Sunday is the Lord's day. It is supposed to be for resting. It is not supposed to be for getting so drunk you wet the bed.
That is all.
Monday, April 30, 2007
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
One more song today
We are rocking out so hard in the Monkey Cage today, I just have to share. Maybe every Wednesday will see multiple music posts. It seems like there's a huge amount of good, new music, why the F not? I wanna rock! ROCK! I wannnnt tooooooo rock, ROCK!
The bonus humpday ditty is called "The Funeral", by Band of Horses. For music-heads, this band is old news. They are like sooooo last year. OMG, I can't believe Monkeyboy didn't see and do this band when the cool kids did! Fair enough, but for some of us, the first time we heard Band of Horses we said "myyyeahhhhhhh". Say it out loud the way it's spelled, it was my honest opinion on B.O.H. Just another shoegazey indie jamband making slow songs about being sad. I know, that has it's place in the pantheon of modern music, but I still want my sad stuff to have a bit of balls or spice to it. But then this morning Mr. iTunes was doing his business, playing my songs in order of "Date Added" (my preferred method of cube-rocking). And lo and behold, this song gently flicked my earlobe and said "dude, I think you're into this. You really like this tune alot. Play me again, ok pal?" And I played it over and over, and I do indeed love the song.
If the lead singer of Flaming Lips, Wayne Coyle, is secretly in another band, it would have to be Band of Horses. Ben Bridwell croons a specific tone somewhere between falsetto-whiney and painstakingly heartfelt. It's a vocal style that puts him in good company in terms of long term success. Last I checked, Flaming Lips were headlining the mainstage at Coachella, have legions of nutty fans, and encourage costumed animals to frolic onstage. All plusses if you want to make it big. However, perhaps paying deference to their Seattle background, Band of Horses seems like they're on downers or opiates. They don't do uplifting. At all. They want the girl to stay the night, and she won't. They use the words OFF and OVER alot. As the song I've given you today states, "at every occasion I'll be ready for the funeral." I respect the guys for singing it the way they feel it - that's what indie music is about. But in my role as twitchy primate/future reader, I see lots of thirty somethings swaying to the Horses in small clubs for the next decade, and not a single mention in Blender. I am sure the band will be tickled if that's how it plays out for them. Good luck lads.
The bonus humpday ditty is called "The Funeral", by Band of Horses. For music-heads, this band is old news. They are like sooooo last year. OMG, I can't believe Monkeyboy didn't see and do this band when the cool kids did! Fair enough, but for some of us, the first time we heard Band of Horses we said "myyyeahhhhhhh". Say it out loud the way it's spelled, it was my honest opinion on B.O.H. Just another shoegazey indie jamband making slow songs about being sad. I know, that has it's place in the pantheon of modern music, but I still want my sad stuff to have a bit of balls or spice to it. But then this morning Mr. iTunes was doing his business, playing my songs in order of "Date Added" (my preferred method of cube-rocking). And lo and behold, this song gently flicked my earlobe and said "dude, I think you're into this. You really like this tune alot. Play me again, ok pal?" And I played it over and over, and I do indeed love the song.
If the lead singer of Flaming Lips, Wayne Coyle, is secretly in another band, it would have to be Band of Horses. Ben Bridwell croons a specific tone somewhere between falsetto-whiney and painstakingly heartfelt. It's a vocal style that puts him in good company in terms of long term success. Last I checked, Flaming Lips were headlining the mainstage at Coachella, have legions of nutty fans, and encourage costumed animals to frolic onstage. All plusses if you want to make it big. However, perhaps paying deference to their Seattle background, Band of Horses seems like they're on downers or opiates. They don't do uplifting. At all. They want the girl to stay the night, and she won't. They use the words OFF and OVER alot. As the song I've given you today states, "at every occasion I'll be ready for the funeral." I respect the guys for singing it the way they feel it - that's what indie music is about. But in my role as twitchy primate/future reader, I see lots of thirty somethings swaying to the Horses in small clubs for the next decade, and not a single mention in Blender. I am sure the band will be tickled if that's how it plays out for them. Good luck lads.
Victim Number One
Wow, week one in the blog world and I am already setting 'em up and putting them down. I’ve given the Blogmaster his comeuppance. Who is Blogmaster? Well I’ve already dropped his name in the first post ever, so it should be easy to figure out. He has about 200,000 readers, he was in People magazine, he generally is a d-list blog celebrity in this here village we call Manhattan.
This puts me in a tricky spot. While Chimpy enjoys mocking people, it becomes a different story altogether when the mocked find out about it. There, now you know what I’m talking about. While Blogmaster protects the innocent by changing everybody’s name…he doesn’t change mine?!?! Strange. Of course in sharing his, ummm "reputation" with others I've given him fodder that will probably be one of the funnier posts he writes this year. Blogs warp the rules of life I guess; normally a guy would want to punch me out for sharing stories of his bedroom (in)abilities. In this case, I think he owes me a beer. Odd.
I think this little episode bodes well for the old blog. Bring the Noise!
So the main theme on Wednesdays at chimponadavenport shall be music. I will dissect whether an emerging band has what it takes to break it big. You know - get into Spin, have teenage kids start listing them as an interest on Myspace, that type of "breaking it big". Here's how we'll work it. I'll give you a link to a great song by a band you may/may not have heard from yet. Go get the song if you know how to do that, and download it. Play it. Listen intently. Then I want you to critique the tune on a 6 point scale for lyrics, melody, composition, originality, and overall point of view. One for hate, six for love. Half points are allowed in the overall category. And then I want you to free associate 5-10 words of what the song makes you think of, just off the top of your head. Then come read the rest of this.
JUST KIDDING! While the above exercise is something my friend the The Chauffeur likes to do while killing work hours, I just want you to listen to something cool and different. This week, the Monkey Cage (my cube at work) is still stuck on one of last year's indie darlings. Asobi Seksu. Go check out their song Thursday. It's a beauty. I can't get over how the song is composed with constant tension between the pleading voice of the singer and the ever building tempo of the guitar/bass line. Just when you expect a release into pop bliss at the end of the chorus, they break into silent pause. Tension reestablished. It's fairly simple, accessible pop-rock with a touch of that "wall of noise" towards the end that makes me think they doth know exactly what they're doing. And it never hurts to listen to a half-japanese chick sing all high pitched and sexy.
I'm not sure if Asobi Seksu has what it takes to break out of the blogosphere and slay the mainstream. It doesn't have much appeal to most dudes - I know what that says about me, we all know Chimpy is 49% gay, OKKKKKK? - and I think it's only going to appeal to people old enough to remember Belinda Carlisle and other rockin' 80's chickpop. I really hope they don't go the route other NYC bands have gone...get Rick Ocasek to produce your next album and try to dull yourself onto the radio waves. No offense Mr. Ocasek, but you were truly on your game when Mutt Lange was producing you. But that's for another day and another post...
This puts me in a tricky spot. While Chimpy enjoys mocking people, it becomes a different story altogether when the mocked find out about it. There, now you know what I’m talking about. While Blogmaster protects the innocent by changing everybody’s name…he doesn’t change mine?!?! Strange. Of course in sharing his, ummm "reputation" with others I've given him fodder that will probably be one of the funnier posts he writes this year. Blogs warp the rules of life I guess; normally a guy would want to punch me out for sharing stories of his bedroom (in)abilities. In this case, I think he owes me a beer. Odd.
I think this little episode bodes well for the old blog. Bring the Noise!
So the main theme on Wednesdays at chimponadavenport shall be music. I will dissect whether an emerging band has what it takes to break it big. You know - get into Spin, have teenage kids start listing them as an interest on Myspace, that type of "breaking it big". Here's how we'll work it. I'll give you a link to a great song by a band you may/may not have heard from yet. Go get the song if you know how to do that, and download it. Play it. Listen intently. Then I want you to critique the tune on a 6 point scale for lyrics, melody, composition, originality, and overall point of view. One for hate, six for love. Half points are allowed in the overall category. And then I want you to free associate 5-10 words of what the song makes you think of, just off the top of your head. Then come read the rest of this.
JUST KIDDING! While the above exercise is something my friend the The Chauffeur likes to do while killing work hours, I just want you to listen to something cool and different. This week, the Monkey Cage (my cube at work) is still stuck on one of last year's indie darlings. Asobi Seksu. Go check out their song Thursday. It's a beauty. I can't get over how the song is composed with constant tension between the pleading voice of the singer and the ever building tempo of the guitar/bass line. Just when you expect a release into pop bliss at the end of the chorus, they break into silent pause. Tension reestablished. It's fairly simple, accessible pop-rock with a touch of that "wall of noise" towards the end that makes me think they doth know exactly what they're doing. And it never hurts to listen to a half-japanese chick sing all high pitched and sexy.
I'm not sure if Asobi Seksu has what it takes to break out of the blogosphere and slay the mainstream. It doesn't have much appeal to most dudes - I know what that says about me, we all know Chimpy is 49% gay, OKKKKKK? - and I think it's only going to appeal to people old enough to remember Belinda Carlisle and other rockin' 80's chickpop. I really hope they don't go the route other NYC bands have gone...get Rick Ocasek to produce your next album and try to dull yourself onto the radio waves. No offense Mr. Ocasek, but you were truly on your game when Mutt Lange was producing you. But that's for another day and another post...
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Such a waste!
Lookie Lookie, the Coast Guard went and did some good.
Chimpy don't want to sound too preachy here, but some extremely poor people worked REALLY hard to make those goodies. They spent all winter (fall? spring? It's hard to know seasons in the tropics) tending their plots, watering and cultivating their plants, and harvesting. Mr. Escobar, he paid them a fair wage. And then the Big Bad U.S. Coast Guard comes in and POOF! All the hard work gone! Do you think it would really improve Mr. and Mrs. Bolivian Farmer's lives if I were to send them this story and say, "Look! Your work, eez all gone. We burn it. Sorry amigo!". Is this social justice? Me thinks not.
And yes, I know there's a whole host of social issues involved in "the trade", but lets just be pragmatic about the situation, ok? You can't fight capitalism, and demand is solid. Perhaps there are reasons to eradicate - not great reasons from a viewpoint of the locals. I think I've said enough here, we're getting way too muckity liberal on you, fair reader. Must be the California upbringing. Let's just be happy the farmers have their own weapons. Go farmers! I know this guy is going to be so so happy when I see him out and about in Chelsea this weekend for you and your farmerly goods.
(On a side note, Goddamnnnnn, I am so energetic today! Euphoric even! It's almost like I took a miracle drug!)
Chimpy don't want to sound too preachy here, but some extremely poor people worked REALLY hard to make those goodies. They spent all winter (fall? spring? It's hard to know seasons in the tropics) tending their plots, watering and cultivating their plants, and harvesting. Mr. Escobar, he paid them a fair wage. And then the Big Bad U.S. Coast Guard comes in and POOF! All the hard work gone! Do you think it would really improve Mr. and Mrs. Bolivian Farmer's lives if I were to send them this story and say, "Look! Your work, eez all gone. We burn it. Sorry amigo!". Is this social justice? Me thinks not.
And yes, I know there's a whole host of social issues involved in "the trade", but lets just be pragmatic about the situation, ok? You can't fight capitalism, and demand is solid. Perhaps there are reasons to eradicate - not great reasons from a viewpoint of the locals. I think I've said enough here, we're getting way too muckity liberal on you, fair reader. Must be the California upbringing. Let's just be happy the farmers have their own weapons. Go farmers! I know this guy is going to be so so happy when I see him out and about in Chelsea this weekend for you and your farmerly goods.
(On a side note, Goddamnnnnn, I am so energetic today! Euphoric even! It's almost like I took a miracle drug!)
Monday, April 23, 2007
Let the good times roll
So I have been an active blog reader for about 2 years now. I've read the good (www.jasonmulgrew.com), the bad (www.huffingtonpost.com), and the ugly (www.hotchickswithdouchebags.com) . I know, I know - late to the phenomenon. I'm not exactly an early adapter. I like to let all the tech dorks spend their hard earned cash on $500 gadgets that, if successful, will cost $200 down the line. Or more like $50. For reals, I actually bought my first VCR in 2000. I told my brother about how excited I was to have a VCR finally, and he said, "Welcome to the 80's, monkey boy".
Why then must I start something like a blog that at this point is so overdone, so cliche, so, I don't know, 2005? Simply put - Chimpy See, Chimpy Do. It's just too tempting; I don't like being OUT OF THE GAME, as they say. The nature of this beast shall be to observe all of you, and myself, and fling it all online and see what sticks. Too (two?) many metaphors there? I guess I'll have to be my own police. The metaphor, it beckons like a cheap harlot at last call in the LES. You want to use her, it's really convenient and you don't have anything better going on. But Madame Metaphor will just leave you empty and lonely. And it might feel like razorblades are coming out when you piss a few days later. So leave the damn metaphors to one per sentence Chimpy!
To keep things fabulously funny, and non-litigious, we'll be using Fake Names in this here blog. Those of you that know me well will be able to see the thinly veiled references, but for the broader audience this blog is sure to attract (by the dozen? by the one?), there will be no knowledge of person referenced. For instance, I am your author, Chimpy. Or Monkey Boy. Or Bonzo. You get the point. My significant other - for there is a second chimp on this davenport - shall be The Girl. Or Beasty McWifey. Or Lil'Cleatis. Ok, not Lil'Cleatis, that's total nonsense. Some other regular characters will be introduced, I'll try to keep their names the same or similar. I like to call them friends, they probably call me the guy that won't stop calling and knows 13 ways to break into their apartments. Semantics.
Mostly though, I am coming after you. That's right, pay attention Douchey McFratboy and Giggles Likesdouches, you Manhattanites are all fair game. Hell, if I venture on the L or F or the Path to a far-flung suburb, I'm coming after you too! It's open season on people that don't get it. Hell hath no fury like a married, smug guy that's mostly bored with his job and is looking to kill thirty odd years until they give him a gold watch and a vacation package for 2 to Palm Beach. Chimpy is watching, and Chimpy is drinking, and then Chimpy is flinging it all for the amusement of self and friends on this here site. Let the games begin.
I'll also ponder some music, some baseball, some college basketball, and maybe the meaning of God and Self sometimes. Keep it light. And if you somehow spot yourself and your inane antics on this site, be glad...you just got your 15 minutes of crappy blog fame.
Why then must I start something like a blog that at this point is so overdone, so cliche, so, I don't know, 2005? Simply put - Chimpy See, Chimpy Do. It's just too tempting; I don't like being OUT OF THE GAME, as they say. The nature of this beast shall be to observe all of you, and myself, and fling it all online and see what sticks. Too (two?) many metaphors there? I guess I'll have to be my own police. The metaphor, it beckons like a cheap harlot at last call in the LES. You want to use her, it's really convenient and you don't have anything better going on. But Madame Metaphor will just leave you empty and lonely. And it might feel like razorblades are coming out when you piss a few days later. So leave the damn metaphors to one per sentence Chimpy!
To keep things fabulously funny, and non-litigious, we'll be using Fake Names in this here blog. Those of you that know me well will be able to see the thinly veiled references, but for the broader audience this blog is sure to attract (by the dozen? by the one?), there will be no knowledge of person referenced. For instance, I am your author, Chimpy. Or Monkey Boy. Or Bonzo. You get the point. My significant other - for there is a second chimp on this davenport - shall be The Girl. Or Beasty McWifey. Or Lil'Cleatis. Ok, not Lil'Cleatis, that's total nonsense. Some other regular characters will be introduced, I'll try to keep their names the same or similar. I like to call them friends, they probably call me the guy that won't stop calling and knows 13 ways to break into their apartments. Semantics.
Mostly though, I am coming after you. That's right, pay attention Douchey McFratboy and Giggles Likesdouches, you Manhattanites are all fair game. Hell, if I venture on the L or F or the Path to a far-flung suburb, I'm coming after you too! It's open season on people that don't get it. Hell hath no fury like a married, smug guy that's mostly bored with his job and is looking to kill thirty odd years until they give him a gold watch and a vacation package for 2 to Palm Beach. Chimpy is watching, and Chimpy is drinking, and then Chimpy is flinging it all for the amusement of self and friends on this here site. Let the games begin.
I'll also ponder some music, some baseball, some college basketball, and maybe the meaning of God and Self sometimes. Keep it light. And if you somehow spot yourself and your inane antics on this site, be glad...you just got your 15 minutes of crappy blog fame.
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