singing a song about the wildness of the sea

The Night House

Every day the body works in the fields of the world
Mending a stone wall
Or swinging a sickle through the tall grass-
The grass of civics, the grass of money-
And every night the body curls around itself
And listens for the soft bells of sleep.

But the heart is restless and rises
From the body in the middle of the night,
Leaves the trapezoidal bedroom
With its thick, pictureless walls
To sit by herself at the kitchen table
And heat some milk in a pan.

And the mind gets up too, puts on a robe
And goes downstairs, lights a cigarette,
And opens a book on engineering.
Even the conscience awakens
And roams from room to room in the dark,
Darting away from every mirror like a strange fish.

And the soul is up on the roof
In her nightdress, straddling the ridge,
Singing a song about the wildness of the sea
Until the first rip of pink appears in the sky.
Then, they all will return to the sleeping body
The way a flock of birds settles back into a tree,

Resuming their daily colloquy,
Talking to each other or themselves
Even through the heat of the long afternoons.
Which is why the body-the house of voices-
Sometimes puts down its metal tongs, its needle, or its pen
To stare into the distance,

To listen to all its names being called
Before bending again to its labor.

–Billy Collins

[image: No Cream, No Sugar, by Jeremy Asher Lynch, via]

The Colbert bump

My two favorite fellows to come home to each night (Monday through Thursday, anyways) are, of course, Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert.

This week Colbert finally got ThePartyParty treatment — the mash-up artist behind these rad videos which still make me giggle like a loon.

Check out the latest creation, and prepare to have your own dance party of truthiness:

I’m dropping sugar everywhere I go.

and in the morning i’ll be with you (but it’ll be a different kind)

As the sun cracked up over the California horizon Sunday morning, I lay cuddled under a warm blanket a few states over, but amidst the palm trees and the eerie fog, my friend Dainon sent me a cell phone snap and then stood in the grey morning light filming this opening number in a Hollywood cemetery:

I’ve been watching every video I can find of Bon Iver‘s sunrise show, which surely was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I can’t think of an artist I’d rather hear while wrapped in a sleeping bag, sleepily smiling through thick fog as the sky turned pink (watch the rosy color change from the beginning to end of “Skinny Love”). It’s enough to give me all kinds of chills.

Dainon ends his review with recounting:

“How about we do this all again sometime?” Justin says, pausing. After some thought, he follows with: “No, how about we never do it again? How about that?” If he sealed his band’s fate with those words, you know? That’ll do.

EDIT: This is magical, especially the end.
(more wonderful vids)

Worried Mind – Megafaun

[full review]

Finding fool’s gold

Somewhere in the crazy sweaty hotness of my July, I missed a post by Aquarium Drunkard about a new Africa-influenced collective from his ‘hood of Los Angeles. Fool’s Gold is a mixed group of folks sometimes numbering near a dozen players, who are inspired by a shared love of Congolese, Ethiopian, Eritrean and Malian music and American dance-pop.

After seeing Mali’s Vieux Farka Touré (son of Ali) play the college where I work earlier this week in a joyous free show, this just feeds the nascent hunger in my belly for these heady, cyclical, pulsing rhythms. From the insistently exotic opening notes, I am intrigued.

Surprise Hotel – Fool’s Gold

Their self-titled album is out Tuesday (9/29) on IAMSOUND Records, and the whole thing is a perfect burst of warmth to this Indian summer i’m gettin’ this weekend.

FOOL’S GOLD TOUR DATES
Thu. 10/8 – La Jolla, CA @ The Loft – UC San Diego ^
Fri. 10/9 – Los Angeles, CA @ The Roxy Theatre ^
Sat. 10/10 – San Francisco, CA @ Bottom of the Hill ^
Sun. 10/11 -Portland, OR @ Holocene ^
Mon. 10/12 – Seattle, WA @ Nectar Lounge ^
Tue. 10/13 – Vancouver, BC @ The Red Room ^
Fri. 10/16 – Brooklyn, NY @ Cameo
Sat. 10/17 – New York, NY @ Cake Shop w/ Lemonade
Sun. 10/18 – Brooklyn, NY @ Sycamore
Mon. 10/19 – Brooklyn, NY @ Knitting Factory w/ Ocote Soul Sound
Wed. 10/21 – NYC @ Bowery Poetry Club - CMJ
Thu. 10/29 – Los Angeles @ Westfield Century City - KCRW’s World Music on the Terrace
Tue. 11/10 – Nashville, TN @ 3rd & Lindsley *
Wed. 11/11 – Athens, GA @ 40 Watt Club *
Sat. 11/14 – Charlottesville, VA @ IS Venue *
Sun. 11/15 – Philadelphia, PA @ First Unitarian Church *
Mon. 11/16 – Washington, DC @ Black Cat *
Tue. 11/17 – New York, NY @ Bowery Ballroom *
Sat. 11/21 – Northampton, MA @ Pearl Street Downstairs *
Sun. 11/22 – Burlington, VT @ Club Metronome *
Mon. 11/23 – Montreal, QC @ Petit Campus *
Tue. 11/24 – Toronto, ON @ El Mocambo Club *
Fri. 11/27 – Chicago, IL @ Lincoln Hall *
Sat. 11/28 – Madison, WI @ High Noon Saloon *
Sun. 11/29 – Minneapolis, MN @ The Varsity Theater *
Tue. 12/1 – Boulder, CO @ Boulder Theater *
Wed. 12/2 – Telluride, CO @ Sheridan Opera House *
Thu. 12/10 – Eugene, OR @ WOW Hall *

^ – with Metronomy
* – with Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros

Far away from these winter streets

Well, my summer is over with a bang and a strong gust. The wind outside has a wicked bite to it that chills down to the skin as if my layers weren’t even there. I don’t mind letting this gorgeous, whole summer slip off into memory — it was a good one, a summer where I grew my first (thriving) garden, spent time down in the rich damp soil with the crickets chirping around me at sunset, while I could often hear the bells from the college chapel tolling a reminder of where in the evening hours we found ourselves. It was a summer where I got back the gift of quiet contentment in the late, warm nights.

I read several wonderfully rich books over the summer as well, sometimes sitting out on my back porch with my feet on the railing while my kiddo ran and played with the other little people in our neighborhood, blazing past as a whir of lanky legs, bare feet, and often a collection of eew-inducingly-large bugs in his bug carrier. The two books I completed on the porch in these summer months that will stick with me are Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and So Brave, Young, and Handsome by Leif Enger. Both cast off sparks and loaned me great joy with their vocabulary and writing style, seamlessly knitting me into the worlds they created. Gilbert’s journey through a year of recovery and self-care in Italy, India, and Indonesia was a wellspring of simple strength and enjoyment on my bedside table, and Enger’s book consistently delighted me with unexpected beauty in the simplest turn of a sentence, weaving Cormac-McCarthy-worthy characters with a richer innocence. This summer, they nourished me.

I can smell smoke in the air tonight from a neighbor’s wood fire, out somewhere in this old neighborhood. I wrap the dense warmth of this sweater around me, and listen to this Marah song that has felt like a constant anthem of my last few winters. It’s a song with some thoughtful sadness in it, but also a solitude, a strength, and that wistfully warm harmonica that cuts through it and makes me think of driving over Highway 17 in California, towards the ocean on a clear October day.

Walt Whitman Bridge – Marah

Far away from these winter streets
On a cloudless day
Your memory, your memory
Your memory blows away from me…

[top image, Gustave Caillebotte]

Philly covers the Boss for his 60th

My friends over at WXPN in Philly are always in the process of doing something cool. Case in point — this week they’ve assembled 29 of their best local artists to cover Bruce Springsteen in honor of his SIXTIETH (yes) birthday tomorrow.

There’s a sold-out tribute show tomorrow night in Philly. Springsteen covers always sound good, yeah?

Mayer Hawthorne brings his retro cool to Denver this week

The Larimer Lounge has one of the loudest paint-peeling sound systems in all of Denver, and I tend to see a lot of raw, thumping shows inside those brick walls — whether it’s the calisthenic melee of the Handsome Furs, the “secret show” with England’s mega-power-poppers Supergrass, the facemelt of El Ten Eleven, or even a little set for me to DJ.

Tomorrow night, forget all that, maybe put on your good Sunday slacks and a healthy daub of Brylcreem and come buy me a mint julep for the total throwback sounds of young Mayer Hawthorne, on his first Denver stop.

Born and raised just outside Detroit, this whippersnapper (late-twenties) has come from a background of hip-hop and DJing, and despite a lifelong affinity for the sounds coming out of his dad’s old car stereo, he started making this doo-wop soul stuff just as a joke. Even the label heads couldn’t believe this was new material when Mayer first played his demos for them — even more amazing since he plays all the instruments, and recorded his swell songs at home in his bedroom.

Your Easy Lovin’ Ain’t Pleasin’ Nothin’ – Mayer Hawthorne

Ever since I was wowed by how sublime vintage soul can sound on a live stage, I’ve been curious to try and see more shows in the genre. From releasing his first 7″ on red, heart-shaped vinyl to covering M.I.A.’s “Paper Planes” in a San Francisco bar, Mayer’s having some fun with it, and I’d imagine he’ll bring the same tomorrow night.

I’m gonna try to buy him a drink (or a “drank,” if you will) to see if we can get him a little more feisty and fiery in concert, crack through that pomaded sheen of imperturbability and let loose with some howls, a gyration or two (does he do that?) and other activities better suited to the Larimer Lounge. Come on out and have some fun.

Just Ain’t Gonna Work Out (Astronote El Camino Remix) – Mayer Hawthorne

That’s one cool dude.

A Strange Arrangement is out now on Stone’s Throw Records.

MAYER HAWTHORNE FALL TOUR
Sep 23 – Larimer Lounge, Denver, Colorado
Sep 24 – The Waiting Room, Omaha, Nebraska
Sep 25 – Darkroom, Chicago, Illinois
Sep 26 – Blind Pig, Ann Arbor, Michigan
Sep 27 – Drake Hotel, Toronto, Ontario (–SOLD OUT–)
Sep 29 – Great Scott, Boston, Massachusetts
Sep 30 – Johnny Brenda’s, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Oct 1 – The Knitting Factory, Brooklyn, New York
Oct 2 – Mercury Lounge, New York, New York (–SOLD OUT–)
Oct 4 – DC9, Washington DC
Oct 5 – Local 506, Chapel Hill, North Carolina
Oct 6 – Drunken Unicorn, Atlanta, Georgia
Oct 7 – The Social, Orlando, Florida
Oct 9 – The Parish at House of Blues, New Orleans, Louisiana
Oct 10 – Red 7, Austin, Texas
Oct 13 – The Rock, Tucson, Arizona (w/ Ghostface Killah)
Oct 14 – The Clubhouse, Tempe, Arizona (w/ Ghostface Killah)
Oct 15 – Canes, San Diego, California (w/ Ghostface Killah)

But you…you just know. You just do.

The xx are a quartet of very young Londoners (under 20) who’ve grown up together and are setting folks a-talkin’ with their breathy, analgesic, unclassifiable sound, winning accolades from NME (one of their “Future 50″) to Pitchfork (“Best New Music”).

There’s a coy slyness in the female/male (xx/xy) blending of voices on this blissful duet that would seem at home in any number of musical epochs. A knowing friend sent me this song, suggesting I might enjoy it — and I absolutely do, for several reasons:

Within the simplicity of the song, I catch just one malleable, sexy guitar line (addictive in its repetition), a softly thumping drum, and some wooden xylophone action that brightens the corners subtly, not annoyingly. It clocks in at a shade under three minutes, so I have to keep it on repeat — in fact, their whole album is completely wrapping me up inside it right now.

I like the furtive momentary glimpse into a relationship here, and it sounds like something I would certainly like; you and me watching something on the VCR, being superstars — and just knowing.

VCR – The xx

You used to have all the answers
and you, you still have them too
and we, we live half in the daytime
and we, we live half at night

Watch things on VCRs with me
and talk about big love
I think we’re superstars
you say you think we are the best thing

But you, you just know

you just do

Their eponymous album (that’s, like, quadruple-x) is out now digitally, and physically in the US on October 6th on Young Turks/XL Recordings.

I can’t stop listening to it.

The xx US TOUR DATES
Oct 21 Mercury Lounge – New York
Oct 22 iTunes Instore (Apple Store, SoHo) – New York
Oct 23 Webster Hall – New York
Nov 11 Bowery Ballroom – New York
Nov 15 DC 9 – Washington DC
Nov 16 Local 506 – Chapel Hill, North Carolina
Nov 17 529 – Atlanta, Georgia
Nov 19 The Mohawk – Austin, Texas
Nov 20 Casbah – San Diego, California
Nov 21 Henry Fonda Theater – Hollywood, California
Nov 23 Independent – San Francisco, California
Nov 24 State University – Sacramento, California
Nov 25 Doug Fir Lounge – Portland, Oregon
Nov 26 Richard’s – Vancouver, British Columbia
Nov 27 Neumos – Seattle, Washington
Nov 30 Triple Rock – Minneapolis, Minnesota
Dec 1 Bottom Lounge – Chicago, Illinois
Dec 2 Mod Club – Toronto, Ontario
Dec 3 Le National – Montreal, Quebec
Dec 4 Paradise – Boston, Massachusetts
Dec 5 Webster Hall – New York

Clicker, Slider, Combat, and Flat Man

I’ve just been thoroughly entertained spending three minutes learning the facts about this white-clad, closely-related band of Mormons not-Mormons from Los Angeles called The Parson Red Heads. Their sound is bright and dappled, and the video gets it spot-on at the 1:34 mark when they talk about the best part of the song being the BA-BA-BA-BAAAAs.

There is, in fact, red hair involved with these folks, and they’ve all taken a stage name (a few listed in the title) with the common surname of Parson. Kinda reminds me of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes if they found some revelational religion and moved to Utah, or on a more cosmetic level, the Partridge Family if they dressed like the Bee Gees.

Punctual As Usual – Parson Red Heads

They have a new 7″ called Orangufang out now on JAXART, and they are on the road this fall with folks like Henry Clay People, Cotton Jones and Roadside Graves.

Completely winning video review sent to me from Dainon, who I should start paying a salary to, originally made by The Anchor Center, who I have decided to love. The video’s from January 2007, so I’m only slightly behind on this one.

The wet, wet glory of Monolith 2009 (come see what we saw)

The third annual Monolith Festival took over scenic Red Rocks in Colorado last weekend, with one of the most pleasantly-varied assortment of music yet, and I found much to entertain my ears. Perhaps I was more motivated this year than last, but despite the rain Saturday and drizzles on Sunday, I constantly found myself making tough choices between acts slotted simultaneously that I wanted to see. It’s good to have more than enough choices at a festival, running back and forth to catch the next buzzed-about act — and I certainly did at Monolith this year, along with lots of other folks.

Having just come from the massively spread-out Outside Lands Festival in San Francisco’s Golden Gate Park, I was struck by how small and intimate this festival still feels. Despite being packed in with several thousand of my closest concert-going friends of the Western States region, Monolith still felt like a boutique arrangement, with five stages squeezed into the rather compact natural park. I got to see some terrific folks.

Let’s start with a nice assortment of three videos I shot, showing why this is a marvelous festival:

Anni Rossi – “West Coast”

Rahzel – Beatboxing to “Seven Nation Army” and “Sexy Back”
(White Stripes and Justin Timberlake covers)

Monotonix, not yet showing his hairy buttcrack.

The diversity of artists this year was terrific. From discovering a new singer-songwriter with clever lyrics and gorgeous viola-playing skills (like Chicago’s Anni Rossi, who reminded me of Regina Spektor with strings), to clapping and hooting along while Rahzel (from The Roots) beatboxed his way through some wickedly enjoyable covers (that’s me laughing on the video when he announces “Remix!” and then does just that), to the roiling crowd response to Tel Aviv punk/rocker/remover-of-clothes Monotonix (who performed most of his set on the shoulders of the audience, and pulled his terrycloth shorts off in glee), Monolith kept me hopping (and climbing).

LISTEN to how I fell in love:
West Coast – Anni Rossi

Concert-companion Dainon and I are gonna tell you about a few other loves we each experienced during the weekend. One that we both agreed on is The Features from Tennessee, recently signed to Kings of Leon’s 429 Records, and one of the absolute best live shows I’ve seen in a long time: propulsive, melodic, catchy rock with a winning wail. I told the Facebook during the set that I thought I’d just bruised my thighs with the force of my leg-drumming. Their set meandered from awkward-punk-pop songs about falling in love on a Thursday to blistering rockers like this one:

Dainon says: True to the name they’ve attached to their music, The Features ought to really be featured on your radios, car stereos, and subconscious. Add one tiny, bearded man-wail to some of the loudest feeling music in all of Monolith (they filled up alla that wide open, Red-Rocked empty space) and you’re left with a band that demands you stay with them as they go about propelling themselves forward. Onward and up and through the hoops that should make ‘em famous. Prediction? They’ll be big. The band will overcome their height. The Features make you proud to be a lover of music. They’re a budding secret that needs passing on.

Thursday – The Features

Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes were definitely the most visually and kinetically stimulating band I had the pleasure of getting up close and personal with all weekend. I’m not sure I’d listen often to their utopian fantasy music that belongs frolicking wildly in a peyote-induced dream somewhere, for sure, but this band (fronted by a man not named Edward Sharpe, like whoa) wowed me with their obvious joy.

Dainon says: Cotton Jones looks like a bunch of guys had just stumbled in from a sleepy, fishing town (after a long hard day of the deep-sea fishing even) and decided to try their hand at some sangin. This is the beautiful stuff, the kind that sounded best on that darkened stage with those red lights—ambiance was on their side. This is the performance that invited the festival audience to catch its breath before stumbling on to the next. It was as invited as it was needed. In this world, flannel was spoken and razors were ignored. In this place, love is whispered through sidelong glances, key tickling and warm-on-a-rainy-day songs.

I (Heather) love this song even more after seeing it shimmer and slowly coalesce live:

Blood Red Sentimental Blues – Cotton Jones

“I just thought I’d tell ya, all the demons have been slain / there’s no need for hesitation, honey I been re-arranged…”

Denver’s Natural Selection at the opening night party was more fun to dance to than Chromeo’s shiny DJ set, for sure. I love basslines that make my chest vibrate and my teeth rattle in my head while I shake my hips. That sounds like some sort of torture method as I read that sentence back but trust me, it is fun. This bi-city band (Denver + St Louis, somehow) is a “funk-disco attack” of the finest variety — and appears to have a required uniform of a) awesome denim mini-cutoffs b) gold pants and a vest, no shirt or c) neon. Totally works for me.

Dainon says: The Grates are a happier, skippier take on that early No Doubt action, whether you choose to squint your eyes and go about seeing Gwen in its lead singer or not. There’s a sailor suit here, lots and lots of skipping and a smile so bright, your heart has no choice but to go boom (read into that whatever you choose to). She even took time to tell us about her having farted about 100 times since she’d got there on account of that crazy CO altitude. What’s more? It was endearing. Then again, what isn’t in an Australian accent? All’s I know is I wanted a hug when it was all over, if just to transfer some of that pixie-tastic energy over my way. For a good time, pick up either of their two albums. For a better one, go to a show and give the singer a shoulder ride when she asks for one, because she will. She so will.

I mused out loud during M. Ward‘s dense and gorgeously-rocking set that I seem to forget how much I adore his music. This was the first time I had seen him live solo (once with She in SF), and I decided during his set that a) Post-War is probably on my list of top ten albums from this decade that I will continue to listen to for years and years to come and b) his catalog really expands and becomes much more raggedly rocking in concert, in a very very good way. I was also transfixed by his anachronistic peculiarness, which reminded me of a traveling salesman+blues musician from the 1930s or something, one that truly knows his way with a guitar. He’s so interesting to watch, and completely his own.

Dainon says: There’s a weird energy that accompanies Of Montreal and its stage show, though it never fails to puzzle me. I can’t make sense of what’s going on, though I try so earnestly to do so, every single damn time even. Still, if you can manage to get past the tiger-headed humans, the half-naked men, the munching on genitalia, the leotards, the sparkling blue eye makeup and the feather boas, well then, Of Montreal treats you right. They’ve a show to go with their story to go with their music. As in they’ve got groove in their respective hearts. Is it Prince light, as goes the rampant accusation? Maybe. One thing’s for certain … the band’s avid followers will make the floor shake every single time, even if it is made of heavy rock. Boogie yer two shoes, indeed.

All my pics –and more commentary– are over on Facebook, if you’d like to see the rest of what we did and how we barely survived (spoiler: Dainon had a run-in with a drag queen, I got my lip caught in a can while shotgunning a beer). It was a long, pretty rad weekend:

Opening Night & Saturday
Sunday

And here’s a few more, just because there was so much to see. Next year, you should come.

CHROMEO (video: “Tenderoni“)

DEER TICK

GIRL TALK

PHOENIX
(what album cover does that remind me of?!?)

YEAH YEAH YEAHS