Blusic

The talk of the town.

Oh music, my music. I basically love your friggin' guts. Nuts and guts. Gutters, too. Music is best that can be listened to in gutters, or by gutters, or behind shutters, or in closets.

I used to have this really great closet in Michigan. I kept all kinds of stuff in it. Baseball cards. Comic books. Hats. Old G.I. Joes. Free pens and pencils. Milk crates. Lots of other stuff, too.

But not music. That went on the dresser. All of it on the dresser. I don't have a dresser anymore. I lost that dresser. I lost my computer, too, and all 20,000 songs along with it. Except I have the computer in a box in my apartment. I can't say the same for the dresser. But at least with the computer-in-a-box, I can set things to rest on it. My dresser is firewood now. Or maybe worse. Maybe it's still sitting in my old room in Wisconsin, empty and sad and lonely and confused why it didn't move with me or David or my parents. I'm sorry dresser. I'm sorry computer. If it makes you feel any better, you have not been replaced.

What was I talking about? Oh, yes. Music. Andy tagged me. Music-tagged me. Web-tagged me. Blog-bagged me. On this fake computer (not the Potter boy, mind you, but a PC) I use at work, there are some 2381 songs from which to choose from. Here are the rules:

1. scan through your itunes or cd library. refamiliarize yourself with the nooks and crannies of your musical options.
2. identify five categories — genres, if you will — of music. these should be as obscure and finely-articulated as you’d like. feel free to use modifiers liberally.
3. nominate — select, really — a “perfect song” for each category. include a link for each song to something (the amazon page for the CD, or the artist’s website, or whatever).
4. ideally, some of the songs will be nominally obscure, or, at least, not completely mainstream and overplayed. no need to tell us all about songs we all know!

So here are five, five songs I like, five songs I lurve. Five songs for campfires and fireflies and flying with wings as eagles. Take that Chris Tomlin! I would kill you at writing worship songs! I know some Coldplay! I know some U2! I owned the first Delirious LP before any of the others! I knew Hungry back when it was a Vineyard secret! I have not only built a treehouse, but the Holy Ghost parties there with John Wimber all the time!

Note: Like Andy, I will use my terribly-tagged iTunes genres. Which is exactly how I like my genre tags in the first place.

1. Taken from Alt.Pop, Long Lost Brother from Over the Rhine's Ohio. (How else do you categorize Karen and Linford?) This song literally got me through my Montana year like hell on hind's feet. Thought you'd be further along by now? Believe brother, down to the letter. OtR stripped down to their post-Good-Dog-Bad-Dog-era basics, all piano and slide guitar glory. Glory! Someone get me a puddin' pop!

2. Taken from Folk, We All Know from Devendra Banhart's Nino Rojo. Smiles to faces, faces to arses, arses to animals, dancing so. Like I said, this is why DB brings smiles to my faces, and makes my clavicles shakeses. He is like smiling. He is smiling. Issa, Queen of the snake people couldn't have said it better. Play that ticker-tape-guitar! It's a parade at the end of the world! It's the earth's end and time is like nothing! It's only track 3! Error! Error! Cannot compute!

3. Taken from Hip-Hop, The Only One from Ghetto Pop Life by Danger Mouse & Jemini. Boom-di-yada! Up in the facility! The faculty can't take it! My faculties can't task it! Multitask? Like a miracle! Break this down. Take this down. Jemini and his friend D-A-N-G-E-R-M-O-U-S-E! Check yourself before you wreck yourself. Wreck yourself before you let yourself never hear this towering tune. Leave this page right now. Install Soulseek. Download this song. Checkmate.

4. Taken from Indie, Bros by Panda Bear from Person Pitch. Like OtR, I don't know what to call this. Better than blood pumping through my veins seemed a bit much. So many repetitions! So many sweet harmonies! So many sallow sounds! Sounds Familiar? Like family? Biking across Europe? Hiking across Sudan? Su-don't! Listen to this instead! Bristle with thistle! Shamrock with Panda Bamrock! Again and again and again and again. Do not forget. Again and again and again and again. Rinse. Repeat. Again and again and again and again. Twice daily, after flossing, and before bed. Or always. The eternal flame of the Seven Wood Club shines for really long periods of time!

5. Taken from Young God (because I believe it really is a genre unto itself) Dylan, Pt. 2 by Akron/Family & The Angels of Light, from their self-titled sort-of split cd. Lots of freaky guitar! Lot of creaky vocals! Lots of ru-ru-rillie-a-ru! I found what I'm looking for boys! This freaking song! This reeking song! Blonde on blonde on blonde on blonde! Bound for Singapore! Round the ring once more! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! I hear Jesus and the Angels calling me home! Pedro just swore! Now that's more like it!

End.


p.s. I tag Jake and Paco. Jake because he downloaded alot of new music and needs to share his opinions. And Paco because he never writes full blogs on the Haven.

Dr. Evil Now Corporate CEO of Viacom, Daily Show Fights Back

And now for some funniness. I caught a web clip of comedian Demetri Martin on the Daily Show the other day, in which he attempts to explain the Viacom/Google row over the proliferation of Viacom's media content on Google-owned YouTube. In short, YouTube has a policy of removing copy-written material when asked. However, for Viacom, that's not enough. They want Google to head off Viacom's material before it's even posted. And now Viacom is suing Google for a billion dollars for failure to do that. That's right, one billion dollars.

Of course, this will probably never make it to court. Viacom knows that. But by upping the ante so quickly, they force Google into a defensive position should an out-of-court legal settlement take place. No doubt YouTube profits from the web traffic brought to its site due to Viacom-owned shows on Comedy Central, MTV and Nickelodeon. But Viacom profits, too, as it brings increased consumer awareness for its brands and products. However, Viacom wants a slice of the advertising pie that Google brings in via YouTube. Ergo, sue their pants off.

Now back to the funny. This last week on the Daily Show, Demetri Martin attempted to explain the Viacom/Google suit for Viacom's Daily Show customers. The video is below and it's pretty funny. At one point, Martin even addresses those viewers who are watching him on YouTube. What's even funnier, though, is that I first caught this video via TV Squad courtesy of YouTube. A day later, the video has been removed. The vid below is courtesy of Comedy Central, which is the way Viacom wants it.

Well, in addition to that one billion dollars.

On War

Tomorrow marks the 4th anniversary of the U.S. led invasion of Iraq. Four years and two days ago, I was in Haiti of all places, taking part in service project over spring break. I sat huddled around a radio in Phil and Lonnie Murphy's house, with a dozen other students, listening to President Bush address the nation (and in our case, the world). In that address he made it clear, in no uncertain terms, that the United States was ready to invade Iraq in 48 hours unless Saddam Hussein left the country. He didn't. And three days later, while I was tagging along on a medical clinic somewhere in the Plaine de l'Artibonite east of Port-au-Prince, my nation attacked another nation. I missed the whole thing, until the very next day when we stumbled into the Hotel Montana (not kidding, it really exists) and caught the first images via CNN. We were at war.

It was surreal. I remember Phil being very concerned that Muslims worldwide would view the invasion as a holy war -- Christianity against Islam. I remember our group being divided, between our evangelical love of George W. Bush and our reticence to see America at war. Listening to the president on a transistor radio hundreds of miles from home, it almost felt like we were watching the whole thing from the outside. Viewing those first pictures of war four days later didn't do much to bridge the divide. While we were hanging out with orphans and missionary kids and AIDS patients, our country was blowing people up half a world away. On the flight back, we had to adjust to the fact that we were returning to a campus and a nation where we'd be completely out of the loop. We had to adjust to the fact that when we left, Iraq was just another pesky player in the Axis of Evil, but when we returned, we were bombing the shit out of 'em, throttles wide open, all the way to Baghdad.

I remember two conversations in particular between coming home and Bush's speech from the USS Abraham Lincoln in which he declared an "end of major combat." One with a friend of mine who was initially opposed to the invasion, but who couldn't help cheering along with the Iraqis as the tore down big fucking statues of Saddam Hussein. In those moments, he could see the good we were doing, even though he disagreed with the means whereby which we were doing it. And another conversation in the RichLynn library, with another friend who asked me what I thought of it all. And I, choosing my words oh-so-carefully, trying to express how even though I thought our eagerness to invade before all other avenues were exhausted was hubris in the first degree, I couldn't help feeling that the Iraqi people were better off with Saddam out of the way, ready to start a new life and a new country with freedoms they had only dreamed of.

Four years later I'm driving to Wendy's Old Fashioned Hamburgers in Rutland, Vermont when I see a crowd of 30 or 40 people lined up along the highway, protesting that very same war. And it's so confusing. And maddening. Not to mention disheartening. And infuriating. At this point, I don't think most people even understand what the hell is going on in Iraq. The first war we fought was over by the end of 2003. Then the Insurgency -- but since the 2005 elections, even that has become overshadowed by something more insidious. No longer do terrorists, foreign or domestic, account for the majority of violence in Iraq. A recent Pentagon report puts most of the bloodshed firmly in the hands of sectarian violence, that is to say, acts of violence between the Shia majority and the Sunni minority who held power under Saddam. And all that stands between these two groups and all out civil war, the scale of which could lead to genocide not seen since Rwanda, is the U.S. military.

The fact of the matter is, we're no longer fighting for democracy or liberty or oil or freedom from the terrorists. We're holding back a torrent of violence that certain Sunnis and certain Shiites wish to unleash upon each other, regardless of our presence or non-presence. That's not to say that all Iraqis are ready for civil war. Many just want to provide for their families and live in peace. But I'm sure there were plenty of people who felt like that in Virginia and Illinois and Kansas come 1861.

However, once that kind of war starts, it's impossible to avoid picking sides.

So that's that. I have no great love for our current president or his administration. I have no respect for men who lead our nation to war based on fudged data, half-truths and outright lies. But this so-called "surge" is really our last hope. If it doesn't work, expect this country (Democrat and Republican) to resign itself to its fate, and leave the Iraqis to their own devices. But do not, under any circumstances, expect peace to follow. Expect the violence to continue. Expect the death-toll to rise. And expect us to watch in shame and horror, followed by a number of years of second-guessing and misplaced guilt.

What kind of peace is that?

This war was no Vietnam. But expect the aftermath, should we withdraw now, to be just as devastating.

I don't like this war. I don't like how we were mislead in March of 2003. I don't like how it's been handled ever since. I don't like having my high school friends fight it while I hang out with elementary kids in Vermont. I don't like how a generation of our best and brightest are sacrificing their lives for aims that are about as clear as mud. But we're the bull. And we leveled the china shop. And if don't pick up the pieces, who the hell will?

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad Hates Frank Miller

Iran condemns Hollywood war epic (BBC)

So Iran is upset over the portrayal of Persians in Frank Miller' s 300, claiming that after the Iranian revolution in 1979, "Hollywood and cultural authorities in the US initiated studies to figure out how to attack Iranian culture."

If Ahmadinejad knew who Miller was at all, he'd understand that the purpose of this film isn't to "plunder" and "insult" Iran, but to show lots of well-oiled bodies killing and being killed in as graphic and stylish a way as possible. With some T&A thrown in for good measure. This is a film for 14-year-old boys of all ages. Plain and simple.

Cap

If NPR and the New York Times are reporting it, it's gotta be news.

Captain America is dead. Of course, we cynics know that comic book death is a fleeting death, but still, for the time being, Steve Rogers is one very dead super hero. The NY Times gives us a genuine obituary, while Morning Edition's report brings interviews with Ed Brubaker (the current writer of Captain America), Joe Simon (the co-creator of the character), and Stan Lee, who revitalized the character in the 1960s. Naturally, there's buzz just about everywhere else, but those two reports cut to the heart of the Steve Rogers/Captain America mythos, and do it pretty classy, too.

Joe Simon's quote, that we need Cap now more than ever, sort of sums up my feelings on the matter. And I think Marvel Comics realizes that, too. So it gives you hope, that when yet another super hero comes back from the dead, maybe this time, it'll actually mean something.

Starbucks Hates Africans!

Okay, that's not really true. I just like typing scandalous headlines. But it is true that Starbucks make millions, perhaps billions, exploiting coffee growers across our fair blue-green planet, and must be stopped at all costs, up to, and including, dumping coffee from the cup into the trash because even when you ask for "room for cream" they still give you way too much coffee and not enough room for cream. Oh yeah, I'm a damn-hell-ass rebel.

But seriously, if we can, Starbucks is making truckloads of money off of Ethiopian beans, using the nation of Ethiopia as a selling point, and Ethiopia, naturally, wants a piece of the action. Starbucks would probably acquiesce, were Ethiopia not asking for such a huge chunk of said action. Country vs. Company! Oh yeah!

To be fair, Starbucks is a huge buyer of Fair Trade coffee, and that's dandy. But Fair Trade growers are still at the mercy of the buyer. They don't demand a price. They get the "fair" value only if they can find someone nice enough to buy it. Were Ethiopian farmers (or more accurately, the nation) allowed to trademark coffee exports that specifically come from their nation, they could set the price for buyers to use their trademarked beans.

Of course, Starbucks' lawyers don't see it that way. And that's what this'll come down to. The lawyers of the Starbucktopia vs. Ethiopia, which placed 170th out of 177 countries in a recent UN ranking of human development. That doesn't necessarily mean Ethiopians can't afford a good lawyer for themselves, it just means that their farmers need a leg up in the market. Fair Trade? That's nice. But owning the name of the coffee you sweat and toil over? That's fair.

p.s. FYI, those are coffee cherries above, what the coffee bean looks like before being dried and roasted. You learn something new every day! Go tell your friends! Start a revolution!

I knew there was a reason I let my subscription to Spin Magazine run out!

And it wasn't just the departure of Chuck Klosterman.

Sometime last year Spin gussied herself up with a new format, one that looked more like a hipster version of the those supermarket celeb rags than an entertaining music mag. I only had an issue or two left, and the new format change made it much easier to just let my 5 year subscription expire. It was the first time I stopped reading a magazine because I got too old for it since Jr. High, when my parents stopped getting Focus on the Family's Breakaway for me every year for Christmas. In regards to Spin, I was only 26, yet I suddenly realized this magazine wasn't geared towards me any longer.*

Enter an article I found on MusicSnobbery.com today while looking for record reviews on the net. The format change was part of a larger target demographic shift** for the magazine spearheaded by their new editor, Andy Pemberton, formerly of Blender Magazine -- one of the few music magazines whose birth was used to herald the beginning of the end times. While Spin hadn't resorted to centerfold spreads of the Pussycat Dolls, it had dumbed down much of its content, choosing to spend more time reviewing hot party scenes and rock star sitings than actual music journalism. I have no idea if the format shift has helped the bottom line in recent months, but one can only hope that its sales volume has gone down the crapper -- and left Chuck Klosterman laughing at his good luck to get the hell out with his dignity intact.

...At least as much dignity as one could hope to have after having written for the Entertainment Weekly of music magazines.


*Contrast that to two years ago when I stopped subscribing to Paste Magazine after realizing I was too young for its format. There were some great interviews and it sure looked pretty, but I couldn't stand the lack of emphasis on anything outside of the Triple-A genre.

**And prior ownership change

Carson Daly Wants Conan's Job

I knew it was coming. Carson Daly has announced his candidacy for the 12:30 timeslot in 2009 when Conan moves to Burbank (Burbank!) to take over the Tonight Show. While an 11:30 Conan brings joy to my heart, a promotion for Daly makes me want to throw up for hours and hours and hours, then give my eyeballs papercuts while drinking a lawn fertilizer/buttermilk cocktail. This has disaster written all over it.

Please, NBC. Don't do this to America. If nothing else, consider you're old pal Andy Richter. Now wouldn't that be a latenite one-two punch in the face! Come on, feel the Conannoise!

Note To Ted Haggard: Sack Up, Already

First off, I have to get this out of the way. I love Ted Haggard. It wasn't always this way. But since the whole brouhaha in November, I have had serious feelings of love and affection for this man. He loves God. He struggles. He messes things up. What's not to love, exactly?

That being said, I am seriously disappointed with this man I love -- in Christian love, both the agape and philial varieties -- because of his supposed three week turnaround from confused sexual being to raging heterosexual. You heard me right: Ted Haggard says he's completely hetero after three weeks of counseling. Restoration, indeed! Hallelujah!

Except not. Another disclaimer: in this post I will not argue the point that counseling a body/mind from homosexuality to heterosexuality is/is not possible. Instead I'll defer to the Kinsey scale and chalk up Haggard's behavior to the distinct probability that he lies within the 80% of the population that is neither exclusively straight or exclusively gay. Using that logic, it's absurd to force the man to pick a side and draw up battle lines. Let Haggard be Haggard. And not either Will Truman or Magnum P.I. There's some middle ground here that we ought not to ignore.

The Haggard camp doesn't see it that way. And that's a sad fact. One of the pastors who oversaw Haggard "recovery" had this to say: "He is completely heterosexual. That is something he discovered. It was the acting-out situations where things took place. It wasn't a constant thing."

So according to Haggard's boys, his dalliance with Mike Jones was "acting-out." In other words, his gay-ness wasn't 24/7; it was a outlet he pursued to deal with certain problems. No word on what those problems were -- the drug habit is a good guess (though Haggard never admitted to using), and marital problems could be implied from the statement, too. But in the end it doesn't matter. Because it's not true.

Andrew Sullivan of the Atlantic Online points out the tragedy of it all -- that Haggard, in denying his bisexual tendencies, is only making himself sicker. Talk about hitting the nail on the head. This doesn't mean that Ted has to have sex with guys to fulfill himself as a human being. No. What it does mean is this: Haggard needs to admit to himself that he likes guys on occasion, and that it's part of him that won't ever go away. But because of his beliefs, he will deny that urge and focus his energies elsewhere. It's the same thing millions of Christians do every year during the season of Lent. It's the same thing priests (well, most of them) and nuns have done for centuries. It's the same thing a married man does when he sees a good-looking woman that isn't his wife. It's done every day. That doesn't make it easy. But it does make it possible.

By refusing to accept the truth, and claiming he's 100% all woman-lovin', Haggard only makes it harder on himself to move on and minister to others. Hopefully, he comes to his senses and realizes that no amount of calling an oak tree a fire hydrant makes it a fire hydrant. Yet no matter what, I'll keep on loving him. Because my love for Haggard is agape, and my affection is hesed. And it doesn't go away because he's a toolbag.

Lucky him.

Caught Up

Musings on sticking around for the main event

I was thinking some about the Rapture today; not the band but the eschatological event, and I was kind of hoping that if there is an actual Rapture, maybe I could skip it.

It's not that I don't want to meet Jesus in the clouds, that does sound fairly awesome, but moreso that it would be interesting to live in a world where there were no Christians or Christian bookstores or Christian bracelets or even Christian ocelots. Think of all the things you could do if you were the last Christian on earth:

1. You could have a Christian band, and you'd be the only Christian band on earth. You could cover every song by DC Talk and the Newsboys and Phillips, Craig and Dean and Zao and no would could tell you not to because they'd all be in heaven and you could tell them to shut the hell and they'd have to obey because they couldn't talk back.
2. You could be on all the talk shows and talking heads shows as the last living expert on Christianity. You could probably run for governor of Alabama or North Dakota on the Christian ticket and still stand a good chance of winning. You could run for president and most likely lose but still garner enough votes to find yourself in a cabinet position. Mostly, politics would be a hoot, at least for those first three-and-a-half years.
3. Then there's the Tribulation. Okay, that might suck. But, if I played my cards right, I might be able to land myself a spot on the Tribulation Force, and get to shoot rocket-propelled grenades at the Anti-Christ, who would be my good buddy from the old cabinet days. He's most likely a dick anyways, so the whole rocket thing might not be so bad.
4. Two words: Bible Smuggler. I could be the next Brother Andrew!
5. That's all I got. Except maybe I would push for Armageddon to happen on the moon, because that does sound pretty sweet. Moon Wars!
   

The End