Tuesday, September 27, 2005

"Fucking gorgeous" is not a phrase to throw around willy-nilly, like "hey, what's up" or "woman, go get me a beer." It's generally reserved for describing things like Britney Spears or Jack Spade bags. But, that notwithstanding, I have to tell you: the weather today in New York City is absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Monday, September 26, 2005

Ten second stream-of-conciousness album reviews and first impressions:

The Joggers - Solid Guild: These guys have the buzz, but I missed them at CMJ. Too bad, because they sound like they would have an energetic live show. This one is going to have to grow on me a little bit, but even at first listen it's compelling. Good, solid sound. Not the next Arcade Fire, but expect these guys to stick around for awhile. Final Score: 3.0/5.0. Get and spend a few days with it. It'll be worth it.

Antony and the Johnsons - I Am a Bird Now: What the hell? This guy won the British equivilent of a Grammy? "Critically acclaimed?" Jesus, the critics who "acclaimed" this album must be getting tons of cash in kickbacks. Somebody owes me a half-hour of my life back. Final Score: 0.0/5.0. There is absolutely nothing redeeming about this album.

Little Brother - The Minstral Show: Good knight this album is fantastic. Seriously, get it. Better than Kanye, young enough to have a lot of great stuff in front of them. Plus, we gotta give it up for Rally/Durham. Final Score: 4.5/5.0, but only because the beats could be a little better.

Coheed and Cambria - Good Apollo: Concept albums are usually tough to get through. Mars Volta got me listening to them for a few months two summers ago, but it gets boring when you have to shove lots of extra material into an album just to force it to fall in line with some preconcieved notion of what the album should be. Good Apollo has some highlights, but it also has some stuff that shouldn't be there. Final Score: 2.5/5.0. They could have cut out the crap and have a great EP, if it weren't for trying to come off as intelligent.

Danger Doom - The Mouse and the Mask: Never got into that whole "Fuck the man" Dangermouse craze, so I haven't listened to the Grey Album or anything else he's done. But MF Doom always brings the gas face, and this album is a tribute to Cartoon Network's Adult Swim, so you have to give it a try. DM's beats lack once in awhile, if you ask me, but Doom saves the parts that are less than dancable. Something about that voice, man. He sounds like a chainsmoking Biggie. Plus, that sample from Sealab where Stormy is talking about Black Debbie is classic. Final Score: 4.0/5.0. Pick it up for real.

Motion City Soundtrack - Commit This to Memory/I Am the Movie: I'd never heard of these guys until last week, and it makes me sad. And then it makes me mad and I'm all "HULK SMMMAAAASSSHHH." It's cool, though, because I've found them now. These guys are doing what New Found Glory has been trying to do for the past seven years. And they do it tremendously well. If you don't dance to these songs, you got no soulll, baby. Call it emo if you want, but it's still damn good. Final Score: 4.0/5.0 and 4.5/5.0.

Sigur Ros - Takk: Well, it's Sigur Ros. If you want a nice quiet night sitting around talking to friends, this album will fill the awkward silences perfectly. If you want anything else, skip it. Final Score: 2.5/5.0, because, while very good and accessible (and in fictional languages, no less!), it doesn't do you much good unless you are trying to go to sleep.

Wednesday, September 21, 2005

I wouldn't say that I'm busy at work, so much as mired in a shitstorm of office politics, phone tag, chain smoking and attempting to interpret emails forwarded and cc'd to everyone in the corporation before it reaches my desk for me to do. When I drag myself out Friday afternoon, maybe you'll get a new post.

Friday, September 16, 2005

I remember that even though I was dreading the winter, it felt nice to open the window in the kitchen so that the bite of cool air circulated past the oven and back out the open window in the living room that faced clear, blue sky. You can tell when the air will have this particular effect simply by looking out the window at the sky. It seems to look bluer, somehow, and has a peculiar clearness that it just doesn't have when it's warm and humid outside.

The current created by opening these two particular windows drew the smell of stuffing and squash casserole into the rest of the apartment and forced upon my imagination a number of comparisons that I generally like to pretend that I can ignore. Not that holidays bear any kind of negative connotations, by any means, but that watching these events occur in my own house without the company of adults invokes phrases like "grown up" and "dinner parties" and "honey, did you turn out the light in the bathroom?" Well, that and the noticeable lack any resemblance to a holiday celebration that I have ever encountered. We did, now that I think about it, have one relative. A youngish cousin of hers who came from Jersey to kill a few hours before taking off again to spend the long weekend in the city. He smelled badly of cigarettes and I recall comparing him in my mind to one of my brothers, and imagining that when he left to meet his friends that there would undoubtedly be iniquitous plans attached to the evening.

But certainly, the house was far from the bustling atmosphere that I have come to associate with holidays spent cooking and babysitting and reacquainting ourselves with friends and family who we rarely see, and always forget to call on their birthdays.

The evening, while now wrapped in layers of symbolism and bridge-burning and point-of-no-return, seemed simply a joyous day at the time. Clearly, the smell of turkey cooking must evoke happy memories in most every red-blooded American. Add football, the breeze floating through our fourth-story apartment, anticipation of Christmas. New experiences, friends, sights, a home.

As the season approaches again, the receding mercury excites me. Boots and heaters and Fifth Avenue deserted in the middle of the afternoon! And I guess I'm not quite excited about having to be the one who cooks the turkey, instead of just being there to eat it, but I suppose that, with time, I could get kind of used to it.
At least the overwhelming majority of Democrats aren't as whiny and self righteous as bloggers. Right?

Monday, September 12, 2005

This is why I don't write on my blog:

Monday: NOLA Fundraiser 5:00 pm - 9:00 pm
Tuesday: Laundry Day 5:00 pm - 7:00 pm
Wednesday: RHI End of Summer Drunkfest 5:00 pm - Godknowswhen am
Thursday: CMJ 6:00 pm - 4:00 am
Friday: CMJ 6:00 pm - 4:00 am
Saturday: CMJ 12:00 pm - 4:00 am


Thursday, September 08, 2005

I really hate people who spell their name "Cyndi."

Thursday, September 01, 2005