Ghost Wiring

Your ghost is a light show at night...The river is watching you, at the drive in tonight...

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Moving....

From now on, I'll be posting my music ramblings at my last.fm journal rather than at Ghost Wiring.

At first I'll be recycling some of what I've written here (lame I know, but it's a new audience.)

I just prefer the format better...and I'm there anyway.

Hopefully I'll see some of you over there!

Thanks so much for reading!

Monday, December 26, 2005

Soundtrack of Our Lives…2004: “I wanted to tell the world a little bit about myself…”

1: Miss Teen WordpowerThe New Pornographers: During my freshman year of high school, I began to write poetry. During my sophomore, I began to write very VERY bad fan fiction stories and some mediocre poetry. By the end of my junior year, I had filled 4 notebooks with very bad fanfic, some mediocre poetry, and 3 screenplays, as well as a computer folder filled with said screenplays, a couple short stories, a couple one acts and some of the best poetry I’ve written thus far. As of where I am now, I have a couple books worth of decent poetry, 9 screenplays and an endless supply of short stories (ok, so some of them are still that old fanfic, but there’s no need to judge.) Needless to say, 2004 was when I found my way as a writer. My friends started calling me Miss Teen Wordpower, and whenever a song needs to be picked for me/dedicated to me, it’s always that one. However, with the all of the impressive amounts of hard drive space I’ve taken up on my computer, my writing is still a form of torture. If I do it, I’m disgusted by what I write (whether it be the quality or the content.) If I don’t do it, my head fills with ideas and I begin to twitch and am unable to concentrate on anything else. “Nobody knows the wreck of the soul the way you do…Miss Teen Wordpower…”

2: Flat Chested Girl From MaynardvilleBobby Bare Jr.: Well, you all read my first entry about this song, I assume, so, I don’t need to go into detail about the content of the song itself. There were times when I felt like the Flat Chested Girl… “No one pays attention to me, no one knows nothing about me.” Oh, I felt so alone for a while…like there was no one who truly cared about me or understood me. “Does anyone think that I’m pretty? ‘Cause no one will tell me, ‘Cause no one is looking at me.” So many of my friends had boyfriends and I didn’t. I didn’t think that anyone would tell me I was pretty because I wasn’t. I mean, my mother said I was but, really whose mother doesn’t? Needless to say, this song made me feel better (and by better, I mean much worse.)

3: Broken AngelHanson: First off…yes, I’ll admit it, I like Hanson. No, I don’t feel guilty about it. If you want to tell me I should then you should talk to Sue Miller. She’s promised me she’d make anyone who made me feel bad about it feel MUCH worse. Anyway, as you may have figured out by this point, 2004 was my year of angst, but bear with me…the music is good, and things will get better in the future. Buying Underneath, Hanson’s latest album, was a total spur of the moment thing for me. I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it, I just did it. I don’t regret it, though. It was one of my favorite albums of last year, filled with really solid pop tunes, and a much more mature sound than their original, Middle of Nowhere, which I was quite into junior high. “Broken Angel” really seemed to resonate with me in my summer of loneliness. “Broken angel, you gotta learn to fly, get up and earn your wings tonight.” I listened to this every night while I was in Spain. The story of an angel who can’t fly as high as the others…tries and fails, “Even angels die…the lights just fade…It’s so sad, but he’d be so proud…” This was my inspiration to keep going or a while. I’d listen to it every day when I was in Spain. Actually, when I went to study abroad in Cadiz that summer, it was the first time I had been on an airplane in at least 6 years, and my first trip without my parents. I needed to be reminded to get up and earn my wings. And, eventually I did. Over the summer, I found many opportunities to earn my wings. The highlight of my summer was, ironically, being able to go see Hanson with my other mom, Sue and my other brother, Spencer. I really hoped they would play “Broken Angel” but I knew that Zac sang it, and, although he sings great back up vox while playing drums, chances of him actually getting out from behind the kit to sing this one was highly unlikely. They didn’t play the song, but, it was still a good time. I went home and listened to it that night. I couldn’t possibly have been the broken angel yet…I’d had my chance to fly with the other high fliers on golden wings, and I hadn’t fallen.

4: I Wish I Was the MoonNeko Case: “God bless me, I’m a free man with no place free to go.” Summer of 2004, I celebrated the 4th of July on a beautiful beach in Cadiz, Spain. I was with all of the American kids who decided to celebrate by getting very, very blasted on this pristine beach. I sat in the sand, watching them all get drunk and forming a mental bubble around myself keeping the mind altering substances away from me. The night sky was clear, the sand was soft and the water that lapped my ankles was cool and clear. I looked up at the sky and saw the most absolutely pure white full moon. It called to me. I got up from where I was sitting and walked along the water’s edge…far away from the debauchery of the others. I closed my eyes, looked up at the moon and sang this song, to benefit myself more than anyone else. “Last night I dreamt I’d forgotten my name, ‘cause I sold my soul, but I woke just the same. I’m so lonely, I wish I was the moon tonight.” To this day, anytime I want to get out of a situation at night I’ll sing or hum this while looking up to the sky for inspiration. Over the past year, my mother has developed this habit too. Whenever she gets overwhelmed at work, she’ll go into her office and since a verse or two to calm herself. Like mother like daughter, I guess.

Thursday, November 03, 2005

Soundtrack of Our Lives…2003 “Sweet Little 16”

1: Pretty GirlsNeko Case: This one is special. In October I got to see the amazing Miss Neko Case. She had, within the span of a year, become almost like an idol to me and I was thrilled at the idea that I’d be seeing her live and in concert. It was at Schuba’s, one of my favorite venues. It’s small enough to be intimate, but big enough to get a good crowd once sold out. That night, Neko had decided that she didn’t feel like writing up a set list, so she took requests. Now, it must be stated that “Deep Red Bells” is my favorite song written by her, but I knew she’d play that one. So, I called out for “Pretty Girls! Pretty Girls!” in between the songs, my other favorite. It struck me as being about everything that’s wrong with the media and Hollywood. “But there’s millions to count you and keep you, and lovers who don’t understand. Don’t let them tell you you’re nothing, ‘cause you’ll change the world pretty girls.” Finally, at one point, Jon Rauhouse looked at me from his pedal steel guitar and said “Hey, what was that song you wanted to hear?” I realized at this point that his eyes AND Miss Neko’s were on me. I looked up at her and said, as politely as possible. “Neko, would you please play ‘Pretty Girls’?” “Ok,” she said. “But I might fuck it up. It’s been a while since we’ve played that one.” They played it, just for me, and she didn’t fuck it up, not even one word was out of place. Later that night, I got her into the photo booth and we hung out for about 10-15 minutes, just shooting the breeze, talking about our pants and the internet and that sort of thing. She made me feel like a real Pretty Girl.

2: I Feel Fine – The Beatles: “I’m so glad that she’s my little girl. She’s so glad, she’s telling all the world.” That summer, I learned that I was a very lucky girl. I was loved by people who would get to be very important to me within the year. Also, things at VC had gotten to be quite good. I was the little baby girl and I had people all over the world looking out for me. Little did I know that the people I admired so much, Jeff Tweedy and Sue Miller, had come to think of me as their “Little Baby Girl.” As soon as I found this out, I went around telling everyone. It was all far too exciting to keep to myself.

3: FavoriteNeko Case: I was the Favorite, and I knew it. I had a fan club, VC, an extended family, the Tweedy-Millers, the affections of my favorite rock stars, Kelly Hogan, Neko Case & Wilco, and an internship at Bloodshot Records. “But I know that I was your favorite, and I said ‘Amen’”. Within months of meeting Wilco, I had been brought into the family by none other than Ms. Susan Miller. She decided that I was her little baby girl, and I knew I was her Favorite. Kelly Hogan had noticed me singing with all of her songs the first time I saw her, and she had told me I was in the band, I knew I was her Favorite. Neko had played a song for me, and taken pictures with me, and told me I was to monitor her fansite (make sure the boys didn’t post any bad pictures of her), yes, I knew I was her Favorite. With Bloodshot…well, it was sort of the same, and sort of different. I met Rob Miller and Nan Warshaw while volunteering at Por Vida, a benefit for Alejandro Escovedo, who was in the hospital at the time. My dad had signed himself and me up to work the auction on the second day of the event. I was 16, but I could name a dozen of the artists on their label already. Nan told me that there were internships available, so that I’d get to work with them for as long as I liked, and get paid in CDs and other merch. We worked out the details and I had an interview and started work a couple weeks later. On Fridays, I’d hop on the bus after school and ride down to Bloodshot, where I’d work for a couple hours then be picked up by my dad. I worked harder than I ever have anywhere else. I’d complete a task in 15 minutes and ask for another. I studied harder than I ever did in school. I could name 90% of the artists off the top of my head, because I had fallen in love with them, and the catalog numbers of all of the albums I had listened to and sent out on a weekly basis. Was I their Favorite? Oh, you better believe it. “And I said Amen…”

4: Andy – Neko Case: “Andy, summer’s over. We’re one year older. Did you really think it’d be so fast?...It helped me through the spring just to dream of what it might become. Woke up to find it’d been here and gone.” Oh my…Andy… I had the biggest crush on him for most of high school. He was supposed to come with me to see Wilco at Summerfest. I thought for sure we’d have something together, but we never did. Or else, it came and left faster than either of us could have seen. Maybe I’ll get into that another time, but, although he was a big part of my life for the longest time, it doesn’t seem necessary to write about him right now. I guess the song really says it all.

5: Via Chicago – Wilco: This was the year of Via Chicago for me. Not only did Wilco open their set of my first show with this song, but it was also the year of the first Souper Sum It. We had friends fly in from across the country for this event. Over 30 people from the website were at my house. They all brought food and music and we talked and ate and laughed and ate and took pictures and ate. There was pudding and peeps and pomegranates and even mini pecan pies. This was, perhaps, one of the happiest weekends of my life. This was back when there were no cliques among us, no feuds, no rifts. We rode the Navy Pier Ferris wheel in our ball gowns. Wilco invited everyone, even those without passes, backstage. I had met many of them that weekend, others at Summerfest, and some at my first Jeff Tweedy show in January. This was when “I Believe in Tweedy’s Girl!” really meant something. When they finally discovered that I was real. I had never felt more believed in. I had been “Searching for a home, searching for a home, searching for a home, via Chicago” and I really felt that I had finally found it.

6: Sweet Little 16 Chuck Berry: I’m sure you’ve all heard this song before. If not, it’s a familiar story: Sweet Little 16 wants to dance and have fun. She collects autographs from her favorite teen idols. She calls her parents “Mommy” and “Daddy” but thinks she’s old enough to wear lipstick and high heels. In the end, poor Sweet Little 16 has to give up her fun and get down to work. In other words: her party’s over when school starts up again. This was me in a nutshell. I have posters and CD’s signed by my favorite stars. I danced like crazy during the summer. I was caught in the world between childhood and innocence and being the sweet one and being a part of a social group that consisted of people at least 5-10 years older than me, if not twice my age. School was the last thing I wanted to think about. And, to be honest, at the time, I thought I’d be like this forever.

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Soundtrack of Our Lives...2002: "I Idolize You"

I figured it would be interesting to try to track my growth as a person and a music fanatic over the past few years through song! The next few entries will contain a few songs (I do not have them all at this time...but I will add them as I aquire them) and maybe you’ll learn a little more about me and how I got to be the way I am… Enjoy!

1: Heavy Metal DrummerWilco ~ “Heavy Metal Drummer” was not the first Wilco song I ever heard…but it did come from an album that changed my life and the way I heard music. The first time I listened to it, when I was 14, HMD seemed to click with me from the very first moment I listened to it. The catchy beat and simplistic yet meaningful lyrics really seemed to speak to me. Not only did it immediately become my favorite Wilco song, but it soon became a little bit real (Actually…each year the song keeps re-inventing itself for me, so each entry will have a “Heavy Metal Drummer” segment.) I developed a huge crush on Wilco’s drummer: Glenn Kotche. I became the girl in the song, or at least, at age 15, I thought I was her.

2: Can’t Keep From Talking/Radio KingThe Golden Smog: 2002 was the year of the rock star for me. I began to idolize those in the bands I loved. I mean, this wasn’t anything new. From the time I was 5 I had idolized Tina Turner. “I know you don’t know me, but I know a lot about you/You’re the one who knows me better than I do,” sang the Golden Smog. Oh boy, were they right! I had come to identify with the lyrics and protagonists of the songs in a way that I never thought I could. And I thought that the musicians were actually these characters. “When I get back home, I’m gonna put your records on/I’ll play ‘em way too loud and I’ll sing along/I know all the words to every song/And I don’t really care tonight you sang one wrong.” Like all other diehard fans and wannabe fangirls, I thought I owned the songs, knew them better than the artists who wrote and performed them. “Your music fills my car and your voice breaks every time/I still wonder if I know who you are, I hang on every line.”

3: Big Brown EyesThe Old 97’s: About a month after I turned 15, I got bored at work and decided to join ViaChicago.org, the Wilco fansite/message board. The place was slow, with a group of original members who didn’t have all that much to talk about. I posted 24 times in my first day and that impressed a lot of people. My screen name? Tweedy’s Gurl. Some didn’t believe that I was who I said I was. What would a 15 year old girl be doing posting 24 times a day on a Wilco message board with people twice her age? But I managed to charm the administrative staff so much that they dedicated a line of t-shirts to me declaring “I believe in Tweedy’s Girl!” (a prophetic typo.) I guess you could say, in the words of the Old 97’s, that I “made a big impression for a girl of [my] size.” (This song would become relevant again later, not that it ever truly lost its relevance, in January of 2004, when Rhett Miller would sing it to me at a solo show because I hadn’t been able to go to the Old 97’s show the night before and because he would be told about me at said 97’s show by my boss.) My friend Theresa said, at this time that I was “Wise behind my ears”. I’m still trying to figure out what exactly that meant.

4: New MadridUncle Tupelo: The story behind this one is pretty simple. I was head over heels in a celebrity crush with rock stars in my eyes. Of course, I got over that within the year, but at the time, the song sounded so sweet and so perfect and so romantic. And there’s always the epic 50 page short story I wrote the next year based on the song called “Shake My Baby and Please Bring Her Back” which the world will never see. No more needs to be said about that song. On to the next song…

5: Sally SimpsonThe Who: “She knew from the start right down in her heart/That she and Tommy were worlds apart…” Within this year of idolization, I wished to become closer to those artists I adored so much. I was willing to do anything to meet my idols, just like Sally Simpson, no matter what the consequences. “Maybe he’d see that she was pretty and talk to her this Sunday.” I was the cute one, wasn’t I? I was young and made a big impression for a girl of my size and I was so sure that if I just had the chance to talk to Jeff or Rhett or Neko that they would adore me. People found this charming, cute, childish, and probably a bit too ambitious, but it was what was important to me at the time.

6: The Lonely 1 – Wilco: “I understand that I’m just a fan…” I used to listen to this one when I felt like I was all alone in the world, destined to have a glass wall between me and the people I admired. What a lonely life it is to base yourself around a personal connection you don’t actually have…I wanted to be Penny Lane…I started telling people I was a “Band-Aid” without any actual notion of when the term meant. But, it must be remembered that at the time, I was still very young.

Next entry: 2003...the year everything began to happen.

Monday, October 24, 2005

Summer tunes

Ok, it’s October. I guess that means that summer is officially over. Yes, I know, I’m in denial too. I still put on my flip flops and sun glasses in hope that I can make it last a little bit longer, maybe catch a few more rays of that wonderful sunshine before it disappears for another long winter.

I’ve noticed that the last few summers have been defined by one or two albums in particular. ( 2004: Rubber Soul (The Beatles), Underneath (Hanson), Break Every Rule (Tina Turner), 2003: Electric Version (The New Pornographers), 2002: Down By The Old Mainstream (The Golden Smog) ) This summer, however, I was blessed to have several defining albums brought to my attention. Three absolutely delightful and artfully recorded records accompanied me on the El to work, in the car on road trips, on the planes I took to visit my friends and family. These three were constantly in my CD player and I just couldn’t get enough of them.

The first was The Milk-Eyed Mender by the amazing young talent that is Joanna Newsom. Her romantically written lyrics, mystical harp playing and otherworldly voice really brought the songs together. For me, it started with seeing her at the Vic Theatre during WIRED magazine’s NextFest. They chose Jeff Tweedy to bring together a couple artists who he thought were the future of music and, wow, did he choose right. I see big things happening for Joanna Newsom. Yes, her voice is strange, grating at times, but if you can look past that to the stories that her words weave, you will be transported to another world, another time. There seems to be something very old about her sound, medieval almost. This album would take me out of the drudgery that was the summer office job. It would transform my train ride home into a magical journey. Also, there was something that made me feel like a rebel playing her songs on the computer at work because I knew my boss wouldn’t be all that fond of her sound. “Bridges & Balloons” and “Sprout & Bean” just seem to ooze sunshine and warmth, and everything that summer is about. The harpsichord lightens the sound of “Peach, Plum, Pear” and the overdubbing of her voice to create the illusion of a chorus makes it sound playful, almost childish. Her words are straightforward yet create images that dance through the head of the listener. Her voice can be loud and grating, silly almost, like in “Inflammatory Writ” or cooing, emotional and exposed like “Clam, Crab, Cockle, Cowrie”.

The second album that was the soundtrack to my summer was Blue Notes by Paul Burch & The WPA Ballclub. There is a not a weak song on this album. The instrumental parts of the songs are well crafted and catchy. Burch’s voice melts on your ears and his words get you laughing and crying along with the characters in his songs. There are tales of lost love and women done wrong, like “Willpower” and “Tonight, Tonight.” Even songs that seem happy on the outside, like “Forever Yours” and “Head Over Heels”, still contain strains of Even songs that seem happy on the outside, like “Forever Yours” and “Head Over Heels”, still contain strains of obsession and inevitable heartbreak. The one truly positive song on the album is “How Do I Know?”, a traditional call and response song which contains lyrics from the traditional “Little Birdie”. Burch’s story-telling abilities are very strong and he can pull you in, making the listener empathize with the narrator. “Isolda”, arguably the most beautiful song on the album, tells the story of the girl that got away, the one that the narrator wants but doesn’t need and can’t have. Occasionally, his narrative style is very blunt and honest. “Long Distance Call”, which tells of a truck driver who is VERY eager to get home to his girlfriend/wife, is so straightforward in its description that it still makes me blush. This album went with me on the plane to Chattanooga, TN to visit my best friend, and it kept me motivated when I was packing to leave for college. Even still I listen to it to get myself to class faster. I can see Blue Notes being an ‘all-year’ record for me…since it has survived past the summer.



The final album that shaped my summer is Arabella by Laurie & John Stirratt. I have seen them perform four times, and each time I loved the songs. It was surprising that I hadn’t gotten the album before my birthday this June, considering that I was at the record release party last November. As soon as I put it in my CD player, I began dancing around the room. I was trying on new skirts that I had gotten that day, the kind that flared out and had flounce to them. They fit the music perfectly, and I danced around my room. The Stirratts had been working on this album for a while, and it was exciting that it was finally released. It’s a really classy collection of songs. They are mostly tales of reflection on the self, events that happen in one’s life and life changes and growing up (whatever your definition of that may be.) John’s voice is reminiscent of Neil Young at times and the harmonies between the two siblings are very pure yet imperfect and vulnerable. The sound is very smooth and folkie and easy on the ears. The imagery of the songs is beautiful in those such as “Canadian Noon”, “Golden Fence” and “Mistral”. Occasionally, they rock out a little bit, such as in “We’ll Meet Again” (which is, perhaps, my favorite song by them.) I accidentally left this disc in my boombox when I went to Tennessee and it was the one record I wanted to bring with me. It was the one that would calm me on my first flight in 6 years, my first flight by myself. I can tell you, though, when I got back, I didn’t leave it behind anywhere. The warm sound of these songs and the golden color of the music seems to carry over into the fall. Last November when I saw Laurie & John with a full band, it snowed, but the club they played in was very warm, and we couldn’t possibly have imagined the cold Chicago winter outside.

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Countrier Than Thou

Recently, at ViaChicago, there was a discussion of 'fake country voices'. Someone said that Ryan Adams was great because he sang country music without a 'fake country voice'. (This argument was countered with the notion that, yeah, but he tries to sound like everyone else so it's just as bad.) There was also a bit of an argument between my father and a friend of ours about Gillian Welch (not at VC.) They discussed that Gillian was born Manhattan and grew up in LA. She attended Berklee School of Music where she met David Rawlings. They hooked up and started making bluegrass music. But this is where they disagreed: My dad said that he wishes to create the illusion that she is a coal miner's daughter, and she does a damn good job with it. Our friend didn't really agree that it was an image. Her music is dark and haunting but beautiful, and most of it sounds like it could have been recorded at the turn of the century. But, even though she is so good at portraying this image, it must be remembered that it is just that, an image.

Image is a really important part of music. But, it seems to me, that people don't realize that most of the time, it's just an image that they see on stage. A musician cannot be defined merely by the way they are on stage. They are performers, just like dancers and actors. But back to the original topic...Country music has one of the biggest image problems of all genres of music. It's always been one of the purest forms of musical expression, but these days it's hard to figure out what is real and true and what is just a performance.

Country music started as what is referred to in my house as 'whiny mountain music'. It was folk music from the Appalacian Mountains. The Carter Family, Bob Wills, and other groups from the early 20th century are common knowledge to moderate country fans, since nearly every country artist will cite them as a source of inspiration. The songs dealt with religion and god, heaven & death, and the good and hard times in life. There was a certain purity to this primative form of the current popular music. There was a truth to the simplistic lyrics and chord progressions.

These days, it is a widely commercial genre. Country music, now meant to seem glitzy and glamorous, (but really ends up seeming cheesy) with rhinestones and fringe being an important part of the look. The songs are directed towards the general public rather than for their own personal, spiritual, and emotional expression.

But I digress...what was I talking about? Oh, right 'fake, country' voices. Well, we know they plague commercial country music (Tobey Keith, Garth Brooks, etc.), so we don't even need to talk about that. But what about the indie country crooner? Let's talk about Ryan Adams again for a minute...and his arch nemesis - Robbie Fulks. Can we argue who is the greater artist based on their songs or by their image? Ryan Adams write songs that are deeply emotional and dark. They are folky and sensitive and well orchestrated. Robbie Fulks writes clever little country numbers that spark with irony and humor. Ryan Adams uses his sincere singer/songwriter voice filled with anguish and deep emotional scar tissue. Robbie Fulks uses a fake country voice. I'll let you pick which one is more 'true' to himself and his art. It seems to me that a singer should use whatever voice seems appropriate for the song, what seems true to her or himself. I've always found Robbie Fulks's style to be purely tounge-in-cheek, whereas Ryan Adams's seems a bit pretentious to me. This is, of course, not to say that I don't enjoy their music equally.

If the music that comes to the musician doesn't match their appearence or character, this should be praised. Rather than going for the obvious, they have been able to reach down deep inside themselves and find something that feels right to them. One of my favorite examples of this is the Waco Brothers, a band started by Jon "Jonboy" Langford of the Mekons and Dean "Deano" Schlabowske of Wreck. Most of the band is from the UK, but they all congregated in Chicago to play none other than Alt. Country (Insurgent Country, if you're going to be particular about it.) It's an odd combination, definitely, but it seems to fit them so naturally that you don't even notice.

So, my dear readers, I am going to leave you with a couple songs.
"The Death Of Country Music" by the Waco Brothers &
"Countrier Than Thou" by Robbie Fulks. Enjoy, and be discerning, not judgemental in your musical taste.

Friday, July 29, 2005

Track 1 00:01

I hate listening to new albums. I hate the feeling that I get, worrying that maybe I’ll hate it and it will be a waste of money, fearing that maybe I’ll find something that I will want to put myself into %110, thus alienating the rest of my music. The hardest part is if there is pressure from an external source to enjoy it. I know if I don’t like it, I’ll be letting down the person who recommended the album/artist.

But, for some reason, I still subject myself to this torture.

It seems the times I’ve put myself most out on the line were the ones that paid off most. The most significant of these experiences was with Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. My father had put so much pressure on me to listen to it and I didn’t want to listen to it, let alone like it. But, after only a few seconds into “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart”, I devoted my entire being to this album.

I’m trying to remember another experience in which I had such a strong reaction from the very start, but one doesn’t come to mind.

The way it usually works is my dad will buy an album, play it a couple times, and I won’t think much of it. Then, I’ll find myself trying to sing the chorus of a song or two from the album. I will obsess over the fact that I don’t know the words. Then, I will go back to the shelf and steal the album, immersing myself in it until I have memorized every single second.

Or else I will be trying to think of a song from my childhood (usually Neil Young, Nanci Griffith, Emmylou Harris, Robbie Robertson or Mary Black) and steal the album from my mom’s collection for a while, then play it in the car on the way to the grocery store and know the tunes better than her.

Discovering truly new artists is the hardest. I find most of the indie bands that my friends listen to to be pretentious and overhyped. (If my friends are reading this, sorry guys.) So, I rarely take recommendations from them. If I do find myself interested in those bands, it tends to be after they have already lost interest, so I don’t have anyone to chatter to about the utter brilliance of a record.

What is truly ironic about this style I have is perhaps the fact that I used to work for a record label and I would be making promos of CD's and shipping them out so much that I would get really attached to them, even though I had never heard them before. I would be promoting them, giving everyone the details even though I myself was still nervous about what they sounded like. Of course, I'd usually get into the albums months after they came out, but feel like I'd been in it from the start. Yeah, I guess I'm sort of a poser, but my heart's in the right place, right?

So, why do I go through all of this hassle? Because, there’s so much out there that’s worth listening to, and how am I going to find it if I don’t look?