Einging alspilkur groobin takoodan biflorglorenborgi niffle

They say that seeing a show at Red Rocks is something that one must do if one lives in Colorado. I live in Colorado, so I did this. Sigur Ros (currently my favorite band, recently nudging Beirut out of that position) played there last night, and it was outstanding. 

A friend and I took 93 south from Boulder all the way to Red Rocks. It is an astoundingly pretty drive. Almost too much for a flatlander like me. Peaks to my right, big rocks to my left. Steep drops, long hills... It was grand. The whole place is built into this natural amphitheatre thing, and it's outside, too, which is nice. Parachutes opened the show, and they were pretty cool. It was like the kid version of Sigur Ros. They sat down on the stage at one point. I did not understand this.

But then THEY came on. They played a bunch of my faves like Heysatan, Inni mer singur vitleysyngur, Ny batteri, Vid spilum endalaust, and a whole slew of other good things. At times, it was astounding how much sound was coming out of such skinny boys. I watched the lights of the Front Range Metroplex sparkle behind them and wondered what it would look like if the world ended like that, with some unbelievably thick Icelandic rock music surrounding me.

I can't imagine what they would sound like if Jonsi was singing in English.

1, 2, 3, 4

I quite accidentally (sort of) ended up at a Feist concert tonight. It was at the Fillmore on Colfax, which is a pretty cool joint. It's in my neighborhood, so I should have probably seen at least one show by now. I've lived here long enough, eh?

The opening act was the Golden Dogs, a Toronto grouping of happy. Their keyboardist reminded me much of a very old friend. They're worth checking out, even thought they are from Canada, read: the Enemy.

But then again, Leslie Feist is Canadian, too, so it's all good.



The show was quite enjoyable, really. She had these two women in the back doing little shadow games on a projector. They had little bits of colored glass and smeary stuff and branches. It really added to the more cathartic elements of the show. If you've never seen her sing, she moves her face around quite a bit, going wide in the mouth and then ducking away from the mic for some reason. All in all, it was a grand show, with grand friends.

My only guilt comes from the fact that I kept pretending that she was Regina Spektor.

Je Recueille de Beaux Objets

Just watched The Science of Sleep.

Yeah, it was a bit difficult to work through, to be honest, but it was still one of those perfectly strangely wonderfully beautiful films that I like so well.

It occurs to me that a lot of my "art life" has been spent adoring films like this, or music like Edith Piaf, Bessie Smith and Cinematic Orchestra, or sculpture like Claudel's "Waltz" and paintings like Wyeth's "Christine's World." I suppose that these sorts of things inspire the quickest and deepest emotional responses; it's that odd love/sad thing that happens. Billie Holiday makes me want to climb a tree and cry while doing it. There must be a name for that emotion.

Let's call it "cry" + "love" = CROVE. Billie Holiday's music is crovely.

Sweet.

Emelius Browne's College of Witchcraft pt. 2

Seriously, the accordion work in that song is great. Call it a squeezebox, call it a concertina or a flutina, but the thing has got a real sound to it, doesn't it?

YEAH! ACCORDION!

Emelius Browne's College of Witchcraft

I was meandering my way through London a few years ago and had the great fortune of visiting a place that had up until then only existed in my head and on VHS. Bedknobs and Broomsticks, the 1971 Disney musical based on Mary Norton's book, had been an oft-viewed part of my childhood. It had just the right mix of fantasy (in the form of animated suits of armor) and historical something-or-other (in the form of a foiled Nazi invasion of England). I really dug watching it.

The characters in the film find themselves on London's Portobello Road, searching for magical books. I'm not sure why that's italicized; it just seemed right. Portobello Road is a huge antique market, with all kinds of cool stuff to be had. While there, I bought my mom some cool old-as-hell spinning bobbins. The Portobello Road of Bedknobs and Broomsticks was a far more fantastic place than the English flea market that I encountered, but it was rewarding nonetheless. Fabulous stuff, really.




I leave you with the text of the song and dance number:

"Portobello Road" - Robert and Richard Sherman

Portobello road, Portobello road
Street where the riches of ages are stowed.
Anything and everything a chap can unload
Is sold off the barrow in Portobello road.
You'll find what you want in the Portobello road.

Rare alabaster? Genuine plaster!
A filigreed samovar owned by the czars.
A pen used by Shelley? A new Boticelli?
The snipper that clipped old King Edward's cigars?

"Made in Hong Kong? Two bob a dozen, would you say?"

Waterford Crystals? Napoleon's pistols?
Society heirlooms with genuine gems!
Rembrandts! El Greco's! Toulouse-Letrec'os!
Painted last week on the banks of the Thames!

Portobello road, Portobello road!
Street where the riches of ages are stowed
Anything and everything a chap can unload
Is sold off the barrow in Portobello road.
You'll meet all your chums in the Portobello road

There's pure inspiration in every creation.
No cheap imitations, not here in me store.
With garments as such as was owned by a Duchess.
Just once at some royal occasion of yore.

In Portobello Road, Portobello Road
The fancies and fineries of ages are showed.
A lady will always feel dressed a la mode
In frillies she finds in the Portobello road.

"Burke's Peerage;" "The Bride Book;" "The Fishmonger's Guidebook;"
A Victorian novel, "The Unwanted Son;"
"The History of Potting", "The Yearbook of Yachting,"
The leather bound "Life of Attila the Hun."

Portobello Road, Portobello Road
Street where the riches of ages are stowed
Artifacts to glorify our regal abode
Are hidden in the flotsam in Portobello Road
You'll find what you want in the Portobello Road

Tokens and treasures, yesterday's pleasures
Cheap imitations of heirlooms of old
Dented and tarnished, scarred and unvarnished
In old Portobello they're bought and they're sold

Portobello Road, Portobello Road
Street where the riches of ages are stowed
Artifacts to glorify our regal abode
Are hidden in the flotsam in Portobello road.
You'll find what you want in the Portobello Road

Since They Wanna Know

In case it hasn't been gazed upon: http://www.breakaleg.tv/video/2007/7/25/the-pilot-part-1.html - Yes, it's that good, and it just gets better.

It occurred to me that I should really be listening to more rap. This is, of course, difficult given the recent loss of the ENTIRE COLLECTION of my music. I just happened to hear a few tracks from Obie Trice's last CD, and it reminded me of just how good he might be. Of course, Eminem tends to attract people like that to him.

I have a thing for underground hip-hop stuff like Bus Driver and many of the Chicago groups, but even mainstream acts tend to surprise. Take Clipse, for instance. "Hell Hath No Fury" was a tour-de-force, and the fact that I heard NPR reviewing it favorably only lends credence to the abilities of Pusha-T and Malice. I present "Ain't Cha," which besides making me want to rock back and forth in my seat, also contains this wondrous first verse:

Rugers spare I drapes, baking pies, baking cake
Hustling them E's and that C's and that H
While you probably talking frantic on the tape
N***az in the hood ain't tryna to hear "Man it was a mistake"
To call you a bitch, not a bandit at ya wake
Epitaph reading how much damage you could take
While I'm on the boat with ya bitch, salmon on the plate
I know why you liked her, the head it was great
Loving these bezels sets, change with no space
86 karats, you know how much digging in the planet this could take?
Patent leather BAPEs...Uh, uh! Closet like planet of the BAPE!
Monkey see, monkey do, monkeys following in place
Like I'm living in an episode of Planet of the Apes
You're watching the evolution of one of rap's greats
You n***az tryna take my place? Neva happen...

Naturally, some of this might not be exactly as it was meant to be seen, but these lyrics-sets are often heard rather than straight from the group. If you look closely, you can see what I'm talking about. Pusha-T actually raps from the end of the line. And it's all about the long a sound, of course, but I point special attention to the line about digging. Wow.

Anywho, I'm sure that this track (just like every Clipse song) has something to do with hustling coke. But seriously, this is some good stuff. I end this with a little bit of one of my faves, who managed to absolutely slay one of my other faves on his own track:

Since I'm in a position to talk to these kids and they listen
I ain't no politician but I'll kick it with 'em a minute
Cause see they call me a menace; and if the shoe fits I'll wear it
But if it don't, then y'all'll swallow the truth grin and bear it
Now who's these king of these rude ludicrous lucrative lyrics
Who could inherit the title, put the youth in hysterics
Usin his music to steer it, sharin his views and his merits
But there's a huge interference - they're sayin you shouldn't hear it
Maybe it's hatred I spew, maybe it's food for the spirit
Maybe it's beautiful music I made for you to just cherish
But I'm debated disputed hated and viewed in America
as a motherfuckin drug addict - like you didn't experiment?
Now now, that's when you start to stare at who's in the mirror
and see yourself as a kid again, and you get embarrased
And I got nothin to do but make you look stupid as parents
You fuckin do-gooders - too bad you couldn't do good at marriage!
(Ha ha!) And do you have any clue what I had to do to get here I don't
think you do so stay tuned and keep your ears glued to the stereo
Cause here we go - he's {*Jigga joint Jigga-chk-Jigga*}
And I'm the sinister, Mr. Kiss-My-Ass it's just a RENEGADE!