Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Boredom is the mother of invention (if buying CDs is inventive, that is)

Aside from how awesome it is that my computer at home doesn’t work, I am having similar issues at the place of business. Maybe I’m my own Mercury-in-Retrograde since shit’s breaking all around me. My home is like an electronics graveyard: the DVD player’s working but not hooked up to the TV I still can’t watch, the VCR is bona-fide b-r-o-k-e-n as is the 6 CD-changer I didn’t bother to hook up to the tuner which doesn’t get any radio stations (no antennae) and sometimes I can get my record player to work for a few minutes before an awful noise overtakes the speakers as if it’s reverb on an amp. (Have I mentioned this before? Am I a broken record?) Anyway, my iPod headphones are too scratchy to be of any quality use, so I am using some cheapo ones from an o-l-d MP3 player but the cord from the headphones is super short, so movement during use is limited. Not that it matters too too much, since I have no access to iTunes anymore, lost as it is behind the darkness of the laptop’s cruel screen. Egads. The woman, she may as well live in the stone ages, depending on the color from berries to squeeze on a slab of rock for entertainment (when not running from mastodons or being clubbed on the head and dragged by the hair by some total Cro-magnon).

It’s not all bad. I still have CDs, which I play through the DVD player via the tuner and they sound great through my trusty little Bose speakers. No TV equals not only more reading but much more listening to music and—to unite my teeny media worlds—reading about music. I recommend this month’s Blender magazine, not just because of the eerie resemblance of one of the members of My Chemical Romance (featured on the cover) to a friend from 5th grade on through high school (Fleck, can I get a witness? It’s creepy, seriously. I keep doing quadruple-takes.). You should also read it because of the hilarious interview with Jared Leto, which reveals, in no uncertain terms, just what a jackass that guy truly is. So funny and I’d like to acknowledge the hard-hitting fear-no-backlash reporter who boldly described Leto—in the very article—as “kind of a douchebag.” Now, that’s journalism, people. (Also, it’s the LA issue, which automatically makes it like 1,000 times more interesting.)

Since the music revolution in the crib has taken hold, I found the need to recharge the supply and, thus, headed out to Amoeba on Sunday. About two things will bring me willingly to Hollywood: my friend A and Amoeba. The former is fabulous and fun and the latter is a huge record store with new, used, super-bargain-basement-used CDs, tapes, records, DVDs, etc. and all are guaranteed to play perfectly. Here’s what I got, mostly all used:

  1. Silversun Pickups—Pickul. Awesome, awesome, awesome. I got this CD because I so love their newest one (the song “Lazy Eye” has been getting some alterna-airplay of late). I totally dig this band and think you should, too. It burns me that they’ll be playing here when I’ll be playing in New York. It doesn’t appear that they’ll be back for months either. Dis.
  2. French Kicks—Trial of the Century. Bought somewhat spur of the moment based 100% on my love of the title track. So, so good. Haven’t listened to the album yet, will report back.
  3. Sonic Youth—CD version of a 10” that I’ve had for about 10 years which includes 100%, Crème Brulee, some other song, and Genetic, aka the-song-I-was-obsessed-with-in-grad-school.
  4. Despite it’s name (“The Cool List” (ugh)), I also got NME’s 2005 compilation, which, halfway into it, kicks ass. Here’s why: We Are Scientists, The Go! Team, Clap Your Hands and Say Yeah, and Be Your Own Pet. The first two I know I love, the second two I’ve loved in passing and want to hear more. Other good reasons to buy this CD, I’m learning: Test Icicles (total rock and roll), The Cribs, The Paddingtons, Antony and the Johnsons. Kano could be a winner. Forward Russia has promise as well as The Long Blondes. More still, but haven’t gotten to it yet.

All of this is to say that I have finally emerged from the phase that consisted solely of Blood on the Tracks, motivated by evening walks in the park with the Timbot and Sureshot when, seeing park benches, the lyrics took hold: They sat together in the dark/as the evening sky grew dark/She looked at him and he felt a spark/tingle to his bones.

Such a great song from such a great album, but the quiet evenings with Dylan, candlelight and dinner preparation have now been supplanted with rock and roll, Blender magazine and pizza. Sometimes I get antsy, and sometimes what soothes the soul isn’t calm.

Or maybe I just wanna rock—gotta rock—and no one and I mean NO ONE, not even YOU, Mr. Gurgencheck, can stop me.


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