This is a wonderful quote:
"I like my music with the rinds and the seeds and pulp left in."
I love the Internet(s) so much. How much? This much:
One of the best things about the Internet is how pheonomenally easy it has made it to find new music. Then along come’s Fastboot’s music search engine to make it easy to not only find your favorite musicians/bands music online, but to play it right there on the search engine, as well.
My next, and last, sentence of this post was going to be: "Very cool; try it out."
But then I went back to the site and found that the website from which the Fastboot music search application was pulling music, Radioblogclub, had disabled the search engine.
Very, very sad.
One of the many things I love about my new iPod is that buying it has forced me to burn my music collection and the process has got me listening to stuff I haven’t heard in a long time.
Tonight I ran across the 10,000 Maniacs’ fantastic second album, In My Tribe. I just absolutely love that thin guitar sound of the group.
Anyway, I had to listen to my favorite song from the collection, Verdi Cries. It is such a sad and touching song but it’s the imagry of the lyrics that I love the most–that of a man locked away in his hotel room listening to Aida, and told from the eyes of a girl who steals his pastries from his breakfast tray and who is taken away by the opera:
I draw a jackal-headed woman in the sand
sing of a lover’s fate sealed by jealous hate
then wash my hand in the sea
with just three days more Iâ€™d have just about learned the entire score to aida
Since I got my new iPod I’ve been converting my CD collection to MP3s and it’s taking a bloody long time.
Anyway, today I hit my Tori Amos collection and burned her first album, Little Earthquakes, which is brilliant. I must confess that I only have that and Under The Pink because after that album it seemed to me that she was going to be one of those artists that continues to produce the same sound and when that happens, their best stuff is really their early stuff when their vision has not yet become formulaic.
I remember listening to Little Earthquakes at a job once and a woman I worked with–who had obviously never heard of Tori Amos–asked me how I could listen to her. “It’s sooo saaaaad,” she said. And she was right; but then, the best art is usually sad.
Seeing that CD brought back a very amusing memory. The CD was published in 1991, so it had to have been that year. I bought the CD and loved it immediately and my girlfriend and I played it to death.
I remember commenting to her with great amusement about the raging mushroom phalli on the back cover of her album. My girlfriend, of course, didn’t notice them as such until I pointed it out but then it was too obvious to ignore.
[DIGRESSION: I often use Thesaurus.com and Dictionary.com when blogging to find just the right word for you, my gentle readers. That is the kind of dedication and craftsmanship you get with this lovingly hand-carved blog. So, I’m looking for alternative words for “penis.” Oddly, Thesaurus.com returns no results for the word penis and even no results for the word phallus. There are dictionary entries, yes, but nothing from the Thesaurus. Really? Anyone who has watched just a small taste of Monty Python would know that there are plenty of alternatives to the word penis.]
So sometime later, her parents were over visiting and we stated talking about this great new musician named Tori Amos. My girlfriend handed her mother the CD and was explaining how great Amos was when her mother flipped the CD over to look at the back. My girlfriend, obviously embarrassed and flustered, blurted out, “Of course, I don’t agree with the back cover.” And that comment only served to highlight the fact that there were a couple of symbolically erect penii on the back cover:
I doubt she’d agree, but it was one of the most endearing things that girlfriend had ever done. Obviously, I’m still laughing about it today.
At the very least, that illustration adds meaning to the title track of the album.
POSTSCRIPT: We eventually saw Amos in concert at the State Theatre in Minneapolis. It was a great show but I was a bit taken aback because when she addressed the audience between songs, it was mostly to rip men.
She sure seems to like their mushrooms enough.
This arrived in my inbox on Sunday. The page speaks for itself. I’ll only add that it would not be nearly as funny if not for the author’s commentary on each album cover.
You wanna see something painful?
If you missed Saturday Night Live over the weekend (and who could’ve blamed you? It ain’t exactly the cutting edge of humor these days), you missed a lip-sync moment that should be featured on a pop music bloopers tape.
Teen pop star Ashlee Simpson began her second song of the night with her band playing one song live, and her pre-recorded voice singing the lyrics of the song she had previously performed, "Pieces of Me." As if this syncopated pandemonium weren’t enough, the painfully embarrassed Simpson did not know how to deal with the situation: she danced for a few bars before slinking off stage.
At the end of the show, Simpson apologized next to host Jude Law, and blamed her band: "My band started playing the wrong song. I didn’t know what to do so I thought I’d do a hoe-down."
So her band was responsible for her disembodied singing? I don’t know which should be more embarrassing for her: The fact that she was humiliated on national television or her sorry excuse of an excuse.
The fact that music stars lip sync has been an unremarkable part of the pop landscape since Milli Vanilli were outed. What may be controversial, however, is the fact that the snafu occurred on SNL, which I thought was supposed to be, like, the last bastion of live televised musical performances.
In case you missed it, CollegeHumor.com has posted the clip.
(While you’re there–and not at work, if you know what I mean–they have a hilarous video of a woman streaker scoring a goal at a Spanish soccer game. Damn. That shit never happens at Vikings games!)
The Strib‘s Mark Craig has a piece today on Daunte Culpepper‘s audacious season thus far and how if he keeps up the pace, he’ll be shattering all kinds of records. Future Hall of Fame quarerback Dan Marino was in town to interview Culpepper for a segment to air during this Sunday’s game.
Craig points to the irony that some of the records Daunte may shatter are Marino’s own. The greater irony is that if Culpepper stays healthy and maintains his performance over the course of his career, Marino may be looking at the guy who could shatter his own career records. If your memories go back far enough, you’ll know that it was Marino who shattered the records of another guy who was very familiar to Minnesotans: Fran Tarkenton.
Craig closes his article by asking Marino what he thinks of Culpepper’s "roll" dance. Marino’s response: "When you throw as many touchdown passes as he’s throwing, you deserve to dance any way you want."
But what of that dance that looks like he’s calling illegal procedure? Turns out, it was inspired by the song Get Your Roll On by Big Tymers.
I can see why Daunte likes Get Your Roll On because it’s got a great beat and is awfully catchy. I don’t get my undies in a bunch over song lyrics–because, well, that’s just stupid–but that might be another reason Daunte likes the song: It might be his own little joke.
He just might be getting a chuckle out of the fact that every time he does his "roll on" dance, he’s referring to a song whose mildest lyrics are in the chorus:
Everybody get yo roll on
Everybody getcha motherf***ing roll on
A little knowledge is dangerous, ain’t it? I suspect you won’t be watching Daunte’s touchdown dance in quite the same way anymore.