I Appreciate Gay Mashed Up Puppies

Sitting in the librarium, listening to mash-ups and NOT studying.
Here's a couple pictures for my thoughts - Sad puppies, and The Gay Blades are one of two incredible unsigned bands at the moments, the other one being The Appreciation Post.

Too Soon? Too Soon?

Saw Gwar tonight.

So here's the thing - I don't really listen to Gwar. I've done my preliminary research, but I didn't spend most of the show up front and collecting a rainbow of dye on my white t-shirt. I watched safely from the balcony. My jaw was loose; I think my mouth was agape for the entire hour and a half. I watched the metal mayhem (with a bit of grit punk) for what it was, and that was ridiculous. How anyone can listen to Gwar for more than ten minutes is beyond me, but I can easily see how they gather such fanatical tour stops. It was like a fucking tie-dye party!

Among the decapitations, giant strap-on cock and balls, rape and governmental cracks, and minion slaves wearing thongs, Gwar struck a giant sword through a T-rex, killed Don Vito and Little Man from Viva La Bam, Bush, Osama, Hitler, and zombie dude they referred to as Casey Calvert from Hawthorne Heights (Too soon? Probably considering it was at the same venue - 930 Club in DC - but it's Gwar and no one actually takes them seriously). And as for the last defiant note of theatrical shock rock, the "singer" hollered "Fuck the police! Fuck the government! You are OK! Gwar is OK!" and something else about world domination. I might've been watching the satanic Tony awards. GG Allin knew what stage he was shitting on, but Gwar's not looking for jail time. Their set was so over-the-top, so overdone, and so overly conscious of what it was trying to do that there is no way that I cannot appreciate and be entertained. It's amusing.

If you want fucked up shit, watch these. Or read Drugs Are Nice, and even that seems relatively calm compared to the oral history of GG Allin. That guy is a fucked up motherfucker, and that's why I find him exhilarating to learn about. Lisa Suck Dog was fucked up too. Her whole fictionalized zine life was like one huge acid trip. How do these people think?

Bastardized rock history is actually PG-rated. VH1 quivers in their boot knees at footage like this, but it's the only way to understand how real underground music exists - sometimes even in current manifests. You have to watch the full spectrum, all extremes, to grasp the griminess, which is really what rock is. GG Allin, well, he's just in his own category, but the derivatives are still deserving.

Heroin seemed like a glamorous, nearly right wing way to die, GG. I almost wish you had killed yourself on stage one of those Halloweens. That, however, I don't wish to see on YouTube.





Now I need to know if Lordi takes themselves seriously. Maybe it's like a Kiss situation? Entirely theatrical but entirely too genuine of an effort?

Cool Story, Jeopardy Teen!

Let me wrap these thoughts into a readable package.

Prefacing ... My roommate and I have an incredible love for The Graduate. Obsession is a more accurate descriptor, actually. I stand by these convictions: they are one of the best new bands of 2007, and their full-length Anhedonia is in the top ten of the year EASILY. And I've been blessed with their friendship; these dudes are great great people, and anytime they come through Baltimore, the fun records itself in the history books.

And now I will try to collect all the happenings from Tuesday night's festivities. I do this because it was epic, and by epic I mean it was more fun than I've ever mustered at a show and after party. Yesterday was the Baltimore stop on the Spitalfield farewell tour (at Ottobar, of course) with The Grads, The Forecast and Attention. The Grads were supposed to come in really early Tuesday morning after their CT show and catch some Z's, but the weather was a bit testy. Instead, they picked me up from the apartment - I didn't want to drive 'cause I knew the night was going to be a drunk fest - strolled over to campus so we could kidnap Jac from her Stats class, and headed to Walmart for tour necessities (Corey needed a knife so he could whittle some wood, among other things). Daniel, their new GPS, took us to the Ottobar, but not before Jac and I invested new treatment for "Anhedonia" into their brains (Puppies, killing puppies, and then killer puppies?? Please, oh please let this become a reality).

Killing time before the doors opened, Jac and I chilled around, chatted around, and then gave Spitalfield our love poster collage creation to let them know how much we appreciate their music, past and present. Handing it over, we ranted things like "Oh my god, we feel really really lame right now" and "We've never done this before." But I think they appreciated it. I enjoy showing and proving how much I appreciate music, and I especially enjoy making someone's day a bit brighter. It's little things like this that give faith to human nature, and we should all do more of it. That and use less paper products. We also decorated the Grad's van with snowmen decal, red ballons and green streamers as a Max birthday/Christmas surprise. It was pretty damn cute.

The show started, Jac and I began drinking - we rarely go out anymore; school and work has been the death of our social graces so this was our time to live free - and our wonderful friends start to roll in like pleasant peas. The Graduate played a brutal set, but Ottobar has always magnified their excellence. Lullo and I chilled upstairs (2 for Tuesdays! Killer!) for a couple drinks to catch up before he took the stage with Spitalfield (he's filling in on guitar for this tour), and by this point, Rolling Rock pulsed through my veins in high voltage. By the time Spitalfield took the stage, nothing could bring me down. And nothing did. Jac and I even did the annoying drunk thing and screamed nonsense like "Don't break up!!" and "Reconsider!!"

After the show, the plan was to go to The Grad's favorite bar in Fells Point, Friends, to rightfully celebrate Max's 21st (which was really a couple date previous), but the rest of the bands were already wasted and gravitating towards upstairs (2 for Tuesdays! Undeniable!). We convinced Wegs and Jared, the token underagers, to try their skills at getting upstairs. BEST DECISION EVER. BEST BAR NIGHT EVER. THAT'S ALL THAT NEEDS TO BE SAID.

Turns out the guys in Spitalfield are as enthusiastic as T Bell as Jac and I, so there was a major campaign to get a fourth meal at the only TB in B-more open past two (apparently, they even called the store - and I thought WE were obsessed). So after last call, we all piled into the van (including Shannon from The Forecast ... love that girl) and headed off the the holy land (or holy drive-thru). But, of course, being the attention-lacked individual I am, I insisted we jump in and jump out of Spitalfield's van while we waited for our 20 soft tacos. And yes, I'm easily amused.

We finally got home around four in the morn (I have no clue where those two hours went, and I'm still trying to piece it all together), but this is where our night comes to an capitalized end. Jac and I had planned an entire Christmas/birthday celebration with gifts under the tree, and being that we were all drunk and high on life, it was received with a high level of excitement. Who knew that Jared actually loves Star Wars? I guess that light saber was an appropriate pick.

2 C BA FO?

Now I'm onto the next day, and it's been rough. But it's also been comforting to reflect. There are nights that you'll never forget but then you do, or at least parts of them. And then there are nights that you couldn't forget and not because you made an embarrassment of yourself. Because you were having so much fun there was nothing fogging the mind, nothing to strike a sentence as awkward, and nothing that made you in the least bit upset. It was one of those nights.

I suppose the reason why I write all of this is because I never thought I would get to this point. I've been circulating myself and jamming around this sort of music since before I could legally steer a wheel, and I always dreamed of what it would be like to enjoy the company of the band's I actually listened to. It seemed odd, an off-set irregularity that required me trying too hard and feeling really awkward about it. Awkwardness is my ultimate folding point. And I almost pat myself on the back for leaving the day-dreamin' high schooler behind because I'm finally at a stage where I don't scrutinize my own voice. I've always been very opinionated, and I've always had a knack for speed humps like public speaking, but I've always been very anxious. Knots twist in my stomachs like dangerous vines. I'm leaving these knots, and recognizing this release has been the biggest learning experience Baltimore awarded me.

My mom always told me that you never stop discovering yourself, and that even when you think you've got it ALL figured out, a curveball comes hurdling your way, throwing your comfortable assumptions into the lions den. I think I've battled the lions for now; I'm just waiting on the shark pit.

I want to be on tour. I will be on tour.

Today was the first major snow. I'd say four inches? Even though my feet were snow magnets, it was quite pretty. I NEED BOOTS.

Tomorrow Katherine and I are seeing GWAR. You DID read that correctly.



On Friday, Jac and I might head up to the NJ show. Matt left his SK here and someone else left their sleeping bag. And we miss them already, so I figure if the weather isn't so bad, seeing them one more time before who knows when is a good call. They are taking January off to write (and maybe visit Baltimore in between; let us cross fingers). It could be half a year before we see them again. I don't believe in tragedies. The Eyeball offices are 20 minutes away from the NJ venue - James and I have been throwing around plans for a Demo day invasion (basically, we get to listen to all the demos they get in and make fun of really bad bands), and the situation seems all too perfect. Let's hope for good circumstances. And boots, 'cause I really need them.

"The City That Reads"

Baltimore is quiet and cold
There's no ship in the bay to take me back home
In time for the holiday
So December never ends
You come here instead
I've got gifts and food and friends
Plenty of room in my bed
Oh, you can help me mend

So here's to being alone
To anyone on their own
If anyone's listening
Think of me when I'm gone
It's not going to hurt for long
And you can just forget
And I can live without regret

Baltimore is quiet and cold
So I walk down to the bay
Where everyone's gone inside for the holiday
Oh, December never ends
So will you make up your mind
Over time I've found a piece of me
Somewhere on these empty streets
That I could never bring myself to leave

So here's to being alone
To anyone on their own
If anyone's listening
Think of me when I'm gone
It's not going to hurt for long
And you can just forget

When I return to you at last
Surprise me in red and black
Oh no, you never ever give in
Never give in
When you smile there's a certain line
Of muscles strained from front to back
So I'll do anything to get me right back home

So here's to being alone
To anyone on their own
If anyone's listening
Think of me when I'm gone
It's not going to hurt for long

So here's to being alone
To anyone on their own
If anyone's listening
Think of me when I'm gone
It's not going to hurt for long
And you can just forget
And I can live without regret

GWAR ... GWARRAWRRARRR

I am unsure if living in my Internet dream world is as satisfying as a real dream world. But maybe the two aren't really that different anyway?

I learned a few things that weekend. One - I have to keep my game top-notch. Two - Jeff Hurn's Revel is actually awesome, and not like a B-rated Taxlo. Three - Amanda Lynn is an incredible person. I have so much respect for her; I wish her the best in everything she does.

Katherine and I are going to see GWAR at 930 Club on December 6th. I just bought tickets. Do you understand the severity of this situation?? Because, according to my list of life goal, this is pretty up there. Now I just have to see Lordi, and I'll have mainstream shockrock in my back pocket.

I update my AP Blog way more than this one, but I am going to try to keep this gem up and running as much as possible.

Act tough, think big. Believe in monstrosities.

Practice Breathing

My body is exhausted. My mind is too. I woke up as the morning sky was still kneading its sleepy eyes and drifted off to work. There I drank about five cups of iced coffee and three cups of iced black teas. I couldn't tell if I was thirsty or tired or sipping to give me something to do other than ponder. See, I get in these ruts where I think too much. I clam up like sweaty palms and crave pills. I stay awake until I can't stay awake any longer so I won't have to sit in the dark and be along with my thoughts. THAT scares the shit out of me when I'm wallowing in these gutter moods, and all I can do it wait for the tide to change on its own accord.

Instead of a gradual orbital switch, my email hit me with a brutal wave to the face. When I got home from work, hyped like an overhype, I realized that I had to conduct a phone interview with Chris Carrabba within the next two hours. Because my stomach wasn't already knotted and tense enough. Because higher forces could probably sense that only something that would force me out of my rut would force me out of my rut. And it did. The interview kept getting pushed earlier, and I kept pacing the space between my bed and my dresser, lips pursed. Interviews don't really make me nervous anymore, not like they used to. Interviews with men like Chris Carrabba, arguably one of the most important musicians to nestle into my CD case, do make me nervous.

But he was really nice.
And he was very well-spoken, articulate and ... I don't know ... soft?
And he said some really neat things that I can't wait to get up for the Internet world to buzz about.

I think this album is going to be similar to AMAMABAS. More organic, maybe? Keep watch for the 'view. "Thick as Thieves," "Little Bombs," and "Keep Watch For Mines" are all killer teasers, and I've been replaying them like I used to with those old Places and Swiss Army tracks of my youth. The Shade of Poison Trees is going to dominate Dusk and Summer, and I have never been so relieved. Maybe Chris can help me work on this rut too.

Say Anything, The Tornado

My 2007 could come tornado-ing into an unmatched and encompassing climatic point with the new Say Anything album. The new song I've heard hasn't struck me yet, but this doesn't bother or phase me. I am intrigued. My mind is at ease like a calm before a storm, and I am just waiting to get swept into its whirling winds. I hold the highest expectations for Bemis and crew because they have blown my mind lyrically and hook-wise more than any other band. A double-disc, hour and a half epic brain buster like the new album is a feat for the ages, but if there is one band that can do it, it would be Say Anything (and not The Early November). This might be the highlight of my year, for serious. Never has looming disappointment struck with such fear.

Poptarts and Sex

On Beat # 3: Hell hath no fury like the Copyright Royalty Board
On Beat # 2: Jammin with boredom
On Beat # 1: Pirates own streets, musicians lose beats

Hot stuff, huh? The tides are changing, my friend. They are crashing upon the millions of particles of sand opportunities that inhabit this earth and the little satchel I bring with me to the beach is filling itself up with grains and treasure trinkets. I will be watching the waves as they crash and retract with a careful but eager eye.

12,005 Feet (or 2.3 Miles) Above Sea Level

Stand on top of a mountain and gain a new perspective, or at least a more clear, defined one - not just a jumble of thoughts and misgivings.

The family and I are in Colorado for a few days, driving through the Rockies, visiting old childhood hotspots (like my preschool), and meeting my parents’ old college friends. I was born in Boulder, which lies right along the base of the mountains. It’s a beautiful beautiful place, and it’s even more significant when you wash away the sea level troubles, breathe the thin air, and take it all for what it’s worth. And it’s worth a lot. I’ll make sure to get pictures up soon. But this vacation – disregarding how bored I was last night at the dinner party – is a nice journey. I’m even getting work done. I know, I know, I’m supposed to be relaxing. But I can’t work when my head is a melting pot of mixed anxieties, and there is nothing better to detox the brain than a cross-country trip above the tree-line.

My ears are popping like popcorn. Cigarettes are harder to smoke because the air is like wispy wafers. It’s 91 degrees with no humidity, and there are small patches of snow sprinkling the peaks. Apparently, there was more snow when we used to live here (I moved when I was five), but global warming has left the frozen tundra a pathetic spotted attempt.

If you could only see what I’m seeing.

Okkervil River, The Stage Names is a scenic gem. “John Allyn Smith Sails” is a lyrical heart spasm and insightful with a cup of dark roast. It might me ”Unless It’s Kicks” and “A Hand To Take Hold Of The Scene” that really does me in. Oh, The Story’s album is sounding better than I thought it would be, but I’m thinking that had a lot to do with Paul Leavitt and all those shiny knobs. But don’t they say that a band is only as good as their producer? And I’ve been listening to Matt Pond PA in gluttonous amounts, especially Emblems. His new album drops in the fall (October, I think). And if all goes well, I hope to top-ten it.

I was young and at home in bed
And I was hanging on the words some poem said
And thirty-one
I was impressionable
I was upsettable

There's some cool stuff on Pitchfork right now. I know, I know - Pitchfork gives you nasty, belittling glares as you walk up it's scruff indie coffee shop counter, but where else can you read an interview with Iggy Pop and Patton Oswalt on the same website.

And everyone should give The Appreciation Post a run-through. Their Brighter Sides EP is a fruitful goodness of synth and dark guitar pop. I’m hoping to get two b-sides up on AP as an Unsigned Showcase soon.

Oh, the wireless sucks here, by the way. Oh wait, two bars! How extravagant!

Warning! This Blog May Contain Namedrops!

This album cover is my new tattoo. Not sure how the fuck it'll look, but getting Bob Nanna Is Nearly God!! etched into my lower back crossed a major lurker line. For realz. So this will do and swimmingly.

Self City Monster - better known as Self Against City - shacked it up in the apartment for a couple nights this week. In the here's-my-couch-you-can-sleep-on-it way, of course, because I don't do those things (well, try not to do those things) to people in bands. My reputation won't ever have room for that sort of talk after my review-bashing. ANYWAY, it was awesome. After Sunday's night show at Fletcher's, those sunny CA dudes came back to the apartment, sat on our couch, and fully proved that - as offbeat as this sounds to me - there are other bands almost as fun to hang out with as The Graduate. And I suppose the apartment was thrilling enough to warrant a callback because last night, en route to Atlantic City's HOB's, the dudes stopped by for night cap number two. Booze and weed and N64 ensued, and I can only hope that Jacqueline won't be off vacationing next time. She could totally whip their asses in 007.

But the reason why I tell you all this is for a couple reasons. One reason - Providing couch/floor space and extraneous pillows for touring bands is a startup hobby of mine. It gives our apartment character and flavor and random insights into what it's really like to be on the road and in a rock band. From what I've gathered, it awesomely sucks. Meaning that it sucks in the awesome way. Meaning that even the things that suck are sort of awesome. Meaning that only a minute part of touring that actually sucks and everything else is just a roundabout awesome. Hence my excitement for Warped Tour this year. Another reason - I spent most of the time in my apartment pondering my friendships and values to other people over the past. This is no fun. What better way to pass the mullings by with a band and some sushi with London. I am thrilled that Jac is back in the apartment. Now two people live here - not just one with huge ideas.

Someone typed something somewhere that is going to change the course of my life from this point on.

It Means Flower, Right?

Watching Spanglish. I don't really want to watch Spanglish, but there isn't much else on and boredom is absolutely seeping through my skull. I'd prefer to watch Harry Potter over and over again, but I need to hold out until the seventh book. I am being unrealistic, dreaming and such. He's a wizard and I'm not even a Muggle, but apparently, The Chosen One has no problem taking advantage of groupies. Yeah, I'm OK with that. And apparently, I'm OK with a lot of other things, but those kinds of things stay wrapped up in my mind like one of the multi-steps Russian dolls.

Watch the first (and only) season of Undeclared. There is no faith in the world if a show as glorious and accurately depicting (in relative terms, that is) as Undeclared goes off the air. Ridiculous, really, and I'm almost shocked with the current state of our country (well, I am shocked, but that's for other reasons) for this reason. Same goes with Veronica Mars. And it's even more ridiculous that trying to stream them online is about as testy as my mother. The world is a very upsetting place and riddled with disappointment.

So now that I'm bored and everything, I figured now would be a opportune time to update this damn thing. I really love here, you comfy blog you, but I suck at it. Almost as much as I suck answering my phone. Tips to get in contact with Julia: Tell me I'm being an asshole, because I always ignore phone calls. I'm lazy. I don't want to be lazy, but I am. But now, as I spiff up the blog before I scrape some resin together, I'll be throwing lots of random stuff your way. See, I have two ways of writing. One - deliberate, like a review. This kind takes me forever because I always think too hard. Or I'm too stoned to formulate reasonable (and wholly comprehensible) opinions. And Two - random streams of thought that never actually make sense to me but feel great during. The best comparison would be a one night stand except that you don't try to convince yourself in the morning.

But! While we are on the topic of writing, I heard the new Motion City Soundtrack album (Even If It Kills Me) @ the Stunt Company offices last weekend. It wasn't as killer and I'd hope, but if any current rock and pop band knows how to makes good rock and pop, it's certainly Justin Pierre and crew. I rehashed Commit This To Memory before and after my sampling, and that made me realize how much I liked that album - CTTM, that is. Especially the production from Mark Hoppus. He must have more to do than prance around naked with pornstars, but I digress... Whatever. It'll sell fine. Probably not as good as if they were trapped inside a bubble but hey, at least they're not getting rained on. ANYWAY, "Hello Helicopter," Where I Belong," and "Point of Extinction" were my favorites, and as the album progressed, I warmed up to Pierre's smart, sassy and (sort of) sexy self. Alliteration is awesome.

But if you are going to be read a review today, read my review for Down To Earth Approach's Come Back To You. But don't actually read the review. Go straight to the score and cast your judgment. Or you can read the first couple sentences, see the word "emolism" and spit out some rhetorical nonsense dripping with your own personal dictionary definition of the word. Because, you know, it's not MY review or anything. Please, tracks your dirty soles all over my careless writing. I just use words at random, and I have no clue what they mean! Or I use words that have no journalistic value - like boring. Oh! You disagree with me!? Oh! Shall I try to start a discussion with your pompous flight or should I stand my ground because I know that my opinion is my opinion and that's how it works. Motherfucker. Sometimes it makes me so mad. And then sometimes I know that being the only reviewer that's also a chick makes it easy to write me off as another mindless babbler. I babble...yes. But I babble because I care!

No, really, I've paid my fucking dues. I know how to write a review, and I like being honest in them. Steve was right. If I sell out my opinion, it's not worth anything anymore. And then I might as well take up that promotion at the Bux.

I'm sorry, I'm ranting. I'm not stoned, for the record. And this movie is better than I thought it would be.

Can I Be Spunky Too?

12:45:00 AM liveandletdie415: well ill start calling you...
12:45:43 AM bestshotdespite: now this should be good :)
12:45:58 AM liveandletdie415: so i go to urban dictionary
12:46:47 AM liveandletdie415: and a connie is a gentle way of saying vagina. a condom in the UK. a term to talk about cocaine like mary jane for pot. and a large breasted fat guy with awesome glasses and a hot mom.
12:47:00 AM liveandletdie415: and im not gonna call you any of those.
12:47:11 AM bestshotdespite: ahhahahahahahhahahahahhahaha
12:47:18 AM bestshotdespite: oh thats going in the blog, my friend
12:47:36 AM liveandletdie415: Julia - a name for girls. Most julia's are artistic, smart, romantic, beautiful and also very charming. Julia's can get whatever they want if they try. They can be very sexy so watch out! They are romantics and love old movies, art and books. they love old stuff! They usually aren't very athletic but if a julia is athletic she's kick butt! they have great fashion sense and usually look smokin'. A julia will most likely become a mother because they love kids. They are very successful in life and there is just something about them that draws people in. Also they are ah-mazing dancers!

Brand New (sigh)

Last night, Nathan Lint and I had an AIM conversation that could only be described as epic (in e-terms). It at least lasted for an hour and I learned that 1) he likes Deja Entendu probably just as much as me and 2) Deja Entendu means just as much to him as it does to me. The only person that can equate to this sort of passion and obsession would be Roommate (of course), and even then I don't think she would ever get a lyric tattooed on her body. But Lint wants a Brand New tattoo like me, and for that reason, I'm thinking it might not be such a bad idea. I've spent hours and hours thinking about what new sketch will be forever inked into my skin and Brand New had always been the frontrunner. I've just never had the balls, or the tough skin, to endure the possibility of looking lame. Pulling off a song lyric is almost as difficult as pulling off any band formed after the early 90's.

Right now, I'm watching Seinfeld, wishing I could talk to Coran, and getting all excited about Warped Tour. Roommate and I will chase speeding cars (like kings) for three dates this year (in this order) - Virginia Beach, Baltimore, and Scranton. I guess you could call this our first real touring experience. Which it is. Which is why I am so excited. Which is another reason why I will sweat until I have a solid and satisfying career in the music industry. If I've learned anything about myself, it's that I don't so well with things that I don't want to do. Perhaps this is why Roommate and I met with Chris and Emily tonight. New projects are very much on the horizon; now if we could only come up with a name.

I'm not saying I could ever leave anything behind. I am a girl who believe in memories and rehashing them fondly, but I do know that time expires along with other things. Maybe I sound like a middle-aged working women, but what I'm doing now is only a small fraction of what I will be doing later in life. I'm OK with moving on. It's something I've been working on as of late, and I think I'm getting a lot better at it.

Listen to Mobile.

Weatherboxes, Mountains and Rivers

I'm typing up this Weatherbox interview, and I think Brian may have been stoned when he wrote it. I'd really love to see this band. And I just finished a review for Blue Skies For Black Hearts (Love Is Not Enough). It's comfortably one of the best albums I've heard this year. Anhedonia is still there, but that's also because roommate and I caught the Grads as they were passing through Baltimore. And I still haven't tried Resurrection.

I feel changes coming around the next corner, and I'm excited to see where this will all lead. And it's pretty scary thinking that I'm a grown-up with grown-up ideas - like a random-ish road trip to Cincinnati.

Look the mix below and collect it. I'm listening to it right now and it's a winner.

Lots and Lots of Dead Bodies

I whipped up a new mix. And this afternoon I saw Bodies: The Exhibition. It's easily one of the neater and more intersting things I've browsed in a cold dark gallery. And one of the select times when I've actually read all the display supplements. Big deal, guys.

I can never make up my mind about concept albums. I've liked tracks from a concept album, and I've loved tracks from a concept album, but I've never loved a concept album. Of all my top favorites, I just don't think there's been any room for obscure ideas and sleeves as maps. When a band gets it in their pretty heads to conjure up a connection between jellyfish and the underworkings of fatherly love, I rarely follow. Or barely hold on. And when I make my self-satisfying mixed CD's, it's even harder to include a song from a concept album. I'm either going to give you less for your download or complicate myself trying to choose just one. Everyone knows that a mixed cd is more a less a representation of the best of an album, ep or live recording. A concept album is just too much pressue, and making a good mixed CD is pressure enough.

Please judge me now.

Dirty Pretty Things - Wondering (Tavern Version) - Bang Bang You're Dead
Matt Pond PA - If You Want Blood - If You Want Blood EP
Arctic Monkeys - Flourecent Adolecent - Your Favourite Worst Nightmare
The Dear Hunter - Smiling Swine - Act II: The Meaning Of, And All Things Regarding Ms. Leading
Piebald - Put Your Slippers On Instead - All Ears, All Eyes, All The Time
My American Heart - Speak Low If You Speak Love - Hiding Inside the Horrible Weather
The Jealous Sound - Quiet Life - The Jealous Sound EP
The Graduate - Justified - Horror Show EP
The Honorary Title - Apologize - Scream And Light Up The Sky
Ted Leo - Six Months In A Leaky Boat - Tell Balgeary, Balgury Is Dead
Cold War Kids - Tell Me In The Morning - Robbers And Cowards
Everybody Else - I Gotta Run - Everybody Else
Weatherbox - The Drugs - American Art
Call It Arson - Eliza - The Animal Strings Album
Modest Mouse - Florida - We Were Dead Before The Ship Even Sank
Styrofoam - Couches In Alleys (feat. Ben Gibbard) - Nothing's Lost
Styrofoam - Front to Back (feat. Andrew Kenny) - Nothing's Lost
Jenoah - Southern Breathing Dreams - demos
Adelphi - Sir-Chops-A-Lot - demos
Mates of State - So Many Ways - Bring It Back
Jimmy Eat World - A Sunday - Modified Arts Show 12.27.01
Bright Eyes - Sunrise, Sunset - Fevers & Mirrors
Laymen Terms - Mrs. Allyson - Drive to Nowhere: Verity's Novel
A Radio With Guts - Another Night in the House of Suicide - Beat Heart Sweet Stereo

You're A Spunky Girl

Lady Radiator, Youth Group, The Channels, and "The D in Detriot" by The Anniversary.

Roommate and I are watching Running With Scissors, but I never finished the book. Today is a mind-numbing day - but in a good way. A result of a strange turning of events. Oh, last night. I don't quite know how to process you.

RANDOM -
I used to drive my mom's minivan, a cardinal red box that shook with archaic charm - especially if you pushed it over 80. I loved that hunk of chug and metal and not just because it provided a big backseat and plenty of seatbelts for my friends. I loved that minivan because, from 16 and on, it was more than a vehicle of transportation. It was holy chariot of booming tunes and hopeful lyricism. Everything seemed a bit more significant, a bit more poignant, and a whole lot more romantic behind the dashboard. In that minivan, I heard Deja Entendu for the first and breathless time. In that minivan, the symbols crashed and the bass thunked in grain with the wheels along weathered blacktop. All in that car, in that bubble, in that stereo of sound, I created a world of understanding, appreciation and respect for music that would stick with me from state line to new city, old city to new room, and lastly, new car.