I'll admit, I have a weakness for well-crafted California pop-rock that reflects a love of classic rock. I can't help it. The sunny arrangements, the harmonies, the jangly electric and strummy acoustic guitars...it gets to me. Always has.
So Butch Walker's Letters is a fantastic album for me, really. The record is tight, well-crafted, and shows enough diversity to keep things interesting throughout. Butch knows how to turn a clever phrase, and the songs are chock-full of wry asides, puns, and lyrics that are saved from being saccharine by containing just enough irony. When he's ernest--and it happens quite often on this album, believe it or not--you can tell there's a sincerity to what he's singing, an honesty to it. This is, to be sure, a good thing, as it puts the sarcasm and ironic hipster pose in perspective. The man's certainly no one trick pony, that's for sure.
Musically, it's a fairly diverse offering: the aforementioned jangly guitars, strummy acoustics, the occasional piano or wurlitzer stepping forward in the mix. Occasional touches of modernism--a turntable scratch at the end of one song, various electronic blips throughout--keep things interesting, as do the range and variety of instrumentation.
Probably my favorite song on the album lyrically is "Mixtape," which features such lines as "you gave me the best mixtape I have/even the bad songs ain't so bad/I just wish there was so much more than that/about me and you." It's very poignant and funny, all at the same time.
Overall, the record has a summery, California feel to it. The songs are bounce along bouyantly, and it's hard not to hum or sing along even if you don't know the words. The surface of each song pulls you in, but repeated listens reveal layers and depth to each track, nuances that you missed the last time around. It's details like those that keep you coming back for more. Butch Walker has created a compulsively listenable record, and you owe it to yourself to seek it out and give it a try.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Butch Walker, "#1 Summer Jam"
Sunday, February 05, 2006
"My Guts Have Shit For Brains"
The poor weekend is nearly spent. I still think that, with teaching, two days off is never enough. Alas, they don't ask me what I think about our time off. Too bad, really.
Last night, Michelle and I had a John Cusack Fest of Gross Pointe Blank and High Fidelity. We were frightened that we can both quote High Fidelity almost verbatim the whole way through. We're not quite sure what this says about us as people, other than we really like the movie.
At some point tonight, I have to draw tomorrow's comic and create a quiz for the Civics class. Mine is an exciting and event-filled life, yes?
Okay, not really.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Bruce Springsteen, "Independence Day"
Last night, Michelle and I had a John Cusack Fest of Gross Pointe Blank and High Fidelity. We were frightened that we can both quote High Fidelity almost verbatim the whole way through. We're not quite sure what this says about us as people, other than we really like the movie.
At some point tonight, I have to draw tomorrow's comic and create a quiz for the Civics class. Mine is an exciting and event-filled life, yes?
Okay, not really.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Bruce Springsteen, "Independence Day"
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
"Hard To Be A Saint In The City"
So yesterday? Total shit. Complete wash. Worthless. Craptastic.
Today? Reminded me why I love teaching.
Irony? Same class was responsible for both sentiments.
See, I had a chat with the first period class this morning. I brought the Dean of Students in on it. We heard the students' concerns, I told 'em where we as their teachers were coming from, and I think we convinced all but maybe one student (who has a whole host of issues, starting with the need for a severe beating) to give our student-teacher a chance and to try to see it from her side. We've worked out a plan of action, we're dedicated to it, and I think I've got most of them solidly on my side at this point. And then they paid attention to the lesson I taught them. It was bizarre.
I also ended up teaching all the history classes today because Ms. Yasai is out every Wednesday for a class and Ms. Mandzak was also out for some reason today. Most of the classes did really well, though, and I hardly had any discipline/behavior issues. I chatted briefly with my boss, and we're probably going to see about getting some sort of permanent sub for Wednesdays, since Ms. Yasai will always be out that day. Should be beneficial.
Also got to jump into the art class this afternoon, which was a lot of fun. Any class that's combining medieval/Arthurian characters with comic strips (the idea is that they're going to construct a comic strip featuring a scene from Arthurian lore or something similar) is okay by me.
Anyway, away to bed with me. Duty calls, as per usual.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Billy Bragg, "A New England"
Today? Reminded me why I love teaching.
Irony? Same class was responsible for both sentiments.
See, I had a chat with the first period class this morning. I brought the Dean of Students in on it. We heard the students' concerns, I told 'em where we as their teachers were coming from, and I think we convinced all but maybe one student (who has a whole host of issues, starting with the need for a severe beating) to give our student-teacher a chance and to try to see it from her side. We've worked out a plan of action, we're dedicated to it, and I think I've got most of them solidly on my side at this point. And then they paid attention to the lesson I taught them. It was bizarre.
I also ended up teaching all the history classes today because Ms. Yasai is out every Wednesday for a class and Ms. Mandzak was also out for some reason today. Most of the classes did really well, though, and I hardly had any discipline/behavior issues. I chatted briefly with my boss, and we're probably going to see about getting some sort of permanent sub for Wednesdays, since Ms. Yasai will always be out that day. Should be beneficial.
Also got to jump into the art class this afternoon, which was a lot of fun. Any class that's combining medieval/Arthurian characters with comic strips (the idea is that they're going to construct a comic strip featuring a scene from Arthurian lore or something similar) is okay by me.
Anyway, away to bed with me. Duty calls, as per usual.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Billy Bragg, "A New England"
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
"Suffering From A Kind Of Indecision"
So today was not one of our better days at school.
The 8th graders...well, let's just say that if it'd been me who was the new teacher in the classroom, I'd've quit then and there. They treated our new student-teacher like shit today, and they are going to catch hell from me tomorrow because of it. They totally disrespected her the whole class period, acted more poorly than I've seen them behave in a long time, and essentially made complete asses of themselves for an hour.
So I plan on sitting them down tomorrow and having a nice, long talk. They don't realize it, but the rest of the school year can go two ways: it can be filled with interesting activities, field trips, and worthwhile educational fun; or it can be dull, dreary, mind-numbing bookwork with no fun, no interesting activities, and no freedom. Really, the choice is theirs to make. I'd be fine with lecturing to them every day, assigning massive amounts of homework, and flunking anyone who didn't do what I told them to first time. Really. I would sleep the sleep of the righteous every night, knowing that they'd brought it on themselves. Regardless, we are not going to have a repeat of today's behavior. Not if I have anything to say about it.
Beyond that, it was just a day that seemed to drag on forever. We had class this evening after work, and none of us were really up for sitting through four hours of lecture. We managed, but I'm so glad we're halfway through this cursed thing.
Tomorrow I get to start helping out in the Art class. Should be fun: two class periods every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of art, and I have to actually take solo control Wednesdays for half of it. A strange arrangement, to be sure, but I'm sure I'll manage.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Butch Walker, "Mixtape"
The 8th graders...well, let's just say that if it'd been me who was the new teacher in the classroom, I'd've quit then and there. They treated our new student-teacher like shit today, and they are going to catch hell from me tomorrow because of it. They totally disrespected her the whole class period, acted more poorly than I've seen them behave in a long time, and essentially made complete asses of themselves for an hour.
So I plan on sitting them down tomorrow and having a nice, long talk. They don't realize it, but the rest of the school year can go two ways: it can be filled with interesting activities, field trips, and worthwhile educational fun; or it can be dull, dreary, mind-numbing bookwork with no fun, no interesting activities, and no freedom. Really, the choice is theirs to make. I'd be fine with lecturing to them every day, assigning massive amounts of homework, and flunking anyone who didn't do what I told them to first time. Really. I would sleep the sleep of the righteous every night, knowing that they'd brought it on themselves. Regardless, we are not going to have a repeat of today's behavior. Not if I have anything to say about it.
Beyond that, it was just a day that seemed to drag on forever. We had class this evening after work, and none of us were really up for sitting through four hours of lecture. We managed, but I'm so glad we're halfway through this cursed thing.
Tomorrow I get to start helping out in the Art class. Should be fun: two class periods every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday of art, and I have to actually take solo control Wednesdays for half of it. A strange arrangement, to be sure, but I'm sure I'll manage.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Butch Walker, "Mixtape"
Monday, January 30, 2006
Ringo Starr - Ringo
Poor Ringo was always the least of The Beatles. He wasn't the writing genius like Lennon or McCartney, he wasn't a spiritual guru like Harrison. He was this affable little man with a big nose who had an extremely limited vocal range and who occasionally sang songs about underwater gardens and brightly-colored submarines. It's difficult to take Ringo seriously, honestly.
This isn't to say that Ringo is without his charms. He is affable, after all, and he has a certain charm to him that's hard to deny. Ringo is just so damn likeable. He's loveable, and you honestly want to see him do well. You root for Ringo.
And so when The Beatles broke up in 1970 and inevitably started releasing solo records, you knew it was only a matter of time before even Ringo jumped into it; because honestly, he's a Beatle, and Beatle = instant chance. So he put out a couple of almost noveltyish records, and then released Ringo in 1972.
The thing about Ringo? It's really pretty damn good. Ringo knows what folks want to hear from him--vaguely folky, bright, uptempo songs that are poppy, fun, and probably just a little superficial; it's what we expect of Ringo--and he delivers here. There's not really any filler on the record, which is to say that all the songs are pretty decent. There are standouts, of course: "Photograph," a song he co-wrote with George Harrison, is a fantastic number, as is his cover of "You're Sixteen." "Oh, My My" is fun, and "I'm the Greatest" (written by Lennon) is a tongue-firmly-in-cheek celebration of status, even if it's only presumed status in one's own imagination. The record maintains a consistent feel, which is that of a good time with old friends. There's nothing groundbreaking here, nothing as overwhelming as All Things Must Pass or as daring as Plastic Ono Band or as self-consciously homemade as McCartney. This is just a fun record, and it succeeds on that level very, very well.
The record also serves as an unofficial Beatles reunion of sorts. All three of Ringo's former bandmates contribute not only songs for the record but themselves: each appear on at least the track they penned, and their presence offers a legitimacy to the whole affair. Also on hand are Klaus Voormann, old Beatle pal from the Hamburg days, Billy Preseton, and The Band, who offer assistance (along with Harrison) on the excellent "Sunshine Life for Me (Sail Away Raymond)."
The CD release of the album actually manages to sweeten the deal, adding three bonus tracks--including the single "It Don't Come Easy"--to the already strong record. Really, if you have any love at all for old Ringo, this is a fantastic record (much better than...well, pretty much anything else he's released). It's a comfortable, fun, almost superficial (in the best possible sense of the word) album that it's hard not to enjoy. You'll tap your toes, you'll sing along, you'll be glad you're listening to it. Not liking it would be like not liking a puppy, and do you really want to be known as the person who doesn't like puppies?
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ringo Starr, "Six O'Clock"
This isn't to say that Ringo is without his charms. He is affable, after all, and he has a certain charm to him that's hard to deny. Ringo is just so damn likeable. He's loveable, and you honestly want to see him do well. You root for Ringo.
And so when The Beatles broke up in 1970 and inevitably started releasing solo records, you knew it was only a matter of time before even Ringo jumped into it; because honestly, he's a Beatle, and Beatle = instant chance. So he put out a couple of almost noveltyish records, and then released Ringo in 1972.
The thing about Ringo? It's really pretty damn good. Ringo knows what folks want to hear from him--vaguely folky, bright, uptempo songs that are poppy, fun, and probably just a little superficial; it's what we expect of Ringo--and he delivers here. There's not really any filler on the record, which is to say that all the songs are pretty decent. There are standouts, of course: "Photograph," a song he co-wrote with George Harrison, is a fantastic number, as is his cover of "You're Sixteen." "Oh, My My" is fun, and "I'm the Greatest" (written by Lennon) is a tongue-firmly-in-cheek celebration of status, even if it's only presumed status in one's own imagination. The record maintains a consistent feel, which is that of a good time with old friends. There's nothing groundbreaking here, nothing as overwhelming as All Things Must Pass or as daring as Plastic Ono Band or as self-consciously homemade as McCartney. This is just a fun record, and it succeeds on that level very, very well.
The record also serves as an unofficial Beatles reunion of sorts. All three of Ringo's former bandmates contribute not only songs for the record but themselves: each appear on at least the track they penned, and their presence offers a legitimacy to the whole affair. Also on hand are Klaus Voormann, old Beatle pal from the Hamburg days, Billy Preseton, and The Band, who offer assistance (along with Harrison) on the excellent "Sunshine Life for Me (Sail Away Raymond)."
The CD release of the album actually manages to sweeten the deal, adding three bonus tracks--including the single "It Don't Come Easy"--to the already strong record. Really, if you have any love at all for old Ringo, this is a fantastic record (much better than...well, pretty much anything else he's released). It's a comfortable, fun, almost superficial (in the best possible sense of the word) album that it's hard not to enjoy. You'll tap your toes, you'll sing along, you'll be glad you're listening to it. Not liking it would be like not liking a puppy, and do you really want to be known as the person who doesn't like puppies?
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ringo Starr, "Six O'Clock"
Saturday, January 28, 2006
"Looking Out On The Substitute Scene"
Spent most of yesterday at school rearranging and redocoration the classroom with our student-teacher, Ms. Yassai. She's quite an engaging person, really, which is good I suppose. She's really approaching this whole thing as a team effort, which I like, and she's just generally a swell person to be around. To say I've got a mild crush would be accurate.
We also had a school Happy Hour yesterday afternoon: booze and food on the boss! Anytime the boss is willing to buy you alcohol, accept it, I say. I mean, how often do you really have the chance to see half of your coworkers tipsy after a single drink? Not often enough, I say. I'm half-tempted to take a bottle of tequila to work on Monday (since it's another workday) and see if I can't get some blackmail material.
I've only got one parent-teacher conference scheduled for Monday, which means I've got plenty of time to figure out grades and write up my quarterly reports on all my students (well, I say "all," but really I only have to do 4th period, which is fine by me. Those quarterlies are ridiculous). We've also apparently got some sort of stupid training meeting thing that I really don't want to go to, but what can you do?
Michelle and I went to see King Kong Thursday night (which was why you didn't have a comic. Deal with it). It was a pretty decent flick. Peter Jackson has a great visual sense, though you could look at certain camera angles and techniques and say, "Gee, that wasn't lifted right out of Lord of the Rings at all." Admittedly, part of that is because it's part of his style to use those sweeping pans of the landscape (constantly), but I honestly don't think they were absolutely necessary nearly as often as he used them. Special effects were uniformly excellent, and Jack Black as a semi-serious actor actually worked, frighteningly enough. I still think you could've cut about an hour's worth of stuff from the film and not really lost anything. There were a lot of scenes that lasted longer than needed, a lot of scene setups that could've been parred down, a lot of worldbuilding that just wasn't necessary. It's 1930s America, we get it. The Hoovervilles are a nice historic touch, but totally not needed. We understand that it's the Depression, now get to the giant monkey already.
Anyway, going to Fredericksburg here in a little while. Cris is apparently having a party of some sort, so we're gonna make the trek and raise some heck (what? It rhymed. I like to rhyme sometimes). Alcohol may very well be imbibed. Uncouth jokes will most likely be told at inappropriate volumes. There may even be all sorts of hanky-panky in backrooms, though I doubt I'll have a chance to have anything to do with that. Such is my lot in life.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ringo Starr, "I'm the Greatest"
We also had a school Happy Hour yesterday afternoon: booze and food on the boss! Anytime the boss is willing to buy you alcohol, accept it, I say. I mean, how often do you really have the chance to see half of your coworkers tipsy after a single drink? Not often enough, I say. I'm half-tempted to take a bottle of tequila to work on Monday (since it's another workday) and see if I can't get some blackmail material.
I've only got one parent-teacher conference scheduled for Monday, which means I've got plenty of time to figure out grades and write up my quarterly reports on all my students (well, I say "all," but really I only have to do 4th period, which is fine by me. Those quarterlies are ridiculous). We've also apparently got some sort of stupid training meeting thing that I really don't want to go to, but what can you do?
Michelle and I went to see King Kong Thursday night (which was why you didn't have a comic. Deal with it). It was a pretty decent flick. Peter Jackson has a great visual sense, though you could look at certain camera angles and techniques and say, "Gee, that wasn't lifted right out of Lord of the Rings at all." Admittedly, part of that is because it's part of his style to use those sweeping pans of the landscape (constantly), but I honestly don't think they were absolutely necessary nearly as often as he used them. Special effects were uniformly excellent, and Jack Black as a semi-serious actor actually worked, frighteningly enough. I still think you could've cut about an hour's worth of stuff from the film and not really lost anything. There were a lot of scenes that lasted longer than needed, a lot of scene setups that could've been parred down, a lot of worldbuilding that just wasn't necessary. It's 1930s America, we get it. The Hoovervilles are a nice historic touch, but totally not needed. We understand that it's the Depression, now get to the giant monkey already.
Anyway, going to Fredericksburg here in a little while. Cris is apparently having a party of some sort, so we're gonna make the trek and raise some heck (what? It rhymed. I like to rhyme sometimes). Alcohol may very well be imbibed. Uncouth jokes will most likely be told at inappropriate volumes. There may even be all sorts of hanky-panky in backrooms, though I doubt I'll have a chance to have anything to do with that. Such is my lot in life.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ringo Starr, "I'm the Greatest"
R.K. Milholland is a Son of a Bitch
What? He is.
He's been setting us up for ages now for Fred MacIntire to come clean with his family about having Alzeihmer's, and then...this.
Dude. I knew the guy had balls and would do all sorts of cruel things to his characters, but this is almost too much. I mean, seriously, this was the last thing I expected.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ringo Starr, "Oh, My My"
He's been setting us up for ages now for Fred MacIntire to come clean with his family about having Alzeihmer's, and then...this.
Dude. I knew the guy had balls and would do all sorts of cruel things to his characters, but this is almost too much. I mean, seriously, this was the last thing I expected.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ringo Starr, "Oh, My My"
Monday, January 23, 2006
"Remind Me To Show You The Scars"
So, good developments on the work front. I found out why the director gave all the history classes to the student-teacher: it's her grade. Apparently she has to turn in so many lesson plans to earn her credit hours, and we'd rather not take those credit hours away from her just because I'm too damn prideful to let go a little. The girl (well, okay, she's maybe a year or two younger than I am, so "girl" is probably the wrong word to use) and I have an understanding, though, and we're going to treat this as an equal partnership/co-teacher situation. I'll gladly give up the tedious tasks of lesson planning and grading and all that crap if I still get to actually teach. I mean, hell, I was making most of my stuff up as I went along anyway, so now I at least have a decent reason for doing that.
I'm also going to switch from assisting in Geometry to assisting in Art next quarter (which starts next week). This seems like a much better fit for everyone involved, as God only knows how much longer I could've faked knowing anything about Geometry. Art, hell, I can fake my way through that until I fall over dead (I mean, I've managed it in the comic for ages now).
The student-teacher seems like she'll work out fairly well. She's a pleasant-enough individual, quick to smile, though a little soft spoken. I'm sure that'll change after a few weeks with our kids. Part of me is actually sad that she'll only be with us until April (mostly because it means I then have to spend the last two months of school getting the kids back under my control...just in time for school to end, of course. So it goes). Besides, she's rather cute, though I doubt that (1) she'd have any interest in me or (2) she's single.
Anyway, things're pretty good. Sounds like Vicki, my friend from the OU Writing Center, will be coming out to DC early next month for a job interview, so we're gonna try to get together a bit while she's visiting and tear up the Capitol Town a bit. Should be fun; I haven't seen Vicki since I left (of course, I haven't really seen any of my other Oklahoma friends since I left, but that's what makes the fact that one of them is coming out this direction a cause for celebration).
Dad is apparently moving up to Grove this weekend. I had a good, long talk with him about all sorts of stuff last night, mostly the way he's restructuring his accounting firm (by which I mean the old firm--Carlson & Cottrell, CPAs--no longer exists, 'cause his partner is retiring, and dad is starting a solo firm up in Grove) and what he's actually learned from this whole divorce thing (scale way the hell back on the workload. If he's taken nothing else from this whole situation, he's at least realized that part of the reason his marriage to mom fell apart was that he worked too much, too often. While this revelation may not benefit her, at least he learned the lesson). He also sounds happier than I've heard him in for quite a while, and maybe a little bit...scared, actually. He's making a very big transition--one not unakin to the one I made back in July when I moved up here--and he's making it alone. It's a pretty damn frightening thing, but he's an adult and he'll just have to deal with it. This is the path he's chosen, and I think he realizes that, so he's just going to walk it and see what happens.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Radiohead, "Go to Sleep"
I'm also going to switch from assisting in Geometry to assisting in Art next quarter (which starts next week). This seems like a much better fit for everyone involved, as God only knows how much longer I could've faked knowing anything about Geometry. Art, hell, I can fake my way through that until I fall over dead (I mean, I've managed it in the comic for ages now).
The student-teacher seems like she'll work out fairly well. She's a pleasant-enough individual, quick to smile, though a little soft spoken. I'm sure that'll change after a few weeks with our kids. Part of me is actually sad that she'll only be with us until April (mostly because it means I then have to spend the last two months of school getting the kids back under my control...just in time for school to end, of course. So it goes). Besides, she's rather cute, though I doubt that (1) she'd have any interest in me or (2) she's single.
Anyway, things're pretty good. Sounds like Vicki, my friend from the OU Writing Center, will be coming out to DC early next month for a job interview, so we're gonna try to get together a bit while she's visiting and tear up the Capitol Town a bit. Should be fun; I haven't seen Vicki since I left (of course, I haven't really seen any of my other Oklahoma friends since I left, but that's what makes the fact that one of them is coming out this direction a cause for celebration).
Dad is apparently moving up to Grove this weekend. I had a good, long talk with him about all sorts of stuff last night, mostly the way he's restructuring his accounting firm (by which I mean the old firm--Carlson & Cottrell, CPAs--no longer exists, 'cause his partner is retiring, and dad is starting a solo firm up in Grove) and what he's actually learned from this whole divorce thing (scale way the hell back on the workload. If he's taken nothing else from this whole situation, he's at least realized that part of the reason his marriage to mom fell apart was that he worked too much, too often. While this revelation may not benefit her, at least he learned the lesson). He also sounds happier than I've heard him in for quite a while, and maybe a little bit...scared, actually. He's making a very big transition--one not unakin to the one I made back in July when I moved up here--and he's making it alone. It's a pretty damn frightening thing, but he's an adult and he'll just have to deal with it. This is the path he's chosen, and I think he realizes that, so he's just going to walk it and see what happens.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Radiohead, "Go to Sleep"
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
"Does Whatever A Spider Can"
Apparently, having the comparable strength, speed, and agility of a spider isn't enough...in Japan, Spiderman also has a giant mech.
Though to be honest, if I were Spiderman, I'd want my own giant mech, too. Hell, I'm just plain ol' Chuck, and I want a mech.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Moxy Fruvous, "Spiderman"
Though to be honest, if I were Spiderman, I'd want my own giant mech, too. Hell, I'm just plain ol' Chuck, and I want a mech.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Moxy Fruvous, "Spiderman"
"Rain On The Scarecrow, Blood On The Plow"
So the first day back after a three-day weekend is always kind of rough. The students are a little more wound-up than usual, it's not very easy to get anything taught, and you basically spend the day fighting them for their attention.
Add to this an assembly that threw off the entire day's schedule (meaning we only had thirty minutes each for 2nd through 7th periods and over an hour total with first period), a new student-teacher/co-teacher in the history classes, and no structured lesson plans...folks, I was ready to quit today, let me tell you.
Which is sad, 'cause I've got so many good and fun things planned for these classes. It turns out the student-teacher won't be totally taking over everything. We're apparently supposed to work as a team, trading off duties and working cooperatively to create the lessons and manage the classroom. How well that will work in practice, I don't yet know. I know I will be doing the lesson planning for at least the rest of the week (already got it figured out, too), and possibly on into next week. I still really don't want to give up the US/VA History class. I'll gladly let her take the lead in the Civics class. Hell, she can have it for all I care. They were little demons this morning, and I think they might've scared the new student-teacher more than a little. It's probably for the best that she won't be there tomorrow because of the class she's taking that meets every Wednesday (wow, though, that's really poor scheduling on someone's part).
I had phone trouble all evening. This happened last week, too: when I came out of my education class, my phone said "analog roaming." Actually, it didn't say anything, 'cause it was dead. Which is odd, since I'd had close to a full charge not three or four hours earlier. It did this to me last Tuesday, too. I have this suspicion that there's some sort of bizarre electrical interference where the school that I'm taking my class is, and that it just does something weird to my phone. Calls from my brothers (who're both programmed into my phone) were coming up as "unavailable." Anytime I wanted to answer the phone or make a call, it would ask me if I would accept the roaming fee first (I decided not to answer or make any calls until this all cleared up as a result. I'm not getting saddled with a fee when I'm in my freakin' calling area. Hell, I was still in my area code, even. That's just absurd).
Anyway, long story short, I'm going to the Sprint Store tomorrow to ask them what the deal is. I might end up with a new phone in the deal...which'll make me sad, in a way. I like my current phone, with its Crooked Halo motif on the back. Who else has that on their phone, y'know?
~chuck
Song of the Moment: John Mellencamp, "Farewell, Angelina"
Add to this an assembly that threw off the entire day's schedule (meaning we only had thirty minutes each for 2nd through 7th periods and over an hour total with first period), a new student-teacher/co-teacher in the history classes, and no structured lesson plans...folks, I was ready to quit today, let me tell you.
Which is sad, 'cause I've got so many good and fun things planned for these classes. It turns out the student-teacher won't be totally taking over everything. We're apparently supposed to work as a team, trading off duties and working cooperatively to create the lessons and manage the classroom. How well that will work in practice, I don't yet know. I know I will be doing the lesson planning for at least the rest of the week (already got it figured out, too), and possibly on into next week. I still really don't want to give up the US/VA History class. I'll gladly let her take the lead in the Civics class. Hell, she can have it for all I care. They were little demons this morning, and I think they might've scared the new student-teacher more than a little. It's probably for the best that she won't be there tomorrow because of the class she's taking that meets every Wednesday (wow, though, that's really poor scheduling on someone's part).
I had phone trouble all evening. This happened last week, too: when I came out of my education class, my phone said "analog roaming." Actually, it didn't say anything, 'cause it was dead. Which is odd, since I'd had close to a full charge not three or four hours earlier. It did this to me last Tuesday, too. I have this suspicion that there's some sort of bizarre electrical interference where the school that I'm taking my class is, and that it just does something weird to my phone. Calls from my brothers (who're both programmed into my phone) were coming up as "unavailable." Anytime I wanted to answer the phone or make a call, it would ask me if I would accept the roaming fee first (I decided not to answer or make any calls until this all cleared up as a result. I'm not getting saddled with a fee when I'm in my freakin' calling area. Hell, I was still in my area code, even. That's just absurd).
Anyway, long story short, I'm going to the Sprint Store tomorrow to ask them what the deal is. I might end up with a new phone in the deal...which'll make me sad, in a way. I like my current phone, with its Crooked Halo motif on the back. Who else has that on their phone, y'know?
~chuck
Song of the Moment: John Mellencamp, "Farewell, Angelina"
Friday, January 13, 2006
The Rolling Stones - A Bigger Bang
I should have bought this album earlier, I really should. I should have listened to the critical praise it was getting, heeded the advice of wiser minds than my own. I shouldn't have doubted the power of the Stones, but I did.
The upshot, of course, is that I get to be extremely surprised and pleased with a CD I came into with only middling expectations. The record is a compulsive listen; it creeps into your skin and hides out, digging deeper in with each spin, until it has engratiated itself so much that you can't stop listening to it.
It's hard to put your finger on just what it is about this record that makes it so good. Lyrically, musically, it's pretty much what the Stones have done for years and years and years: solid rhythm, hooky riffs, swagger and sneer and tongue firmly planted in cheek. The trick here, I think, is that the Stones aren't trying so hard this time out. They're not trying to be the biggest rock'n'roll band on earth, they simply are the biggest rock'n'roll band on earth. The swagger is genuine, the music is loose and natural, and nothing feels forced or tired. These 16 songs are all in forms and styles that the Stones have been playing for the past thirty or more years, but it never feels tired or old. There's a vigor to this music, a renewed sense of purpose that hasn't been present in the Stones' work in a long, long time.
If none of the tracks particularly stand above the rest, it's not because none of them are any good, but because every single song is uniformly strong. Every track has something to recommend it. There are tough rockers, barrelhouse country blues, moving ballads, and everything you'd expect from the Stones. Keith Richards even takes a couple of vocals, sounding for all the world like Tom Waits (I mean this in a good way: for a man who looks and sounds--when he talks, anyway--like a corpse, he can actually sing halfway well).
All in all, it's nice to see the Stones reinvigorated after middling (or even downright awful) previous efforts. I mean, Bridges to Babylon was okay as far as efforts to contemporize the Stones' sound, but it wasn't that strong of a record. Really, nothing they've made since the early '80s (and that's being generous) has been all that strong. A Bigger Bang definitely proves that they've still got something to say and can still say it in an engaging, consuming way.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Rolling Stones, "This Place is Empty"
The upshot, of course, is that I get to be extremely surprised and pleased with a CD I came into with only middling expectations. The record is a compulsive listen; it creeps into your skin and hides out, digging deeper in with each spin, until it has engratiated itself so much that you can't stop listening to it.
It's hard to put your finger on just what it is about this record that makes it so good. Lyrically, musically, it's pretty much what the Stones have done for years and years and years: solid rhythm, hooky riffs, swagger and sneer and tongue firmly planted in cheek. The trick here, I think, is that the Stones aren't trying so hard this time out. They're not trying to be the biggest rock'n'roll band on earth, they simply are the biggest rock'n'roll band on earth. The swagger is genuine, the music is loose and natural, and nothing feels forced or tired. These 16 songs are all in forms and styles that the Stones have been playing for the past thirty or more years, but it never feels tired or old. There's a vigor to this music, a renewed sense of purpose that hasn't been present in the Stones' work in a long, long time.
If none of the tracks particularly stand above the rest, it's not because none of them are any good, but because every single song is uniformly strong. Every track has something to recommend it. There are tough rockers, barrelhouse country blues, moving ballads, and everything you'd expect from the Stones. Keith Richards even takes a couple of vocals, sounding for all the world like Tom Waits (I mean this in a good way: for a man who looks and sounds--when he talks, anyway--like a corpse, he can actually sing halfway well).
All in all, it's nice to see the Stones reinvigorated after middling (or even downright awful) previous efforts. I mean, Bridges to Babylon was okay as far as efforts to contemporize the Stones' sound, but it wasn't that strong of a record. Really, nothing they've made since the early '80s (and that's being generous) has been all that strong. A Bigger Bang definitely proves that they've still got something to say and can still say it in an engaging, consuming way.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Rolling Stones, "This Place is Empty"
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
"Smother People To Death Inside Of Holler Logs"
I did something very adult-like tonight: I signed up for my own car insurance.
I've been on my parents' car insurance since I was able to drive. It was one of the deals they made with me when I started driving: keep the grades up, we'll keep your car going. As I went on to college, it was a way of guaranteeing that I wouldn't have to get a full-time job just to make ends meet. As I've grown older, I've just stayed on their insurance because...well, I was in grad school, I wasn't able to work full time still, and it just made more sense.
Now, though...now, I'm on my own. Completely. I have cut all the purse strings between myself and the folks. Granted, it's not like I'm completely financially independent even now. If it weren't for Wendy and Tim, I'd be living in a cardboard box down by the school (or in the school, even). Lord knows I can't afford to live here by myself (especially with the crappy pay that comes with my job), but I'm still more independent than I ever have been before.
This might seem sad when you consider that I'm twenty-five and just now breaking away from mommy and daddy. Well, if you think that, screw you. They were just being helpful, and God knows I wasn't in any profession that was going to net me big bucks. I've been a tutor and a teacher, neither of which are high up there on the great ladder of decent-paying jobs.
Now, if I could get a job in the public schools, that'd maybe be a different matter...
Anyway, it was kind of interesting to think about, really. I mean, here I was, signing up for car insurance. Something of a rite of passage for me, I guess. I'm sure there are more important rites of passage, but this one was pretty big for me. Cars are an important symbol, I think. Of course, that might be because I've listened to so much popular music and seen so many movies (look at American Grafitti, for instance). The car is a symbol of freedom, of power, of responsibility and control. A car is a ton or two of steel and fiberglass and internal combustion power that grants you the ability to go where you want, when you want, in a way that a bicycle never could. I've felt that way about cars for a long time. When I had a car accident my junior year of college, no one could understand why it upset me so much. I'd messed up my car, so what? It was being fixed, no worries. Except it was a worry to me. I had to rely on someone else to go anywhere or do anything. I didn't have that freedom or control of my own destiny. It was taken from me by a split second's slip of concentration, and that disturbed me greatly. Not having my car for those couple of months felt very restrictive.
Now, Ev might remind me that having a car is a luxury, not a right. And it's true: having a car is definitely a privilege, and not one that everyone is lucky enough to have. I know this. But we have a tendency to make the miraculous seem mundane, to make gifts seem like birthrights. You get used to having a certain amount of mobility and freedom...and it's taken from you. Like having your legs knocked out from under you, or having the entire lower half of your body go numb and limp.
Anyway, I have insurance now. My own insurance. It's a fairly powerful feeling, really. I just wish it didn't cost so damn much.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Billy Bragg & Wilco, "Meanest Man"
I've been on my parents' car insurance since I was able to drive. It was one of the deals they made with me when I started driving: keep the grades up, we'll keep your car going. As I went on to college, it was a way of guaranteeing that I wouldn't have to get a full-time job just to make ends meet. As I've grown older, I've just stayed on their insurance because...well, I was in grad school, I wasn't able to work full time still, and it just made more sense.
Now, though...now, I'm on my own. Completely. I have cut all the purse strings between myself and the folks. Granted, it's not like I'm completely financially independent even now. If it weren't for Wendy and Tim, I'd be living in a cardboard box down by the school (or in the school, even). Lord knows I can't afford to live here by myself (especially with the crappy pay that comes with my job), but I'm still more independent than I ever have been before.
This might seem sad when you consider that I'm twenty-five and just now breaking away from mommy and daddy. Well, if you think that, screw you. They were just being helpful, and God knows I wasn't in any profession that was going to net me big bucks. I've been a tutor and a teacher, neither of which are high up there on the great ladder of decent-paying jobs.
Now, if I could get a job in the public schools, that'd maybe be a different matter...
Anyway, it was kind of interesting to think about, really. I mean, here I was, signing up for car insurance. Something of a rite of passage for me, I guess. I'm sure there are more important rites of passage, but this one was pretty big for me. Cars are an important symbol, I think. Of course, that might be because I've listened to so much popular music and seen so many movies (look at American Grafitti, for instance). The car is a symbol of freedom, of power, of responsibility and control. A car is a ton or two of steel and fiberglass and internal combustion power that grants you the ability to go where you want, when you want, in a way that a bicycle never could. I've felt that way about cars for a long time. When I had a car accident my junior year of college, no one could understand why it upset me so much. I'd messed up my car, so what? It was being fixed, no worries. Except it was a worry to me. I had to rely on someone else to go anywhere or do anything. I didn't have that freedom or control of my own destiny. It was taken from me by a split second's slip of concentration, and that disturbed me greatly. Not having my car for those couple of months felt very restrictive.
Now, Ev might remind me that having a car is a luxury, not a right. And it's true: having a car is definitely a privilege, and not one that everyone is lucky enough to have. I know this. But we have a tendency to make the miraculous seem mundane, to make gifts seem like birthrights. You get used to having a certain amount of mobility and freedom...and it's taken from you. Like having your legs knocked out from under you, or having the entire lower half of your body go numb and limp.
Anyway, I have insurance now. My own insurance. It's a fairly powerful feeling, really. I just wish it didn't cost so damn much.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Billy Bragg & Wilco, "Meanest Man"
"Waiting On A Factory Girl"
So, interesting news from the work front:
Someone new will be showing up next Tuesday, a student teacher for the history classes. This in and of itself is no big deal, except for the way the administration is presenting the situation.
They're making it sound as though she'll be in charge of the history classes.
Now, when I was hired by this school, I was told I and the other teaching assistant would be taking over the history and English classes when the teachers of those two subjects went on maternity leave and that we'd get assistants of our own when that happened.
What they did in English, though, was rehire an old English teacher to lead those classes, and now they're hiring a student teacher to lead the history classes.
The other co-teacher and I are up in arms about this. We've already developed a rapport with the students, we've been in there since September, we know where the kids are, what they respond to, etc. More than anything else, we were told this was how it would work. This is how the original history and English teachers were told it would be. It's how we've told the students it would be. They're almost as upset about it as we are. They've got a natural aversion to sudden change anyway, and they can't understand why--if the other assistant teacher and I are already in the history and English classes--we need anyone else in there in the first place, let alone someone who is going to take over the class. It was kinda touching in a way when the 8th graders threw a fit about it this morning.
Tonight I start my first class for my certification. The first class was technically last Tuesday, but no one bothered to tell me that...or where the class tonight is...or when it starts...
I'm starting to think public school sounds better and better.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Rolling Stones, "Rough Justice"
Someone new will be showing up next Tuesday, a student teacher for the history classes. This in and of itself is no big deal, except for the way the administration is presenting the situation.
They're making it sound as though she'll be in charge of the history classes.
Now, when I was hired by this school, I was told I and the other teaching assistant would be taking over the history and English classes when the teachers of those two subjects went on maternity leave and that we'd get assistants of our own when that happened.
What they did in English, though, was rehire an old English teacher to lead those classes, and now they're hiring a student teacher to lead the history classes.
The other co-teacher and I are up in arms about this. We've already developed a rapport with the students, we've been in there since September, we know where the kids are, what they respond to, etc. More than anything else, we were told this was how it would work. This is how the original history and English teachers were told it would be. It's how we've told the students it would be. They're almost as upset about it as we are. They've got a natural aversion to sudden change anyway, and they can't understand why--if the other assistant teacher and I are already in the history and English classes--we need anyone else in there in the first place, let alone someone who is going to take over the class. It was kinda touching in a way when the 8th graders threw a fit about it this morning.
Tonight I start my first class for my certification. The first class was technically last Tuesday, but no one bothered to tell me that...or where the class tonight is...or when it starts...
I'm starting to think public school sounds better and better.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Rolling Stones, "Rough Justice"
Monday, January 09, 2006
"But Every Junkie's Like A Setting Sun"
I went running tonight for the first time in...well, probably over a year, to be honest. The last time I remember making an active effort to run was Thanksgiving of 2004, when I went to the Turkey Trot in Oklahoma City with Clif and dad. I ran the one mile race while they did the 5K, and my time was something like 10 minutes for a single mile. There was a time--shortly after Clif and I returned home from Yellowstone 3 1/2 years ago (God, has it really been that long?)--that I could run a mile in 7.20. I sometimes wonder what happened to that version of me, the one who was motivated and enthusiastic and ready to jump into everything, even if it was grad school in Oklahoma (anyone who's read for awhile knows I really didn't want to be there). I was...well, happy, I guess. Not completely and totally happy, but close enough.
Though it's not that I'm unhappy now. I mean, I may have some things I'd like to change--my weight, my ability to actually get off my ass and do what I need to do--but I like where I am in a lot of ways. I enjoy my job (on the good days; I tend to get frustrated on the bad days because I know the good days can be so rewarding), I like my roommates, I've got some friends in the area, and I seem to be on fairly good terms with pretty much everyone at the moment.
So why does it sometimes feel like I'm miserable?
A large part of it--no pun intended--is probably very likely my weight. It's always been a sticking point with me. It's no secret that I have a very negative self-body image. I'm comfortable in my own skin, just not in the extra pounds of fat between said skin and my organs. The solution, of course, is to work it all off: go running, eat right, etc. And I pledge to do that, and I do for a day or two, maybe even a week, and then I slack off again. It's terrible. Consistency is the key, I know, but it's also the catch: if I'm not consistent, nothing will come of it.
I'm hoping this time will be different, I really am. It'd be nice for all my pants to fit. It'd be nice to not be disgusted by what I see in the mirror. It'd be nice not to have to worry about looking like I have no chin if I shave my goatee off. It'd be nice.
But part of what I'm doing this time is getting others to join me in my efforts. Tim went running tonight as well, and his jog was actually the motivation behind my getting up and going: I wasn't about to be outdone by him. He may not be overweight like I am, but I know I'm capable of running. I've done it before, and I'll do it again, dammit. It's that competitve spirit my family seems to have that I sometimes feel twinges of, and it's not always a bad thing.
Anyway, here's to consistent effort and not falling off the wagon again. Or maybe falling off the wagon, 'cause then I'd have to run to catch back up to it.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Rolling Stones, "Sweet Neo-Con"
Though it's not that I'm unhappy now. I mean, I may have some things I'd like to change--my weight, my ability to actually get off my ass and do what I need to do--but I like where I am in a lot of ways. I enjoy my job (on the good days; I tend to get frustrated on the bad days because I know the good days can be so rewarding), I like my roommates, I've got some friends in the area, and I seem to be on fairly good terms with pretty much everyone at the moment.
So why does it sometimes feel like I'm miserable?
A large part of it--no pun intended--is probably very likely my weight. It's always been a sticking point with me. It's no secret that I have a very negative self-body image. I'm comfortable in my own skin, just not in the extra pounds of fat between said skin and my organs. The solution, of course, is to work it all off: go running, eat right, etc. And I pledge to do that, and I do for a day or two, maybe even a week, and then I slack off again. It's terrible. Consistency is the key, I know, but it's also the catch: if I'm not consistent, nothing will come of it.
I'm hoping this time will be different, I really am. It'd be nice for all my pants to fit. It'd be nice to not be disgusted by what I see in the mirror. It'd be nice not to have to worry about looking like I have no chin if I shave my goatee off. It'd be nice.
But part of what I'm doing this time is getting others to join me in my efforts. Tim went running tonight as well, and his jog was actually the motivation behind my getting up and going: I wasn't about to be outdone by him. He may not be overweight like I am, but I know I'm capable of running. I've done it before, and I'll do it again, dammit. It's that competitve spirit my family seems to have that I sometimes feel twinges of, and it's not always a bad thing.
Anyway, here's to consistent effort and not falling off the wagon again. Or maybe falling off the wagon, 'cause then I'd have to run to catch back up to it.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Rolling Stones, "Sweet Neo-Con"
Saturday, January 07, 2006
"They Might Be Giants Got Lost Driving Around"
So I went up to Maryland last night with Michelle and Chad to visit Dav, whom I haven't seen in like three years. I left Michelle in charge of navigating, which turned out to be a problem when the first half of Dav's directions were something to the effect of "go to Maryland, cross the bridge." What should have been about a 45 minute trip took about twice that, what with the getting lost, going the wrong direction several times, etc.
The trip back was even worse. We had Dav draw us a map to get us back home, but the map only got us as far as DC. Well, Michelle always takes the Metro into DC, as does Chad I guess, and I've only been to DC about twice and don't really know my way around. It took us two hours to get home, an hour and a half of which was spent trying to navigate through DC because I couldn't figure out how to get around on the Beltway and assumed that cutting through town would be easier on me. God, was I wrong. I finally rolled into the apartment complex at 5.15 am, much later than I'd anticipated.
The time between these two driving adventures, though, was quite fun. We somehow ended up spending most of the evening discussing comic books, which didn't seem to bother anyone. Some alcohol was imbibed, some pizza was eaten, and a splendid time was had by all. Next time, though, I think I'm just gonna get my directions from MapQuest.
As a result of last night's rather lengthy car trip, I slept in really late today. I finally dragged myself out of bed around 2.00 pm, sat around watching Batman: The Animated Series for a few hours (the last couple of discs of the fourth volume, which were much better than I thought they'd be, given that Volume 4 was all the revamped series. But I guess when you've got the same writers and folks behind the show, it means the show can remain good, even if the art is streamlined a little more). I'm kinda sad that I don't have anymore left to watch now, though not so sad that I want to seek out the atrocious new The Batman that they've got running on TV right now. I mean, you gotta have standards, and by all reports, the new show is a steaming pile of feces designed to make a buck rather than tell a compelling story.
On the positive side, Michelle dropped by and loaned me the Aeon Flux series DVD collection, so I can relive some more of my childhood watching that (I had a childhood filled with cartoons, what can I say? Liquid Television, the show that Aeon Flux was on, totally blew my mind when I saw it all those years ago. At the time, I didn't know you could do stuff like that with animation. My more experienced older self knows you can do a hell of a lot with animation now, but I feel Aeon Flux will remind me that knowing something like that and being able to believe what you're seeing anyway can be two very different things). My one fear is that watching the show will make me want to go see that wretched movie, but I doubt that'll happen. I mean, from what Michelle told me, they've altered the characters and plot and world that it all happened in so much that it should have a completely different name, 'cause it's certainly not Aeon Flux. It's amazing how Hollywood can take a masterfully-done series about political intrigue, sexuality, identity, good and evil, and the fine line between morality and dogma, and create something that bears no resemblence to the source material. Remarkable, really. They took something original and made it a shitty generic b-level sci-fi flick.
Tomorrow, Wen wants us to visit some church here in town that we might start attending. From what she's said, it's a nice enough little place. Guess I'll find out tomorrow.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Foo Fighters, "Cold Day in the Sun"
The trip back was even worse. We had Dav draw us a map to get us back home, but the map only got us as far as DC. Well, Michelle always takes the Metro into DC, as does Chad I guess, and I've only been to DC about twice and don't really know my way around. It took us two hours to get home, an hour and a half of which was spent trying to navigate through DC because I couldn't figure out how to get around on the Beltway and assumed that cutting through town would be easier on me. God, was I wrong. I finally rolled into the apartment complex at 5.15 am, much later than I'd anticipated.
The time between these two driving adventures, though, was quite fun. We somehow ended up spending most of the evening discussing comic books, which didn't seem to bother anyone. Some alcohol was imbibed, some pizza was eaten, and a splendid time was had by all. Next time, though, I think I'm just gonna get my directions from MapQuest.
As a result of last night's rather lengthy car trip, I slept in really late today. I finally dragged myself out of bed around 2.00 pm, sat around watching Batman: The Animated Series for a few hours (the last couple of discs of the fourth volume, which were much better than I thought they'd be, given that Volume 4 was all the revamped series. But I guess when you've got the same writers and folks behind the show, it means the show can remain good, even if the art is streamlined a little more). I'm kinda sad that I don't have anymore left to watch now, though not so sad that I want to seek out the atrocious new The Batman that they've got running on TV right now. I mean, you gotta have standards, and by all reports, the new show is a steaming pile of feces designed to make a buck rather than tell a compelling story.
On the positive side, Michelle dropped by and loaned me the Aeon Flux series DVD collection, so I can relive some more of my childhood watching that (I had a childhood filled with cartoons, what can I say? Liquid Television, the show that Aeon Flux was on, totally blew my mind when I saw it all those years ago. At the time, I didn't know you could do stuff like that with animation. My more experienced older self knows you can do a hell of a lot with animation now, but I feel Aeon Flux will remind me that knowing something like that and being able to believe what you're seeing anyway can be two very different things). My one fear is that watching the show will make me want to go see that wretched movie, but I doubt that'll happen. I mean, from what Michelle told me, they've altered the characters and plot and world that it all happened in so much that it should have a completely different name, 'cause it's certainly not Aeon Flux. It's amazing how Hollywood can take a masterfully-done series about political intrigue, sexuality, identity, good and evil, and the fine line between morality and dogma, and create something that bears no resemblence to the source material. Remarkable, really. They took something original and made it a shitty generic b-level sci-fi flick.
Tomorrow, Wen wants us to visit some church here in town that we might start attending. From what she's said, it's a nice enough little place. Guess I'll find out tomorrow.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Foo Fighters, "Cold Day in the Sun"
Monday, January 02, 2006
Ryan Adams - 29
Ryan Adams is a prolific songwriter. He also has a tendency to release every single musical whim he conceives, which might explain the concept album duo of Rock'n'Roll and Love is Hell in 2003 and the trio of albums--Cold Roses, Jacksonville City Nights, and 29--he released in 2005.
Each of his albums in 2005 seemed to be a retreat into older and more basic musical styles. The double-disc Cold Roses was a return to the alt-country of his Whiskeytown days; Jacksonville City Nights was a further retreat into straight-up classic Bakersfield country. His third release of the year, 29, digs even deeper into the primordial soup of Americana, exploring folk, a bit of rockabilly, and country blues roots. In a way, it's like Adams's own version of Nebraska, a stark, monocromatic affair that feels like a late night inside a whiskey bottle.
However, the Nebraska comparison is rather misleading. Springsteen's haunting 1980 masterpiece was a solo effort; just the Boss with a guitar, harmonica, and 4-track tape recorder in his bedroom. Minimal overdubs (things like the mandolin in "Atlantic City," adding his own vocal harmonies, etc.), but everything was Springsteen. Ryan Adams usually has at least Ethan Johns (who also produces) playing with him on every track, and they each usually play two or three instruments. Adams layers in two or three guitars, maybe a piano, while Johns adds bass, drums, and other guitarwork. One song--"Blue Sky Blues"--features cellos and a trombone, even. So while these songs feel more skeletal than even most of the songs on Nebraska did, there's more involved in each track. Nebraska was an off-the-cuff solo recording because that's what it needed to be. The songs on that record don't work in the context of a full band, and so there's a simplicity, a stripped-down approach to them that works because that's what the songs demand. But with 29, you get the feeling that this--like so much else that Adams does--is an affectation, a style he is playing in not because the songs need that treatment, but because he likes to show off his knowledge of rock and roll history and of genre. This is, like virtually every album Adams has ever released, a genre exercise. And while he does indeed know these genres very well and can play convincingly within them, you can't help but wish he'd find a voice that belongs to him rather than someone else.
All that being said, is 29 a good album? Yes, on its own terms. It's decidedly not the best album that Adams has ever released, and it could definitely have done with some serious editing (I mean, the faux-tango of "The Sadness" is just unnecessary, and "29" is a straight-up rip off of The Grateful Dead's "Truckin'," though at least it's done fairly well). The nine songs on this record seem to drag for longer than they need to, and the lyrics are too word heavy. "Strawberry Wine," for instance, is one of the strongest songs on the record, but could have done with being about two minutes and a couple of verses shorter than it was. You get the feeling that Adams was either (a) making the songs up off the top of his head or (b) suffered from serious blunt trauma which rendered him incapable of knowing when a song should be over or how many words to cram into a single song. Honestly, there are some decent tracks on here--"29," for all its lack of originiality, is at least interesting and fun, and "Strawberry Wine," Carolina Rain," and "Voices" (which suffers from a few too many vocal tics to be a truly excellent song) are fairly strong--but most of it feels like filler. It's strange, since Adams surely didn't need to worry about recording more to fulfill some sort of contractual obligation (I mean, this is his third album of the year. He released 41 tracks over four discs. Surely he was, if anything, ahead of the game). With strong song selection and fuller arrangements, this could have been a fantastic album. As it is, 29 turns out to be a relatively weak record from someone whom we know can do better.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ryan Adams, "Carolina Rain"
Each of his albums in 2005 seemed to be a retreat into older and more basic musical styles. The double-disc Cold Roses was a return to the alt-country of his Whiskeytown days; Jacksonville City Nights was a further retreat into straight-up classic Bakersfield country. His third release of the year, 29, digs even deeper into the primordial soup of Americana, exploring folk, a bit of rockabilly, and country blues roots. In a way, it's like Adams's own version of Nebraska, a stark, monocromatic affair that feels like a late night inside a whiskey bottle.
However, the Nebraska comparison is rather misleading. Springsteen's haunting 1980 masterpiece was a solo effort; just the Boss with a guitar, harmonica, and 4-track tape recorder in his bedroom. Minimal overdubs (things like the mandolin in "Atlantic City," adding his own vocal harmonies, etc.), but everything was Springsteen. Ryan Adams usually has at least Ethan Johns (who also produces) playing with him on every track, and they each usually play two or three instruments. Adams layers in two or three guitars, maybe a piano, while Johns adds bass, drums, and other guitarwork. One song--"Blue Sky Blues"--features cellos and a trombone, even. So while these songs feel more skeletal than even most of the songs on Nebraska did, there's more involved in each track. Nebraska was an off-the-cuff solo recording because that's what it needed to be. The songs on that record don't work in the context of a full band, and so there's a simplicity, a stripped-down approach to them that works because that's what the songs demand. But with 29, you get the feeling that this--like so much else that Adams does--is an affectation, a style he is playing in not because the songs need that treatment, but because he likes to show off his knowledge of rock and roll history and of genre. This is, like virtually every album Adams has ever released, a genre exercise. And while he does indeed know these genres very well and can play convincingly within them, you can't help but wish he'd find a voice that belongs to him rather than someone else.
All that being said, is 29 a good album? Yes, on its own terms. It's decidedly not the best album that Adams has ever released, and it could definitely have done with some serious editing (I mean, the faux-tango of "The Sadness" is just unnecessary, and "29" is a straight-up rip off of The Grateful Dead's "Truckin'," though at least it's done fairly well). The nine songs on this record seem to drag for longer than they need to, and the lyrics are too word heavy. "Strawberry Wine," for instance, is one of the strongest songs on the record, but could have done with being about two minutes and a couple of verses shorter than it was. You get the feeling that Adams was either (a) making the songs up off the top of his head or (b) suffered from serious blunt trauma which rendered him incapable of knowing when a song should be over or how many words to cram into a single song. Honestly, there are some decent tracks on here--"29," for all its lack of originiality, is at least interesting and fun, and "Strawberry Wine," Carolina Rain," and "Voices" (which suffers from a few too many vocal tics to be a truly excellent song) are fairly strong--but most of it feels like filler. It's strange, since Adams surely didn't need to worry about recording more to fulfill some sort of contractual obligation (I mean, this is his third album of the year. He released 41 tracks over four discs. Surely he was, if anything, ahead of the game). With strong song selection and fuller arrangements, this could have been a fantastic album. As it is, 29 turns out to be a relatively weak record from someone whom we know can do better.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ryan Adams, "Carolina Rain"
"Using Ideas As My Maps"
Today is the last day of freedom before I return to teaching. I used the first half of it sleeping, because apparently I decided not to go to bed last night until about 4.00 am. The rest of this week is going to suck in that respect: no more sleeping in, no more late nights. I went and totally ruined my sleep pattern in the space of a single week.
I'm going to take some time this afternoon to get some lesson plans worked up for the next couple of weeks of school (getting ahead never hurt anyone) and try to get some more of Crooked Halo - The Musical! scripted out so I can post the first musical number on Wednesday. I'm still not quite sure how I'm going to show it's a musical--none of the lyrics I've written are actually to any tune or anything except in my head and I don't know how to translate that to the comic--but I think I've got a few rather entertaining songs ready. At least three or four are already started, I have ideas for two or three more, and this could be some sort of major undertaking. Ah well. It amuses the hell out of me, and we established long ago that I don't do anything that doesn't amuse me.
Later on this afternoon I'm going to watch some Aeon Flux with Michelle. No, not the crappy generic sci-fi movie version, but the old-school MTV cartoon. Y'know, the interesting one. So I should probably also clean up my room a little at some point, 'cause I've got lots of (albeit clean) laundry lying around all over the place.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Alison Krauss and Union Station, "Pastures of Plenty"
I'm going to take some time this afternoon to get some lesson plans worked up for the next couple of weeks of school (getting ahead never hurt anyone) and try to get some more of Crooked Halo - The Musical! scripted out so I can post the first musical number on Wednesday. I'm still not quite sure how I'm going to show it's a musical--none of the lyrics I've written are actually to any tune or anything except in my head and I don't know how to translate that to the comic--but I think I've got a few rather entertaining songs ready. At least three or four are already started, I have ideas for two or three more, and this could be some sort of major undertaking. Ah well. It amuses the hell out of me, and we established long ago that I don't do anything that doesn't amuse me.
Later on this afternoon I'm going to watch some Aeon Flux with Michelle. No, not the crappy generic sci-fi movie version, but the old-school MTV cartoon. Y'know, the interesting one. So I should probably also clean up my room a little at some point, 'cause I've got lots of (albeit clean) laundry lying around all over the place.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Alison Krauss and Union Station, "Pastures of Plenty"
Saturday, December 31, 2005
"It's The End Of The [Year] As We Know It"
Well, 2005 doesn't have much life left in it. I'm getting ready to head out for a party with a few of my friends, so when next I post, it'll be 2006.
This year ended on a weird note, a rather surreal moment that drove home the fact that my life has completely and totally altered. Even if I fail out here in Virginia and have to return to Oklahoma, it won't be the same. Dad told me this afternoon that he went down to the courthouse yesterday afternoon and got the divorce between he and my mother finalized. They are now no longer legally married.
And it's funny, though not ha-ha funny: it didn't really bother me, per se. I mean, sure, it bothered me. My parents are irrevocably divorced, and there's no way mom'll go back to dad even if one or both of them wanted it. A part of my life ended today with the old year, just as a part of theirs is now over. I think, deep down, they both still love each other deeply; hell, they've both said as much to me on separate occasions. They just...drifted. I think my father has made this bizarre effort to isolate himself from anyone and everyone. All he does is work.
The frightening thing is...I can feel myself do something similar. I know I have his tendency to shut myself off from everyone else. Admittedly, I'm not anywhere near as much a workaholic as he is, but I do have his tendency to throw myself into whatever project I'm working on rather than facing what's bothering me.
It's a fine line to tread. In talking with my folks, I can see that they're both saddened by what's happened--I can even hear it in my father's voice, and I think he got as close to crying as I've ever seen him when we chatted this afternoon about it--but there's also this weight off of both of them the past week or two, even back during Christmas. Sure, things were a little tense, but my father smiled more easily than I've seen in ages, and my mom didn't nag nearly as much as she usually does.
And so when dad told me that they were officially divorced, a part of me felt great remorse. My childhood--which, really, ended sometime during college, I guess--was irrevocably closed off today.
Childhood has to end. It's a part of the growing up process, and these things just happen. Divorce happens; it happens to about 50% of those who get married in this country. Maybe this speaks to a problem with how quickly a lot of our citizens get married. But then you do have people like my parents, who were married--rather happily, for the most part--for 29 years. How do they fit in? Is it empty nest syndrome? Is it mid-life crisis? I don't know. It just happens. I never thought it would happen to my family, but it did. That's just how things are now.
My life will never be the same. My visits home will never be the same. Mom said as much on our drive home from visiting my grandparents Christmas Day. "You know this is the last Christmas like this we'll have," she said.
"Yeah, I know," I said. We both agreed that we'd probably still do the whole Christmas Eve at dad's parents' house and Christmas Day at mom's parents' house, but this would be the last time we--mom, dad, Clif, Scott, and myself--would spend the holiday together as a family. This is how our family has evolved. Maybe it's for the best, maybe it just destroys everything. I don't know.
This has all turned out much more morbidly than I originally intended. The divorce is fairly major, and it's colored my whole time in Virginia so far, and it put a strange cap on the year, but it was hardly the overblown, dramatic moment I'm making it out to be. Maybe a heartbreaking personal epiphany for me, but I didn't break down in tears or anything. I've accepted that this is the way things are, and I've dealt with it.
Anyway, on a significantly lighter note, I'm due at a party pretty soon. Some drinking might occur. I apologize in advance to anyone I call while even slightly inebriated. When/if we talk, remember that I tend to still use big words when I've had a few, I just slur them more.
And honestly, is there anything more entertaining than hearing someone slur the word "disquietude."
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Roger McGuinn, Tom Petty, George Harrison, & Eric Clapton, "My Back Pages (Live)" <--best version EVER
This year ended on a weird note, a rather surreal moment that drove home the fact that my life has completely and totally altered. Even if I fail out here in Virginia and have to return to Oklahoma, it won't be the same. Dad told me this afternoon that he went down to the courthouse yesterday afternoon and got the divorce between he and my mother finalized. They are now no longer legally married.
And it's funny, though not ha-ha funny: it didn't really bother me, per se. I mean, sure, it bothered me. My parents are irrevocably divorced, and there's no way mom'll go back to dad even if one or both of them wanted it. A part of my life ended today with the old year, just as a part of theirs is now over. I think, deep down, they both still love each other deeply; hell, they've both said as much to me on separate occasions. They just...drifted. I think my father has made this bizarre effort to isolate himself from anyone and everyone. All he does is work.
The frightening thing is...I can feel myself do something similar. I know I have his tendency to shut myself off from everyone else. Admittedly, I'm not anywhere near as much a workaholic as he is, but I do have his tendency to throw myself into whatever project I'm working on rather than facing what's bothering me.
It's a fine line to tread. In talking with my folks, I can see that they're both saddened by what's happened--I can even hear it in my father's voice, and I think he got as close to crying as I've ever seen him when we chatted this afternoon about it--but there's also this weight off of both of them the past week or two, even back during Christmas. Sure, things were a little tense, but my father smiled more easily than I've seen in ages, and my mom didn't nag nearly as much as she usually does.
And so when dad told me that they were officially divorced, a part of me felt great remorse. My childhood--which, really, ended sometime during college, I guess--was irrevocably closed off today.
Childhood has to end. It's a part of the growing up process, and these things just happen. Divorce happens; it happens to about 50% of those who get married in this country. Maybe this speaks to a problem with how quickly a lot of our citizens get married. But then you do have people like my parents, who were married--rather happily, for the most part--for 29 years. How do they fit in? Is it empty nest syndrome? Is it mid-life crisis? I don't know. It just happens. I never thought it would happen to my family, but it did. That's just how things are now.
My life will never be the same. My visits home will never be the same. Mom said as much on our drive home from visiting my grandparents Christmas Day. "You know this is the last Christmas like this we'll have," she said.
"Yeah, I know," I said. We both agreed that we'd probably still do the whole Christmas Eve at dad's parents' house and Christmas Day at mom's parents' house, but this would be the last time we--mom, dad, Clif, Scott, and myself--would spend the holiday together as a family. This is how our family has evolved. Maybe it's for the best, maybe it just destroys everything. I don't know.
This has all turned out much more morbidly than I originally intended. The divorce is fairly major, and it's colored my whole time in Virginia so far, and it put a strange cap on the year, but it was hardly the overblown, dramatic moment I'm making it out to be. Maybe a heartbreaking personal epiphany for me, but I didn't break down in tears or anything. I've accepted that this is the way things are, and I've dealt with it.
Anyway, on a significantly lighter note, I'm due at a party pretty soon. Some drinking might occur. I apologize in advance to anyone I call while even slightly inebriated. When/if we talk, remember that I tend to still use big words when I've had a few, I just slur them more.
And honestly, is there anything more entertaining than hearing someone slur the word "disquietude."
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Bob Dylan, Neil Young, Roger McGuinn, Tom Petty, George Harrison, & Eric Clapton, "My Back Pages (Live)" <--best version EVER
Thursday, December 29, 2005
"Nobody Can Sing The Blues Like Blind Willie McTell"
Okay, I have to admit it: I've started listening to some bluegrass and country.
In my defense, the only member of my family who hasn't started down this road is Scott, and he's exceptionally picky about his music (he only listens to like three bands: Journey, Styx, and Boston). Dad has started listening to my uncle's band the way I was when I lived in Oklahoma (which means about every weekend), and they tend to play a lot of country. He doesn't seem to mind. Clif has really gotten into Johnny Cash and Hank Williams (among his presents this Christmas: a song book of Johnny Cash and one of Hank Williams and the Johnny Cash box set). Mom owns a freakin' Rascal Flatts CD (which I had to give her no end of trouble about: I mean, Johnny Cash is one thing, but Rascal Flatts? That's just pop with some twangy whine to it).
Me? I've been drifting that direction ever-so-slowly. It all started with Glen Phillips, oddly enough. His collaborations with Nickel Creek got me interested in that band. His interest in another band really set me down the path, though: Wilco.
Yeah, I started listening to Wilco because I heard someone request a Wilco song on one of Phillips's live sets I'd downloaded. Yeah, that's right: he didn't actually play one of their songs, but someone had clearly heard him do their stuff before, and he clearly liked their stuff.
I've had this problem--if it can be called that--for years. I have a tendency to seek out music I've heard someone else talk about simply because they talked about it. I started listening to Cake, Pearl Jam, Pink Floyd, the Barenaked Ladies, Moxy Fruvous, and Wilco this way. There are others. For instance, I purchased an Alison Krauss CD just this evening because my uncle mentioned that he liked them.
So I started listening to Wilco. About the same time, I heard a Rhett Miller CD playing in Borders one evening, bought it on a whim, and then began pursuing albums by the group he was in, the Old 97s.
These two bands opened me up to the joys of alt-country. I started listening to Uncle Tupelo, and Whiskeytown, and Ryan Adams, and Blue Mountain, and Healthy White Baby. I heard the Greencards open for Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson, and I pursued their music as well. I pursued the roots of American music, seeking out the beginnings of the things I listen to now.
And I figured out why I really enjoyed these bands, this style of music and things of similar ilk like Woody Guthrie, Dylan, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, and even the Band and Neil Young: because this was music about feeling, emotion, about conveying something in one's playing and one's voice that goes beyond the mere words sang or hitting the right key or playing note perfect. The way I figured it, there are two kinds of musicians out there. This applies mostly to folk, country, rock, and the blues (especially the blues), but to an extent it applies to all music. The first kind of musician relies on precision and perfection to convey emotional content. Good examples include BB King, Clapton beginning around his stint with Derek and the Dominoes, and Sting. Their music is designed to be expressive via its exactitude. BB King, for instance, plays every single note of his guitar solos perfectly. There's never a mistake, and that precision conveys a piercing, sharp emotion: his blues. Clapton is much the same way.
On the other hand, you have people who rely on tone and energy to convey emotional content. Let's face it: Dylan, Young, and so many of the others I enjoy can't sing at all. Dylan and Young are especially guilty of not being able to carry a tune in a bucket. But while they may not hit every note perfectly--and are in fact quite sloppy sometimes--they compensate by putting significant energy into their work. When Dylan sings of a wounded heart or a girl who has done him wrong, you feel it in your gut. When he sings that the world is so fucked up that the only man who could sing about it effectively is Blind Willie McTell, you feel that the world is that fucked up in your very gut. The emotional content is exhibited in the enthusiasm and the effort, not in the precision. This is why some Dylan albums really fall flat: his music is not compelling when he phones in his vocals. Take Slow Train Coming, for example. The music is decent if not exactly memorable. It could be a decent album in the hands of a precise singer, but Dylan doesn't sing like that. His vocals are flat on this record, and it kills the emotional content of an album that ought to be all about uplifting the spirit and presenting Dylan's new worldview.
The whole point of all this is that most country, folk, blues, and bluegrass musicians (though bluegrass to a lesser extent than the others) focuses on crafting a tone or feeling for the music through effort of will rather than precision or skill. Dylan's not the best singer or guitarist in the world, but his best work is exceptionally evocative nonetheless. These folks get it: you don't have to play perfectly to get your point across. Sure, precision is an excellent way of conveying emotional content, but there are other ways that don't require perfection. A lot of the bands I listen to now are steeped in this idea of getting the emotional content across in whatever way is necessary or possible, and it's a method I myself try to employ (mostly because I'm not all that good at playing or singing, either).
Anyway, tonight I purchased the aforementioned Alison Krauss CD (which is great: I mean, it's got a cover of Woody Guthrie's "Pastures of Plenty." How could you not like it?) and the Greencards. I haven't had a chance to listen to the latter CD yet, but I've heard them in concert before, so I know it'll be worthwhile.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Alison Krauss and Union Station, "Pastures of Plenty"
In my defense, the only member of my family who hasn't started down this road is Scott, and he's exceptionally picky about his music (he only listens to like three bands: Journey, Styx, and Boston). Dad has started listening to my uncle's band the way I was when I lived in Oklahoma (which means about every weekend), and they tend to play a lot of country. He doesn't seem to mind. Clif has really gotten into Johnny Cash and Hank Williams (among his presents this Christmas: a song book of Johnny Cash and one of Hank Williams and the Johnny Cash box set). Mom owns a freakin' Rascal Flatts CD (which I had to give her no end of trouble about: I mean, Johnny Cash is one thing, but Rascal Flatts? That's just pop with some twangy whine to it).
Me? I've been drifting that direction ever-so-slowly. It all started with Glen Phillips, oddly enough. His collaborations with Nickel Creek got me interested in that band. His interest in another band really set me down the path, though: Wilco.
Yeah, I started listening to Wilco because I heard someone request a Wilco song on one of Phillips's live sets I'd downloaded. Yeah, that's right: he didn't actually play one of their songs, but someone had clearly heard him do their stuff before, and he clearly liked their stuff.
I've had this problem--if it can be called that--for years. I have a tendency to seek out music I've heard someone else talk about simply because they talked about it. I started listening to Cake, Pearl Jam, Pink Floyd, the Barenaked Ladies, Moxy Fruvous, and Wilco this way. There are others. For instance, I purchased an Alison Krauss CD just this evening because my uncle mentioned that he liked them.
So I started listening to Wilco. About the same time, I heard a Rhett Miller CD playing in Borders one evening, bought it on a whim, and then began pursuing albums by the group he was in, the Old 97s.
These two bands opened me up to the joys of alt-country. I started listening to Uncle Tupelo, and Whiskeytown, and Ryan Adams, and Blue Mountain, and Healthy White Baby. I heard the Greencards open for Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson, and I pursued their music as well. I pursued the roots of American music, seeking out the beginnings of the things I listen to now.
And I figured out why I really enjoyed these bands, this style of music and things of similar ilk like Woody Guthrie, Dylan, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, and even the Band and Neil Young: because this was music about feeling, emotion, about conveying something in one's playing and one's voice that goes beyond the mere words sang or hitting the right key or playing note perfect. The way I figured it, there are two kinds of musicians out there. This applies mostly to folk, country, rock, and the blues (especially the blues), but to an extent it applies to all music. The first kind of musician relies on precision and perfection to convey emotional content. Good examples include BB King, Clapton beginning around his stint with Derek and the Dominoes, and Sting. Their music is designed to be expressive via its exactitude. BB King, for instance, plays every single note of his guitar solos perfectly. There's never a mistake, and that precision conveys a piercing, sharp emotion: his blues. Clapton is much the same way.
On the other hand, you have people who rely on tone and energy to convey emotional content. Let's face it: Dylan, Young, and so many of the others I enjoy can't sing at all. Dylan and Young are especially guilty of not being able to carry a tune in a bucket. But while they may not hit every note perfectly--and are in fact quite sloppy sometimes--they compensate by putting significant energy into their work. When Dylan sings of a wounded heart or a girl who has done him wrong, you feel it in your gut. When he sings that the world is so fucked up that the only man who could sing about it effectively is Blind Willie McTell, you feel that the world is that fucked up in your very gut. The emotional content is exhibited in the enthusiasm and the effort, not in the precision. This is why some Dylan albums really fall flat: his music is not compelling when he phones in his vocals. Take Slow Train Coming, for example. The music is decent if not exactly memorable. It could be a decent album in the hands of a precise singer, but Dylan doesn't sing like that. His vocals are flat on this record, and it kills the emotional content of an album that ought to be all about uplifting the spirit and presenting Dylan's new worldview.
The whole point of all this is that most country, folk, blues, and bluegrass musicians (though bluegrass to a lesser extent than the others) focuses on crafting a tone or feeling for the music through effort of will rather than precision or skill. Dylan's not the best singer or guitarist in the world, but his best work is exceptionally evocative nonetheless. These folks get it: you don't have to play perfectly to get your point across. Sure, precision is an excellent way of conveying emotional content, but there are other ways that don't require perfection. A lot of the bands I listen to now are steeped in this idea of getting the emotional content across in whatever way is necessary or possible, and it's a method I myself try to employ (mostly because I'm not all that good at playing or singing, either).
Anyway, tonight I purchased the aforementioned Alison Krauss CD (which is great: I mean, it's got a cover of Woody Guthrie's "Pastures of Plenty." How could you not like it?) and the Greencards. I haven't had a chance to listen to the latter CD yet, but I've heard them in concert before, so I know it'll be worthwhile.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Alison Krauss and Union Station, "Pastures of Plenty"
"My Friday Night Enfant"
Christmas back home wasn't too bad last weekend. The trip was whirlwind, as I knew it would be, but everyone got along, there were no outbursts or tantrums or anything of that nature, no moments that were truly awkward. Present-wise, I got some nifty stuff: three new pair of jeans (both grandmothers decided that my request for a single new pair of jeans was simply not enough), a couple of giftcards (to Target and to Best Buy), Toy Story and Episode III on DVD, the 30th Anniversary Edition of Born to Run, and a few videogames. And cash. Quite a bit of cash. Of course, last but certainly not least, there's the guitar, my pride and joy, but we already knew I had that and I've gushed over it enough. Suffice to say it still captivates me and holds my attention like something shiny would a football player.
Travelling to and from Oklahoma posed fewer problems than I'd imagined it would from too many viewings of Die Hard 2 (y'know, the one where they hijack the airport and the planes can't land and all that). Our only problem was a one-hour delay going to Oklahoma Friday evening, but we ended up only being about 40 minutes later than we'd anticipated in our arrival, and my parents had only just arrived at the airport themselves to pick us up, so that worked out well. Returning, the only trouble we had was with a manicure kit Wendy had in her bag. It contained some sort of tool thing that apparently had some sort of blade, and they made her check her baggage with the thing (even though she'd already been through two different airports with it by this time: this was on our connecting flight from Kansas City to Baltimore on the way back to the East Coast). This was apparently the third time in as many trips that she's tried to bring the manicure kit along with her, and each time they've flagged it. Personally, I'd have stopped bothering with the damn thing after the first time, but I wasn't about to say anything to her about it.
Anyway, it's been nice not having to work this week. I'm not quite to the point where I'll say that I'm ready to jump back into work, and I'd really prefer to have another week or two off like I did in college, but I think I'll be ready to get back to it when the time comes.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: David Gray, "Nos da Cariad"
Travelling to and from Oklahoma posed fewer problems than I'd imagined it would from too many viewings of Die Hard 2 (y'know, the one where they hijack the airport and the planes can't land and all that). Our only problem was a one-hour delay going to Oklahoma Friday evening, but we ended up only being about 40 minutes later than we'd anticipated in our arrival, and my parents had only just arrived at the airport themselves to pick us up, so that worked out well. Returning, the only trouble we had was with a manicure kit Wendy had in her bag. It contained some sort of tool thing that apparently had some sort of blade, and they made her check her baggage with the thing (even though she'd already been through two different airports with it by this time: this was on our connecting flight from Kansas City to Baltimore on the way back to the East Coast). This was apparently the third time in as many trips that she's tried to bring the manicure kit along with her, and each time they've flagged it. Personally, I'd have stopped bothering with the damn thing after the first time, but I wasn't about to say anything to her about it.
Anyway, it's been nice not having to work this week. I'm not quite to the point where I'll say that I'm ready to jump back into work, and I'd really prefer to have another week or two off like I did in college, but I think I'll be ready to get back to it when the time comes.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: David Gray, "Nos da Cariad"
Friday, December 23, 2005
"Hotel Senator"
So here we are, mere hours from my return to Oklahoma. I still need to pack, possibly draw another comic, and do a couple of other things. So what am I actually doing? Surfing the internet.
Yeah, that's right, I'm procrastinating like a mo-fo. Why drop my M.O. at this point in my life, right?
I really am looking forward to going home, though I know there will quite possibly be some awkwardness. Oddly enough, mom is accompanying dad to come pick us up at the airport. This is probably a good sign: if they can stand a car ride together, they can probably make it through Christmas morning.
'Tis the season, folks. Have a safe and happy holiday, and I'll be back in a few days.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Barenaked Ladies & Sarah McLaughlin, "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"
Yeah, that's right, I'm procrastinating like a mo-fo. Why drop my M.O. at this point in my life, right?
I really am looking forward to going home, though I know there will quite possibly be some awkwardness. Oddly enough, mom is accompanying dad to come pick us up at the airport. This is probably a good sign: if they can stand a car ride together, they can probably make it through Christmas morning.
'Tis the season, folks. Have a safe and happy holiday, and I'll be back in a few days.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Barenaked Ladies & Sarah McLaughlin, "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen"
Monday, December 19, 2005
"Top 10 of 2005"
As is readily apparent to anyone who's ever spoken with me, read anything I've written, or just heard about me through various other people, I'm obsessed with music. I have music playing constantly, or I'm writing it, or I'm playing it on the guitar, or I'm singing random snatches of songs throughout my day, or I'm talking about it. Writing about it. I'm caught up in music. As such, the folks down at Best Buy know me a little too well, and the cashiers at Tower Records are on something approaching a first-name basis.
But all that is immaterial, because the fact of the matter is that I like my music and I found some pretty damn good albums this year. It's hard to pare it down to just ten from this year that I feel are the absolute best, but I've done what I could. So, in no particular order:
1. Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, Cold Roses: a double album from the prolific to a fault Adams that kicked off a year that saw three full albums from the man (the third, 29, comes out tomorrow). While Cold Roses suffers from an "everything and the kitchen sink" approach to song selection, the songs on here that are good are really good and more than make up for the filler that you tend to find on one of his albums. Best tracks include "Magnolia Mountain," "Easy Plateau," and especially "Let it Ride."
2. Bob Dylan, The Bootleg Series Volume 7 - No Direction Home: the latest in The Bootleg Series concentrates on the first few years of Dylan's career, from his early days as an acoustic folkie to his stormy electric breakouts. This collection of outtakes, live tracks, and even a few unreleased cuts proves why Dylan is such a cultural force in American music. Standouts include alternate takes of "Mr. Tambourine Man," "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" and "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again."
3. Gorillaz, Demon Days: less hip-hop-oriented than the cartoon band's previous outing, it's still damn fun music. Damon Albarn manages to blend different genres and sounds into a cohesive, toe-tapping whole that you can't help but enjoy...even if you have no idea what the hell they're singing about. Favorites include "Dirty Harry," "Feel Good Inc.," and "Dare."
4. Van Morrison, Magic Time: every year or so, Van the Man releases another album that reminds you that he's still the best at what he does: fusing Celtic swing, blue-eyed soul, and jazz into a fun, warm sound that's irresistable. Best songs include "Stranded," "Celtic New Year," and the title track.
5. My Morning Jacket, Z: with vocals that feel like they're coming from the other end of existence and a dense, melodic sonic collage that would make Brian Wilson proud, My Morning Jacket have crafted one of the best damn albums I've heard in a long time. It's pure Americana, blending pop, country, psychadelia, and whatever else Jim James and the boys felt like throwing into the mix into a near-perfect album. Songs to listen to are "Wordless Chorus," "Lay Low," and "Off the Record."
6. Glen Phillips, Winter Pays for Summer: a solid album of strummy, folky pop-rock from the former Toad the Wet Sprocket frontman. The sound is cleaner and smoother than his previous solo effort, abulum, but this just makes it feel like more of an extension of latter-day Toad. Coupled with the fact that it includes long-time fan favorites such as "Easier," "Thankful," and "Falling," and you've got an album worth checking out.
7. Paul McCartney, Chaos and Creation in the Backyard: any McCartney solo album must be approached with caution lest one succomb to the sugary sweetness of his ballads and the inordinate number of throwaway and filler tracks that seem to populate his records. That's why Chaos is such a fantastic record: Nigel Godrich stripped away all of McCartney's pretensions, all of his tendencies to toss off half-baked songs and call it an album. What's left is a reminder of why so many of our favorite songs have McCartney's name on them somewhere. Best cuts include "Fine Line," "Jenny Wren," and "Riding to Vanity Faire."
8. Son Volt, Okemah and the Melody of Riot: I'm not sure what a "Melody of Riot" is, but I know that Okemah is a small town in Oklahoma where Woody Guthrie was born. With that knowledge in mind, Jay Farrar (formerly of Uncle Tupelo) crafts a batch of alt-country songs that use his work with Uncle Tupelo and the work of Guthrie as a starting point. It's a solid, well-made album in an era when too many records are just bashed out for quick cash. It may not be groundbreaking, but it's definitely damn fine music. Best songs include "Afterglow 61," "Jet Pilot," and "World Waits for You."
9. Wilco, Kicking Television: yes, it's a live album, but it's a live album that reminds us of why Wilco is such a great band: the fact that they can really cut loose and rock hard when they want to. And make no mistake, the boys cut loose on this record, pounding mercilessly on some of the finest songs from their catalog. What makes this live album essential rather than redundant is that they tweak songs just enough to make them fresh and new without changing the core of what the song is all about. Highlights include "Shot in the Arm," "Hummingbird," "Jesus, Etc.," and a relentless "Kicking Television."
10. Wallflowers, Rebel, Sweetheart: another album where the point isn't to break new ground but to consolidate strengths. The Wallflowers craft some of the finest traditionalist roots-rock out there, carving their own niche out of the territory Jakob Dylan's father Bob, Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen, and John Mellencamp first explored. Jakob's songwriting talents grow with each record, and this particular album benefits from the presence of producer/guitarist Brendan O'Brien. Standouts include "Here he Comes (Confessions of a Drunken Marionette)," "From the Bottom of my Heart," and "Nearly Beloved."
Honorable Mentions: there were more than just ten great albums this year; as I said, I had a tough time narrowing it down to just these ten. Some of the other standouts this year were Ben Folds's Songs for Silverman, Mike Doughty's Haughty Melodic, Coldplay's X&Y, the Foo Fighters' In Your Honor, Bruce Springsteen's Devils + Dust, Charlie Sexton's Cruel and Gentle Things, and Jackson Browne's Solo Acoustic, Volume 1.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ryan Adams, "Magnolia Mountain"
But all that is immaterial, because the fact of the matter is that I like my music and I found some pretty damn good albums this year. It's hard to pare it down to just ten from this year that I feel are the absolute best, but I've done what I could. So, in no particular order:
1. Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, Cold Roses: a double album from the prolific to a fault Adams that kicked off a year that saw three full albums from the man (the third, 29, comes out tomorrow). While Cold Roses suffers from an "everything and the kitchen sink" approach to song selection, the songs on here that are good are really good and more than make up for the filler that you tend to find on one of his albums. Best tracks include "Magnolia Mountain," "Easy Plateau," and especially "Let it Ride."
2. Bob Dylan, The Bootleg Series Volume 7 - No Direction Home: the latest in The Bootleg Series concentrates on the first few years of Dylan's career, from his early days as an acoustic folkie to his stormy electric breakouts. This collection of outtakes, live tracks, and even a few unreleased cuts proves why Dylan is such a cultural force in American music. Standouts include alternate takes of "Mr. Tambourine Man," "It's All Over Now, Baby Blue" and "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again."
3. Gorillaz, Demon Days: less hip-hop-oriented than the cartoon band's previous outing, it's still damn fun music. Damon Albarn manages to blend different genres and sounds into a cohesive, toe-tapping whole that you can't help but enjoy...even if you have no idea what the hell they're singing about. Favorites include "Dirty Harry," "Feel Good Inc.," and "Dare."
4. Van Morrison, Magic Time: every year or so, Van the Man releases another album that reminds you that he's still the best at what he does: fusing Celtic swing, blue-eyed soul, and jazz into a fun, warm sound that's irresistable. Best songs include "Stranded," "Celtic New Year," and the title track.
5. My Morning Jacket, Z: with vocals that feel like they're coming from the other end of existence and a dense, melodic sonic collage that would make Brian Wilson proud, My Morning Jacket have crafted one of the best damn albums I've heard in a long time. It's pure Americana, blending pop, country, psychadelia, and whatever else Jim James and the boys felt like throwing into the mix into a near-perfect album. Songs to listen to are "Wordless Chorus," "Lay Low," and "Off the Record."
6. Glen Phillips, Winter Pays for Summer: a solid album of strummy, folky pop-rock from the former Toad the Wet Sprocket frontman. The sound is cleaner and smoother than his previous solo effort, abulum, but this just makes it feel like more of an extension of latter-day Toad. Coupled with the fact that it includes long-time fan favorites such as "Easier," "Thankful," and "Falling," and you've got an album worth checking out.
7. Paul McCartney, Chaos and Creation in the Backyard: any McCartney solo album must be approached with caution lest one succomb to the sugary sweetness of his ballads and the inordinate number of throwaway and filler tracks that seem to populate his records. That's why Chaos is such a fantastic record: Nigel Godrich stripped away all of McCartney's pretensions, all of his tendencies to toss off half-baked songs and call it an album. What's left is a reminder of why so many of our favorite songs have McCartney's name on them somewhere. Best cuts include "Fine Line," "Jenny Wren," and "Riding to Vanity Faire."
8. Son Volt, Okemah and the Melody of Riot: I'm not sure what a "Melody of Riot" is, but I know that Okemah is a small town in Oklahoma where Woody Guthrie was born. With that knowledge in mind, Jay Farrar (formerly of Uncle Tupelo) crafts a batch of alt-country songs that use his work with Uncle Tupelo and the work of Guthrie as a starting point. It's a solid, well-made album in an era when too many records are just bashed out for quick cash. It may not be groundbreaking, but it's definitely damn fine music. Best songs include "Afterglow 61," "Jet Pilot," and "World Waits for You."
9. Wilco, Kicking Television: yes, it's a live album, but it's a live album that reminds us of why Wilco is such a great band: the fact that they can really cut loose and rock hard when they want to. And make no mistake, the boys cut loose on this record, pounding mercilessly on some of the finest songs from their catalog. What makes this live album essential rather than redundant is that they tweak songs just enough to make them fresh and new without changing the core of what the song is all about. Highlights include "Shot in the Arm," "Hummingbird," "Jesus, Etc.," and a relentless "Kicking Television."
10. Wallflowers, Rebel, Sweetheart: another album where the point isn't to break new ground but to consolidate strengths. The Wallflowers craft some of the finest traditionalist roots-rock out there, carving their own niche out of the territory Jakob Dylan's father Bob, Tom Petty, Bruce Springsteen, and John Mellencamp first explored. Jakob's songwriting talents grow with each record, and this particular album benefits from the presence of producer/guitarist Brendan O'Brien. Standouts include "Here he Comes (Confessions of a Drunken Marionette)," "From the Bottom of my Heart," and "Nearly Beloved."
Honorable Mentions: there were more than just ten great albums this year; as I said, I had a tough time narrowing it down to just these ten. Some of the other standouts this year were Ben Folds's Songs for Silverman, Mike Doughty's Haughty Melodic, Coldplay's X&Y, the Foo Fighters' In Your Honor, Bruce Springsteen's Devils + Dust, Charlie Sexton's Cruel and Gentle Things, and Jackson Browne's Solo Acoustic, Volume 1.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Ryan Adams, "Magnolia Mountain"
"Next Time You See Her"
Saw The Chronicles of Narnia this weekend. It was a good flick, but Wendy and I agreed: it was merely good. There's nothing truly flawed or wrong with it, nor is there anything particularly awe-inspiring or jaw-droppingly fantastic about it. It's a solid film with some well-done special effects and all that jazz. It's the sort of movie that, had it appeared before Lord of the Rings, would have been hailed as a masterpiece. Now it's an almost run-of-the-mill epic fantasy film. It felt for all the world like LOTR Lite. Which isn't particularly fair to either Narnia or LOTR (the books or the films), which are both fantastic pieces of art that strive for very different goals.
I got a rather wonderful package in the mail Friday. Let me give you a hint:
Not obvious enough? Well, how about these:
That's right, my new guitar arrived in the mail Friday evening (just after I'd finished a phone conversation with my father about how the guitar hadn't arrived yet. Sweet, sweet irony). To say that I am pleased with my new Martin is to grossly understate the circumstances. I think it would be fair to say that it fills a void in my life, a Martin-shaped hole that I hadn't even been aware existed. The guitar plays as beautifully as it looks, and I can't even begin to thank my dad enough for getting it for me.
That last sentence felt weird, mostly because I singled out my father as the buyer of the present (which is my big Christmas present this year...though even if it'd been the only thing I received, I'd've been perfectly content). It's accurate, though: dad was responsible for the big present, and mom's getting us a few small things (DVDs, CDs, books, things like that). It's weird to think that the presents will be divided like that this year: that we won't have presents that say "From Mom and Dad" on them as we always have. It's just another physical reminder of the fact that my parents aren't together anymore. It's a tough idea to wrap my head around, and this weekend is going to be rather awkward because of it, I think. I'm sure we'll get through, but that's not saying it'll be a piece of cake or anything.
This time Friday, though, I'll be on my way to Oklahoma. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, especially since I haven't seen any of my family in like five months.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Eagles, "Take It Easy"
I got a rather wonderful package in the mail Friday. Let me give you a hint:
Not obvious enough? Well, how about these:
That's right, my new guitar arrived in the mail Friday evening (just after I'd finished a phone conversation with my father about how the guitar hadn't arrived yet. Sweet, sweet irony). To say that I am pleased with my new Martin is to grossly understate the circumstances. I think it would be fair to say that it fills a void in my life, a Martin-shaped hole that I hadn't even been aware existed. The guitar plays as beautifully as it looks, and I can't even begin to thank my dad enough for getting it for me.
That last sentence felt weird, mostly because I singled out my father as the buyer of the present (which is my big Christmas present this year...though even if it'd been the only thing I received, I'd've been perfectly content). It's accurate, though: dad was responsible for the big present, and mom's getting us a few small things (DVDs, CDs, books, things like that). It's weird to think that the presents will be divided like that this year: that we won't have presents that say "From Mom and Dad" on them as we always have. It's just another physical reminder of the fact that my parents aren't together anymore. It's a tough idea to wrap my head around, and this weekend is going to be rather awkward because of it, I think. I'm sure we'll get through, but that's not saying it'll be a piece of cake or anything.
This time Friday, though, I'll be on my way to Oklahoma. I'm looking forward to seeing everyone, especially since I haven't seen any of my family in like five months.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Eagles, "Take It Easy"
Thursday, December 15, 2005
"Hey Mr. DJ"
This is almost enough to convince me to get XM Radio. Admittedly, we're talking about Bob just spinning the records that catch his fancy and talking about whatever the hell it is he mumbles about. But honestly, at this point I'd probably pay money for him to sit there and read the phone book while he strummed a guitar, so maybe I'm not the most objective person for this matter.
We only had a half day at school today because of the weather. In a way, I was glad for the break, but I really think they need to stop burning through all of our snow days so early. We've still got January and February to get through, and the weather today didn't really warrant shutting the county schools down as far as I could tell. Admittedly, I think school closings are based on how well the buses can navigate the roads, so if there was concern that the buses couldn't operate in the crap we ended up with by the time school should have been out (a slushy rain. Mostly rain), then I guess I can see the wisdom in closing down.
And hey, I never mind working half a day for a full day's pay.
Still counting down the hours until the new guitar arrives. I was hoping (irrationally) that it might get here this afternoon--y'know, early--but no such luck. Honestly, it wasn't a logical expectation, but I'm anxious to get my hands on a Martin of my very own. Can you really blame me?
Part of me will miss playing the Fender, 'cause I know I won't really play it all that much after I get the Martin. I mean, why would I? I'll probably still use it for the Music Club at school, because I really don't want to take the Martin there (that's just asking for trouble), but aside from that, the Martin will get all the playing time. The Fender's been a good guitar, though, a great instrument to start out on. Considering it was also a gift from my father, I'm definitely hanging onto it (despite a couple of kid in the Music Club asking if I'd be willing to sell it).
I baked cookies tonight for school tomorrow. I feel all domestic and stuff. Now to play a couple of rounds of MarioKart DS before bed.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Tom Petty, "Christmas All Over"
We only had a half day at school today because of the weather. In a way, I was glad for the break, but I really think they need to stop burning through all of our snow days so early. We've still got January and February to get through, and the weather today didn't really warrant shutting the county schools down as far as I could tell. Admittedly, I think school closings are based on how well the buses can navigate the roads, so if there was concern that the buses couldn't operate in the crap we ended up with by the time school should have been out (a slushy rain. Mostly rain), then I guess I can see the wisdom in closing down.
And hey, I never mind working half a day for a full day's pay.
Still counting down the hours until the new guitar arrives. I was hoping (irrationally) that it might get here this afternoon--y'know, early--but no such luck. Honestly, it wasn't a logical expectation, but I'm anxious to get my hands on a Martin of my very own. Can you really blame me?
Part of me will miss playing the Fender, 'cause I know I won't really play it all that much after I get the Martin. I mean, why would I? I'll probably still use it for the Music Club at school, because I really don't want to take the Martin there (that's just asking for trouble), but aside from that, the Martin will get all the playing time. The Fender's been a good guitar, though, a great instrument to start out on. Considering it was also a gift from my father, I'm definitely hanging onto it (despite a couple of kid in the Music Club asking if I'd be willing to sell it).
I baked cookies tonight for school tomorrow. I feel all domestic and stuff. Now to play a couple of rounds of MarioKart DS before bed.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Tom Petty, "Christmas All Over"
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
"A Red Guitar On Fire"
A conversation with my mother this evening revealed that my guitar has been ordered and that it will most likely arrive this Friday or the following Monday. This is of considerable news to me, as I wasn't expecting to see it until something right before we left for Oklahoma. I figured at least another week or two.
I looked in a mirror yesterday afternoon and realized I looked like I hadn't slept since 1945 (an impressive feat, given that I wasn't born until 1980. That's right: I'm a retroactive insomniac). It was rather frightening: the skin around my eyes was blotchy and palid, with a sort of sickly yellowish cast to it. I looked almost...creepy.
Granted, I haven't really changed my sleeping habits. I was awake until almost 2.00 last night, and here it is almost midnight tonight and I'm still up. Over the break, I need to get myself into the habit of going to bed early so I can get plenty of sleep. The chances of this actually happening are slim, but it's fun to say I'll try.
We've been dealing with karma at the apartment this week. On the one hand, we've heard dozens of glowing praises for Wen's production of Oz. On the other, she got a five page diatribe yesterday from an unknown misnathrope (a note and plea: if you're going to bash and badmouth someone, please at least own up to doing it. Put your damn name on it, people!) that made every effort to belittle Wendy and the entire theatre department's achievement. I was rather miffed. Wen thinks she knows who it might've been (she has it narrowed down to a couple of possible suspects). Regardless of who it was, it was a cowardly and callow attack that showed a complete lack of decency or understanding of how this show was produced and put on. There were also scads of grammatical mistakes, and I took a certain vicious glee in finding most of them in a cursory read-through.
To end on a positive note, though: I ran into the apartment building's tenant leader, a teacher from a local middle school, and she had nothing but glowing praise for the show to pass on to Wen. It all balances out in the end, I say.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Coldplay, "What If"
I looked in a mirror yesterday afternoon and realized I looked like I hadn't slept since 1945 (an impressive feat, given that I wasn't born until 1980. That's right: I'm a retroactive insomniac). It was rather frightening: the skin around my eyes was blotchy and palid, with a sort of sickly yellowish cast to it. I looked almost...creepy.
Granted, I haven't really changed my sleeping habits. I was awake until almost 2.00 last night, and here it is almost midnight tonight and I'm still up. Over the break, I need to get myself into the habit of going to bed early so I can get plenty of sleep. The chances of this actually happening are slim, but it's fun to say I'll try.
We've been dealing with karma at the apartment this week. On the one hand, we've heard dozens of glowing praises for Wen's production of Oz. On the other, she got a five page diatribe yesterday from an unknown misnathrope (a note and plea: if you're going to bash and badmouth someone, please at least own up to doing it. Put your damn name on it, people!) that made every effort to belittle Wendy and the entire theatre department's achievement. I was rather miffed. Wen thinks she knows who it might've been (she has it narrowed down to a couple of possible suspects). Regardless of who it was, it was a cowardly and callow attack that showed a complete lack of decency or understanding of how this show was produced and put on. There were also scads of grammatical mistakes, and I took a certain vicious glee in finding most of them in a cursory read-through.
To end on a positive note, though: I ran into the apartment building's tenant leader, a teacher from a local middle school, and she had nothing but glowing praise for the show to pass on to Wen. It all balances out in the end, I say.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Coldplay, "What If"
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Coldplay - X&Y
My interest in Coldplay waxes and wanes depending on how mopey I'm feeling. Chris Martin is a bit of a sadsack, dwelling in a personal space fraught with a meloncholy of the 18th century British variety: there's lots of laborious sighs, wistful navel gazing, and the feeling that this will all end in someone dying of consumption or tuberculosis. Martin's lyrics are so introspective that you feel like he's taken a page from his diary, set it to gently-swelling, anthematic Brit-pop, and recorded it for general consumption.
Which isn't to say it's bad music. I really enjoyed Rush of Blood to the Head, and I have to admit that Martin & Co. have a knack for soaring choruses and catchy hooks. But I'd heard that X&Y was ballad-heavy, and with a band like Coldplay--who start out pretty clearly in ballad territory on most of their tracks anyway--this is saying something. I'm not real big on ballads, to be honest: it all seems a little too forced anymore, and how many ways can you really write a song about heartbreak and wanting the girl back, anyway?
Well, Coldplay don't reinvent the wheel on X&Y. In fact, the album follows the pattern established on Coldplay's previous releases almost too closely. Ultimately, that's the album's biggest weakness: it's too by-the-numbers, too similar to its predecessor. The songs still sound good--as I said, Coldplay has a knack for catchy hooks and all--but it's a fairly predictable record. You can tell where the guitar fill will slot in, how the piano bit will start out the song, when Chris Martin will hit his perfect "I sound like my balls still haven't dropped" falsetto in a chorus. There's no surprises on the record, and that's what keeps it from being a mind-blowing album.
This isn't to say that X&Y isn't very, very good. It is. The band have a phenomenal sense of songcraft, and everything is done with the precision of a band much more mature than Coldplay's three proper albums suggests. And while the songs may not rock out in the conventional sense--but who really expects them to?--there's some fantastic uptempo numbers on the record that are hard not to like.
And that's really just it: it's hard not to like this record for what it is. It tries to be arty, but it's middle-of-the-road arty, so it doesn't alienate folks. The lack of surprises does have one positive point: you know the songs are going to be good. Tracks like "White Shadows" and "Speed of Sound" soar like vintage U2, sans the ubiquitous echo delay effect The Edge put on every guitar part between 1980 and 1991 (though even that pops up a couple of times on X&Y).
There's an earnestness to the record that makes you want to alternately nod your head in total agreement with the sentiment Martin is expressing and smack him and tell him to take himself a little less seriously. Honestly, he gets a little too wound-up in his navel gazing. He wants to be the next Bono, but he lacks the lyrical sweep of Bono. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing: Bono's social opinions are all well and good, but he tends to shove it into your face without the benefit of subtlety sometimes ("Bullet the Blue Sky," anyone?).
Ultimately, X&Y is a solid album that sticks with a proven formula. This keeps it from being a classic, but it's definitely worth a listen. Why fix what's not broken, right?
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Coldplay, "White Shadows"
Which isn't to say it's bad music. I really enjoyed Rush of Blood to the Head, and I have to admit that Martin & Co. have a knack for soaring choruses and catchy hooks. But I'd heard that X&Y was ballad-heavy, and with a band like Coldplay--who start out pretty clearly in ballad territory on most of their tracks anyway--this is saying something. I'm not real big on ballads, to be honest: it all seems a little too forced anymore, and how many ways can you really write a song about heartbreak and wanting the girl back, anyway?
Well, Coldplay don't reinvent the wheel on X&Y. In fact, the album follows the pattern established on Coldplay's previous releases almost too closely. Ultimately, that's the album's biggest weakness: it's too by-the-numbers, too similar to its predecessor. The songs still sound good--as I said, Coldplay has a knack for catchy hooks and all--but it's a fairly predictable record. You can tell where the guitar fill will slot in, how the piano bit will start out the song, when Chris Martin will hit his perfect "I sound like my balls still haven't dropped" falsetto in a chorus. There's no surprises on the record, and that's what keeps it from being a mind-blowing album.
This isn't to say that X&Y isn't very, very good. It is. The band have a phenomenal sense of songcraft, and everything is done with the precision of a band much more mature than Coldplay's three proper albums suggests. And while the songs may not rock out in the conventional sense--but who really expects them to?--there's some fantastic uptempo numbers on the record that are hard not to like.
And that's really just it: it's hard not to like this record for what it is. It tries to be arty, but it's middle-of-the-road arty, so it doesn't alienate folks. The lack of surprises does have one positive point: you know the songs are going to be good. Tracks like "White Shadows" and "Speed of Sound" soar like vintage U2, sans the ubiquitous echo delay effect The Edge put on every guitar part between 1980 and 1991 (though even that pops up a couple of times on X&Y).
There's an earnestness to the record that makes you want to alternately nod your head in total agreement with the sentiment Martin is expressing and smack him and tell him to take himself a little less seriously. Honestly, he gets a little too wound-up in his navel gazing. He wants to be the next Bono, but he lacks the lyrical sweep of Bono. Which isn't necessarily a bad thing: Bono's social opinions are all well and good, but he tends to shove it into your face without the benefit of subtlety sometimes ("Bullet the Blue Sky," anyone?).
Ultimately, X&Y is a solid album that sticks with a proven formula. This keeps it from being a classic, but it's definitely worth a listen. Why fix what's not broken, right?
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Coldplay, "White Shadows"
Thursday, December 08, 2005
"Imagine All The People"
Tonight is the 25th anniversary of John Lennon's death. It still boggles my mind that anyone would even want to consider such an act. Lennon was a man of incredible creativity and vitality, a man adored by millions worldwide, and he was gunned down by a man who was clearly not in his right mind in an instant that defies reason, logic, and common sense.
Part of me always wonders what it would've been like if Lennon had lived. A cynical part of me feels that his death was actually for the best: he was cut down while he was still a force to be reckoned with, not a worn-out star whose heyday was years behind him. We might have had to suffer through ill-advised Beatles reunions, the Lads attempting to catch lightning in a bottle the second time around and tarnishing their legacy. As it stands, we dream of the music Lennon could have made, but never had the chance to. It's a sad thought, of course. He may have crafted another song as beatiful as "Imagine," as powerful as "Revolution," as surreal as "I am the Walrus." But we'll never know.
Thus, it's a day of reflection and mourning, a day to remember what was and what could have been. God rest you, John: of all people, you deserve some peace.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Beatles, "A Day in the Life"
Part of me always wonders what it would've been like if Lennon had lived. A cynical part of me feels that his death was actually for the best: he was cut down while he was still a force to be reckoned with, not a worn-out star whose heyday was years behind him. We might have had to suffer through ill-advised Beatles reunions, the Lads attempting to catch lightning in a bottle the second time around and tarnishing their legacy. As it stands, we dream of the music Lennon could have made, but never had the chance to. It's a sad thought, of course. He may have crafted another song as beatiful as "Imagine," as powerful as "Revolution," as surreal as "I am the Walrus." But we'll never know.
Thus, it's a day of reflection and mourning, a day to remember what was and what could have been. God rest you, John: of all people, you deserve some peace.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: The Beatles, "A Day in the Life"
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
"I Saw The Snow Fall In Black And White"
Let's recap the last week or so, shall we?
I spent all of last week either at Accotink teaching or at Wen's school helping get everything ready for Oz. I got roped into helping the witch "melt," and ended up with a headful of glitter for my troubles (long story). The show was a great success, selling roughly 2700 tickets over the course of the three-day run. We sold out Friday night and had great shows the rest of the time. I ran things on Saturday evening's show, so of course several things requiring important decisions on my part cropped up that evening. We muddled through, though, and we're all damn proud of how the show did.
Sunday was spent striking the set. We got all the important stuff done that afternoon, though we didn't get to repain the entire floor like Wen wanted to (in part because we couldn't find enough of the right kind of paint for them). It was strange seeing the auditorium empty like that, all the set pieces broken down and stored away. The show went by much too quickly, though.
Sunday night, Michelle came over and we exchanged Christmas presents. I got her Neil Gaiman's Mirror Mask and My Morning Jacket's Z, and she got me a collection of out-of-print/unpublished Dashiell Hammet stories and Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai, which is easily one of the coolest presents ever.
It snowed yesterday afternoon/evening, ultimately meaning today was a delayed start morning: we didn't start classes until 10.30. Personally, these delay mornings strike me as ridiculous. Take the Oklahoma route, people: either have school or don't! Stop piddling around!
Last night managed to convince me that I'm glad I'm not a business/marketing major. I proofread a paper for Scott, and the paper was the driest, most monotonous thing I've read in a long time. Of course, the fault didn't really lie with my sibling: he's a good writer, it's just a crappy format/style to write in.
I also learned how to play the Flaming Lips' "Fight Test" on the guitar last night, which made me ridiculously happy. On a related note, dad says he'll be ordering my new guitar sometime in the next day or so, meaining I'll receive it before Christmas. This is a good thing.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: John Mellencamp, "Rain on the Scarecrow"
I spent all of last week either at Accotink teaching or at Wen's school helping get everything ready for Oz. I got roped into helping the witch "melt," and ended up with a headful of glitter for my troubles (long story). The show was a great success, selling roughly 2700 tickets over the course of the three-day run. We sold out Friday night and had great shows the rest of the time. I ran things on Saturday evening's show, so of course several things requiring important decisions on my part cropped up that evening. We muddled through, though, and we're all damn proud of how the show did.
Sunday was spent striking the set. We got all the important stuff done that afternoon, though we didn't get to repain the entire floor like Wen wanted to (in part because we couldn't find enough of the right kind of paint for them). It was strange seeing the auditorium empty like that, all the set pieces broken down and stored away. The show went by much too quickly, though.
Sunday night, Michelle came over and we exchanged Christmas presents. I got her Neil Gaiman's Mirror Mask and My Morning Jacket's Z, and she got me a collection of out-of-print/unpublished Dashiell Hammet stories and Akira Kurosawa's Seven Samurai, which is easily one of the coolest presents ever.
It snowed yesterday afternoon/evening, ultimately meaning today was a delayed start morning: we didn't start classes until 10.30. Personally, these delay mornings strike me as ridiculous. Take the Oklahoma route, people: either have school or don't! Stop piddling around!
Last night managed to convince me that I'm glad I'm not a business/marketing major. I proofread a paper for Scott, and the paper was the driest, most monotonous thing I've read in a long time. Of course, the fault didn't really lie with my sibling: he's a good writer, it's just a crappy format/style to write in.
I also learned how to play the Flaming Lips' "Fight Test" on the guitar last night, which made me ridiculously happy. On a related note, dad says he'll be ordering my new guitar sometime in the next day or so, meaining I'll receive it before Christmas. This is a good thing.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: John Mellencamp, "Rain on the Scarecrow"
Thursday, December 01, 2005
"I'm Going Where There's No Depression"
I'm damn-near totally exhausted. I've been helping Wen with preparations for Oz all week, and given how worn out I am, I can only imagine how she currently feels. The show opens tonight, though, so we'll be done with this behemoth by Sunday.
Another stress factor this weekend is the visit of Wen' parents. They're coming into town to see the show and meet Tim's folks. Personally, I'm of the opinion that this is something we could do without this weekend, but we don't always get to choose our days.
Thankfully, though, work's going well. Most of my students have been exceptionally well-behaved this week, making my job significantly more enjoyable. Even being as tired as I've been from running around all over the place, I still look forward to work every day.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: My Morning Jacket, "At Dawn"
Another stress factor this weekend is the visit of Wen' parents. They're coming into town to see the show and meet Tim's folks. Personally, I'm of the opinion that this is something we could do without this weekend, but we don't always get to choose our days.
Thankfully, though, work's going well. Most of my students have been exceptionally well-behaved this week, making my job significantly more enjoyable. Even being as tired as I've been from running around all over the place, I still look forward to work every day.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: My Morning Jacket, "At Dawn"
Saturday, November 26, 2005
"You Went To Bed With Your Darkest Mind"
It's been a pretty good break so far. Thursday, Wendy, Tim, and I went to a little French restaurant downtown for dinner. I had lobster bisque, some sort of salmon thing stuffed with crabmeat, lobster, and crawfish, and a thing called a chocolate molten (chocolate brownie thing filled with warm liquid chocolate). It was a great meal, but for as much as it cost, it should've been.
Wendy somehow convinced me to go shopping with her, Meg, and Michelle at Potomac Mills yesterday. Now, I usually make it a habit to not go shopping the day after Thanksgiving. Sure, you find great bargains, but all the stupid people you have to contend with usually counterbalances any benefits. Anyway, we really lucked out: found a great parking spot, managed to avoid most of the really stupid people by the utilization of a "don't bother me you idiot" field, and actually found some pretty spiffy stuff. Now, the funny thing is, most of the things we bought were not for Christmas presents. Wen found some shelf things at IKEA to store videos in, I found a TV stand for my room at the same, a suit jacket (regularly like $300, on sale for $40. How could I have passed that up?), and some flannel sheets. Admittedly, I've only got three or four people left to shop for and payday is next week, but part of me felt a little guilty for shopping for myself. Then Wendy reminded me that all the stuff I was getting was stuff no one else would've got for me, so that was okay.
After getting my TV stand, though, I came home and decided to rearrange my bedroom. I shifted several things over in the room so that the bed isn't right next to the window, moved the nightstand that the TV was on to between the bed and the window, and put the TV and various other stuff on the TV stand. Looks like it'll work out real well, actually. Besides, the TV stand was only $15.
Anyway, I'm off to do laundry and write lesson plans for the coming week or two. Wee.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Marshall Tucker Band, "Fire on the Mountain"
Wendy somehow convinced me to go shopping with her, Meg, and Michelle at Potomac Mills yesterday. Now, I usually make it a habit to not go shopping the day after Thanksgiving. Sure, you find great bargains, but all the stupid people you have to contend with usually counterbalances any benefits. Anyway, we really lucked out: found a great parking spot, managed to avoid most of the really stupid people by the utilization of a "don't bother me you idiot" field, and actually found some pretty spiffy stuff. Now, the funny thing is, most of the things we bought were not for Christmas presents. Wen found some shelf things at IKEA to store videos in, I found a TV stand for my room at the same, a suit jacket (regularly like $300, on sale for $40. How could I have passed that up?), and some flannel sheets. Admittedly, I've only got three or four people left to shop for and payday is next week, but part of me felt a little guilty for shopping for myself. Then Wendy reminded me that all the stuff I was getting was stuff no one else would've got for me, so that was okay.
After getting my TV stand, though, I came home and decided to rearrange my bedroom. I shifted several things over in the room so that the bed isn't right next to the window, moved the nightstand that the TV was on to between the bed and the window, and put the TV and various other stuff on the TV stand. Looks like it'll work out real well, actually. Besides, the TV stand was only $15.
Anyway, I'm off to do laundry and write lesson plans for the coming week or two. Wee.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Marshall Tucker Band, "Fire on the Mountain"
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
"When The Devil Came, He Was Not Red"
Ah, the final day before Thanksgiving. It's only a half day here at the school, which I've no complaints about. I think I'm going to help Wen do some painting at her school after class lets out this afternoon.
Had a long chat with the director of the school yesterday. Basically she asked me if I was still even interested in teaching, given that I've seemed less than enthusiastic lately. And while it was a valid question, I'm still a little hurt by the way she phrased it. There were probably several better ways for her to have phrased the question. I mean, she could have just asked if I thought I was doing okay or if there was anything she could do to help make my job easier or less frustrating. You'd think a woman who is concerned with making sure we treat these kids with respect and don't bruise their fragile egos would be more tactful, but that's surely beside the point.
Honestly, her question was valid. I've been struggling with a couple of my classes and feeling rather disengaged. I'm trying to get back into the swing of things, and the reintegrated English 8 class has gone a long way to lowering my frustration level. We'll just have to see how it goes from here.
Well, duty calls, and it looks like the bitch is calling collect.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Eric Clapton, "The Core"
Had a long chat with the director of the school yesterday. Basically she asked me if I was still even interested in teaching, given that I've seemed less than enthusiastic lately. And while it was a valid question, I'm still a little hurt by the way she phrased it. There were probably several better ways for her to have phrased the question. I mean, she could have just asked if I thought I was doing okay or if there was anything she could do to help make my job easier or less frustrating. You'd think a woman who is concerned with making sure we treat these kids with respect and don't bruise their fragile egos would be more tactful, but that's surely beside the point.
Honestly, her question was valid. I've been struggling with a couple of my classes and feeling rather disengaged. I'm trying to get back into the swing of things, and the reintegrated English 8 class has gone a long way to lowering my frustration level. We'll just have to see how it goes from here.
Well, duty calls, and it looks like the bitch is calling collect.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Eric Clapton, "The Core"
Monday, November 21, 2005
Wilco - Kicking Television - Live in Chicago
Wilco's recent albums have pushed boundaries and challenged their listeners, but they've moved away from the raw energy of their earlier releases. This isn't to say they haven't been great albums, simply that the band has focused on creating a mood and a powerful style rather than on rocking out. Kicking Television changes that.
First and foremost, you'll notice that the mannered, measured style of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born has been exchanged for energy and unfettered enthusiasm. Listen to the crescendo at the end of the album opener, "Misunderstood," with the band pounding on their instruments as Jeff Tweedy screams the word "nothing" over and over again. Guitars are looser, Tweedy's vocals are more raw, and the band is so in-tune with one another than even missed notes feel like they are a necessary part of the greater plan.
The best thing about Kicking Television is that Wilco doesn't simply trot out the their best-known tunes and play them exactly the same as they appear on the album. They alter each song just enough to make the songs fresh, new, and somehow familiar and comfortable. Take the organ in "Hell is Chrome," or the Neil Young-like guitar solo in "The Late Greats." The violin part from "Jesus, Etc." is played by a pedal steel guitar to great effect.
Song selection is fantastic on this album. Virtually all of the songs come from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Ghost, with a couple from SummerTeeth, "Misunderstood" from Being There, and a pair of Mermaid Avenue tunes, "One by One" and "Airline to Heaven." The album ebbs and flows well, switching gears from up-tempo to slow and meditative without any stumbles.
Really, this album stands as a testament to the band's power as a live act. Song selection is excellent, the band is on fire throughout, and the audience responds accordingly. This record casts Wilco's songs in a new light, the band reinventing the tunes to exceptional effect. This album is a must have for any Wilco fan.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Wilco, "Shot in the Arm (Live)"
First and foremost, you'll notice that the mannered, measured style of Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and A Ghost is Born has been exchanged for energy and unfettered enthusiasm. Listen to the crescendo at the end of the album opener, "Misunderstood," with the band pounding on their instruments as Jeff Tweedy screams the word "nothing" over and over again. Guitars are looser, Tweedy's vocals are more raw, and the band is so in-tune with one another than even missed notes feel like they are a necessary part of the greater plan.
The best thing about Kicking Television is that Wilco doesn't simply trot out the their best-known tunes and play them exactly the same as they appear on the album. They alter each song just enough to make the songs fresh, new, and somehow familiar and comfortable. Take the organ in "Hell is Chrome," or the Neil Young-like guitar solo in "The Late Greats." The violin part from "Jesus, Etc." is played by a pedal steel guitar to great effect.
Song selection is fantastic on this album. Virtually all of the songs come from Yankee Hotel Foxtrot and Ghost, with a couple from SummerTeeth, "Misunderstood" from Being There, and a pair of Mermaid Avenue tunes, "One by One" and "Airline to Heaven." The album ebbs and flows well, switching gears from up-tempo to slow and meditative without any stumbles.
Really, this album stands as a testament to the band's power as a live act. Song selection is excellent, the band is on fire throughout, and the audience responds accordingly. This record casts Wilco's songs in a new light, the band reinventing the tunes to exceptional effect. This album is a must have for any Wilco fan.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Wilco, "Shot in the Arm (Live)"
Saturday, November 19, 2005
"Where Are You Tonight Sweet Marie?"
Busy, busy week behind me. My English 8 class got reintegrated into the other class on Thursday, mostly as a result of me finally losing my temper with the little bastards on Wednesday and spending a good ten minutes chewing the kids out. That day made me feel like a complete failure, mostly because the kids finally made me lose my cool. It probably didn't help that, in the middle of my tirade about how their behavior made it impossible for me to teach them, they started bickering and fighting again and I just lost it and yelled at them and sent them to the dean's office.
But the reintegration has helped. The kids are better behaved, in part because there are other kids for them to interact with and the two who do not like one another don't have to deal with each other. It's made the rest of my school day that much easier to deal with, too.
Wen, Tim, and I went to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last night. It was a good film, though I could have waited to see it (opening night + small children = a somewhat annoying movie experience, but at least there weren't too many little little kids). My biggest complaint is that the plot seems so streamlined. I understand why they have to do it (it's tough to cram 800 pages into a 2 1/2 hour film), and why each film has cut more and more of the extraneous subplots away (each book has been longer than the last, of course), but it's hard not to wish for some of the side stuff--like the whole thing with Rita Skeeter being an illegal animagus (yeah yeah, spoiler spoiler, but the book's several years old and well past the statute of limitations at this point, I'm sure) or any of a dozen other little things that the books have that the movies don't--because the film seems a little unbalanced because of it. It's rather like Lucas's Star Wars Prequels: they're real heavy on plot, everything has to happen in rapid succession, and there's less time for character development because you spend all your time telling the core story. It's the side stories that add the extra details, the quirks of character that take someone from being a two-dimensional cookie-cutter hero to being a fully-actualized human being. Admittedly, this is also just part of the problem with adapting a movie from a book, but it's hard not to wish that you could see more of Harry than just "reluctant hero" or more of Ron than just "mopey putz," etc.
I also managed to get a haircut this week. Admittedly, Wendy cut it for me, so it was free, and it's not the most perfect haircut ever, but it's serviceable and my hair is shorter and I don't look like a complete moe.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: George Harrison, "Absolutely Sweet Marie (Live)"
But the reintegration has helped. The kids are better behaved, in part because there are other kids for them to interact with and the two who do not like one another don't have to deal with each other. It's made the rest of my school day that much easier to deal with, too.
Wen, Tim, and I went to see Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire last night. It was a good film, though I could have waited to see it (opening night + small children = a somewhat annoying movie experience, but at least there weren't too many little little kids). My biggest complaint is that the plot seems so streamlined. I understand why they have to do it (it's tough to cram 800 pages into a 2 1/2 hour film), and why each film has cut more and more of the extraneous subplots away (each book has been longer than the last, of course), but it's hard not to wish for some of the side stuff--like the whole thing with Rita Skeeter being an illegal animagus (yeah yeah, spoiler spoiler, but the book's several years old and well past the statute of limitations at this point, I'm sure) or any of a dozen other little things that the books have that the movies don't--because the film seems a little unbalanced because of it. It's rather like Lucas's Star Wars Prequels: they're real heavy on plot, everything has to happen in rapid succession, and there's less time for character development because you spend all your time telling the core story. It's the side stories that add the extra details, the quirks of character that take someone from being a two-dimensional cookie-cutter hero to being a fully-actualized human being. Admittedly, this is also just part of the problem with adapting a movie from a book, but it's hard not to wish that you could see more of Harry than just "reluctant hero" or more of Ron than just "mopey putz," etc.
I also managed to get a haircut this week. Admittedly, Wendy cut it for me, so it was free, and it's not the most perfect haircut ever, but it's serviceable and my hair is shorter and I don't look like a complete moe.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: George Harrison, "Absolutely Sweet Marie (Live)"
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
"He's Here To Rectify"
So I decided the other day that the automobile industry has finally just started picking words completely at random for car names when I saw an SUV by Isuhzu called an Axiom.
That's right, Axiom. The thing that's like a postulate. I expect to see the Toyota Aphorism or the Nissan Philosophical Concept anyday now.
I got a lot of my Christmas shopping done yesterday. As far as family members are concerned; I just need to find something for dad. And find stuff for my friends. But I've got presents for mom, Scott, and Clyde already.
I also picked up Wilco's Kicking Television yesterday, and it makes me happy in ways I can't share in polite company.
Okay, back to work, I guess. School calls.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Wilco, "Wishful Thinking (Live)"
That's right, Axiom. The thing that's like a postulate. I expect to see the Toyota Aphorism or the Nissan Philosophical Concept anyday now.
I got a lot of my Christmas shopping done yesterday. As far as family members are concerned; I just need to find something for dad. And find stuff for my friends. But I've got presents for mom, Scott, and Clyde already.
I also picked up Wilco's Kicking Television yesterday, and it makes me happy in ways I can't share in polite company.
Okay, back to work, I guess. School calls.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Wilco, "Wishful Thinking (Live)"
Friday, November 11, 2005
"Jokers To The Right"
Despite the fact that it's been a "short" week (what with having no students on Monday and Tuesday...but still had to work, what with workshops and doing grades and stuff), it's been a terribly trying week. I can't really explain what's been so bad about it, aside from waking up late for work Wednesday and Thursday, having a terrible time with students' behavior in my English class, and getting a bit of a dressing down from the director and my supervising history teacher about my teaching methods (less lecture, more activities so the kids are actively learning). It's just been...rough.
Part of it is just run-down batteries. I feel totally drained, and I keep feeling like I'm screwing everything up with the teaching. Some of my classes frustrate me, some of them I don't feel like I'm doing anything effective, and I'm just worried that I'm failing in my responsibilities as a teacher.
I basically need to spend the entire weekend reevaluating everything I understand about teaching and learning. Part of my problem, of course, is that I keep trying to teach them the same way that I learn information, and that just doesn't work. The other is that I really don't have any formal training in education. I'm having to pick it up as I go along.
I still think I can be a successful teacher, it's just going to be more challenging than I thought it would. I can't just lecture and make them read the book; I can't just sit up there and hope they soak up the information from listening to me cover the material over and over. It's going to take something different, and that's going to require creativity of a sort I'm not used to.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Led Zeppelin, "Bron-Y-Aur Stomp"
Part of it is just run-down batteries. I feel totally drained, and I keep feeling like I'm screwing everything up with the teaching. Some of my classes frustrate me, some of them I don't feel like I'm doing anything effective, and I'm just worried that I'm failing in my responsibilities as a teacher.
I basically need to spend the entire weekend reevaluating everything I understand about teaching and learning. Part of my problem, of course, is that I keep trying to teach them the same way that I learn information, and that just doesn't work. The other is that I really don't have any formal training in education. I'm having to pick it up as I go along.
I still think I can be a successful teacher, it's just going to be more challenging than I thought it would. I can't just lecture and make them read the book; I can't just sit up there and hope they soak up the information from listening to me cover the material over and over. It's going to take something different, and that's going to require creativity of a sort I'm not used to.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Led Zeppelin, "Bron-Y-Aur Stomp"
Monday, November 07, 2005
Jackson Browne - Solo Acoustic, Volume 1
If the Volume 1 in the title of this album is indicative of future installments, I will be a very happy camper indeed. Jackson Browne mixes a little of the obvious with a little of the obscure to create a magnificent live recording.
All of the songs are either Browne alone on an acoustic guitar or on a piano. Browne is in fine voice throughout, his mellow vocals as fine as you could ask for. The stories he tells about songs and in between songs are hit and miss, though, sometimes providing interesting details into a song's history and sometimes just seeming irrelevant (honestly, do we really need to hear about his efforts to collect all the different translations of "Take it Easy"? Not really). Perhaps the most amusing anecdote is the one about an audience member asking him to play "Peaceful, Easy Feeling," a song he really had nothing to do with (but write one song that the Eagles make their own, and someone assumes you're connected to all of their tunes, I guess). The intros and stories are interesting to hear, but not something you really need to hear every single time. Thankfully, the album is sequenced in a way that allows you to skip the between-song chatter and jump right to the beginning of the songs themselves.
There's lots to love here. The song selection is, as mentioned, excellent: there are plenty of familiar fan favorites ("The Pretender," "Barricade of Heaven," "Take it Easy," "These Days") and some less familiar tunes (the never-before-released "Too Many Angels," "The Birds of St. Marks," and "For a Dancer" spring to mind) that are still just as good as the Browne tunes you'd hear on the radio. Browne makes each song engaging and worthwhile, and there's enough variation to keep the proceedings interesting.
My favorite part of the CD is "Take it Easy." I've wanted to hear Browne do the tune for years, since I've only ever heard the Eagles play it. Hearing him play it, you can tell it's a tune he wrote, something I'd never really picked up from listening to the Eagles' version. There's a hint of melancholy running through the song, just as with most Browne songs, and it gives the song a very interesting twist.
Ultimately, this is a fantastic set for anyone who loves Browne's work. It's probably not the best place to be introduced to his body of work, but for anyone already familiar with Browne, it's a great collection with more depth than your typical best of or live set.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Jackson Browne, "The Pretender (Live)"
All of the songs are either Browne alone on an acoustic guitar or on a piano. Browne is in fine voice throughout, his mellow vocals as fine as you could ask for. The stories he tells about songs and in between songs are hit and miss, though, sometimes providing interesting details into a song's history and sometimes just seeming irrelevant (honestly, do we really need to hear about his efforts to collect all the different translations of "Take it Easy"? Not really). Perhaps the most amusing anecdote is the one about an audience member asking him to play "Peaceful, Easy Feeling," a song he really had nothing to do with (but write one song that the Eagles make their own, and someone assumes you're connected to all of their tunes, I guess). The intros and stories are interesting to hear, but not something you really need to hear every single time. Thankfully, the album is sequenced in a way that allows you to skip the between-song chatter and jump right to the beginning of the songs themselves.
There's lots to love here. The song selection is, as mentioned, excellent: there are plenty of familiar fan favorites ("The Pretender," "Barricade of Heaven," "Take it Easy," "These Days") and some less familiar tunes (the never-before-released "Too Many Angels," "The Birds of St. Marks," and "For a Dancer" spring to mind) that are still just as good as the Browne tunes you'd hear on the radio. Browne makes each song engaging and worthwhile, and there's enough variation to keep the proceedings interesting.
My favorite part of the CD is "Take it Easy." I've wanted to hear Browne do the tune for years, since I've only ever heard the Eagles play it. Hearing him play it, you can tell it's a tune he wrote, something I'd never really picked up from listening to the Eagles' version. There's a hint of melancholy running through the song, just as with most Browne songs, and it gives the song a very interesting twist.
Ultimately, this is a fantastic set for anyone who loves Browne's work. It's probably not the best place to be introduced to his body of work, but for anyone already familiar with Browne, it's a great collection with more depth than your typical best of or live set.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Jackson Browne, "The Pretender (Live)"
"Like A Blister In The Sun"
Spent my Sunday helping out with Wendy's set building up at the high school. We made some good headway, but the day was not without its casualties.
Yeah, word of advice: if you strip the head of a screw and decide to try to remove said screw--which has been under considerable strain and friction, mind you--don't try to remove the screw with your bare hands. For the love of God, don't try to remove it with your bare hands. I'm not going to be able to play the guitar for days, which oddly enough is the part about the whole experience that annoys me most.
Anyway, off for bed. Have to wake up in a few hours and head into work, even though the students are off. I tell ya, I miss being a student and getting the holidays off.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Jackson Browne, "Take it Easy (Live)"
Yeah, word of advice: if you strip the head of a screw and decide to try to remove said screw--which has been under considerable strain and friction, mind you--don't try to remove the screw with your bare hands. For the love of God, don't try to remove it with your bare hands. I'm not going to be able to play the guitar for days, which oddly enough is the part about the whole experience that annoys me most.
Anyway, off for bed. Have to wake up in a few hours and head into work, even though the students are off. I tell ya, I miss being a student and getting the holidays off.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Jackson Browne, "Take it Easy (Live)"
Sunday, November 06, 2005
"A NIght At The Opera"
Spent a good part of the weekend attending plays. Friday night, Wendy, Tim, and I went to DC to see a friend of ours from the church choir in The Mikado, a Gilbert & Sullivan opera that was pretty damn impressive. Musically, you really couldn't beat it; our one complaint was that the director decided to "augment" the original script with some jokes about current US politics. As a result, several moments were like a musical version of Jay Leno. The real problem was that the contemporary jokes didn't gel well with the stuff Gilbert and Sullivan wrote, so they fell kinda flat. Honestly, it wasn't necessary to bring those in. But overall, the play was quite entertaining, especially since it only cost us ten bucks apiece (which is about what you'd pay for a movie anymore, so it was a pretty good deal).
We almost didn't get to see the play, though. When I went online to look up directions to the place, I used the address from a little e-flyer that Felicity (the friend we were there to see) sent me. Unfortunately, the address on there was for an office the group putting on the show had, so we were on the wrong side of the city. What's more, I paid $15 for parking at this wrong location. Luckily, we ran into some good fortune: a girl who worked in the office next door to where we went looked up the correct address for us, and the guys in the parking garage refunded us our total fee. We ended up missing the first 20 minutes or so of the play, but we were still able to follow what was happening.
Saturday afternoon, I wandered around DC (again) with Michelle and a couple of her friends. We mostly went up there to visit the Corcoran Museum to see the big Andy Warhol exhibit they had going. My string of bizarrely good luck held true: we got in for free because it was family weekend. We ended up making a small donation anyway, though, just for the sake of it. The exhibit was interesting, though I'm still not entirely convinced that I really care much for Warhol's work. I think he was mostly just a bullshit artist, pulling different stunts and trying different weird things to see how long it would be before someone just said, "Okay, enough is enough, that's just absurd," and no one ever got around to calling him on it. I won't deny his impact on art or popular culture, because to do so would be rather stupid, but I don't necessarily care for most of his stuff and I don't really fully understand most of it. If taking a couple of Polaroids of knives sitting on a white countertop is art, then let me go buy film for my old Polaroid camera right now.
Saturday night, Wen, Tim, and I went to see a local high school perform a play called Urinetown. We ended up getting into this show for free because of some pass thing Wendy has and because no one stops you when you act like you have every right to be where you are. The show sold out as we were standing in line to get tickets, so instead of leaving with everyone else in line, we marched up, Wendy showed the usher at the door her pass, and we walked right in unhindered. The show itself was interesting for several reasons: the set design and execution was spectacular, the chroreography was top-notch, and the play itself was fairly original and had a couple of nice twists (like the hero dying and the good guys losing in the end, but as the narrator commented a couple of times, "this isn't a nice show"). It was billed as something very edgy, but having seen it, I don't know that it was particularly provacative. Sure, it had a bit of language and some sexually suggestive lines, but the songs were pretty standard musical fare and the play itself was pretty straight forward. Entertaining, most assuredly, but not without flaws (the singers, while good, weren't particularly strong).
Sunday's itenerary is pretty full. We're going to church in the morning and then heading directly to Wendy's school to build on the set. At some point, we'll come back to the apartment and I'll hopefully wash the rest of my laundry and call my grandmother to wish her a happy birthday.
So yeah, full weekend. Monday is a teacher workday at school, so I'll be doing a few parent-teacher conferences and getting my grades figured out (and a lot of other administrative paperwork-type things). Tuesday is some sort of workshop/conference thing that I really don't want to attend, but I don't really have a choice.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Blue Mountain, "Generic America"
We almost didn't get to see the play, though. When I went online to look up directions to the place, I used the address from a little e-flyer that Felicity (the friend we were there to see) sent me. Unfortunately, the address on there was for an office the group putting on the show had, so we were on the wrong side of the city. What's more, I paid $15 for parking at this wrong location. Luckily, we ran into some good fortune: a girl who worked in the office next door to where we went looked up the correct address for us, and the guys in the parking garage refunded us our total fee. We ended up missing the first 20 minutes or so of the play, but we were still able to follow what was happening.
Saturday afternoon, I wandered around DC (again) with Michelle and a couple of her friends. We mostly went up there to visit the Corcoran Museum to see the big Andy Warhol exhibit they had going. My string of bizarrely good luck held true: we got in for free because it was family weekend. We ended up making a small donation anyway, though, just for the sake of it. The exhibit was interesting, though I'm still not entirely convinced that I really care much for Warhol's work. I think he was mostly just a bullshit artist, pulling different stunts and trying different weird things to see how long it would be before someone just said, "Okay, enough is enough, that's just absurd," and no one ever got around to calling him on it. I won't deny his impact on art or popular culture, because to do so would be rather stupid, but I don't necessarily care for most of his stuff and I don't really fully understand most of it. If taking a couple of Polaroids of knives sitting on a white countertop is art, then let me go buy film for my old Polaroid camera right now.
Saturday night, Wen, Tim, and I went to see a local high school perform a play called Urinetown. We ended up getting into this show for free because of some pass thing Wendy has and because no one stops you when you act like you have every right to be where you are. The show sold out as we were standing in line to get tickets, so instead of leaving with everyone else in line, we marched up, Wendy showed the usher at the door her pass, and we walked right in unhindered. The show itself was interesting for several reasons: the set design and execution was spectacular, the chroreography was top-notch, and the play itself was fairly original and had a couple of nice twists (like the hero dying and the good guys losing in the end, but as the narrator commented a couple of times, "this isn't a nice show"). It was billed as something very edgy, but having seen it, I don't know that it was particularly provacative. Sure, it had a bit of language and some sexually suggestive lines, but the songs were pretty standard musical fare and the play itself was pretty straight forward. Entertaining, most assuredly, but not without flaws (the singers, while good, weren't particularly strong).
Sunday's itenerary is pretty full. We're going to church in the morning and then heading directly to Wendy's school to build on the set. At some point, we'll come back to the apartment and I'll hopefully wash the rest of my laundry and call my grandmother to wish her a happy birthday.
So yeah, full weekend. Monday is a teacher workday at school, so I'll be doing a few parent-teacher conferences and getting my grades figured out (and a lot of other administrative paperwork-type things). Tuesday is some sort of workshop/conference thing that I really don't want to attend, but I don't really have a choice.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Blue Mountain, "Generic America"
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
"Six-String Belief"
The school's found someone to help me teach the music class on Thursday afternoons. I'm supposed to call the guy this afternoon before I leave work and arrange to have him come by tomorrow and join us.
Part of me will be glad of the help. I mean, I know how to play the guitar fairly well, but my technical mastery of the instrument is far from perfect. My vocabulary for describing what to do is not totally adequate. So having an extra person who probably has a different understanding of how the guitar works is good.
Really, when you get right down to it, my understanding of the guitar is much like my understanding of the English language and grammar and my understanding of art and drawing. I do these things intuitively, as a result of repetition and an instinctive understanding that I need to draw this line to achieve the desired effect, or use that phrase to express what I'm looking for, or put the words in this order for them to make sense. I understand how things ought to be, ought to look, or ought to sound, but I'll be damned if I can explain the why of it.
Which is rather ironic, when I think about it, because I've always thought the most important question to ask about anything was "why." I always want to know why. It's the reason I've never understood math: they could tell me that using this formula or equation would give me the right answer, but they could never tell me why that worked.
Anyway, the whole point is that maybe this guy will approach the guitar in a very different manner, perhaps one which is more methodical and less...well, loose, I guess. And extra help can't hurt, really. There are four or five kids in there already, and it's tough for me to address each one individually, especially since a couple of them are going to be playing different instruments (drums, keyboards, etc.). Guess we'll see how it goes after tomorrow.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Placebo, "Pure Morning"
Part of me will be glad of the help. I mean, I know how to play the guitar fairly well, but my technical mastery of the instrument is far from perfect. My vocabulary for describing what to do is not totally adequate. So having an extra person who probably has a different understanding of how the guitar works is good.
Really, when you get right down to it, my understanding of the guitar is much like my understanding of the English language and grammar and my understanding of art and drawing. I do these things intuitively, as a result of repetition and an instinctive understanding that I need to draw this line to achieve the desired effect, or use that phrase to express what I'm looking for, or put the words in this order for them to make sense. I understand how things ought to be, ought to look, or ought to sound, but I'll be damned if I can explain the why of it.
Which is rather ironic, when I think about it, because I've always thought the most important question to ask about anything was "why." I always want to know why. It's the reason I've never understood math: they could tell me that using this formula or equation would give me the right answer, but they could never tell me why that worked.
Anyway, the whole point is that maybe this guy will approach the guitar in a very different manner, perhaps one which is more methodical and less...well, loose, I guess. And extra help can't hurt, really. There are four or five kids in there already, and it's tough for me to address each one individually, especially since a couple of them are going to be playing different instruments (drums, keyboards, etc.). Guess we'll see how it goes after tomorrow.
~chuck
Song of the Moment: Placebo, "Pure Morning"
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