Full disclosure: I had ambitions to write more about the August 17 My Morning Jacket show in Chicago. I felt like I had 1500 words in me on the show and the experience. Generally, I like the opportunity that the blog affords me to (in the words of Cousin Marty) organize the experience through writing. Then I sat down to bang this one out.
The show stands burning in my brain as a perfect event, almost too pristine to capture with something as ephemeral as an "internet blog post." I saw one of the best bands in the world play an amazing set in a tremendous venue with two of my best friends in life. I've got my memories of the experience locked down. To a degree, I'm too selfish to share them. It was a beautiful night. If you were there, you know. If you weren't, you're not going to wrap your brain around it from my 1500 words.
Know these three things: 1) The coda to the first set (Smokin' from Shootin'>Run Thru>Touch Me Part Two>Lay Low) is probably the best thing I will ever see on a stage, 2) if Jim and the boys are within a ten hour radius of your house and you don't go, you're a sucker (I drove six hours; it was worth every ounce of gasoline), and 3) I'll be telling my kid about seeing MMJ live; he will be jealous that he was only six months old when I was in Chicago.
In related news, the next My Morning Jacket record is going to be really good. "Circuital" is the truth.
My Morning Jacket – Circuital, Live
On the new music front, I've got one that I've been sitting on for too long. Efren's second record, Always Been a Bleeder dropped on my birthday and I've been grooving to the semi-muted, tightly-arranged, half-psych-folk of the five songs thereon since. I like the vocals and I like the feel, the distinctly southern texture of the record. Dudes are from Georgia; the record is composed of songs that sound like they were written deep in Yoknapatawpha County (Faulkner is Georgian, right?). Of particular note is the stellar closer, the nine minute epic dirge "Rapids." It's almost like Cotton Jones, but with a set of brass balls. Good stuff all around.
One more newbie in the batch today. I got an email from Father/Daughter Records with this track from Brooklyn's Family Trees. I listened to it once and then dropped eleven bucks on the seven inch. I bought it for two reasons: 1) It is a great song, a little nugget of doo-wop nostalgia pumped through Malkmus's lo-fi machine with the mildest possible inde-sneer, and 2) I'm 85% certain that Family Trees are the next R.E.M. If that turns out to be the case, I am putting my kid through college with this seven inch single. There are only 400. I'm considering buying the whole run to create demand in the market eighteen years from now.
Last up is video of the best song of the year. Holy shit. I love this record. Suckers are opening for Menomena at the Beachland on September 27. Since I've got Wild Smile and Mines as 1 and 1a on my list of favorite records of the year, it's safe to say that I'm pretty stoked.
Lastly, you might be hearing less of me in this space over the next several months. Fall semester starts on Monday and I'm teaching two classes and writing a dissertation. Ye olde spare time is about to take a hit. I'll be around, popping my head out of my doctorate hole from time to time. But. There will be Saturdays when you're on your own. You'll tough it out.
