NYC, Un-Earbudded

Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored

- Aldous Huxley

Hey! I'm walkin' here!

- Ratso Rizzo (Dustin Hoffman) Midnight Cowboy

Placed inside your ear canal, it's buds blossoming into sound with a touch, the portable mp3 player has become the greatest asset to anyone wanting a constant soundtrack for their lives. This isn't news to anyone who's been alive in the last 3 years. Manhattan, Mecca for the ipodded masses, has scores of people silently nodding their head to a favorite song, everywhere they go. At the park, on the street, on the train, in the restaurant, in the bookstore and at work music is filling up the monotonous quiet moments, drowning the street's constant blare. You're not missing much anyways while your riding the train, or walking to the corner...are you?

I've been on a mission as of late, recede quietly from the nasty habit of not being fully aware of everything around me. I love my little shuffle. It holds just the right amount of music from my collection, and I change it out daily. But, I've noticed while wearing my headphones, I get into a trance. The constant drone of a song plays in my head while I daze off into space, on the train or walking outside. Many people believe this is an ideal way to pass through the droll commute or daily hassle of the New York streets, head in the sand.

Part of my mission includes wearing my headphones for a set amount of time. For example, I can listen to them on the commute to work, but not on the way home. It's time for headphone addicts to take similar action. The environment around you is a living, breathing organism that is humanity. The 6 train's whoosh as it enters the station, the dog barking, the loud conversations that two men are having next to you, the beggars, the vendors, the subway performers and the overheard conversations are all reasons you should listen. Listen to the music that 8 million people make everyday, because you are one of them. A triangle player in the symphony of tires splashing through water, wind rustling around a building and Ah-ha's "Take on Me" blaring out of that guy's Mazarati.

I like Blue Moon...

With that said I was drinking a Blue Moon Belgian-Style Wheat Ale this evening when I read the label which states..."for a uniquely complex taste & an uncommonly smooth finish." That made me think of a style of music that I have become particularly fond of lately, that of instrumental quasi-electronic music, and more specifically the aforementioned with drums of the jazz persuasion. Sounds like a tough class to get a hold of, but I've managed to find a lot of bands lately that I feel fit this category. They are all "uniquely complex" while at the same time having quite an "uncommonly smooth finish." The first foray into this was from an NPR broadcast when I heard of the band Moon Orchestra (I would provide some sort of link to his work but this guy is a recluse who doesn't work through the world wide web). This is the brain child of Jon Platou Selvig, who is also a member of the band Salvatore. Both these Norwegian bands are smooth music makers that can be listened to as a background to work, conversation, and all your creative activities. Most importantly they are amazing at their craft, and create really interesting music that withstands the tests of multiple listens.

Two others worth mentioning come from another circle of artists in multiple bands. First is the band Ratatat. This band is a bit more uptempo, more of a dance-ilk. None-the-less they are classically entertaining song writers who really capture your attention. From this band we also get Evan Mast's side project E*vax. His work for E*vax is much more electronic, and I am normally not much for the primarily electronic pieces, but once again this is music that provides a perfect backdrop for any activity (except things that require raising your heart rate). He releases his E*vax stuff through a label he and Ratatat bandmate Mike Stroud run called Audio Dregs. Other notable artists I've found from this label include Supersprite, and F.S. Blumm. There is a great sampling of music on their site to help you pick up what you might like.

I'll give you a few samples if you're lazy...and I hope you like, "But you don't have to take my word for it..."

Ratatat-Wildcat-listen to the bridge...


E*vax-Contra Costa


Salvatore-Rainbo


Moon Orchestra-Moving On Out-listen to the drums...

Rocky Mountain HIGH...ya'll

According the "late" great Tupac Shakur, the weekends were made for Michelob. Here in Denver, quite possibly the whitest city in the world, we tend to think that weekends are made for microbrews....and scantily clad women, air-born jello shots, hula hooping eskimoes, naked skiers and, well, straight-up debauchery on the mountain. Lets rewind to April 14, 2007 where the seventh annual Thrift Store Ski Party (a.k.a. TSSP 07..baby) took place at Arapahoe Basin. It was a beautiful sunny day, one of the 300 days of the year where that great blazing star in the sky shines down on our gorgeous state.

Anyhow, I digress. A-Basin is a locals mountain approximately an hour and half from the Denver city limits, nestled between the more popularized resorts of Keystone and Breckinridge. On this day all the crazies come out to dress in 70/80's esque ski clothes, drink free Flying Dog Pale Ale, hula hoop, dance to various dj's and bands, and then ski down the mountain for the coveted 4 ft tall barbie doll.

I would love to go into all the nitty gritty details of the day, but now that I'm a top secret agent working for the feds...I think its best I keep it in my sneakers. But, if you're lucky, next year you too can wear nothing but a man-sized diaper taking shots off of a ski just after finger banging a chicken ( twice). Cross ya fingers....

For more insanity....check out this site. http://www.veoh.com/videos/v392190emmmcxXS

The battle of the big bands...

I was recently giving my apartment a cleaning while listening to my iPod. While on a random shuffle I was allowed to listen to tracks by Broken Social Scene and Arcade Fire back to back, which led to the thinking...which of these two bands is more deserving of the hype? It is an interesting comparison, what with all of their similarities. Let's give them a quick run through...
1) Both hail from Canada
2) Both have released two official full length LPs (Let's not count EPs and collections here)
3) Both could be considered collectives, or groups of friends who collaborate on an album
4) Both have principle song writers who form the backbone that is then expanded on
5) Both draw from a circle of talented musicians who play a multitude of instruments
6) Both sounds, though different, have the same layered atmospheric feel
7) Both have received astronomical amounts of hype
So who is more deserving. I am just one humble opinion, but let it be heard. My vote is for BSS. I believe the self titled sophomore effort by BSS to be a highly underrated effort that seems to have flown low of the peaks reached by You Forgot In People. The Arcade Fire in much the same case had a spectacular debut that garnered all sorts of critical acclaim and anticipation of a second effort. That second effort is, in my opinion, a dud. The only highlight I've found that I could listen to in the long run is No Cars Go, which is a rerecording of a song they had previously released. Go back and listen to You Forgot in People, then listen to Broken Social Scene and tell me I'm wrong. I dare you. Simply for the mere fact that KC Accidental might be one of the most beautiful songs that I've ever heard, one of only two songs that I can tell you exactly where I was when I first heard it, BSS gets my vote. Don't mistake me, I look forward for a third album from both, I just think that Arcade Fire fell a little flat for all the hype this time around. And if you haven't heard the Arcade Fire offshoot Bell Orchestra then you have been missing out.

"That's Scott Caan!"

Star sightings in Manhattan are supposed to be the norm. They live here and so do you, it's going to happen. The ultimate question is what to do whenever you see one. Some people go to the extreme, as in accosting the celebrity, telling them how much they love them and their work, and then hating them for not carrying a sharpie on them so they could sign off on their grocery receipt. Some even go to the other route, and stalk the person. There's even a website who commits a Google map application to the whole thing (Gawker Stalker).

I saw Taylor Negron in the park on Friday. Mr. Negron of "Nothing But Trouble," and most notably "The Aristocrats," fame. My buddy Alex and I especially liked him in latter movie. His play on the joke was told as if he were describing what heaven looks like to a first-year catechism class. The delicate touch in his voice while explaining the twisted act can only be described as genius. I love when someone explains something truly horrific in a soft and sweet voice. It's like putting a cherry on top of your shit.

The sighting of Mr. Negron came as a surprise. I was taking a park detour on my way home and there was the celebrity, sitting on a bench. His hair was pulled back in a pony tail and he had on those sunglasses that look like two Sacajawea coins. I caught his gaze for a moment, and then looked beyond. But most of that moment I was shoving my voice back down into my throat, prohibiting it from yelling out, "Taylor Negron!?" Also in that moment, I thought I would say something like, "I loved you in 'The Aristocrats," but that sounded lame and passe. Ultimately, I walked by him, confident in the fact that I had probably done the right thing. Maybe he would welcome the attention, or maybe he was just trying to sit on a park bench and enjoy the day. In situations like these I think the most you should do is give a tip of the cap, some sort of non-verbal recognition if you think they deserve it, that shows you know.

Or maybe I should have yelled out his name. My friend Gui and I were in a bar in Austin, Texas called Red Fez. We were standing by the bar holding our drinks and admiring the view on the dance floor when a man in his late twenties, who was all of 5'6", came waltzing in with an entourage of guys. From my vantage point, I thought some high society douche bag had tried to come all grandiose and shit. I looked over at Gui to get some non-verbal approval, and he just yells out, "That's Scott Caan!" Scott Caan looked toward Gui and kept walking. Every time I think of that episode, I can't help but double-over and laugh. We all want to do it, yell out the name of someone that we saw in the movies or television as soon as we see them in our own reality. Gui just didn't hold back.

check out the big brain on brad

 

i should've entitled this piece double f, but lo que sea. so here's the backstory; my spanish is poor and my comprehension of the metric system is worse. the other night, we had a ton of extra folks at dinner, some of whom were real deal mayans. anyway, some wise guy asked me how tall i was during coffee. what ensued was a clusterfuck of times tables, spanish vocabulary and broken yardsticks unraveling in my head. somehow the atomic weight of aluminum got in there too, but it was in grams. so i just probably made a face like "i know other stuff," just not my own height. i felt like a real dunce. luckily somebody's uncle asked me to stand up and estimated dos metros. i had a chance later to sit down with a sliderule and came up with about 2.01 meters. it looks like tío suave was right on the money. anyway, i started thinking...and now i'm going to try to not get so annoyed when people ask how tall i am because they could be asking me how many hands i measure in some ancient celtic dialect. then, when i pause in a fit of perplexity with a ten pack of isotoners draped over myself, some filthy medieval scribe will ride up on a dwarf pony and bury a two sided axe into my forehead. "Too slow lad," he'd lament. the point is i've been putting off learning the metric system and it almost cost me my life. do you think they have over the counter medication for what i've got?

Work Crushes

Work crushes are inevitable. You connect with that cute girl/guy over copies and coffee on a routine basis, knowing full well that he/she has a has a he/she back at home. Hell, you even make plans that you both know will never come to fruition because of the rule. Never date anyone from work. But maybe our friend Michelle took this rule too much to heart. By the way doesn't she look like this guy?


*a note to all those: This was written by Michelle, not me. Don't know how there could be confusion, or confusion of the use of he/she.*

from Blogher


Oh god, the pain, the anguish, the moist panties. My worst work crush happened on 9/11; everyone's in the office watching CNN not doing anything; we were in a federal building and couldn't leave and started talking. How sick is that? Suddenly you see someone in a stressful situation, and you're single, and you start thinking "hmm, I wonder."

And then, two days later, you come back from lunch and see him running past you on the path around the office park without a shirt and you are gone. The problem with office crushes is they go on, and on, and on, because you see them every friggin' day. My Mr. Gorgeous Abs was completely unattainable because I had just been promoted to Marketing Manager and I was marketing for the newest division for which he was a sales rep. He was nine years younger than me and he was just . . . beautiful. But if I had gone after him, I would have lost my job. So . . . there I am one Sunday working overtime on a project, and I'm in his office going through his desk trying to find out his address. How sad is that? I never did anything about it. Too chicken.

Ah, memories. Eventually he moved to another division on a different floor and not seeing him every day made the crush gradually fade away. He got laid off just before me and I haven't seen him since. Sigh .

Michelle Tackabery
Raleigh, NC