Archive for August, 2010

13 Monsters

13 monsters – Lightning Bolt

I watched The Power of Salad and Milkshakes last night, and:

  • It’s the perfect band movie, with just live footage, on the road goofings around, a near eschewing interviews with the band, hangers on, or authoritative music scene voices and all those other usual music documentary cliches
  • Lightning Bolt are a really good band
  • I wish i went to see them the time they were here (even though i probably couldn’t have stood the crowd)
  • Brian Chippendale is an amazing drummer and makes me want to smash at my kit in a way few others do
  • I wish i were Brian Chippendale
  • I wish i were Brian Chippendale in Lightning Bolt
  • The two person unit seems such an ideal setup for a band, especially a touring band
  • And i have this song in my head.

    local hero

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I don’t believe in the Sun – The Magnetic Fields

SOMEONE who loves the Sun and believes in it very much (or at least is not one to ever deny it) sang this to me when i woke up this morning, supplanting any other possible song that could have been here. Sabotage. Cru-el-ty. This song is really long.

the wrestler

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Clan In Da Front

Clan in da front – Wu-Tang Clan

There are some albums linked so much to a moment in one’s past that by listening to it memory of that moment can’t not be stirred up, severely. It’s not a great battle story, it’s actually quite shameful, but 36 Chambers reminds me of Doom II, and very much Doom II. Not the original Doom, nor any other game. Sitting at the computer in our kitchen, fan heater at my feet, lights all out, Doom II, Wu-Tang Clan. No posturing, no standing on a corner, no riding in a car – no, a nerd in front of a computer.

The amount of time in my life i’ve wasted on games… The amount of time in my life i still waste on games. And now i have this urge to play through it again. If only i were twelve again, with that free time, without this corrective nudge of adulthood. I know that’s not a healthy thing to want. Wu-Tang.


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Lovers from the Moon – The Magnetic Fields

Recently, through no legal means, i stumbled upon the two, near identical, demo tapes of the Zinnias, Claudia and Stephin’s band before the Magnetic Fields. It’s naturally fantastic, but the best thing about it is the fragments of what would become Magnetic Fields songs found retrospectively in some Zinnias songs. Most notably there is a prototypal version of Kings, but also in the song Fabergé, in its verse, is found identical the verse of Lover’s From The Moon. Now, which is the more dreamy: being lovers from the Moon, or being made by Fabergé himself? This guy can write lyrics.

feast of flesh

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Chesterfield King

Chesterfield king – Jawbreaker

This song kind of suffers from the “Single Effect” – that banner song of everyone’s preference, linked word-associatively with the band’s name, representing their entire output, standing out singularly (single-y) on the album filing the songs before and after it as nothing but the songs before and after it. In the age of compact discs it would be skipped to; in this age of mp3 it is downloaded in confinement to the rest of the album and its place on it.The kind of song so overplayed and overesteemed you never want to hear it or reverence for it again, which makes no sense because no one has ever played this song to me but me.

It’s still that kind of song to me. It has a place, a pedestal. It is THE Jawbreaker song. Everyone’s favourite. Bob Nanna’s favourite. Yet from the first time i heard it, with such reputation and exaltation behind it, it fell short with me. Bivouac is my favourite Jawbreaker album but this is my least favourite song on it. What is wrong with me?

Maybe i owe it to myself to read the lyrics more. I did this once and it made complete sense why it is so loved. Chesterfield King is a precise, beautiful, poignant, invigorating summation of the most cherished quietly desperate moments of life. Those moments i guess that are beyond me. THEY’RE NOT! DAMNIT! Fuck you. I’m alive. It’s because i don’t smoke, isn’t it? I know it is. It’s pointed out to me frequently.

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French Navy – Camera Obscura

Ok, after watching a few live videos i’m convinced that they might be a little boring live. It is funny to imagine young, attractive, carefree, out for good times things committedly and discourteously doing their thing in the face of stage fright, ageing, struggling, morose, note for note perfection. To me, anyway. Become a jukebox. Of course i’ve never yet seen them.

It would be interesting to see how this song is live, without the fading out. It could basically go on forever, new ideas, new melodies, forever.


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Should’ve Said No

Should’ve said no – Taylor Swift

I wish i had gone to see her. I do. Just after the concert, as people are prone to do, a group of girls in this town wore their official Taylor Swift Australian Tour 2010 t-shirts everywhere, and for some reason that made me feel the pangs of not going more than anything. Sure, those shirts were just above wrestling shirts in their hideousness and being unfit to wear anywhere but to bed, but, in my face, at work when i’m most prone to desires of escape and dream fulfillment, those shirts symbolised every wasted opportunity, social censure and stifled dream i lay on myself daily. She’ll be back.

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Voulez-vous – ABBA

DISCO! It’s funny writing these things at night when i don’t have the time to write them in the morning. A thousand other songs pass through my mind over the day – fleetingly, maddeningly, vitally. The original, the one i post, the one i start the day with, is now buried under this whole day’s assiduousness (ha!) or boredom. That song may only last until i have a shower, yet it, being posted here, is meant to stand for the entire day. And until now, when i have to write about it. Oh well. It’s the method i’m sticking with. Bother me in the real world if you want to know at any point during the day which song fills my head. I will bore you at lengths about it.

They live by night

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Over And Over

Over and over – Sludgeworth

Is the “one. two. one two three four!” and those little pauses that happen before the chords the second time it progresses around just an unavoidable, reflexive convention every pop punk band must incorporate into a certain percentage of their songs, or a calculated affectation to humour us. They do not need to be there, they sound forced and overdone, and you’d think Dan Shaefer would be above such mediocrity. But boy, when they come around, are they fist-pumpingly exciting. Yeah!

happy go lucky

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The third last song on the tape – Independent Thought Alarm


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