Blindsided by the Flight

I am, by nature, a practical man, not prone to impulse or extravagance. And so when my friend T.J. recently offered that he had an extra ticket for the Bruce Springsteen show on Sunday, July 27 at Giants Stadium in East Rutherford, New Jersey, I begged off, reasoning that I had exploited enough of my wife’s good will on my three-day excursion to Philadelphia a few weeks back.

Exploited, but apparently not exhausted, because when I recounted the story a day later, she said “Springsteen? In New Jersey? With T.J.? You said ‘NO’?”, incredulous that I had passed on the chance to see Him in the Holy Land on what may be the last big go-round for the E Street Band.

Given the green light, I made plans for a surgical strike on the Garden State. Leave Kansas City early Sunday, change planes in Minneapolis (you can’t go direct to anywhere from Kansas City; if you needed to go to Minneapolis, they’d route you through Anchorage), arrive at LaGuardia at 1:59 p.m., show at 7:30. Even if my flight was a couple of hours late, we’d have time to spare! Baby, we were born to run!

The alarm clanged at 5:15 a.m., and I sprang out of bed, caught a quick shower, hit the road and parked at the terminal at 6:02. Got through the gate, grabbed a cup of coffee, and we were airborne an hour later. We touched down in Minnesota (there really are 10,000 lakes; I counted them on the way in) a few minutes before our scheduled 8:26 arrival. Straight out of the jetway, I checked the screen with the day’s departures, found my flight to New York, and saw the two little words that lift the spirits of all travelers. “In Mpls,” I texted T.J., “On time to LAG.” Following LaGuardia info online, he shot back “You’re actually a little early.” This couldn’t be going any better! We’ll have time to drop my stuff off at the house and then stop in at the diner where Tony Soprano stopped believin’ before heading to the Meadowlands. No retreat, baby, no surrender!

A half-full Northwest Airlines flight leaves the gate on schedule, and we hit cruising altitude. I have a row to myself and The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay in my hands. I don’t even care that they have Diet Pepsi and not Diet Coke on this plane. I believe in a promised land!

We’re well into a flawless flight, somewhere over Pennsylvania, when the captain comes on and says there’s some bad weather in New York and we may have to hold for a while. No problem, we’ll be a few minutes late. Oh-oh-oh thunder road, oh thunder road, oh thunder road! Then he says “if we hold too long we may have to make an emergency landing to pick up some fuel before heading on in to New York.” Oh. That sounds sort of ominous. Still, suppose we’re even three hours late. We skip the diner, head straight to the stadium, and proceed to rock out with the coolest AARP-eligible band on the planet. Let’s prove it all night!

Then, twenty minutes later, the blow I never saw coming. “Folks, it seems that the weather is such that the entire eastern seaboard is closed for business. The tower has advised us to turn around and head back to Minneapolis.” To . . . where? What? Minneapolis? You sure it wasn’t Annapolis? Really? Oh.

I did the math in my head. I knew. What can I do, what can I say, I don’t wanna fade away.

Two hours later, we hit the runway. I made the requisite vaguely despondent phone calls, and booked a flight that was scheduled to touch down in Kansas City just as Bruce hit the stage in New Jersey.

I called Trip, who is coming out here to see the Boss with me on August 24. “At least we’ll have the show in Kansas City,” he says. “Yeah,” I reply, “it better be one ******** great show.” Sometimes I feel like I’m a rider on a downbound train.

Ting-ing in The Rain

Bounc-ting on the stage like the bleach blonde spawn of Debbie Harry, Chrissie Hynde and Nancy Sinatra (or Nina Persson for you hipsters), Ting Ting lead tinger Katie White launched a slap-happy new wave dance party that wouldn’t let up at last night’s sold out Philadelphia show. The Ting Tings are a British role reversed White Stripes with the emphasis on the groove rather than the riff.

Opening with the piano driven opening of insistent percolator "We Walk", it was clear there would be no tentative stage theatrics from this bubbly, beat crazy duo. They raced through 8 of 10 songs from their debut disc in a whirlwhind 35 minute set. Highlights included ipod star maker "Shut Up And Let Me Go" (a kiss off/demand for their former record label) which sounds like a great lost Blondie classic, the edgy lost girl lament "That's Not My Name" and the electro whimsy of lover's plea "Traffic Light" ("our slow one" according to White) ditches the big beat for a 60's styled soft pop treatment. The show's sole encore was a cacaphonous, eight minute rave-up of title track "We Started Nothing" which showed the couple could cause quite a ruckus.

The Ting Tings won't save rock and roll, and my guess is their album will soon be consigned to the summer of '08 obscurity pile, but they were able to electrify a room on a steamy, stormy July night at Philadelphia's best venue. (And can we give it up one time for Johnny Brenda's... I'd see just about anybody there).

The Tings Tings - Shut Up And Let Me Go

The Ting Tings - Traffic Light

E. Rutherford Shuffle

Bruce, 

If you’re reading, and we suspect you are, I have a request.  Being neither in my early fifties nor from the eastern seaboard, I’ve not seen you play the dozens upon dozens of times that my buddy Trip has.  But I have seen you play in three different cities (Kansas City, St. Louis, Chicago), and I’m about to make it four, as I head to the Garden State for this Sunday’s show at Giants Stadium.  That will mark the longest trip I’ve ever made for the express purpose of seeing a rock and roll show.  While you’re understandably flattered, it was an easy call to make, seeing you, on your home turf, on perhaps the last big go-round with the band, with my friend T.J.  So really, don’t mention it. 

What I’m trying to say is that I’ve perused the internet for the set lists of the shows I’ve attended, and you’ve managed not to play some of my favorites on the occasions I’ve seen you.  So, if you can find it in your heart to play something from the following list, I’d be grateful.

1. Rosalita

2. Jungleland

3. Lost in the Flood

4. Tunnel of Love

5. Spirit in the Night

6. It’s Hard to be a Saint in the City

7. Detroit Medley

8. Kitty’s Back

9. The Fever

10. E Street Shuffle 

And if you can’t get to any of these on Sunday, that’s cool.  You can make it up to me on August 24 in Kansas City.

50 (+ 1)

Everything I wrote a year ago remains true, except that he's 51 now and we actually have met. He's a terrific man, decent and funny and generous, with a lust for life and music that astounds and inspires me. So happy birthday, partner. Here's two more for the list:

2007
Jeremy Fisher - Scar that Never Heals

2008
Felice Brothers - Frankie's Gun

. . . Yeah, But He's My Nerd

Trip gets quoted in Dan DeLuca's Philly Inquirer story about the demise of The Spectrum.

Trip McClatchy, 50, of Havertown, who blogs about music at teenkicks.blogspot.com, saw James Taylor there in 1972, the first of McClatchy's 76 Spectrum shows. (He has them on an Excel spreadsheet.) He ranks the Faces with Rod Stewart in 1973 second to Springsteen. But he also remembers seeing Slade, Jo Jo Gunne and Brownsville Station in 1974, and taking his younger brother Kevin to see Kansas in 1977, only to have him sleep through the show except for "Carry On Wayward Son."

That's seventy-six shows at the Spectrum alone. I'm told that the spreadsheet - which lists every show the man has ever seen - currently has 1,404 entries, with Ezra Furman & The Harpoons and The Redwalls being the most recent addition.

The dude makes my obsessions seem like minor habits.

Fleet Foxes Sell Out?

Shuffling aimlessly on stage as they prepared for last night’s jammed, sweltering show at Philadelphia’s First Unitarian Church did not prepare the audience for the exacting precision of the angelic, often four-part harmonies that were the clear stars of Seattle’s Fleet Foxes magical, mystical, suffocating (did I mention it was sweltering) campfire chorale hoedown.

The band seems to draw from a wellspring of influences, from Brother era Beach Boys to a less reverbed Jim James, from Crosby, Stills and Nash to Crosby by himself (I believe you, Feeney), from traditional English folk to barbershop quartets, from the current freak folks to the psych pop of The Zombies and a huge helping of southern California soft rock (Bread, America, Mamas and Papas). Apparently not an influence – Band of Horses.

Starting the show with the gorgeous opening a capella moments of the stunner “Sun Giant” (the title track of their debut EP) and it’s first line “What a life I lead in the summer”, it was a definite signal that Sub Pop’s latest uber-buzz band was going to treat the assembled punk rockers, pasty faced wallflowers and scattered geezers to an unusual show, and the church’s hot-house basement was the perfect setting.

Clearly the band was thrilled with the rapturous reception and frequently gave thanks to the crowd, occasionally tossing out bottles of water from the stage or just dousing the kids up front with the same holy water. They asked that one of the teetering ceiling fans be turned off and were quickly hooted down by the delirious mass who decided decapitation by ceiling fan was preferable to the room temperature edging up by even one degree. (Seriously, it was hot.)

The highlights were many – including the “hard-to-believe-they-pulled-it-off-live” voices in the round of the haunting, heart stopping “White Winter Hymnal”, the final encore of the grief stricken confessional of “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song”, the jangly, Paul McCartney cribbing (“Whoa my love, Whoa my love, Whoa my love, Whoa…”) of “English House” and a solo turn by lead singer on “Oliver James” that was preceded by an unlikely yet spellbinding cover of “Crayon Angels” by 70’s tragic folkie Judee Sill. These guys know their shit.

So did the Fleet Foxes sell out? Prompted by a fan’s request that pleaded “Don’t ever, ever sell out”, singer Pecknold engaged the interloper in a short dialogue. When he asked the young cub what selling out was, the response was “selling thousands and thousands of records”. Pecknold parried that that was “selling, not selling out… so define selling out”. The fan quickly shot back “Don’t be Band of Horses!”. Pecknold just as quickly quipped “Don’t worry, we won’t”.

So there it is – sold out, but not sell outs. And most likely owners of the most talked about, most startling, most accomplished debut of 2008.

Fleet Foxes - Oliver James mp3

Fleet Foxes - Sun Giant mp3

Judee Sill - Crayon Angels mp3

Positive Reviews

The reviews are starting to come in for The Hold Steady's fourth album, Stay Positive, already out digitally and due in stores next week. The consensus: it's good, really good.

My review is in the new issue of The Providence Phoenix (thanks, Mr. Editor!). Some reputable folks have also weighed in, like the Village Voice, Uncut, Rolling Stone and MTV, among others.

What do you think of the record? Leave us a comment.

In Philadelphia, Where I Met Satan

Left to right: Craig, Satan, me, Kurt, Chip, Mike

A few weeks ago, I snuck into Philadelphia under cover of darkness as part of a rolling series of surprises for my longtime friend Kurt on his fortieth birthday, a 72-hour operation orchestrated by Kurt’s wife Claire with a shocking, almost militaristic, level of precision, foresight and secrecy.

The travels also allowed Trip and me to hold some long-overdue and high-level Teenage Kicks editorial board meetings, fueled by hops, malt and rock and roll. The consensus coming out of those meetings: We’ve got to ramp this thing up.

Thursday night’s main attraction was Rilo Kiley at the Electric Factory, which followed burgers and beers at North Third. Philly, let me say this: You rule the beer world. Great brews can be found in any bar on any corner. I swear this is true: On Friday, I threw a rock into a tree, and a perfectly-poured Hoegaarden fell into my hand, with lovingly-sliced lemon floating on top.

Kurt and Claire and I were joined for the evening by Trip and his bride Cathy, making a rare rock and roll show appearance, and our friends Mary and Kevin, up from Baltimore for the night. The epic conversation and panoply of on-tap offerings prevented us from catching the first two acts on the bill, but Jenny Lewis and her man-slaves put on a shimmering show that looked something like this:



The next day featured more beer and rock and roll, as we caught Langhorne Slim’s noontime set at World Café Live (thanks to XPN’s Deb Ashmore and the many friendly friends who treated me like a brother on our visit to the station). Slim and his War Eagles put on a high-energy hootenanny at the bargain-basement price of free.



Later that afternoon, Kurt and I (by now joined by Chip, just in from Ann Arbor) were across town, about to enter Standard Tap, when we encountered Slim and a lovely companion on the street. Though happy to be recognized, Slim was a tad crestfallen when we awkwardly confessed that we couldn’t make it to that night’s show (though I have since bought your disc, Slim; I hope that’s sufficient consolation).

The weekend’s entertainment high point, however, indisputably happened on Saturday night. With the Phillies out of town, we found our sporting fix with the Philly Roller Girls, enjoying a roller derby double-header pitting the Broad Street Butchers vs. the Dutchland Rollers and the Heavy Metal Hookers vs. the Philthy Britches. Sitting just inches from the action in our VIP seats, it quickly became clear that the competition was for real. Featuring delightful young women with names like Robin Drugstores, Felony Griffith and Heavy Flo, it was all-out serious stuff that often ended up in our laps after collisions in the corners shot bodies off the track like human cannonballs. Here’s a big salute to Mo Pain, the Michael Jordan of Philly women’s roller derby. The girl can skate.

In between bouts, we were treated to the dulcet tones of La Resistance, a local metal band fronted by the heretofore unknown child of Joey Ramone and Sarah Silverman. But the band’s purest genius rested in their physical formation, with co-lead guitarists, one left-handed and one right-handed, flanking the stage, guitars pointing outward, manifesting the band as nothing less than the devil’s horns writ large.

And speaking of Satan, she (yes, she) was there supporting her sisters in the Heavy Metal Hookers. More charming that you’d imagine, she graciously posed for pictures.

I Am Iron Man

I've had many nicknames - some good (The Kid, T Kid, Teek), some bad ("jackass"... thanks Feeney, "sink man") some both ("music enthusiast", "chief"), but none that I've held onto more dearly (at least for the last 60 hours) than "Iron Man", if only because a) it doesn't fit and b) it was fueled solely by my cheery intake of several Oliver Ironman Pale Ales during a time honored version of let's give everyone a nickname at dinner game. It's a game I like to play all the time so if I've tagged you (Reeber, Doctor, T Mahn, Jooooooey P, Pinhead, J Johnny Mezz, The Most Intense Man in America, Nooseball, Zeke, Baby, Jackass... again), I'm sorry.

This particular game took place at The Wharf Rat, a pleasant little beer and sandwich joint a few blocks away from Camden Yards and more importantly this night, several blocks from Ram's Head Live, a good sized rock club set down in the Inner Harbor's outdoor version of a suburban mall. The event - The Hold Steady returns to the stage either a) following the release of their latest masterpiece Stay Positive or b) preceding the release of their latest masterpiece Stay Positive. In 2008, release dates are fluid and this crowd most definitely has chosen a), as either the unofficial internet leak or the official itunes leak ($9.99 for files... PT Barnum lives!) has imbedded the new songs directly in the bloodstream and it's evident this crowd believes that "The sing-along songs will be our scriptures"... and sings/shouts/scream the lyrics to every song.

I won't beat you over the head with another Hold Steady valentine, but suffice it to say that any show that starts with these four songs ("Constructive Summer", "You Can Make Him Like You", "Your Little Hoodrat Friend" and "Banging Camp") immediately vaults itself into consideration for show of the year. Yes, they're that good and they're coming soon to a mid-sized bar near you. Go forth and be saved.

From the last strain of "Killer Parties", it's minutes before we head back up 95 in the "no roadies" car (ed. note: Rigby deserves a medal) as my two compatriots are probably carrying on an enlightening conversation about either architectural landscaping or bone biology. Me, I'm doing what I do best in a moving vehicle... sleeping (sorry about that, guys). Home at 2:30 and up at 6:45 (thank you beer pee!) to get Zeke home (nice move with the house alarm, by the way). My god - people actually have lives where they arise before 7:00 on the weekends and do things. I find that appalling.

So in quick order there's a short nap, two hours of tennis in 90+ heat, a trip to the pool, a nice dinner, a quick thought of another Hold Steady show in Philly that night (family member to me - "DAD... you're going out AGAIN! I thought we were gonna watch a movie."), a viewing of 10,000 B.C. (possibly the worst movie of the 21st century with the added insult of not being hilariously awful), followed by a show at The Khyber with local kids The Writers Club, A.A. Bondy and The Delta Spirit, who I will gush about in a soon to be written future post. Not now, though, it's bedtime. (But if you like a soulful mix of The Black Crowes, Ryan Adams and Oasis with some anthemic gang-style choruses, stay tuned.)

But to bring this story full circle, after another grueling two hours of tennis Sunday morning, I took my son and a couple of his buddies to see Iron Man, a perfect mix of smashing and exploding stuff, middle east paranoia and a supremely confident, star making (again) turn from Robert Downey, Jr. where, in the movie's final seconds (warning - spoiler alert!!), utters the four words that define the weekend...

The Hold Steady - Constructive Summer

The Delta Spirit - People Turn Around

Black Sabbath - Iron Man

Here Comes the Flood

Lately, I’ve treated this space with the sort of neglect normally reserved for my children. But with forthcoming releases from The Hold Steady, Sloan, Alejandro Escovedo and Ron Sexsmith (among others) likely to dominate my summer listening, I thought it best to share thoughts on the music that has been crushing me over the past couple of months.

Santogold, Santogold. A wild and wicked collage of new wave, soul and dance music with rhythms that sit in the pocket and stay there. The comparisons with M.I.A. are inevitable and on the money, but the Brooklyn-via-Philly artist is less audacious, more accessible. My clubhouse leader for album of the year. Recommended if you like: M.I.A., Massive Attack, Res.



Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, Dig, Lazarus, Dig!!! Nick Cave is on fire, in the midst of a historic run that began with the cinematic sweep of 2004’s Abattoir Blues/The Lyre of Orpheus double disc and continuing with the sensational sleaze rock of last year’s Grinderman. Now comes Lazarus, another hyper-literate exploration of religion, sex and soul, featuring one of the hottest bands on the planet. This, pardon my French, is the shit. Recommended if you like: Tom Waits, Elvis Costello, The Hold Steady.



The Ting Tings, We Started Nothing. British minimalist dance rock duo make the party album of the summer, all flash and sass in 4/4 time. Irresistible. Recommended if you like: Blondie, Lily Allen, the first B-52’s record.



The Futureheads, This Is Not the World. British retro-wavers party like it’s 1979 on their third full-length effort, which doesn’t quite equal (but doesn’t pale next to) their near-classic debut. Jagged and skittish but wickedly propulsive. Play it in your car with the windows down and the volume up. Recommended if you like: Arctic Monkeys, 1990s, Gang of Four.



Elbow, The Seldom Seen Kid. Another Brit collective (a theme seems to be emerging), but one not rushing to the chorus. A guitar band that values space over speed, warmth over noise, honey over sugar. Recommended if you like: Early Radiohead, late Blur, low-key Pink Floyd.



The Republic Tigers, Keep Color. Kansas City boys make good with lush, densely-layered, melancholy guitar pop drenched in harmonies. Evocative and elusive, pristine but not prissy. A stellar debut. Recommended if you like: The Shins, Travis, Death Cab for Cutie.



Various artists, Nigeria Special: Modern Highlife, Afro-Sounds & Nigerian Blues. Some of the best music to be released in the States this year was recorded more than three decades ago in Nigeria. A sprawling two-disc set that spotlights little-known acts and spans a vast musical terrain, it features the laid-back lyricism of juju, the hard pulse of Afrobeat, and many styles in between, including the influence of Latin music that comes from living on Africa's west coast. Remarkable, shimmering stuff. Recommended if you like: King Sunny Ade, Fela Kuti, Thomas Mapfumo.



Fleet Foxes, Fleet Foxes. This is a new acquisition that I’m slowly wrapping my head around, but it definitely has gravity, the kind of disc I expect to suck me in and reveal itself over time. The whole thing has a warm, analog feel, as if made in another time for our time. Recommended if you like: My Morning Jacket, M. Ward, Band of Horses.

Crush... Thy Name is Zooey

A friend of mine sent me this picture today and I needed an excuse to post it. Here are three tracks (the whole show!) from their charming, if somewhat shaky, daytime performance at SXSW on 3/14/08 - broadcast live on The Current. Why only three songs? They had some sound boinks and the SXSW machine doesn't coddle tuning-up artists. Plus, are you gonna tell Billy Bragg he's gotta wait?

She & Him - This Is Not a Test (live @ SXSW)

She & Him - Black Hole (live @ SXSW)

She & Him - Change Is Hard (live @ SXSW)

Bonus Crush Cut

The Clash - 1-2 Crush on You

Teenage Kicks Playlist # 1 (for Mezz and Mannix)

I have a feeling my summer will be dominated by Stay Positive, the staggeringly good new disc by The Hold Steady that sees the official light of day on July 15. The lead single, "sequestered in Memphis" hit their myspace page a couple of weeks ago and it may even convert you non-believers (I'm looking right atcha and you know who you are).

But there's more to life (and rock and roll) than just The Hold Steady ("Hey jackass, you wouldn't know it by this blog"), and we are here to help spread the word. My only criteria is a great hook or melody and generally a manageable song length. My partner Michael is much more open minded.

So please, feel free to check these out, support the artists if you find anything you like, and drop me a line if you hear any crush-worthy pop songs.

The Hold Steady - Sequestered in Memphis - "In barlight, she looked all right/ In daylight, she looked desperate"... is there a better live band right now? (I will come to your house and give you a purple nurple if you say Radiohead). The song of the summer.

The Explorers Club - Do You Love Me? - Beach Boys inspired kids from Charleston, SC deliver a 1966/2008 mashup.

Fleet Foxes - Tiger Mountain Peasant Song - Think Jim James fronting the Mamas and Papas, but without The Mamas.

Los Campesinos! - You! Me! Dancing! - Breathtaking blur of spasmodic new wave zazz - deserving of each and every one of those exclamtion points!!!! (Note to J. Johnny Mezz - song kicks in at 1:42... stay with it)

You Me And Iowa - Dress The Stage - LA power poppers do the Death Cab/Shins/Big Star great 3 1/2 minute pop song thing... I can't get this one out of my head.

Mates of State - Get Better - Husband/wife electro-pop get high gloss sheen with fantastic results. (This has Mannix written all over it).

Amy Lennard - I Wish It Were Mine - Lyrically almost too naked (she wants her girlfriend's life), the evocative performance stays with you... a budding americana sweetheart? I'd like to hear more.

Helio Sequence - No Regrets - Indie pop duo with a blues gospel stomper that sounds like a lost nugget from Harry Smith's collection. Sounds like nothing else on their new record, but I love it. (Bonus points for clocking in under 2:00).

Can't make this stuff up

Last week, a truck from a major shipping company parked in front of my house, and the driver got out to deliver a package. As he handed it to me, I noticed that it was addressed to the previous homeowner, who moved far away seven years ago. I explained, and the driver took the package back and was on his way.

Today, a postcard arrived. It was sent by the shipping company and addressed to the previous homeowner. It reads:

Dear Customer:

On 23 May 2008, we received a package(s) for you from: Shipper name [redacted by Teenage Kicks]

We are unable to complete delivery because: RECEIVER MOVED, NOT DELIVERED

Please pick up your package(s) at the above address (photo id is required) or call us at [phone number redacted].

Springing Leaks

The Hold Steady’s much-anticipated fourth album, Stay Positive, which is set for a July 15 release, leaked to the internet last week, sparking a lively and sometimes angry debate on this message board, and a more civil and philosophical discussion between Trip, Mary Z and me.

During our conversation, I recounted a talk I had over the weekend with a kid who works behind the meat counter at my local grocer. I don’t really know him at all, but I do know that he’s a huge fan of music in general and Animal Collective in particular. As he handed me a couple of steaks on Saturday, I casually asked if he had picked up the band’s new EP, which was released a couple of weeks ago. “I got it when it leaked,” he said. I replied, half joking, “but you paid full price when it was released, right?” “Absolutely,” he said, fully earnest. He confided that this is his music buying routine. “For me,” he said, “the leak date is the release date.” If ever I needed evidence that we’re living in a whole different time, that was it.

After I told the story, Trip responded with the most astoundingly astute observation I’ve heard on the new wave of music distribution. “The genius of Radiohead was not their new distribution model, or the pay what you want schtick, it was that they got folks to pony up for the leak. That was genius.”

That was genius. And it had never occurred to me.

In recent years, the record industry’s prevailing strategy has been to deny reality. Radiohead, on the other hand, not only accepted reality, they exploited it. The music is going to leak no matter what you do, so instead of letting it sit on a shelf while the artwork gets printed and the discs get pressed, just put it online the moment it is finished, and give people the option of putting money in your pocket. And then, after the initial hysteria has worn off, release it again, in hard form, maybe even with bonus tracks not available the first time around.

Shouldn’t this be the model we all move toward? Am I obsessive enough to toss two or three bucks at The Hold Steady for the right to listen to the new album for the next two months while I wait to get my hands on a physical copy? You bet I am, as are 99.9% of the folks in that message board thread.

I left the meat counter with another thought. It’s just so easy now. A kid can amass a huge collection by investing a little time and hardly any money. My natural inclination is to want to rip the ethics of a generation of kids who go on line and take what they want without paying a penny to the people who created it. But then I stop and consider that they don’t remember, and can't begin to understand, the music biz’s old culture of commodification. Music is in the air. You hear it on the radio, you hear it at the supermarket, you hear it coming out of cars on the street, you hear it at your friends’ houses, and you hear it on the internet. They don’t understand why they should be held accountable for listening to what’s out there, and it’s hard not to see their point.

Part of me thinks that they’re missing something, but that’s probably just romantic revisionism. I remember when acquiring music was a quest. At a minimum, it involved a trip to the record store. For harder to find stuff, it required several trips. For out-of-print discs, it required sifting through cut-out bins or sending away to a mail-order shop. I spent years of my life and a small fortune constructing a collection that represents to me far more than randomly grabbed bytes of information. I still remember the moment, many years ago, when I came across a copy of Let’s Active’s then out-of-print Big Plans For Everybody. My heart fluttered. I had been looking everywhere for it, and finally I held it in my hands. Luckily for me, the kid behind the counter didn’t know that I would have paid ten times the clearance price to own it.

In the famed “Yada Yada” episode of Seinfeld, Jerry’s dentist Tim Whatley converts from Catholicism to Judaism, and immediately begins telling Jewish jokes while continuing to tell ones lampooning his former faith. Incensed, Jerry visits Whatley’s priest, and complains. “I have a suspicion that he's converted to Judaism just for the jokes,” he says. “And this offends you as a Jewish person?” the priest asks. “No,” says Seinfeld, “it offends me as a comedian.”

Maybe the new age of illegal downloading doesn’t offend me as a law-abiding citizen. Maybe it offends me as a record collector.

Anti-War, Pro Soldier

Memorial Day 2008 is almost over for most of us, but for many it's just beginning. I wanted to write something that could convey my support for the troops while making it clear we need to end this war as soon as possible. And then I discovered my brother had already done a much better job of doing just that than I could ever hope to, so please read THIS.

I'll just leave you with some anti-war songs of recent vintage. And if you only listen to one, make it "Day After Tomorrow" by Linda Thompson, a breathtaking version of Tom Waits and Katheleen Brennan's stunner from 2004's Real Gone.

Godspeed Jimmy... and bring 'em home.

Linda Thompson - Day After Tomorrow

Ike Reilly Assassination - Broken Parakeet Blues

Jason Isbell - Dress Blues

Josh Ritter - Girl in The War

A.A. Bondy - American Hearts

Lucero - Joining The Army

Rock me out to the ballgame

Scott McCaughey. Steve Wynn. Peter Buck. Linda Pitmon. Sounds like an indie rock supergroup, and it is, of sorts. Meet The Baseball Project, a band assembled to record rocking original tunes by Wynn and McCaughey, all devoted to the national pastime and its great and colorful characters, like Satchel Paige, Ted Williams, Curt Flood and Fernando Valenzuela. The album, Volume 1: Frozen Ropes and Dying Quails, will be out on July 8. You can listen for free here. Make sure to check out "The Death of Big Ed Delahanty," the greatest garage rock song ever dedicated to a 19th Century major league power hitter.

Single Going Steady

They’re back and they’re sequestered.

The Hold Steady is set to release its fourth album, Stay Positive, on July 15. Can it live up to the impossibly high standards of the band’s first three discs? If the newly released single “Sequestered in Memphis” is any indication, the answer is an emphatic “yes.” Hear it here. Buy it at iTunes.

Sometimes I talk to Tad Kubler, the band’s lead guitar player. Not in real life; that would be weird. Instead, I carry on these conversations in my head, little fake interviews. And one of my questions always goes like this: “Koob, tell me straight, sometimes when you’re in the studio with Craig, do you just bust out laughing your ass off at how ridiculously awesome that dude can be?” According to this blog post from John Agnello, who produced the new album (and the last one), that’s exactly what happens:

Craig had been messing around with lyrics at rehearsal, adding certain ones, dropping some, changing vocal inflections and entrances. We all knew that basis of the song, but it wasn’t until Craig actually started the lead vocal for the song, that I got to hear the entire story. On his second take of the song, after I had checked the vocal sound, me and Tad, who had stopped in to be on call, were laughing our asses off about how good it was! Whenever I hear the song, I can see Craig singing it!

The Hold Steady: Comedy, tragedy and debauchery, coming to a city near you.

Heavy Metal

Ever since I found myself blessed with children, trips to the cinema have been rare. Being a refined intellectual, I suppose I should try to see the finest in art house fare during those odd evenings out. Screw that. If I make it to the movies just once or twice a year, I want to see some shit get blown up.

So I saw Iron Man over the weekend. And I hereby declare that it’s the greatest comic book movie ever made. By a mile.

Many (if not most) superhero stories suffer in translation to the big screen. When I was a kid, the X-Men was – far and away – my favorite comic book series. But the movies, while entertaining in their own slight way, try to cram too many ideas into too little time, and their premises (the guy was born with laser beams shooting out of his eyes? Really?) seem more plausible on pulp than celluloid.

Iron Man, on the other hand, was a minor player in my childhood (the box in the basement suggests that I owned only three issues – numbers 87, 88 and 161), but he’s perfect for film. A genius weapons manufacturer designs a sophisticated battle suit? That could happen.

The set-up, though, is just half of it. Director Jon Favreau engages in some expert, nuanced storytelling. And this film is perfectly cast. Gwyneth Paltrow, Jeff Bridges and Terrence Howard are terrific, but Robert Downey comes on like a force of nature in the title role. The film is fast, funny and phenomenally entertaining.

But you probably already know this. I just wanted to gush.

She & Him for You

Hopefully by now you've all bought the disc/legally downloaded/stolen Volume One, the debut by She and Him, featuring wide-eyed indie ingenue Zooey Deschanel (you know her from Elf) and hipster guitarist and man-about-town M Ward. It's a wonderful throwback to 3 minute, slick girl group pop with just enough fuzziness to keep it rooted in 2008. Deschanel's voice has an earthy, wobbly charm as she channels Jenny Lewis channeling Laura Nyro.

Here's one cut from Volume One, four live tracks from a KCRW session earlier this year (including "Magic Trick", an M Ward cut from Post-War), a perfectly sweet live take of "Bring It On Home to Me" and a cover of Richard Thompson's "When I Get to The Border" recorded for a soundtrack for The Go Getter.

Why Do You Let Me Stay Here (from Volume One)

Sentimental Heart (KCRW)

You Really Got A Hold On Me (KCRW)

Change is Hard (KCRW)

Magic Trick (KCRW)

Bring It On Home to Me (Acoustic)

When I Get to The Border (from the film The Go Getter)