New bandcamp page!

I've started a bandcamp page as a place to keep my band's rough cuts (and maybe eventually some polished studio tracks). One track from our first gig this past Saturday is already posted. Check it out here!

More audio and maybe some videos to come.

Reality Bites, a mini-review

Nice tights, Janeane.

Speaking of twenty-somethings, I recently watched the cult classic Reality Bites, starring a young Winona Ryder and Ethan Hawke, with Steve Zahn, Janeane Garofalo, and Ben Stiller, who also directs. It's a healthy dose of early 90s culture, and though it fits the format of a standard romcom, its cult status is deserved. It's well-made and acted and it gets to the heart of the things that terrify 22- to 28-year-olds*.

It's about the romantic, despairing, and hopeless pursuit of a dream job; it's about the confusion of first loves and complicated friendships; and it's about trying to find a path to follow, whatever that may be. (I know, I know, cue the tiny violins, but stick with me.) The characters strive to reconcile their circumstances and their lifestyles while going through a time period that every self-aware adult recognizes. Coming out as gay, getting fired from a job (or twelve), experiencing amazing sex, getting that first taste of realistic success, suffering an AIDS scare -- even if these aren't our lives word for word, we can see the vibrations and understand where they're coming from. The breakdowns, the celebrations, the joy, the despair -- it's a 98-minute lyric poem.

I read Annie Dillard's The Writing Life this week for my revision workshop and pulled this quote from it: "How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives." The simplicity of this statement just bowls me over. It's actually a beautifully freeing thing, because it implicitly awards the individual the choice of how to spend their time. It could have read "how we choose to spend our days is how we choose to spend our lives." Each day we're awarded 24 hours, and we spend them like currency -- this much on sleep, this much on work, this much on play, this much on dicking around and watching The Bachelorette on Hulu.

But those little choices each day build up, and as time passes they'll be what we remember because that's what actually happened -- not necessarily what we wanted or expected. So we seek this status quo, a state of being and set of habits, that will bring us the utmost happiness. For some that happiness is a secure job and a passionate love affair and a four-door sedan. For others it's a gypsy lifestyle, always on the move, always experiencing new things. There's no wrong answer, both the movie and Annie Dillard tell us, but you should probably at least be attempting to seek one out. You know, in your free time.

* I assume the quarter-life crisis will be over by 28. At least that's what I'm hoping, because I'm pretty sure the "I'm about to be 30" crisis will take over either way.

--

UPDATE, 12:13 p.m. - So after posting this, I continued daydreaming and waxing philosophic about being 24 and yadda yadda, and I had a thought. An extension of a thought, really, regarding how we spend our time like cash at a farmer's market, handing it out in return for various satisfactions. Why waste time, then, doing something you don't like -- spending on things you don't care for? I understand that people work jobs they hate because they need the money and that couples stay together for the kids sometimes. But a vast majority of the time, there's no one forcing us to conduct our lives any which way. So why wait around, being unhappy? It's like wasting money -- except that money is replaceable whereas time is not.

Oh...my...God...could it be? Could they have been RIGHT ALL ALONG?!!



Happy summer, everyone.

Another version of Velocity

Still uploading videos from Tyranny of Dave's show at Simon's Tavern in Andersonville last weekend. You've heard this one before, but I like this version. Didi is such a killer guitar player, it's ridiculous, and I just love singing this song. Lyrics are below if you're interested in singing along to everyone's favorite astronaut waltz. Buy the original track (with Dave's vocals) here. Hope you enjoy it!



"Velocity" by Tyranny of Dave
Here in the cockpit there's nothing but dreams and dismay
Sometimes it feels like this expensive tin can
Does nothing 'cept sit here and wait.
Now I'm hearing the countdown, but at seven my thoughts drift away.
As the countdown gets lower I move toward the ground
And as we lift off I finally touch down
Glad I'm not leaving and proud of my narrow escape
But I'm pulling away...

And they'll be with the one who's not right for them
And leave me in misery, floating in gravity.
And they'll kiss the one who causes me pain
It's not a question of vanity, it's just a trick of velocity.

Unbuckle my seatbelt and I want to get up but I stay
And Houston is yappin' and though I am dreamin'
I flip all the switches they say.
Is it me or the ship that starts to buckle and sway?
As I pitch forward my head hits the floor
And someone yells but I'm not there anymore
I burn on reentry and look for a soft place to lay...

As they sleep with the one who makes me lie awake
As I drift through the infinite, the air's cold and intimate
And they'll marry the one who's not right for them
Can you tell me what plane that is without looking overhead?
You should know by the sound, if you look up we'll both be dead
I'll fall to the ground into your open mouth.
There's no room inside you now so I'll have to get out
And fall back up to my craft
And answer those questions they'll ask,
Like what was I thinking about?

And I guess I'll marry the one who's not right for me
I've done it several times
And it's always worked out alright
You can't fight velocity.

Roman Road

My band played a show last night at Simon's Tavern in Andersonville. (Go for the glogg, stay for the live music.) Highlights include the many wonderful friends that showed up to support me and the guy sitting at the bar that wrote me a lovely note full of compliments. (A note! An actual written note! Chivalry is not dead!) My friend Shara took some video that I'll be uploading to YouTube this week. The first one, "Roman Road," is below.

We don't have any more shows lined up at the moment -- we need to find a permanent bassist -- but I'm having a blast and looking forward to more opportunities to make music with the incredibly talented musicians of Chicago. I'll keep you posted, but in the meantime be sure to "like" us on Facebook for more photos, videos, etc.

Now to find some caffeine...

The Power of YouTube

As you read this, YouTube is shaping the future of the music industry. Somewhere, sitting on a Disney bedspread and munching on some brand of neon, processed American "nourishment," there is a seven-year-old child surfing YouTube and dreaming of being a rock star.

The 'Tube is taking place of the tube.

It's certainly not news that we're turning away from television and toward the Internet -- but how will that affect the iconic musicians of The Future? There are exponentially more resources available to each new generation. Can you imagine if Jimi Hendrix had lived in the '00s? (Or even past age 27?)

For the sake of The Future -- that is, the amorphous but finite stretch of time ahead until we club the planet over its metaphorical head and drag it into the depths of hell, summarily wiping out the human race (all inevitable) -- I hope the kids in the footie pajamas are idolizing guys like Jack White.

We're due for some new prodigies soon. And Justin Bieber definitely doesn't count.

On a personal note, it appears my Weezer era is drawing to a close, in favor of my blues rock era. Don't worry, Rivers. I'll be back.

Velocity, from ToD's April 3 Show at the Gallery Cabaret

My band, Tyranny of Dave, performed a live set last night at the Gallery Cabaret in Chicago! My roommate Brittan was kind enough to film one of our songs on a little point-and-shoot camera, so I've got a song to share with the ever-loving Internets. We also had a camcorder set up so as soon as I can figure out how to transcribe technologies, I'll get that up as well.

Our next show is at Simon's in Andersonville (Chicago) on Sunday, May 8. Hope to see you there!

--

UPDATE, 9:16pm: I've got photos for you too!

I mean, lyricists are writers too

As you may or may not be aware, Dear Reader, I've embarked on a second blog experiment. The other blog -- let's think of it as a mistress, really, because I loved you first -- is dedicated to celebrating "quality" music, where "quality" music is defined as "that which sounds as good if not better performed live" (as opposed to in a studio, within arm's reach of the auto-tune button).

Inspired by Friday Jams, the blog is called Dai(ly) Jams and (shockingly) it features one live music video per day. I encourage you to check it out, because so far I'm pretty much just talking to myself. Which, you know, isn't new, but it gets boring after awhile. I'd especially love video suggestions!

In writing Dai(ly) Jams, I've realized something of a paradox: Despite my intrepid insistence that I'm a writer, I actually spend very little time listening to song lyrics. I'm terrible at memorizing lyrics -- an ailment my band meets with bemused frustration, no doubt -- and I almost never fall in love with a song because of the words.

It might have something to do with my childish ignorance of and aversion to poetry. I tend to recoil from things that I need to interpret -- foreign languages, Wall Street jargon, Edgar Allen Poe, to name a few. And a lot of songs tend to be veiled homages to...whatever. Their long lost lovers' boyfriends' dog. Or something. But some poetry -- for example, this piece by Carolyn Forché -- is undeniably incredible. The writing is exquisite, the execution damn near perfect.

Maybe my problem with poetry -- like that of romance novels -- is that most of what I've read is bad. In that spirit, and assuming that my formal poetry education began and ended with Dr. Seuss, I'm taking suggestions for must-read poetry. Fire away.

I lied.

I'm totally not over my Weezer crush yet. And it's Thursday! Sorry, Girl Talk.

Girl Talk: A New Live Music Frontier

I WANT TO BE THERE.

I come from a family of concert-goers. When I was a kid, my mom met my stepdad while following the Grateful Dead on tour. As a pre-teen, I made a conscious decision to attend my first "real" concert at Carver-Hawkeye Arena in Iowa City. And I have to tell you, the Backstreet Boys rocked my world that night. I was in 12-year-old heaven. There's nothing better than live music, even if it is pop and partially lip-synced.

(I saw the Backstreet Boys again last summer at Ravinia. Everyone there was female, aged 20 to 35. It was a joyous reunion of my original music community.)

But not many acts patronized Iowa City or Hilo, so it wasn't until I moved to Chicago for college that I had access to the good stuff. Mad Caddies, Pepper, The Decemberists, Reel Big Fish, Maroon 5, My Chemical Romance, Keller Williams, blues clubs -- my tastes cover the spectrum. I took a break from live shows after college; they're expensive, and a bunch of my concert buddies had moved away. My triumphant return was marked by my first Weezer show in January and a single weekend in February that featured both The Decemberists and Keller Williams. But this Friday I embark on a genuine first: I'm seeing Girl Talk.

If you're unfamiliar with Gregg Gillis, aka Girl Talk, allow me to educate you:

The first track off "All Day," the most recent Girl Talk release (November 2010).

He's probably the most famous DJ* touring today, and his specialty is mashing up music -- everything from current pop to gangsta rap to Elton John to the Jackson 5. In performance, he mixes tracks live, so no two shows are the same. He's been called a lawsuit waiting to happen -- technically he doesn't have permission to use the copyrighted music clips -- but he releases his albums for free and asks people to pay whatever they want, citing fair use. And despite criticism, he's gotten away with it for 10 years, two EPs and five full-length albums. (Check them out here.)

What makes this guy amazing is the way he rehabilitates songs we've long since forgotten. For instance, if you never thought L'il Mama and Metallica made fit bedfellows, you've never listened to "Like This" off 2008's Feed the Animals:

Oh yeah, and Mya can come too.

One of my rare regrets from undergrad is skipping the show he played at our student center in 2008. I plan to set the universe right this Friday when my friend Christina and I see him live at the Congress. I expect nothing less than a life-changing experience.

When it comes to live shows, I'm all about preparation. Enjoy with me.

And just for fun: A list of all the artists and songs sampled in Girl Talk's Feed the Animals, courtesy of sjheil on Flickr:


* He's not a fan of the term, but "artist" and "musician" don't really convey a full understanding of how he makes music.

Ke-dollar sign-ha

I desperately wish I'd been at the planning session for this music video.

"So...we need unicorns. Unicorn heads on human bodies. Yes. Alright, that's solid. What else? How about James Van Der Beek? Yeah, the guy from Dawson's Creek. No, I don't think he's done anything since then...What? He was in an episode of Ugly Betty? Uh, okay, that's great. He also does some Funny or Die videos, but those are usually riding the Dawson gravy train too, so it's a wash. Anyway, he'll be cheap, and he's still pretty good-looking. Okay, so how do we get Dawson Leery into the unicorn room? He should send Ke$ha something. What, like a diamond? A love letter? Hmmm...how about a piece of cheese? That's a winning idea right there! What kind of cheese? Well, that's a silly question. Only one type of cheese deserves this sort of centerpiece attention, and that's muenster. No, fuck you, I hate Swiss, we're using muenster. Okay cool. Unicorns, James Van Der Beek, and muenster. We're missing something. Wait, what's the song about again? Let's look at the lyrics:

Hahahahahahahahaha.Dance.

Back door cracked
We don't need a key
We get in for free
No VIP sleaze

Drink that Kool-Aid
Follow my lead
Now you're one of us
You're coming with me

It's time to kill the lights
And shut the DJ down
(This place about to)
Tonight were taking over
No one's getting out

This place about to blow (blow) (x4)
This place about to...

Um...yeah, I don't know. Can Dawson dance? No, no, he definitely cannot dance. Let's just ignore the lyrics, give Dawson and Ke$ha rainbow laser guns, and call it a day.

Oh, also Ke$ha will make out with one of the unicorns. The one with an eye patch."

I think I'm pursuing the wrong career path.

It's Weezer Thursday!

The babbling just kills me.

Also, check out the hair on Rivers. So 1994. Maybe it's the geek chic thing, but I definitely prefer his current look.

How might one wrap a heart in clover, and for what purpose?

My love of old music started early. This song would be the unequivocal winner if I were ever held at gunpoint and forced to choose the best recording ever made. Let's hope that never happens, but it's nice to know that I'm prepared for anything.

Happy Valentine's Day! (Or, per your preference, Singles Awareness Day.)

Ode to Elvis

I took an informal poll this evening of my friends' first CDs. The answers, unsurprisingly, were scattered; we covered everything from the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Pearl Jam to the Beach Boys and boyband realm (B2K, *NSYNC and of course BSB) to, adorably, the soundtrack to the beloved family film Andre. (It's about a seal or something.)

Now 4 was also mentioned, which is a little depressing when you realize that as of this year we're on Now 37 and we've gone from Hanson and Blink 182 and Britney to Ke$ha and Rihanna and Mike Posner. Kids these days, I tell you.

(But seriously, Hanson's still got it.)

Anyway, my first CD was an Elvis Presley "Greatest Hits" compilation.

Yeah. So awesome.

The King made an impression on me. In fourth grade, we each had to pick a state and do a presentation about that state. I chose Mississippi because, you know, who wouldn't? Double vowels FTW. Early in my extensive research in the elementary school library, I learned that Elvis Presley was born in Mississippi before he moved to Tennessee and made a name for himself. He obviously shared my love for the double vowel states. I was smitten. In the end my state project focused exclusively on Elvis. I don't recall how my teacher felt about that but I graduated the fourth grade so I guess it was okay.

Other loves followed. Beach Boys, Spice Girls, Blues Traveler, Phish. (My parents were -- are -- hippies.) Eventually the King and I lost touch. I reached further beyond my years, to Aretha Franklin and Etta James and Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby. When I was 12, I was convinced that I had been born 30-60 years too late. My friends learned the words to "Baby Got Back" and I learned the words to "Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered."

I'm now older and wiser and realize that Sir Mix-a-Lot and Ella Fitzgerald are not mutually exclusive. There's room in my heart for both the Supremes and the Smashing Pumpkins. Weezer and BB King can coexist with Britney and Ke$ha.

But Elvis. Elvis was my first.

Jack Attack

My mother (of Friday Jams fame) has gotten me hopelessly hooked on Jack White. (After I introduced her to him in the first place, I might add.) For those who don't know, 35-year-old Mr. White is being hailed as the prodigal musician of a generation. He sings, plays every instrument in the band, and was the "under 40" representative on It Might Get Loud, talking guitars and shooting the shit with U2's The Edge and Led Zeppelin's Robert Plant. Kind of a big deal.

The band that introduced him to the spotlight, The White Stripes, announced their official breakup on Wednesday. According to the statement, it's not for any ill reason, but simply that both members (Jack and his ex-wife Meg) are moving on to new projects. Maybe they got sick of playing "Seven Nation Army" over...and over...and over...

It's just so damn catchy.

Happily, Jack's already got a bunch of other stuff going on. He fronts The Raconteurs, who have put out a couple of great records already, and in his newest project he's playing drums, guitar and sharing vocals with Alison Mosshart (of The Kills). My first exposure to The Dead Weather was this provocative video, called "Treat Me Like Your Mother." And yes, my mother showed it to me first.

The live version is just as good if not better. Next time Jack comes to town, who's going with me?

Come on. That's awesome.

"God Damn You Half-Japanese Girls"

A couple weekends ago I saw Weezer at the Aragon with my friend Laura. I've been completely obsessed ever since, particularly with this song (off the Pinkerton album, which they played in full when I saw them) and video. Happy Friday!

I love the moment around 2:15 when they've been going double-time and then they HIT IT and go halftime again. Every time it happens, no matter where I am -- sitting at my desk, on the el, on the treadmill -- I have to stop and do a little head bang dance.

Also, I will boldly* declare here, in print, on this blog, on the Internet, which means it's forever, that the Aragon is the best music venue in the country. Dare to argue?

* GET IT?

Friday Jams

Nom.

I got a lot from my parents. Shelter, food, love and support, an inexplicable love of Velveeta, a sense of humor that relies heavily on teasing. "We tease because we love," my mom would say when I was growing up. Apparently unaware of the tenuous social standing I held at age 13, she'd lean out of the car after dropping me off at my junior high: "Have a good day, Pookie Bear!! I looooove yoouuuuuuu!" Oh. Dear. God.

Beyond a thick skin, perhaps the most tangible thing I inherited from my parents was their insatiable love of music. I grew up listening to Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, the Doors, Pearl Jam, Jimi Hendrix. Primus and Blind Melon and Dave Matthews and James Brown and Jamiroquai and Smashing Pumpkins and Phish. It was an eclectic bag, but it was the music I knew. I'd walk around at age three singing "Bag it, tag, it takeitotheboerandohohohoh" -- much like this kid, actually. My first concert was Blues Traveler at age four, and my mom spent a good chunk of my toddlerhood following around the Grateful Dead on tour. That's where she met my stepdad, actually -- on a road trip to a show. Almost 20 years later, they're still together. (D'awwwww.)

Thanks for bringing them together, Jerry!

Eventually I rebelled, music-wise. I brought Spice Girls and boy bands into our home, and things got tense for awhile. I remember once, I was about 10, singing along to some Spice Girls lyrics in the backseat. My mother turned around to look at me, incredulous.

"What are you saying?"

"It's a song, Mom. It's called 'When Two Become One.' It's awesome, it's the Spice Girls!"

She stared at me, perplexed. Then she slowly and silently turned back around. Years later, I finally understood the lyrics, and her horror.

Not that her music was innocent. Curtis Mayfield and Jim Morrison and Patti Smith weren't exactly celibate, drug-free saints. But the thing I was missing in my youth was an appreciation of why my parents (particularly my mother) liked the music they did: It was well-done. Well-produced. Smart, or innovative, or completely original. But most of all, it sounded just as good or better live than it did on an album. Real music cred, real musicians. Most of what I listened to between the ages of 12 and 22 would not fit that criteria. (Sorry, Britney.)

I only get to visit my parents once or twice a year, so each time I go home, I load up on new music. On the most recent trip last month I acquired an immediate obsession with the defunct Chicago band Soul Coughing; before that, it was Keller Williams (who I'm seeing live for the second time next month at the Park West). The Spice Girls and BSB still have a place on my iPod, but now they're relegated to nostalgia.

I won't give up Kelly Clarkson though. She's for real.

Sing it, girl.

My parents, for their part, have continued to evolve in their musical tastes and endeavors. They persist in finding and re-finding bands from every decade; my mom has been on a Jack White binge lately, which I take credit for. (See? It goes both ways!) They probably wouldn't be crushed if most of the 1980's fell into a black hole, though.

A few years ago my parents got it into their heads that they'd be great a running a radio station because, well, they'd probably be great at running a radio station. Especially in Hilo, Hawaii, where most of the FM radio stations are absolute crap. (Sorry, 808 readers, but it's true.) They started organizing and editing their musical collection, digitizing the hundreds of hours of CD music and getting it ready for broadcast. For awhile they maintained an online streaming radio station called Gecko Rock, but that project fizzled after a some months of just a few (but devoted) listeners here and there.

Around the same time, the dreaded happened: My parents joined Facebook. I didn't really mind, but the constant barrage of my mom's Mafia Wars notifications and Dan's links to music videos on YouTube grew tiring, so I pretty much ignored them.

Then something weird happened. They created a new Facebook profile called "Friday Jams" and invited me to be its friend. It turns out there were so many friends posting videos on Dan's wall (in reaction to the 10 videos per hour he'd post himself) that they decided to move it to a separate account dedicated just to music videos. Now with around 100 friends, a solid fifth of whom post regularly, Friday Jams is buzzing almost 24 hours a day with music videos.

Screen shot.

My mom describes it as the best market research for a radio station in history. You post a song and then people post songs related to it; it's an "Oh you like that band? Try this!" method. And it works. Their library has grown exponentially, along with their dreams of running an actual FM station.

The original concept of Friday Jams was that a theme would be posted every Friday - colors, cities, "sticky stuff," jam videos, and the like -- and people could post their hearts out, "like" each others' music, and so forth. But soon people were grumbling that the theme was stale by Monday night, so a new mid-week theme has become a regular feature.

Bring some music and a sense of humor and you'll find a community that welcomes all music tastes with open arms. A favorite theme was "food fight," posted on Thanksgiving. After they ran out of food songs, people started throwing plates and knives and forks. In general, when people get sick of the theme, they'll start threatening to post videos of the Muppets.

What kills me about this whole thing is that my parents -- members of a generation that use Facebook completely differently than mine, and who came after us -- have managed to find a whole new purpose for the number one social networking site. A few individual souls have found their way to Friday Jams on their own, but for the most part my parents invited their friends, who invited their friends, who invited their friends. I friend-suggested John Popper, the front man of Blues Traveler, who accepted the invitation but has yet to post a video. (And I doubt he ever will, but isn't that cool?!)

I really love Blues Traveler.

Friday Jams is the next iteration, the interactive version, of Pandora. And you don't have to pay for it. Whether or not an FM station results, it's absolute genius, for users and founders alike.

And hey, it's Friday! Today's theme? Chicago! Don't worry, I've already covered the Blues Brothers and Kanye and OK Go. If you've got something to add, or if you want to glance in on the fun, check out the phenomenon here.

And don't feel obligated to accept if my mom Facebook friends you. Seriously, the Mafia Wars thing is really annoying.

---
UPDATE, 1:31 pm: My mom pointed out that there is a picture from the trip on which she and Dan met. Check it out:

Bunch of hippies. Mom's in the red dress, Dan is fourth from the right, and I'm...noticeably younger.

White House Poetry Slam

This video apparently went viral back in the spring of 2009, but I missed it until my friend Franklin sent it to me this weekend. If you haven't heard of Lin-Manuel Miranda, here's a crash course: He's Puerto Rican, born in New York and in his early twenties he penned the music and lyrics for In the Heights. By age 28 he was playing the lead role in the Broadway production and winning Tony Awards and Grammy Awards and a bunch of other awards. He also helped Stephen Sondheim translate West Side Story into Spanish for a stage adaptation. Dude's brilliant, and his way of bending and mixing words is unreal. (He also really seems to "get" it: He taught English for awhile at his former high school in Washington Heights.)

I'm not terribly familiar with the slam poetry world, but sometimes a performance (or performer) just stops you in your tracks and demands that you listen. Miranda is one of those. And you have to love performance art that your high school U.S. History teacher would appreciate.

And look! We now have proof that Michelle Obama can snap. Of course, with those arms, we never really had any doubts.

It's my Friday

I'm going to Hawaii tomorrow for a long overdue vacation and to see my family. As a result, I'm finding it hard to get anything done today. Join me.

This is pretty much the best thing I've seen since the Pachelbel Rant. Enjoy!



via Gabby Frate.

Yeah, Toast

Last Leaf

OK Go | Myspace Music Videos

With this video, released yesterday, OK Go continues to blow everyone else out of the water when it comes to music videos. At this point we can safely assert that the treadmill guys (53 million views, holy crap) are more than just a gimmick; they obviously see the music video as an art unto itself.

Last Leaf is the latest song off the 2010 album Of the Blue of the Colour of the Sky to get the video treatment: check out WTF?, White Knuckles, and End Love, as well as two separate videos for This Too Shall Pass (video 1, video 2), the first one of which features members of the Notre Dame Marching Band.

Bo Burnham Update

After spending so much time on this post last week, I caved and paid the $8 from Amazon for the new (DRM-free) Bo Burnham album. And you guys...it's pretty good. Mostly recordings from live shows, with a few studio versions, it's a comedy album that I'd put in the same league as Stephen Lynch, with more re-listenability than Dane Cook.

Also, two weeks ago Collegehumor posted an instructional video on how to parlay playing the piano into getting laid starring -- you guessed it -- Bo Burnham. (Embedding disabled, you'll have to hit the link, but it's worth it.) Apparently all it takes is some hair flipping, arpeggios and scribbling of notes. PMA boys, take note.