Tag Archive: Lazy Saturday


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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.

Efren – Stay High

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. 

Family Trees – Dream Talkin'

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.

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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.

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We've written about AIDS Wolf before.  They're noisy and messy and dissonant and aggressive.  They have a new record out on Skin Graft, March to the Sea.  I'd hesitate to call "Teaching to Suffer" the lead single, in that it's two and a half minutes of the sonic equivalent of a cock fight, but it is awesome for it's energy and raw chutzpah.  I've argued before that AIDS Wolf works like deep trance music, to a degree, lulling the listener into a realization of patterns and concordance that aren't immediately apparent (maybe lulling is the wrong verb, but you get the gist).  AIDS Wolf is a three piece now and I think there's a certain economy to the new stuff, a slightly sleeker assault, if you will.  In any event, AIDS Wolf is the kind of band that warrants support.  They're cutting records and not giving a shit about your opinions of them (I think).  Skin Graft is advertising a US tour starting in September, but I can't find any dates yet.  If they come to Cleveland, I will get very excited.  This has to be amazing live.

AIDS Wolf – Teaching to Suffer

Eternal Summers is completely different from AIDS Wolf (it's a highly disparate Lazy Saturday).  Jaunty, slightly dirty, hooky, catchy pop rock.  It's like Lush crossed with Crocodiles minus one quarter of the distortion.  Good luck getting this one out of your head.  "Pogo" comes from the duo's debut, Silver, which you can grab in mid September.  If the rest of the record is as infectious as this quick hitter of bleached bliss, we're in for a treat.

Eternal Summers – Pogo

I'm posting two Furthur tracks today for four reasons:

1.) "Seven Hills of Gold" and "Muli Guli" feature lyrics from Robert Hunter.  It's been a while since Lesh and Weir smashed their jams to Hunter's words, so it's noteworthy.

2.) These songs are good.  If you didn't already know better, you'd think that they were recently uncovered late 70s gems, not new material.

3.) This is the only time in the history of the universe that AIDS Wolf and Furthur will share webspace.  That kind of synergy is exciting.

4.) It always pisses of Diamond Jim when I post stuff related to the Dead.  I like poking him.

Furthur – Seven Hills of Gold – Live, 2010

Furthur – Muli Guli – Live, 2010

We leave for Chicago on Monday.  The Cubs, the Chicago Vegetarian Diner, and (most critically) My Morning Jacket.  Let's get real for a minute: I just want to hear "Run Thru" live again.  They could play this 15 times in a row and I'd leave happy.  Full report on the show next weekend.  Enjoy.

My Morning Jacket – Run Thru – Live, 2008

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Sometimes, I frustrate Kevin.  He's something of a completist and I tend to dabble.  To be more specific, Kevin's a specialist and I'm a generalist.  One of our first musical arguments revolved around The White Stripes.  I own two White Stripes records (White Blood Cells and Elephant).  To be even more pointed, I've really only ever listened to those two White Stripes records.  I know all that I need to know about that band from those thirty songs.  I'm good.  (Aside: Let's face it: Jack White knows one trick.  He knows it really well, but that's kind of besides the point, right?)  Kevin, on the other hand, owns (and, again more pointedly, loves) every record The White Stripes have ever made.  He's got non-album singles and European out takes and alternate versions of b-sides and shit.  Kevin wants to know all there is to know about The White Stripes.  I'm happy with the broad view; he isn't done until he has the deepest view possible. 

This extends to other parts of our musical lives.  I'm always looking for exclusionary criteria for new music.  (I can't get a clear answer, for instance, on how to pronounce "Yeasayer," so I'm totally out on them.  It might be the best thing ever.  I don't care.  Change your name to something that has a clear connection between orthography and phonology and I might be interested.)  I don't want to hear everything, because I know that I'll dislike much of it.  I'd rather go with a finer net and miss a few things.  Kevin wants to hear everything.  He'll sit through ten records he hates to get to one he loves.  I'm more efficient, but he's more comprehensive.  I'm not sure if there's a right or wrong approach to this kind of thing, but we certainly differ.

All this to say that I rarely go back to the back catalog for bands that I come to the party late on.  For instance: I hipped to Wilco on Being There.  I do not own A.M.  Not super interested.  I love Being There.  Why do I have to get down with what came before it?  Same thing for me and Grizzly Bear.  I do not care about Yellow House at all.  People say it's better than Veckatimest.  Whatever.  (There are obvious exceptions here, but they don't work towards the point I'm making, so I am going to ignore them.)  It's different for bands that I catch at the beginning.  I'll buy every new Megafaun record as long as they put them out, because I started my musical relationship with them when they started their musical relationship with the world.

But.

That Menomena record is really good.  How good?  So good that I've been singing the hook from "Dirty Cartoons" over and over in my head for the last week.  ("I'd like to…go home, go home.")  So good that I went back and spent American currency on Friend and Foe.  That's the world's longest introduction for two live tracks, but such is life.  These come from the record before Mines.  Get off your ass and buy them both.

Menomena – The Pelican – Live, 2007

Menomean – Evil Bee – Live, 2007

In other news, we're nearing the end of the countdown to the C.D. Unofficial Semi-Annual Windy City Invasion, wherein the C.D. Attache to the Lake County Embassy, the Acting C.D. Chicagoland Adviser and I will be attending both a Cubs game and a My Morning Jacket show.  Can somebody get confirmation that Jim James is singing at Wrigley on August 16?  (Editor's note:  Is it ironic that in the same post that I semi-ragged on Kevin for listening to everything that I posted something from Chocolate and Ice?  I think it is.  It might also be hypocritical.  Your call.)

My Morning Jacket – Sooner – Live, 2003

Lazy Saturday*

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*I banged out that Blitzen Trapper review today, my baby is sleeping and I want to get a Lazy Saturday into the ether just to keep my Cal-Ripken-esque streak of Lazy Saturdays going.  As a result, there is neiither clever wordplay in the title nor broad observations about life and art.  Just two songs and a brief word of commentary on each.  Sorry.  I'm getting close to the blogosphere record for consecutive weekend posts.  Can't slip up now.

First track today comes from David Letterman's television program.  The year is 1983.  Michael Stipe still has a shit ton of hair.  It's worth tracking down the visuals on this thing so you can really wrap your brain around the earnestness with which Stipe stares at his microphone and the verve that Mills pours into his bass.  Good times. 

R.E.M. – Radio Free Europe – Live, 1983

Second up today is one of the more palatable tracks from Evil Urges.  We're a mere 17 days away from the semi-official C.D. Chicagoland My Morning Jacket Extravanganza.  I'm getting stoked.

My Morning Jacket – I'm Amazed – Live, 2008

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(Editor's Note: You're reading this on July 24th, but I'm writing it on July 17th.  I'm out of town all week; kind of a no phones, no lights, no motor cars kind of thing.  I didn't want to leave you in the lurch today, so I'm writing ahead of time.  If something crazy happened in the last seven days, like Mel Gibson converted to Judaism or whatever, I won't be touching on that today, given my lack of a device for reliably seeing the future.  For reals.)

It's hard to overstate how much I love Violent Femmes.  Their self-titled debut came out in 1982, well before I had anything like autonomous muscial consciousness (I was four).  The cassette tape (as far as I can guesstimate) came into my possession in or around the summer/fall of 1994.  I don't remember the circumstances involved that led me to buy the tape, but I do remember listening to that cassette over and over and over when I started to drive.  (I've written it before, but it bears repeating; for the first five or so years that I drove, I drove a 1989 Plymouth Acclaim.  I carried four cassette tapes: REM’s Document, the soundtrack to Repo Man, the first Violent Femmes album, and Led Zeppelin II. It was one of those or the radio.)  Violent Femmes might be the perfect record for the bookish high school kid.  Shit, Gordon Gano sang what I thought of as my life on that record.  Kevin and James listened to hair metal in high school, presumably because they played football and scored with chicks.  I read Ray Bradbury, talked to five people, and put my stock in Gano and Stipe.  Mike (I'd argue) speaks to the romantic at the heart of every dork; Gordon speaks to the brooding depressive, the last picked kid in gym class who doesn't think things are going to change (at least on that first record; I mean "I'm so lonely/feel like I'm gonna crawl away and die" isn't even the most depressing lyric on the record, which is certainly saying something). 

All this to introduce the fact that I turn 32 this summer.  The last time I shouted the lyrics to "Add It Up" in my car (three days ago, for the record), it hit me that I've been listening to Violent Femmes for longer than I haven't.  I didn't have that record (or cassette, or "mp3," or whatever) in my life for my first sixteen years on the planet.  I've now had that record coursing through my brain for more than half my life.  Mrs. Citizen and I have always put a lot of stock in those kinds of dates (for instance, we'll have been married longer than we haven't been married in June of 2023, which is crazy).  That record (and, obviously, the band itself and the records that came after it, most notably Hallowed Ground, but also Why Do Birds Sing?) has shepherded me through the greater part of my adult life.  Weird shit.  To commemorate my half-life-averssary with Violent Femmes, we've got two of the best tracks, live from 1984.  (In related news, neither of them are "Blister in the Sun," which is kind of like "Love Her Madly," as far as that goes.)

Violent Femmes – Promise – Live, 1984

Violent Femmes – Kiss Off – Live, 1984

To close out today, as promised in the run-up to my jaunt to Chicago, we've got some live MMJ.  If you are on the way to the Notherly Island on August 17th as well, first Old Style is on you.

My Morning Jacket – Dancefloors – Live, 2008

This is embarrassing.

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Remember when I told you a couple of days ago that, in the summer, for teachers, every day is Saturday.  We get operational proof of that today.  I rolled out of the rack this morning, fed the littlest Dick, put on a pot of coffee, put the littlest Dick down for a nap, and fired up the computer to check my electronic mail.  The first memo was this one, from our own Diamond Jim, reprinted here in its entirety:

"Please post a lazy Saturday. That is all."

I forgot that this was actually Saturday.  Totally slipped my mind.  My halcyon days of summer have bled together to such a degree that I am now officially unable to identify the days of the week.  Crazy times.  I haven't quite slipped to this level, but I think I'm close. 

It was a big week for shows at Citizen Dick's Cleveland campus.  On Sunday, Kevin and I took in Indianapolis's We Are Hex at the Happy Dog.  We were expecting a raucous, noisy affair and were not disappointed.  Frontwoman Jilly Weiis is a whirling dervish of energy, bounding across the stage, standing on tables, throwing shit, and (through it all) absolutely wailing out impassioned vocals.  There's a good bit of Karen O in her stage presence, I'd argue, but that's the sort of sincere, powerful delivery that translates really well in a small venue (and probably in a larger venue as well; but in the intimate setting, you get the added bonus of being close to the energy, which is always good.).  The rest of the quartet fills out We Are Hex's sound with a pummeling, yet diverse, post-punk cacophony.  Matt Hagan (guitars) had a shit ton of pedals and squeaked a wide array of tortured noises and squeals from his ax.  Trevor Wathen (bass), produced a series of killer lines and probably would have been the focus of attention if Jilly wasn't rattling about.  Overall, the show was outstanding, recalling a broad range of bands over the course of the set (I swear to Christ that I heard the bass riff from "Psycho Killer" in the closing strains of the last song of the set).  If We Are Hex gets close to your neighborhood, it's certainly worth the trip out.  Wear a shirt you don't mind sweating through.  (Editor's Note: Kevin took video with his fancy new iphone, but couldn't sort out how to transpose that to the interwebs.  He had much better luck at the next show we'll discuss, but we are sadly without video from the Happy Dog.  In the stead of visuals, however, we've got another killer track from We Are Hex's recently released sophomore record.  Enjoy.)

We Are Hex – Birthplace of the Mystics

On Tuesday, Kevin, Rob, Vince (C.D.Attache to the Lake County Embassy), and I caught Sleigh Bells.  Rob's been pushing Treats on me for a good while and been extolling the virtues of Sleigh Bells in this forum for a good long while.  They were as good as advertised.  Strobe lights, hair metal histrionics, and sweat defined the set for me.  I don't think I have to sell you on Sleigh Bells at this point, right?  They're good.  Kevin had worked out his technical issues by this point, so we can give you a perfect display of the anarchy that is "Infinity Guitars."  Shit yeah.  Also, Alexis said that we were the best crowd ever.  She probably says that to all the crowds, but I blushed anyway.

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It's been a while since we first reviewed Floating Action, but it's a record from last year that I find myself appreciating more as time passes.  When a track from that record pops up on the random play, I always smile.  I liked the record at the time and then kind of stopped thinking about it.  My bad.  (Grammar Note: Shouldn't this song be "I Bleed Easily?"  It should, right?  What would it even mean if "easy" was a predicate adjective here?  Discuss.)

Floating Action – I Bleed Easy – Live

Lastly today, Mrs. Citizen came through with the world's greatest anniversary present.  On August 17, the C.D.Attache to the Lake County Embassy (Vince) and I will travel to Chicago, stay with Acting C.D. Chicagoland Adviser (N.B.) and take in My Morning Jacket.  We're also going to play some disc golf, catch a Cubs game and, in general, raise a little bit of Hell.  In the run-up to that weekend, I'll throw some MMJ at'cha, just to prime my own brain.  Word.

My Morning Jacket – The Dark – Live

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(Editor's note:  I only have three things to say about it:  1.) I told you that was going to be some seriously self-aggrandizing shit. You knew it was going south (lit. and fig.) when the stentorian announcer paid homage to the king over a series of highlights to kick off the festivities.  "Where will the greatest person who ever lived decide to play basketball?  The world will find out in mere minutes."  Suck it.  2.) Miami is not going to be very good next year.  Chris Bosh isn't as amazing as he thinks he is.  Dwyane (sp?) Wade's middle name is Penny Hardaway.  LeBron James, while phenomenally gifted, won't be able to cram his ginormous ego into the arena and he'll still shrink from big moments (see Game Five).  And I'm on their depth chart at center.  Mark this down: somewhere between 50 and 55 wins and a second round playoff exit.  3.) I'm proud to be a Clevelander.  I love this city unconditionally and the presence or absence of a 25 year old douchebag doesn't factor into it.  We still have a whole mess of douchebags in the Warehouse District, so I think we'll be fine.  Go Cavs.)

Not a ton of introduction for the live tracks today; I just grabbed a couple of things that rule off of the sheld.  Enjoy.  First off, I felt like some Akron/Family.  I like the tenuous titular link to recent current events and these cats always cheer me up when I'm feeling a touch bleak.

Akron/Family – Phenomena – Live

I've been pushing this track on strangers for a while.  It's sad and thoughtful and perfect.  This live version is particularly praiseworthy.

Magnolia Electric Co. – Whip-poor-will – Live

To wrap things up today, we've got another entrant in the Summer of Remix.  Remember last year, when it seemed like everybody was doing something freaky with "Two Weeks?"  This summer, the track that everybody wants to mess about with appears to be Local Natives' "Wide Eyes."  Given that the best description of the band that I've heard is "sort of a west coast Grizzly Bear," their remixability makes some sense.  (Sidebar:  the quote comes from P4K . What does it mean that I quoted those cats?  Am I slipping?  Am I selling out?  I could probably count the number of people who know the answers to those questions on one hand.)  We've already posted this and this, but today's blast might be the best, if not the most danceable.  This one comes from the laptop of Fool's Gold's Lewis Pesacov.  While touring with Local Natives he "couldn't help but envision it as a southern rap joint, with its half-time drums and deep-azz bass-line."  Agreed.  This one even has a rap verse.  Good times.  Fool's Gold continue to tour; I'm optimistic that more remixes are on the way.

Local Natives – Wide Eyes (Fool's Gold Remix feat. Aristotle Pop A Bottle)

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(Editor's note: I am deep into the World Cup.  My baby wakes up around 6:00 in the morning, eats and goes back to sleep for an hour or so.  By the time he wakes up for the second time, the early football match is on the television.  It's near perfect scheduling for my parental timetable. (Bill Simmons recently made a similar point on ESPN.  I arrived at the same conclusion independently of Mr. Simmons.  No plagiarism here.)  Before the event (which I kind of anticipated loving, given my deep appreciation of curling, another mildly arcane world sport that I only give a shit about every four years), I identified the Netherlands as the team I'd support.  My interest was spurred by this fantastic article about Ajax from the New York Times Magazine.  That article led me to this book, which details all of the things there are to love about Dutch voetbal (total and otherwise).  Dig this nugget from Dutch master Johan Cruyff: "The solution that seems the simplest is actually the most difficult one."  Yeah!  I'm fascinated by 1974 and 1978; the tragedy around the Orange reminds me so strikingly of my Cleveland Indians, that I'll support the Dutch forever.  All that to say that the Netherlands beat the shit out of preening, pompous Brazil today.  To stick with the baseball analogy, Brazil appears to be the Yankees, so I hate them.  (Expect for that Pele cat; he seems cool).  I'm excited.  I feel good.  And, if any of our Dutch readers can put us in touch with Wesley Sneijder, we'd love an interview.  Also, Wesley's girlfriend is dead sexy.)

You know what I like?  Soy protein, principally, but that's not of a lot of use here.  I like it when the bands that I think a band listens to are the same bands that that band actually professes to listen to.  I listen to the recently released, self-titled record from Cleveland's own Good Touch Bad Touch and I think: "Weezer, mid-period Pavement, Paul Westerberg, and Mudhoney."  The sneering cleverness (probably used to mask vulnerability) on tracks like "Air" and "Everything I Wanted" reek of Cuomo and Westerberg.  The distortion laced solo at the end of "Old Stories" owes a big old debt to Mark Arm.  "All Things Considered" (possible a love song to Michele Norris?) taps a certain careless ennui that Spiral Stairs would (almost certainly) appreciate.  That laundry list of references is important because they're apparent on the record; you can hear the bands that Good Touch Bad Touch love because those bands bleed through into the songs.   Good Touch Bad Touch's "internet website"  lists all of those bands as influences, which I think is refreshing.  A cynic (or a hipster in expensive jeans) might call the record derivative.  They'd use that word pejoratively and go listen to something unlistenable.  I'd call Good Touch Bad Touch derivative in the best possible way.  These dudes know what they love and they're reaching for it, taking the best of their hero's records and melting them into something new.  Good Touch Bad Touch will be in my headphones this summer because I like the same bands that they like.  I've heard Pinkerton ten thousand times.  I'll put it on the shelf for a minute to listen to a band that also heard it ten thousand times.  Also, I'm down with any band that can use "rarefied" competently in a lyric (as in the track below).  Good Touch Bad Touch are clearly worth your time.  Even better Northeastern Ohioans can catch them live today, July 3, at the Beachland.  It's only a fiver and Good Touch Bad Touch translate really well live (we caught them a while back at the same venue; they melted faces).

Good Touch Bad Touch – Air

In other news, longtime Citizen Dick favorites Young Buffalo have signed with Fat Possum.  They are currently recording their debut long player, with an anticipated release in early 2011.  Congratulations and good luck to those dudes.  As we hear tracks, we'll let you know.  In the meantime, they've passed along video for a song that seems to have developed a bit since we first heard it.  It was the bee's knees then, and its evolution is satisfying.  Dig.

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Last up today, a brief word on the Toronto Island Concert:

1.) Pavement ruled.  Absolutely lived up to my uber-high expectations.

2.) If you ever have a chance to see Broken Social Scene in Canada, do it.  In general, bands bring the raw shit for their hometown crowd (MMJ in Louisville, for instance).  BSS definitely brought the raw shit.  Good times.

3.) Robert and I had many Canadian beers.  They were hard to get in the venue itself, but they tasted delicious.  Fix the beer scheme, Canadian concert promoters!

4.) Robert and I convinced Kevin (who was not in Canada with us) that we partied with Surfer Blood, who were in Toronto for NXNE, and then stole one of their guitars.  In reality, we did not even see them, despite asking approximately ten thousand Canadians for directions to the Wrong Bar, where they were apparently playing a super secret show.  Good times all around.

To commemorate our Canadian adventure, enjoy some live Pavement.

Pavement – Unfair – Live, 1994

Pavement – Two States – Live, 1994

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We've been absentee landlords.  We know that.  Happily, 2/5 of your dicks are now on summer vacation.  Kevin and I were out at a semi-hipster bar to celebrate the coming of the fairest of seasons with some co-workers.  The uber-hip bartender played White Denim and Washed Out and Local Natives on the jukebox.  It reminded the two of us that we've been slackers, that there's vibrant new music to write about and that we need to charge boldly back into the valley of blogging.  We're on it.

To announce the summer, I've got two tracks.  First, a purely fun White Panda joint that I'll be blasting from the open windows of the dick mobile for the next three months,  Second, a sweet new track from a band to watch.  Look for that Good Touch Bad Touch review (finally), a rehashing of tomorrow's Phish show and some post-mortem on the Toronto Island Concert from me in the next week or so.  I love you internet.  Keep it real.

The White Panda – The Next Starfucker

Star Folk Band – Ghostman

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I'm in a wedding this weekend.  Last night (Friday) I was a whirling dervish of activity, cleaning the house, grabbing my tux, feeding the baby, folding the laundry and so forth.  I did not have time to sit down and bang out a post.  It is currently 7:16 in the AM.  In approximately thirteen minutes, I will be taking my dog to the kennel.  After that, I will return home, pack a bag, drop off the baby and head to a church for the rehearsal.

All this to say that I am taking the easy way out this weekend.  You get two amazing songs from a transcendent Grateful Dead show (July 24, 1970 – Capitol Theater).  If you don't already have this show in your rotation, hunt down a copy.  It's worth it (and , through the miracle of the internet, not terribly hard to track down).  I was going to go with the Dark Star>Attics of My Life>Dark Star>Sugar Magnolia>Dark Star stretch, but that's a little over the top, right?

Grateful Dead – Easy Wind – Live, 6/24/70

Grateful Dead – Uncle John's Band – Live, 6/24/70

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Lazy Saturday, right?  I'm a little tapped.  As soon as my oral defense is done (12 days) and school's over (three weeks), I'll have all sorts of clever shit for this space.  Today, I've got some live MMJ (a new track that I don't totally hate and a very sweet cover) and some live Britt Daniel (sans the rest of Spoon, which is pretty sweet).  I have no clever trope to wrap everything together this week, but the tunes are top drawer.  Enjoy.

My Morning Jacket – Carried Away, Live – 2010

My Morning Jacket – Move On Up, Live – 2010

Britt Daniel – The Underdog, Live – 2008

Britt Daniel – I Am the Key, Live – 2008

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If I'd have known that Suckers were awesome, I would have made Mrs. Citizen put the baby to bed by herself.  Driven by curiousity, I looked up the opener that I missed from the recent Local Natives show on the "Hype Machine."  The single from their upcoming record is awesome.  More awesome (perhaps) is their remix of the opening track from Gorilla Manor.  Holy shit.  It's like Local Natives covered by Washed Out.  I'm literally drooling at its awesomeness (that's a lot of "awesomes" for one post, so…).  Enjoy it, internet.  And (apparently) show up early to see Suckers.

Local Natives – Wide Eyes (Suckers Remix)

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(Editor's note:  First: I don't want to talk about it.  Second: We've been to a ton of great shows over the last month or so, but haven't reported on what we've seen.  We've told you where to go and who to see, but haven't given you a ton of analysis after the fact (with the exception of Rob's stellar Sleigh Bells review).  I'm taking today to get caught up, drop my impressions of a few recent shows on you and hit you with some Citizen Dick exclusive video.  Yeah!)

Megafaun – Beachland Tavern – April 7, 2010

You know how much we love Megafaun.  They've made our year end list two years running (in 2008 for Bury the Square and in 2009 for Gather, Form, and Fly) and they put on an amazing live show.  Tack on the fact that they're super nice people and they're one of Citizen Dick's favorite bands.  Minnesota native and generalized national treasure Charlie Parr opened up with a dusty set of folk songs; Brad Cook said it was like watching an Alan Lomax field recording in 1924 or something and he was spot on.  When Phil Cook joined Parr for a few songs, things got super interesting; it was clear that Phil has deep respect for Parr and their two (or three) song pairing was pretty awesome.  When Megafaun proper took the stage, they opened with "Impressions of the Past."  The last time they were through town, they didn't play this song, one of the standouts on their most recent record.  It makes sense to not play it, quite honestly.  It's got strings and a horn section and a bunch of stuff that you can't really replicate with a trio.  But they're playing it on this tour.  Later on that night, the band talked about being accountable; if they put a song on a record, they feel like they should be able to play it live.  People want to hear them play "Impressions of the Past," so they put in the work to figure out a way to play it.  In a word (two actually), it was fucking amazing.  It's a different song live (obviously), but it keeps the soul of the original.  More importantly, it speaks to what this band is about; dudes are making music and they mean to communicate that art to the masses in the most direct fashion possible.  Megafaun aren't going to hide behind studio tricks or duck the hard stuff.  They're going to play music.  Which is pretty sweet.  The rest of the set was stellar.  "Guns" was a clear highlight; I told Kevin at the time: there are bands that can play the first half of "Guns," the quiet folk part, and there are bands that can play the second half of "Guns," the electronic freakout.  Megafaun is the only band that can play both parts.  Paired with their musical and personal integrity, that's one of the principal reasons they're special.  Megafaun is still on tour for most of June.  They are not to be missed.  As with the last time they rolled through Cleveland, I'm counting the days till they come back.

We've got "Impressions of the Past" from a recent stop in North Carolina; it will contextualize a lot of the above effusive praise.  Dudes are locked in on this take, as they were in Cleveland.  Megafaun is  also sprinkling the sets this tour with songs from their soon to be released mini-album (Phil described one of the tracks as their "Bathtub Gin," which made me giggle).  We've got sweet video from the Beachland of "Eagle," which is certain to be on my summer playilist as soon as the record hits.

Megafaun – Impressions of the Past, Live – 2010

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Pearl Jam/Band of Horses – Quicken Loans Arena – May 9, 2010

I've never hidden my love for Pearl Jam.  I know it's not incredibly "cool" to be as into Pearl Jam as I am, but we've never been about keeping up appearances for the sake of our indie rock credibility.  I'd also contend that Pearl Jam is getting better with age; Backspacer is a legitimately good rock record (among others, "The Fixer," "Amongst the Waves," and "Just Breathe" are great songs.).  I'll go to my grave arguing that No Code is one of the five best records ever recorded, but Eddie and company certainly haven't been slouching on recent efforts.  All this to say that I will go to see Pearl Jam every time they come to Cleveland for the rest of my life.

Band of Horses opened up and were pretty excellent.  They sounded tinny for some reason (the arena was half empty, which might affect the acoustics?), but played a tight and concise set.  The guitar player had on a really big, really white cowboy hat, which kind of threw me off, but I certainly tapped my toe when they launched into "The Funeral."  The new record is growing on me, at least in part because of "Factory," which was better live.  As much as I enjoyed seeing Band of Horses, I'm not totally sure that they work in an arena setting.  Bully for them that they scored the opening gig, but I think they make more sense in a smaller venue.  It was also weird that Eddie didn't sit in with them.  Last time Pearl Jam was in town, Eddie sang a Band cover with My Morning Jacket, which was the bomb.

Pearl Jam opened with "Wash," which was absolutely badass.  There was like a four year stretch where they stopped playing it (although they've played it several times since the turn of the century (thanks Ten Club!)), so it was a treat to hear a song that most of us would regard as something of a live rarity.  The Pearl Jam catalog is so extensive at this point that they can give most audiences this kind of experience; you know you're going to hear the hits, but real fans (is it douchey to play the "real fans" card?) go see the band because they know they'll hear something that they've never heard before.  Pearl Jam has a crafty veteran's ability to write a really good setlist.  They're going to play "Wash" for the fanatics, but they'll still play "Even Flow" for the lames.  I understand that I have to hear the songs that they play every night, but hearing something like "Wash" or "Immortality" totally makes up for it.  (They did the same thing the last time they were in town; I didn't expect to hear "Faithfull," and it totally made my night.)

My buddy Vince really wanted to hear "Smile," which they played as an extra special request, which was cool.  I was locked in on "Hail, Hail" and the aforementioned "Immortality," both of which they played as well.  We thought they were going to close with "Alive," because they were seriously flirting with the arena's curfew.  As they were wrapping up the song that epitomizes the things that aren't awesome about seeing a band that's been around since the mid-90s (namely their need to play the hits every night), the house lights came up and we thought the show was over.  That would have kind of sucked, but they squeaked out "Indifference" with the house lights on.  That captures a Pearl Jam live show nicely; they aren't going to let the guy with the Dead Moon t-shirt go to his car humming their first single.  All told, it was a great show.  I knew it would be, but it's reassuring to be right on things like that.

I did not take any video of my own, mainly because my Quicken Loans ticket stub had scary language prohibiting any sort of recording devices.  I found this video on the Youtube however, and it does the job.

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Local Natives – Beachland Tavern – May 11. 2010

Suckers opened up for Local Natives.  They're supposed to be awesome.  Six months ago, I would have been in the building for their set.  Last week I was putting my baby to sleep as they played.  Growing up is awesome (I guess).  I'm not exactly sure when Local Natives became the next big thing.  Dudes went from  (I'd argue) totally off the map to all over everyplace.  They're on late night television shows and NPR.  The stupid New York Times even beat me to the punch on the facial hair jokes; asshole "legitimate" journalists always steal my thunder on stuff like this.  (I had a whole thesis on ironic mustaches and sincere beards.  Alas.)  Happily, Local Natives are totally worth the hype.  The show was stellar, packed full of energy and enthusiasm.  I was a bit apprehensive, thinking that the often intricate arrangements and harmonies on Gorilla Manor might not translate live.  I was wrong.  Dudes bring it live.  The vocals were on point and the percussion, critical to overall ethos of the record, was, if anything, more powerful and complex on stage.  The final three songs of the set stand out in particular in my brain.  They started to wrap things up with "Airplanes," which was significantly creepier than the recorded version (on Gorilla Manor that song sounds like a passionate plea to get back together; live it reads like the suicide note of a deranged stalker).  Then, they closed with a stunningly muscular "Who Knows, Who Cares" and a houndingly intense "Sun Hands."  Local Natives aren't naive; they knew we were all shitting our pants for "Sun Hands," waiting for that exultant vocal break.  They delivered.  It was awesome.  "World News" and "Wide Eyes" were also excellent live.  We've got video of a Talking Heads cover that captures the vibe of the show really well.  And, courtesy of the sublime NYC Taper, we've got "Who Knows, Who Cares," which is gaining ground on "Sun Hands" for my favorite track on the record.  Enjoy!

Local Natives – Who Knows, Who Cares, Live – 2010

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(Editor's note:  I still have a Megafaun live review and some thoughts on Good Touch, Bad Touch, but I kind of wanted to soak myself in old school Lazy Saturday today.  I've got that content coming for you this week (I promise), but today I just wanted to drop one new thing on you and then revel in some good live music.  Getting back into the routine of the post if you will, finding my sea legs and all that.)

You know how I roll.  I essentially listen to four or five records: (1) downbeat glo-fli that Kevin continues to make fun of me for loving (see: Washed Out), (2) music based conceptually on records released between 1967 and 1974 (see: Akron/Family), (3) experimentalism couched in the context of popular music (see: White Demin. Megafaun), (4) punk and post-punk made before 1994 (see: The Clash; Our Band Could Be Your Life) and, (5) overtly brainy, semi-narrative folk (see: Southeast Engine).  (That might not just be me, by the way.  Thrown in a Wu-Tang record and those five categories describe pretty much everything on, say, GvB's best of the year list, every year.)  Happily, I just got turned on to some killer new stuff working in the number five wheelhouse.  "At the Wake," from Johnny Bertram and the Golden Bicycles (excellent name for a band, by the way) is going to knock your socks off.  Wait for the orchestral surge at the three-quarters mark.  It's soft, it's insiduously catchy, and I am really stoked to listen to the rest of the record.  More on these cats in the weeks to come, no doubt, but, for now, enjoy letting this one wash over your ear holes.

Johnny Bertram and the Golden Bicycles – At the Wake

It seems like it's been a while since I've posted some funk.  My bad.

Parliament/Funkadelic – Funkentelechy – Live, 1978

Lastly, you know how stoked we're getting here at Citizen Dick headquarters for the Toronto Island Concert.  I've been writing on and off about my giddiness for this thing for the better part of three months.  We're getting close, folks.  June 19 looms.  For me, I am most obviously excited about seeing Pavement.  I'm not going to make it to Pitchfork (three days of debauchery in Chicago isn't in the cards, sadly, given my recent emergence into fatherhood) and Malkmus and the boys aren't coming closer than Ontario.  At this point, I've built the Pavement set up so much in my mind that they'll have to spontaneously combust to meet my expectations (not really, but kind of).  The rest of the bill, however, is super duper strong.  Broken Social Scene, especially given the impending arrival of their new record, will almost certainly be awesome (one of the commandments of live music: see bands in their hometown whenever possible; they always bring their A game).  Band of Horses has been on my must see list for a while.  I've been raring to see Timber Timbre live since I reviewed the record last year.  Kevin loves him some Beach House, so there's probably something there as well.  Add in Canadian beer and this thing is going to be amazing.  Meet us in Canada, everybody.  (Except for native Canadians.  You have to welcome us to Canada.)  It is going to be the truth.

To close out today, we've got live cuts from the three bands I am most eager to see when we hit the great white north.  Enjoy.

Timber Timbre – Magic Arrow  – Daytrotter Session

Band of Horses – Great Salt Lake – Live, 2006

Pavement – Summer Babe – Live, 1993

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Twenty-eight minutes ago, I submitted my comprehensive exams to the Office of Graduate Studies at Kent State University.  Holy fucking shit.  I recognize that this is a "music blog" and that you, dear reader, come here for "music" and "criticism."  However, we generally inject our own lives to a greater or lesser degree into our posts.  It's part of the evolution of non-ficitonal writing, yeah?  This emphasis on the first person singular?  This idea that "I" am somehow interesting?  I'm probably not, but, right now, I don't give a shit.  You're here for tunes?  I have them coming up in a minute.  For several seconds, I just want to stand on an imaginary hilltop in the internet and scream to the limits of digital creation: "I am done with my Jesus Christing comprehensive exams."  I recognize that I still have to write a disseratation, but I am really, really, really close to a terminal degree at this point.  Shit yeah.

This is relevant to you, dear reader, because I am now emerging from the doctoral cave.  For at least a few weeks I'll be able to interact with the "blogosphere" in a more meaningful fashion.  I'll have a show review from Megafaun's latest visit to Cleveland for you in a few days and, soon thereafter, a review of the recent release from local heroes Good Touch Bad Touch.  I'll also be back for Lazy Saturday fun.  I'd like to reassert my presence as a Dick with an iteration of that self same recurring post right now.  I know that it's Monday, but, given the completion of my comps, it seems like the greatest Saturday ever.  Today, I'll ply you with the tunes that got me over the hump.

After hitting send on the mammoth file containing my exams I hit play on a killer live version of "Surfin' with the Shah" from Mike Watt.  He's been this Urinals track with The Minutemen and his solo groups for thirty some odd years, but it absolutely still gives you what you need when you want to celebrate an accomplishment.  Mike Watt knows what it's like to do something meaningful and difficult and time consuming.  Dude speaks to the punk rock soul of every doctoral student.  I've posted a different version of this track here at some point in the past, but this one is the tits.  One, two, surf's up!  Yeah!

Mike Watt and the Missingmen – Surfin' with the Shah, live 2009

I listened to the new Local Natives record approximately one thousand times while hammering through the comps process.  Holy balls.  That record is so good. Kevin had to hold a gun to my head to get me to listen to it, but I am super glad that I did.  Good lord.  There's not a bad song on that thing and "Sun Hands" is the best single track since "Two Weeks."  True story.  You've seen this video a dozen times already, but we've never posted it, so I feel like it's fair game.

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The other thing (other than classic jazz (I probably listened to Live from Birdland thirty times over the last month) that got me through was good old-fashioned psuedo-psychedelic rock music.  There's never a next time, friends, there's only a this time.

Akron/Family – Untitled>Meek Warrior, live, 2009

Lastly, to all of you poor saps still working on some rdiculously challenging intellecutal  (or non-intellectual, for that matter) activity: you'll make it; you can do it; it'll feel awesome when you finish.  I've got your back.  You'll never walk alone.  Not on my fucking watch.

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(Editor's note:  That's a picture of the directions on the inside of my Baby Bjorn front carrier (you know it from that movie about blacking out).  Why the hell is the parent in the picture wearing a helmet?  I don't wear a helmet when I strap my kid to my chest.  Am I putting us both at risk?  I have no idea.  Your thoughts on this issue are welcome.)

Um.  We've been busy.  We still love you internets, we're just in one of those periods where our non-internet based lives are getting in the way of out internet lives.  I'll not continue to bore you with my own (no doubt) boring-as-hell details.  Instead, I'll tell you that you need to get your ass out of your house this week, as there are (at least) two can't miss shows in Cleveland in the next two days.  (I label them can't miss, but I'm only guaranteed to be at one of them.  I am a total loser at this point.  (sigh)).  So!  Slip into your fancy jeans!  Splash yourself with aftershave!  Load your pockets with gum and/or nicotine!  Strike out into the world and sample some live music!  Details follow!

Tuesday, April 6 – Japandriods/Avi Buffalo – Grog Shop

Kevin loves the stripped down grit of Japandroids.  I love the dreamy spaciness of Avi Buffalo.  Both are sure to be stellar live.  This is the show that I am probably going to miss.  Kevin will almost certainly be front and center, however.  Buy him a beer.  Rub his belly.

Avi Buffalo – What's It In For?

Japandroids – Darkness on the Edge of Gastown

Wednesday, April 7 – Megafaun/Charlie Parr – Beachland

Megafaun.  You know how excited we are; I'm ninety percent certain that I don't have to keep beating this point into your head: MEGAFUAN IS AMAZING LIVE.  Expect a full report on this thing later this week.  Even better: do yourself a favor and experience the glory of Megafaunapalooza yourself.  For this one, buy me a beer.  Rub my belly.

Charlie Parr – Jubilee

Megafaun – The Fade

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I'm on a thirty minute break.  I have not stood up from my comprehensive exams for the last seven hours.  I did not, however, want to leave you in the lurch on this Lazy Saturday.  (Mayhap the first Lazy Saturday of spring, by the way, when the flip-flops and short shorts make their first stumbling and cautious appearances after months of cold storage.)  You'll get no cleverness or preface today, but you will get tunes.  My exams are due on April 26.  I will emerge from the cave at that point with the most resplendent Lazy Saturday you'll ever hope to read.  Until then, don't begrudge me my half-assedness.  Cheers.

Grateful Dead – China Cat Sunflower – Live, 1987

Grateful Dead – I Know You Rider – Live, 1987

Andrew Bird – Measuring Cups – Live, 2002

Smashing Pumpkins – Silverfuck – Live, 1992

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Happy Belated St. Patrick’s Day.  Here’s the logic for the following series of videos:  You can’t have St. Patrick’s Day without The Pogues.  (Hell.  “They’ll take you from this dump you’re in and stick you in a box/then they’ll take you to a prior and shove you in the ground/but you’ll stick your head back out and shout ‘we’ll have another round,’” while not only my favorite lyric in the McGowan canon is also a top-notch line to howl at a barkeep (a close second in both categories, obviously, is, “Lend me ten pounds and I’ll buy you a drink.”)  So we fire up our lat St. Pat’s coverage with a killer version of “The Sick Bed of Cuchulainn.”  Of particular interst is the late crowd shot of a swirling mass of pogoing Japanese fellows.

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I can’t hear The Pogues at this point without thinking about The Wire.  The detective’s funeral from the first season (I think.  I’m right on that one, right?) is one of my favorite scenes from the entire run, at least partially because of the excellent use of “Body of an American.”  I miss Jimmy McNulty something fierce.

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I can’t think about The Wire without thinking about Marlo.  While the funeral scene is one of my favorite scenes from The Wire, Marlo and company in jail at the end of season five is one of my favorite scenes in the history of television.  Every time somebody gives me shit at the office, I get in their grill and say, “My name is my name.”  I hope you’ve enjoyed this trip associative trip through youtube.

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To close out this week, we’ve tunes got another artist playing the Toronto Island Concert.  I’m stoked to see Pavement, Broken Social Scene and Band of Horses, but I will be showing up early to make sure I catch Timber Timbre’s set.  Last year’s record was great and, I’ll wager, the material slays live.  Enjoy.

Timber Timbre – Lay Down in the Tall Grass

Timber Timbre – Demon Host (Daytrotter Session)

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I usually sleep at night.  It’s just one of those things that I’m used to doing.  The sun goes down, I wile away a few hours with a book or a television or the local reprobates at my neighborhood opium den and I tuck myself into bed.  Seven consecutive (or so) hours of sleep is what I’m accustomed to.  Let’s say 10:00 pm to 5:00 am (give or take a few hours in either direction).  Then (it’s fun to represent things that aren’t math with math, so bear with me):

(baby + comprehensive exams) x coffee^2 = fuck your sleep schedule

It is currently 5:13 am eastern standard time on Saturday.  I’ve been awake (intermittently) since Friday at 9:00 am.  Those twenty hours looked (roughly) like this:

9:00 – 11:00 am – provide direct care to baby; enjoy each minute

11:00 am – 1:00 pm – nap; sweat

1:00 – 4:00 pm – write comprehensive exams; drink eleven cups of coffee

4:00 – 5:30 pm – frantically drive to main branch of Cleveland Public Library to secure the only available Ohio copy of Scientific Research in Education (Shavelson and Towne, 2002); fight assface rush hour traffic the whole way; feel guilty for hating rush hour traffic because of that David Foster Wallace commencement speech; stop at Vietnamese restaurant for Mrs. Citizen’s favorite soup to (hopefully) avoid and/or delay divorce

5:30 – 8:30 pm – write comprehensive exams; drink seven cups of coffee

8:30 – 11:30 pm – eat macaroni, provide direct care to baby; watch The Hurt Locker with Mrs. Citizen (holy balls was that a depressing movie)

11:30 pm – 2:30 am – write comprehensive exams; drink four cups of coffee

2:30 am – 4:30 am – provide direct care to baby

4:30 am – present – stare at computer screen; drool; “blog” on “the internet”

So.  I have music for you, but not a whole lot to say about it; ye olde “extraneous intellectual capacity” is well-nigh tapped.  There are five songs on this Lazy Saturday; I love each one of them.  One song in particular, I’d like to invite over for Thanksgiving dinner (I’ll let you sort out which one).

First, live Fugazi.  Enough said there, right?  Mr. MacKaye, if you’re reading, please consider a reunion show in my backyard this summer. No booze, I promise.

Fugazi – Repeater – Live, 1995

Fugazi – Turnover – Live, 1995

Fugazi – Joe #1 – Live, 1995

Second, your weekly dose of pseudo-glo-fi, courtesy of Rainbow Arabia, but filtered through (I imagine) the mac book pro of Pictureplane.

Rainbow Arabia – Kabuki (extra special Pictureplane “re-work”)

Last, I’ve got new music from Old Monk.  I know nothing about them but this: (a) they appear to be from Brooklyn, provincial home of the coolest people none of us know personally, (b) the song that they sent to me, “Warm Moustache” makes me deeply happy, (c) they spell “moustache” the same way that I prefer to, and (d) you can sort out more details here.  Enjoy.

Old Monk – Warm Moustache

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(Editor’s note: Did you know that they’re messing with the penny?  The wise old souls a the U.S. Mint are totally cocking up the back of that thing. Given that our reader demographics department tells me that there’s a 72% chance that you’re an American, this seems to be an appropriate forum to start a campaign the stop this travesty.  Rise up, folks!  What would you prefer?  Some lameass shield or a badass representation of our nation’s second or third coolest presidential memorial?  Shields are for squares!  Neo-classical building things are for the hip!  Let’s write letters to the U.S. Mint, flood their mailboxes with our righteous protestations about this defilement of the penny.  Yeah! As an aside, I’ve always preferred the wheat penny, but this hardly seems the space to dive into that briarpatch.)

I’ve been listening to a ton of Akron/Family lately.  You know (probably) that I’ve just had a baby and that I’m in the final throes of my doctoral work.  The drifting psychedelia, hair-raising harmonization and wild-eyed exuberance of live Akron/Family work really well for managing a baby and comprehensive exams.  This trio of songs (“Meek Warrior” melting into “River” blending into “The Alps and their Orange Evergreen”) has been on a near constant loop as I outline and draft, research and annotate, diaper and feed, cradle and shush.  I’m slated to get my degree in December; my son will graduate from high school in 2028.  Akron/Family will be getting a thank you card from me on both occasions.

Akron/Family – Meek Warrior, Live -2009

Akron/Family – River, Live – 2009

Akron/Family – The Alps and their Orange Evergreen, Live – 2009

That’s really all that I’ve got today.  Got to get back to the application of evidence-based practices in special education settings (if you haven’t read Odom et al.’s 2005 exploration of the subject, you haven’t really lived).  As a parting shot with no context, we’ll close out with a killer version of “Spine of a Dog.”  I am a pinball machine.  Indeed.

moe. – Spine of a Dog, Live – 2008