same

This starts out so great. The woods part. Up until just after the zoom in on the eyes.

The song is so great. I have daydreams of getting into something like a studio with her, but actually like a real life situation, like a video setting or something but it’s real, and belting it out with her. Because I can. I can hit it. And it’s good. My voice is right there with it, loud and clear.  Juliana Barwick has a powerful effect on the whole fam, especially myself and Quinn. I’d seriously PayPal her some cash if there was a place to do it. Or wait, I guess I could just actually buy a record or something. Wild. Are there 3xT Juliana Barwick shirts? But yeah, The Magic Place gets him to sleep and Same keeps him there and takes me places.

OMG, places like The Magic Place! I just checked the video for that and the whole thing is great. Gosh it’s good. It’s perfect. We all started in heaven.

Advertisements

lungfish opening for joan jett makes perfect sense

I was forced to instantly go back to college and type crazy thanks to “Truth Cult” by Lungfish and I got so excited by Lungfish I had to go on eBay and see if there was a “Win a date with Lungfish” auction or something. And I found this instead. And at first you’re like… but then at second you–the college you, the college me I mean, the sophomore college me I mean–is like, yes, this makes so much sense. I was dubbing Joan Jett and Lungfish records on tape my sophomore year, maybe on the same day. And hey, I honestly didn’t even listen to that much music. So I’m not sure this is a coincidence. Whatever it is, I mean, it’s cool, just enjoy it. I’m sure it was great.

lungfish joan jett

Maybe it should have been the other way around though. Yes definitely.

tomahawk tones

Obviously feel guilty about liking this so much.

Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve kinda had a soft spot for FSU since I was a kid. It’s like I hated them of course, but respected them. And dug the chop. And the chant (again, please don’t tell). And my favorite aunt, the wife of my favorite uncle, went there. More on all that later and on everything else that’s happened since the greatest moment in sports history, which has been a lot. A lot. A lot. My cup runneth over. Just grooving to this till I get the time.

composer, vocals

Apparently I have an AllMusic.com profile, whatever that is. Grid so hard!

Screen Shot 2013-11-14 at 8.31.19 PM

Did Joey and the gang actually credit me as “recording manager”? I know they had it down as being recorded at the Bo Jackson House, which is what I called our place on Gidden Street for the three shows we had there (still hard to believe). But we had actually just moved to Sanders Street and so Bo was empty and perfect for a studio, or would have been had there been running water, which there should have been, but the water works, no friend to the Auburn music scene, had turned it off a few days early and locked the meter thing in the yard. So my duties as recording manager consisted of letting them in the house and popping the lock with bolt cutters (which I’d gotten quite good at by then) and letting them crank the heat however much they needed. They needed it a lot. The world was frozen. The night before, we’d all caravan’ed back to Auburn from a joint Haints / Auburn Bikini show in Birmingham at The Nick of all places (I think the Haints played, too — maybe they all just met us there or something) in pouring down ice at maybe 40 mph. It took four hours. Gas stations didn’t have power. It’s a big memory for Jennie and I, the whole weekend. Still talk about it.

Anyway, glad they did if they did (which yeah I think they did and which they obviously must have) because man, I’m listening to it again and that album is great. Joey Barrier hittin’ on all cylinders. It’s on Spotify.

my associations with the association

I’ve come to realize over the past few months that I kind of love The Association. I guess I’ve always loved The Association, at least the hits, which is all you ever hear and are really even ever supposed to hear with bands like that, I’ve just never known or I guess cared whose hits they were. Because they were like the butter of oldies stations. It’s Saturday night and you’re driving back to Birmingham after an Auburn game with your dad (wait, why aren’t we spending the night at Grandmama’s?)  and the dashboard is glowing and Windy or Along Comes Mary or Cherish or Never My Love comes on— it’s the ingredient in every oldies-on-the-radio car trip of childhood, of adulthood. They’re just there, so good you never think about them, never really would even think to call to request them (until maybe you reach blog post level awareness), but so silently YES when they come on. And they, this whole time, were a band called The Association… that band…The Association. (I’m sure if I was reading a Trivial Pursuit card, even as a kid, and saw the name The Association, I wouldn’t have questioned that it was the name of a ’60s band, so perfectly ’60s I almost could totally see it being the name of a talent show band in The Wonder Years or something. It’s just a name I never would have thought of without a Trivial Pursuit card, you know?)

Not going to lie—I was about to say never mind and run away when I saw whatever that little routine was before they started playing. But by the end it totally worked. And they’re American, that made me proud. So many of them aren’t, even the ones you think are.

You can learn about my associations with The Dandy Warhols here.

yeah, i like you

dandy warhols

Remember hearing the name way back when and always being jealous of whoever thought of such a great punny but hip band name like that, until I realized I didn’t have a band or at the time really any way to be in a band that I could have named The Dandy Warhols, and so then I just felt quietly happy for them, whoever they were. And now I see that the idea in my mind of who they were pretty much matches what they seem to be, seem to have been. Yeah, for the most part.

I remember spending the night at Brad’s one night back when I occasionally spent the night at Brad’s like we were in high school or something (it was fun) and seeing the video for the heroin song and obviously being disgusted to the point of intrigue by the video (but now, after just seeing it again for the first time in 13 or something years so digging it I’d put it in a time capsule) but really liking the actual music, so much that it stuck in my head all the way to whenever the file sharing days came along and I… you know… but just for a little while… long enough to we’ll say acquire that song (because you start trying to remember all the stuck in your head songs when you’re acquiring). That’s when my first mental image of them took shape, as in like, their official portrait for the cool museum: That they were mainstream enough for an MTV or whatever video, but hip enough (even if a little lame–leather pants and a tank top and Cure hair are pretty much unacceptable, wacky 1997 video or not) to keep Lugsole-era Brad from skipping over a blurb about them in Alt. Press or something and to maybe include in a mix tape, and to consider them legit contributors to the definition of some sub-genre-ish movement he could work into a conversation with some drummer in a bigger band he respected who Lugsole might open for at American Beat. And then somehow later (maybe through that commercial, but I don’t rightly remember it) I heard and acquired (legally, I think) “Bohemian Like You,” and man, the songs, i.e., these two songs, are just kind of great, musically, lyrically, like, to the point where, like, if this is power-pop, I could see myself becoming a power-pop nerd or something (I’d probably be a pretty good one, ’cause I’ve always dug the stuff that makes me think ‘this is power-pop’) if power pop nerd is something that exists, and if I had time, and a hole in my life to fill. Or whenever I write the chapter covering the early Roaring Zeros.

Oh, and after looking around and wasting the last hour or so, I totally have a Google Image crush on Zia McCabe (I feel so Bohemian like you), who in their turn of the century prime pretty much looks and even just feels exactly like a 1997 Kathleen-Ailecia cocktail (60/40) in every way good and imaginable, as in I’ll totally probably trace her for a character in that novel I’ll write one day (see “chapter covering the early Roaring Zeros”).

Writing 633 words about The Dandy Warhols wasn’t what I came in here to do (it was actually–get this– to post a flyer for a Lungfish show at American Beat I found the other day). But I’ve been Spotifying the songs (actually listened to, like, a million of them while I was writing outside last night until three in the morning, which was fun) and the search form was calling and since I think I’ve finally learned how to blog, just blog, I decided to go for it. Embracing myself. Getting out there. Feels pretty dandy.