stole away his lover. As time has passed, Dylan's learned to move on and forget her, but the amount of pleasing mannerisms, idiosyncrasies and sexual benefits he's had to forget infinitely surmount what the new guy will ever learn about her. An easy song to relate to- you don't get the girl you want, but you know you're the right one for her, that no one else could ever possibly know about or love her as much as you do.

3. "The Boxer"

An initially laughable, but surprisingly catchy cover of Simon & Garfunkel's hit single. Dylan double-tracks his voice on this song, essentially harmonizing with himself. A must-listen.


A couple songs on Self Portrait have a few women harmonizing the backing vocals, noticeably on "Let It Be Me." Presumably, the same women are featured every now and then on Dylan's subsequent release, New Morning, which followed a more traditional approach to the construction of an album, garnering more tolerable reviews from critics and fans. The album is striking because it is stripped down, with much less fanfare than Dylan's previous albums. Simply boasting some guitar, piano and earthy vocals, it takes some listening to to fully appreciate its simplicity.

New Morning (1970)

Two favorites:

1. "The Man In Me"

Perhaps recognizable to any fans of The Big Lebowski, as it was used several times throughout the film. While the lyrics are humble and show Dylan achingly acknowledging that this one woman is the key to bringing out his true self, one of the strongest portions of the song is when the aforementioned female harmonizers take over at the end and fade out with a repeated "Ahh-ahh-ahh" over a clanging, albeit subtle guitar riff.

2. "Day Of The Locusts"

You see, even if he tries to escape the music of his past, Dylan still contains the same feelings he once had. Instead of ragging on the self-satisfied girl in "Like A Rolling Stone" or "Positively 4th Street," Dylan's vindictive fury is released upon people that try to put him in a box, man. Specifically, when Dylan was presented with an honorary doctorate at Princeton University in June of 1970, he became aggravated by the impositions made of him- like having to wear a cap and gown in order to receive his award- and the implications of his celebrity status- like taking a limousine to the ceremony. Though his severe paranoia may have been induced by the two joints he smoked in the limo on the way there with David Crosby of The Byrds/Crosy, Stills & Nash. Either way, Dylan smartly decided to relate his feelings of being overwhelmed to the 17-year cicada infestation plaguing Princeton at the time, and came up with this song.

A lot of people tend to focus on Bob Dylan's golden period- albums like Highway 61 Revisited or Blonde on Blonde- but I think that just because his quieter, country period wasn't as popular at the time doesn't mean it isn't warranted a listen. Anyway, without all those drums and howls and harmonica solos, I find it easier to concentrate on my homework...which I will begin...nowwwwww.

Title Tracks

by Brendan Cavanagh

So my entire post was just deleted. I don't have the time nor the fortitude to rewrite the whole thing, so here's a slimmer facsimile of my original post:

Plain and simple, I wish movies these days emulated those of the '60s. Back then, a plethora of movies employed the use of a current pop song as the main theme and prominent part of the movie. For instance:

One. To Sir, With Love (1967)
           --"To Sir, With Love" by Lulu
               -The "Inspirational Teacher Movie Ending" that we so hungrily crave
Two. The Graduate (1967)
           --"Mrs. Robinson" and "The Sound of Silence" by Simon & Garfunkel
               -Poppy, jangly acoustic guitar and youthful harmonies evocative of the '60s
Three. Midnight Cowboy (1969)
           --"Everybody's Talkin'" by Harry Nilsson & Fred Neil
               -Alienating and howling for comfort in a city of strangers
Four. M*A*S*H (1970)
           --"Suicide Is Painless" by Johnny Mandel & Mike Altman
               -cynical realization that the pain that builds over time can be avoided in a voluntary instant

Feel free to offer other examples.

Fantastic out of 10

Observe the above painting. It's from Claude Monet's Houses of Parliament series. How good of a painting is it? Now, we aren't seeing the painting in the flesh in front of our faces, so our judgment is a little disjointed as is. Additionally, since we are seeing one painting from a series, it lacks a context, so we don't know whether this is a darker lighter mooded piece in comparison to its peer pieces. It portrays a, well, House of Parliament, erected against the overhanging setting sun. The sun reflects off the body of water in the foreground, and this reflection is portrayed in brilliant colors. The remaining sky seems to be an apathetic blue being under the negative influence of some clouds at a juxtaposition, and the base of the edifice is obscured and not illuminated. The impressionist painting has some very efforted brushstrokes and is given a texture that does wonders for the water in the foreground and takes away from the looming structure on the coastal landscape.

So what did we decide about the painting?

6.8.

What?

Art, in all of its forms and fashions, is created, usually, for the consumer. Therapeutic effects and personal satisfaction aside, art is created to observe. This observation can be through seeing, hearing, touching, or even smelling and tasting. This is called perception. As consumers, we have this fucked up tendency to perceive beyond what is there to percept. Along with perceiving art, we interpret art. We take what we see or hear and we put a context to it. That's why some people like certain things more than others.

All of this is "duh" shit so far, so it's about time I get to a point.

What's a good movie? What's a good album? Better yet, what makes it good?

Despite what we may believe, this isn't really an arbitrary thing. Some people like loud music, some people like soft music, some people like stupid movies, some people like action movies, some people hate movies where shit doesn't blow up (can't blame 'em; shit blowin' up is tight). Yeah, there's general trends to what makes something a quality production, but there's also so much to interpret and apply to one's own personal taste. It's art. If you like it, I might think it sucks. And that's fine, so long as I'm not a dick about it.

That's what I hate about Pitchfork. Pitchfork, popular douchey pretentious music website, makes its best effort to review like every album ever. Which is great, but the fact that there is one site that rates every album they can means that there's a standard. There's a status quo that music, an interpretive art, has to live up to. When I read a Pitchfork review, the thing that jumps out at me is the big red number that arbitrarily gives value to something that may mean the world to someone. Is The People's Key (Bright Eyes' latest album) the best album you've ever heard? Hm, nope! 5.0. This means Radiohead's Kid A was twice as good. Wait, you don't like Radiohead's sound? Well, you're wrong. Conor Oberst's lyrics are bad. No they aren't poetic, if you think that you're stupid. Things like these are what reviews tell us.

In journalism you're supposed to show and not tell. In giving a movie review, you can say "this scene was poorly shot" or "the acting was sub-par and lacked the proper emotion." In a music review, you can't really tell without showing. In other words, you just say "that synth part sucked" or "Oberst's voice sounds like a violin played with a cob of corn." So sites/magazines like Pitchfork really are just spewing their opinions, treating them as fact and playing God of good taste. It's stupid. Isn't it stupid guys? It's pretty stupid.

Now, if an album is especially awful, or fantastically great, it deserves some notoriety, and it's up to media outlets to create that. And I guess I'm not even mad about the reviewing process. The thing that pisses me off most is the large red number. The deciding factor, what it all comes down to.  A surprisingly high 7.0 is the same as a disappointingly low 7.0, and a shitty Radiohead album will still beat out a good Bright Eyes album every time.

Pitchfork has been hated on plenty by pretty much everyone, but they can't be blamed for doing what they're doing. The people love it. I can't remember the last time I anticipated an album and didn't check what score Pitchfork gave it, just for kicks. Out of stupid blind habit. They make some good points about  all the albums they review (usually), but give them context that the average fan won't experience. For example, on the paragraph about how Kanye West's My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (which looks just decadent when italicized), Pitchfork went on and on about Kanye's horrible public persona, the emotional personal struggle he went through overcoming the despise of the American people, which is, by all means, critical to understanding why Kanye made the album what it was, but, other than some spare lyrics here or there, it isn't what the fuck the album is. They mention the album in one sentence – the last one. Now sure the album is a product of the context, but what about the millions who hear the music and not the motive? I don't blame someone for not giving a shit who Kanye West is. However, it's a detriment to Big Boi if his album was just, regularly just made? Like an album? Stupid.

To some it makes the album better, to others it doesn't matter. That's the point. It's different depending on which set of ears it goes into. All music is. All art is perceived differently by different people.

Video games: review 'em. They aren't quite art. Though they have artistic qualities. There are elements of gameplay, story continuity, validity and smooth production quality that separate them from pure interpretive art. Things like movies, books, music and obviously everything artier than that should be thought about and discussed, but not rated. A rating coming from a media outlet puts a template in one's head from which to interpret a work of art. If someone says something sucks, but it's actually really good, it will take a lot more to sway your opinion from what popular perception of it already is.

Do you see what I'm getting at here?

Thank you for your time.

--Eliot Sill

Let's Talk Fruits and Vegetables

A true story about redemption and unrequited love by Brendan Cavanagh

Since coming home for a month away from school, I've learned that change is much more apparent when you've been away for a while. For instance, the intersection of Monroe/Old Jacksonville and Veterans Parkway now boasts a staggering nine hundred and seventy five lanes, the curtains in my living room have been replaced for the first time in my memory and a Cranberries' Greatest Hits CD sits in my car. I first paid little attention to the album, assuming it was an impulse buy of my sister's or my parents'. I knew of the Cranberries- that they were a popular Irish rock band with a female lead vocalist in the 90s- and could name at least two of their songs, but I did not really feel any obligation to give the CD a listen as I commandeered the family minivan for the duration of my break. For one thing, I've grown to distance myself from purchasing greatest hits CDs like I did in grade school because there's just something inherently wrong about it. Every time I see that 20th Century Masters logo, I cringe.

Anyway, one night I was driving myself and a buddy to our friend's house, and on the way he pointed out the Cranberries CD in the car and suggested we listen to the first track, "Dreams." I reluctantly assented, but after about two seconds of hearing the lovely Dolores O'Reirdan's voice again for the first time in years, I was sold. Over the last week and a half or so, I've played the first three tracks of that CD every time I've driven the car. I don't know what it is! I've fallen in love with the music, maybe more with Dolores O'Reirdan herself.

O'Reirdan is probably the best example of a dichotomy there is. Her voice is smoother than Dove chocolate, sort of swimming across the vibes provided by the backing band and flitting into my ears. She sounds like one of those ideal charming lasses from the Old Country, like Janet Munro's character in Darby O'Gill and the Little People. I can see her serenading me from under a tree in a green field while Sean Connery plows and hoes in the garden and Darby gets drunk and makes deals with his leprechaun friends.

But then you look at pictures of her and she's this edgy, punk-rock type chick with piercings and Cons and a Pixies-style haircut. I can imagine getting all spiffed-up and taking her out for a drink, where she'd subsequently cream me in a drinking contest- for money- and brazenly, yet somehow sexily, exhaling a plume of cigarette smoke into my face while she tells me what a bitch I am. I think I would be simultaneously confused and turned on.




Basically, I've only listened to the first three tracks, "Dreams," "Linger" and "Zombie" because they're the top three singles, they're incredible and I'm just too apathetic to give the rest of the compilation a chance. I'm okay with my fear of the unknown, though, because I know what I like, and I really like the first three songs. "Dreams" has O'Reirdan softly crooning verses about love and all that, but honestly, it's not about the lyrics to me, it's the delivery. She sounds so damn cute and anguished, and then she comes in for a powerful, wordless chorus of musically guttural Irish moans. Linger has the opposite effect on me, though. The verses are nice and quiet, but they build up to a crescendo where in the chorus, O'Reirdan soulfully sings about trying to get over this guy who left her for another woman, but she still has such strong feelings towards him no matter how hard she tries to move on. I want her to give up on that loser and sing to me like that! If I had a cute Irish girl tell me, "You know I'm such a fool FER youuuuu" I would melt into her arms. Ladies, take note. "Zombie" is cool, it's nice and loud and political and nicely referenced by Ed Helms of The Office, but I prefer the romantic aspect of the first two tracks.

All in all, the Cranberries are a talented band, but Dolores O'Reirdan has seen my heart- AND IT IS HERS.