B - Pinback - Offcell - EP

B!!!! I made it to B! That's right haters, doubters, mimes and Rance, I made it to the letter B and it only took me a year and a half. Ugh.

Well, at least I'm not in the A's anymore.

Anyway, gotta love Rob Crowe's "white guy attempting to deliver a dancehall rant" on this puppy. If it weren't for that odd machine noise intro, this would be one of my favorite Pinback songs actually.

I've always assumed the title was a reference to the key the song was played in, but with these guys you just never know and my ear isn't good enough to tell you for a fact that this song is actually in B. Whatever, it definitely displays Pinback's rockier side, and for me that's their stronger side.

Awoo - The Hidden Cameras - Awoo - 2006

So, I'm experimenting with adding Amazon links to my blog, should anyone wish to actually buy the songs I'm (occasionally) writing about. One of my co-workers was bored today and told me I should do this, so I figured "why not?".

Anyway, Awoo (the album) is one of those things that I downloaded after reading a good review listened to once or twice and liked well enough and then promptly never ever listened to again. It pops up on random from time to time and I find myself enjoying it just enough to not delete it...plus I seem to recall that there were a couple songs on this album that I was into...just not this one.

Not much of a recommendation, but hey...if you want to check them out, click the Amazon link.

Awkward Duet - Sons & Daughters - Love the Cup - 2004

A surprisingly delicate cut from S&D, from back in the days when the guitar player used to sing too and pop sheen wasn't there foremost target. I saw these guys open up for Clinic at a CMJ show in 2003 and was thoroughly impressed with their girl/boy harmonies, ability to combine rockabilly instincts with dark noir undertones, and of course the completely unabashed Scottish accents that has since become a much more acceptable strategy (The Twilight Sad and Frightened Rabbits, I'm looking at you!).

So I went to go see Polvo in concert at The Belle House last night with some of my long time friends. The show was good, and it was nice to see 90's math rock getting it's due...but my concert experience was definitely shaded by a middle aged, totally sloshed Brit who insisted on wearing his narrow brim fedora through the whole show. Seriously dude, take off your fucking hat! Some of us would actually like to watch the show and not have our view constantly obstructed by your obnoxious affectation. I've never understood the need to display your personality through wardrobe. Why not display your personality through your words and actio...on second though, you're probably an asshole...just take the hat off during a concert so the rest of us can see the show, you limey douchebag.

Awful Bliss - Guided By Voices - Bee Thousand - 1994

So I have a really awful story to go along with this song. Like a really, really embarrassing and shameful story, but frankly, it is what I think about when I hear this song and will be what I think about when I hear this song until the day I die...so I pretty much have to tell this story.

The song itself is relatively simple. One of the small handful of GBV tracks sung by reedy voiced "Classic Lineup" guitar player Tobin Sprout, it clocks in at barely over 1 minute long. It's a sad, acoustic ballad in the middle of an album of Pollard's bombastic triumphs. And it's really just one verse and a single line repeated a few times as a chorus, but epic song lengths were not GBV's forte.

So...about that story...it was the weekend before Thanksgiving of 99. I was living my last year in Cincinnati, saving money to move to NYC the following summer. My girlfriend at the time was visiting her family in Ecuador, and I decided to go grab a bite to eat with one of my friends. As there is jack-shit to do in Cincy, we ended up at the TGI Friday's in Kenwood drinking and eating Jack Daniel's Chicken Strips (Cuisine was not high on Cincy's list in the 90's...though my mother assures me it's gotten better). After a few we headed our separate ways.

Cut to Tuesday night by which point both myself and my friend have easily the worst food poisoning either of us have ever, ever had. It was so bad in fact that I couldn't drive to my family's thanksgiving celebration, because I was in the bathroom every 20 minutes AROUND THE CLOCK. And it's this around the clock thing that really brings us back to this song.

Now, I don't know if you've ever gone a few days straight sleeping only in little 15 minute bursts...but let me tell you, you start to go a little loopy. You live in a fog where the whole world is strange. It's like the worst drug you've ever EVER taken. I remember laying on my couch, Thanksgiving Day, trying to watch the Macy's Parade and drifting in and out of consciousness between trips to the toilet. (Again, I apologize for the scatological nature of this post)...and for some strange reason for that whole period, I just had that one single line "And I wouldn't dare to bring out this awful bliss" running in my head...over and over. I'm fairly certain it's what madness feels like. Like maybe Manson just kept hearing "Helter-Skelter" in his head, just like that...granted I wasn't homicidal...if anything I mostly just wanted to die...but still...

Anyway, by Friday I had to go to the ER and be rehydrated and given some anti-biotics. It took me about a week after that to get back on solid food, and I will honestly say without fear of exaggeration that nearly 10 years later...my stomach has never fully recovered...and I will never hear this song again without thinking about that just awful, awful 4 days.

Away with Murder - Camera Obscura - My Maudlin Career - 2009

Despite their move away from Merge records (a decision I will never support) Camera Obscura continues to do what they do and do it very well. Mopey, girl-group inflected, Scottish accented pop. Traceyanne Campbell continues to have the lowest self esteem in the world, but that, along with a wonderfully forlorn voice, is how she works. This particular song adds nice little country touches like the organ and peddle steel, all of which work well to increase the sad-sack vibe.

Away From The Numbers - The Jam - In The City - 1977

And so The Jam continues it's odd stranglehold on the "A's"...with a solid rocking number from their first album, when they were still a post-punk band. Though again, the preponderance of Jam songs in the first letter of the alphabet gives the impression that I'm a bigger Jam fan than I actually am. Still this is a good song.

So, I ran into a former co-worker on the street...and it just baffles me how some people's lives are just destined for drama. Granted, I occasionally have an interesting and exciting life, I live in NYC: I go out a bit and work at a somewhat unorthodox company...but most nights I go home and watch movies with my girlfriend, watch soccer with my boys, or play video games alone...but this girl...well, granted, she's 11 years younger than me and most would consider her a looker, but the amount of crazy things that happen to her do tend to leave me shaking my head.

On this particular occasion she informed me (I hadn't seen her since April or so) that she had recently gotten married. Though I'm used to her surprises, this one definitely caught me out of the blue, as last time I saw her she was complaining about the fact that she hadn't had a date in years. Additionally she was not wearing a ring. When I mentioned this fact to her, she just laughed and pointed out that she was marrying an old family friend so that he could get his papers and that she was being very well paid for it.

Now why doesn't this shit ever happen to me? Baffling.

Award Tour - A Tribe Called Quest - Midnight Marauders - 1993

And so speaking of the frustration of following things that used to be a cool little niche that are now more and more mainstream...it's actually become harder and harder for me to be an American soccer fan (A soccer fan who is American, not a fan of the generally awful MLS).

Again, like Indie Rock, it's counter-intuitive. I would have thought, 10 years ago, that living in a world in which everyone knew who Pavement and The Pixies were would be AWESOME! But instead, I find it sort of troubling and frustrating. Well, Soccer has sort of become the same way. With EPL games becoming increasingly broadcast on Fox Soccer Channel, Setanta Sports and starting this season ESPN2 I have more opportunities than I ever did to watch the sport I love...but the problem with this came up yesterday.

Arsenal played the first round of the Champions League group stages yesterday against Belgian Champions Standard Liege. The game was live at 245 and was being shown on FSC at 5 PM. I set my TiVo, stayed away from the Internet in the afternoon and prepared to go home and watch my game. As it turned out, do to some collasally stupid defending Arsenal went down two goals in the first five minutes of the game (This is exceptionally fast, for those that don't know)...and within ten minutes after that I received all sorts of messages from various friends and acquaintances that know of my strange obsessions "Dude, sorry about your team", "Are you watching this, yikes!" and "Yeah, you may not want to watch this game..."

Now fortunately, we did come back to win 2-3, but...even as little as 3 years ago, no one I knew, besides my fellow soccer fans would have had any clue that there was a game on. And certainly none of them would have been watching...but there it was.

It's hard being me.

Anyway, this Tribe song is a further result of my girlfriend's attempt to broaden my horizons. It's fun, I don't hate it...that's about all you can ask, right?

Await Lightening - Amusement Parks on Fire - Out of the Angeles - 2006

I generally have a problematic and troubled relationship with Pitchfork Media, but I did think that this article was well written and brought up a lot of valid points...it's a bit of a slog, but take a look if you have the time.

http://pitchfork.com/features/articles/7704-the-decade-in-indie

Despite being a review of the decade in Indie Rock, it largely details the problems of being a fan of a genre that was a niche when you found it but has become less and less of a niche by the year.

And Amusement Parks on Fire is as good enough a place to start with this conversation as any. The Nottingham band might have sound unique and like a niche band circa 1994 when Swervedriver came out of Oxford and had the brilliant idea to couple Shoegaze's sound textures with the drive of more traditional rock. But now, in 2009...or even in 2006 when this record came out...little sounds more safe than this band. This song could be in a car commercial, it could be played at an Applebees. Don't get me wrong, I listen to this band and generally enjoy them...but...the idea that this band, by virtue of being "indie rock" is breaking any new ground, or that it's underground existence is a product of the discerning tastes of their fans and the "ignorance" of the plebes holds little sway.

And so the bigger question remains, what are you when the very category that you defined yourself by...no longer makes sense as a definition. If that's not the question for our age...I don't know what is.

Avalon - Sigur Ros - Agaetis Byrjun - 2000

Instrumental.

Available - The National - Sad Songs for Dirty Lovers - 2002

I keep waiting for the The National to release an album that sounds like they do on this song. Every National album has 2-3 tracks like this that prove to the world that they know how to rock. These songs are invariably the singles and the songs that produce the most excitement when played live, but a deep dive into any National album will also show you that surrounding these 2-3 songs are usually 10 other songs that drift on through a fog of red wine and the inherent disappointment of adult relationships. These songs are often quite good, and at worst are just dull...but taken in total can make an album drag and drag. Much as loved 2007's The Boxer, it could have easily cut 3-4 of it's dirges, and replaced even one of them with another rocker in this vein and they would have had a perfect album on their hands.

Instead we must make due with the little bits of adrenaline that The National deign to serve to us between bouts of melancholia. Not that this song is without its share of darkness, in fact the bitter tale the lyrics spins is one of the uglier tales in band rife with them. A familiar tale for anyone acquainted with The National's catalog or single life in NYC, it tells of the story of man consistently compelled by liquor and sex to keep coming back to the same hopeless dysfunctional relationship...punctuated by Matt Beringer's wonderful parlour trick scream.

He uses that scream twice on this album (the other time on the equally great Slipping Husband), but since has seemed reluctant to pull it out again...but the effect that occurs when Beringer goes from his deep, honeyed baritone to a throat shredding screech of frustration is jaw dropping. Coupled with the lyrics "Why do you dress me down and liquor me up?!?" it presents the picture of a man who hates this woman for using such low methods to manipulate him, and hates himself more for allowing himself to be manipulated by them. Damn near note perfect.

Autumn Sweater - Yo La Tengo - I Can Hear The Heart Beating As One - 1997

So now that I've finally finished describing my Boston trip in detail...what the hell do I talk about on this thing again? Oh yeah, right...music.

In 1997 Yo La Tengo were already 11 years into their career (though in all fairness, they were only 5 years with their most recognized, and current, lineup). With the somber masterpiece Painful and the rockier, slightly less consistent Electr-O-Pura behind them, they seemed to have settled into a comfortable groove of critic friendly, Velvet Underground-ish indie rock. All bets would have been on the band putting out more of the same for the remainder of their career, but I Can Hear The Heart... found the band exploring more eclectic styles.

Sure there were the moments of familiarity: neither Sugarcube nor Deeper Into Movies would have sounded out of place on previous albums...but what was most surprising was not only the range displayed by the band, but also the inventiveness, and there is probably no better place to start than with Autumn Sweater.

The band had done organ vamps before, but usually they were a method to find a new instrument for Ira Kaplan to wail on when he bored of his guitar. But this is no noise filled scronk fest. Instead it's a chord based jazzy shuffle (complete with bongo drums) led more by Georgia's snare drum than by Ira's playing or sad sack mumble-core vocals.

I've probably heard this song half a million times in my life, and while it's no longer the playlist staple it was in 1997 (back when we called them mix tape staples) I still can't help but get a little tingle at hearing the pleasure of three long time musical compatriots locked in perfect grove while a nebbishy husband sings about the chills he got upon first meeting his wife and she keeps perfect rhythm behind him.

Autumn of the Seraphs - Pinback - Autumn of the Seraphs - 2007

We left the theater bar drunk as Mickey Roarke, but we weren't about to leave until we'd gotten the most out of Boston. We attempted to go visit the north end and take some pictures, but we ended up getting confused by Court St and found ourselves right back at Boston Commons where we were accosted by an old crazy drunk Irish (actually from Ireland) dude named Paul who spoke in rhymes and had his jaw tied with a white handkerchief.

Walking by one closed bar, we saw two guys and two girls hanging out in front of the establishment smoking. One of the girls was laying on the sidewalk, blowing smoke rings up in the air. As we passed she cooed a "Hello boys" to us in a voice that I suppose was trying to be alluring. We just nodded at which point she said "You two look hammered"...it occurred to me later that the right comeback was "We aren't the ones laying in the street, honey" but at the time the best I could manage was a "We are". She then asked (as we were already walking past them) if we were English (in reference to Anand's Arsenal jersey I would assume) which seems pretty silly considering I had already spoken and I'm clearly from Indiana.

Finally, we gave up on finding any after hours action and just resigned ourselves to taking pictures of the city. But by 330, when Anand showed no signs of stopping talking in that Shakespeare accent we decided head back to the hotel.

Our last bit of humor came as we were near our hotel. A woman excited an apartment building at 4AM, still wearing a cocktail dress, clearly hoping the early morning departure would mean an escape from the prying eyes that usually go with a walk of shame. She immediately stumbled on her high heels three feet from the door. Anand and I applauded and gave her a thumbs up...cause we're jerks.

Anyway, the next day was spent checking out of our hotel and driving back to NYC. We rocked Boston as hard as we could and found it somewhat lacking...try harder Boston, try harder...you have the right ingredients.


Piano is usually a bad sign for Pinback. The band is typically at its best when they rock their punk rock side out, whereas ballads tend to be dragged down by their laid back cali vibe. Beyond which, a stint at the piano means that Zach isn't on the bass, where he consistantly proves himself to be the most inventive, technically skilled bass player in Indie Rock...but this song has strengths that most of their piano efforts lack.

For starters, it's not as "dreamy" as a lot of their slower stuff can be, in fact by the time the song reaches the "It's the monster at the end of the book" climax, it stands up to their heaviest songs. Beyond that, Pinback can frequently be a band for whom lyrics are just a place holder to accompany the sounds they want to make, but this songs rather sinister lyrics also aid in lifting it out of the stoned San Diego vibe they so often get stuck in.

And for the final touch of class, there is a truly awesome vocal performance by Rob Crowe. I always admire Crowe's restraint with his vocals. He's certainly shown before that, when he wants to, he has one hell of a set of pipes on him...but most of the time he hangs back and picks his moments (Take the end of Concrete Seconds for a great example) to display his talent...but this song actually lets him show off a bit more than usual and he does so. Impressively, I might add.

Autoriche - Autechre - Incunabula - 1994

We left Eastern Standard in a cab, in an effort to catch another one of the bars on our list before it closed, but of course we showed up to find the place wasn't even open on Sundays to begin with. So that left us bar-less at midnight...I made a game time decision and headed us towards Chinatown...there was a bar I had been to on one of my previous trips that I thought might stay open later. But we found something else along the way...

As we were walking down through the theater district we happened upon two Irish bars right next to each other. The first, was shut down for a private party, but the second was wide open and actually fairly busy for that late on a Sunday night. We plopped down at the bar and got ourselves a round.

Observing the unusually busy bar it quickly became evident what the deal was...in one corner was a group of ratty t-shirted burly dudes with longish manes and scruffy facial hair, in another was a group of slightly posh seeming openly gay men, at the front stood a pretty-ish woman who was less pretty the closer you got and wearing too much blush...she kept practicing a weird pose with one of the gay men where they would both stand facing into the bar, shoulder to shoulder, with her hands locked together at the fingers...we were at the wrap party for a play.

Upon sharing this observation with Anand, he immediately decided this was the funniest thing in the world and proceeded to spend the majority of the rest of the evening speaking in a bad phony Shakespearean actor accent. "Ohhhhhhhh, me lord, wouldst though parlay with the barkeep and find me another mug of ale?"

At some point I went to the bathroom and saw a bunch of guys shredding lines off the waiters tray. Later on, the only other guy in the bar who didn't seem to be with the play came up to us and asked us if we knew where he could buy weed. The actress approached me at some point with one of the gays as a wing man, she had apparently mistaken us for stage hands and was either honestly curious about the progress of the breakdown of the show, or was looking to find a bastion of heterosexuality. Either way, I just sort of mumbled something about being a tourist and having no idea what she was talking about.

2 O'clock rolled around and though last call had been...er called, no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Though the bar tender kept dropping hints that it was quitting time, Anand was insistent that we stay and try to figure out what sort of action was going to happen when they closed the doors...needless to say, we did not get this invitation...instead we finished our drinks and headed back out.


I have nothing to say about Autechre...their one of those groups that you have on your iPod cause bands you admire, speak in hushed and worshipful tones about them...but my actual experience of listening to them is generally a shrug and an "OK?" No different here.

Autonomy Boy - The Long Blondes - Singles - 2008

Jesus...still trying to wrap up a story that took place over a month ago...anyway, after we got back from the game we all took a few minutes to get cleaned up before heading back out into the city. I exited the shower to find Skip laying in his bed, under the covers. I asked him if he intended to stay there, he stated that he'd probably just slow us down...so we headed back into Boston one man down.

The first place we went was probably the coolest bar we went to in Boston, a basement bar on Commonwealth called "The Lower Depths". The furniture was oak booths, the beer selection was impressive, and the bar tender was a friendly indie rock dude, but after a few rounds, we decided to check out another bar on our list.

The next bar was an upscale cocktail lounge called Eastern Standard where I had a fine whiskey smash. Unfortunately by this point I was also so hammered that I could not stop staring at the woman in the corner in an absurdly cleavage-y dress. Even the usually reticent Anand had to point out "Can't stop staring at those boobies, can you?" I blame the whiskey. It was abundantly clear that we had no business in a bar this classy when we were clearly hammered and under-dressed.

I tend to like Long Blondes songs when they are at their most Pretenders-esque (Weekend with out Makeup, Knife for the Girls, Christmas is Cancelled) but in reality the band is more typically a kind of Ska band, as demonstrated on this song. And I fucking hate Ska.