Holy living fuck.

I didn't really know what to expect walking into this show. I'd heard that their shows were very loud, and I'd heard reviews saying that they were christ-handing-you-a-chocolate-shake good and your-mildly-retarded-daughter-has-full-blown-AIDS bad.

The good news was that we didn't have to see the opening band. I don't know what the issue was, but they didn't even set up their equipment. My Bloody Valentine came on at about 9:15 and played for about an hour and a half. They were very good.



They played most of Loveless, which is what I really cared about. Their mix was interesting. It definitely focused on their dissonant guitar noise, as it should have. One thing that may have been accidental was the high mix of their drums. On some of their slower songs, the loud drums gave an almost Shadow-esque hip-hop effect. It was a pretty unique way to hear their sound, if nothing else.

One thing that everyone at that show will remember for the rest of their lives is the fifteen to twenty-minute noise jam at the end of their set. This was pure noise with no melody or rhythm. Simply put, it was probably the loudest experience of my life. I'm not just talking in terms of music. I've seen an AV-8B Harrier II take off vertically. It was that loud. At the door, there were guys with boxes of earplugs saying "compliments of the band." It was so loud that my jeans were literally shaking.

Being around something so loud was interesting for a few reasons. One, this was noise like a jet taking off and it was generated by guitars and drums. My Bloody Valentine's real strength is writing haunting music with guitars that sounds nothing like the instruments with which it's performed. This part of the show illustrated just how versatile the guitar can be.

Two, the sound was simply an awesome force. I bet this is what God sounds like when he wants to rock. It was so loud that it became a physical force. This may be a little gross, but I was kind of sick at the show. I'd had a cold for a couple days. The sound was so loud that it shook the goo in my sinuses loose.

If you're not into My Bloody Valentine, I highly recommend that you get your hands on a copy of their record "Loveless." It's probably my favorite rock record of the '90s.

Let's start with the most obvious thing about the Hope Conspiracy. Naming an album Death Knows Your Name is pretty much amazing. It's cartoonish in its excess. Also, it makes the 16 year old hardcore kid in me freak out a bit, which is embarrassing, but whatever, it's happening.

Biggest criticism: I think the cymbals have a bit too much treble on them and while that helps them pierce through the clutter and add a layer of crashing static, it can be grating at times. It's hard to get a good mix on a hardcore album, especially one that's as heavy as Death Knows Your Name. The riffs are brutish and a thin guitar sound or light distortion wouldn't allow these very long breakdowns to flex with the same authority. Here it seems like The Hope Conspiracy sought to avoid sounding like a muddy mess by thinning out the very present and active cymbals and it works in most instances. Further, I can't really articulate why it doesn't work at certain points, so maybe it's not really the cymbals that are the offender here.

"They Know Not" is the opening track off the album and, appropriately enough, it comes equipped with a slow, sorta-of-maybe-dramatic lead in. It's been on repeat the past day and a half because it's pretty much everything I want in a hardcore song right now. The slow march of the snare and the pounding crash never give way to a faster, punk tempo and the heavy guitars never break from the downbeats. The song lives and dies with its ability to stretch a very simple and intense breakdown towards the 4 minute mark without becoming boring or arduous. I think the few pauses they add help with that, but ultimately, this is just very well done. Then again, maybe I'm just a nerd.

Hope Conspiracy - "They Know Not"

This is kind of incredible. I guess it's hip-hop, but the song does a great job of pulling in some serious indie dance influence.

The KnuX - "Bang Bang" (video)

Like, seriously, it came out of nowhere and now I'm having a hard time understanding how anyone doesn't spend at least a few minutes in the morning drinking coffee, reading the New York Times, and listening to something off Let It Die or The Reminder. There's something inherently abrasive about Feist's aesthetic, at least when it lapses into that coffee-shop-ready pop charm that she occasionally employs. But, when I hold these criticisms up to her body of work and obvious love of her craft, they feel shallow and more like strikes against her "coolness," as if I or anyone were in a position to hand those out. I mean, maybe coffee shops are just Feist ready. I don't know what that means. Anyway, in case you haven't seen it, here's a video for "I Feel It All."

My mother's birthday came around right as I was flying back to Chicago to lease a car, drive it down to Atlanta, move into my new place, and buy a bunch of furniture. Instead of buying her a gift, I ended up borrowing money. It was not an especially proud moment. I paid her back a couple weeks later, the same day I bought her The Weakerthan's (Canada's finest) "Reconstruction Site" off Amazon as a small birthday present. Reconstruction Site, is one of my favorite albums and I'm very sure that if I had to take one CD to a desert island, that would be it. I studied abroad in England for six months during my junior year of undergrad. At some point during the packing process I realized that I couldn't bring everything I needed in two suitcases, so I decided to mail a large box of my belonging to my new address, knowing it would take many weeks for it to arrive. For some reason I decided to include all of my CDs in that box. A few hours before I left, it dawned on me that I wouldn't have any music for my trip unless I burned some CDs for my discman. I had borrowed a large chunk of my friend's music collection, but with only a bit of time before I had to leave for the airport, I would have to be selective in my choices. Worried about time and unsure how many CDs I'd be able to copy, Reconstruction Site was the first CD I burned.

My mother is politically conservative with little aversion to the fringe commentators that provide seemingly effortless and impossibly offensive filler between news cycles. We've had more than a few arguments about her support of Fox News and their endless parade of pundits that amplify the worst voices in our society. She is also open-minded and an avid music lover. This translates into interesting conversation, like when I was home for winter break and I stumbled across the video for DJ Kahled's "I'm so Hood" on TV. While we disagreed over the song's societal impact and what, if any, lifestyle choices the video seemed to be promoting, we both agreed the snare track was pretty sweet.

Reconstruction Site was a hit - a cohesive album of disarmingly sincere songs celebrating the kinds of emotions and experiences that are common across all sects of the population. While my mother and I have more or less given up political discussions, both of us can appreciate a song sung from a house cat's perspective as he confronts his owner over his self-defeating attitude. We can't agree over the government's role in providing healthcare, but we both recognize the cat raises some really compelling points.

I hear Reconstruction Site as a political album not due to what it discusses, but what the band feels no need to mention. John Samson has spent a lifetime writing political music, from his work in Propagandhi to early Weakerthans songs that discussed the frustrations of reconciling radical politics with everyday life (see: "Confessions of a Futon Revolutionist"). But slowly amassing throughout his catalogue are songs about love and depression and the small victories and defeats of everyday life. Reconstruction Site is nearly devoid of overt political statements that would easily fit into a liberal or conservative framework. Instead we hear songs about the frustrated wage employees trapped in a city they've grown to hate ("One Great City") and about the insatiable desire to reshape those things that make us uncertain and insecure ("New Name For Everything"). Songs like these transcend our self-imposed political dichotomy (note: Canada is neither a red state nor a blue state) by talking about the reasons we care about healthcare or the minimum wage in the first place. Where albums of songs on similar topics may also be devoid of political statements, few have been written atop a similar back catalogue. When I worked for the Service Employee's International Union, workers would regularly bring their kids to rallies. They might not have been as loud as the other protestors, but that's because they didn't need to yell. Their reasons for demanding more rights and more money were walking beside them. Context is everything and sometimes a parent walking next to his or her child can be a powerful statement.

My mom and I haven't discussed this upcoming election very much. If I find out she likes Palin, I think I'll have some severe allergic reaction, like in "My Girl" when those bees messed up the kid from "Home Alone." But, to state the obvious, emotions and experiences shape our existence and common emotions and common experiences create bonds. Everyone falls in love or feels lonely or sifts through childhood memories and we don't discuss these things often enough. So while I'll be reading Salon.com these next few weeks and she'll be watching Fox News, at least we can still agree that the cat raises some really compelling points.

Over the weekend I stumbled upon another neat little record store: 2nd Hand Tunes on Dempster just West of Chicago Ave in Evanston. It was a happy find because I had no idea it was there and I can't say that the other independent record store in Evanston (that I know of) is lacking in charm. This place has a huge amount of used stuff and it's mixed in new stuff. They have a great system where they put the cd inserts into a plastic holder that fits two or three inserts. This means they can fit a staggering amount of albums per bin. Aside from that, they sell cool t-shirts and have a limited but decent vinyl section. Finally, the place has a pleasant attachment to musical kitch, so there are bags made with LPs and plenty of novelty turntables.

I bought the new Brian Wilson record, That Luck Old Sun, with libretto by Van Dyke Parks. It's great stuff, but that's to be expected.

I also bought the complete recordings of Robert Johnson. That's just something I've been meaning to get for years.

My best find was a recording of Julius Katchen playing solo piano stuff by Mussorgsky, Liszt, and one tune by Balakirev. I've heard of Katchen, but I can't recall hearing him play. That's a shame because he's an American pianist and he's incredible. I was also unfamiliar with Mussorgsky, and he's amazing too. Katchen has serious chops and while his touch isn't the softest, he plays with such authority and care that you can't help but fall in love.

Whenever I find a new pianist I try and find a recording of them playing Beethoven's Concerto No.4. It's one of those standard pieces that has the kind of virtuosity that Beethoven demanded of his own playing, but it's early enough to not be completely baffling. He's Katchen



A fine performance, but he's best known for his Brahms, which really is off the chain.



I can't find him playing anything from the record I got, but it's really great stuff.

Marnie Stern is doing some finger-tapping that would make the guys from Minus the Bear cry. But, unlike Minus the Bear, her tapping comes in these dense, dissonant bursts that are artful and creative, but not always easily digestible. There is a lot to work through and she's a very progressive, challenging artist, but I wasn't really interested until FluxBlog posted "Ruler" a while ago. "Ruler" is an edgy and dynamic rock song that seems completely in control of the chaotic guitar work that defines it. Marnie spends a large chunk of the song singing in falsetto with more than a little echo. The song finds a solid groove in layers of hyperactivity and kind of has a pop appeal to it. Kind of.

Marnie Stern - "Ruler"

Cookin' Soul's OJAYZIS is, wait for it, a Jay-Z v. Oasis mash up that works really really well. I'm kind of down on mash ups as a genre, but they can be a lot of fun and for some reason I always like Jay-Z mash ups. Maybe that's because I almost always like Jay-Z. Anyway, the whole mix tape is available for free here and it will probably be this weekend's unhealthy music obsession. Enjoy.

Hi everyone,

It recently came to my attention that Josh wasn't familiar with Aphex Twin. After I stopped crying and shaking, I sent him this:



"4" is the first track off Aphex Twin's critically-acclaimed "Richard D. James Album," released on Warp Records in 1996. This album is exceptional for a few reasons. First, it came out in 1996. Simply put, this record was years ahead of its time. This kind of music wasn't being made by anyone else at the time. Period.

Second, this record was a relatively early example of the drill'n'bass genre, and paved the way for the style's further development. Drill'n'bass shares similarities with drum'n'bass in that they share syncopated break beats rather than the four-to-the-floor drumbeat (think untz-untz-untz-untz) common in electronic music. They also generally use very fast tempos, usually upwards of 160 bpm. Where they differ is that drill'n'bass drumbeats are, for lack of a better term, crazy as hell. While many (but by no means all) drum'n'bass drumbeats are loop-based, drill'n'bass beats are generally not. While common elements may show up throughout the drumbeat (i.e. snare on the third beat or a kick on the first beat), entire patterns aren't necessarily repeated.

Third, Aphex Twin used software synthesizers and sequencers to make this record. In 1996, using computers to make entire songs was pretty rare. And, considering that Aphex Twin's previously released material (both ambient and acid) was made using hardware synthesizers and sequencers, this marks a pretty major turning point and innovative change in his production style.

I really like this track, and encourage all of you to get your hands on as much Aphex Twin material as you can. He also releases music under the moniker AFX, so check for that also.

While renting a Flexcar last year, I came across a mix CD that the previous driver had left in the CD player. Fortunately, he also left the stereo on and the volume way up, so it was kind of impossible to not find it. Anyway, I, being the curious person I am, gave it a listen. It was OK, but I did walk away with two new songs that I really liked, one of those being The Blue Scholars' "The Ave," which is pretty fucking close to being an Atmosphere song. The other was Leonard Cohen's "Famous Blue Raincoat." It is just so beautiful and somber and heartfelt, I can't help but get drawn into his living room as he writes the letter that comprises the song's lyrics. His inflection and careful choice of words creates a dense narrative and the moody music fills in whatever holes or uncertainties exist. This song is just masterfully crafted and it feels so intimate. I should probably stop gushing now. I'm excitable.

Leonard Cohen - "Famous Blue Raincoat"

Hi everyone,

My friend Eric (check his shit out, it's sick) recommended this guy named Ronald Jenkees to me. Aside from clearly being an incredible pianist, he's mastered the Yamaha Motif synthesizer.



This specific tune kind of goes through a few different genres. We could call parts of it post-jazz, pop, or electro. What I think is really the most impressive thing about this guy is that, while most producers nowadays will shoot all this stuff into a sequencer and just let it play, this is a guy who can actually reproduce his material in a live context. Considering the technicality of the keyboard parts, this is quite a feat.

Be sure to check out his other videos. He's got some really terrific material that's more jazz-and-classically-oriented.

Anyone got odds on whether Timbo stole any of this guy's material?

Alkaline Trio's "Goodbye Forever" was recorded just as it was becoming obvious that the band was maturing into a depressive pop punk powerhouse. It was released on the I Lied My Face Off EP that predated Maybe I'll Catch Fire, which was an amazingly progressive and exciting punk record. It also predated so much of the silly makeup and adolescent celebration of macabre the band has now adopted to market themselves. It kind of makes it embarrassing to listen to them. Oh well.

Fortunately, "Goodbye Forever" has a charming video featuring the band hanging out and doing nothing in particular, which is definitely a skill set of mine. I've always loved that such a great song had such a low budget video, but the shots they chose are kind of endearing and there is just no sense of image control or marketing. They had a great song and needed a video and this would do. Despite the massive budgets of their later projects, I think I'd take something like this any day. Also, I definitely play air drums to this song more often than I should admit in print. Like, way more often.

A few years ago I saw a (the?) Promise Ring reunion show. I'm a big fan and I was very sure I'd never hear them live. Tim Kinsella's band, Make Believe, opened the show and were kind of a mess, which was the point. The band was tight, but Tim's vocals dominated the mix and he was trashed, referring to things as "a happy meal for the future" and just generally letting everyone know that he was tripping. It was like watching a train wreck and once it became clear that this train wreck, whether semi-planned or not, was the only thing between a sold out Metro and the Promise Ring, the crowd became very irritated. Tim's victory lap began there, but it didn't end until he rushed onto stage during the Promise Ring's set, grabbed a mic, and proceeded to sing out of time and off key to whatever song they were playing. The band didn't stop, but they cut power to the mic and Tim was escorted off stage. This is all to say that Tim Kinsella is pretty good at going out of his way to irritate a lot of people - to really see how inaccessible he can make his art while still maintaining at least some contact with the scene that has cherished him since Cap'n Jazz was some hot shit. He, and people like him, play an important role in artistic communities by chipping away at the outer barriers of what is appropriate and acceptable and thus, theoretically, broadening what can be accepted in the mainstream. Example: Lil Wayne's stream of consciousness lyrics probably wouldn't be so accepted if independent hip hop artists hadn't been toying around with that kind of shit for a while. There are plenty of reasons why he is commercially viable, but being groundbreaking isn't one of them.

Joan of Arc, Tim Kinsella's band following Cap'n Jazz, saw him in his familiar role: twisting and tormenting indie rock into something bittersweet and fairly inaccessible. "The Life Cumulative" experiments with electronic noises and chopped up drum fills to the point that the listener can't even focus on the oddly-timed guitar riffs that seem to peak in from the edges. Tim's vocals are abrasive and never really smooth out to the point that the listener feels comfortable. But the refrain "you've got such a pretty voice but you got to get so fucked up to sing" always sticks around in my head and no matter how much Tim strains his voice and squeaks his way out of his range, there is something interesting and sincere to his melody. I guess I find it catchy. Then again, maybe I've known too many people who only feel comfortable in a stupor or who seem just a little too excited to push the limits of their consumption.

I guess I should also say that I think the experimentation works well here. The bridge is essentially a deconstruction of the drums and the electronic accompaniment and it expectedly sounds chaotic and directionless. The band comes back in a cohesive push and even though that cohesive push consists of the same off-key singing and intricate guitar riffs, it sounds forceful and meaningful. I think it redefines the song on subsequent listens, making it more and more palatable.

Joan of Arc - "This Life Cumulative"

I've been going to callback interviews this week and next. This means I've been wandering around new parts of downtown Chicago, checking out famous buildings and trying to spot new places of interest.

Yesterday I stumbled upon Jazz Record Mart. Beki actually pointed it out on the Internet over the weekend while searching for places to buy Ropeadope shirts. But my ending up there yesterday was a complete accident. It was the kind of revelation that only a metropolis can bring. It's a gigantic store with nothing but jazz. Mostly cds, but plenty of records, too. I was overwhelmed. I sought out a manageable category and settled on vocals. It was daunting, with hundreds, maybe thousands, of discs, but that was better than most of the other sub genres.

I didn't have a system, so I just wandered up and down the aisle, hoping something would catch my eye. I was looking to avoid names I was familiar with. I spotted singer named Blossom Dearie. The cover was a recreation of the original record cover, with Blossom donning short blond hair and a stripped black and white beatnik shirt. She sat with her elbows on a the back of her chair, fists shoved into her cheeks, flashing an awkward sort of smile.

I picked it up and realized it was a Verve reprint of a 1957 album. I didn't know anything about Blossom, but the back indicated she was an expat to France and was involved in the Blue Stars, with whom I am familiar. I also noticed that she has a bebop piano record and played on this record, Give him the ooh-la-la. What more could I ask for?

I'm listening now and I'm not disappointed. She's got a great voice and her style is as playful as her photo. The band is sold and her playing is good, but it's definitely a vocal record. She sings a bunch of stuff that was new in the late 50's and never really became standards. But she makes the songs shine, and her version of Porter's "Just One of those Things" is different than usual and awfully good.

I'll be heading back to the Mart in the near future, now I just have to figure out how not to go broke.

I live in a large apartment complex, the kind that I sought to avoid when I moved to Atlanta. The units are clean and well designed, but they lack character and somehow feel like a display model in a home furnishing store. They were designed for easy turnover - I don't think most people spend years, much less decades, in these things. Consequently, the units are as bland and as appealing to a large base of people as possible. In many ways this mirrors a lot of my complaints about Atlanta, but that's not really where I want to go with this.

I decided I had to paint over at least one wall of my room to give it a bit of flavor. I picked a very bright and deep red because it went well with the cheap-hotel-yellow I was given and I chose the wall behind my desk, which also happens to be the same wall my brightest lamp stands against (I don't have overhead lighting). When it's the only light I have on, my room is both notably darker than it used to be and a lot more red. Like, a lot more. It gives the room a warm glow, but as I was warned by Justin, the red is a bit intense and the glow isn't necessarily relaxing. It's just very present.

I was cleaning and reassembling my room one night when 120 Days' "Sleepwalking" came on my computer, and the mixed- down atmospheric synths came over that indie dance beat in waves, cresting and crashing, present but never overpowering. "Sleepwalking" is, essentially, slightly erie new wave. It has a melody and discernible lyrics and never really lets itself fall into the experimental camp, but it certainly flirts with it. It makes that erie tension fun and, in turn, a bit less erie.

Anyway, I'm not sure if my room's glow is good all the time - it definitely isn't conducive to studying - but I guess I kind of like it for what it is. At least I have a few other lamps to offset it when I want to.

120 Days - "Sleepwalking"

"To Have and To Have Not" is a protest a song, written for the disenfranchised and like all protest songs, it was made to be heard live. I've always thought Lars Fredrickson's cover did a great job of being faithful to the original while still giving it a bit more bite. So, here's a video of all four members of Rancid playing acoustic guitar and singing one of the best protest songs ever written. I think Rancid has recorded at least one of the best punk albums ever, so a video like this is kind of exciting for me.

Rebecca looked great in her summery Target dress. She even wore heals even though she's not quite an expert and she knew we'd be doing a bit of walking. For my part I chose not to wear a jacket because it was just too darned hot. So I put on a tie and left my belt at home (keeping the dream alive, Alex). We got on the train and settled in for our long ride downtown. We were joined by a few hipsters wearing cutoff shirts with ties, jeans that didn't fit and dirty shoes. I didn't say anything, but in Shelockian fashion I added it up and I knew we were all going to same place. Sure enough, they stayed with us till we got off the train.

Once on the street I told Beki we had company and dismissed me as an insane person. We walked down the street and I knew there were too many bad haircuts for this to be a normal Friday night on Michigan. We walked into the lobby and were greeted by several hundred twenty-somethings in a wide variety of thrift store and American Apparel garb. "Are we overdressed" she asked? "Definitely not." To be fair, there were a few attempts at ironic formal attire. There were thrift store tuxedos sprinkled here and there and a fake fur that would end up a couple of rows in front of us. But mostly it was the same kind of cutting edge fashion you'd see at any other contemporary rock concert. Except this wasn't a rock concert and it was in Symphony Hall. Details, details.

Rebecca wanted to coffee, so we headed across the street. On our way back we walked in front of the building and observed our peers. We observed a woman wearing a dress, smoking a cigarette, sitting on her a piling with her legs spread; no underwear. I needn't say more about our walk to our seats.

The hall was full, but far from packed. There were many more empty seats than I expected and I initially chalked it up to poor advertisement. But just before things got started I realized that 90% of the folks there were my age and unemployed. "Maybe they're planning on skipping the opening act." After the first piece the doors opened behind us and a torrent of people flooded the hall. No fewer than 70 came in from the doors immediately behind me, I can't imagine how many total. It took a full five minutes for them to find their seats. Sweaty from their bike rides over and from surely getting riled up about not being able to come in mid-performance, the place took on an aroma similar to a crowded Pei party. To steal from Anthony Lane, I felt a cavalry of embarrassment for my culture.

The people filtered in after three of the five Ys pieces. When they finished playing Ys, there was an intermission while the Orchestra tore down and the band set up. We stretched and headed outside. The street was a sea of smokestacks. Hundreds of smelly twenty-somethings making themselves even smellier, huddled next to the curb due to the cruel Chicago smoking laws. A passerby exclaimed to his companion, "...and they ALL smoking!" If you have a distaste for our youth counter-culture, take comfort in the knowledge that most will die a painful death. And if you're a med student, I suggest specializing in lung cancer. You might decorate your office accordingly, playing more electroclash and less Kenny G, except to induce the occasional ironic chuckle; laughter is, after all, the best medicine.

But perhaps all is not lost. On my way back to my seat I walked past a gentleman whereing a pair of jeans and tucked in button down shirt. "Why can't they put on a clean shirt and dress nice?!" Then again, he was wearing a huge pair of headphones as though they were his Viking battle horns.

Midway through the second act a drunk woman bolted through the doors. Upon returning she walked past her seat and nearly made it to the stage before being corralled by her boyfriend.

You can't take these kids anywhere.

I think art should challenge us, push our limits and help us explore the area outside of our comfort zone. By forcing us to discuss and experience things we would normally have avoided, we learn to appreciate new aesthetics and vantage points. I mean, don't get me wrong, I've put up more than my fair share of impassioned defenses for Fall Out Boy's first full length (honestly, just give it a fair shot) but when we always stay in our comfort zones we start to get a little too comfortable.

The Faint's Danse Macabre can be, at times, trite and immature, but when those steely, tormented vocals and dissonant melodies float over the unrelenting pulse of a distorted rhythm section, the end product is something that should only be played late at night, on your way to some place you shouldn't be going, and it should be played loud. The Faint have done a great job making dark music more accessible and "Agenda Suicide" is a great example.

I found this video during my Spring finals last year. I had been listening to the song for years, but I never got around to looking for a video. It does a great job of taking the song to the next level and, well, pushing me out of my comfort zone. I guess I'm not great with passionless violence, call me crazy. Anyway, it is artful and is a fine example of a band in top form.

A couple of weeks ago I had the pleasure of seeing and hearing Joanna Newsom and Ys Street Band play her album Ys with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. I sat breathless through most of the performance. I've always found Newsom's voice great the same way that Dylan has a great voice, but as she's gained experience and proficiency she's moved closer to being a great singer rather than a great singer of her pieces. This makes performances of her old material revelatory. She now appears to make the squeeks and cracks come at will. The increase in her range makes the previously at times too sudden changes in register and mood come smoothly, increasing the emotional range of the pieces. Sawdust & Diamonds found Newsom alone with her harp. Her voice never wavered. Her tone was almost perfect (much better than on the record, which was a great improvement over her first record). You no longer get the sense that she's clenching her jaw Eddie Vedder style. She's singing with her whole body. I get emotional when listening to Ys. She absolutely slayed a very difficult part of Sawdust:

In the trough of the waves,
Which are pawing like dogs,
Pitch we, pale-faced and grave,
As I write in my log.

Then I hear a noise from the hull,
Seven days out to sea.
It is that damnable bell!
And it tolls—well, I believe that it tolls—for me.
It tolls for me.

It requires lots of shifts in register and volume. It was a one of many highlights.

Unfortunately her voice might be getting too good. Her new material suggests that she knows that she's becoming a singer and singers like R&B and country. I like those things too, and I'm excited to hear what kind of country songs Newsom can write, but while her voice is getting better, she's no Emmylou Harris. I worry that she's going to start writing songs that other folks should be singing.

I'll also note how good her band is. There's only four of them, but they make a good bit of racket and the new arrangements of the Mike-Eyed Mender songs are markedly better than the originals.

PS How good is this bit of writing:
Last week, our picture window
Produced a half-word,
Heavy and hollow,
Hit by a brown bird.

My friend John and I were killing time until we left for a party and I remember feeling enthusiastic and intoxicated on a cocktail of whatever we had laying around the house. I think we were talking about the new Lil Wayne album when he mentioned he was in a rap group in D.C. That was a fairly bold statement considering he made it behind several empty beer bottles in a smokey room in Berkeley. But the group, Math Panda, had recorded an album and it was online and he played it for me and whoa, he could rap. Like, he could actually rap. He was creative and confident and aware of the beat, not necessarily riding the downbeats but visiting them whenever necessary. Oh, and the group was big in D.C.

John is the second M.C. on the track, coming in around the 1:06 mark. It's kind of fucking incredible.

Math Panda - "Expect Torrents"