Just because this is the best St. Patrick’s Day newscast one could ever hope for:
Brought in Irish music to work today, and have had “A Nation Once Again” stuck in my head ever since.
rock week 9: who rocks the rock stars? 11 March 2009
Back in the day, when I was going to so many shows I could barely keep track, I started a system for blogging and photo cataloging purposes where I’d number and name certain weeks that had a particularly awesome batch of shows. For instance, one long weekend in 2006 was “Rock Week 2: Electric Boogaloo” and contained shows from Ward Williams, Jay Clifford, Metropolis, Steve Fiore, and Cary Ann Hearst. Yeah. I rocked it. I haven’t had a good old fashioned rock week in a year or so, but I felt I’d pick up the practice again tonight. And since I don’t recall what number I left off at, I arbitrarily picked one.
This round started this past Saturday (Mar 7th) at the Double Door. Actually, no, let me backtrack a little. It started Saturday when Sheryl Crow stopped at my register at work and purchased three books on Darfur and a DVD of Ladies and Gentlemen… The Fabulous Stains that was plucked from a display I had created earlier in the week. Yeah, I think that’s a good omen. (Yes, it was the real Sheryl Crow. I handled her credit card. And then her song “Steve McQueen” blasted through my head.) Later that evening I headed to the Double Door. (more…)
random updates 4 March 2009
My zine Master of Puppets Elbow (currently on hiatus) got its name from a remark my friend Ward made one day at his day job, after a night of rocking out live metal karaoke at a local bar. “Ouch, I’ve got “Master of Puppets” Elbow.” Well, Saturday night I went to a party with some friends, and have since discovered another rock-related ailment: Weezer Shoulder. The DJ put on “My Name is Jonas” and I took that as an excuse to rock the air guitar hardcore. And I’ve been feeling the effects since Sunday evening. Yowch. Miss Mae needs to do regular air guitar exercises and loosen up those muscles if she intends to do that on a regular basis.
I continue my amusement and mounting iPod play count of the latest Butch Walker, Sycamore Meadow. His songs are well-crafted and catchy, and I admit to some jam-out. I only seem to listen to it on the bus to and from work, and for me that certainly says something. I prefer “comfort music” on my commute. Music that is familiar in some way, so I don’t have to strain over the engine, the traffic, and those rowdy passengers in the back to hear the tunes. Butch Walker passes that test. Plus, his single “The Weight of Her’ contains the line, “What am I supposed to talk about with you, anyway?/I graduated the year you were born!” that for some reasons sets me in giggles. I’ve been there. On both ends.
We got a promo of the Annie Lennox Collection at Chain Name Entertainment Store and have been listening to it a lot (decent promos are hard to come by, and we monopolize what we can). I’m suddenly realizing I know a few more of her songs than I thought I did. When “Walking on Broken Glass” came on I turned to one of my co-workers and said, “Wow! I don’t think I’ve heard this song since my Walkman was alive!” He found that remark amusing. But it’s true! You know what else I haven’t heard since my Walkman was alive? Selena and La Bouche.
And with that, please enjoy this short interlude and join my flashback to 1995-era Amanda Mae, who would alternate between Z104 FM and her Ace of Base tape on her bulky Walkman instead of going to sleep.
Ahh… good ol’ Euro dancepop. They don’t make it like they used to.
