Evan: Hey everyone, I’m home! Hi TV! Hi Computer! Hi Guitar! Hi… Clarinet… Clarinet: … Evan: I haven’t seen you for a while. Clarinet: I know. Evan: What are you doing out here with the stuff I use all the time? Clarinet: You moved me out here when you were looking through your closet. Evan: Oh yeah… So… What have you been up to the last couple years? Clarinet: I’ve been working on some personal projects. I got pretty good at lanyards. Evan: That’s cool. Clarinet: … Evan: So… You wanna… Play? Clarinet: I don’t know. I was gonna watch Castle. Evan: Come o– Clarinet: OKAY!
I’ve tried not to post links on this site just because I found something neat on the Internet. The goal has always been to provide some sort of original (if poorly written) story or idea to go along with it, but every once in a while you see something so amazingly brilliant that you want as many people to see at as possible. I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s a genius.
Speaking of machines making noises that sound like songs, I was on the train the other day sitting across from a woman dialing her phone and what she dialed sounded exactly like the theme to The Magnificent Seven. Take an earfull (the part starts around 0:23):
I tried to replicate it on my phone. I’m not sure I got it quite right though.
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Once when I was withdrawing money from the only ATM on my college campus, I could swear I heard the machinery inside play a little song as it dispensed its sweet currency. This song:
Well, at least the end of it. As I’ve wondered through life these subsequent years, I often listen for that tiny tune from the bowels of the ATM — with its little trill of excitement announcing the inevitable prize. Occasionally I’ll find an ATM that still does it.
It just so happens that tonight was one such occasion. Thanks to the iPhone Recorder application, I was able to record it.
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Am I crazy? It totally plays that song, right? I like to think the engineers designing this ATMachine added the jingle as a tribute to Wilma Flintstone and Betty Rubble’s shopping sprees whose call to arms culminated in the exclamation, “CHARGE IT!”
My parents booked a show for Aric and I in the town of Marshall, North Carolina the day after Thanksgiving. I was a bit nervous for two reasons: a) half of the audience would be made up of my family and b) the other half would be made up of people from the town. It turns out I didn’t have anything to worry about in either regard. Both my family and the Marshallians were as wonderful an audience as you could ask for.
After the first set, my cousins Marty, Ben and Josh all sang some songs as well. Josh lived in Nepal for many years starting and running an education center. While he was there, he recorded some songs and became something of a pop sensation. In North Carolina, Josh sang a Nepali drinking song. It went over great, but afterwards he confessed that he forgot some of the words at the end and just made stuff up. No one noticed.
I went to The Pancake House this morning with the brothers when the discussion turned to jazz flute… again. Aric went to the Chicago Bluegrass and Blues festival and endured an especially long, smooth, jazz flute solo. He claimed that flutes don’t really have a place outside of orchestral music (especially at a bluegrass festival) and I suggested that Jethro Tull might be a possible exception. In the course of my argument, I may have struck an Ian Anderson pose.
As we were getting ready to leave, a middle-aged lady came up to me and asked, “Do you really like old music like Jethro Tull?” I didn’t know how to respond. Then she added, “I saw you imitating him,” and I really didn’t know how to respond.
Ah, weddings. Sometimes they’re a chore and sometimes they’re so ridiculously fun that you don’t want them to end. Last weekend was the latter. Apparently my camera was having a good time too as it decided to throw in some peculiar (but festive) blurring and coloring.
I played guitar and ukulele during the ceremony. I’ve played at weddings before and it makes me nervous — I worry I’m going to ruin the whole wedding and, subsequently, the couple’s lives. My brother Aric, who has played piano at his share of weddings, put things in perspective: “Don’t worry, no one is listening to you.”
The bride, Renee, was also a little jittery before the ceremony.
Renee: I’m nervous. Me: Why? You picked a great guy! Renee: Pfft. I’m not nervous about Nick. I know I got the right guy. It’s everyone else.
She was worried about the ceremony and the weather and making sure everyone had a good time. Thankfully, the ceremony and the weather and (if I say so myself) the ukulele all went off without a hitch. Congrats, Nick and Renee!
Kelly, who sings Breaking Up with me, sang the national anthem at a White Sox game. She was really nervous about screwing up the words, but as you can see she did just fine:
Oh wait. Not that one. Here she is:
I think she should have gone with “Bunch of bombs in the air.”
When I lived in New York, I wasn’t so into the music scene. I wasn’t really a musician back then, so that probably explains some of it, but I never really went to shows either. Music in Chicago is much better. So is small independent theater.
City Hall has a new ordinance in the works that would make it more difficult for independent promoters to put on shows at small venues. This is all in response to the H2 nightmare a couple years back when 20 people were trampled to death after a fight broke out at a concert, but I suspect it will do more to hurt small, honest promoters than it will to stop any future disasters. Most promoters I’ve worked with don’t get rich off of small shows or festivals. They put shows together because it’s fun and they like the music. A $1000 fee and required background check would probably be enough to persuade many of them to quit putting up shows. That would be bad for musicians and bad for Chicago.
UPDATE: Chicago Promoter’s Ordinance to be reworked. Hooray! Hopefully the new version will address the actual problem without killing Chicago’s honest music, theater and comedy promoters. I have to say, I’m impressed with Chicago’s artistic community. Way to go everyone.
I haven’t had much to say lately, so I’m just going to recommend some music: She & Him: Volume 1.
Zooey Deschanel is awesome in an annoying “you’re already a successful actor, do you really need to put out a great album too” kind of way. But it’s a really great album. Some credit goes to M. Ward (Him) — the arrangements and guitar parts are pretty fantastic — but what I like best are the plentiful harmonies. There are a lot of Zooeys singing on this album, and they’re ALL good! Oh, and she uses the line, “I’m alone on a bicycle for two,” which hits close to home, so that’s nice nice too.
The album also includes one of my new favorite hand clap songs: “Sweet Darlin’.” It joins the ranks of Beck’s “Go It Alone,” Belle & Sebastian’s “Boy With The Arab Strap,” the Tremeloes version of “Here Comes My Baby,” and the song at the end of Revenge of the Nerds. Man, are there any bad songs with hand claps? I think it’s my favorite song gimmick. Hey musicians: make more songs with hand claps!
Every couple of years Trevor recommends music to me. It’s not often, but he has an amazing track record. When we were sophomores in college, he introduced me to John Prine (and, by proxy, Iris DeMent.) Prine has gone on to become my favorite performer. A few years later he suggested I listen to Chuck Brodsky. Now I own all his albums.
Yesterday Trevor asked if I had been listening to M. Ward. I hadn’t. Trevor’s three for three. It’s nice to have a friend like that.
Something seemed a little off in our bowling league this year. I couldn’t put my finger on it. At first I thought it was just the rash of back injuries (we’re getting stupid-old) but I finally figured it out.
The jukebox is an important part of our league — so much so that every year we give out an award to whomever most deserves to lose their jukebox privileges. I think Bri won it last year for his obsession with Meatloaf.
It’s sometimes hard to choose a winner as one person’s Neil Diamond is another’s Travis Tritt. There is one song, however, that is universally loved. It gets played every week by someone or other, often several times. The song? “Cup of Life” by Ricky Martin. There’s something about it. Everyone gets their tushies a-shakin’ and I think a few pins give in to Ricky’s seduction every frame, raising the scores slightly for the song’s duration. New bowlers sometimes look a little confused at the cheers evoked by its opening congas, but it isn’t long before they too fall under Ricky’s spell.
I checked the jukebox on Sunday. The Ricky Martin CD has been replaced with an album of Christmas carols.
Two friends of mine recently released CDs and I’m gonna recommend them to you… right… now:
I went to high school with Eliza Lynn but didn’t really get know her until a new year’s party a couple years ago when I first heard her sing her bluesy, old-timey tunes. Holy smackers! That night she gave me a copy of her first CD, Frisky or Fair, in exchange for my as-yet-then and as-yet-now unreleased album. She’s still waiting. (It’s almost done, Eliza!) In the meantime, she managed to record and release The Weary Wake Up. I’ve been listening to “Weary” (the song) pretty non stop the last couple days — especially the vocal good times towards the end. It makes me happy. Almost as happy as “Puddin’ Pie.”
I only knew Thea Lux a couple of weeks before I went to see her band, “Let’s Get Out of This Terrible Sandwich Shop,” and like most of the others in the audience that night, I didn’t really know what to make of them. I was pretty sure, however, that they were awesome — weird and awesome… and fun… and awesome… but definitely weird. They just released their first full-length CD: Listening. If you like short songs, you should definitely go buy it right now. Go buy it on iTunes. For some reason it’s only $5.99. There are few things better in life than hearing Thea sing “Loved Song,” although I’m also a sucker for “VIP Room.”
My mom has my entire life (as well as my brothers’ lives) carefully chronicled in an elaborate system of closets, cabinets, boxes and drawers. When I mentioned the Columbia University Marching Band’s appearance on The Late Show, she disappeared for about thirty seconds before reemerging with a dusty VHS video tape in her hand.
