Lonely listening to Joanna Newsom "Ys" on the drive to the Knights of Columbus. The unaccompanied vocal and harp on "Sawdust and Diamonds" is pristine. Newsom's ability to weave together three distinctly separate parts in the same song hits me hard. Is this the triplet approach Dylan's rambles on about in "Chronicles"? See also "Sadie" and specifically the lines about pine cones and digging up bones. I'm a sucker for any song that begins and ends with the same lyrics and Joanna does it effortlessly and "Sawdust and Diamonds" is the perfect example.
Eons sounded like Television? Lead singer with Fender Mustang with soap-bar pick-up looked badass. Arun slammed a crash cymbal off the stand with his fist and acted like nothing happened. They sounded together…I wanna say like Tapes'n'Tapes, or at the very least that some Pitchfork pantywaist would cream his jeans over this. I was very impressed. Tunes on their myspace…not so much.
The Drinking Problem was problematic. All the vocals sounded like they were amplified through an electric razor. I enjoy Eddie more when he's drunk in the Sights. And Dave Lawson when he was barely keeping time in the Metros.
Muldoons…Shane rocked so hard that one of his earplugs flew out of his ear.
Rock and Rummage sale found copy of "Noises from the Garage" with what I believe to be the first ever review of the White Stripes "Let's Shake Hands" as well as the rest of the early Italy product. I'd been searching for this for some time. A steal at $1. Stripes review, by Brian Marshall (who supposedly swore off garage music and dedicated his life to Christianity) goes like this:
"Somewhat new (at least to me) to the no-bass segment of rock 'n' roll (you know, the Oblivians, the Hentchmen, the Revelators, Bantam Rooster, groups like that) are guitarist Jack and drummer Meg White. But while they can kick out the jams with the best of the bunch (the A-side's proof of that and a righteous tune to boot complete with Jack's shrieking vocals and lowdown guitar strummin'), they also have their softer side with a touch of the blues (the B-side, complete with a pumpin' piano). I hope there's more from these folks, cuz I definitely wanna hear it."
Over to the Holbrook Café for the Beehive Recording Showcase spectacular. Newsom's vocals soothe in the car as my headlights are terrifyingly dim. Was Mike Walker in Mule? Can we just say that he was? While "Snowcow" is the best song title I've heard all year, it was incessantly loud in the Holbrook and the fact that it was Cuckold didn't make it any better.
The scene inside was slightly discouraging. Not many people in the room, decorated like a high school dance with balloons tied to the backs of chairs situated around cafeteria-like tables. I couldn't help but wonder if there's only one inherent flaw in the Beehive prospectus…that selling downloads of fairly unknown bands is a hard thing to do. When so many acts are giving away their songs for free via Myspace, will enough people buy into the Beehive family for any of this stuff to make it to a tactile medium? I sincerely hope so as Steve Nawara has poured his heart and soul and "Danger! High Voltage" royalties into this endeavor. And this town can always use more record labels.
Missed Chrome Spiders. Was told they sounded like AC/DC.
The Moonlight were surprisingly great. If Dale Merril can learn to tune his guitar then their "Ponys without the depression skids" sound should win over many. The last thing I'd expect a band with two guys from the Dirtys to sound like.
I had the opportunity to go play dodgeball at my dad's middle school gym class on Friday morning. It was in the back of my mind the entire night as there came an emptiness in my life once dodgeball exited. But the hypotheticals overcame…would I be of sound physical and mental acumen to relive the past glories of my dodgeball days? Would I make a fool of myself? What would I think as a middle schooler playing in gym class against some longhair in his mid-twenties? Do I still have the wicked playground ball curve that I prided myself on in my tweens?
I woke up around 10am, early enough for me to assail a handful of deserving 6th graders. But I collapsed back to rest. The night at Holbrook ended with Eddie Baranek and I literally butting heads, not seeing each other while we leaned in towards the same direction. We both laughed it off hard, but I think he ended up with a bruise on his head and I felt somewhat guilty as I was the sober one and should be a little more aware. I couldn't be held responsible if I broke some kid's leg. And I was almost certain I could do so with a properly placed toss.
My reflexes were not ready and I'd already spent my entire night dodging…table to table, room to room, club to club, Steve-O to Steve-O…perhaps some other time I'll be ready to unleash the assault. This day, I was merely content with having survived.