Bonde do Role - With Lasers

note: This entry was written a week ago and since then, I have decided to start posting about my favorite albums from 2007. This is the first of those posts.

Recently, I've had moments where the world seems to slow down and my restless leg seems to shake much faster than it should. I haven't posted in two weeks, mostly due to the fact that these particular weeks have been hell on earth. These moments are truly adrenalin-fueled moments, rather than some crappy "Butterfly Efffect" thing (was that what the movie was about? I don't even know). I thought that this phenomena would have peaked on Monday, when I had two papers due, but it came earlier today.

I did something dumb two weeks ago, when I last updated. I prepared, at the last minute, for a discussion that I didn't even have to lead. This week, I was in the process of writing another essay that was essentially late, when I checked my email only to find out that today, I actually had to lead a discussion. I had 15 minutes to read and prepare notes for an article that my professor wrote. I nearly exploded at the moment I figured out what happened.

I seem to have had a lot of similar moments recently. And of course, when I'm sitting at my desk, I tend to think about everything all at once, rather than just the task at hand. The soundtrack for these moments has been Bonde do Role. Their music embodies everything in those moments: it is frantic, yet subtle and it gives me the feeling that I want to run up a wall or throw up or something. To put it simply, it's a genius album. There are ridiculously cheesy metal riffs and sleazy dance beats, but the best part is the elements of traditional Brazillian music contained therein. There are moments of pure funk, tropicalia and even moments that are genre-less, but fully emobody the carioca lifestyle.

With Lasers

Bouncing Souls - "Gone" and another reflection.

I often forget (or take for granted) how amazing life is. This whole week, I've been beyond tired. The amount of work I have to do over the next two weeks seems unlimited and impossible and it's really taking its toll.

Today, I made a somewhat comical mistake. I got a class email that had a set of discussion questions addressed to certain students who signed up for particular articles. One of them was addressed to me, however I didn't remember signing up for it. I looked at the email an hour before class and I hadn't read the article at all, let alone thought about the answer to any question. I hurredly summarized the piece and answered the questions as quickly as possible. When I got to class, I found out that the question was addressed to the other "Chris." I wasn't even angry or disappointed, but I felt a little defeated. It was hubris and I should have seen it coming. I shouldn't complain so much, I guess.

The reason this really didn't sting so much was that I came to a point of surrender while working. Generally, I find it helpful to listen to something that will keep me awake while I'm working. Today, I chose the Bouncing Souls' Live album. I generally concentrate on the work for the most part and the music just serves as "mood lighting" in a way, but when I got to "Gone," I stopped dead. I was amazed at the fact that I forgot how many rough days the song got me through. The ideas presented in the song were so important to my development as a person as a whole; it was because of this song, I officially changed my life outlook from "realist" to "optimistic realist."

This seems to happen to me a lot. I'll forget about this song, but somehow, providence will bring me back to my central focus and the lyrical intensity of this song just when I need it. The song seems too simple in a certain way, but it is truth to live by.

The album that the song originally came from, How I Spent My Summer Vacation, is simply one of my favorite childhood albums. I was probably in 7th grade and I knew next to nothing about punk, but I had heard "Gone" on Punk-o-rama TV and I liked it the more I heard it. Once I went out and bought the album, I couldn't put it down. Some of the songs contain a sense of longing for the past and the innocence of youth, but the beautiful optimism of the songs really outweighs the grief over the loss of innocence. Friends, please take the time for this album. It will change your life.

Bouncing Souls - How I Spent My Summer Vacation

There's Always Room For More Reflections on The Smiths/Morrissey.

These last few days have been pretty mentally and physically challenging. I've been working very hard just to keep up and I don't know how much longer I can keep the momentum going.

I've reflected several times over the past few years about the Smiths and Morrissey's influence on my life. I never really wonder what my life would be like without their collective catalogue because it's absolutely unimaginable. I would be a completely different person in a different place; presumably a much less interesting place with a much less interesting life, but that's besides the point. I've just never questioned, "Why?" or "How?" even though I do that in basically every other part of my life, to the point where it becomes ridiculous. I guess what I mean to say is that The Smiths have always been there for me. When I'm having a particularly bad day, I can listen to the same songs I would if I were having a good day, because there's always something there for me.

Take "The Boy With The Thorn In His Side" for instance. Of course, there's the patented Morrissey hopeless loneliness and unreturned desire, but at the same time, it's almost hopeful. The violence and vulgarity of Morrissey's frankness is what shows me that though I have these feelings, there is a way I can express them.

With Morrissey's solo career, there seemed to be two extremes. Some of the songs were about despair and absolute hopelessness and most of the others were about this strange optimism, but a lot of those songs came later in the 90s, when the "casual" Morrissey fan seemed to give up on him. One of the songs from this period is "Sing Your Life," which is in the latter category. The song is about taking ownership of your life because there's no one else that could do it as well as you could. I love that.

On a different day, my outlook might be a little different, but I'm particularly reflective today. Today is the day I legally become a man in the eyes of the world. I'm not really sure what it means yet, but I'm trying not to think too much about it, mostly because I don't have the time to stop and let this take over. See you in hell, bros.

The Killers - "All These Things That I've Done"

2004 was an interesting year. I was coming out of my "I'm not going to listen to it because you listen to it" phase and I was really beginning to fall in love with pop music. Despite this, when I first heard the Killers, I wanted to hate them and I did. I was being beat over the head with "Somebody Told Me," which is a pretty terrible song. I couldn't understand why people kept buying their album and completely raving over it. One day, I was in the car with a friend and she subjected me to listening to the album, from beginning to end. The first song, "Jenny Was a Friend of Mine" is adequate, but it projected the Killers that I didn't want to like, then it happened. The hook on "Mr. Brightside" was just too ridiculously glamorous and sparkly to pass up. I had to have it. The next few months were spent buried in the fruitiest sounding hooks I've ever fell in love with.

"All These Things That I've Done" was probably like the third or fourth single off the album. I was so impressed with the song, I was actually happy to hear that it was getting played so much on the radio, be it top 40, adult alternative or the real "alternative" station. Not only is it a five minute song, but it has a pretty long bridge with a tasteful gospel part, which is easily overdone in modern "rock and roll" (see: Fall Out Boy - "Hum Hallelujah; it's not only offensive to the idea of gospel, but also to Leonard Cohen fans as well). The fact that the guitar parts are the hooks rather than the vocal parts in most of the Killers' big songs has bothered me intermittently over the years, but I've come to accept that Brandon Flowers couldn't sing his way out of monotone if his life depended on it. I love the way the organ intro transitions into that stupid cheap sounding synth and how that provides sonic weight throughout the rest of the song, even though it's barely noticeable (it's called the pad... kthx sound engineering).

When I found out that the Killers were releasing a b-sides comp, I was plain confused. They're one of, if not the biggest American band in the world right now and they only have two studio albums out on the market, both with about 12 songs. How could you have enough b-sides to fill an album, even if you augment it with live cuts, demos, etc? How do you expect people to pay $15 for like 3 songs they haven't heard and 9 versions of songs they already paid for? The story gets better because I only found out this morning that there are like 19 tracks on this b-sides comp. Some of the songs were recorded strictly for this album, which sort of makes sense, considering they actually want to market this and get a single or two off of it, but seriously, why?

The Killers' second album, Sam's Town, wasn't all that good. There were some good moments, especially "When You Were Young," which is the best gay Springsteen impression I've ever heard, but it wasn't the first album. The hooks just weren't there. I listened to one of the first songs from the b-sides comp this morning, a song which features Lou Reed. I can sort of understand that; it's a mutually beneficial relationship. The Killers get some legit credit for bringing in Lou Reed and Lou Reed doesn't have to narrarate tai chi videos to make a little extra cash. I understood it until I heard the song. It's terrible. Absolutely unlistenable and devoid of anything remotely catchy. The Flowers monotone is in full force and is killing innocent citizens everywhere.

So here's my plea to the Killers: please go back into the studio and buy yourself some help from the Matrix or some songwriting team who are going to develop your decent ideas into good songs.

Twee Ideals and the Id.

Sometimes I wonder whether I'm always going to be 14 inside. We could definitely go into the personnel files and delve deep into the reason this is, but that's really the same old story you tell your therapist every week, isn't it? This isn't about how I feel abandoned or how I was raised. This is about how dumb and impressionable I am.

I was reading an entry in Jessica Hopper's excellent blog the other day about her problems with The Darjeeling Limited. She then spoke a little bit about Wes Anderson and how he really brought "twee ideals" into the mainstream. What is it about movies like Rushmore and Bottle Rocket that we all like so much? Any of his later work can be put into the "I like it because it's pretty" category, which Hopper pointed out, but that can't really be said about Bottle Rocket, which is very obviously his first film, though it's a very good first film.

I know that the "twee effect" really has pulled me towards Wes Anderson in the worst way possible. He knew exactly who he was making the movies for. The idea that a filmmaker identified all our collective imperfections and put them front and center was startling, but at the same time, it was beautiful. It's not in the twee spirit to say, "No one ever understands me," because that's overwhelmingly nu-metal and instantly unattractive. It's more twee to just assume that no one will ever understand you and live your life alone, in a state of adolescent regression. I don't remember how old Max Fischer was supposed to be, but he seemed pretty damn old to me.

I guess it's always been like this; any of Cameron Crowe's protagonists is, at any moment, so weighed down by his own neuroses that he can't get past himself and see that there are other people living in the world. I swear to God, the names of all these flawed, sad bastard protagonists are all just anagrams of John Cusack. Taking it a step further, it was really John Hughes, with his identifiable, realistic teens of the 80s and his hip soundtracks that really spoke to the Anthony Michael Halls of the world, telling them that it was okay to talk too fast, because even if you didn't make out with Molly Ringwald, you were still going to be okay. While John Hughes was a notorious "culture vulture," feeding off of stereotypes and building the walls of social divide even higher, both Crowe and Anderson seem like they were misguided in a sense. They thought they could show that being neurotic and eternally wounded could be attractive if the protagonist came to some beautiful revelation, but what they've really done is create a whole generation of nice guys, doomed to walk about in the figurative "fog of Manchester" until they die. Of course, it isn't completely their fault, but certainly, glamorizing a certain kind of lifestyle is what leads us down this path.

The other part of my piece is about the Id, Freud's imagination playground where we all hide our deepest, most vile and base pleasures. When you think about all your most evil thoughts, the ones you don't tell anyone about, they're pretty bad, right? Be honest with yourself. Are these thoughts contingent with the aforementioned "twee ideals?" In my mind, they are as opposite as can be, for obvious reasons. I think about the conscious/subconscious mind and the 10/90 split when I think about the Id. Many who followed Freud have said that the Id was as prevalent as any other part of our minds and we just didn't voice what the Id was telling us, however I submit that the Id is often beneath the waterline of the glacier of our minds, motivating us to hurt those around us, for no other reasons besides love and hate and all the other great motivators.

When it comes to loves and hates and passions just like mine, the Smiths were the band that really changed my life in that regard; I haven't figured out whether their music has done more harm than good or not though. Morrissey's ever present struggles with lust and murderous desire in his lyrics were always counterbalanced by those great, bouncy bass lines and Johnny Marr's twee-rific guitar riffs. The Id was present in those notes; I could feel it breathing and acknolwledging it felt amazing, but something told me that I should keep it inside. There were many people who were threatened by Morrissey intellectually, but no one seemed to be truly ruffled by his persona and it really seems like it all had to do with his bookish charm and the idea that even if he was spouting about his absolute misanthropy, he couldn't shake the twee image of the big glasses, the hearing aid and the gladiolus.

Is it a perception issue with those doing the perceiving or is it an illusion, something within us that wants to mislead people? I'll never really know the answer to that one, I guess, but what I do know is that now, there are a generation of impressionable nancy boys (like myself) who've appropriated the general feeling, while still being a little ashamed of the Id, however present it is in our lives. Where that leaves us is with the twee I started talking about, the twee of childish longing, of uncertainty and utter oblivion.

The first video attached is for Belle and Sebastian's first single off of their 2006 album The Life Pursuit, called "Funny Little Frog." The song is about chasing after someone who doesn't love you and doesn't even know that they were being pursued in the first place. Stuart Murdoch is an amazing songwriter and has written some of my favorite songs of all time, but I recognize his shortcomings, one of which is his obsession with the unattainable. One of my other favorite Belle and Sebastian songs is "Marx and Engels," about meeting a proto-anarcho-punk girl in the laundromat and falling for her. I think Murdoch and twee pop's obsession with the ideal of punks being the unattainable ones to fall for is well documented and just takes all of our collective shortcomings and beats them to death; we're timid and they're headstrong or we're kind where they're brash. Just listen to these examples:

Math and Physics Club - "La La La Lisa"

Jens Lekman - "I Saw Her in the Anti-War Demonstration (live)"

John K. Samson is probably where this story ends for me. As I wandered to class this morning, all I could think about was the Weakerthans. Whenever I get myself into a situation that scares me, I seem to fall back on John K's songs. John K. Samson was in a band called Propagandhi, which is one of the most radical, anarcho-hardcore bands from Canada, which would automatically exempt him from the "twee" pile, however, listening to his songs written for the Weakerthans, he really might belong in that stack. His songs are about longing and loss and there are even a few written from the perspective of his cat, Virtute, which is really twee, when you think about it. John K's songs are so beautifully written and so literate, it makes me want to bury myself in books and write until I die, which is the real problem. Even when I feel like I've escaped from the twee sound and everything it does to me, I can't get away that easily.

This video is for one of the Weakerthans' first singles, "Diagnosis." If I say much more, my point will be overstated. Just find the lyrics.



I'm just beginning to realize what all this means for me. Am I going to stop listening to Belle and Sebastian and all their European spiritual kinsmen? Probably not. Sure, I'm going to watch Say Anything anytime it's on TV, but I know now that Lloyd Dobler is not supposed to be my hero. Seriously, if you were Ione Skye, wouldn't you be a little creeped out if I were out on your lawn, playing Peter Gabriel? This all means that I have to be more mindful of the things I let into my life and the way I let them change me, because God knows that I'm as dumb and impressionable as the next "nice guy."

The Banana Splits - "That's the Pretty Part of You"

Oh, so you think this is FUNNY BINGO?

The Banana Splits Adventure Hour (or The Banana Splits and Friends Show, as many people know it) was a children's program that ran from about 1968-1970. The show was about a band of animals, supposed to be reminiscent of bands like the Beatles or the Monkees, who played disturbingly good children's music. Of course, they would get into some kind of hijinks that allowed for comedic results in funny animal costumes, but it was really the music that made the Splits relevant and kept them there.

Michael Stipe once said that the Banana Splits music was more influential for him than anything the Beatles ever wrote. While I never really got into REM, I was always kind of impressed by this, mostly because I never saw anything great in the Beatles. I understand what they did for pop music, especially the three minute, guitar pop song (they basically invented it), but I didn't much care for their music. When I finally came across a Banana Splits record on the intarwebs the other day, I had to hear it.

Upon further inspection, it turns out there was a reason for the Banana Splits' music being so good. The songwriting was handled by studio musicians, many of whom later became very important in the pop music world. Joey Levine, one of the most influential jingle writers of all time, wrote a few of the songs (Joey Ramone named himself after Levine, if you're wondering why a jingle writer was so important). Al Kooper wrote one of the songs (most notable for his work with Bob Dylan, basically inventing the "rock organ" part on "Like a Rolling Stone") and freaking Barry White wrote another song. The cavalcade of songwriting stars before their respective peaks were in full force with the Splits, and it shows.

The music is pretty much what you'd imagine. It's sort of bastardized, late 60s sunshine pop with great instrumentation that probably shouldn't be in such a low budget children's television show soundtrack. The Sing 'n Play EP was one of the first releases. Apparently, it came with cereal of some sort, or it was a reward for eating a certain amount of cereal. The theme song appears, as well as three other songs. The second song is easily the most notable; it's called "That's the Pretty Part of You." I often forget the "politically correct/incorrect" didn't really exist in the 1960s because the first time I heard the song, I couldn't stop laughing. The song is addressed to a girl who isn't particularly good at anything and isn't good looking either; her "personality" is what makes her pretty, which is code for, "You lead an unfulfilling life, according to my standards, and no, I probably wouldn't date you, but it's cool, we can still be friends." Something about rolling that up into a pop song screams genius to me.

The Banana Splits - "That's the Pretty Part of You"

Autolux - Future Perfect

Nighttime has never been good to me. I cease to function properly after a certain hour. Well, that's not entirely true, but I definitely don't prioritize things correctly late at night, as evidenced by the time stamps on most of my entries on this blog. Tonight, there are many things I should be doing, but all I can think about is how dark it is outside and how much that makes me want to listen to albums like American Football or Twinkle Echo or Film School.

I've always loved to listen to Autolux in the dark. Two summers ago, I spent many nights in my room listening to this album, focusing on nothing else. If you take away your other senses and just listen, you start to hear things you didn't when you were in the car or walking to class. The immaculate detail in production comes from the budget Autolux had to work with. Not only were the members of the band some of the most influential "alternative" artists of the 90s, but T-Bone Burnett himself handpicked and produced the band. T-Bone seems like he'd be out of his element with dark, ethereal, post-alt rock, but he knew exactly what he was doing... either that or it has to do with Greg Edwards ruling at everything, especially his post-Failure guitar tone.

It's not just the guitar tone that amazes me. Eugene's bass tone and Carla's drumming (SHE WAS IN EDNASWAP, FOR GOD'S SAKE) are equally great. The pace of the songs; the way they slow down just enough for you to catch up, and then the way they pull away from you at the last second.

God save Autolux, because if their next album is a disappointment after so many years of waiting, the 90s are going to be PISSED they let Greg, Carla and Eugene escape with a shred of dignity.

Autolux - Future Perfect

Kanye West - "Can't Tell Me Nothing"

Dorothy Young,
I am so not anti-hiphop.



I'm just very picky when it comes to hip-hop. I really don't know what it is that determines what I do and don't like. It usually has to do with certain production styles, but that's not always the case.

Kanye's new album, Graduation is not as bad as I initially thought it was. I was initially so disappointed by the fact that the beats sounded so European and synthetic, as compared to Late Registration, but I've found my way through that stage to discover how good the hooks really are. The determining factor here was staying power. "Stronger" got on my nerves a little, just because Daft Punk is a bit dicey for me. I feel like sampling something like that is a mistake, but I can't really say anything, since I'm not a huge Euro-techno-aficionado. The case with Late Registration was that the beats were so strong, it made the hooks better. On Graduation, Kanye's mainly self-produced beats are so simple, that it puts the focus on the lyrical hooks. Songs like "Good Morning" and "Good Life," even "Homecoming," the self-proclaimed "Billy Joel hook" song, have great lyrical/vocal hooks that are not only single worthy, but are good singles at that.

All things considered, "Can't Tell Me Nothing" is really the standout for me. Not only is it like a five and half minute single, but you don't really lose interest, which is the real struggle when you're talking about terrestrial radio. The chorus hook is just so damn good, that you can't say no. I've never seen the value in much of the hip-hop on the radio mostly because of the subject matter (I just found out what "Superman-ing that ho" meant... who does that?), so you either have to shock me with your beats (Timbaland, Benny Blanco, some stuff by Swizz Beats, Dr. Dre) or you have the hooks to outshine the beats. Very few artists can do both, but Kanye is definitely one of them, though it seems like he hasn't had a song since"Heard 'em Say" that had a brilliant hook and a beautiful beat.

So there, D.

Me First and the Gimme Gimmes - "I Believe I Can Fly"

There are days when I really resent the Warped Tour. I used to be fully invested in many of the bands who have appeared on that tour, but the older I get, the more I realize how demeaning it is. It's the biggest, easiest, automatically targeted market you could ever hope for, so much so that it's pretty much exploitative. That being said, I come back to appreciating some of the bands that have participated in the tour.

Of course, now that I appreciate all kinds of music, I don't seem to appreciate the music in the same way that I used to. It all sounds very rudimentary to me now, and that's only considering the recording techniques that most of these bands are using (unless they're produced by Brian McTernan or Steve Evetts). This holds true for almost every band except for Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. I've never stopped appreciating them; in fact, I probably appreciate them more now than when I first started listening to them, just because I know more about music now than I did then.

The idea of a punk rock all-star cover band is pretty kitschy and they play that up perfectly, theming their albums and their stage shows to fit the songs. It's quite impressive, considering that Fat Mike is involved (I've never been impressed by anything NOFX has ever done except for their cover of "Olympia, WA"). Their choice of songs is nothing short of amazing, yet they still keep a sense of humor about their being the best punk rock karaoke act out there (more than a few of their official videos contain karaoke scenes).

What probably amazes me most is that they're somewhat prolific. I understand that there's no songwriting involved, but to have so many albums and singles out there when the guy from NOFX and the lead guitarist from Foo Fighters are in your band is pretty impressive.

R. Kelly's mid 90s masterpiece, "I Believe I Can Fly" was sort of an anomaly. It was written, produced and arranged by the man himself and won three Grammys all while being the theme song for Space Jam, a movie everyone under 25 has seen, but probably doesn't remember (or want to remember). When you think about what R. Kelly has done since then, it's easy to forget that there was a time he didn't seem so insane. Multi-part hip-hoperas and explicit videos with teenagers seem to point in a certain direction, but R. did some things right.

Spike Slawson (of Swingin' Utters) takes R.'s masterpiece to a new level. Usually, "punk" singers don't pride themselves on their vocals, but on their delivery. With Spike, these things are inseparable. He has a way of crooning without being comforting and delivering the lines with intensity without losing the feel of the original songs. To play a truly effective cover, a band has to take it and make it their own without destroying the original, which is a very difficult balance issue; it could easily be too bland or too different. Me First and the Gimme Gimmes are really great at destroying songs outside of the realm of power chords and really building them back up again.

Fragile Fawn - "Indian Giver"

As much as I like to say that I listen to "everything," it's mostly an attempt to do one of two things. Sometimes, I just don't feel like explaining myself. I listen to good music. I don't have the patience to ennumerate the genres that make up "good" music. The other reason I tell people I listen to everything is because I don't like talking about my pop music obsession. I am really in love with pop music... to the point that it's become embarassing to my friends and myself. Sometimes, I'm ashamed to talk about my pop obsession because it gets mistaken for a love of conventional, radio pop. While, sometimes, I am referring to something that is getting heavy airplay, usually I'm just talking about simple music with great hooks.

There's something so special about discovering new pop music for me. Yeah, being an early adopter of whatever new buzz genre band is cool, but discovering really great pop is special because so many people try to do it, but there are so few who do it well. Sifting through the sands of new pop music rarely yields anything of note. When I came across Fragile Fawn's myspace profile, I had one of those eureka-type moments. Plain and simple, this is damn good pop music. I can't advocate enough for this band. I heard that the kid playing guitar/banjo (by the way, I think it's actually all guitar, but how do you play a guitar like that?) is like 17 and studying at Berklee, which makes sense, considering not only his technical ability, but his song arranging.

When I still worked at KXLU, I had to sum Fragile Fawn up in a few words, even though it really requires so much more. What it basically was whittled down to was "Foot Foot with a 16 year-old twee pop spirit," which means I'm immmediately in love. I had only heard two of their songs at this point and I was immediately impressed. Then I heard "Indian Giver." This is like a damn Beach Boys song. Not the "Surfin' USA" Beach Boys, but I mean some heavy Pet Sounds lifting. There's so much going on in this song, I can barely handle it. I have to listen to it at least twice every time I hear it, just because I feel like I didn't get it all the first time. It's not easy to write songs like this without losing direction, but it somehow all stays on the tracks.

Enough geeky worship. Listen.

Fragile Fawn - "Indian Giver"
Fragile Fawn on Myspace

Sleater-Kinney - "You're No Rock and Roll Fun"

All Hands on the Bad One was the first Sleater-Kinney album I listened to in my misguided youth. I had just learned about the wonders of copying CDs on to my computer and was combing the local public library music collection for anything new. At this point, I was probably still listening to a good amount of music that only contained double stops (hammer-ons if it was a super technical band) or a brass section was involved somehow. I had barely listened to the Clash, but Joe Strummer's albums with the Mescaleros somehow jumped out at me from the library shelves, as well as albums by Quicksand, the Velvet Underground and Morrissey. Sleater-Kinney's album was a curious case, however. It wasn't that there was more than one copy in the library system, but that there were two copies sitting right next to one another on the shelf. Since I was probably about 14, I didn't have a clue as to what that meant, but every damn time I would go back, there those two copies of the gray and orange CD would be sitting.

Finally, I decided to take it home and give it a listen. I didn't get it. Joe Strummer, now there's a guy I could get behind. He's way punk and I didn't know anything about riot grrl, let alone the Pacific Northwest (outside of say... Nirvana). My primitive brain could barely handle the complexities of To Kill a Mockingbird at this time. What makes you think I'd understand two guitars and a drummer WITHOUT a bass player?

Thank god I revisited the album some years later (a lot later than I'm happy to admit). I made myself a hard copy of the CD and then my hard drive crashed. When I was re-ripping my music on to my new computer, I came across the CD and really listened to what I had missed out on all those years where the album sat next to all those damn Travis CDs that I copied as well.

"You're No Rock and Roll Fun" is probably one of my favorite Sleater-Kinney songs. Who knew the girl from Heavens to Betsy could sing without screaming and write a great pop song at that? If someone were to tell me that knowing only of the K Records era girl bands, I wouldn't believe it. The guitar riffs are complicated, but not difficult and the drumming of Janet Weiss is something special. It's funny saying that, considering all the other songs that Janet plays, be it with Sleater-Kinney or with Quasi; the drum parts on a lot of Sleater-Kinney's early recordings are a bit tame, but the technique is there. In the later years, the recordings got better, especially the drum sound. There were no more hesitations, no tentativeness, but the exacting timing and technique were still there.

I had the pleasure of seeing Janet Weiss' drumming up close last night as she played with Quasi. I've always really admired her drumming, but seeing it live took my respect to a whole new level. It seemed like she was playing every song as if it were the last Sleater-Kinney show. What I'm trying to say is that there is no "off" position for musicians like that, and that's probably the most admirable quality in any aspect of life.

I probably shouldn't be reflecting on the genius of Janet Weiss' drum sound at 1am, so I leave you with this, another great youtube find. I don't need to explain it and I don't know that I could even if I really wanted to.