do-re-me!

Last week Chris had me sing while I played guitar. Not gonna lie: I'm pretty horrible. But I'm hoping that once I start understanding all these chords, fingering on the fretboard'll become a little easier, and I can just sing...and sing loudly and poorly -- like a great big jerk.

It doesn't have to be perfect to be fun!

On Friday it was tablature for Hey, Jude. But I'd like to learn something more ridiculous in the future. Chord-work for I Will Survive is in the works (sample above). Maybe some Justin Timberlake, or Gloria Estefan, or Biz Markie, or some Men At Work...and my most recent Top 40 crush, Leona Lewis too (I can't get that song out of head! Arggggh...and yaaay!).

hells kitchen and mo rocca

Speaking of Hells Kitchen, the one in Minneapolis is an excellent eatery if you're entertaining the thought of breakfast -- and just happen to be in the Land of 10,000 Lakes. I went with my sister about a year ago, and it was a yummy-in-my-tummy experience through and through. All the waiters and waitresses are inexplicably hip AND personable, to boot!

I'd like to visit Chicago sometime to see a taping of Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me.

My thought process to get to this topic goes like this:

Hells Kitchen -->
Minneapolis -->
Twin Cities -->
St. Paul -->
Prairie Home Companion -->
NPR -->
NPR in Chicago -->
Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me

Anyway, a visit to Chicago is in order sometime soon. To see Mo Rocca. He pulls at my nerdy heart strings. I think it's the commonality of tortoise rimmed glasses and his affinity for unapologetic, unreserved goofiness. Every few episodes you'll find him stuttering as he thinks of a witty response to Peter Sagal's slew of newsworthy trivia questions.

It's cute, and I dig it as much as I dig this.

a little blue grass never hurt anybody

Here's a little recording of Big Rock Candy Mountain. I was bored with Hells Kitchen, so I thought I'd commit my shoddy guitar work to mp3 using a sweet free version of Audacity.

I admit, I'm one of those bluegrass fans that only flocked to the genre after a viewing of O Brother, Where Art Thou. Though my 6th grade string repertoire included a toe-tapping version of Turkey In The Straw, and that should count for something.

I've noticed my yet-to-be-named guitar needs new strings.

Name options (thus far):
1. JT, in honor of Jeff Tweedy
2. Zooey, the disaffected Glass brother of Salinger's Franny and....
3. Dean, as in cool cats Dean Martin and James
4. Wallace, as in the clay-mation, cheese-loving Nick Park creation
5. KD or Pixie, for one of the coolest bands / most bad-ass lady rockers (Kim Deal) around

The guitar's a Seagull S6 Original, that I didn't mind paying retail for (you should support your small, locally owned music stores, if you can). While I *heart* many things, it's one of the things I *heart* most. And if you're reading this, you probably knew that already.

Naming suggestions are welcome.

PS Was there something other than Coke in Paula Abdul's cup tonight? She was entirely too amusing to be sober.

PSS Why does Hells Kitchen seem like sorority fraternity rush week? I'm anticipating an episode where Chef Ramsay brings out the paddle and has them bend over to say 'Thank you sir, may I have another?!'.

Top Chef is waaaaay better.

taste tests, viral nuisances, and intellectual cojones

I wish these cold / influenza viruses would leave me alone. Or at the very least, I wish they wouldn't consistently bother me on the weekends. The only viruses I like are the ones happily associated with the 16-bit fun-ness of Dr. Mario. And even then, I only like it when they disappear or dance like maniacs once the music creeps to that level of uber-fastness (meaning you need to flip faster!).

Downloaded a good bit of music the last few days. In rotation (with links to samples, for your taste-testing convenience): Thao, Shipwreck, The Mountain Goats, The Dodos, Bon Iver, Vampire Weekend.

I've been reading about Vampire Weekend -- blog posts, magazine articles, etc. When the name is brought up among hipster audiophiles there seems to be a collective, vomitous convulsion. Yes, they're over-hyped. Yes, they're a pretentious group of Ivy leaguers who like to show off their intellectual cojones during interview. Yes, they wore awful preppy sweaters on the cover of Spin magazine -- the ones that make you look like you should be pipe-smoking and shooting skeet with your grandpa.

For the record:

1) I have nothing against grandpas, or the sweaters they wear. In fact, I'm positive I own a sweater aptly fitting this description...but I've never been skeet shooting.

2) I'm not a big fan of pretentiousness.

3) Bands have very little control over their own hype. Hype is what other people make them out to be.

Music-wise -- not bad, despite a small laundry list of turn-offs outside the music arena, but not the golden boys of indie rock they're sometimes made out to be. Vampire Weekend is music you can turn on while you're prepping dinner ingredients and bounce around to, a la an 80s movie dance scene with Winona Rider, a young Christina Ricci, and a top-of-her-form Cher (Yea, I said top of her form). They make a decent pop song, but to save the spine of your recently purchased, glossy music magazine, I'd simply stay away from reading the interviews.

As for the rest of the bunch, with the exception of Shipwreck favoring electric, the downloads have been acoustic deliciousness. Give 'em a shot, if you get the chance.

tencent mix #2: a salute to my hot pink, NKOTB fanny pack

I'm certain that I get more hipster cred than I know what to do with. In watching Harold & Kumar for the ump-teenth time and having discovered Owen Pallett's rendition of Mariah Carey's 'Fantasy' (Thanks, Alex!), I start to wonder where it all comes from. Maybe it's the beat-up Keds. Perhaps it's the graphic t's and excessive (to offensive) amount of java-drinking. More often than not, I'm sure it's having bands like Okervil River, Arcade Fire, Sunset Rubdown, and Beirut on my playlist.

Let's revisit Harold & Kumar for just one moment.

Can you remember when Harold steals the 'extreme' Jeep from those jerks at the Quick-E Mart? Remember what song they sing? That's right -- Wilson Phillips. Hold On.

Sooooooo not hipster.

But I know all the words. And I LIKE that Wilson, and that Phillips. I unabashedly admit to it. So I'm making a mix in honor of a few of the pop gems I discovered in my formative -- Casey Kasem listening, when-MTV-played-videos -- grade school years.

Here's a salute to my hot pink NKOTB fanny pack, and a head nod to the dichotomy that is me.