I meant to write a little bit about Jeff Mangum’s show over at BAM last weekend in my music post this morning, but to do so would’ve been unfair to the experience a lovely young lady and I had.
And was it ever an experience.
If you’re not a fan of Jeff or Neutral Milk Hotel, you might as well stop reading because this lovefest will completely nauseate you.
Jeff Mangum is a guy that I’ve previously written about as being an ethereal presence. The unicorn of indie. I’ve said that you couldn’t look at him directly, because to do so would be dangerous for your sanity, but in a good way, you know? I’ve even said “screw you” to him on this very blog, for performing as part of exorbitantly high-priced festivals one time, after a decade-ish long disappearance. I couldn’t get tickets to see him last year. And I thought that was it. I assumed he was going back to his home planet, and I’d never get to see him. But I did.
The setup was simple: a chair and 4 acoustic guitars, set up around said chair. Jeff sat in the chair, and played his music. Oh, he spoke to the crowd, joked even. So wait… you’re telling me that Jeff is a normal, human adult male? I honestly had no idea, but apparently he is. He was comfortable up there, grateful for the outpouring of love from the Brooklyn crowd. At this point, we know all the songs from all the angles. Neutral Milk Hotel had only put out 2 full-length albums, not counting the new box set of unreleased songs which, if you really use your imagination, can constitute a 3rd.
He sounded as strong as ever, belting out classic after classic. Holland, 1945, Ghost, Two-Headed Boy, Part 2, Song Against Sex, and on and on and on. But, from what I heard about his previous live shows, there was a significant difference with these new shows.
So Jeff’s opener was The Music Tapes, members of the Elephant 6 collective bringing their own brand of eccentric indie music. They didn’t have a proper drummer, but they did have a drum. They also had a hacksaw. Horns. And guess what? Theirs wasn’t the only set during which we’d see those guys perform.
Oh, Comely, The Fool, and the closer, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. These songs had horns and bendy hacksaws on the record, yes. But this time, they were also present during the live show, the songs being performed the way they were meant to be heard in all their glory. I damn near lost it during Oh, Comely, one of my personal favorite songs of all time. The performance was, and I’ll hate myself for using this word, exquisite.
2011 also had us taking in a performance by The Antlers in a tiny room underneath the Ace Hotel in Manhattan. I won a Turntable.fm contest to get on the guest list for that show, and it was spectacular. We were ridiculously close to the stage:
It was an intimate, amazing show. The most intimate show I’d ever been to. It’s a great thing to think back on and remember.
But, in a packed opera house in Brooklyn, where hundreds upon hundreds of people came to watch a single person who hasn’t put out new music since the 90s, and where I sat in the balcony, far away but with a clear, unobstructed view, I now know the most intimate show I’ve ever been to.
Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds - The Death of You
I don’t know the actual story behind what happened here, but I’m going to throw wild, irresponsible conjecture and speculation out there anyway. Noel Gallagher and brother Liam famously never got along, and the duo didn’t really get along with anybody else either. When they’re not refusing to answer Carson Daly’s questions on MTV about 4,000 years ago, and when they’re not talking shit about Radiohead, an act more famous than they ever were (feel free to challenge that claim), they made some very solid rock music.
Then, after Oasis broke up a couple of years ago, Noel made a new band, called it Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds, invited another former Oasis member (the keyboardist) to join him, and proceeded to make an album that sounds suspiciously similar to Oasis. I mean, really, listen to the record. Would it be that out of place in the Oasis discography? Noel might as well have called the band Noel Gallagher’s Fuck You Liams, You Bloody Wanker Bastard.
Going back to the actual band name, even that’s totally egotistical. Noel Gallagher is backed by the High Flying Birds, nor are the High Flying Birds his companions. They belong to his ass. They’re his High Flying Birds. This guy has to be a total shitbird. I’m glad I’ll never meet him.
Emika - Professional Loving
Let’s talk about someone unrelated here: Lana Del Ray. Now now, please don’t throw garbage at your computer screen in disgust, but I liked Video Games. It was even a Song I Was Loving not all that long ago, at which time I was aware of the growing backlash against her, but had no idea it would get to be this crazy. Was she a corporate plant, made to appeal to the so-called hipster crowd? Was she the latest Z100-dominating pop princess about to emerge from a pod on the top floor of a record label’s office building, where all of these people come from? Or was she just another hopeful singer-songwriter trying to make a name for herself by putting 2 singles into circulation, and seeing what happens?
Whatever the case, people hate her goddamn guts for some reason, and would sooner fashion a rocket to which to strap her and shoot her into the sun, lest they hear that infernal racket called Blue Jeans again.
First, Lana Del Ray was constantly blogged about all over the place, and lauded as the next big act. Then, the backlash begun, mostly backed by the idea that she was a corporate plant and OMG “indie music” is totally pure and not at all controlled by record labels in much the same way every other lousy genre and faux-genre of music is, you guys. Then, she performed on SNL, her career still in gestation and backed by those same 2 songs, Video Games and Blue Jeans. And good god, she was terrible. She sounded as if ants crawled down her throat, and bees attacked her, stinging her with paralyzing venom. I’m surprised her band didn’t quit halfway through Blue Jeans. I’m surprised half the SNL audience didn’t walk out. I’m surprised SNL wasn’t cancelled halfway… you get the idea. She was awful, and the backlash grew even stronger. And then? There’s the backlash to the backlash, by people who wish to hear her entire album before passing any judgments on a pop star, which is something we obviously better sit back and think about pragmatically, since it’s so important.
Meanwhile, the same blogs that posted Video Games, the video for Video Games, and every shitty remix of Video Games, is trying to back the truck up by saying that it’s the strongest song on a terrible album that nobody should hear and Lana Del Ray needs to go away now. Then there are music writers that are dying to pile on, but refrain so that they can sound like they’re really considering Lana Del Ray as a viable musical act, you know? Meanwhile, on the other side of their mouth, they’re still saying her album is awful, and don’t listen to it, and Lana Del Ray needs to go away now.
I’m really looking forward to the backlash to the backlash to the backlash, at which time we’ll realize we’re all idiots to devoting this much time to discussing a mediocre music act.
What I’m saying is that Lana Del Ray, and more specifically the media all around Lana Del Ray, is a total shitshow, and I find that hilarious.
Damien Rice - Volcano
I’ll get out in front of this because I already heard this sentiment pretty recently: Nobody really cares if you’re not into football and couldn’t care less about the Super Bowl, and every little “The Super Bowl is today, which means commercials! And also I don’t have to hear anymore about football!” tweet is oh so annoying as:
Football is played every year, and it’s only going away for 6 months.
In my experience, I’ve never heard this from a person who didn’t turn around and rub Oscars in everybody’s face all up in our social networks 2 weeks later, which is your Super Bowl and is equally unimportant.
All I’m saying is let’s just all accept that some people care about something you don’t, and you care about something some people don’t. That’s just the way it goes. That said, fuck the academy for snubbing Albert Brooks, go Nick Nolte (I’m just dying to hear him make a speech up there) and go Giants.
Laura Veirs - July Flame
Winter is broken. We’ve broken winter you guys. And there is nothing more horrifying. Yes, climate change and all that (which I can’t believe people dispute), but! While the devastating effects on our planet by humans are well-documented and terrifying, what I’m really worried about is, ugh, it’s going to be blizzards and frostbite into May, isn’t it? Today in NYC, it’s going to get up to 58 degrees. On January 27th. Somewhere, a vengeful weather god (or perhaps X-Woman Storm) is going to screw us all on March 21st, laughing and saying “HAHAHA, AND YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SPRING?! HILARIOUS! HOPE YOU ENJOYED JANUARY, STUPID!” and kill us all with freezing acid rain.
Get ready to shovel in June, everyone.
Temper Trap - Sweet Disposition
What is it about eating hot wings that brings you back to being a 15-year-old high school boy? Meaning, you go with your friends to get some buffalo wings, and some douche named Vic decides it’s a good idea to order the hottest sauce on the menu for a separate, to-be-split-among-the-table Gotcha Snack. And you, the rational hero, think “there’s no way I’m having one of those death nuggets.” That is, until you’re dared with the fact that the rest of the table partook. What are you anyway, a wuss? “Oh damnit. Damnitalltohell,” you say, before you pick one up and eat it.
So, what is it about eating a ridiculously hot boneless wing that brings you back to being a 2-year-old toddler? Meaning, you’re crying, you can’t speak clearly, your nose is leaking all over the place, and you’re begging for comfort from a loved one. Because you made a mistake, and it hurts! And please make it go away.
What I’m saying is I hate my friends.
Pterodactyl - Hold Still (only on Spotify)
This was happening on Twitter last night, and I can’t stop laughing every time I look at these:
Alright Groupon, LivingSocial, Google Offers, and all the rest. What is it going to take to convince you guys that I am in no way interested in Brazilian waxes, liposuction, face lifts, or getaways to the faraway land of some hotel in midtown? Just send me deals for movie tickets, Amazon gift cards, books, and food at some local lunch spot and I’m golden. Don’t worry about it being redundant. I really couldn’t get enough of any of those things. Thanks, guys!
Chairlift - Guilty As Charged
This is my flavor of the week, this album entitled Something, and Guilty As Charged has this ridiculously satisfying chorus beat that I hope you enjoy. Just an all-around enjoyable song.
Class Actress - Weekend
I’m trying so, so hard to talk myself out of not needing cable. Let me explain. I don’t need 99% of what’s on cable. Everything I watch is very easily available on Amazon, Netflix Instant, iTunes, and Hulu Plus, all of which would add up to a fraction of what I pay for cable every month even if I max out the amount of money I throw at all of them. It’s very, very simple, especially now that Time Warner has cut MSG loose, robbing me of one of the only two “essential” sports that I can only watch on cable. The other?
Baseball.
Some people will find this silly, but there’s no way I can go without my New York Mets. I can’t do it. The Jets, the other team my sports heart belongs to, are easily viewed on local TV each week, outside of the very rare Monday night game, something I can catch at a bar the 2-3 times it happens, tops. But the Mets? I’d have to subscribe to MLB.tv (for a reasonable price), but wait 90 minutes after the conclusion of every game to watch. Why? Because Major League Baseball has this asinine, ass-backwards rule that you can’t view your local team if you’re in an area their games broadcast. If you saw my cable bill, you’d call me stupid, and ask if I actually think it’s AT ALL reasonable to pay that much money a month for the ability to watch every single Mets game. And I’d reply with “Of course not!” It doesn’t make any sense to anybody, but it does to me. Until there’s a way to watch those games live, or if I get over waiting until 4 hours after first pitch to catch the latest game, I can’t ditch my Mets. Nope.
Paul Simon - The Sound of Silence
Presented in deference to a future oldies post that I hope I put together with any demonstration of competence whatsoever.
This giant Scrabble board is something I wouldn’t mind blowing $12,000 on
You definitely want to click the photo to read the product description of this behemoth, because this wasn’t something just slapped together. Is it worth $12,000, over spending a weekend building one yourself? I’m going to say both of those scenarios are crazy, but hell; if you’re some kind of hotshot who would buy this kind of thing, please, invite me over. Just don’t be surprised when, if you defeat me (that is to laugh!), I do the equivalent of knocking the board off the table, which I’m sure would be as destructive as driving a car through the wall.
Brokelyn’s one of my favorite blogs which, yeah, is very local hence them never really getting a mention here. However! This video produced by the frugal bloggers, a bit of an homage to Portlandia called Brokelandia, wherein 2 folks at a coffee ask each other “did you eat that?” concerning secret or lesser known dishes in local eateries, was too amusing for me not to share.
If you ask me, there’s a lot of stuff in here, shit, if you will, that New Yorkers actually say.
Watch what happens when a record player is hacked to play slices of wood, translating its rings into music. The result is a little bit random, but has a distinct pattern to it. It really starts to liven up at the end.
OH DEAR GOD. This screen grab of Conan O’Brien I took while he was imitating Newt Gingrich’s current wife Callista is something I really, really wish I can unsee.
Hipster dudes don’t wear skinny jeans anymore (at least in BK, not sure about Portland), so please take that off the “101 Cheap & Easy Hipster Jokes” list, thanks.
I just started writing “101 Cheap & Easy Hipster Jokes.”
1. Beardy beard beard beard.
2. Something indie pretentious media blast.
3 etc.
This is about as well timed as possible, So This Blog Happened-wise.
These mash-up photos of Leningrad during the Nazi siege and the same place, Saint Petersburg, today are jarring, stunning
You definitely want to click the photo to check out some more from this series by Sergey Larenkov, but I put this one up here because I found it to be the most jarring juxtaposition.
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