MinneapolitanMusic

I almost forgot, I just got a killer record deal! Here's my first single:




I guess I'll be seeing you on fame's backside, bitches.

Little Miss Girl Friday reminded me last week of the way bloggers used to do this business, like, back in the day, yo. Here it is, a throwback Friday Five of songs I am digging, in no particular order (but numbered just for fun):

1. Jonathan Earl, "Overrated"
   I am looking forward to seeing Jonathan Earl play with his fantabulous band this Saturday at Bunkers.


2. Mark Mallman, "Knockout on 22nd Street"
   One of many great songs on his new album. Gotta love all the references to my neighborhood, and the piano on this song makes me do a little dance.
   


3. Stuart D'Rozario, "Dreamy Eyed Loser"
   Have you bought this album yet?


4. Ani Difranco, "Subconscious"
   and i ain't in the best shape
   that i've ever been in
   but i know where i'm going
   and it ain't where i've been


5. Brother Ali, "Forest Whitiker"
   This song just makes me smile. Guaranteed. Everytime.

Happy Friday!

So psyched... I just learned that I will be presenting at the Minnesota Music Awards next Sunday, October 1. This is going to be fun! Eeee!

Check out the killer lineup of bands, in the Main Room we have:

Sims and Dessa of Doomtree with special guest P.O.S
The Flamin' Oh's
ZibraZibra
Birthday Suits
Haley Bonar
Bill Mike Band
Jessy Greene
The Get Up Johns
International Reggae All-Stars

And in the Entry (hmm...this lineup looks familiar...):

White Light Riot
The Alarmists
God Damn Doo Wop Band
Stook!
Chris Koza

I've been retracing footsteps a lot lately, reconnecting with people from my past and thinking about the ones that "got away," so to speak. I don't want to get too heavy/personal, but it's time for a good ol' Minneapolitan rant about music and life.

I've been thinking a lot about why I seem to approach music differently than a lot of people that I know (not to say that any one way is better or worse, more just a reflection about what my approach says about me), and I keep coming back to one answer: music is a personal experience, and I find it impossible to separate my emotions and situational attachments from the songs.

Not to over generalize here, but I feel that most music analysts with whom I speak / whose work I read have some sort of innate ability to technically analyze music, to stand at the back of a crowded room buzzing with the energy of fans and rock and roll and be able to shrug and say, "yeah, these guys are ok." I can't do it. I'm sorry. I know I have this looming responsibility to report the truth and if a band sucks I'm supposed to whip right around and type up an essay reprimanding them for their bad performance, but I can't do it. At least not yet.

Let's back up one step. This all started because I decided to listen to some older records and cross stitch a small picture of a Scottie dog for my husband (god I am so damn cool; don't worry I am also wearing a knit cardigan and reading glasses and rocking in a creaky chair - why am I 74 years old?) and the record that came on was Ryan Adams, Gold. I don't know how you feel about Adams, but this record is a monumental part of the end of my adolescence and I can't listen to it without thinking about frolicking for the first time in college and getting my heart broken. It's one of those unrequited love stories that are hard to shake, even years later when you have clearly (ring!) moved on, and from the first chord of "New York, New York" I find this big lump welling up in the back of my throat, thoughts uncontrollably flung five years prior and eyes adrift. The tracks progress and each one has a different memory (I played that album constantly for about six months): this one is when he told me I had sad eyes, this one is for the time I climbed out my window to ride around in his car all night, this one was on repeat the night we split.

My point is, when I went to see Ryan in concert, I didn't care that his backing band was a little off or that his voice cracked in the first chorus of the third song - I was in it, man. I was too busy standing there with my hand on my chest, trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest and running off to find Mr. Long Lost Love. Those songs were mine, and I owned them just as much as the singer, who swaggered drunkenly around the stage and dicked off between songs because he was "a little baked." I didn't care if he was an asshole; for that night he got to be my hero.

So what do I do? I can't ever be the cold, hard hitting journalist. All I can do is write from my heart and hope I don't get laughed at.

What's your favorite heartbreaking, life altering, time stands still tune?

If you've read the news today, you know that there is a deadly E. coli outbreak spreading through Wisconsin and the surrounding states right now, caused by bagged spinach that was fertilized improperly. Normally, I read these kinds of stories and distance myself from them like they are a sort of science fiction tale happening to other people in far off places, thanking my lucky stars that I don't know anyone affected. Not this time.

I first heard news of my friend Ashlee's sickness yesterday, and I didn't really know what it all meant - I mean, sure, people get food poisoning all the time, but they always recover, right? The news shifted, and Ashlee was moved to the Intensive Care unit at the hospital where she was admitted in Milwaukee. Doctors were reporting something about plunging platelets, and Ashlee was put through procedure after procedure of blood transfusions, dialysis, and something called plasmapheresis and now she is so sick that she is having trouble recognizing her family or anyone else she knows because of all the trauma to her mind and body. That's when I really started to get worried.

Today came the worst news so far. A close friend of ours says she might not make it.

Might not make it. Jesus. She's 22 years old, and she ate spinach out of a plastic bag.

I don't know if you pray, if you believe in a god or a higher power or fate or any of it (hell I don't even know if I do) but please take a minute to think good thoughts about this beautiful person, let's send her and all the people affected by this outbreak all the good vibes we can muster.

Download one of Ashlee's favorite songs, "TV" by Headlights. I don't know why, I can't stop listening to it.

UPDATE: Ashlee is doing much better. As far as I know she is headed toward full recovery. Thanks for all of your kind thoughts and words!

I just wanted to say: Zak Sally, I wholeheartedly agree.

So I'm sitting here, midway through the process of weeding out the CDs I want to write up for Pulse this week and I pop in the debut album by local songwriter Stuart D'Rozario. I hadn't heard anything about the guy before, and I didn't expect much, but I literally got excited when he started singing. This is a guy who can write a solid tune and back it up with clear, precise vocals and simple melodies. It's beautiful stuff, and his words are powerful. I especially liked this track toward the end, "I Just Wonder," and given the earful of politics I have gotten today from the talking heads and the sick bastards who use tragedy to get their point across, I found it especially relevant:

I Just Wonder

I see a white flag, I see a red dove,
I see a soldier singing a song about love
I see a world in disarray,
I see children write while the poets play
I just wonder what's gone on?
I just wonder what's gone wrong?

I see a blue sky, I see a dark star,
I see people who can't see who they are
I see a rich boy, I see a poor man,
I see a teacher who can't quite understand
And I just wonder what's gone on?
I just wonder what's gone wrong?

So many ways, are there too many shades of gray?
I just wonder

I see a tear in a stranger's eye,
I see a face that you just can't hide
Is this world we live in something new
or just not something we've been through
And I just wonder what's gone on?
I just wonder what's gone wrong?

What thoughts go on inside your mind?
It's hard to see, hard to be blind
It's hard to see, hard to be blind
It's hard to see, hard to be blind

-Stuart D'Rozario

Update: Here's my review of Stuart from the Pulse this week.

I learned many invaluable lessons this weekend, and I would like to pass on these little trinkets of wisdom:

1. Becoming a zombie is hard work. Undeadening is a process that takes much preparation, and zombie make-up must not be applied in a slapdash fashion. When attending a zombie pub crawl, in particular, the low-maintenance, thrown together zombies will be shown up by herds and herds of latex-laden bloodied zomberts*.

2. Maintaining a zombie look throughout the evening is equally challenging. Example: I strode - er, lurched - into the first bar with confidence, proud of my maticulously applied blood drool and thick grayish eye circles. But, alas, after one drink the blood drool flaked off, and two drinks after that I looked like a glassy-eyed goth punk with bad taste in clothing. Thankfully, a few splashes of blood and an eye makeup reapplication freshened me up for the next stop.

3. Talking excessively in zombie-speak (i.e. "braiiiinnnnnsss," "gnarrggghhh," and "mmmarrrrrgg") leads to a hoarse voice and sore throat. During zombification, be sure to eat plenty of lozenges.

*Zombie experts with expensive costumes and deader-than-thou aire.