Hipster Weddings

When my sister got married last summer, she and her husband had their first dance to a country song i can no longer remember the name of (i have been trying for years to replace Kenny Chesney with Ryan Adams and the Cardinals. it has been an uphill battle). After scanning an article on "indie weddings" in the most recent Park Slope weekly (i swear i was getting my nails done at the time), it occurred to me: what do hipsters play at their weddings? Do they conform and dance along to the "YMCA"? Do they play "La La Love You" and expect that their grandma get on down to it? These are the questions that plague me.

10 Word Reviews: Feed the Animals

Shorter, more diverse, frenetic samples. I'll be at the show.

Shining Like a Dime

Often, I am pretty sure Tom Waits has the ability to read my mind. Last night at 3am, wedged between a sleeping transvestite and a woman reading the Bible aloud, I was nearly certain "Downtown Train" was written specifically about the R train between Canal and DeKalb. Then the transvestite tried to put her head on my shoulder. And I was convinced.

The Power of Music

There are only a few things that automatically make me cry. One is graduations (I wish I were able to explain this). Another is animals.

As anyone who knows me (and only people who know me read this), I love dogs. Lurrrvvv them. And a dog in distress is potentially the saddest thing that has ever happended. The ASPCA decided, for both heart-wrenching and money-donating reasons, to feature Sarah McLachlan in their most recent campaign. It is effective. Hearing "In the Arms of an Angel" while viewing sad puppy eyes is overwhelming. Ordinarily, this song would merely make me nostalgic for being 13 (Lilith Fair '98!), but right now I just want to run through the streets until I find a stray dog to save.

I am going to donate right now. As soon as I stop crying.

So that you can have a good cry too:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Iu_JqNdp2As

Life Imitates Art

N: ps- i just tried "brow gel" for the first time
what a BIZARRE feeling
mascara for your eyebrows
me: and how do your brows look?
N: organized?
i guess thats the best way to describe it
PRECISE
me: hahahahaa
N: haphazardly precise
this Better get a blog mention
me: on mine?
N: ehhh sure
me: figure out a way to relate your organized eye brows to music and you've got a deal
N: EASY:

Lean Back

Many people think that dance phenomenons start on the street--the physical manifestations of a neighborhood, a group of friends or a new musical style. They are wrong. New moves are, in fact, generated by the gchat conversations:

me: and if the power is out, you don't have to work
coffee break!
even though you don't do that anymore
ws: heheh
exactly
just gonna sit in my chair
chair
and refuse to do anything
me: hands on head, lean back
ws: heheheheh
perrrrfect
me: also, sounds like a dance move
ws: lean back
lean back
put yo hands on yo hand
lean back
me: fat joe meets inxs

Lou Reed, I will never stop loving you

Normally, when celebrities rip on the poor (literally and figuratively) reporters who interview them, I can't help but side with the question-asker/abuse-taker. And, you know, think a little less of the celebrity. This rule was broken today by Lou Reed. Not because the interviewer had it coming, but just because Lou is so effing crazy its hilarious.

http://nymag.com/daily/entertainment/2008/06/lou_reed_talks_his_new_radio_s.html

Then again, the singer of my all-time favorite song will never be far from my heart, even if he is a total ass.

Lost: The Music of

So, that Lost show everyone is talking about. I saw my first full episode last week. You know, the finale. Anyway, beyond the ridiculous plot line (my first question is about the inordinately high number of attractive people on this island. Clearly, all the ugly people were killed by aliens or Others or some other absurd plot twist), the music was...um...sophomoric at best.

Not only was it painfully predictable (oh god, we're in a minor key, something bad is going to happen!), but it also lacked any kind of subtlety. I get it, pounding a single piano key reminds us of our own rapidly thumping hearts. But these ploys were so overwrought it felt like watching a B-list horror movie. Except with palm trees and time traveling bunnies.

I thought the music was only just kinda bad until I realized that Michael Giacchino does the music. He was nominated for an Oscar this year for the music in Ratatouille, which was great. Or at least, bearable. Come on, Mikey G. Its time for your A game.

Postscript: Instead of listening to the show's score, listen to the band Previously on Lost. They recap the episodes and it is hilarious and good and i know them. 10 points for shameless plugs!

Vinyl Collections of the Un-Aged

Owning a turntable is a music snob right of passage. It signifies to your friends "I am so damn serious about music that I bother to flip over a record every 20 minutes." As an added bonus, real (i.e. old) adults find you adorable for having one and buy/give you records to fuel their own nostalgia. These are good things.

Once the turntable has been purchased, a problem soon arises. Well, if you are a poor a problem arises.

As soon as you hit the record store, you are drawn to the $2 bin like a moth to a very cheap flame. Rifling through the less expensive offerings, one thing becomes abundantly clear: as my mother would say, "there are reasons." Don't get me wrong, I love Tom Jones as much as the next 23 year old (Read: to a limited degree, mostly only when in Vegas) but 15 copies of his greatest hits? MMmm nothanks. Wait.....Cyndi Lauper's "Girls Just Want to Have Fun?!?!!?" I love that one! Get the Knack for a dollar?! Def!

And so it begins. Your vinyl collection fills with 80's hits and jazz compilations with liner notes in Italian. While they amuse your friends, the magic of owning a turntable is somewhat diminished by playing the same songs heard at a frat party on it (to be fair, The Knack album is quite good).

As it happens, music I like is also music that other music snobs like. Other music snobs who also own turntables. The field of competition, while narrow, is fierce. I slowly, painfully, came to the conclusion that no matter how many hours are spent searching through bins, I am not going to find a Gang of Four album for $3. Until I have a savings account, Benny Goodman and I are just going to have to learn to love each other.

UPDATE: I retract this entire post. Yesterday, I found Sam Cooke's Live at the Harlem Square Club for $3. I have literally never been happier.