dear ernst,
listening to neko case reminded me of loretta lynn which reminded me of one of my favorite songs from lynn's most recent album. you may have heard it.
van lear rose was the album jack white called her up and begged her to make and he ended up producing it and it was touted as loretta lynn's comeback album. i sometimes have mixed feelings about jack white. i think he's a bit pretentious but also brilliant. i know you don't like the white stripes [they're SO good tho!] so i won't bother to send you any of that shiet. BUT this song was the first song i had listened to [and i wasn't that big of a white stripes fan at the time] where i got it. i finally understood what the big deal with jack white was. that he can truly produce not just make basic blues rock songs and have a cutesy on stage gimmick.
i remember the first time i listened to Portland Oregon: i was driving up polk street to my apartment on sutter [i think i was even driving in my old mustang - i must have been], stuck in some traffic and listening to the stereo a bit too loud, which is pretty typical. this song came on and just opened with this quick guitar riff and started building right away, really quickly. its like you hear all the instruments that are eventually going to come fourth in the song building speed for 50 seconds. then it drops into the basic melody, moves into the harder beats and picks up. then suddenly its almost like the sound gets separated - parted like the red sea - and here comes loretta lynn's voice through it all: "well portland oregon an sloe gin fizz, if that ain't love then tell me what is, uh huh." i was totally hooked. my favorite line: "well i lost my heart, it didn't take no time. that ain't all, i lost my mind in Oregon."
this song makes me wish i liked gin.
your friend,
gills
"it's been twenty five years of spreading infection"
I knocked Rilo Kiley for so long. Only because I couldn't stand their first big single Portions for Foxes. I thought it sounded like too many other woman fronted one hit wonder bands. My views on Rilo Kiley have since changed and now I'm obsessed with the new Jenny Lewis album. I was drawn to the album when I heard the cover of a Traveling Wilburys song and upon listening the LP in it's entirety for the first time, I immediately wanted to be driving in a Cadillac down a street in Nashville. The amazing harmonies that send chills down my spine and gospel undertones would provide the perfect soundtrack. 
In a conversation, my memory yet again failed me and I was forced to investigate into the matter: the other member of the Traveling Wilburys was ELO's Jeff Lynne. A supergroup, a la The Yardbirds, where each member had a similar moniker that made it seem as though they were a traveling band of brothers. The Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock and Roll claims that they were "by definition the ultimate supergroup" yet their 'brother' gimmick "made them the antithesis of a supergroup." Not buying it. They were just a supergroup with a gimmick composed mostly of amazing songwriting guitarists and a back beat drummer.
George Harrison, alias: Nelson (later Spike) Wilbury
Bob Dylan, alias: Lucky (later Boo) Wilbury
Jeff Lynne, alias: Otis (later Clayton) Wilbury
Tom Petty, alias: Charlie T. (later Muddy) Wilbury
Roy Orbison, alias: Left Wilbury
Jim Kelter [the back beat drummer. apparently not worthy of an alias]
The funny thing about supergroups is that they can never really last more than a few albums. It's like too much concentrated talent, not to mention ego. Clean your whites in pure bleach and watch the fabric get eaten away. Mix in a little oxy clean and a toxic cloud manifests.
For their cover of Handle With Care, Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins compiled a different kind of supergroup – while it's charming to stick with original gimmicky thematics, I'd never truly call them a supergroup. Perhaps an emo-supergroup but that's an oxymoron. Like jumbo-shrimp.
Connor Oberst aka Bright Eyes
Ben Gibbard [Death Cab for Cutie, The Postal Service, All-Time Quarterback]
M.Ward
Musicians that generally irritate me but together are tolerable enough to enjoy the cover as long as I don't listen or think too hard when Ben Gibbard sings Roy Orbison's lines. When I hear his voice I imagine ripping his whiney vocal chords out of his throat with my bare hands. Maybe it's just because when you're in multiple emo bands and emo is popular you get played a lot. Too often, in fact. And it gets to be irritating for people who have to hear that crap everywhere.
[side note: I understand being in multiple bands because being creative and being pigeonholed into a style or image is sometimes undesirable, but why be in multiple bands that sound so fucking alike?]
Oberst sings Dylan's lines - don't get me started. I refuse to comment any further for fear that I'll stop loving the song or the album so much.
With this post, I'm formally disclosing that I am a Rilo Kiley and Jenny Lewis fan. Though I have to admit, I still amuse myself by thinking of her, alongside co-star Fred Savage, making her way to the Nintendo tournament in The Wizard.
In a conversation, my memory yet again failed me and I was forced to investigate into the matter: the other member of the Traveling Wilburys was ELO's Jeff Lynne. A supergroup, a la The Yardbirds, where each member had a similar moniker that made it seem as though they were a traveling band of brothers. The Rolling Stone Encyclopedia of Rock and Roll claims that they were "by definition the ultimate supergroup" yet their 'brother' gimmick "made them the antithesis of a supergroup." Not buying it. They were just a supergroup with a gimmick composed mostly of amazing songwriting guitarists and a back beat drummer.
George Harrison, alias: Nelson (later Spike) Wilbury
Bob Dylan, alias: Lucky (later Boo) Wilbury
Jeff Lynne, alias: Otis (later Clayton) Wilbury
Tom Petty, alias: Charlie T. (later Muddy) Wilbury
Roy Orbison, alias: Left Wilbury
Jim Kelter [the back beat drummer. apparently not worthy of an alias]
The funny thing about supergroups is that they can never really last more than a few albums. It's like too much concentrated talent, not to mention ego. Clean your whites in pure bleach and watch the fabric get eaten away. Mix in a little oxy clean and a toxic cloud manifests.
For their cover of Handle With Care, Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins compiled a different kind of supergroup – while it's charming to stick with original gimmicky thematics, I'd never truly call them a supergroup. Perhaps an emo-supergroup but that's an oxymoron. Like jumbo-shrimp.
Connor Oberst aka Bright Eyes
Ben Gibbard [Death Cab for Cutie, The Postal Service, All-Time Quarterback]
M.Ward
Musicians that generally irritate me but together are tolerable enough to enjoy the cover as long as I don't listen or think too hard when Ben Gibbard sings Roy Orbison's lines. When I hear his voice I imagine ripping his whiney vocal chords out of his throat with my bare hands. Maybe it's just because when you're in multiple emo bands and emo is popular you get played a lot. Too often, in fact. And it gets to be irritating for people who have to hear that crap everywhere.
[side note: I understand being in multiple bands because being creative and being pigeonholed into a style or image is sometimes undesirable, but why be in multiple bands that sound so fucking alike?]
Oberst sings Dylan's lines - don't get me started. I refuse to comment any further for fear that I'll stop loving the song or the album so much.
With this post, I'm formally disclosing that I am a Rilo Kiley and Jenny Lewis fan. Though I have to admit, I still amuse myself by thinking of her, alongside co-star Fred Savage, making her way to the Nintendo tournament in The Wizard.
Ramblin' Man
So, let’s talk about Waylon Jennings. About his 1974 album: Ramblin’ Man.
What you may have not know about Waylon Jennings (what I didn’t know until quite recently) was that Waylon Jennings should have died with Buddy Holly in 1959 on a chartered plane leaving Mason City, Iowa headed to Moorhead, Minnesota but he gave up his seat to the Big Bopper.
[The Big Bopper wrote “Chantilly Lace” the un-official theme song that was sung at the pep-rallies of my first high school. It made no sense for us to sing that song – it just so happened that I went to Chantilly High]
crazy shit. Call it destiny, fate or chaos – the man lived.
Ramblin’ Man is a good album from one of the founders of ‘outlaw country’. Here’s a few highlights:
Side A:
Midnight Rider. One of my favorite songs from the Allman Brothers* and a good cover.
Side B:
I Can’t Keep My Hands Off of You: kind of a cheesy-great break up song.
It’ll Be Her: The song I fell in love with - it’s really charming- I plan on playing this song on my wedding day**
[somewhere in here I had a rant about why I listen to classic rock.. about how modern day rock is dead. About how mainstream rock stations are barely staying alive by playing a variety of ‘alternative’ selections from their ‘vault’ that existed sometime before Limp Bizkit came along. And about how there’s not even any hope for music from within mainstream hip hop stations that prove on a daily basis that payola is alive and well. But maybe I should save that for another blog. No, wait, actually that’s all I had to say about that...no need for another blog.]
*It’s hard to pick a favorite Allman Brothers song. This is one of them because I just have a hard time picking favorites and I like imagining this as a theme song:. “I’ve got to run to keep from hidin’…no I ain’t gonna let ‘em catch a midnight rider”. When really, I’m not running from anyone but maybe the Oakland Public Library whom I owe money to and the City of Oakland whom I also owe money to.
**the funny thing about designated songs like that is that you can always say you’re going to play them at a certain event. In reality, certain songs can transverse from situation to situation and still have a unique meaning to that particular situation. There are some songs that will only have one particular situation or one particular association and some that can be recycled but not loose their meaning. Perhaps, when that fateful day arrives, I won’t feel the same. I hear this song and picture no one (just some kind of entity) but maybe when the day arrives I’ll realize that in fact it doesn’t fit. That it only fits right now, as a song to an unnamed person. What I’m trying to say is: don’t hold me to it.
What you may have not know about Waylon Jennings (what I didn’t know until quite recently) was that Waylon Jennings should have died with Buddy Holly in 1959 on a chartered plane leaving Mason City, Iowa headed to Moorhead, Minnesota but he gave up his seat to the Big Bopper.
[The Big Bopper wrote “Chantilly Lace” the un-official theme song that was sung at the pep-rallies of my first high school. It made no sense for us to sing that song – it just so happened that I went to Chantilly High]
crazy shit. Call it destiny, fate or chaos – the man lived.
Ramblin’ Man is a good album from one of the founders of ‘outlaw country’. Here’s a few highlights:
Side A:
Midnight Rider. One of my favorite songs from the Allman Brothers* and a good cover.
Side B:
I Can’t Keep My Hands Off of You: kind of a cheesy-great break up song.
It’ll Be Her: The song I fell in love with - it’s really charming- I plan on playing this song on my wedding day**
[somewhere in here I had a rant about why I listen to classic rock.. about how modern day rock is dead. About how mainstream rock stations are barely staying alive by playing a variety of ‘alternative’ selections from their ‘vault’ that existed sometime before Limp Bizkit came along. And about how there’s not even any hope for music from within mainstream hip hop stations that prove on a daily basis that payola is alive and well. But maybe I should save that for another blog. No, wait, actually that’s all I had to say about that...no need for another blog.]
*It’s hard to pick a favorite Allman Brothers song. This is one of them because I just have a hard time picking favorites and I like imagining this as a theme song:. “I’ve got to run to keep from hidin’…no I ain’t gonna let ‘em catch a midnight rider”. When really, I’m not running from anyone but maybe the Oakland Public Library whom I owe money to and the City of Oakland whom I also owe money to.
**the funny thing about designated songs like that is that you can always say you’re going to play them at a certain event. In reality, certain songs can transverse from situation to situation and still have a unique meaning to that particular situation. There are some songs that will only have one particular situation or one particular association and some that can be recycled but not loose their meaning. Perhaps, when that fateful day arrives, I won’t feel the same. I hear this song and picture no one (just some kind of entity) but maybe when the day arrives I’ll realize that in fact it doesn’t fit. That it only fits right now, as a song to an unnamed person. What I’m trying to say is: don’t hold me to it.
The White White Quilt
Ahh, stoner rock. Sometimes mellow head nodding groves work, sometimes they just about put you to sleep. The White White Quilt, despite its somewhat funky bass, fell into the latter category at their February 27th Bottom of the Hill show. At times, I thought the band themselves may had fallen asleep but the presence of sound and the slight gesticulation of strumming arms fabricating sound, proved otherwise. The repetitive melodies and uninspired lyrics became endless jams that seemed to loose direction half way through almost every song. To their credit, The White White Quilt’s bluesy guitar and lead vocals are noteworthy but not enough to carry an uninterested audience through a full set.
Most of the entertainment for the evening came from a group of, what I lovingly referred to as: drunken Irish soccer hooligans. A group composed of one drunk and horny couple and their two equally inebriated and extremely bored friends. Song after song, the couple made out with such ferociousness that blood began to run from the bottom lip of one of the partners. Their friends, having already stumbled around breaking things and obviously feeling like the awkward third and fourth wheels in the group, chose to bide their time by pacing in circles around an Amstel Light bottle placed in the middle of the unused dance floor.
Had it not been for the antics of the foursome of tourists, I may have lapsed into a funky, folky coma.
Most of the entertainment for the evening came from a group of, what I lovingly referred to as: drunken Irish soccer hooligans. A group composed of one drunk and horny couple and their two equally inebriated and extremely bored friends. Song after song, the couple made out with such ferociousness that blood began to run from the bottom lip of one of the partners. Their friends, having already stumbled around breaking things and obviously feeling like the awkward third and fourth wheels in the group, chose to bide their time by pacing in circles around an Amstel Light bottle placed in the middle of the unused dance floor.
Had it not been for the antics of the foursome of tourists, I may have lapsed into a funky, folky coma.
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