I've started adding a little bit of vanilla soy milk to my coffee in the morning. I was always against putting anything in coffee - I thought coffee was delicious enough on its own and it didn't need all these kinds of ridiculous things to dress it up. It's like putting a sweater on a dog. But I've started adding vanilla soy milk and I'm kind of getting into it. The most obvious benefit is that it cools the coffee down to a drinkable temperature almost immediately. This has had a profound impact on my cup/hour ratio, something that is especially important in the morning when I need to pack in as much caffeine as possible. I think I like the taste, but I'm still deciding. The soy milk mutes the natural flavor of the coffee a bit, makes it a little less complex and a whole lot less intense. I don't think I could make the switch for every cup of coffee I drink, but it's not a bad thing to wake up to.

So, I spent a lot of time in Nebraska last year and the year before that collecting economic data for my old job. I'd fly in the day before my first appointment, which was usually in the morning. There was no way I could have made a nine o'clock in, say, Auburn if I wasn't already in the state. I'd fly in the day before and get up very early and drive to some rural part of Nebraska, usually drinking Diet Coke because I didn't have anyway to bring the hotel coffee with me. I'd sometimes drive for an hour and a half each way, so I was always sure to burn at least one mix CD. Driving down rural highways in Nebraska at dawn can be surreal. You can always see the horizon and the highways tend to be near empty. The speed limit is universally seventy miles an hour. Even when I knew I was going to interview a hostile respondent, driving to their office felt liberating. I also got some great music listening in.

Engine Down's "Songbird" was one of those songs that I first heard by choosing it at random for a mix CD. I've listened to the song in a variety of settings and none have been as complimentary as those morning drives in Nebraska. The vocals sound tired, as if the singer woke up minutes before recording the song and the band never really seems to step forward and take command from him. The rhythm section sets a great groove but the guitarists seem content to sit behind it and add depth with a smattering of dissonant chords. There's neither the tension nor the enveloping sound of warm guitars and strained vocals that I've come to associate with post-hardcore. The song feels under-developed at times and that works in its favor.

The song's empty space is relaxing. It trusts the listener to appreciate the nuances of the song structure, to notice what the band isn't playing. Engine Down doesn't do this by creating contrast, by showing us what they could be playing and then showing us what it sounds like when they aren't playing it, they just assume the listener will understand. Post-hardcore bands like Small Brown Bike do an excellent job of impressing the listener with their riffs and clever song structures, but it can sometimes feel like a guided tour of the complexities genre. No matter how knowledgeable a tour guide is, we all need sometime to get lost on our own.

I don't miss those drives where I was sure I was going to be late to an appointment (I never was) or frantically looking for a road sign because I hadn't seen one in fifteen minutes and I was sure I was lost (I never was). I do miss those times when I knew I didn't have to turn off a particular highway for a half hour or an hour. I miss those times when there was no need to do more than concentrate on driving, when I could listen to a song like "Songbird" and not think about when or how the next turn was going to come. Otherwise, you know, it's just Nebraska.

"Songbird" - Engine Down

This is kind of amazing for all the wrong reasons, some of which I'm sure I couldn't even explain.

The Washington Post ran this article a while back where violin virtuoso Joshua Bell posed as a street performer and played in a crowded DC Metro station. The author seemed delighted that most people didn't realize that they were quickly walking by one of the greatest violin performances they would ever hear. The writing is a bit smug, but the idea is pretty interesting and it does give us a bit more information on how context and environment affect the way we hear music. Despite Joshua Bell's achievements, he was likely de-legitimized by most people who saw a street performer and chose to block him out. But for those people who were receptive or who didn't have a chance to make that judgment, they were treated to a very unique and intimate performance. Although the "test" wasn't conducted with altruistic motives, it brought art and beauty to a place normally devoid of both of those things and that's kind of powerful in its own right.

When I started thinking about the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble and how they often perform on street corners, I was reminded of this AV Club interview with Ian MacKaye. He briefly talked about the problems with playing large venues and how he enjoys the freedom The Evens' softer sound gives him. But The Evens do more than give Ian MacKaye the option of leaving the huge venues behind, it allows him to set up concerts in communities that normally would not have access to his live performances. It reduces the number of people involved in setting up a concert to three: a drummer, a guitarist and whoever owns a room big enough to fit the equipment. For a man who has railed against the dominance of the corporate music industry, those options must seem appealing.

Anyway, there area lot of great things to say about the Hypnotic Brass Ensemble. I could go on about how talented they are or how they make jazz more accessible by using a strong beat to establish a easy to recognize groove. But I'm not going to say any of that. The Hypnotic Brass Ensemble are great because they play impromptu street performances, keep a very low-fi and personal blog, and just generally make their music a more intimate and more accessible art form. People don't play on streets, or in subway stations for that matter, because they won't receive recognition and because their art is not the focus of people's attention. It's humbling and won't help anyone establish themselves commercially. But music should exist outside of concert halls and it should be made available to groups of people who would not normally hear it. It should challenge us and our perceptions of art. One way to do that is to strip it of all its gloss and present it as is. I just don't think many bands would be up for that challenge.

NY Times video about the group

I very briefly did some writing for Stylus Magazine in 2006. I contributed to their music blog series and even did a few podcasts for the site, but it wasn't meant to be. I found many of the articles on Stylus to be a bit stuffy and certainly not in line with my musical tastes at the time. I thought it would be smart, or at least fun, to differentiate my writing from the rest by adding a pinch of humor. That pinch occasionally turned into a handful and I'm sure that was a problem.

The man who ran Stylus, Todd Burns, was nice enough to offer me an opportunity to contribute when I submitted a review of The Lawrence Arms' Oh! Calcutta. They even reviewed the album on the site and, although they didn't use anything from my review, it was a nice nod. Todd ran Stylus himself and somehow managed to live off the site while residing in New York City. He was always helpful and when Stylus closed up shop, I felt bad for him. Stylus didn't do enough to differentiate itself from Pitchfork. It did have a good appreciation of dance music and I felt like it really tried to be this international forum for music lovers to share their passion, but that wasn't enough. It lacked the pretense of coolness that Pitchfork had manufactured and I think it failed to make the case on why it should have been the go to source for music criticism. I was sad because I thought there was something more intimate about Stylus. Music journalism can be so sterile sometimes, so TMZ and sometimes so breathtakingly desperate to establish the writer's credibility as an arbiter of coolness that the actual enjoyment of the music gets lost. I appreciated Stylus' efforts to create dialogue between music lovers and I think it's unfortunate that more people didn't join in.

Todd has apparently contributed an essay to the prestigious Pazz and Jop awards. I stumbled across this earlier today. I'm glad Todd's writing about dance music, the thing that he seemed to enjoy discussing the most, and I'm glad he's doing it on such a grand scale.

Anyway, I thought I'd post an old blog entry I did for Stylus. So... here it is.

My Favorite Chords
I’d like to be Stylus Magazine’s first sponsored athlete. The magazine would pay me a monthly stipend, enough to cover my training costs and maybe help a bit with rent, and in turn I would compete in a variety of events while wearing Stylus regalia. I’m in decent shape (football in high school and club rugby in college), and I imagine I could be quite the competitor.

I’d need a marketing partner, also decked out in Stylus merchandise, to hold a boom-box above their head and play appropriate music while I worked – I’m imagining an attractive, college-aged woman, but really anyone with arms would do. Afterwards, we’d pass out flyers for the site and maybe a couple promo CDs. All songs played during the competition and my inevitable victory would be available at Stylus under the newly featured “Athletics” section.

First event: Competitive Mechanical Bull Riding

I have no interest in getting trampled by some half-ton bull, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to ride one. Competitive Mechanical Bull Riding has all of the thrill with none of the consequences. Further, its varied speeds and electronic controls will allow me to drunkenly talk shit to its operator, on behalf of Stylus of course. “This piece of shit doesn’t have the power to buck Stylus, and you (points to operator) don’t have the fucking balls!” I’ll then take off my novelty “Stylus” shaped sunglasses and throw them to the crowd.

My partner would hold the boom-box above her head and play The Arrivals' “Tornado.” “Tornado” sounds enough like “Rawhide” to make you wonder if it was playing in the background when they wrote this one, but it works. Not many songs can capture the intensity and faint nod towards Southwestern culture that encapsulates my mechanical bull riding.

Second Event: Rock Paper Scissors

Last year’s purse for the national title weighed in at a hefty $50,000. I’d wear a Stylus T-shirt and cowboy hat (Stylus would be written across the front) and every time I beat someone’s throw, I’d make a remark. If I won with rock, I’d say “Stylus will always rock harder than you.” If scissors, I’d shout “Stylus will cut you down, son!” When I won with paper, I’d scoff a bit, shake my head condescendingly and remind my vanquished foe “Come on, you know Stylus has that shit covered,” and maybe pat him on the shoulder before turning away. As a sponsored athlete, I’m there to win, but I’m also there to promote the site and get its name out. I’d put on a show, work the crowd, I’d even argue calls with the ref “Are you blind? He threw rock! His fucking fingers were bent, scissors aren’t bent like that! That’s a fucking rock!”

The boom-box would shake the room with Death From Above 1979’s “Blood On our Hands.” I want to have something rocking to dance to when I mock those I trampled on my way to the title. The audience members will be too distracted by my gyrations and winks to really hear the lyrics, but the heavy cymbals and the frequent references to blood will let them know I’m serious.

Final Event(s): Competitive Eating

We have an obesity epidemic in this country (reads: Milwaukee). It’s time to embrace our troubles. Competitive eating is a sport on the verge of making it big. The annual hot dog eating contest is televised on ESPN and minor events are becoming mainstays at local fairs. I am more than willing to eat my way across the country, shouting out the Stylus name through half-chewed pieces of asparagus.

I would wait until my assistant began playing Duran Duran's “Hungry Like The Wolf” before making my entrance in a full-body wolf costume with “Stylus.Com” shaved into its chest. I wouldn’t speak to the crowd until after I had the trophy in my paws, at which point I’d answer the inevitable “Why a wolf?” question. “Because here at Stylus, we’re always on the hunt for good music,” I’d say with a wink and a point of my claw. Then I’d ask my former competitors if any of them wanted to step out for a bite to eat.

I’m not saying I’m the most athletic person alive, but I’m betting I could bring home a trophy or two. It’s high time Stylus takes that step towards greatness and sponsors an athlete and while I haven’t heard an official response on my offer, I know it’s only a matter of time until I assume that role. I’ve already bought a pair of those novelty sunglasses.

This is definitely not something I would have found on my own, so thanks to the Village Voice's "Status Ain't Hood" blog for showing me this:




The synth on this track is just brilliant. It's ethereal and bouncy and really gives the track a nice playful feel. The boilerplate 808 claps and snare roll fills are great and the whole beat is skillful, but the synth is what really fills it out and does it for me. That and R Kelly is as talented as he is creepy, which is to say very. There was a nice article somewhere about how he's managed to turn most of the bad press against him, including his neighbors' constant complaints to the police, into this nuanced story about how he's being persecuted or something. Regardless, that man can write a good hook and knows where to put his little bursts of harmony over a verse. He just owns that bridge and even though his lyrics sound like they were written by a sixteen year old boy, they somehow work.

But this video is amazing for very ironic reasons only. Rick Ross would apparently rather jump off a bridge then even try to argue his way out of a speeding ticket. Why he thinks it's cool to leave his car, with a license plate, his friend and their synchronized shoulder rubbers is beyond me. Maybe he thinks the cop won't talk to them or track him down by plate number. Maybe he thinks DJ Khaled will handle this one just fine (perhaps by shouting "we tha best" and "I'm from the hood" until he passes out). Either way, it turns out to be a good move because somehow we find Rick rapping on a boat, throwing money everywhere, and hanging out with R Kelly. I guess that trumps a speeding ticket.

Oh, and when he pays off the cop at the end he just says "boss" like it actually means something in that context. I wonder if Rick Ross thinks this shit is funny or just sweet. Either way, it works for me.

I can’t stop listening to 3 Inches of Blood’s “The Forest King.” Whoever produced this smartly lent weight to the very skillful guitar tracks by putting them a few notches higher in the overall mix. The drums are commanding, but they aren’t featured as prominently as they are by 3IOB’s contemporaries and I think that, combined with the band’s playful musical nod towards metal clichés, makes the instrumentation on this song sound like it’s from a different era. I mean, don’t they seem very comfortable with the epic bridge? Everything from the simple kick/snare stomp over the bass solo to the sweet sweet dual guitar action sounds like a spotlight moment for all featured musicians, the sort of stuff that fills stadiums and commands complete attention. But 3IOB isn’t filling stadiums and I don’t think they ever will. They are far too abrasive to have that kind of crossover success, which is maybe one reason why I like them so much. They sound like metal fans playing music for other metal fans without much of the pretense and thrashing-is-a-way-of-life-not-something-you-do-for-fun-ness of many of their contemporaries. For a band with such a ridiculous and pornographically violent band name, they are pretty fucking charming.

"The Forest King" - Fire Up The Blades

I remember where I was when I first heard Avail. I was sitting in my friend Greg’s minivan driving down Lake Cook Rd near Northbrook Court Mall in Deerfield, Illinois. I was in the backseat and the song was “Scuffle Town” off Over The James and I was absolutely certain it was the most amazing thing I had every heard during my 15 years on this planet. Over The James quickly became one of my favorite albums and listening to that album eventually became one of the most powerful and important musical experiences of my life.

Hardcore is at its best when it conveys urgency and sincerity, although a strong showing of one may reduce the need to show the other. Urgency is rarely lacking in most hardcore. Due to the nature of the scene and its narrow appeal, bands have to play their hearts out just to survive and certainly to stay relevant. But sincerity is a different matter altogether. Bands tend to meet this requirement by channeling their rage and frustration through screams and hard-line politics. The musical style suits the expression of these emotions well, but short of subtle stylistic differences the bands are almost interchangeable. There is not a remarkable difference between, say, Strife and Integrity.

At 15 years old, hardcore was still fresh and I was a very serious fan, but even I was getting frustrated with its limitations. Over The James was the first time I heard any band sincerely express complex emotion within the hardcore framework. Vague lyrics about strength and defiance can be fun, but they aren’t nearly as interesting as a song about grappling with regret or alienation and not nearly as compelling as listening to someone swear their support to a friend. Avail legitimized hardcore for me at a time when I was beginning to think it was nothing more than a vehicle for anger in a predictable format.

Over The James became a dependable soundtrack for my complete disillusionment during high school. But unlike countless other bands that made so much sense to me then, I've never stopped connecting with Avail's music. Maybe it's nostalgia, maybe I'm just a fan of the genre, but I'd like to think it's more. I believe Avail wrote those lyrics with sincerity, with the intent to actually communicate the power and complexity of their emotional experience and I think they understand that their opportunity to communicate this is finite. That sort of communication is something we've all done before. It's sincere and it's urgent and it makes for some really great hardcore.


"Deepwood" - Over The James

"S.R.O." - Over The James

"Lombardy St." - Over The James

"Simple Song" - 4 a.m. Friday

"Black and Red" - Front Porch Stories

Davey Havoc, of AFI and wishing he were Glen Danzig fame, once said in an interview that he doesn’t like to discuss what his lyrics mean because it traps the listener in his interpretation of the song and prevents them from seeing a potentially deeper meaning. Davey gave the interview shortly after releasing Black Sails in the Sunset, an album full of vague lyrics about darkness and cryptic song titles in Latin, so his comment was meant more to cover his ass than to explain any kind of personal philosophy. He did touch on an interesting point: how additional media, provided by the band or its management, often deprives the listener of the ability to experience the music on a more personal basis. The overwhelming availability of music criticism, interviews, and music videos leave little mystery to what a song means or what the artist was going through when he or she wrote it. Music videos are especially destructive in this sense, often offering a fully packaged and easily accessible idea of who an artist is and how a song should be interpreted. They have the potential to replace the mental images a song can conjure up with the over-produced sights of a high budget commercial or an artist’s shameless sales pitch. That being said, I think I may like a good music video more than the next person and the video for Prodigy’s “Mac 10 Handle” is about as good a music video for that song as I could have hoped for.

Prodigy is nothing if not gritty and a bit scary. If I’m not mistaken, he’s already in jail for gun possession and has said, very publicly, that if the prosecutor knew about all of the crimes he’s committed and gotten away with, they would have locked him up for far longer. Prodigy never gives a wink to his listeners, not in his music or in his interviews, to indicate that he’s not entirely serious. It makes me a bit uncomfortable because I can’t create a disconnect between what he’s saying and what he actually believes, or in turn, what I’m listening to and what I’m actually supporting. It’s unfortunate because, like I said, I really like this video.

Prodigy’s room is in complete disarray and it’s clear that it only serves as a place to get “high on drugs” and watch TV while planning to kill someone. The lighting gives the scene a warm, but uncomfortable glow. Prodigy seems out of control when pointing his giant knife at the camera, playing with a gun, and chugging liquor – a trifecta that would make any visitor want to leave. But the video really sells me at the end when Prodigy appears haunted by his crime, not out of regret, but more because he’s completely fucking crazy and, you know, now there are even more voices and images running around in his head.

I don’t think “Mac 10 Handle” is as strong of a song by itself. That’s not to say that it’s not good, I just don’t think it effectively creates tension and discomfort in the listener to the extent the video does. The understated beat and disturbing lyrics help, but Prodigy is trying to come across as a loose cannon and that sales pitch has been given so many times by so many rappers, it would take an incredibly remarkable song to do it on its own. Personally, I needed some mirror stabbing to really be sold.