Strangeways Here We Come

The internet is a very strange animal. You can obtain virtually anything your heart desires. Soap, movies, macrame, old toys, alligator boots, bags, books, music, blah blah blah. You get the idea. What many people seem to forget or completely turn their nose up at, is finding friendship online. There’s such a stigma attached to it. I’m sure some of you are getting all goose-bumpy just thinking about it.

But with wide-spread acceptance of what the “professionals” like to call Social Networking, it’s much more acceptable to form relationships online, be they for business, friendship or romantic. Which leads me to my point of this posting. Faster than usual I might add. Look at me, I’m growing. A friend of mine (who I initially met online) has decided to fly in the face of danger and start a record label. I think when he started this venture he had a coif Samson would have died for. Well, everything has a price.

Now we’ve come to the heart of the matter. Some of you may have seen through my ruse. Yes, it’s true. This post is nothing but a shameless plug. Even I’m not above such a thing, but since I strongly believe in what he’s trying to accomplish, I will always stand on the street corner in my best leather skirt and heels.

So without any more jawing from me I give you:


On Another Note Presents:  LAUNCH PARTY!!!!!


……………… the image……………….

I’d still pimp this, even if I didn’t design the poster. 😉
Hope to see you all there!!!


M83 Mezzanine, San Francisco

For starters; I must apologize for the lack of updates lately. I’ve been a bit busy as of late. Besides, I haven’t really had anything to write about. I’m sure my 3 faithful readers will understand.

So…M83. Caught the show last night at Mezzanine in San Francisco. I really don’t have too much time to blather on about the gig since I’m writing this post when I should be working. So I’ll try to sum it up as quickly as possible with little or no filler for my anti-rambling readers. 😛

  • Amazing sound
  • Morgan Kibby is mesmerizing
  • Great atmosphere
  • Eclectic mix of people
  • The band was flawless
  • Lots of head bobbing and bouncing was the standard
  • Met some great people (thank you Michele)

Sitting here in my office, dead tired from lack of sleep, I can honestly say it was well worth losing a few extra hours of time with Mr. Sandman. Even after noticing that a few of my favorite tunes weren’t in the set list,  it was still a great show. Completely fueled by the band’s genuine desire to entertain. When the last notes slowly wafted up into the rafters, it was very apparent they succeeded.

Constant reminder

Certain songs and/or albums when listened to, immediately convey a place, a feeling, a time or more specifically a person.  These are just a few songs that fit into that category for me. I’ll leave it up to you to guess which selection they should be filed under.

  • The Raveonettes – Uncertain Times
  • Yaz – Only You
  • XTC – That Wave
  • Aztec Camera – Oblivious
  • Slowdive – Option One
  • Smiths – Hand In Glove
  • Stranglers – Golden Brown
  • Secret Machines – First Wave Intact
  • Of Montreal – It’s Just So
  • Talk Talk – I Believe In You
  • BoB Marley – Three Little Birds
  • Love & Rockets – Saudade
  • Kate Bush – Aerial
  • Peter Murphy – The Sweetest Drop
  • Bjork – Cocoon

I suppose I should end here. I could easily map out my entire life via song, but the aforementioned are what’s been on a constant loop in my mind’s music player lately.

Tune in tomorrow for Five By Five Part 2.


This is what I was talking about.

From the Round File Pt. 1

From time to time my mind belches out random musings that don’t really have a home in terms of an actual blog. Quick snippets that don’t really belong anywhere, save for the refuse pile. This happens more often than I care to admit and could be a very big reason why I don’t post here as often as I should. Who wants to read a blog overflowing with nothing but bullet points anyway?

But they have to go somewhere, these thoughts. So why not spew them all over this page in an unorganized, smelly mess? That sounds like fun, doesn’t it? Besides, then LG won’t have to be the only one forced to suffer the constant barrage of these mental hiccups. So for now, and possibly in the future I shall stick my proverbial finger down my throat and hoark up whatever decides to stick to the page. The remaining bits shall be hosed down by my blog servant Grog.

  • No matter what show you attend, you will ALWAYS spot someone wearing a Misfits t-shirt.
  • Interpol, Coldplay and Bloc Party suffer from S.T.W.T.S syndrome (Shot the wad too soon)
  • I don’t care about your bling, bitches, vehicles or paper. Most of which are rented anyway.
  • There is only one Elvis and his name is Costello.
  • You’re not edgy if you enter the pit at a Dave Matthews show.
  • PBR is not the hip ironic gig beer. It’s just damned disgusting.
  • Karen O should send residual checks to Siouxsie Sioux.
  • The RIAA is the devil.
  • Ditto for Corey Hart.
  • It’s a good assumption that the worst song on the album will ultimately be the first single.
  • Movie stars should not form bands.
  • Bands should not be movie stars.
  • The term mosh makes me cringe.
  • Rave pants are very funny.
  • Cell phones have replaced lighters at shows.
  • Please MTV, for the love of all that is holy…stop. Stop right now!
  • Kill your radio
  • If Metallica and Madonna can get into the RnR Hall, there’s still hope for Menudo.
  • Lars Ulrich is a tool.
  • is just as annoying as it is addicting.
  • Rolling Stone is now shite.
  • Fergie is really a transexual who used to be named Francis.
  • There should be an 80’s based snyth band called Jelly Shoes.

Of course I could go on and on for days, but seeing as how I’m banging this out at my place of employment, I suppose I should actually do something remotely resembling work.

Now get out!

Love In Itself

I overheard a conversation at work a few weeks ago that went a little something like this:

Worker A: have you heard the new *insert forgettable band name here* on the radio?
Worker B: Oh yeah, it’s really good. It reminds of that American Idol singer.
Worker A: yeah. Oh speaking of American Idol…

This is right around the moment in which I passed out from sheer boredom and annoyance. Can one actually pass out from annoyance? I should really look into that. When I finally came round amidst a chorus of co-workers mumbling to each other “I told you he was weird”, my mind started wandering. I know all three of you are sitting on pins and needles asking yourselves what the hell I’m rambling about. Well, I’m here to tell you. There’s something else. Two paragraphs in and I’m already tossing out a Prince reference. God help me.

In all seriousness (be forewarned, for I’m not sure how long this will last) that minor exchange eventually led me to the topic of friendship.  Not in a hey-you’re-my-co-worker-and-considering-we-spend-so-much-time-together-we-may-as-well-make-the-best-of-it sort of way, but more specifically friendships forged with music as the foundation. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against the fellow office dwellers in question, but there’s something internal, some common bond I will never share with them. They will never appreciate the sheer overwhelming joy of Lisa Gerrard, or the dirty yet smoothly gutteral sounds of Morphine.

Now before you start calling me an elitist snob (I’m looking in your direction Jenocidal), I do have friends that don’t exactly share my musical tastes, let alone my passion for it. That doesn’t mean we’re not friends, but admittedly I seem to be much closer to people in my life who, for lack of a better term, “get it”. It’s hard to explain save for using words like feeling or emotional to describe what music does to the lucky listeners whose brains or souls are wired in that specific manner without sounding like a complete douche, but oh well what can you do? It obviously goes much deeper than that. I am a firm believer that there are two types of people when it comes to listening and enjoying music. Some people can enjoy it on a singular level and go about the business of existence without a second thought. Personally I think this is why radio exists to this day. Independent radio notwithstanding. Not that there’s anything thing wrong with that. Then there are the others who devour music. These are the individuals that let the music envelop them willingly. Seeing music as a conduit to some universal feeling and understanding that can only be completely conveyed when presented in this medium. Far less common of course, but far more of you out there than I originally expected. The internet has helped in that capacity. Now of course you can break those two groups down into a thousand subcategories, but I’m already long winded as it is, so I don’t really see the point.

Ummm ok, reading that back I sounded like a complete twit. I think there may be a point in here somewhere but bear with me here for I’m feeling around blindly for it. Ray Charles without the talent if you will. And slightly less melanin. Or cool shades. Ok, so I’m nothing like Ray Charles. So sue me. At least I didn’t do horrible Pepsi commercials.

So what was I talking about? Oh, right. Friendships. I bet you can remember that first person that opened your doors to a much larger musical landscape. Be it a sister (no such luck for me) or an uncle, etc. there is usually someone who grabbed you and said, “Hey! Over here!” Like Alice falling down the rabbit hole, you suddenly find yourself in a world where nothing is what you expect, but you can’t wait to see what’s lies in waiting just around the next tree or over that nearby hill. Something clicks, the switch is flipped and you instantly tell yourself this is where you belong, quickly followed with ‘Where can I obtain more?’ It’s an addiction, pure and simple.

I remember my “eureka” moment. Ok, now I’m going to be dating myself here but since the lot of you have already seen my blips, I think it’s not a stretch to say I’m “seasoned”. I was a freshman in high school. I was sitting in art class. Or was it drafting? Whatever it was, there were pencils and big blank bits of paper involved, so for the sake of argument we’ll just call it Darting. I was your atypical…hahaha…Ok that’s not true. I couldn’t even get through that sentence without laughing. I was the introverted shy art kid back then. Didn’t speak much and kept to myself for the most part. It wouldn’t be too difficult to rustle up a few people who wished I had remained that way, but true to form I’m rambling and getting away from the point of this little diatribe.

His name was Craig Steely. He was my catalyst. Sidling up to me one cold rainy December morning, he mumbled, “Hey, so what kind of music do you like?” I remember looking at him and saying, “Oh the usual.” The usual being whatever I stumbled across. Nothing too extraordinary or off the beaten path. He smirked at me as if to say, ‘Oh dear boy, you have no idea what lies beyond the pale’ and said, “take this home and give it a listen and tell me what you think.” He handed me an unmarked cassette tape with no case. Remember cassettes people? I gingerly took the tape and managed to blurt out “mmkay, thanks” before he shuffled back to his desk without another word.

Upon arrival to the ‘ol homestead I went off to my room, closed my door, flipped on my rocking Sound Design tape deck,  (complete with the awesome racing stripe I procured myself) slid the tape home and pushed down the over-sized play button. For hours I sat, transfixed at the sounds pouring out of my speakers, filling up my room with the sound I had been searching for. Now before you make fun, I must explain that in 1981 in a small California town musical diversity was non-existent. So anything outside of The Police on the radio was a rarity. On one side of the Tape of Destiny (heh heh) was Depeche Mode’s Speak And Spell. Side two was Oingo Boingo’s Only A Lad. You couldn’t get any more diverse if you place those two bands side by side. That was it for me. I could never go back.

Needless to say I was hooked. Lyrically, musically and every possible way imaginable these two records had attached their tentacles into my being, forever changing me in how I viewed and listened to music. I had to have more. Anything I could get my hands on that wasn’t plastered all over the radio or MTV. Although I must give some props to MTV for some early concerts with bands like Split Enz and the Art of Noise. Thus began my musical quest. A journey that has no ending as it turns out. That’s quite a nice feeling, isn’t it? Knowing that there is no final stop on the trip of musical discovery.

I only mention this story to drive the point home. From that day on, as I built up my musical muscle, I began instinctively gravitating towards people with the same outlook in regards to music. Conversations with complete strangers in record stores about music. Meeting people at shows, and eventually school as the “weirdos” started to show their true colors. Hmm, maybe they always did but I hadn’t noticed. Could it be that I was blind or was my internal switch set to off? Friendships created and cultivated from something as simple as “Oh, you like Fad Gadget? Have you heard Bauhaus?” is something that (to me) only music can do. Like a domino effect, you find yourself hopping from one genre to the next, amassing a library of music and friends who are just as electic as the music you’re consuming. Then before you even can fully comprehend what happened, you’re part of something. I do feel a bit sorry for the youth of today. With everything mostly digital now, that entire experience of discovering music on your own or from a very helpful record store clerk is almost totally extinct. Not to mention the way music as a whole is produced and packaged on an assembly line for the short attention span demographic. The smell of the records lining the shelves (not unlike an old bookstore) or a hidden gem just waiting to be plucked. It’s sad that some people will never know what that feels like.

Now for us old dogs, the internet has allowed us to find others that share our passion for music, so I’d have to burn my geek card if I didn’t at least admit to the positive aspects technology has wrought.

I suppose my point is this: Friendships (at least in my experience) originally formed with a similar love for music as its support base seem to last far longer than any other friendships. Be it a way of dress, a band sticker on a car, you instantly recognize and sense that overall, the person you’re communicating with is going to have far more common with you. From books to movies, it seems the music addicts have such similar tastes across the board. Why? Could it be the openness of one’s psyche that allows them to appreciate what’s not deemed the “standard”? Personally I think it’s just how people are born. Just as some individuals are born with a natural talent for painting, the same holds true for the music lover. There’s something in your genetic makeup. You can listen to something run of the mill and appreciate the ability, but it doesn’t move you at all. No, for you, the true music lover, you are moved by something else. It’s almost impossible to explain, but everyone one of you knows exactly what I’m talking about. Oh sure, we all have our guilty pleasures, but if forced to choose, there is no question in which path you will take.

Just remember to bring comfortable shoes. It’s going to be a long walk.

Writer’s block? Try monolith

You’re probably wondering why there is very little content filling up this corner of the interwebs. Seeing as I am the soul incarnate of procrastination, that should give you a little clue. Do I have anything important to say? Probably not. I do have a few seeds that may or may not germinate. The problem is I, more often than not, piss all over them instead of giving them the light and water they need to grow.

I was talking to a friend via IM just moments ago about this same problem. This is what transpired.

me: How does one’s blog even get read? It’s not like Im going to pimp it.
Jenyfer: I’ll be your pimp baby you just work and bring Mama all your $$
me: haha just don’t burn with coat hangers.
Jenyfer: I don’t mark up my boys….I need them pretty
I’ll send the link to *names omitted for fear of sheer embarrassment*…will that help?
me: Sure. That’s up to you my dear.
Jenyfer: I have no problem pimpin you baby, you are sweet meat
me: well dont I feel like a slab of death. hahaha
Jenyfer: hahaha
Jenyfer: I have a few more people I could tell I don’t know how much influence I have…ZILCH but its worth a shot
me: I suppose i need some content. haha
Jenyfer: you better work!
me: I have no ideas. grrr. that’s the problem
Jenyfer: new art brut, go
me: Don’t have it yet. haha and I really don’t want to be this record review type writer. I find that a tad boring.

Jenyfer: pfft you can talk about what an awesome collab it is because IT IS
me: but that’s probably been done ad nauseum already. I’ll come up with something I’m sure.
Jenyfer: just think about it a minute
me: I hate the reviews that just compare this sound to that sound…blah blah blah. Yawn fest.
Jenyfer: you’ll come up with something
me: Look how much i know about music that i can reference an old 60’s band with this new artist? Fuck off pretentious wanker. haha I should just post this chat. haha
Jenyfer: that would be perfect and I AM NOT A WANKER heh
me: haha I didn’t say you were. Besides your a cantankerous bitch.
Jenyfer thats right. 

It’s a start.