When I started writing this, I'm pretty sure that there was a little span of time in which I was the only one in the world actually awake. I'm up because I'm moving today. "Why put a new address on the same ol' loneliness," one might ask (especially if one happens to be Jason Molina)... The easy answer? Because the new address has an attached bathroom, guys.

But more to the point: I was talking to windedwings this morning, as I often do when I'm up early (or late, for that matter). So as I'm sending her this new treasure I've uncovered.

I have to thank theoriginal for first turning me to the name Final Fantasy. I mean... of course I've heard of the games. Never owned a PlayStation though. I leave that to my brother. Except I might drag out that old SNES and see what there is to see in FFIV when I get home this summer. Of course, I'll probably just mute the TV and let Owen Pallet's newest offering woo me instead.

So it's really as I write that I'm discovering the last little leg of the album. But man, this was a ride well-worth it. I recommend busting out the headphones and locking the door for this intimate BedSit Masterpiece. If you groove on albums with theatricality (think Your Blues or anything Stephin Merritt has ever touched), this will be way more up your alley than the comparably weak Has a Good Home. Hell, I openly prefer my album with a healthy dose of bombast. I mean... you did hear M83's Before the Dawn Heals Us Right? At least Pallet has a light-albeit-limp-wristed touch here.

That said, I made these two observations earlier:

1) In the best sense of the word, this is some of the gayest music I've ever heard in my entire life (think Morrissey, not Stefani).
2) There's no way anyone in the world is going to be able to commit a violent crime after May 19th, 2006.


[He Poos Clouds] by Final Fantasy

And again, this doesn't come out until the 19th of May, so yeah... that's the only album art you can find anywhere. I'll mail out an astro-brownie to anyone who can do me one better by Sunday. You can purchase a copy of this album through DotShop.

So when you want to feel like the only one awake in a sleeper's world, I recommend giving this album a spin. I'll leave the music heads (like myself) wondering how something so transcendant can come from an album with a title alluding to the passing of gas. In the post-ironic age, the only true irony is someone not being in on the joke.

you need my guidance; you need my time,
--Ryan

ATTENTION: this entry has been cross-posted to streethawk

The Seminal Concert Recording. Nothing is perhaps more divisive and critical in the realm of recorded music than the live show committed to tape. We see the best and the worst of the artists we love when we watch them perform. Of course, performance is a touch-stone here; it's often a question of 'open studio session' vs. 'actual performer performance'. But more often than not, the documents that stand the test of time often do so for a specific reason.

Bob Dylan's Royal Albert Hall: 1966
Grateful Dead's Filmore East: 1970
The Who's Live at Leeds: 1970

In a recent interview, Dan made a reference to a clause he was trying to work into his contract with the good people at Merge Records. The basic provisions of this clause stipulate that he would not have to tour in support of his music anymore. What his exact reasons are, one can only guess. He has only made passing references to the long, arduous trips and the stressful nights playing his music in front of people. From all accounts I've heard, he kept silent throughout the set and turned his back to the audience when he was tuning or having a drink.

Neil Young's Time Fades Away: 1973
Little Feat's Waiting for Columbus
Spiritualized®'s Fucked Up Inside: 1993

Enter the bootleg. The ultimate fandom flagship. Now as a professed Dylan and Beatles nut, I've spent a considerable amount of time talking about the nature of bootlegging. But so far, my favorite band, Destroyer (natch) has only been recorded live in less-than-passable fidelity. I do treasure my copy of the set at the Mercury Lounge (05/09/04), but that's been the only full set that has surfaced so far. WFMU's Rhubarb Cake, the Just Concerts set, the Thunderbird Radio Hell set, and the CBC Radio 3 sessions are all wonderful... but incomplete.

The set recorded at the Cat's Cradle went down under some special circumstances. According to a report on the show at NYC's Avalon by "my eyes, ears, lungs, and liver in the Big Apple," eye_ball_kid, Magnolia Electric Co. played second. Only two nights later, Jason Molina plays the first set after opening act Birds of Avalon and calls it a night after only five-or-so songs. He (and later, his bandmates) chalked it up to him being under the weather (a recurring theme lately in the show-circuit). And I've never ever wished any harm upon the man behind Songs: Ohia, but all this meant that Destroyer played the dominating set with a well-rounded 13 songs. Add all this up with an incredibly receptive crowd in Chapel Hill that Thursday night. While talking with Nicolas Bragg after the show, he made mention to me that "us guys" were "insane". When I asked him to explain, he said he'd never seen a crowd singing along like we were.

Jeff Mangum's Live at Jittery Joe's; 2001
Songs: Ohia's Mi Sei Apparso Come Un Fantasma: 2000
The Psychic Paramount's Franco-Italian Tour: 2002
Destroyer's Cat's Cradle: 2006

Not that much of a stretch is it?

Just listen to the live recording from The Cat's Cradle with a technical ear. Low crowd noise during the actual songs? Professional mix-levels for all five instruments? Crisp pickup of Bejar's vocals? Unbelievable acoustics to have come from a blackbox club? And now listen to the music itself: The re-workings are undeniably brilliant. Bejar and Co. sound like a fucking BAND, and if you don't believe me, listen to the treatment of old favorites like "Certain Things You Ought to Know", "It's Gonna Take an Airplane", "Streethawk II", and, to a lesser degree, "Modern Painters"... Just incredible.

So among die-hard Destroyer fans, if events do indeed transpire like they're looking to, we have one amazing live set at near-CD-quality audio. I know I'll treasure my copy as a testament to the presence that Dan Bejar brings to the stage, whether or not he ever actually opened his eyes throughout the entire show. This is going to be a gem for all of us for a long time.

Thank you so much to everyone involved in getting this out into the community.
--Ryan

Well, it's been a week since that Destroyer show, and I still haven't posted anything, but when I do, you're going to get:

a) The Review
b) Pictures
c) The Entire Downloadable Concert

hell yes?

Until then, I'll leave you with this thought. The two bands that have been dominating my greymatter this week have been Talking Heads and XTC. There's some similarities, sure. But these stop at the same point at which the David Bowie::Scott Walker comparisons stop. I might have made a stab at one of you earlier about the 'Heads taking a back seat to XTC, but... well, it's just to hard to call. I'm probably, at heart, more of an XTC fan and this little street-rocking anthem is a decent example of XTC's finest fist-pumping aspects. Stick around and I'm sure I'll offer up some more tabs of X as the weeks roll on.

It's worth noting the definition of "Ball and Chain" in our modern world: the first thing that comes to mind is the image of a relationship and, more to the point, a marriage. But there's no supporting metaphors for this songs' also-mentioned "diggers and the tower cranes..." It's a big cry for help at first as Colin Moulding yelps "SAVE US FROM THE BALL AND CHAIN!" But you hear Terry Chambers banging the living hell out of his drums and it's obviously an anthem for those of us kind of fed up with being fucked by the oppression of capitalist imagery. Too bad South Carolina's so anti-union. How great of a theme song would this be?

This is waaaaay pre-Skylarking XTC, but you're just going to love it.


"Ball and Chain" by XTC from English Settlement

helter skelter,
--Ryan

I dig on how my mind works. Well, not only my mind, but rather "the mind" in general. It fascinates me to no end that we can walk around with a lump of tissue behind our eyeballs that has a direct impact on everything we do, see, touch, taste, smell, think, say, etc. ad infinitum. It touches every observable (and many unobservable) parts of our lives, and yet what we know about it amounts to next-to-nothing compared to what we know about other fields.

Imagine me asking myself why I'd go through the trouble of writing up these little reviews. Don't think I don't do it. But when i'm pouring my heart out into a bucket full of 0's and 1's, the results can get spotty at best... (see also: my last two entries w/no comments). So my thinking leads me in a few directions at this point: either people don't know what to think or say about it, or they're just being polite. The third option is that they don't care, but... well...

This logic-centric dialogue came to an abrupt standstill when the second track off Beth Gibbons & Rustin' Man's Out of Season ebbed out of my speakers. I was thrown back to 1969 as I listened to what amounted to Joni Mitchell psychically channelling the spirit of Billie Holiday. Listening to "Tom the Model" really put things in perspective for me. I want to know how this slipped past me when it was released in 2002. The fact that this was a missed gem and other crap still got through really bothers me.

At any rate, checking out this song will probably make your night. Especially if you've someone to make it with.


"Tom the Model" by Beth Gibbons & Rustin' Man from [Out of Season]

good night,
--Ryan

Last night, Mr. Ted Leo played Charlotte NC's Tremont Music Hall.

Kaitlin and I hopped in the car with that in mind the other day, all the while revisiting our favorite Ted Leo moments. She had brought along her copy of Chisel's Set You Free to get it signed. I couldn't help smiling... it was one of the first CDs I ever gave her. For the record, I also mentioned how disappointed I'd be if Ted didn't end his set with "Walking To Do". I went as far as to bet her an ice cream sundae on the fact that he'd almost half to (c'mon... it's the perfect close-out song).

There were two opening acts, Les Aus and Duke Spirit. Duke Spirit, who played the second and longer of the opening sets. It was also kind of underwhelming. They all looked very British (in that hipster Art Brut kind of way... like, i dug it, i mean), but their songs seemed not to have very much to them. What they're doing sounds a bit too much like the over-mined R.E.M.-revival sound.

Les Aus:
Les Aus, though... now that's a different story. Nobody had really gotten to the club yet, and Kaitlin and I were just standing there in front of the stage talking. When Kaitlin caught a glimpse of the members, I made a throwaway comment about opening acts always being sort of ho-hum no matter what the case. But promptly at 8pm EST, Arnaul Sala (guitar, etc.) and Dalmau Boada (drums) walked out and broke my legs in order to better shove both my sorry feet deep, deep into my blasphemous mouth.

If I may digress slightly... When you watch the Space Shuttle lift off in person, they put you on a platform three miles away across the marshlands of the Florida Everglades. When you hear the countdown reach "two... one... ignition." there is a welder's flame light that fills your eyes immediately, cutting through the billowing towers of white smoke surrounding the shuttle itself. Up to this point, all you can hear is the chirping of birds and the croak of frogs. And three-or-so seconds is long enough for the average person to go... "well, that's awfully quie---" before being almost leveled by the sheer force of the sound that hits them after that. And let me tell you something: when you're hit with it, the only thing you can do is laugh the purest laugh you've ever laughed in your life. Laughter not at a joke, or as a self-aware gesture... but as a totally instinctual and beautiful response because it's all you can do.

Boada remained quiet throughout, leaving the mostly-Spanish-speaking Sala to speak with the crowd. He smiled shyly, nodding, and expressing how nice it was to be with us tonight... and all sorts of adorable stuff like that. But then came that sound...

If Iggy Pop ever picked up the Black Mountain with his left hand and Lightning Bolt in his right (see how mythic this sounds already?!) and then smashed them together... that's kind of what Les Aus sound like, except throw in a dash of unashamed experimentation and Sala's obvious reverence for the sounds that can come out of a guitar.

They played first a song called "Haranna Hanné" which opens with a winding, springing psychedelic solo with frantic drums nipping at its heels. But their strongest "song" song might've been "El Guardià", which thunders out with a pummeling drum sound and a ferocious guitar, both churning away for the first twenty seconds until both the instruments come to a halt and both Boada and Sala throw their heads back and yelp rhythmically (think tribal chants). Fantastic... and it calls to mind the absolute raw ferocity of Akron/Family's "Raising the Sparks", one of this year's high points. Then it dives right back in to the pounding rhythm.

The song they closed with was almost indescribable, and was the highlight of their set. After trancing out to a wickedly adept psychedelic solo, Sala drops to his knees as Boada launched into an intricately-coreographed drum-dance sequence. Sala pulls a recorder (yeah... recorder) out of his gig bag. As he blows furiously into it, he lays his guitar down flat on the stage and begins to play it like a zither. Then, he takes the recorder apart, blowing through the mouthpiece and using the rest of it as a slide, taking it up and down the neck of the guitar. Then, he takes the hanging E string and scrapes it across the strings. And would believe the sound was like Syd Barrett and Joey Ramone shooting smack into their eyeballs under a liquid acid waterfall?


"El Guardià" by Lex Aus from [Haranna Hanné]

To my surprise, Kaitlin liked it as much as I did. Rest assured, there's a care package full of Lightning Bolt CDs on its way to her mailbox. The girl's got good taste, though... I mean, she is dating me after all... heh.

Ted Leo, Rx./Pharmacists:
So, now down to the opening act, which probably needs less discussion. The room was jam-packed by this point (what the hell was I ever worried about?) As you can tell by the setlist (nabbed from 'neath one of Lerner's pedals), Ted is a total crowd-pleaser. He hearkened at least as far back as The Tyranny of Distance, playing the one song I was willing to shout a request for as the first one, and played all the way up through his more-recent Shake the Sheets. He also tossed in two new tracks. M.I.A. were covers of any kind (even though I really hoped for some Pogues or at least Split Enz action).

Ted's voice sounded a wreck and you could tell the audience felt bad for him. He told us that he'd lost his voice just a show or two ago and that this was the best he could do. So we cheered, of course, and he said that he was a singer first and a guitarist second with his tongue planted firmly in his cheek. During a break in the set, as he was away from the mic getting some water, I yelled "St. John The Divine!!". Ted just laughed and, without skipping a beat, said "wish i knew the man so he could bless... this chest..."

His energy was at once mesmerizing and infectious. When I'm his age, I hope I have half the gusto he has. He danced and thrashed around the stage like it was the first show of his tour. He closed the written set with "Biomusicology", but came back out for an encore when no one stopped cheering wildly. Coming back on by himself, he started the opening chords of "Timorous Me" (swoooooon!) and was faithfully joined by the Pharmacists for the rest of the song before it turned into a one-two punch: that's when he whipped out "Walking to Do" and everyone sang along at the top of their lungs.

After everyone cleared out, I went up to the stage and he signed my setlist and Kaitlin's Chisel CD (he wrote "To Kaitlin... OLD SKOOL!!! (heart)-TL). I told him how exciting his split EP with Blueline Medic was and he laughed and said that was the nicest thing he'd heard all night. What a truly nice man he is. It's true what's said about him. My only regret is not bringing vegan cookies for him. Or maybe some Ricola.


check it, bitches

Rocking in the Arguably-Free World,
--Ryan

P.S. The sundae was delicious.

( More Fun with You Can't Fool Me Dennis )


"Soluble in Air" by Mystery Jets from [Making Dens]

bathing in water vapour,
--Ryan

I'm a busy man.

I'm going to give that a minute to settle, okay?

So yes, busy man... busy man. When I'm not working on my education or other passions, music is what I fucking do. Playing and listening, listening and playing and absorbing and listening and just letting it enrich my life. I don't have time to pander about something like music, because as soon as I wake up, and I don't mean "after two minutes of shuffling around trying to find pants"... Fuck no. I mean the first thing I do after wiping the goddamn sleep out of my eye is to turn my music on, and turn it up. Fuckloud.

I got into an argument with my roommates, both artists, the other day. The question was one of art. After smoking much cheeba, i chimed in with a Bill Hicksian assessment on the nature of pornography (since we were talking about it), noting that our lovely government's definition of pornography was something without any artistic value that creates sexual thought. I merely mentioned that this definition applies to, what else too? Commercials.

They wouldn't fucking hear it! Weird...

My argument is: there is a distinct difference between there being "an art to" something and that thing being actual art.

Again we pause to ponder these things quietly in our hearts.

Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you: Commercials draw from artistic touchpoints. The people who create commercials are not artists. They are whores to the almighty fucking dollar, sliding up and down on the cock of Satan himself with every piece of shit they toss into the LANDFILL that has become our CULTURE. I have no sympathy for someone who thinks "You know... I'm just not rich enough..."

Excuse me, but do any of you think for a second someone like Sarah Jessica Parker (not really calling her an artist, but...) needs any more fucking money? No, no, no, no, no, no, gofuckyourselves.

My point is, life is to short for shitty music. Honestly. I'm not trying to be a snob about it or anything (I was singing "(I Just Died) In Your Arms Tonight" in the car on the way back to my apartment today...), but I'm dead serious when I say, I've reached a point where I can't be troubled to listen to insincere charadists making half-attempts at art (yeah, I just coined a term. from now on, it's "charadists" with one of those little r-in-a-circle things, dig?). But back on topic, if you make music even though you don't have to, you're wasting my time, honest-to-god. I mean... would you really invest with a bank that only "kind of banked on the weekends when they felt like it"? But if you bleed music when you pop your B string and it slices a little gash under your right eye, I might be able to find a moment of my day to hear what you've got to say.


"You Can't Fool Me, Dennis" by Mystery Jets from [Making Dens]

It's hard to make a good first impression. Everything's working against a band before that first song comes shuttling through my speakers. I have things on my mind, and as much "critical listening" as I do, giving a brand new band my undivided attention can be not only difficult, but risky. What I've posted today is the second-track-yet-first-song of one of the shining moments of 2006 you haven't heard about yet. That said, when Mystery Jets' debut album, Making Dens drops sometime mid-summer, you better bet your ass it's going to make waves. Just remember where you heard it first, kids. Don't read anything about them first. Hell, I sure didn't and just look at the fucking grin on my face!

Peace be with you,
--Ryan

P.S. Liberating line of the year: "you can do anything you want... as long as it makes sense" -- mystery jets, "you can't fool me, dennis".

I wouldn't have admitted it this summer, I don't think... but there's been a lot of time in between then and now, and there's been an ASSSSSSSLOAD of stuff that's changed the way I feel about so many things, but:

My Art Brut can beat up your Bloc Party.

No contest, guys. No fucking contest. After almost half a year, there's no question in my mind now. Sorry I left these guys off my year-end list. Jesus, I'm loving these debuts that are knocking my socks off lately. The truth is, Bang Bang Rock & Roll made me laugh out loud many, many times, and Bloc Party just takes themselves way too seriously. LIGHTEN UP! Guys... you appear to be in mid-20's and your "sex song" has emotional depth like my little brother wrote it, but STILL it manages to depress me!

I, Ryan Collins, have never, ever, ever, ever, EVER had depressing sex. I didn't know there was such a thing before listening to "Banquet". Sounds like someone's never fucked to The Stooges' RAW POWER. Yeah, that's right, i'm talking to you, Kele Okereke... your (albeit) pretty face is going to hell.


boo fucking hoo, you bastards

Don't get me wrong, I think Bloc Party has some of the most technically-proficient sounding stuff I've heard in years. But at the end of the day, that's just not enough. Hell, Moot the Goddamn Hopple was technically proficient. And uh... isn't that always one of the first things people say about The Mars Volta? Whoa! Hitting a little close to home now? Yeah, you like the Mars Volta, don't you? Fuck you, you pretentious, joyless pieces of shit.

I kid, of course.

But... not really.

I have no qualms in quoting Bill Hicks (i miss him so much right now) by saying that once you've done a commercial, you are FOREVER off the Artistic Roll Call. And if anyone mentions Nick Drake's name in this respect, I will be showing up at your house to introduce Mr. Ice Pick to Mr. and Mrs. Achilles Tendon. Yeah, I care a lot.

So why is Ryan dragging a debate like this out after half a year? Exhibit A:


"Good Weekend" by Art Brut from [Bang Bang Rock & Roll]

Bands like Interpol and I Love You But I've Chosen Darkness are really chapping my ass right now. The connection between the two, if you look is, again, the seriousness. What the fuck? What the fuck? Why are you taking yourselves so seriously??? I love music more than anyone I know (yeah, I'll debate that too) but I've just reached this point where I hear Explosions In the Sky and it just makes me want to puke all over someone's head.

Okay, okay... I'm going to go take a shower and, when I get out, I'm going to play my guitar for awhile. And you know what? I'm going to fucking smile while I play, motherfuckers.

Just look at my icon and tell me I'm not right.
--Ryan


P.S. I don't consider it a conflict of interest to like both Art Brut and The Velvet Underground. I don't even think that's what they're talking about in "Bang Bang Rock & Roll" (the song). I think what they're talking about is when bands (like the goddamn Strokes) use the (then-revolutionary) sounds of the Velvet Underground to make modern-but-mediocre music. Word.

A few of you might remember me posting about ted leo two summers ago for the first time. If you've been wondering what he's been up to, check out this update of his old track from the Balgeary... [EP] which is, in turn, an update of a Split Enz song. Whew... Be careful, though... it's scalding hot.


"Six Months in a Leaky Boat" by Ted Leo, Rx/Pharmacists from [Ted Leo/Blueline Medics Split [EP]]

UPDATE: This part of my post will now stand as an OPEN CHALLENGE to eye_ball_kid to publicly deny the fact that this rocks his rocks off. Behold the might of the public forum to spread good taste and judgment unto all.

My headphones broke, but I'm buying some new ones. Which is good, because new albums like Bitter Tea (The Fiery Furnaces) and At War with the Mystics (The Flaming Lips) are just kicking my ass all over the place. Is it just me, or does it seem like everybody's gotten really psychedelic this year? 2006 is a good year for music. Here's my pre-year list as a prediction:

15. The Greatest by Cat Power
14. The Hardest Way to Make an Easy Living by The Streets
13. The Life Pursuit by Belle & Sebastian
12. [New Album] by Linda Perhacs
11. At War with the Mystics by The Flaming Lips
10. Just Like the Fambly Cat by Grandaddy
9. Everything All the Time by Band of Horses
8. Fox Confessor Brings the Flood by Neko Case
7. Making Dens by Mystery Jets
6. Return To the Sea by Islands
5. You In Reverse by Built to Spill
4. Drum's Not Dead by Lirars
3. Silent Shout by The Knife
2. [New Album] by Radiohead
1. Bitter Tea by The Fiery Furnaces
1. Destroyer's Rubies by Destroyer

I guess you can tell that any year that has a Destroyer release is one that sees Dan Bejar at the top of my list. But Bitter Tea is seriously intense in the way that M83's Before the Dawn Heals Us and Lightning Bolt's Wonderful Rainbow. Damn.


"Teen Angst" by M83 from [Before the Dawn Heals Us]

I'm getting a lot down deeper into the synthier stuff this time around. Your Blues turns out to be my number one audio security-blanket. The Knife's new album is tantamount to Kid A in my humble opinion, and that's coming from someone who reads Dead Air Space daily and sleeps under a "Fitter, Happier..." poster. Seriously that good.

I said, "Kiss me, you're beautiful..
These are truly the last days"
--Ryan

I have no problem admitting when a band is a guilty pleasure. It's not that hard to notice, come to think about it. I won't outright sing along to them if I'm in public, but sometimes, late at night, you can hear it: someone in the very back of the apartment singing loudly to the blarings of "My Old School" by Steely Dan. That's me. Steely Dan is my #1 guilty pleasure band, and you can tell anybody you want. I'm just dumbstruck by the smirking Bolanesque strut taken up by these guys. It's just too much.

But often, I like too much. Taking a look at the "Top 20" lists I've made over the past, say, three years, there's often an overwhelming amount of artificial sound. The gorgeous, bombastic, and theatrical Your Blues made it big in 2004 for me (and is still a hang-up/touchpoint even now). This year it was M83's theatrical, bombastic, and gorgeous Before the Dawn Heals Us. Very strange.

But one band that has inadvertently slid back and forth (much to my dismay) between good standing and guilty pleasure has been Piano Magic. I'll go ahead and say it: for all their shortcomings, I love Piano Magic. They "do it" for me like other bands should but don't, right?

Well, after mis-step and mis-step away from the solidly brilliant Low Birth Weight and the less-critically-aclaimed but still-personally-cherished The Troubled Sleep of Piano Magic, I've finally caught up with Glenn Johnson again with 2005's Disaffected. Turns out I was too disaffected to catch it the first time. But as you'll here from listening to this track, it's worth going back and listening to. Honestly.


"Love & Music" by Piano Magic from [Disaffected]

That's kind of like my new anthem now, actually. In a really dorky, obvious way.

Okay...

So, if you don't here from me for a while this weekend, it's because I'm going to be really, really, really busy. Got it?

Much love,
--Ryan