Sigur Rós Live -- Their Eyes Were Watching God

At the beginning of the year, there were three favorite bands of mine that I was desperate to see live; by the end of this month, I should be able to strike all three from my must-watch list, and simultaneously making my co-authors eternally envious. You've already read the first of my journals, as I made the long-distance commute to the Land of Chowdah to witness the testament of My Morning Jacket. I now present to you the results of my trek uptown to see Iceland's greatest export, beyond some kind of fish.


I took the world-famous A-Train up past Harlem into Washington Heights, in the process exploring a part of Manhattan that I hadn't gotten to see yet. My report: um, there are hills and a lot of Dominicans in this area. Due to my lack of a ticket, I headed out early, arriving at the United Palace Theater an hour before the doors opened. (It's at this moment that I want to make a broad point of saying Fuck Ticketmaster and Fuck Capitalism, for selling out the tickets to people who wanted to charge 4 times face value on various ticket exchanges. It's a ridiculous bastardization of a simple principle: I want to see a group, I pay for the privilege of seeing that group. I don't want to pay 8 kinds of convenience charges, and then pay some asshole who swooped in and bought tickets to an event he has no connection to and just wants to make a quick buck). Despite this potential obstacle, I instantly found someone eager to get rid of his tickets, and I was prepared to haggle, but was surprised when he only wanted face value, mirroring my luck with Wolf Parade. No bullshit, and I got myself floor seats. Score.

The only drawback to my great fortune was that I had an hour to kill. I spent some time looking at the amazing theater, but mainly I spent a lot of time sending random texts to Joe Reefer and Von Bookman. It's a good thing I have the stereotypical-teenage-girl texting plan on my phone.


Now I've been a big fan of Sigur Rós for some time now, dating back to when Ágætis byrjun first came out, when I first became enraptured by their ethereally beautiful music, but I had been told that it did not compare to their live show. I had some familiarity with this, having watched the live DVD Heima a few times when I was in the need for some uplifting. If it wasn't for that disc, I would still be convinced that the band was composed of some formless aliens, because there was no way actual humans could produce such gorgeous noise. But sure enough, they are indeed people, and it was a trip to see the band somewhat costumed for the show.

The room echoed with the pinging of a sonar, which meant "Svefn-G-Englar" was going to be the opener. Once the bow first struck the guitar string, and it wound it's way through the various delay pedals and feedback and that first tone hit, the crowd erupted in applause. To give you a sense of the moment, it's the manifestation of the maxim "finding beauty in the dissonance"--it's a sound that's not a note, but it's still musical. The band really let the room help out their sound, letting the natural echo and space give their heaviily-reverbed guitars and tinkling keyboards space to breathe.


It was a lean Sigur Rós playing tonight, with just the four core members. While the addition of strings and horns often are essential ingredients to some of their work, it was an intriguing experiment to hear the group work as a quartet, and I felt their work suffered none for the effort. While that may have meant no "Starálfur" or "Olsen Olsen", the night would still be memorable. The band mainly focused on tunes from the new album and Takk..., but throwing in classics like "Viðrar Vel Til Loftárása (Good Weather for an Airstrike)" that soared to the heavens. I think this was a good decision, because the newer material has such a joyous feel to it that you can't help but feel uplifted when listening to the likes of "Glósóli" and "Hoppípolla". The second song there also provided a memorable moment, as the band launched into the coda "Með Blóðnasir", they had the audience sing the backing vocals that gave a hauntingly poetic edge to the song. The band would end the set with the crowd clapping along furiously to the deliriously fun "Gobbledigook", and the crowd ate it up.



Throughout the set we saw a band that was comfortable playing together, able to work their way through minor slipups and various technical problems. Too often the members' individual talents get ignored in favor of the group's overall sound, but if you listened closely you could pick out wonderfully melodic basslines and complex drum patterns that nonetheless provided perfect structure for the songs. The interplay between the guitars and keyboards were so elaborate that one could easily get lost in them, and of course there are the wonderfully angelic vocals that truly act as another instrument. All of this came to a head with the stunning closer "Popplagið", with the lights and smoke syncing up beautifully (as they had all night) as the band pushed and pushed toward the edge, and dare we say, rocking out, as the song reached an unimpeachable climax. Now that's the way to spend an evening.

I will no longer be able times-travel

And other things of note

There comes a time in a man's life, and I guess that time for me is now, when he must say "goodbye" to an old friend. An old friend who, as Joe put it, could "go back in times."

Today, I said "goodbye" to Grandma.

Not my real grandma, mind you; this was the name of my car. I don't really have a good picture of this majestic vehicle, but I can definitely find something similar on Google images. Look here!



Anyway, the old girl is gone. We had to send her off to the big car pasture in the sky because the brakes stopped working properly (in addition to a series of lesser issues including: Windows that don't roll down, overheating/self destructive engine, general cosmetic decay, broken tape deck and broken air conditioning). I ended her reign appropriately with a trip to Muchas Gracias for fast Mexican food. So now I'm set for a now vehicle that will change my life forever. Behold!



OK, so I had to get Google Images to help me again. But this is my new car. It does smell like a million cigarettes and a "Vanillaroma" scented tree, but it's my new ride and EVERYTHING WORKS.* I'll be taking this new vehicle for a run tomorrow. Not sure what to name it (Suggestions?) but I'm sure that something will present itself. Oh, and "Whitey" will not be one of those names. Not at all.

In other news, the UO Ducks had an embarrassing play today against Boise State. Granted, they are now on their FIFTH QB of the season after four weeks playing, but still. Luckily this guy Thomas seems to know his shit enough to be reasonably competent. But this loss did end the chance for a perfect season and places the Ducks as #2 to USC in the PAC 10. (Why were we #1 in the PAC 10 over the #1 team in the nation? Well, it has to do with the technicality of having played more games this season. Sidenote over.)

Also, Nic isn't the only one to go to a great concert recently. While my isn't as epic as Nic's, nor is the band as well known, but it still kicked ass. You see, I saw Menomena play at the Eugene celebration. Yeah. And for some reason they were categorized as "punk." The show was short, but great. As the set started, the perfection of the percussion side of the band became apparent. In addition to the fact that these guys can really play any instrument they happen to pick up and alternate vocal duties throughout the concert, they actually managed to get some people dancing. Much of the set consisted of songs off the new album, which I am not as familiar with as I am with their first release. Still, the show was good and ended with the great "Evil Bee" and some nice saxophone action. Then it was off to the bars to celebrate with booze and random women. Yes, it was a good night in Eugene.

Is there anything else to add? Oh yeah - I've been working on this magazine for the last few weeks and have had virtually no social life outside of this immense project. But it's almost done and people will, once again, see me roaming the streets drunk.



Oh, and Joe needs to post something up here soon. We miss ya, buddy!

"I'm pretty sure I can now die happy." -- An Evening With My Morning Jacket

It's funny how things turn out sometimes. When I was preparing for law school, I knew I'd miss out on certain things due to time commitments and so on. On the other hand, I wasn't going to miss out on seeing My Morning Jacket live once again. If you don't understand the grave nature of this matter, I recommend you click the My Morning Jacket tag on this post, or let this link here do all that work for you.

I originally cursed the scheduling mastermind behind MMJ's recent tour, who once again put the Oregon date during a time that I would be in school. At least this time they had the courtesy to schedule a show in the middle of the semester, instead of the day after I fly back east. Makes the pain a little easier to swallow. So, knowing that I was going to miss out on that date, I put thoughts of seeing MMJ live on the backburner. Well that was the case until I got a case of "No beer and no TV make Nic Ouzo go something something" during my first week in school, and that prompted me to consult the schedule once again. Damn, no New York dates, except one for New Year's Eve. But...I see a date in Boston. That should be manageable, I've done that trip before. And it's on a Saturday? Fuck, the second I realized this I was on the Ticketmaster website purchasing a ticket at 3 in the morning, details of my travel to be determined at a later date. Hell, I was only semi-coherently angry in seeing my 31 dollar ticket run me over 50 dollars in service fees--I was set to see My Morning Jacket!



A five hour bus ride (thanks NYC weekend getaway traffic!), one night without air-conditioning, and two subway rides later, I hit the Bank of America Pavilion and prepared myself for the evening. MMJ fans had swarmed the Silver Line earlier, packing the bus to the gills (which I guess is what you can call that expandable-rubber joint that extra-long buses have), and the excitement was palpable. We all knew the reputation and all probably watched Okonokos dozens of times, so we realized we were in for something special. The setting looked like it would help--an outdoor amphitheater with the benefit of a giant tent to keep out the elements, a kind of modern circus that befits a band that writes a tune like "Into the Woods".

I was wondering who the opening band was going to be, but with the instruments set up with the trademark Bear in place, I quickly realized that we were not going to mess with a middleman opening act, which was great news--we need all the My Morning Jacket we can get. It also made me glad that I decided to get to the show early, and not gamble on missing the opening act. We didn't have to wait long as the band climbed up on stage and then launched into "Mahgeetah". It's not often that bands have a song that works equally as well as a closer (as it was on Okonokos) as it does an opener (like on It Still Moves), and it didn't take long for the audience to begin to feel the magic as the song evolved and wrapped its warmness around us. How can you not love a song about a man's devotion to his six string (say the song title slowly)...?


The band then kicked into gear with the raucous "Anytime", the happiest goddamn song you'll ever hear about a breakup, with a good helping of the crowd singing along, especially to the part "But what Madonna said really helped--she said, 'Boy, you better learn to express yourself!'", hilariously enough. You follow that up with the slinky "Off the Record" featuring a ripping solo courtesy of Jim James, and you're well on your way to a fantastic show.

After that, we began to hear the new material, beginning with "Evil Urges", and give the audience an idea of how this strange album would play out live. I have mixed emotions about the album, which will probably be hashed out in more detail at a later date, but hearing them live both calmed me and made me realize my worst fears. You get the feeling of fun that is definitely present, but, like a lot of MMJ's work, they straddle the line of good and cheesy a little too much on a lot of the new material. You get the feeling with a song like "I'm Amazed" that the Brosephs identify with it a little too much, and sure enough, you look in the crowd and see your fair share of Broseph (Boston variety, to top it off) looking like idiots dancing along to it. But you know what, I was going to wrestle with that dilemma another night. I had too much great music to listen to.


New material dominated the night, with nearly the entirety of Evil Urges being showcased (though Joe will be disappointed that unlike most shows on this tour, "Librarian" did not make an appearance (and on a sidenote, how come in all the talk about Skinemax-librarian-type Sarah Palin did I not see one comment quoting that song? I'm disappointed in you, internet commentators for that egregious oversight)). Z rightfully got its due, but most of the earlier stuff was ignored. I had gotten a little obsessed with "Lowdown" lately, and sadly it hadn't come up much on this tour--neither had "At Dawn", "Xmas Curtain", "I Think I'm Going To Hell", "Bermuda Highway", or "The Bear". Then again, what I thought at the time were a couple of covers turned out to be songs from the first two albums. With the small applause reserved for those songs (and for "The Way That He Sings", which is inexcusable), you can see how a band that got its big break about 4 albums in wouldn't necessarily feel like delving into the back catalog.

The band was in top form that night, and it felt like they were really feeling the energy of the crowd. Of course, MMJ is a true group of professionals, and who knows if it was merely a routine effort from extraordinary musicians, but they seemed especially keyed in that night, remarking how riled up we were even with the shitty weather rolling in (Hurricane Hanna's outer edges were hitting New England, and leaving the show we felt the brunt of that). Jim was flying across the stage doing his solos, Carl played some blistering leads, and Two-Tone Tommy was holding down the fort at the low-end. It was tough to see Bo, but the underrated member of the quintet had his moments to shine, and the crowd recognized it, while Patrick was his usual goofy self, with his theatrics during "Run Thru" greatly appreciated by the audience. Jim's passion was running especially high that night, and to see him doing his theatrical act with his cloak, or shaking himself to the floor as he sang those unearthly high notes in "Wordless Chorus" was truly a spectacle.

Unquestionably though, there was one true highlight, and both Joe and Mr. Zhuang know what I'm talking about. I've been able to make dozens of people converts (at a 100% success rate) to the religion that is My Morning Jacket by playing just a few of their songs--I start off with "Off the Record", and they think that's pretty cool, then show "One Big Holiday", and they start to feel it, then it's "Dondante", where they get some chills. But there is one song that tops them all, and that's "Lay Low". It's six minutes that make you believe in the full weight of Vonnegut's quote that "The only proof he ever needed of the existence of God was the existence of music", and as my colleagues will affirm, that is no hyperbole. Sure, the first three minutes of it is pretty groovy riff-rock, and you know it might just play well with the ladies--lay low, if the feel is right, I got all that I want in you tonight, and we'll pass out on the bedroom floor after going full-tilt so long--but once the outro kicks in, all bets are off. You have guitars cycling in and out playing various melodies, lining up with the full band after a few bars in moments that are absolutely transcendent.



And that's how we get the title quote--once "Lay Low" was played, I sent a text message cross country to Joe and Zhuangy saying exactly that. All Joe could say was "Shit", with Mr. Zhuang responding with "I think you are right. Lucky Bastard." Of course, for My Morning Jacket, it's no big thing. Lay Low never ends the show, they just roll right into the next song. That's just how they roll.

New NIN? Again? YES!

I can barely contain myself

New NIN single "Discipline" available on the Nine Inch Nails website RIGHT NOW. FOR FREE. GO GET IT.



Capslock: off.

I think Joe Reefer said it best:

Joe Reefer: Damn, he put up the remix pack already too?
Mr. Zhuang: yeah

Joe Reefer: He is a fucking music machine!

Yes he is, Joe. Yes he is.

Three CDs for a dollar? SWEET!

A magical journey to the bargain bin

Sometimes a good deal is apparent and available. Other times you have to dig through a bunch of bullshit to get to a decent deal. This is one of the latter.

So, I went out to the local CD Game Exchange to look for some new CDs. I found several things I wanted to buy in the $5 section, though they are all scratched to shit. So I moved on to the bargain bin. Now, some might say "If the $5 CDs were all scratched, why would you look for something cheaper?" or "Isn't $5 for a CD already the bargain bin?" Those who would ask this have obviously never experienced the greatness of CD Game Exchange. This is most unfortunate.

Anyway, I get over to the bargain bin and dig in. First I find most of the usual shit: Backstreet Boys singles, bands I've never heard of in my life, bands that I have heard of that are awful, and Lil Bow Wow. Then something caught my eye:


There was really no way I could pass this up. I'm not sure what 'Patches' was up to on this one exactly (drunken listening sessions yielded inconclusive results), but I'm pretty sure this thing was all about getting with a lady to some smooth jazz. Oh, yeah. So, there was no way I could not buy this. And besides, the deal is 3 CDs for $1. What else could I buy that would be more for a mere thirty-three and a third cents? Exactly.

But now I was in a pickle: I needed to find something else to purchase with it to make the deal. My friend Brandon didn't think it was possible, and he was getting sick of the bargain bin fair. I had to do something...

So it was about this time that I found it. And by it I mean "the two other CDs." Hidden under a bunch of really awful looking stuff, I found "Coneheads." That's right. Now, I don't really need this CD because I already have a copy of "Soul to Squeeze" from the Red Hot Chili Peppers' greatest hits album, but that's hardly the point. I mean, I also got "Tained Love" by Soft Cell and "Fight the Power" by... Barenaked Ladies? Yes, this was truly a great find.

Then there was one more. One more album that I could pull out of the mess of CDs. I found it hidden on the bottom shelf. It was... "The Beavis and Butthead Experience." Really, aside from not separating the intro sections from the actual songs, this is a pretty good album. It's got Nirvana (I Hate Myself and Want to Die), White Zombie (I Am Hell), Primus (Poetry and Prose), Red Hot Chili Peppers (Search and Destroy) and, of course, Beavis and Butthead with Cher (I Got You Babe).

So, with this, I went to the cash register and emptied the change from my pocket and got three new CDs. Life is good.

But now I'm going to do some other stuff. Maybe I'll throw some "Penetration" on the stereo...

... Ladies?

When I Say Niggy, You Say Nothing.

Many of you have probably noticed Nic Ouzo's propensity to post about music and review various shows that he has been too. However, you may be surprised to learn that other members of our blog listen to music as well! Sometimes they even attempt to repay Mr. Ouzo for the countless concerts he has bestowed upon us by purchasing a ticket for him to a show. This was the case last night, and I dare say that it was money very well spent.

It's a rare opportunity for one of the WDR crew to actually introduce Nic to a new band/musician, because Nic worked in a radiostation and... well... is just way more obsessed with keeping his fingers on the pulse of music news than either Mr. Zhuang or myself. So it was with a rather stupid glee that I was able to purchase tickets and drag Mr. Ouzo along for an evening with Mr. Saul Williams, aka "Niggy Tardust".

We embarked on the journey to Portland's illustrious Aladdin Theater, and arrived just in time to see the line of people being let in for the opening act: Dragons of Zynth. Now Nic and I have a particular fondness for this venue, as we both witnessed what I believe I have license to call one of our favorite concerts: ...And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead and The (International) Noise Conspiracy, with fantastilarious opening act We Are Wolves. Now, I won't get into my concerns for our country's music fans being so clearly illustrated by that show being at least half-empty and this show being sold out; I will just say that there is no excuse for both not having sold out and you should all be embarrassed.

That being said, the Dragons of Zynth certainly put on a respectable show for an opening act. Their first song or two that we witnessed were actually enjoyable, and I foolishly began to think that we had happened upon a rarity in concert-going: an opening act that was actually good. Well, they neared the mark, but fell short as every song was just a little worse and a little more annoying than the last. However, considering that this was a hip-hop show and that Nic and I have both personally witnessed the musical atrocity that is These Arms Are Snakes (and Hella...*), I felt Dragons of Zynth were certainly better than what could have been. Though by the time they left the stage, there was a minor sigh of relief.

All that being said, none of the ever-increasing chaos of Dragons of Zynth could have prepared us for what was to come as Saul took the stage. We were first greeted with what I can only describe as The Uber-Hipster, with orange pants so tight and so bright that they rivaled the sun itself. At first we thought that he was just a roadie, but it made a little more sense when he actually ended up playing guitar. The rest of the band sneaked onto stage while we were distracted by the nuclear fission occurring on stage in pant-form. They consisted of crazy raved-out, mohawked CX KiDTRONiK who supplied a nice frenzy of glitchy hiphop from a massive drum machine/sampling console that appeared to the crowd more as a huge pile of wires and some tall goofy fellow on the keyboards whose name I didn't catch, but whose gesturing and sunken dancing through all the songs performed was a reliable source of enjoyment.

It was only after having absorbed the strange assortment of persons onstage that Saul Williams himself appeared and tied all the loose ends together. I defer to Nic's description of Mr. Williams, because it was so perfect I'm not even going to try to think of something better fitting of the sight before us. Taking on the role of NiggyTardust during this tour, Williams left behind his previous inclination to appear on stage looking half-hobo half-college student and instead ran into the spotlight as what can only be described as The Pimp Admiral. That's really the only way it can be described.

The next hour and forty-five minutes proceeded to rock us as well as any hip-hop act could ever rock. All the performances were spot-on, and several even sported new and/or improved guitar parts as performed by the nuclear hipster. The only shortcoming was a general difficulty in parsing William's vocals while he was singing or rapping, though clarity was not an issue when he spoke to the crowd of politics or racial harmony. I felt he did a damn fine job.

The setlist spanned a decent collection of his three albums, featuring an updated performance of his classic - "Coded Language", as well as several gems including "Grippo" and "Surrender (A Second To Think)". The only songs that were really missing were "Om Nia Merican", "Telegram", "Black History Month", and "Act II Scene 2 (Shakespeare)", although a particularly annoying member of the audience's decision to continually shout out requests for the latter made me just as happy to not have heard it. Maybe these would have been included if the venue did not have a rather strict midnight curfew due to it's location in a residential neighborhood. There really were no bad choices in the set. I might have replaced "The Ritual" with one of the aforementioned tracks, but given that it is a newer track and that it fit into the overall message and tone of this tour I'm not surprised that it was included.

Though all the performances really were superb, there were some standouts that bear mentioning. "Banged and Blown Through" was a masterpiece (making up for a somewhat lackluster vocal performance of the cover of "Sunday, Bloody Sunday") which revealed a musical talent missing from so much of rap (and even hip-hop) these days. "No One Ever Does" was another well-sung addition, and I personally appreciated a brief pause from Williams to comment on the song: how his perception has changed and how the sentiment is a regular but fleeting feeling. "Surrender (A Second To Think)" was performed with the intensity it deserved, and of course a standout was "NiggyTardust" which Williams approached perfectly, drawing the crowd in with it's chorus.

There was also a brief moment of terror when Williams presented the floor to CX KidTRONiK, who donned a white mask and proceeded to thrash about the stage, screaming out indiscernible words in a frenzy. I don't know about the rest of the audience, but I certainly feared for my life at least briefly. However, the mic was passed back into more capable hands after one song and the show certainly did go on.

It was certainly a night to remember. This 'review' is probably horribly inept, but I hope it captured some of the mood of the event, as it was truly one to remember. I'd also certainly like to hear Mr. Ouzo's notes on the evening.



*Good god, Hella... although I'm still interested to see if any of that monstrocity of sound and pain comes across as music on their albums where different instruments maybe were placed and proportioned well in a mix, so I attempt to reserve judgement. Attempt.

New NIN? Yes, it's TRUE!

So I woke up today, unable to breathe through my nose, my throat was sore and I generally felt like crap. Yep, a cold is what I have, and it pretty much fucked up my day (and as we will probably see, my sleep schedule). To my surprise, when I woke up from a late nap today, I found a message on my phone from one Joe Reefer:

Joe: New nin.

Yes. There is a new Nine Inch Nails album. It is an instrumental album, two discs, 36 tracks. It's called "Ghosts I-IV."

I think it would be an understatement to say that I'm excited about this.

The website has a built in player so you can listen to the album online. I'm doing this right now, and it is awesome. Let's just say that this has turned into a good day.

Check it out, yo.

Fiesta Friday! Leap Day Edition

Because Fridays were made for parties!

Yes, it's that time again. And what better way to get ready for the weekend than listen to some fun music?

I thought so.

This band is one that WDR has been a fan of since before we even knew what their name was. Nic and I were at a Modest Mouse show at the Crystal Ballroom, and we were amazed at what we saw: A three-piece band with one guy on bass, one guy on drums, and another guy on keyboards, vocals AND baritone saxophone. We only caught the end of their set, but we were amazed. We wanted them to come back and play more, but instead some really mediocre band played what sounded like the same song about eight times. Then Modest Mouse came on and were awesome (and piss drunk), but I probably didn't need to tell you that part.

Some time later, we discovered the band was called Menomena (not to be confused with this "menomena"). Once we heard some of their album work, we were not disappointed. These guys get the job done and get it done right.

There are a few videos by these guys that are a lot of fun. I'm going to post the goofiest one for you to watch (above), but I'll link up another awesome one here. What better way to celebrate the year's extra day than screwing around on YouTube?

My encounter with a hockey great

AKA: Why do people want to fight me?

So I was at a place called the Jackalope Lounge tonight, and things were going well. The beer was flowing like wine, the music was good and everyone was having a good time. It came time for me to buy a round of drinks, and as I approached the bar there was some sort of commotion. There was a man getting very angry about something related to his bill, and his being drunk didn't help matters. It was during this argument that I observed something very interesting. This man look a heck of a lot like Wayne Gretzky circa 1992. He was also wearing a shark tooth necklace, which I can only assume was there to make him look stupid. I was in the midst of a legend. A stupid, drunken legend.

And after several moments of unpleasant noise, Gretzky yells at the bartender, "Well, I'm never coming to this place AGAIN!"

At first I was pleased to be able to order my next round of drinks, but then things changed. Without regard for anyone else, Wayne Gretzky ran into me, and the following exchange occured:

Me: What the fuck dude?
Gretzky: What's your problem?
Me: You ran into me!
Gretsky's girlfriend: But we just got ripped off (by the bar)!
Me: Well, guess what: I didn't rip you off. You should watch where you're going.
Gretzky: What the fuck is your problem?!
Me: You shouldn't run into people without at least some sort of half hearted apology.
Gretzky's girlfriend: You just poked a bear. You don't want to mess with HIM.
Me: Wouldn't be the first time.
Gretzky: You wanna start something?
Me: No, I just rather you didn't run into me. Just settle down, dude.
Gretzky: The fucking bar ripped me off!
Me: Well, I've been ripped off before too. It fucking sucks, but I don't go taking it out on other people. Just calm the fuck down.
Gretzky's girlfriend: You're poking a BEAR!
Me: You know what, if you want to fight over something like this, go ahead. I don't want to fight. Just settle down. You don't need to be a dick to other people like that. I don't mean to be a dick to you, but you shouldn't take out your frustrations on bystanders.

And it was after that that drunken asshole Wayne Gretzky circa 1992 apologized. I shook his hand, told him to stop being a dick, and bought some booze. Then we shook hands and parted ways.

He and his friends said a few other things, but they're not really worth mentioning because it was all regular drunk talk. I'm not really sure what the "bear" reference meant, especially considering that the guy wouldn't fight ME. He couldn't be that tough. I mean, come on: I don't exactly look like Ronnie Coleman. I guess I can only assume that this was some reference to this guy's place in the gay community. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The Return of Led Zeppelin

We are gonna dance and sing in celebration; we are in the promised land.

As the resident Led Zeppelin superfan here at WDR, it's only appropriate that I report on how Led Zeppelin is getting back together (and possibly touring).

Sure, it's not the original Led Zeppelin, but it's about as close as we're gonna get (John Bonham is still dead, and it doesn't look like his situation is improving). In fact, it looks like Bonham's son might be the drummer for this new line-up.

But more importantly*, the band looks really goofy. I mean look at the cover of Rolling Stone: Robert Plant looks goofy with a beard. Period. Jimmy Page doesn't even look like Jimmy Page (but has obviously come to some sort of grip about his age and stopped dying his hair). Ands something about John Paul Jones' grin in this picture makes me uneasy.

But the fact remains: Led Zeppelin is back! And there's really only one thing to say: In the immortal words of Harry Rosenbaum: "Don't fuck it up."

*not actually important at all.

Support Your Local Record Store

If there's one thing that unites the WDR crew besides our love of hard-core, barely legal pornography*, it's our shared musical taste (as for the pornography, let's just say it's that weird stuff that you have to get through the mail in brown paper bags). Much time has been spent discussing the relative merits of latter-period Pearl Jam, the mind-expandingly awesome nature of The Flaming Lips, or just how freakin' awesome that one(International) Noise Conspiracy concert was. So I'm sure they will be with me in spirit as I write this.


I spent the last weekend searching for a copy of the brand new Sigur Rós album, because I need a small rectangular box that conveniently shows just how pretentious I can be (and at the same time, how much of a pussy I am). I mean, we're talking about a fake album (it's two EPs put together), from a band that sings in a fake language a lot of the time. However, the big-box retailers all failed to have this album in stock. But you know, I totally could've gotten a sweet deal on a karaoke mic. Though strangely enough, Best Buy all of a sudden had 3 copies of the Airbag: How Am I Driving EP, after being totally absent from the shelves for years. But since they're too late, fuck 'em.


Eventually I rectified the situation and hit up the local record store establishment and found myself a copy (though at a price that more than a few would balk at paying). I then got into a discussion with the clerk about other post-rock bands and other bands on the Icelandic music scene. On top of that, I got my hands on a Guided By Voices album that is currently burning up my iTunes. It's this kind of personal touch that you have to love--the entire WDR crew is friends with the owners of Harvest Music, and as such not only have become good friends, but also get some pretty sweet deals for being regular customers.

Thank God Oregon has a passion for independent businesses, so we have more than our share. So make sure you stop by tomorrow, and do something like pick up the latest Hives record. Good times.

*Not true at all.

Hump Day Helper -- I'm Attempting to See These Guys Live Edition

Because it's Wednesday, and we all need a pick-me-up to make it through the rest of the week in our respective hells, WDR is providing some fun.

The Flaming Lips are one of those bands that I've been dying to see perform, but have always been unable to do so--whether it is the fact that I'm on the wrong coast or that I just wasn't paying attention to their touring schedule, I have always missed out. Why the concern? Well, not only am I a big fan of the music, but their show is highly-regarded universally--how can you not love confetti-spouting mascots and a singer that walks across the audience in a giant plastic bubble? You can't; it's impossible.

And in the true spirit of the "Hump Day Helper", I'm putting up the video of the most amazingly positive song ever recorded. If this doesn't bring a smile to your face, then I'm sorry, I can never help you.

Do you realize that you have the most beautiful face??