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.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
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.
Thursday, December 6, 2007
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?
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?
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
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
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
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