Gettin Old

There was this girl in High School I really liked. And oddly enough she seemed to like me too. All the signs were there. She leaned in close when I talked to her. She laughed at everything I said regardless of its genuine humor. Thing was though she was really hot. REALLY hot. Like waaaaaaaaaay out of my league hot. So I was really confused as to her true intentions. It wouldnt have been the first time a pretty girl had pretended to like me as part of a joke so I was wary. But after a week or so she wore me down and I asked her out. She said yes and a date was set. And then I screwed everything up.


On the night we went out I was so nervous about impressing her that I did everything wrong. I wore clothes I wasn't comfortable in, I took her to places I didn't really like, I acted like someone I wasn't and generally just behaved like an ass. I didn't do it on purpose and kept trying to get the ship back on track. Every time I said something stupid I knew as soon as it fell out of my mouth that it was going to land on her foot like a warm turd but I was powerless to stop myself. I could see by the scared look in her eyes that things were going as poorly as I thought they were but the harder I tried to be who I thought she wanted me to be the creepier I got. I relate this sad tale only as a lengthy preface and an excuse for my behavior last night at the Ra Ra Riot show.

I havent been to a concert in a long time and I am so enamored of Ra Ra Riot that all night I had to make a conscious effort just to keep my breathing regular. I didnt help that when Cleo, Mrs Chops and I walked up to Walters on Washington to get in line we were so obviously the oldest people there that I'm pretty sure a lot of the kids were just expecting us to ask one of them for directions to the nearest Luby's. We got in line and the two gentlemen in front of us both turned around and stared for a minute. Normally staring so blatantly is socially unacceptable but we were such sore thumbs that we accepted it and just smiled and hoped that we would pass whatever inspection they saw fit to put us though. The decided against a direct interrogation and left us alone. We waited our turn and got inside. We started working our way to the front of the smallish room that is Walters in order to get the best view of the stage in consideration of Cleo's substantial height challenges. We found a good spot and Cleo and Mrs Chops left me guarding our space and went to hit the merch' table to score some shirts. As I was waiting for them to return I started looking around and noticed the young lady manning the T-shirt booth was rather comely. She had long brown hair, a slight build and delicate features. And then it hit me. Sweet heaven above it was Alexandra Lawn! The goddess of the cello was hawking wares like a mere mortal!

My breath started to come in shallow gasps and I could feel myself getting flush. I realized that if I acted quickly I may get a chance to actually meet her. I gave the ladies a few minutes to come back and save our spot but when they didn't return soon I started to panic. The show was scheduled to start almost immediately and I didn't know if Ra Ra Riot was opening or not. I was afraid that the show would start and Aly would leave the table. But I didn't want to abandon my place as the crowd had grown measurably since we had come in and I was afraid of losing my primo spot in front of the stage. I weighed the two and chose a few minutes with Aly over a good spot in the crowd and left to be by her side. And then there I was. Within feet of her. She was smaller than I had pictured her but just as lovely. Also there was some guy helping her at the table, but my focus was on Aly. But she wasnt looking up anymore. She was involved in something on her laptop. And the selling duties had fallen completely to her assistant. I made my shirt pick and we traded money for cloth. I had completed my transaction and it was time for to go. But I couldn't leave. I stood there clutching my newly purchased teal shirt (why the HELL had I chosen teal!) like a maiden watching her lovers ship sail from shore. Roady boy was trying to smile politely as the line built up behind me but he was obviously getting irritated. But Aly had yet to even look up, I couldnt just walk away, I had to do something.

I leaned over the table and said her name. "Alexandra?" She looked up in surprise and looked around to see who had called her name and saw only a bald middle aged man with disproportionately large chops beaming back at her. I asked her if she would mind signing my t-shirt, the one I was clinging to like a blanky. She politley agreed and then did so. Then she asked if I would like the rest of the band to sign it as well. The rest of the band! Holy hell, was that an option? Apparently it was. And then I saw to whom she passed my shirt and sharpie to. Just to my left was Rebecca Zeller, the violinist. And just behind her was Wes, Mathieu and Milo! Just hangin out like ordinary people and not the musical geniuses I knew them to be! Rebecca signed my shirt with me breathing over her like a bad Napoleon Dynamite impersonator and then passed it on to Milo. As I stood there waiting, Rebecca tried valiantly not to notice that I was staring at her with an idiotic smile on my face. I realized I needed to make conversation because thats what cool people do. Rebecca looked a little tired and because thats the first thing that popped into my head and because cool people always say the first thing that pops in their head I said "Have you had a long day?" She smiled politely and replied simply "No." Not knowing how to leave well enough alone I followed with "Cause you look worn out"

Her expression immedialtly changed from patient resolve to scorching disdain. "Thanks" was her reply. OH NO! Did I really just tell a beatiful talented young woman that she looked "Worn Out!?" What the hell did I say that for! Thats not what I meant! I could feel the situation slipping away from me and I felt far away from my body. "No, thats not what I meant! I was just trying to say that you look like you've had a hard day, I'm not trying to be an asshole." (because saying what you are NOT is a great way to make someone believe you) "No, no... it's... it's cool. Don't worry." She assured me. But the damage was done. It was starting again. I tried to think of something else really cool to say but she put me out of my misery by collecting my newly signed shirt from the remaining band members and handing it back to me with a smile that you would give a dog turd as you scraped it off your foot. I think I said something else about how great I thought she was but she just nodded and smiled as she walked away. I cant imagine what I might have said if she hadn't left.

At this point I was starting to really freak out. I had really offended sweet Rebecca. Cleo and Mrs Chops finally showed up and I told them what had happened. I was hoping they would tell me the situation wasn't as bad as I was imagining but as I related the story thier eyes got wider and thier lower jaws got farther and farther from their uppers. When I finshed recounting my sad tale Cleo just stared at me and said "You basically just told her that she looked like fat #$@." I was devastated. I was crushed. My one shot to impress the band and become best friends for life and I had blown it. Completely and thoroughly. Cleo and Mrs Chops bought their shirts from Aly and I tried to put on a happy face but inside I was dying.

But here is where the story gets a happy ending. Mrs Chops asked me to ask the band to sign her shirt as well. As Wes, Milo and Mathieu signed it I told them how much I enjoyed their music. I think because I was already so disappointed with myself and believed that I had so completely made a fool of myself I was actually relaxed a little. I told Mathieu that this was the first show I had been to in almost 15 yrs. Wes asked what the last band a saw live was and I told him I had seen Public Image Limited back in High School. All three of them brightened up and asked about the show. I honestly don't remember exactly what I told them. But they nodded cheerfully and I felt much better. I was talking to cool people and not acting like a moron! A few minutes later as Cleo, Mrs Chops and I were regrouping and getting ready to fight our way back to the stage Mathieu made his way up to us and held out his hand in greeting. "I'm Matt" he said. "I know" I replied, "we are so excited to be here and meet you." Then he talked to us. Just chatted. Just stood there and talked to us like we were real people. I told him about how Cleo had introduced me to them and about our lowly little blog. He seemed genuinely interested and he asked us more about ourselves. We asked him about what it was like to be on tour, if he missed his family, and how he liked this go around compared to last time. He said he loved being on tour and playing music. He said he did miss his family and friends back in Syracuse but that he liked getting to see his friends around the country and that this tour was much better than last time. I dont have a great recollection of the entire conversation but thats the gist of it. Unfortunately for me, acting like a total buffoon tends to sear events into my mind but the details of a casual conversation with a fantastic bassist slip away from me.

Eventually Mathieu had to go, he had to get ready for their set. We found a spot near the side of the stage where Rebecca was playing and I did my best to make up for my previous behavior by constantly shouting "WE LOVE YOU REBECCA!" and the old standby, "YOU ROCK REBECCA!" I'm pretty sure it worked. The show itself was absolutely fantastic. There were, to my ears, flawless. Milo and Gabe wailed and rocked. Wes' voice was a perfect mix of forceful and soothing. Of course Rebecca and Alexandra were outstanding but I cant think of word to describe what they did with their instruments. They are what really set Ra Ra Riot apart. And I thank them for it. My only criticism would be that they didn't play long enough. I have a much deeper respect for what they do as musicians and continue to be in awe of what they were able to do with their considerable musical ability to make me feel and smile.





In the end we had an amazing time. I am in debt to Mathieu for making an old man feel cool again. I do have a bone to pick with Gabe, their drummer. He was either staring at Mrs Chops the entire show or there was a fascinating sticker just above her head on the wall behind us. Either way she was ecstatic. Afterward she accosted him to sign her shirt and forced him to have her picture taken with him. Some people just lose their cool when they get around someone famous.

Looking out my back door

This is gonna come as a shock to many of my fans but I was not well liked as a child. No, no, its true. The problem was that a keen wit, sharp mind and dry sense of humor were not as appreciated amongst my fellow 10 yr olds as I would have liked. They valued the ability to hit a small round object with a stick over reading at a High School level and upper body strength over IQ. Not only was I picked last for kickball, most of the time the team that had me left as their only option would choose to be one man short rather than be saddled with my dead weight.  During recess I would generally walk laps around the basketball court where the other boys were playing. They called this "Target Practice". Obviously, 4th grade was not a love fest. About mid way through the school year the constant abuse was starting to erode even my notoriously high self-confidence. I was really starting to hate going to school and my grades were slipping along with my sense of self worth. Then one day my teacher, Mr Mitchell, called me over to his desk while we were reading. He just chatted with me for a sec and then he pulled out a black cassette tape with a gold label and the letters "CCR" written in black sharpie on the front. He told me it was a group that he really liked and that he thought I might appreciate. He said he noticed I was a little different and that this music wasnt like the stuff the other kids listened to but that he thought I was mature enough to appreciate it. ( I realize as I write this that it sounds like the set-up for a long term highly inappropriate relationship but times was different back then.) The rest of that day felt like December 24th and I ran home as fast as my little legs would go. I jammed that bad boy in my tape player and heard this...







It blew my little white bread mind. It was raw, it was rough, it was visceral and it was completely alien to what I knew music to be. It talked about drug use, poor southern kids, bayous, and for the first time in my life music took me some place wild and foreign. Sure it was old news at the time, but compared to "Walk Like An Egyptian" and "There'll Be Sad Songs" it just seemed so dirty and real and the polar opposite of the music I heard on the radio. I had never seen a music video but I knew these guys had beards, overgrown sideburns and bad teeth. I could picture them kickin back on someones porch and just jammin out. They weren't cool, they didn't have nice clothes and they were still freakin awesome.  And that meant there was hope for me. I went to sleep that night with visions of elephants on flying spoons being serenaded by hicks in overalls and little kids with messed up teeth dancing a jig for thrown quarters and I was happy. Because I could see myself with them.

I got up early the next morning and could not wait to get to school. I wanted to tell Mr Mitchell how much I loved Creedence Clearwater Revival and talk to about all the things I was feeling and thinking about and wanted to do and what I though of their music and how it had changed the way I though about musicians and how we would be best freinds and on and on. Unfortunately he was still just my teacher. And I was still the dorky skinny kid that sucked at kickball. And I still got beat up that afternoon. But I was ok with that. Every now and then Mr Mitchell would slip in an obscure CCR reference in his lesson and give me knowing smile. And I knew that I was different. And that somewhere there were other kids that were different too. And no amount of wedgies could take that away from me. 

The Vominator

Last night I sat down to write todays Manly Music Monday and just couldnt get out of first gear. I had a couple of bands that I have been wanting to share with you guys and even had a couple funny (d'apres moi) stories to go along with them. But I just wasn't feeling it. I wrote a couple of opening paragraphs and deleted them and for the first time since I started blogging I was kinda dreading "haftin" to write todays post. Today at work I had even settled on just findin a couple of songs by "Spoon" and leaving it at that. But on the way home some gray clouds rolled in and started to fall down on me. And when I got closer to home the smell of a far away campfire came blowing in and this came up on my playlist.







And for some reason I was immediately taken back to 7th grade and my first trip by myself to the county fair. No specific memories came to mind at first, just the feeling of being an awkward teenager and shifting in and out of the groups of kids that made up my friends at the time. The excitement of being grown up and alone and at the same time finally starting to feel like you fit in somewhere other than your family and being accepted for who you were as a person. Scared that someone might notice you used some of you mom's concealer to hide that zit on your chin and thrilled that Mellisa from Biology noticed you and smiled while you waited in line for the Vominator. Ok, maybe a couple specific memories.... but you get the idea. Anywho.. Camera Obscura is not my favorite band in the world, but today they hit that perfect chord of melancholy joy and longing for a simpler more exciting time when everything was fresh and you could be whoever you wanted and the world was big and discoverable. 

So if you get a minute, and its not too cold where you live, walk outside, close you eyes and spend a few seconds remembering spring nights spent just sitting on the swings at the park with your first crush. And if you let go enough, maybe you can still remember what flavor her lip gloss was.....

Mmmmm... cherry.

A little freaked out.

Ok, this is kinda weird. If you'll scroll down you will see that I featured The Bird and the Bee a few days ago and specifically their song "Polite Dance Song". The video, I think you will admit is a little odd. It was directed and produced by Mr Eric Wareheim. Mr Wareheim is a comedian, writer and actor. He has produced and starred in several animated and live action series. Most recently of which is "Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job". He is also responsible for the recent Old Spice commercials.

Heres the weird part. While looking for a good version of Polite Dance Song I stumbled upon Mr Wareheim's Vimeo page.



I was surprised to find he had produced and directed the "official" music videos for three of my favorite songs.

MGMT - The Youth from Eric Wareheim on Vimeo.

Ben Folds - You Don't Know Me from Eric Wareheim on Vimeo.

And the previously mentioned Polite Dance Song which I will not repeat.

Heres my question. Is there some congruence here that I fail to see? The other selections Mr Wareheim was chosen to put to video are even less similair and more disturbing. Peruse, if you dare, his rendition of Health's "We are Water" or Major Lazer's "Pon de Floor". What am I missing that ties these together? Or is it just that Mr Wareheim and I share the same taste in music?

Easy Listening

So Mrs. Chops and I recently took a trip of some length. We relied pretty heavily on Pandora streaming from my phone to entertain and divert us during our 20 hours on the road. I, of course, have a station that has been perfected over the years and is EXACTLY the way I want it. A mix of upbeat from the likes of MGMT, Vampire Weekend, Ra Ra Riot and Miniature Tigers combined with the soothing tones of the finest ladies of rock like Leslie Feist, Regina Spektor, Lenka and Lykke Li.

After several hours of auditory bliss a song by one of my favorites came up.




As the song began, Mrs Chops chimed in with, "Ughh.... do we have to listen to more of your easy listening station?" Now, while I agree that The Bird and the Bee are very easy to listen to, I resented the implication inherent in the phrase "easy listening". I asked Mrs Chops to clarify. She went on to explain that I had apparently aged more that she realized and that my taste in music had descended into the geriatric recently. I objected and insisted that it had not. She felt strongly otherwise and cited my love for The Bird and the Bee as proof.

So I submit to you. Are The Bird and the Bee and their ilk "easy listening"? Or are they merely quietly cheerful? Contentedly resigned? Peacefully ecstatic?

I leave you to judge.

For my family

I just started this post 6 different times in 6 different way. None of them made any sense once I finished typing them. So I gave up. Lazy, I know, I apologize.

One of the most melancholy songs that I enjoy is Nightswimming. I don't know if Mr Stipe intended it to be so. The version on the album was less so than the way in which he sings it live. On the album he still sounds hopeful. Live he sounds so wistful. Heres both versions.







When I was about 12 my family went on a vacation to a lakeside campground called "The Palisades". I cannnot for the life of me remember where it was. I do however vividly remember the young lady with whom I fell in love there. I was floating in my inner tube on the lake near the shore when she and her friend drifted by close enough for us to make eye contact. I smiled at here and she smiled back. We paddled closer and started talking. Her name was Michelle and she was there for the week with her family as well. We talked on the lake till we got sunburned and had to head in for dinner. We agreed to meet that night by the big tree not far from the waters edge.

I was so excited to see Michelle again. She had blonde hair and blue eyes. She was wearing a bikini and smelled like sweat and suntan lotion. She was a little bit shy and a lot bit sweet. We had two days left on vacation and I was determined to spend as much of it as possible with her.

We met back at the tree after the sun went down. She brought her sister to keep her company. Michelle and I sat on a fallen tree and talked and talked. We liked the same bands, hated the same kinds of kids at school both felt like we had known each other for years. We kept moving closer and closer as we talked till we were touching arms. By this time her sister had drifted away and we were alone. Michelle reached over and took my hand and smiled at me. Then she leaned in and kissed me. We talked at length night about everything. Then she asked if I wanted to go for a swim.

We headed for the water and waded in slowly. We just sort of floated and tread water together in the shallows for a while. Then she kissed me again. We kissed for a while longer there in the dark water. I remember holding her head in my hands as we kissed as I ran my fingers through her tangled hair. She told me her family was going into town the next and wouldn't be back till later and that I might not see her. I ran back to camp and found a pen and paper so we could exchange addresses. It was getting very late and we we parted ways promising to write every day till we could find a way to see each other again.

When we left camp two days later I still had not been able to see Michelle and I remember feeling a profound deep down sense of loss as the lake receded in the back window of our car.

As soon as I got back home I sat down and poured out my heart to her in a long letter telling her how much I loved her and how I felt we were soul mates and I would be counting the days till I heard from her. About a week later I got a letter back from her. It was written in pink ink in big loopy letters. She wrote that she had had a good time too and that she was having fun back in school. She made no mention of her own heartache or longing to see me. She said nothing about love or feeling lost without me. I was embarrassed and heartbroken. I wrote her one more letter and tried to pretend I wasn't hurt. She never wrote back.

Ill never forget floating in the warm lake water at the Palisades looking up at the stars on a warm summer night and being in love.

Have you ever felt hopeful and despondent at the same time? Its a frustrating mix. Sorry this is so deep guys but this is how I'm feeling and I promised my brother a post. Its all I got right now.

Excuse me now, its late and I'm going to go to bed and cuddle with Mrs Chops. I think I'll smell her hair. It always smells sweet....

How it begins

So this is my music blog. Most of it is a straight repost of stuff from a blog I share with some friends. You can find it at www.songsforthesemisane.blogspot.com

But this stuff is just mine and I felt like I needed a place to put it out there. And I'll tell ya why. I like some weird stuff. Ask anyone. But heres the catch, I think youll like it too. At least you would if you thought no one was watching. See, I am of the opinion that we get a little.. how can I say this.. full of ourselves. Or self conscious. Something like that.

Anywho, check the dude in this video. Hes a little out of shape, he has a ginourmous birthmark/freckle/mole on his back and he is wearing too tight shorts. And hes is JAMMIN. Sure everyone else was bein cool and just watchin the band play. But not him. He felt like dancin and so he did. With abandon. Also with gusto. And you know what? It was infectious. So heres the orginal post I did on Songs for the Semi Sane. I hope you enjoy it.





I have two kinds of music I listen to. Leslie Feist and everything else. Almost everything can be placed in one of those categories. It's pretty convenient. The majority of what I listen to falls into the first category. I generally only listen to the second when I am alone. Mainly because most of it is pretty embarrassing. Not if you were, oh, I dont know.. a 13 yr old girl. But most folks tend to snicker when they see a 30ish bald guy with prominent chops cruisin down the boulevard in his Saab with all the windows open jammin to Cansei de ser Sexy or The Ting Tings. Not that I care mind you, its just, well, I tend to avoid embarrassment unless it comes knocking. Well.. knock knock.




The video made me smile but the song is the thing to which I am referring. It's by a band called "Natalie Portman's Shaved Head". Natalie Portman is not in the band. She is apparently vaguely aware of their existence and has a standing invitation to all of their shows but so far as not availed herself of that opportunity. So swallow your pride, roll you windows down and feel the joy of what two college dudes trying to impress some chicks can do with a couple of Keyboards and a drum machine. And what appears to be heavy doses of influence from Napoleon Dynamite.