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.

Audience with the Pope - Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid - 2008

After a bit of a sleep in the Singh bros and I were up and out the door before noon, and we couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day. 87 degrees, no humidity, a perfect ocean breeze and not a cloud in the sky greeted us when we walked out the hotel door. Our first activity for the day was the Aquarium, and we decided that there would be no better way to get there than to walk across town on this beautiful day.

If you didn't get a chance to read my European adventure from February, then I probably should explain again that I love to walk...and if possible would rather walk somewhere even if the distance seems greater than your average car loving American would normally go. Our hotel to the Aquarium was about 4.5 miles...no sweat.

We walked down Commonwealth Ave and across Boston Commons stopping for the occasional photograph or people watching moment. For all the negative things I could say about the city of Boston, there is absolutely no arguing with the fact that it is a really beautiful city. My very first visit to Boston was for Thanksgiving in 2002, a holiday that was accompanied by an early ice/snowstorm. While on many levels that particular trip was absolutely fucking miserable, I will always remember the beauty of the city covered in crystalline ice...and now I was here at the opposite time of year, with the city decked in green leaves and sunshine and looking just as lovely.

We took small detours, swinging by the site of the actual Boston Massacre (a rather unassuming circle on a cobblestone street) and down the market before we reached the water, to enjoy the full force of that ocean breeze and the sun reflecting off the water. Some days, it's just impossible not to love the world.

Sweet crooning from Elbow's rather impressive latter day output. Good stuff.

Auctioneer - The Broken West - Now or Heaven - 2008

My friend Shani had hooked us up with a discount rate at the Marriot in Copley Square, which is located inside the Prudential building. Our spacious and accommodating room was on the 17th floor with a great view across the Charles. The building had a gym and pool facilities, 2 bars, and a very friendly concierge service. If nothing else, we couldn't really complain about the lodgings.

Once we were settled in and had had our pre-game cocktail, we hit the subway to go check out Jamaica Plain. I'd been to JP a few times to stay with a previous girlfriend's sister and her husband and found it a nice enough neighborhood. It's clearly Boston's best swing at having a Brooklyn style area, with neighborhood pubs, little cafe's and craft stores. It would do the trick on a sunny Friday afternoon.

After dealing with Boston's almost useless subway system, we got off and found our first bar with the Jeanie Johnston Pub, which was easily the least interesting bar we were in that night. We kicked off the festivities with a beer and a shot and some small talk, before heading out...so far we were unimpressed.

After that we hit James's Gate, a totally cool Irish Pub in the center of the hood. The problem with this place was that it's a winter bar. Old world style dark wood fixtures, steaming bowls of clam chowder, and thick pints of stout are all great on a chilly November night, but on a hot July day...we ended up in the back yard watching the girls walk down the sidewalk, downing a few pints and a some chicken wings. The younger Singh had a salad, for which we gave him no end of shit. Then we settled up and headed back to our explorations.

The Broken West does non-threatening power pop with a fair bit of melody. What it lacks in risk, it makes up for in sunny accessibility. They aren't going to change your life or anything, but this song is a fine example of the way that a simple sing-song melody can be stuck in your head for days.

Attention - Gentlemen Jesse and His Men - Introducing Gentlemen Jesse - 2008

So ever since I was 15, my left eye has been noticeably worse off than my right. I wear glasses from time to time, and for a while wore them most of the time. Last summer I lost my glasses and since then have basically been going without. As a Brooklyn resident, I rarely drive and it's such a gigantic hassle to go to a movie in NYC...so I rarely need to pull out one of my old pairs. Most of the time I just make do with the good right eye.

The problem with this is that I've developed a head lean to favor the good eye. Additionally, I am noticeably aware of my left eye going lazy. This has lead me to try a few experiments, which if nothing else, makes me acutely aware of the way my brain process visual information.

Perhaps the one that is the most entertaining involves me blindfolding the right eye to force the left eye to get some exercise. I'll usually blindfold it for about half an hour and then do something that requires some visual work...play a video game, read a book or webpage, walk around the apartment swiftly. After about 20 minutes, when I remove the blindfold, a weird thing happens. There is a few seconds in which I am aware of my brain switching. At first the flood of information coming into the right eye is overwhelming. Then, I can feel my brain realizing that the information is more valuable than that coming in through my left...and in response, the left returns to it's "lazy" state.

This all happens in like 2 seconds, but it's a cool 2 seconds.

Anyway, Gentlemen Jesse sounds more or less exactly like The Exploding Hearts, only with less quality, less exuberance, and fewer dead members.

Ate It Twice - Boston Spaceships - Brown Submarine - 2008

So, the second time a guy broke his hand on my face, I was 15, and if time #3 is the better story...then time #2 is the stranger one.

I was a freshman in highschool and was just starting to get comfortable with this notion of having a friend who was a girl (as comfortable as any man ever can be with it) and I had a friend named Jen. She was a shy, bookish girl who would later go on to become a doctor and we had a sort of low key lunch table friendship that was helped by the fact that she wasn't particularly my type. Now the problem was this kid named Aaron.

Aaron was a very particular midwest type...short, scrawny and even whiter than me Aaron adopted the pose of the "Bad Ass". He kept his head shaved and wore combat boots every single day and was convinced that he could kick the shit out of anyone who got in his way. He ran with a dopey flunky, who's name I can no longer remember (though we called him Wing Nut). Anyway, Aaron and his flunky would frequently make stops at my lunch table to toss game at Jen.

Now at the time, I found the notion of him and Jen together ridiculous. As I said, she was studiuos and shy and in my mind was so far above that little twirp that she shouldn't have even given him the time of day...I was too inexperienced to realize that women will often date men wildly beneath them. So I spent the entirity of Aaron's visits belittling him while he was trying to get his groove on. And I was a smartass, so my belittling was probably fairly brutal...but even then I was six inches taller and probably 40 pounds heavier than the kid. This started a sort of mini-cold war between me and Aaron, with me constantly ripping on him while he seethed and postured. This goes on for a few weeks.

So one Friday night, I'm on a date...one that was already disastoriously bad BEFORE the violence erupted. My friend Bryan, who was immune to shame and as such always had dates lined up, had fixed me up with the friend of whoever his current girl was. And as usual in this arrangement it was a terribly bad match, because the friend was always a shy quiet girl...so we'd both sit in awkward silence while Bryan pawed his girl.

That particular night we'd also chosen a particularly bad venue for our date...the school play. Now granted, there isn't a ton of stuff you can do on a high school date in the Midwest, and even less before you can drive...but still, the school production of Little Shop of Horrors was probably a bad call. And it was an even worse call for me, because the sole reason I was attending was because I had a massive ungodly brutal crush on the senior who was the lead in the play...my date was so little the object of my attention at that play that I even forgot her name (Incidentally, it was also Jennifer, a fact that I'll never forget NOW).

So anyway, the play lets out, my date is going horribly and I'm standing on the corner with my friend and the girl's waiting for Bryan's mom to pick us up. I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around. At that point, Aaron grabs a hold of my shoulder and uses this to leverage himself to jump up and punch me in the face.

To Be Continued...

Bob Pollard's Boston Spaceships seems to be the closest thing we'll get to a "return to form" from Uncle Bob. Stripped of his prog rock leanings that he's cultivated over his past few solo albums (and the last few GBV albums), he returns to straight ahead guitar rock and by and large it serves him well. I haven't enjoyed a Pollard Release this much since...well at least since Half Smiles of the Decomposed.

Astronaut - Beach House - Devotion - 2008

I can hardly think of a better song for a dark and rainy Monday than this little gem. Beach House has an oddly appropriate name. Rather than sounding like the music you hear at the beach though, they sound like the feeling of being stuck in a beach house on a cold and rainy day, of looking out at the ocean and wishing you could swim in it. Droney organ, super slow girl group harmonies, and lead singer Victoria Legrand's lethargic angel vocals all work to add a great soundtrack to this gloomy 4/20.

This is my brother's last night in town, so I'm gearing up my liver for one more night of drinking...then Shani shows up. One of these days I'll get some rest, honest...

Arms Against Atrophy - Titus Andronicus - The Airing of Grievances - 2008

The Airing of Grievances was one of the few capital "R" rock albums that really grabbed me last year. In a year that was primarily dominated by dancey electronica and hushed, pastoral folk, it was nice to find an album that could find a way to marry low fi production with shredded vocal and bashed drums energy levels and still be interesting.

And this was probably the song that sold me on them, with it's Westerburg-esque vocals, paint by numbers guitar solo and intense Catholic imagery to describe something fairly mundane (in this case a broken arm) this song had me at "Hello"

Ares - Bloc Party - Intimacy - 2008

So, after spending a relatively lazy and mostly sober weekend at home I ended up getting violently ill on Monday night. I'll spare you most of the gory details (though I assure you, they are quite gory)...but probably the most grueling part was after midnight on Monday (Tuesday if you want to be pedantic). The only position I could take that would not leave me horribly naseous was to lay on my back...however, I have never been able to sleep on my back. So, this left me laying in a kind of dazed limbo all night long...never quite asleep, looking at the clock every fifteen minutes and doing the math on how much sleep I'd be able to get if I got to sleep right then. Or then. Or then.

I'm not even really sure what I thought about during this time or how my mind passed the time (other than the occassional prayers to God that he'd let me die). I spent all of yesterday in a fog, listless and confused (more than usual). I didn't want to mess up my sleep schedule too much, so I forced myself to stay up till ten and then promptly passed the fuck out. I could honestly have used another day of sleep, but dear sweet lord did that suck.

If you had told me in 2006 that I would greet the release of Bloc Party's 3rd album with an earth shattering yawn, I wouldn't have believed you...well, that's not neccesarily true, I've seen plenty of examples of the Sophomore Slump taking all the wind out of a band's sails...but if this band had anything going for it in 2006, it was wind in their sails. Either way, this song isn't bad...it returns some of the rock that was desperately missing from A Weekend In The City...but can't quite escape the sameness that has plagued all of their albums.

Arcturus - Crystal Antlers - Crystal Antlers EP - 2008

For a person who majored in film, I have seen a shockingly low number of films in the theater this year. Easily less than 10...probably less than 5. On some level I can blame what is almost universally regarded as a bad year in film...but I must also say that I feel as if movies are not made for me anymore. By and large they are made for children or middle aged women or protracted adolescents, and at least 2 of those I am not.

But having said that, I've actually been to the movies twice in the last week (The Wrestler and Gran Torino) and have to say that both films were absolute home runs...but then I have to think about why I connected to them. Both are about men out of their time...who look at the present day and niether understand it, nor particularly like it. This is helped by two performances by lead actors whose heydays were in other and far different time periods...and good as Mickey Rourke was, I can't help but be more touched by Eastwood's performance.

Eastwood (the actor) has been an institution longer than I've been alive by a decade. I'm niether a hater nor his biggest fan. None of his films would make my top ten (though Unforgiven would probably make top 20)...but there is the fact that Eastwood really is our last real cowboy. Other actors have ridden horses and worn hats since Eastwood first played the man with no name...but none have been so unquestionably identified with the genre like Clint. Even his other most famous role, as Dirty Harry, is something of a cowboy's role. And none of those other actors acted in a time when the Western was a real force in cinema. Sure they still make them, but the days of Stagecoach, Rio Bravo, The Searchers, and The Good The Bad and The Ugly are well behind us, and have been for my entire life.

And here was Clint, playing this man from another era facing a very modern and ignoble Detroit. If the rumors are true, and this is his last role...then I can hardly think of a better one. It allows him to be funnier than I've ever seen him, and ultimately more touching. To briefly enter spoiler territory, when Walt goes to his final showdown...he can't help but have the ghosts of THe Man With No Name, Dirty Harry, Josey Wales, and William Muny at his shoulder...which is why when the showdown goes the way it does, it couldn't be anymore beautiful. Sure, there is the obvious Christ metaphor at play (Which niether Clint, nor the exceptionally Catholic screenplay shys away from), but hasn't he earned it? Both in his career and in this film?

Also, I have to give the film credit for having a priest that was a decent man. Sure, the priest was presented as callow and niave, a charge that he himself does not deny, but he was above all else decent. And when was the last time you could say that about a priest in a modern movie that was neither about molestation nor exorcisms?

Anyway, I loved the movie and Clint's performance...

As for the song, these guys seem to be mining similar territory to Single Frame: A little spazzy, a little space rocky and a little punk/noise rock infused. They do it well enough, but Single Frame made it work with better songwriting than these guys muster here. Their full length is due this year, maybe they'll actually sharpen their chops for that.

Archer v Light - Chris Walla - Field Manual - 2008

It seems kind of fitting that I say good bye to 2008 with a song like this...a song that probably seemed very relevant before November 4th and already seems a little bit dated, like a 60's protest song.

I've probably said before how shocked so many of my friends (including myself) were by the 2000 election. We simply thought of Republicans as old people and bible nerds, surely they could never unite to over come the basic "rightness" of the Clinton Administration...but that was the shortsightedness of youth. Never having seen the pendulum of history swing, I was honestly stunned that a simple blow job could sway the country so dramatically.

And now, as we sit on the brink of a new era, and Chris Walla's protest song sounds so dated...I have to fear that the same complacency will set in with the American left again. "No one is going to elect a Republican after what Bush has done"...but the pendulum always sways.

Musically, Walla was always the brains behind Death Cab, but sadly his voice is reedy and not that interesting...and it's sort of shocking that anyone could have a more reedy voice than Ben Gibbard (Oh and on that subject, how does that wussy little emo boy end up engaged to Zooey Deschanel? There is no justice in the world)

The Apt. - Times New Viking - Rip It Off - 2008

As an avid drinker and a nine year resident of the city of New York, I have complicated relationships with many bars in this city. There are the now defunct bars that I hated at the time, but romaticize in the past (The corny MC Exchange that was the bar of my Dotcom, the truly awful Village Idiot that used to sell cheap pitchers when i lived in Manhattan). There are the bars that I used to haunt but am now too old and cranky to tolerate the young clientele (Blue and Gold, Soda). The bars from my old neighborhood (Enid's, Matchless) that I don't visit so much anymore. The places I went with co-workers, the places I went to meet up before concerts, and the places I just found myself all have complex histories, but none is more convoluted than my relationship to Nevada Smith's.

I'm sure I must have talked about Smith's at some point, but for a quick recap: Smith's is a bar in the nether zone that is niether the East Village nor quite Union Square. It is uniformly dark, not especially cheap, generally smells like an arm pit, and it's owner is a cranky old asshole of the highest order. It remains the only bar I've ever been thrown out of in my entire life...but I've probably at this point clocked more hours in this bar than any other in the world.

You see, Nevada Smith's is the bar to go to, to watch English Premeire League Soccer. If my team's game isn't being shown on cable, it's basically my only option, and I am a devoted enough fan that I am willing to go to a bar at 730 AM if need be (for a 1230 kick off in London). This means that no matter how much I may hate this place, no matter how many times I've sworn that I'll never step foot in that place again...as long as EPL games aren't all on TV, I'll be forced to go (Well, "Forced").

But as I was there on Saturday to watch Arsenal beat Portsmouth, I stopped to realize how much the place had changed in the five years I had been there. When I first started attending, a heart broken young man looking for an excuse to drink in the mornings and finding it in soccer, the place was almost exclusively attended by Brits. We Americans were the intruders, the interlopers who would never really understand the sport. There were many colorful charcaters and even more colorful language. The Arsenal corner was ruled by a Frenchman named Andre who was always there and knew more profanity than the devil himself. Andre once broke his hand pounding on the bar during a frustrating match.

Gradually through the years a new type of patron began attending who was niether us nor them: NYU students looking for a place to keep an all night bender going or to kick start the day with beer. They knew the place was open at 7AM, and if the abuse of a few brits was the price to be paid then so be it...but gradually these obnoxious kids picked up the sport, and in a step me and my friends didn't even take, the culture.

I was struck by this moment on Saturday, when I realized that there was just as much singing as always in Smith's but not a single one of the singers was british. These kids had learned the songs and taken up the mantle, but had also driven their British teachers away. It was an odd moment, on one hand seeing American's embracing soccer and "football culture" was a source of pride, on the other it's sad to see the old replaced by the obnoxious new. I certainly left with my complicated relationship with Smith's even more complicated than ever.

Anyway, I get the deal with Times New Viking, they play catchy garage rock, but recorded at earbusting levels so that it seems that their engineer has no clue what they are doing. This is the same trick that has gone on since The Beatles first learned to use feedback, i.e. cover something sugary in so much noise that the listener has to dig to find the sweetness. Usually I'm a fan of this strategy, but frankly, to further put on my old man hat, I just think the sonic mess is too great...it just sounds badly recorded...and not even a "recorded in a dumpster" way that The Thermals sometimes pull, but in a "I can't hear the actual song" way that I just don't care for.

Kids these days!

Anvil - Tapes n Tapes - Walk it Off - 2008

So my boss took me and my department to lunch today at a semi-swanky Thai place in Soho. The food was good (though Thai food, much like Indian food is always the same, regardless of how nice the ambience) but the most notable things about the place where the bathrooms.

The back wall of the restaurant was a wall of mirrors in which two descrete doors were located. When you entered the single stall bathrooms you discover that the mirrors are all two way. This means that when the door is shut, the people on the outside see a mirror, but you actually see it as a window. So, even if you are consciously aware that the people out eating their lunch can't actually see you...it still subconsciously feels like you are peeing with your back to an audience. And I can't imagine being a girl, sitting down to an entire audience in front of you...

Why exactly is this a desirable feature in a bathroom?

Tapes n Tapes first album had a few moments of inspiration. They're second album nearly defines the term sophomore slump. Which is a shame, because I had high hopes for the work of producer Dave Fridmann. But yeah, this album blows.

Another Way In - The Rosebuds - Life Like - 2008

Funny thing...I just bought and added this album to my iPod this AM, just in time for this song to jump to the head of the line. So this is a super fresh perspective.

Typically on any Rosebuds album Kelly Crisp will sing 2-3 songs, and this is one of them. Though she'll never be blessed with either the pipes or the chops of her husband, there is a certain charm to her deadpan vocals. Additionally, her songwriting (assuming she writes the songs she sings) has improved making her songs a bit more interesting. This song continues in the same dark vein as her songs on Night of the Furies.

I haven't listened to the whole record, but if Ivan Howard continues the shoegaze-y guitar playing he demonstrates in the second half of this song throughout the album, then that can only be a good thing.

Another Day - Times New Viking - Rip It Off - 2008

The other night I was looking for dinner in my hood. I wasn't really feeling like cooking, but all of my usual neighborhood options were not appealing to me. I was sort of wandering around aimlessly when I remembered that my ex-girlfriend (who still lives in the hood) had pointed out to me that there was a deli on her block that makes really good sandwiches. I decided to investigate.

The deli was small, and clearly existed only for it's sandwich counter, as there weren't many groceries on display. And behind the counter was a small Dominican kid with wire rimmed glasses. After a few seconds of watching me consider my sandwich options, he asked if I'd like a recommendation. I said "sure" and the kid went into his schpiel.

"First, you gotta go with the honey roasted turkey" He held up the turkey breast as evidence. "Then...you like swiss cheese."

"Sure"

"Then...I've got just the thing for you...we've got this Guryere...aged 9 months. This is the Swiss Cheese of swiss cheeses. You gotta try this....a little tomato, a little onion, maybe some deli mustard."

I told the kid to make it happen. He even gave me samples as he was slicing. In this city it's so easy to get used to people being churlish or curt with you. You become custom to everyone having a "what the fuck do you want?" attitude. Sometimes it's nice to be surprised by legitimate enthusiasm, and honest conneisuership.

And honestly, it was a great fucking sandwich.

Sadly, this song isn't as good...it's mostly just loud. But thankfully it's less than 2 minutes long.

An Animal in Your Care - Wolf Parade - At Mount Zoomer - 2008

Well, I was hoping to make it to the "Anne's" today, since it is my six month anniversary with my lady friend...but I suppose this will do as a tribute.

Actually, it probably won't as we disagree on this song...oh, and also it seems to compare a dating relationship to owning a pet....but whatever.

But as with any of Spencer Krugs songs on the second WP album, the question is...does the song's strengths get drowned out in Krugs' idiosyncrasies. With this one in particular his vocal yelp is dialed down to a fairly manageable level, and as I said the lyrics, with it's comparison to the family dog as lover, are kinda fascinating. But most of all, it is the contrapuntal stomp that begins at 2:06 (nearly the exact midpoint of the song) that really brings the song home. It begins with a simple, almost Bach-ish piano line and slowly ads instruments to the rhythm until the band as a whole seems to be marching in step. Seeing it live certainly ads to the enjoyment of the song, as this outro section seems to boil over with tightly wound suspense.

Not my favorite song on Mt. Zoomer, but certainly one of the best.

Alphabet Pony - The Kills - Midnight Boom - 2008

For a period between March 17th 2003 to February 20th 2004 I worked a job that required me to take a 1 hour and 40 minute commute each way. Specifically I had to take the G train about 10 minutes, then the E train for about 40 minutes to the outer edges of Queens. I then had to ride a bus for about another 40 minutes into Long Island proper, and then finally I had to walk about a mile and a half from the bus stop to the industrial park where the company I was working at was located. On the plus side, it was, at the time, the most money I'd ever made....still that didn't make the commute any more tolerable, particularly given my feelings on the MTA.

For the first 9 months of this job I did not have an iPod...just an old faithful CD player. During this period I got moderately into The Kills first album. I bought the CD for two reasons, first of all I'm a sucker for an angry, dark-haired, rocker girl and secondly, I generally like bluesy british riff rock. I liked the album well enough, but it never really stuck with me.

Recently while cruising the indie rock bulliten board I saw that they had released a third album (I missed the second one) and was not surprised to discover that the third album sounds pretty much like their first one. Nice enough, but nothing too exciting.

And for those that are curious, I remember those exact dates because I started the job on St. Patrick's day (The Iraq War would start on Friday of that week) and finished the Friday before my birthday.

Alphabet - The Notwist - The Devil, You, and Me - 2008

You ever been to a show, wherein the opening band was bad that they almost entirely eclipse your memory of the band you were actually there to see....as a fairly seasoned concert goer I've had this happen to me several times...enough so that I actually have a list of the WORST opening band experiences...at #3 on that list is a band that called themselves Themselves...they opened for The Notwist at Bowery Ballroom back on the Neon Golden tour and they were unbelievably bad.

Imagine a German version of Fishbone...and I really think that is all the description that you need.

Okay one more thing, their lead singer had blue dreads...blue dreads for christ sake!

Anyway, the only redeeming factor was that The Notwist was actually a much better live experience than I would have credited them for. Energetic and engagely experimental, and just German enough to be charming, but not enough to be off putting. Anyway, their new album is pretty good...if perhaps lacking the high points of Neon Golden.

All I Need - Radiohead - Radiohead at the BBC - 2008

One of the joys of being a Radiohead fanatic (at least for me) lies in listening to the way they recreate their dense studio atmospherics in a live setting. If you download this or whatever, be sure to notice the cool rumbling distortion underlying most of the song.

Airbag - Radiohead - Live at the BBC, April 1st 2008 - 2008

I can't remember who said this, but I remember reading an interview with someone who stated that in order to be truly great, every band needs a member who kinda sucks...or else they end up sounding like Rush. This is the Ringo Starr theory, if you will. In Radiohead, this member is Ed O'Brien. And for this reason, and many others, Ed is my favorite member of the band.

First of all, at 6 foot 4, Ed towers over the rest of the band. Seeing him and Thom standing next to each other is rather like a scene from Lord of the Rings. Also, Ed is almost always stoned. There are a few songs in which he does not have a part to play...you can generally see him off to the side of the stage smoking up during these songs. Ed is the only one who seems to really enjoy being a rock star, and the most willing to take the piss out of Thom. But beyond this, Ed's limited technical skills have actually forced him to become one of the more interesting players in the band. Basically, he plays effects pedals. Only on the older songs (or the throw backs like Go TO Sleep) do you see him playing a traditional second guitar player's role...most of the time he just makes weird noises.

Airbag is a great example of "What Does Ed Do Exactly" (my favorite game to play at a Radiohead show)...he is the guitar line that comes in at about the 10 second mark...neither that monster riff of Johnny's, nor Thom's crunching rhythm part, but the tinkling little, The Edge inspired bit that comes in underneath it all. Additionally, you get Ed's capable background vocals on the "Woah-oh-oh" part at the end...well, on live versions, Thom usually over dubs him in the studio...

Yes. I do realize I'm a giant nerd.

A-Punk - Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend-2008

For all the talk about this band making a new twist on indie-rock by adding the afro-pop elements...this doesn't seem to be anything The Clash wasn't doing in their reggae mode. Plus they seem to have lifted Johnny Marr's guitar tone straight from "This Charming Man". Not that any of this is a bad thing...just further proof that there really is nothing new under the sun.