Now Here's Something We Hope You'll Really Like

She Said, "Where You Been?" I Said, "No Place Special"

It has been a while. Probably won't be around too frequently, but one never knows. Here are a few artifacts in the meantime.





With John Osebold & Evan Mosher

VDiO

All Good Children Go to Heaven

If you are in or near London on Hallowe'en, permit me to urge you to attend this.



I am very excited to announce that I will be part of a band led by Robyn Hitchcock and which may or may not also include members of Blur (!!) and Scritti Politti (!!!) at the following shows at a tiny pub in West London:

Robyn Hitchcock and Friends
Performing both sides of The Beatles' Abbey Road
October 31 & November 1

Three Kings in Clerkenwell Close, London EC 1
Tickets are £25 and go on sale from October 1st.
Call 0207 253 0483, limit of 4 tickets per caller.
All proceeds from the show go to Medécins Sans Frontières.

No one's sure exactly what the line-up will be, but I will be there and so will Robyn. I will likely be the designated Paul for much of the evening, which is saying something. I hope you UK folks will be able to come and say 'ello.

What I Did Last Summer (and Spring and Fall and Winter)

Performance Highlights of 2008:

R.E.M. at Westerpark, Amsterdam. July 2
The first date on this European tour was a magnificent show already: 29 songs, including many of my all-time favorites, including “7 Chinese Brothers,” “Driver 8,” “These Days,” “The One I Love,” “Orange Crush,” “Pretty Persuasion,” “Ignoreland,” and way more. The band was on fire, confident, ambitious, inspired—even the 9 of 11 songs from Accelerate sounded vital and right at home among the classix. But the real highlight, for me anyway, came during “Don’t Go Back to Rockville,” which I was singing along with when I looked over from my spot in the wings (I was lucky to be spending a couple days as a band guest) to see Peter Buck and Scott McCaughey giving me the nod to come join them onstage. Chloe, standing with me, tells me to get out there, and so out I run, and share Scott’s mic—as I have so many times before with the Minus 5 and the Venus 3—to sing the chorus harmony on one of the 3 or 4 R.E.M. songs that has meant the most to me in my whole damn R.E.M.-loving life…WITH R.E.M. (M. Mills singing lead, M. Stipe way across the stage singing harmonies) AT an R.E.M. show in front of 10,000 ecstatic Dutch people. Not a thing I am likely to forget, ever. Oh, and then I met Radiohead backstage. They were mostly wee (Ed O’Brien was taller than me, however) and strangely beautiful, and looked the most like a band of any band I have ever seen up close. Anyway, YouTube is here to prove it really happened!
1:36 or so:

1:29-ish in this one:

Harvey Danger Anniversary Shows At Triple Door, Seattle. March 5-6.
To celebrate the 10th anniversary of our first album’s major label release, we performed all three of our albums, plus a huge complement of rarities, B-sides, and covers over the course of two nights at the nicest room in our home town. Playing the songs in album order made it a bit tricky to establish a proper show momentum (also, my back was seriously fucked, so I had to perform with a cane; I had surgery two months later), but there was an inordinate amount of love in the room to compensate. Playing songs we’d never done live before, along with many we hadn’t done in many years was a powerful emotional ride. It was surprising to learn what still played and what really didn’t. The best part was being in the room with the people (quite possibly every single person) who had a genuine attachment to the band’s whole body of work. Also my family, who had never really seen me play music except on TV, came to town for the shows, too. Which was nice.

More Information Than You Require Book Launch with John Hodgman, Jonathan Coulton, John Roderick at Town Hall, Seattle. November.
To share the stage with these three incredibly funny and talented gentlemen (each of whom represent a distinct stratum of the Nerd phylum) was a pleasure and an honor. It’s hard to say what the best part was, though doing “Only Living Boy in New York” with John R. again for the first time in five years, our Roderick and Nelsonfunkel vocal blend filling majestic Town Hall, was as stirring as ever. I’m also fiercely proud of the largely improvised bit in which Hodgman replaced Coulton with “feral mountain man” substitute Roderick and Coulton countered by introducing me as a surrogate “tweedy literary type.” Funny. It was a great night that could only be capped by fancy drinks and heavy food at 13 Coins. More video proof: me singing the Monkees’ “Porpoise Song.”

The Porpoise Song - 11/06/08 Seattle from Bacon Fried Rice on Vimeo.

Robbie Robertson Award Gala/Fund Raiser at EMP, Seattle. November.
In many ways, this was another in a long series of surreal, sub-showbiz evenings I have spent since I went semi-pro. But, I did get to do a very strong rendition of “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down” in the piano/vocal style in which it was written (accompanied by the great Jason Staczek) as well as the lesser-known (and lesser) “Last of the Blacksmiths” right in front of the man who wrote them, which was pretty great. I also got to participate in what can only be described as an all-star jam, including Robbie Robertson and billionaire collector Paul Allen, as well as a bunch of my talented friends, each one of whom was as bemused as I to be trading verses and solos on “The Weight,” “Up on Cripple Creek,” and “I Shall Be Released” like we were doing some d-grade remake of The Last Waltz. Surreal, but kind of amazing.

Jon Brion Show at Largo, Hollywood. July.
Speaking of all-star jams… As JB’s shows usually do, this one involved a lot of unannounced/unplanned guest performers doing a lot of impromptu stuff. This particular show included me (in town to play a show that wound up being cancelled), bass virtuoso Sebastian Steinberg (ex-Soul Coughing, whom I hadn’t played with in 10 years), Sean Watkins (Nickel Creek), David Garza (former Seattle mainstay), and, as the night wore on, piano wiz Benmont Tench (of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers fame). We did a bunch of covers, including about 15 requests in a row—based on the premise that we would muddle through at least a verse and a chorus of any song the late night crowd could think of. Nothing happened that I’d necessarily want to hear a bootleg of, but as for spontaneous musical happenings, it was one of the best, most fun (for musicians and audience) I’ve ever been a part of.

Harvey Danger (Piano/Vocal-style) at Largo, Hollywood. August 2.
Just a perfect show, performed on a wonky upright piano and a single mic in a dark, quiet, tiny-but-stately room, in front of an audience small enough to make eye contact and have a conversation with, but big enough to be bolstered and enthralled by. Peak moment: flinging open the door to serenade La Cienega Blvd with “Maybe I’m Amazed,” then coming back in as Jon Brion, who had run upstairs to fetch a guitar, bounded back in the room in time to play the (killer) solo. Evidence that Largo is the best place in the world to do a show, and that small stakes often yield the very finest results. Some video, which is good enough that I’m posting it even though I look like complete shit in it. Alas…

I may be forgetting some, but I am not forgetting the nights on the cruise ship between Florida and Jamaica or the night in Aberdeen, because they were not, strictly speaking, that awesome. Though they did generate some excellent stories.

Radio Radio

From the Good Ol' Mailbag:

Sean,

Don had your back today on KIRO. The sad thing is I totally agree with you about it being more than time to open the military to Gays, but you hurt that message when you stuck your foot in your mouth and you need to do some serious soul searching, because I am not buying that there is “no part of you” that feels the troops are poor, uneducated victims of some trick. Some part of you said that with practiced ease this week. The only assumption I can draw from your Freudian slip was that you assume If THEY knew the truth you did, THEY would not be there. Any chance if you knew the truth THEY LIVE every day that slip would be impossible to make?

You’re in good company. Stephen King lost a lot of my respect earlier this year when he suggested the result of not finishing school would be going to Iraq.

Problem is both of you are working on assumptions and against facts.

FACT:
Through September 2004
99% of Army recruits and 98.5% of Navy Recruits had a HS diploma or GED level credentials vs. 80% of the general population
99.8% of the Marines and the Air Force had these credentials

That takes care of the uneducated part of your assumptions about the military.

FACT:
In 1999 18% of recruits came from the bottom 20% of incomes by neighborhood. That percent of has dropped steadily through figures available into September 2005, long after the WAR became unpopular.
On top of that the percentage of recruits in the upper 20% of income by neighborhood has gone steadily up from 18.6% in 1999 to 22.8% in 2004 and 2005. Economically the percentage of below average income recruits is down and the percentage of above average income recruits is up.

That takes care of the “poor” aspect of your assumption.

It’s simple… You don’t go choose to go stand in the dessert and be shot at for a low or average paying job, you do it out of a feeling of personal accountability for what you believe in. And I am sure that if you checked motivation no matter the income that he percent that are joining now out of duty or a desire to become something better personally is way up over “it’s a job” or “it pays for college.”

What you need to look for in your ACLU report, which I have not looked at yet, is what is documented by real statistics that show a pattern and what is documented by anecdotes that support what the ALCU wants to prove about the Military. There is not a system on the planet that is so perfect it can’t be shamed by its weakest members.

You’re a musician in Seattle, we all know that kind of comment over a beer makes you one of the cool kids at the table. The brave thing, if you REALLY believe what you said about respecting the troops and those in military service, would be to stop the conversation right there and say, “Excuse me, but those men and women, every single one of them, chose to risk their lives defending our right to be in Seattle and have voices like The Stranger, and we may not like this war, but you will not speak poorly of them in my presence again.”

And as unpopular as I know that would make you to have that kind of courage in this area and in your social circles, think about the courage it takes to drive an old lady 20 miles in the open dessert to VOTE in Iraq when the word is she and you might be targets of the thugs over there, or the courage it takes to be the lead truck on a road you know has IEDs, or to be the first one in the door of a room that might have armed opposition.

I have to say, kudos to you getting on the show today and being accountable for sticking your foot in your mouth. Being anti-war and even negative about the military is easy in Seattle. But you’re a writer for a paper that usually challenges easy assumptions. Spend some time figuring out how your foot got close enough to insert orally :) and maybe the result will be you choosing to go talk to some troops maybe even doing a USO trip to Iraq, come back and tell Seattle the Good and the Bad about Iraq and why many of these guys have re-enlisted and asked to go back to stand by their friends doing the hardest job on the planet.

If you do that you will be a better artist and writer.

My sources:
http://www.defenselink.mil/prhome/poprep2004/enlisted_accessions/education.html

http://www.heritage.org/Research/NationalSecurity/cda06-09.cfm They source their material too in this case I am using that material.

XXX XXXXXXX
Lynnwood, WA

Of course, I spent like two hours writing the archest, most piss-on-them-from-a-great-height response I could muster, then sent this:

Thank you for your passionate and informative letter.

Perhaps one day I'll post the real reply.

If, however, you're interested in hearing the "other" seattle curse my name (I know you're out there!), I recommend going all up in here.

Spring Sprung

From an e-mail address I didn't recognize: "List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring."

This isn't easy, given how little music I've been listening to lately, but why not try?

1. "Wichita Lineman," Glen Campbell.
I don't know how I managed to miss the incredible majesty of this song through all these years. The first time I ever heard it (I confess) was when R.E.M. covered it in a documentary around the release of Monster. Their version did not blow my mind, though it's good. Neither did song author Jimmy Webb's. But this one, by Glen Campbell, the definitive arrangement, is so powerfully melancholy, so epic (and still so camp) that I have been spending long hours of rehabilitation just walking around with it on repeat in my headphones. For like, hours.

2. "The Disappointed," XTC.
From Nonsuch, one of their lesser-loved latter day LPs, this is yet another of Andy Partridge's perfect songs, the kind that seem like someone must have written it 25 years ago. But no. The cleverness of the lyric and the construction form a typically effective sfumato to obscure the haunted emotions hidden inside. "I'm the king of broken hearts," indeed. And the leaping melody on the chorus. I can't wait till the world wakes up to Partridge. I basically believe that this song—like many of his best works—is exactly what pop music is for: a vehicle to both wallow in misery and elevate yourself up out of it.

3. "Better Off," Let's Go Sailing.
I don't know. I just love this song. I love the whole record, actually, but this is the masterpiece, I think. I only wish the radio sounded like this. It used to, kind of, didn't it? College radio, anyway? Maybe? Sorta? A tiny bit? No? Ok. Well, there's a beauty in the way Shana Levy stretches for the high note on the chorus that pleases me more than almost anything I can think of. And of course, the jaunty, jangly feeling throughout the verses conflicting with the resignation in the words. The theme has emerged, I daresay.

4. "Keeping the Weekend Free," Liquorice.
I've never understood why no one seems to remember the impeccable Liquorice record Listening Cap (though once when I played it KEXP, the drummer—now a powerful indie rock booking agent—e-mailed me to say thanks), or, for that matter, why you can't find a Tsunami CD, even used, in a record store east of the Mississippi. (Funny, though, how clearly I remember how people loved to "debate" the morality of an indie-ass album like this being released by a major label like 4AD—imagine that debate happening today.) Written by Franklin Bruno, sung by Jenny Toomey and Dan Littleton (of Ida), this is another quiet ode to romantic agony—but, crucially, one whose narrator is prostrating herself rather than lashing out—that feels like it's torn right out of my unconscious. The songs I like best are the ones I feel like were written exclusively for me.

5. "Suedehead," Morrissey.
I never really paid special attention to this song, just kind of took it for granted as one of those perfect early Morrissey singles, not as flamboyant at "Hairdresser on Fire," not as exciting as "Picadilly Palare," just right there in the middle of Viva Hate, right at the end of Bona Drag. Just more evidence of his greatness. But just lately, I've been closing in on just how strong this number really is, how many levels it operates on, from sorry to sickened to vindictive (and so many things in between). The swerving emotions of a person trying to get over someone else, but still yearning to address them—the attempt to squeeze reason from a stone heart. "Why do you come here when you know it makes things hard for me?" So enigmatic, but so direct. And "you had to sneak into my room just to read my diary/it was just to see, just to see all the things you knew I'd written about you." There's even a punchline. "It was a good lay." Always a comfort. PS The proto-alternative rock production, guitar solo intro, prominent snare, and strings—are part of the solution, not part of the problem. Is it time yet to admit that it's possible to remember the sound of the early '90s fondly?

6. "A Really Good Time," Roxy Music.
Another dispatch from the crosshairs of epic melancholy and camp. I love singing along with Bryan Ferry always, but especially on this song, a highlight from my favorite Roxy record. Partly because he's usually so inscrutable, but also because of the piano and strings attack, Ferry sounds so vulnerable here—no trouble imagining him imagining someone specific when he talks about the girl he used to know whose face is her fortune and who has a heart of gold. Nor is it possible to imagine him thinking of anyone else but himself when he sings "you never bothered about anyone else. You're well educated with no common sense. But love, that's one thing you really need to get by" or "all your troubles come from yourself. Nobody hurts you, they don't care." That's the kind of self-pity I can approve of. This song is the chink in his armor. And then there's "all the things you used to do, a trip to the movies, a drink or two: they don't satisfy you, they don't show you anything new." By then, he's talking to me, I'm pretty sure.

7. "Crying, Waiting, Hoping," Marshall Crenshaw.
Written and originally performed by Buddy Holly. The first version I heard was a clean-cut, George-sung live take by the Beatles on the radio show "The Beatles at the Beeb" in the mid-'80s. I think the Stones did one early on, too. This rendition, from the La Bamba soundtrack (on Slash Records, thank you very much), puts them all to shame. Maybe it's that Marshall C. was acting the part of Buddy, and not trying to do too much of his own thing, maybe it's the players, I don't know. i just think this is definitive reading of a song that distills the essence of the pop singer voice—"maybe someday soon things'll change and you'll be mine"—in a way that's still being employed all the time by almost everyone who writes songs. It's a total bummer, but you listen again and again. I do, anyway. And I've been listening to it on the cassette I bought at Music Plus in Thousand Oaks, CA the day after I saw the film in 1987. It's the only song I like on that tape, I admit.

General observations: The most recent song is about three years old, the oldest is nearly 40. I don't think that means anything important. I suppose the absence of more difficult music on this list could have something to do with the choppy waters I've been swimming in lately, but it could also just be the case that this is the form I love best. In any case, my relationship to music is changing a lot lately, but I still feel an attachment to the infinite when I hear these songs. I guess that's the best criterion I can think of for enjoying songs, or for letting them shape my spring.

Where My Head Is (at)

Literally (but also the other thing):

Not To Be Confused With

this:


or this:

Wake Up, it's 2008

So far, the dominant theme is as follows:

Y-O

I LOVE this song and video. It was one of the first non-RUN-DMC hiphop songs I ever heard in high school (late to the party as ever; thanks, Jonathan Scott) and recently bought the 12" single on eBay for $20 (and . A bargain at twice the price! Also, I can't decide how I feel about the fact that 85% of the hiphop I really, truly love was made 15 years ago or earlier. That's not true of rock, which has traveled through the ages for me. Rap is another story, f'real. I'm sure it's my damn fault.

(Courtesy of Idolator.)

Being Green

I know it's ridiculous to still be talking about this, but the Scritti Politti record from 2005 refuses to leave my brain or my iPod. I listen to the old stuff, too, but only a song here and a song there. White Bread Black Beer goes the distance and then sticks around to do line drills after practice (that was a basketball metaphor).

Anyway, the only reason it's a problem is that almost everyone I know thinks of them as school bus pop from 1985, period. I will continue to nurse my fetish for both primary and secondary SP materials. Just found (and printed) this endlessly readable 40-page Green Gartside interview conducted by Simon Reynolds for his amazing Rip It Up and Start Again book. Then this good-ass 1999 BBC documentary (featuring Jacques Derrida!!!) on Scritti's comeback rock w/rap LP Anomie and Bonhomie (also good-ass), from the excellent www.bibbly-o-tek.com. Green has a dubious extra wide goatee here, but his story is sound sound sound.

And then of course there's this ridiculous nonsense, which is Scritti-heavy, perhaps prohibitively, but I loves it. And clearly, in this department, I'm inspired by Green's self-pacing.

Dispatch

I'm going on tour with my friend and favorite Robyn Hitchcock. Dates are below. I hope you will come see. It's my first actually solo solo tour, and it is bound to be cold as hayl out there. Mention this blog and get a free fond caress.

Nov 2 2007 8:00P
Shank Hall Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Nov 3 2007 7:00P
High Noon Saloon Madison, Wisconsin

Nov 4 2007 8:00P
Cedar Cultural Center Minneapolis

Nov 5 2007 8:00P
The Maintenance shop Ames, Iowa

Nov 7 2007 9:00P
Blueberry Hill St. Louis, Missouri

Nov 8 2007 8:00P
Southgate House Newport, Kentucky

Nov 10 2007 9:00P
The Music Mill Indianapolis, Indiana

Nov 13 2007 8:00P
The Starlight Waterloo, Ontario

Nov 14 2007 8:00P
The Mod Toronto, Ontario

Nov 15 2007 8:00P
The Casbah Hamilton, Ontario

Nov 16 2007 8:00P
Zaphod Beeblebrox Ottawa, Ontario

Nov 17 2007 8:00P
The Cabaret Montreal, Quebec

Nov 28 2007 7:30P
The Triple Door Seattle, Washington
(Harvey Danger Acoustic opens)

Nov 29 2007 7:30P
The Triple Door Seattle, Washington

Dec 1 2007 9:00P
Doug Fir Lounge Portland, Oregon


Also, I wrote this review of the Kurt Cobain movie, and I'm really proud of it.

Uh... what else?

The movie I co-wrote and acted in, My Effortless Brilliance, is really, really, really great. It was submitted to the Sundance Film Festival (not saying "Sundance" is a small anti-industry gesture), so keep your fingers crossed if you have fingers.

Unemployment is gainful and excellent.

Looking forward to a few days in Chicago with friends old and new.

HD New Year's Eve-ish plans are falling into place.

I have almost nothing else to report. At the moment...

Happy Birthday King James Version

King James Version, the difficult second Harvey Danger album—not the Bible translation, silly!—was released seven years ago yesterday, on September 12, 2000. Writing sessions began in December, 1998, recording started in March or April of 1999 in Bearsville, NY, and continued in fits and starts throughout the next year. By the time it was finished, the major label that bankrolled it no longer existed, and the entire music business had entered an upheaval that, frankly, has yet to end, and isn't likely to.

Though the initial trajectory of the album was away from pop (away from melody, away from fun, away from humor, away from anything the band was identified with or, indeed, was good at), time had a way of guiding us back toward our strengths, and the resulting push and pull made an album that not only reflected the tumltuous life of success, self-doubt, internal wrangling, yearning to prove ourselves to a largely indifferent audience/totally indifferent label, and unavoidable immersion in the depths of narcissism we'd been living, but turned to the elements of that tumultuous life for thematic and even musical inspiration. What I hear when I listen to the album is not the sound of my life in 1998-2001, but the sound of our little band striving (sometimes together, but often against one another) to make it sound more like we thought it should sound. More than anything else, I think, we wanted to make an album that no one expected from us. An album no one else could make. An album that made no concessions to any idea (ours/theirs/yours) of a popular audience. An album you had to seek out. An album you had to work to love. KJV is unarguably that, right down to Tae Won Yu's beautiful/terrible/perfect cover art, which expressed our band's fractured mental and psychic state, or relationship to ourselves, our city, our project, and each other brilliantly. It's also a mess (possibly because we micromanaged him into the ground). There are sounds I hate on the album, but far more that I love. More to the point, having never before or since put so much of myself into anything with so little to show for it afterwards, there are sounds I never got over the fact that more people didn't hear. Almost never. Having met a lot of people who did hear the album and to whom it meant something, I think I am now. Which is better than never, but goddamn...

Sometimes I think we put far too much energy toward all the wrong things. Sometimes I think we were utterly delusional. Sometimes I wish we had done every single thing differently. But sometimes I think KJV is a legitimate cult gem that will one day join the ranks of Oddessey and Oracle and The Village Green Preservation Society or at least fucking Pinkerton or whatever. Not likely, I know, but I still have a dim wish.

Mostly, though, I'm glad to find myself thinking about it less. I do wish it a happy birthday, however, and many happy returns. (Thanks to iTunes).

I See Me 10 Years Ago Today

Well, yesterday, technically.

That was the tenth anniversary (please don't say "10-year anniversary"; it's like saying "three a.m. in the morning") of the original release of Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?, the debut album by my band, Harvey Danger.

The covers were all hand-screened onto cardboard (at the legendary Fort Thunder in Providence, R.I.). Aaron, Evan, Jeff, and I all sat in our revolting living room in South Wedgewood, giddily folding and stuffing them full of booklets and CDs so we could send them back to Brooklyn, where the label (Arena Rock Recording Company, which had released only one other full-length at the time) could then get them out to the handful of indie distributors that had agreed to handle the record. The original pressing was 1,200 copies. Eight months later, a re-mastered version of the same record (in a jewel box) would be released on Slash-London Records.

In the time between, Merrymakers charted somewhere low on CMJ, got great reviews in The Rocket, Magnet, Option, Puncture, Milk, and The Big Takeover and made a respectable showing in The Rocket's Northwest Top 20 charts. We played our first show in NYC, at Coney Island High, with Elf Power and a bunch of other Arena Rock bands on a SMJ showcase.

As a result of all this, we started getting better shows in town and felt a bit more legitimate about being in a rock band despite our rapidly advancing ages (I was 24, after all). We still had never made a single dollar from playing a live show (or any other musical activity), but we all felt like MISSION GODDAMN ACCOMPLISHED.

A few short months later, everything got completely douchetarded.

Hooray!

Singing to the Sunshine

More to come, all incredibly good. So good I can't talk about it all for fear of sounding like a braggart (or perhaps a blaggard, if not indeed a bloggard). But music and writing and acting (!!!) and traipsing around in the sunshine and no longer doing the thing that makes me wake up each day with a feeling of dread—all these systems are go, daddy, go. Plus, interviewing Julien Temple live onstage at SIFF on June 5, birthday a week later, recording two weeks after that, big all-ages HD show on August 10, and two solo shows with Fountains of Wayne August 16 and 19... in response to the famous musical question, yes, Meatballs, I AM ready for the summer.

Also, the little orange man is still incredibly cute. To wit:

Best Show of My Life (part one)

Sunday, March 18, 2006
Belcourt Theater in Nashville.
Band: Robyn Hitchcock, Peter Buck, Gillian Welch, David Rawlings, John Paul Jones, me.

I swear.

I don't know how long it lasted, but not nearly long enough. We did a bunch of Robyn songs, a Grateful Dead song (Candyman), three Dylan songs (Tiny Montgomery, Lo and Behold, Queen Jane Approximately), and two Gillian Welch songs (Elvis Presley Blues, Look at Miss Ohio). It was like the other side of amazing. And then we had dinner. I wish every day was that good.

Everything else is a little who fucking cares at the moment: work, Work, home--all a predictable soup; fuck the highs because i live for the lows. My back has been assaulting me for a couple of weeks now, leaving me physically incapacitated for a few days, then forcing me to walk with a cane. The cane is embarrassing in a way, but in another way it looks kind of perfect. I am nothing if not hobbled.

Looking forward to tour.

O Podcast, My Podcast

My Podcast is up and running here.

It's called All Things to All People, which is basically what I call everything, I know. But this one's a keeper. I'm really proud of it. There will be more to come, on a monthly basis if all goes well.

Please go listen and enjoy. It's about an hour long. The inaugural episode is anchored by an interview with Green Gartside of Scritti Politti, one of the most fascinating people I've ever spoken to on the phone for 30 minutes, as well as features like Music Listings from Other Cities (with the guys from reelerthanthou.com), Steve Fisk’s Eastern Washington Memories, A preview of New Slang for 2007, and more. Plus, a song by the experimental pop trio Menomena, from their brand new Barsuk LP, Friend and Foe.

Anyway, yeah: More fun times to come.

How Easy it is to Spend $100 on Records

Actually, $125.10, but don't let's get overly specific.

2/10/07 used vinyl binge at Easy Street, Queen Anne:

Georges Delerue—Les Plus Belles Musiques de Films de… Volumes 1 & 2

Bugsy Malone—Soundtrack (songs by Paul Williams)

Maurice Chevalier—This is Maurice Chevalier (2xLP)

Albert Camus—Reading in French (from La Peste, La Chute, L’ete, L’etranger)-Party Time!!!

The Prisonaires—Five Beats Behind Bars

Scarlet Rivera—Scarlet Rivera (worth it for the liner notes alone, which never mention Dylan by name, referring to him only as "him," though stopping short of "Him," admirably)

Beyond the Fringe—Original Broadway Cast

Beyond the Fringe ‘64—Original Broadway Cast

Sam & Dave—The Best Of

V/A—Highs in the Mid-Sixties Vol. 7: The Northwest (incl. Jack Bedient and the Chessmen, Jolly Green Giants, H.B. and the Checkmates, The Wilde Knights, The Chambermen, Jack Eely and the Courtment, The Squires, The Sires, The Lincolns, The Express, The Pastels, The Night Walkers, Mr. Lucky and the Gamblers, The Bootmen, and the Rock-N-Souls)

V/A—Highs in the Mid-Sixties Vol. 8: The South (incl. Ravin' Blue, Gaunga Dins [sic], The Midknights, Flay By Nites, The Original Dukes, Skeptics, The Moxies, The Rogues, The Hazards, The Vikings, The Surrealistic Pillar[!!!], The Rugbys, The Sants, and The Guilloteens)

Slade—Slade in Flame

Whirlwind Heat—Flamingo Honey (10”)

And on CD:

Neil Diamond—12 Songs (Artist Cut w/all the original demos).

Morsels of News and a Wee List

Friends,

The Joni Mitchell book is officially out and available in the places that sell books like that. There's a pretty glorious review in The Stranger and generally positive reaction so far, except from one guy, who acted like I was handing him a dirty diaper and asking for a favor when I nonchalantly passed him a copy. Ah, well.

Life continues apace. 2007 remains a very optimistic time for me. To wit:

I'll be doing some shows with Robyn Hitchcock and the Venus 3 in the coming months, both as an opening act (performing with Mark Nichols on piano as Sean Nelson and His Mortal Enemies) and as a member of the V3 (I am the official 5th Venusian).

The shows include these dates:
Friday, March 16 in Austin at SXSW (2 shows)
Sunday, March 18 in Nashville at the Belcourt Theater
Friday, April 6 in Seattle at the Crocodile
Saturday, April 7 in Portland at the Doug Fir
Sunday, April 8 in Eugene at some place
Tuesday, April 10 in SF at Slim's
Thursday, April 12 in LA at Spaceland
Saturday, April 14 in Tucson at Club Congress

These are the first "solo" shows I will have done in several years. Sets will include my own songs, some Nilsson stuff, some HD stuff, and some other stuff. It would please me if you were there.

There are other exciting developments on the horizon, too. For example, Harvey Danger recently celebrated the end of a very fruitful two-year album cycle (is this term too "industry"? is there even a separation between industry and audience anymore? does anybody out there even care?-Lenny Kravitz) for Little By Little... by participating in the Seattle edition of the Burn to Shine series. We played "Little Round Mirrors" in a beautiful home on Phinney Ridge, which was demolished later that day (after Ben Gibbard, Eddie Vedder, David Bazan, the Long Winters, Jesse Sykes, Spook the Horse, and a bunch of other people played in it, too). Everyone involved was smart and nice and conspicuously all about keeping the project fun and light, which it genuinely was. Also, we played really well. Probably won't do much else this year with HD, aside from writing, but one never knows. This was a classic opportunity to (in the words of my former basketball coach, who was, by the by, an obese prick) make our last shot. Keep your eyes trained here for deets and developments.

Another place you should probably keep your eye on is this place I'm saying there oughtta be something special there within days.

Also, at the risk of being cryptic, certain dinners were had with certain parties, and at said dinners, certain plans were hatched that will be of interest to other parties who enjoy certain musical projects. Before the year ends. That's all I'm saying.

And I think there's gonna be another Nelson Sings Nilsson show soon. May, I believe. More on that soon.

And I have stepped down as a host of KEXP's Audioasis. I intend to do other stuff for the station (and may fill in now and again), but after 5 years, the local music show has me feeling a little burned, which is one thing a radio host should never be. So down I step. Thanks for listening, if indeed you listened.

Finally, as promised, a wee list. Every year the year ends and I can't remember what records I liked because, ultimately, who cares? Well, I find that I care, so I'm keeping a monthly list of the records I genuinely enjoyed that month (and maybe singles, too, if I ever listen to the stupid radio again). And, you know, why not publish it? It won't all be new stuff, but this first one is more or less tied to release dates, except for the Midlake album, which I just managed to miss last year. Silly me, for it is a wonder.

January, 2007
Sloan Never Hear the End of ItDespite loving them in bits and pieces, I've never loved a Sloan album before this, and the fact that it comprises 30 songs (yes, 30 songs) on one disc (yes, one disc) is only one small factor. If more bands figured out that most songs don't actually need to be longer than :45 seconds long, the world would be a better place for music. And Robert Pollard would be poet laureate.

Crowded House Farewell to the World Again, never much cared for the records (scattered songs of course), but this 2x live album from their farewell shows in 1996 somehow shows a side I never appreciated before. Aaron H. was always such an apostle. I think I get why now.

Neil Young Live at Massey Hall, 1971 This is coming out in March. Right now, it's my favorite NY record of all time. Recorded between After the Gold Rush and Harvest leaning heavily on songs from both before they became burdensome to him. Everything is so fresh and urgent, and the Harvest songs are completely unadorned. It's also amazing to hear a Neil acoustic show with an audience respectful enough (reverent, actually) not to be shouting CINNAMON GIRL! during every quiet moment like they do now.

Of Montreal Hissing Fauna, Are You the Destroyer? Yeah, guess what: I never liked them before. I was told they were good, but I couldn't let go of the first wave of Elephant 6. Then I heard all their live covers online and started melting. Then I heard this and was sold. This is a fucking strong, spazzy, smart record. The three esses, courtesy of the new Danny Rose.

Welcome Sirs Last time I saw these guys would've been around 1995, maybe at Re-Bar, probably with This Busy Monster or the Adding Machine or Babe the Blue Ox or some such. This psychy and subdued record (coming out in March on Fat Cat) is way better than what I remember them sounding like, which you would hope after 12 years. The same can't be said for all of us, obviously.

The Good, The Bad & The Queen The Good, The Bad & The Queen Because it's usually safe to assume that when shabby aging punkers (and would-be punkers) get together it's because they're bored and salty, I assumed this thing with Mr. Blur and Mr. Clash and Mr. Verve and Mr. Fela Kuti was going to be super raw and chunky. It's totally not. What it is is mellow and gentle, but still agitated and paranoid. One ofr the most unusual bandy records I've heard in a long while. Can I just say now, once and for all that I fucking love Blur and always have? OK, thanks.

What I Did in 2006 (partial)

I'm sure I did more than this, but these are the important things, I think, excluding some (not all) private matters and pharmaceutical dosages. If all goes according to plan, 2007 will be far more about words than music, but one really never ever knows. In the meantime, thanks to those of you that made it a point to say hello this past years. 2006 was easily the worst year of my life, but also a crucial point of transformation. I hope it sticks. Much love to all.

2006

•Released Little By Little… twice (CD on Kill Rock Stars, vinyl on Skrocki).

•Released "Cream and Bastards Rise EP" (Kill Rock Stars)

•Released "Little Round Mirrors EP" (Barsuk)

•Toured with Harvey Danger for the first time since 2000 (SF, LA, SD, Mpls, Champaign-Urbana, Madison, Chicago, Toronto, Montreal, Boston, Philadelphia, NYC, Hoboken). Lost less money than anticipated. Some of the best HD shows of all time.

•Wrote a 33&1/3 book, Court and Spark, published 12/20/06.

•Made Nelson Sings Nilsson, a 15-track album of Harry Nilsson songs, with Mark Nichols after 5 years of thwarted attempts.

•Produced/performed the Nelson Sings Nilsson Live! show at Town Hall (never rent there!), with a 27-piece orchestra. Hardly lost any money at all.

•Sang on 6 out of 10 songs on Robyn Hitchcock LP, Olé Tarantula.

•Sang on 3 songs on The Long Winters LP, Putting the Days to Bed.

•Sang on 2 songs on The Minus 5 LP, The Minus 5 (The Gun Album).

•Sang on 2 songs of Racetrack’s final EP, Go Ahead and Say It.

•Sang on 1 song of The Decemberists LP, The Crane Wife. The song was cut from the album, and my part was cut from the song. Such is life.

•Co-produced “Awesome” EP sessions.

•Performed with Robyn Hitchcock and the Venus 3 at the Crocodile and the Triple Door, was declared official 5th Venus 3.

•Performed with Death Cab for Cutie and The Decemberists at the Gorge.

•Saw Death Cab for Cutie headline the Key Arena. Heart still swollen with pride.

•Performed (unexpectedly) with The Rentals at Neumo’s.

•Served as Music Supervisor on Lynn Shelton’s breathtaking film, We Go Way Back.

•Covered the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival for MSN Music, visited and photographed the lower 9th ward, where my mind was blown and my heart was broken, or vice versa.

•Saw Bruce Springsteen and the Seeger Sessions Band perform at Jazz Fest. Was finally convinced of Springsteen’s powers after years of people telling me and years of me not liking anything he had to say. Received sweaty partial man-hug from Springsteen backstage.

•Also saw Bob Dylan, Elvis Costello & Allen Toussaint, Dr. John, the Edge, and The Preservation Hall Jazz Band. They were ok, too.

•Hired Robert Christgau to write his Consumer Guide for MSN Music, edited first installment, was thrilled.

•Licensed “Flagpole Sitta” to be the theme song to a third and fourth season of Peep Show, one of the best TV sitcoms in the UK.

•Became obsessed with British television comedy, particularly any shows involving Steve Coogan.

•Met and chatted divertingly with Steve Coogan, Zadie Smith, George Saunders, and Sarah Polley at New Yorker Festival closing night party.

•Met, traded songs, and chatted divertingly with Martha Wainwright, Ed Harcourt, Beth Orton, half of the Magic Numbers, Ira Elliot, and others at a McMansion in exurban Austin, TX one very bizarre, very late night.

•Interviewed Billy Bragg, Green Gartside, Regina Spektor, Graham Coxon, Martha Wainwright, Brazilian Girls, Guillemots, Metric, Ramblin’ Jack Elliott, Bobby Bare Sr., Meat Loaf (!!!), Lady Sovereign, Mates of State, Animal Collective, Rhett Miller, Serena Manesh, Celebration, Sheryl Crow, Tim Burgess from Charlatans UK, Erasure, DMC, Godsmack, Hoobastank (!!!), Big & Rich, LIONEL RICHIE, Morningwood, Allison Goldfrapp, Toby Keith, Trace Adkins, T-Bone Burnett, Tom DeLonge, TV on the Radio, Wolfmother, and others.

•Visited Cannes for the first time.

•Separated, lived alone for the first time.

•Was diagnosed with liver disease.

•Beat liver disease.

•Invested heavily in therapy, with beneficial results.

•1200mg Lithium, daily.

Jam of the Year

Some of you may know that I have been trying to make a record of Harry Nilsson songs for the past few years. Some of you may know that, with the help of Mark Nichols and many brilliant local musicians, I made that record this year. Some of you may further know that I've been wanting to perform this album in a live setting. What you may not know is that the show is on. Like Rashomon. (citation: Forrestotle)

Nelson Sings Nilsson LIVE! Friday, December 8th at Town Hall in Seattle (8th and Seneca). The room is like a cathedral. Almost everyone who played and sang on the record will be in the show--which will mean me, singing in front of a 24-piece orchestra/rock band. A rockestra, if I may paraphrase Wings. I feel certain it's going to be a great show.

Did I mention "Awesome" is opening?

Now I am certain.

And it costs $10 in advance. Tickets available through www.brownpapertickets.com.

(And I'm the producer of the show, which means I have to pay for everything, from hall rental to insurance to bowls of M&Ms in the "Awesome" dressing suite, so if people don't show up, Christmas is cancelled!)

Thank you for your attention. I mean that in every way possible.

-Sean

Albums of the Year of the Month

There are so many things I want to blog about, but sometimes even I don't care what I think about these things. I fear that the tour diary will never come (tour was amazing, life-alteringly so), so no Steve Coogan story, no career-based musings, no fulmination on the transitory nature of all things.

Instead, how about a list of records I really like? This is what my 2006 has sounded like lately.

Scritti Politti-White Bread, Black Beer (has led, incongrously, to listening to the early and middle period Scritti records, too. That's more '80s dance funk pop than I am accustomed to. I love it. Anomie and Bonhomie in particular. Apparently, it has also led me to use the abbreviation "Scritti.")

Lady Sovereign-Public Warning (finally)
Racetrack-Go Ahead and Say It EP (sigh)
Robyn Hitchcock & The Venus 3-Ole Tarantula (obvs)
Bruce Springsteen & the Seeger Sessions Band-We Shall Overcome (the only Bruce record I've ever liked)
Lupe Fiasco-Food and Liquor (why do i love this?)
Goldfrapp-Supernature (swoon)
The Decemberists-The Crane Wife(kind of undeniable)
The Trucks-The Trucks (sorry, RT, it basically rules)
Let's Go Sailing-untitled, coming soon (not a moment too soon)

...aaand.... whofuckingcares.

Care to Judge a Book?

Coming very soon.

My Blood is now Throat Coat

My poorly voice is much mended, thanks to the advices of the great Sarah Rudinoff and the ministrations of throat coat, which I have been drinkinging constantly for days. More news later, but the shows are amazing (Canada was a good time) and I'm hanging in. MANY THANKS for all the kind thoughts and supportive words. They have mattered. They will continue to matter. Until Hoboken. Then all bets are off.

There I Go... Turn the Page

Tour is an unbelievably intense psychic crucible. The shows are profoundly rewarding expressions of mutual love and appreciation between us and the people who have stuck it out all these years waiting for us to play. They show up. They fly across oceans to be there. They know all the words. They request the deep cuts. They thank us for not playing that song. They are perfect. Perfect.

The camaraderie in the van (a rented Euro-style Sprinter!!!) is unprecedentedly positive, fraternal, and fun as well. It feels like a healthy, real band on tour for the first time ever. And I mean ever.

Everything seems poised for triumph.

And then I get fucking laryngitis? There's no pain, no other symptoms, no nothing; just no voice. Fighting the monitors at show number two (goddamn college sound guy), I sang myself completely out. Now, I'm popping steroids, swilling Throat Coat, and obeying a strict regimen of not speaking at all, which feels like a punishment sent down from Zeus--the perfect torture for a ceaseless yammerer like me. But to not be able to sing. AFTER ALL THIS. Why bother being alive? We almost cancelled Chicago, at Schuba's (one of the best clubs in America), which was SOLD OUT, for fuck's sake. My sound check was disastrous. But it was too late to cancel, so the show went on, and with the help of prednisone and the very palpable love and support of the people, I summoned up the last scrap of trouper spirit and sang my heart out (it felt like literally) for an hour. A short show, but legit. Now we have to cancel Buffalo so I can save up for a power home stretch of Toronto, Montreal, Boston, Motown Philly, NYC, and Hoboken.

I honestly don't know if we'll make it, though I intend to spend every last second worrying.

Nothing, but nothing, is ever easy. Not being able to talk is hell. Not being able to sing is a whole other matter. It's kind of all I have. Will advise.

My Snowman's Ann-i-ver-sa-ry

Yesterday was the first birthday of Little By Little.... He's just adorable. Seems like only yesterday he was learning to sit up straight, taking those first coltish steps, saying his first word ("recoupment," if memory serves). And now he's one. It's been a busy year. He's been released three times, in three different packages by three different labels; he's been downloaded over 150,000 times; and he's basically all paid for. His birth is being commemorated by two excellent filmmakers whose work will soon be visible in the places that show music videos.

Which is more than I can say for his difficult older sibling, King James Version, who also had a birthday yesterday. He's now six years old and we still can't find him anywhere (except in the sleazier corners of the damn internet). I give him some slack, because he was a difficult pregnancy (15 months or so), but when I look at him now, all I see are the forceps scars.

Still, I love him like you always love the thing that causes you the most misery.

We never talk about our eldest.

What Happens to a Meme Deferred?

No one tagged me, but how could I let that stop me? Cut and pasted from dear Ann Powers.

A book that changed my life: Sound and Sense (back-up: Grendel by John Gardner)

A book I've read more than once: The White Album by Joan Didion (back-up: Money by Martin Amis)

A book I would take with me if I were stuck on a desert island: I guess you’d be a sucker not to take something huge, and I guess you’d maybe be more of a sucker to take something that you identify too closely with the misery of real life. If there were a complete collected works of Charles Dickens, I would take that—but I would have to make sure that the print was big enough for my increasingly functionless eyes to make sense of. Failing that, I liked the Bullfinch’s Mythology answer by Ms. AP. You want to believe you’d take a collected Shakespeare, but it would be a little oppressive after a while. Norton Anthology? Definitely fiction. Definitely big.

A book that made me laugh: The last time I read Portnoy’s Complaint (in a thatch-roof hut on a tiny island in the South Pacific) I laughed so hard it scared the lizards away and made the Aussies wonder if perhaps I had a few ‘roos loose in the top paddock.

A book that made me cry: Raise High the Roofbeam, Carpenters and Seymour, An Introduction (both stories, different reasons)

A book that I wish had been written: My Effortless Brilliance, by Sean Nelson.

A book I wish had never been written: I don’t care. How can you wish a book un-written? So harsh. I mean, The Bible, because of all the terrible things people have done because of it (like, uh, believing it), but then, you could also basically wipe away 75% of all Western culture with it. Maybe Illusions by Richard Bach? But only because of all the theater girls I loved in high school who made me pretend to read it. The Celestine Prophecy (a/k/a The Philistine Heresy)? For Common Things by Jedediah Purdy (what a d-bag!)?

A book I've been meaning to read: Everything by Don DeLillo. I tried to read White Noise and thought it was awful, like a Stanley Kramer movie or something—relevant to its time, maybe, but painful now. Then I read Running Dog and thought it was great. So now I reckon I’ll try Libra.

I'm currently reading: Patrimony by Philip Roth, Libra by Don DeLillo

A Book I Wish I'd Written: I feel that way about every book. And every song. And every film. To the extent that when I don’t like something, I even feel relieved, like, well, it’s probably ok that I didn’t write that, even though it’s reprehensible that I’m not writing, even now. The feeling is more like “I wish I were capable of having written that.” Most recently, most palpably: The Disappointment Artist by Jonathan Lethem.

Two Additional Words:

Scritti Politti!

I know, right? I may just be believing some hype, but just lately I'm having a very hard time not listening to this:



I don't know how I feel about the voice, but the melodies and words and textures are fantastic. And there's something really irresistible about the narrative arc of a band that starts as fake Gang of Four, then becomes fake white plastic soul, and now re-emerges as this bizarre lo-fi Beach Boys harmonics plus literate pop dialectics. Comme c'est beezarre, non? I'm going to need to investigate. (But not before I finish listening to Gene Wilder reading his own autobiography.) How exciting!

In other news, I only barely remember them from the '80s. I definitely remember the band name, which seemed silly even then, but "Perfect Way" rings only the faintest top-40-radio-station-on-the-school-bus-ride-to-Colina-and/or-Westlake bell when I listen now. I do remember seeing stacks and stacks of the tape of Cupid and Psyche '85 when my friends Ken and Howard took me to K-Mart for the first time, in 1987, which was sort of like when Jeff made me eat SPAM for the first time in 1995: unpleasant. "PW" does sound exactly like the '80s, however, in that weird, airless, hyperprecise, robots-could-have-and-probably-did-play-most-of-the-sounds-you-hear-on-this way. Still, catchy.

Finally, re: Christgau getting fired by the Village Voice (because you need to know how I feel): I keep meaning to think it's really awful and sad, because he really is one of the titans (his review of Brighten the Corners of all Pavement records, returns to me all the time), and there isn't much good, smart writing in the alt-weeklies of the world... But it feels more like a great band getting dropped by a major label. Can anyone lay legitimate claim to being surprised?

(And with that, Creeper Lagoon pops up on the iPod.)

The Trouble with Classicists

So, I was just sitting around, crying (which I find I do all the time now), and listening to this amazing record, which was one of the first truly interesting/out there/"alternative" late-'80s/early '90s (I think it was 1990; it was certainly right near the end of high school) I ever bought and really identified with. And anyway, though the VU remain unimpeachable, and always an intense, amazing source of pleasure, I'm not really sure how I feel about all those Lou solo records I was so painfully, powerfully attached to 10-12 years ago (have you made it all the way through Berlin lately? That record used to blow my mind), and there are probably only three or four Cale solo things I've ever been able to get into in any serious way (and by things I mean songs, not records--part of this is based on the embarrassment of seeing him playing live, not once but twice). Still, Songs For Drella seems like the best of both of these guys. The heavy narrative keeps Lou focused, while the stripped down aesthetic puts Cale's best instrumental instincts on display. The piano work is astounding. Unlike the VU reunion from 92 or whenever it was, this project finds them keeping each other honest. Making music about Andy Warhol, who never really holds my interest in real life, forces them to reckon just how much their entire careers were founded on one charlatan's pop art whim 25 years prior. Reed is so good here, so obviously vulnerable and feeling, but sharp and cold, too. He slips in and out of Andy's voice and his own narration with such purpose and grace, alternately scolding, apologizing to/for, celebrating, and fondly remembering his old sissy svengali. "I Believe" starts off as a screed against Valerie Solanas ("I believe life's serious enough for retribution... I believe I would've pulled the switch on her myself"), but becomes a lament for his own failure to come to his friend's aid at a time of real need ("Andy said, 'I think I died. Why didn't you come to see me?'"); the final refrain—"visit me/ visit me/ visit me/ why didn't you visit me"—is brutal, but perfect. I love how this record sounds like the good things about the '80s. It belongs in the capsule with Spalding Gray, David Lynch, and Spy Magazine, and all those other things I don't remember. It's very white dress shirt with the top button buttoned. I like that, though.

MySpace Sings Nilsson

Oh yeah, this exists. I'll try and switch the songs up from time to time, and I'll try to make it so this isn't the only place they exist.

Did I mention I went to the Storm game before they were eliminated? It was AMAZING. My love for Lauren Jackson is undiminished. That is all.

News

HD tour blog to come when I write it. It was a complicated emotional excursion, to be sure, but also, miraculously, fun. Aaron wrote one, too, for double, if not, indeed, triple the pleasure.

Gervais Podcast season 3 begins August 22. This is very important, especially when you consider the fact that I am now on my sixth time through the original nine hours worth of seasons 1 and 2. I usually skip 2.1, though. I mean, I'm not a freak.

Hope is Emo is, provably, the funniest thing anyone has ever done.

Why so podcasty, you might ask? Well, because All Things to All People is now going to be a podcast. Debuting in October. It's gonna be funny. More news as it develops.

I am currently only #225,595 authors away from being #1!!!

Nelson Sings Nilsson is basically done. Samplers are circulating relevant earways. I'm just not going to expect anything. I guess maybe a MySpace page is in order.

I am developing a potentially unhealthy delayed post-mortem re-attachment to Spalding Gray. It has always been there (my weird connections to him, mainly surrounding Our Town, are like elements of my own SG monologue travesty, which I will spare you), but just lately, i'm listening to the CDs again and again--in the car, in bed as I try to sleep; I'm watching the movies; I'm reading the novel and the monologues that didn't get recorded; i'm cutting out pictures and putting them places, haunted by his ghost-like final Bumbershoot show. My mother thinks this is unhealthy. I'm not saying she's wrong, but I kind of can't help myself. Did you read his journal entries in Harper's? Jesus. Jesus. "How shall I do it," indeed.

Ole, indeed

I find this press release really exciting, mainly because my name is mentioned in the same clause as Morris Windsor, pretty much my favorite harmony singer who was never in the Beatles. (Though I was sad to learn the song I sang on didn't make it on the glorious new Decemberists record--nor did my part make it on the song: two time loser=me--this definitely makes up for the loss. I don't know which parts survived the final mix, but I know I sang on 6 of the 10 songs here. RH fans rejoice. This is the best one a long time, and I pretty much like them all...)

Robyn Hitchcock
Ole Tarantula to be released October 3 on Yep Roc

"What makes this record for me is the musicians I was able to gather," says Robyn Hitchcock of Ole Tarantula, a surreal vision and Technicolor celebration of life - from its inception and the whole catastrophe of it - till its groovy decay and inevitable last breath.

"To me, the whole record is sadness cloaked in fun. But under that fun, more sadness," says Hitchcock.

Such seeming contradictions are what make Hitchcock a credible narrator to his incredible kingdom of song, the one he's built on a foundation of dreamlike, whimsical, tragic comedy and set to gorgeous and slightly askew melodies for the last 30 years. In Hitchcock's universe, adventure rocket ships, exploding, twist-off heads and crawling things are the norm, as are supersonic harmonies and an ever-present chiming guitar sound. Through the years, those heavenly refrains, the harmonicas and the hilarity conspired and drew a blueprint for alternative pop as we know it. Is it any wonder he attracts stellar company when he settles in to make a record?

Recorded in Seattle in September 2005 and March 2006, Hitchcock is joined throughout Ole Tarantula by the Venus 3--Peter Buck, Scott McCaughey and Bill Rieflin--old friends who he notes are also "3/4ths of the Minus 5 and half of R.E.M."

"We sound like a smart garage band, to my ears, when we play live. The record is a little more tidy, but they still rock, and rock me along with them. This is the rockingest record I've made in years," he says.

The Venus 3 is joined by a cast of recurrent and new characters in the Hitchcock story: Soft Boys/Egyptians bandmate Morris Windsor and Sean Nelson (Harvey Danger) on gleaming background harmonies; Chris Ballew (Presidents of The United States of America) on harmony vocals and keyboards. Soft Boys guitarist Kimberley Rew assists on three tracks and the Faces' Ian McLagan adds his famous keyboard hands to "N.Y. Doll."

"'N.Y. Doll' is one of my favorites," says Hitchcock of the elegy inspired by the recent documentary on the New York Dolls' bassist. "I never met Arthur Kane but his story is another example of how precious a life becomes when it's over."

"Underground Sun," written for a friend of Hitchcock's who died last spring, jingle-jangles across the astral plane. "She was a very upbeat person so I wrote her what I hope is an exciting elegy, not a mournful one."

Fuelled by mysticism, the choogling "The Museum of Sex" is in Seaford, Sussex, "But only visible at low tide," he explains. "It's an elegy for my life as a human. Again not too mournful I hope."

"These songs were all written at home in London, though often reference the States. I've been commuting for over 20 years but I live here no matter how often I orbit through Los Angeles," says Hitchcock. Indeed, the West is an auspicious presence throughout Ole Tarantula.

"Belltown Ramble" is set in Seattle, its character and location drawn from "A 14th Century Uzbekistani warlord with an elegant name" and a bar in Belltown. San Francisco crops up in the Dirty Harry/Magnum Force-inspired, "Limitations, Briggs," as well as in the title song ? "About where babies come from" ? written after an extended stay in Tucson, Arizona.

Hitchcock has long made insects and sea creatures his favorite subjects and they have their say throughout Ole Tarantula, his self-described "twenty-somethingth" album.

"As a thinking person I'm completely in despair, but as a creature I'm quite happy," he told The Believer in 2005. That would explain quite a lot about the happy/sad world of Hitchcock's songs...

Beginning as a strummer in Cambridge, England's folk clubs, by the coming of the first punk rock era, Hitchcock had developed into a bandleader, heading up folk-pop iconoclasts the Soft Boys, one of alternative rock's least sung but most influential bands. Yet by the time R.E.M., the Replacements and pre-alt-rockers like them revealed its influence on their own bands, Hitchcock had moved on to what would become his distinguished solo career. Recording and releasing records like his stark debut, Black Snake Diamond Role, the warm, all-acoustic I Often Dream of Trains and the psychedelicized Groovy Decay ? sometimes with and sometimes without his band the Egyptians ? Hitchcock would unwittingly help shape the pop strain of contemporary alternative rock. In 1998, director and fan Jonathan Demme placed him in a shop window for the concert film Storefront Hitchcock, introducing his engaging live show to wider audiences. As Hitchcock continues to record and tour as a solo and band act, his direction has veered from the folky Moss Elixir and the rocky Jewels for Sophia to the folk-rock tribute to Bob Dylan, Robyn Sings! Each time out, he is consistently and singularly, Robyn Hitchcock. In 2002, the Soft Boys briefly reunited for the long anticipated Nextdoorland and Hitchcock followed with his 2004 Yep Roc release Spooked, a collaboration with alternative country artists Gillian Welch and David Rawlings. Hitchcock called the studio experience "An extraordinarily good dream." At the time of its release, The New York Times noted he was an "...acute observer of love, death and the entire evolutionary continuum..."

"Years ago I wrote a song called 'My Mind Wants to Die But My Body Wants to Live' and that was the only lyric in it," he told The Believer. "And really, that pretty much sums me up."

When SPAM is True

"It’s a difficult job accepting you were wrong. Agree with that? Don’t let emotions guide you. Make use of worthy facts some of which you will learn just by keeping reading this..."

fuckers.

At the Risk of Total Self-Absorption

So, there's a medium-small interview with me in this magazine, and, well... : this is the long version.

They're pretty different, I think.

Not that anything matters in the world.

P.S.
Neumo's?

Addendum/Erratum

Of course I care.

Secondly: The Hollies!

But also, Howard Jones. I know, right? I just listened to "No One is To Blame." It sounds so exactly like the '80s actually felt for me: Sentimental, vapid, synthetic, and nonsensical, yet somehow really catchy and sad.

Good to the motherfucking times.

Snippety Snip

There's a wee excerpt from my wee book about Joni Mitchell's Court and Spark album here. I don't know if it's good. I don't know if I care.

I do know that the "Awesome" EP sessions I "co-produced" the past two weekends (with the estimable Jon Auer at the wheel, and the able bodied assistance of Jayme the engineer), have yielded four spectacularly ear-wormy rough mixes along with some very tender memories (and nipples!). It's always nice to watch the pros in action. And the bros, obviously. Grabass? Yes. But motivated grabass. The recordings do exactly what I hoped they would, which was to push a band (probably my favorite band in Seattle at the moment, at least among bands I know personally and occasionally perform with, though I'm really trying to stop performing, though you wouldn't know it to look at my day planner) full of other-than-rock skills and influences towards the rock that obviously lurks in its soul. Not to say there isn't plenty of delicacy and subtle flavor in the songs--there is. But there is also a simpled-down bandness about them, too. It makes a lovely cocktail. Or maybe a mocktail. You should buy it, but first, we should finish it.

Further: This Sunday ought to be the final day of tracking for the Nelson Sings Nilsson record. I have rough mixes of 14 songs from this record, replete with all the fancy strings and horns you could ever want, arranged both brilliantly and bizarrely--as promised--by Mark Nichols. I had a small nervous breakdown (along the lines of a mini-stroke) yesterday when it became clear that I actually couldn't tell how I felt about the record now that it's a hair's breadth away from completion, or indeed about anything at all. This led to several hours of talking to myself out loud, a sprinkling of tears, and a brief paroxysm that included physical convulsion (true). My impulse was to throw the tapes in the river, the way they do in interviews with musicians who lie (see: The Replacements, Bright Eyes). But, of course, there are no tapes, so the digital revolution has saved me another few thousand dollars. Thanks, digital revolution!

Oh yeah, and HD on Friday at the Neumo's. No idea what to expect (other than a few VERY deep cuts). And then HD in California next week. And then HD lunchboxes!!!!!!

Breaking the Chain

I would like to say that the new Lindsey Buckingham solo record, entitled Lindsey Buckingham, I believe, is basically astonishing. I don't know if I like it, but it's really really really weird sounding. Lots of megamultitracked acoustic guitar, played at breakneck speeds--not like the Minutemen or anything, but pretty souped up--and spooky echo vocals (also megamultitracked) a plenty. No drums till song 9, i think. After being given a walking tour of Tusk, his (bizarre) response to New Wave, I became aware that LB was a complete freak of nature. He's also a king of melody. This is a very strange record. I think I love it.

I know I love the new Decemberists record, The Crane Wife. It comes out in October. It's a whole 'nother thing for them, full of gorgeous folk-rock, along the lines of The Waterboys Fisherman's Blues.

Lastly, that Minutemen documentary? Really sad and sweet. I couldn't help wondering what the underground today would make of a D. Boon figure emerging from nowheresville, with a bulging body and no fashion sense, with an abstract sense of humor and no fear of pretension in his poetic/ philospohical/ literary/ political/ classic rock reference points. A genuinely populist elitist. A viscerally intellectual artist. I know it doesn't really apply, because he was a product of his moment, and a compeletly original visionary for rock. I'm just saying--as I watched this movie, I kept wondering: what would the music critblogs make of a latter day D. Boon, were his equivalent to arise today? I wonder if they'd recognize him without the cosmetic trappings, the obviousness of gesture, the simplicity that seems to mark out the more significant musicians of the day. I don't think I would, necessarily, just as I wouldn't have/didn't then. I was a pre-teen and teenager in SoCal when Minutemen were happening, and short of seeing their name on a couple of studboy military jackets and the (VERY) occasional notebook cover, I had no idea what they were about, other than Not For Me. I only became aware of how blissful and jubliant and inclusive their explosive sound really was. Seeing the movie reminded me of what a beautiful, noble, and brave self-invention American punk actually was.

I still don't like Black Flag, though. Just the idea of Black Flag.

Update

1. Finished Joni Mitchell book draft. Sent to publisher.
2. Seattle Sound magazine July issue published a few of my New Orleans photos along with an essay by me about my trip and related meanderings about music, community, and the like.
3. HD recorded "live" b-sides today for Barsuk single release of "Little Round Mirrors" in September.
4. Release of Kill Rock Stars edition of Little By Little... nine days and counting.
5. HD tour dates in August (SF, LAx2, SD) and September-October (Minneapolis-DC) confirmed or close to confirmed.
6. Nelson Sings Nilsson basic tracks done, vocals+orchestration nearing completion. Sounds better than I'd ever hoped.
7. Job is improving.
8. Additional recording project with excellent friends (shh...) on schedule for end of July.
9. Renewed energy for KEXP and super secret other broadcasting project.
10. And yet... still incredibly sad all the time. On the street, in the car, at home. Sad sad sad. Can't shake it. Not really trying. Sad is the only thing I know how to be, other than busy. So let's just focus on the busy, shall we? Bzzzz.

Basically...

I am obsessed with this song. I can't say why, but I am. Long live the Brothers Gibb. Even the dead ones.

It Is Accomplished

As of this minute, the word count stands at 30, 092. I laughed uncontrollably for over a minute when I saw that number. Much to elaborate, since I've read none of it (and it's 8 & 1/2 months late...), but the Court and Spark draft is done.

And there was much rejoicing.

By me and me alone.

You'll Believe a Man Can Suck

The real problem with the new Superman movie is just the guy they cast as Superman. He's totally not Superman, not even a little. He reminded me of Evan Sult, who is a great person and a dear friend, but ain't no Superman. Also, Kate Bosworth is a total zero, Parker Posey has nothing to do, and Kevin Spacey, well... He just can't be trusted. I love Bryan Singer and was really on board with a lot of the choices he made, but this one got away from him. The X-Men films were great because the blatant gay subtext is pret a porter from the comics. You can't really make the same leap—and Singer plainly tries—when the "mutation" is that you're omnipotent. Then, as though sensing the queer allegory won't fly (HAHAHAHAHAHHAHA), Singer switches metaphorses midstream and goes for some Jesus juice. That doesn't stick either. Superman is more or less allegory proof as a superhero. No flaws=no drama. I know it doesn't matter. It's just that the Richard Donner Superman and the Richard Lester Superman 2 (more to the point) have aged so well, it seems perverse to remake them so soon. Christopher Reeve has never been more impressive than when he was so conspicuously absent from the new movie. The new guy did a fair CR impression, but that doesn't make you Superman.

I'm sorry... are we still talking about this? I'm gonna go see A Scanner Darkly.

In the immortal words of John Roderick: NEEEEERRRRRDDDS!

Dear Every Person in the World

Please go to this page of this website.

Now figure out the puzzle and enjoy it at length.

Now write a note to yourself to listen as they play on my wee radio show on this fine radio station this Saturday night at 6:30, and never again ask why "Awesome" is obviously the finest band in the Americas.

PS
The new Christina Aguilera single is the song of the summer, if summers still have songs. I will now eat my hat. And her filthy underclothes, if they'll have me.

Love Without Anger

Here is a picture of me and Mark Mothersbaugh, founder of Devo, one of the best bands of ever, a band whose best work was good when I was a little kid and is even better now, one of the first "modern" pop groups I ever heard and liked and "got" and therefore forever thought about music in the context of, a band even my older step-brother and I could agree on. I interviewed him on-stage for a SIFF "Master Class" last week. It was cool. He was funny. He was smart. He was scatological. DId I mention he wrote the theme song to Pee-Wee's Playhouse? HELLO!?! Mark Motherfucking Mothersbaugh!!! And ME!!! Whoo-HOO!!! (Doesn't he look excited?)

I Climb You As I Grow Older

In case anyone was wondering, the Throwing Muses album University is a flawless masterpiece, one of the great unappreciated, seemingly forgotten classics of the last 10, no let's make it 20 years. My CD copy is in storage (all my CDs are in storage, except the comedy records, for some weird reason), so I bought it online (hey, MSN Music!) and have listened to it about 15 times in the last week. For a long time I was partial to The Real Ramona, which is probably still my sentimental favorite. But University fucking SLAYS. And it sounds so much more organic and raw than the other TM albums. In 1995, when I interviewed Kristin Hersh for the Glass Onion (the only time I ever got to say "STOP THE PRESSES" at an actual printing plant because I found out the production guy had changed the spelling of Kristin to Kristen and I refused to let it stand; spelling counts, yo), I just assumed that the world would line up to vaunt and glorify her obvious, manifest genius. It never happened. As the massive guitar throbs into the intro of "Start," as the band ramps up to the delirium of "Shimmer," as the harmonic lilt of "Crabtown" lulls me into blissful unconsciousness, I remain baffled.

What I'm saying is: Go dust off your copy and revel in its thunderous grandeur. What? You don't have one? Shame on you. They're on Amazon used for a buck and a quarter. That is simply wrong.

Things I Did On This, My 33rd Birthday

Ate thai food (chicken satay and cashew chicken) for lunch and dinner.
Worked a full day at work
Rehearsed Nilsson songs with the Nelson Sings Nilsson band
Rehearsed Cohen songs by myself
Spoke to my mother and stepfather
Debated calling my father
Thought better of it
Spoke to one of two younger brothers
Spoke to two of four step sisters
Considered infinity
Contemplated ending it all
Thought better of it
Ate a very small portion of ice cream and a few bites of brownie
Listened to the entirety of American Thighs by Veruca Salt
Considered the future of Harvey Danger
Discussed semi-extensive tour dates for Harvey Danger between August and December
Felt surprisingly optimistic
Spent 40 minutes with my closest friend
Felt indescribably sad
Self-googled
Bought unabridged versions of Lolita and Huckleberry Finn on CD
Rescued this blog from oblivion with the aid of a crappy design template
Drove by the bad store on 99
Made my bed
Failed to sleep in it

Thank You, Friends

wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you/i'm so grateful for all the things you help me do...

this is from the first of two harmonic convergences I made at/on Sasquatch. I sang on "16 Milit'ry Wives" with the Decemberists and "Crooked Teeth" with Death Cab, just like on the records.

It was real nice.

Another Question:

Is it really true that I am really loving the new Dixie Chicks single? It would appear to be.

Also, to my friends who have been trying to convince me for years that Bruce Springsteen is not full of poo, I had a revelatory experience seeing him play his Seeger Sessions stuff in New Orleans with a 17 piece band. By the third or fourth song in, I was sobbing, reverent, on my knees. I got it. (I think it had a lot to do with the fact that he wasn't playing his own songs, but still... it was incredibly powerful.)

I keep meaning to blog about it (what else is a blog for?) and to post the (many) photos I took, but I keep running out of time, so I'll just direct you here, which may lead you deeper into my own professional rabbit hole than you've ever even considered going. Works best on Explorer. I'm just saying.

O Portland, Is My Soul in Thee?

So, I drove to Portland at 12 midnight, arrived at 2:30am, slept in a four star hotel, woke up to an omelette and good coffee, drove to a studio where I saw a roomful of people I love and admire, sang elaborate harmonies on a great song by a great band I am privileged to know, interviewed with a friend whose music I really respect for his band's DVD, then basked in the friscalating dusklight with two of my sweetest friends, who drank pomegranate cosmopolitan after mojito while we shared garlic-strewn artichoke hearts on crusty bread.

Even I can confess that life looks good on paper.

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Poet Laureate of Rock'n'Roll (and other bullshit)

So, the short version is: I'm watching Bob Dylan play, and his people have issued a very stern edict that no photos may be taken of Mr. Dylan, at all, by anyone. I didn't intend to take any, until I saw the house security people actually going into the crowd to yell at people to put down their cell phone cameras OR ELSE. It was totally absurd. BD was 50 yards from the closest barricade, and his tour manager guy was pointing out teenage hippies for the security folks to shake down. I couldn't resist.

The first couple of shots are of the JumboTron and the utter cock of a security guard who yelled at a very sweet young kid with a camera. The others are from the other side of the stage, and are significant not only because they're kind of out of focus (though still better than the AP or Reuters wire photos, which were clearly snagged from the same spot), but because they were snapped within five feet of the guy who was leading the charge to intimidate the people in the crowd who wanted to get a little snap of their hero to post on their blog.

Dicks.

Oh yeah, Dylan was great. He can't sing anymore and the new arrangements of his songs (incl. Maggie's Farm, Hwy 61 Revisited, Don't Think Twice, Like a Rolling Stone, Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues, Positively 4th Street, All Along the Watchtowr) were so boogie/swing-ed out that you could be forgiven for thinking he was making fun of himself, there's just no denying his irreducible Dylanness. He really seemed to be enjoying himself. That matters. And he didn't play "Down in the Flood," which seemed like an obvious choice. He never makes the obvious choice. Even now.