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....