17 posts tagged “music”

 So, I've been in Nashville right at one year now and I finally started making contacts with the local music scene.

There was a backyard BBQ this past weekend with one of my meetup buddies, who apparently has quite a history.

Should you get the chance, check out the music of any of the following three acts with my blessing:
(and tell Blane to "eat his fruit".  There was a jungle juice incident.)

You can find some of their upcoming schedules on their sites.

Guy-Michael Grande

Erin Easterling

Shane & Blane   (click cancel through the lamespace pimp-my login to hear some samples)

I wound up behind the charcoal grill working on teriyaki chicken for the crowd and talking (read drinking) with the musicians and helped them break down their equipment back to their cars when they were done.

You know, the fun part of the party.

It's dedication time.  What song are you sending out, and who is it dedicated to?

Tom Petty "This One's For Me" from the album Echo.

Dedicated to myself.

This one's for me, this one's for me
Not for anyone else, I need it you see
I threw all I had into the sea
Now I want a little back, this one's for me

Lover I found the mistakes I've made
Will follow me down into my grave
So much has gone by, so many to please
Well this one I'll keep, this one's for me

And you don't even know what you got
'Til it's walking away
Yeah, you don't even know what you had
'Til it laughs in your face

Some other time, some other day
We'll sing this again some other way
So much has gone by, don't know where to start
Well this one I'll keep here in my heart

And you don't even know what you want
'Til it's walking away
Yeah, you don't even know what you had
'Til it laughs in your face

This one's for me, this one's for me
Not for anyone else, I need it you see
I threw all I had into the sea
Now I want a little back, this one's for me

And you don't even know what you've got
'Til it's walking away
Yeah, you don't even know what you had
'Til it laughs in your face.

Does it still count as found music if the music finds you?

Good stuff from A New Breed of Monkey

Take a listen and reward them with a purchase if it works for you.

Available for download/purchase from iTunes, Napster, Rhapsody.

Apparently, neither one of the two groups want to pay the artists much per album.

Most Radiohead fans paid $0 to download album.

Led Zeppelin will finally offer their music online starting next month.   Of the music you buy, about how much of it do you download and how much do you buy on physical formats (CDs, vinyl, etc.)?

100% physical graffiti.

I'm not opposed to digi, I just haven't done it, ever, for purchased music.

With a physical album, you can put it on, turn down the lights for the evening, fill a tumbler with your choice of spirit, recline in a comfortable chair with a blanket over your legs, and lazily flip through the liner notes and melt away.

I've just never found an elegant way to do that with digi music.

Appropriately enough, it was sunny last Sunday.

The neighbors on both sides of us were gone to the subdivision pool.

I was in no condition to enjoy the water myself, having been sunburned in an odd pattern the day before at the pool.

The shape of the burn looked suspiciously as if sunscreen spray was applied to me by a person of approximately the same height as my wife, as I was carrying a 14 month old in my left arm/side while kneeling down to help a 3 year old into the foot-deep kiddie pool.

So on this sunny Sunday, I could be found in a small patch of shade on the patio,
reading a book and listening to tunes.

My own collection.

Modern commercial radio gives me a rash.

The kiddies were down for a nap. 

It was a beautiful moment complete with birds chirping and the rustle of the tree branches in the light breeze.

The wife emerges from the house.

In a bikini.

I slide the sunglasses down my nose a bit for an unfiltered view.

She lays out several lounge chair cushions and a towel, with intent to lay-out in the sun, just beyond my feet.

This despite the recent article in Newsweek we discussed about the addictive nature of sunbathing.

I think about scolding her, but instead take a pull from the whiskey tumbler.

It's just not proper etiquette to scold a woman in a bikini. 

Just to hit my homemaker's quota of bitching for the day, I made the decision to hound her about turning in her expense reports for reimbursement later instead, when she has more clothes on.  That would have to do.

The album ended after another twenty or so minutes of ogling, and my tumbler contents must have evaporated, because it was dry.

I'd only advanced the book a few pages.

On returning outside, I discovered that the wife had turned over on her belly... and removed her top.

There's only one small step out to our patio, but I still nearly managed to miss it, sloshing a small drop of the precious amber elixir.  Ah, let the angels have their fabled share.

I put the album into the player and resumed my shaded perch.  The show was getting better in the second half.

Maybe those expense reports could wait another day or two before I followed up with her about them.

So, it was then that the wife looks over and winks, "Ya like that do ya?"

"Well, yes."

"We've been together forever and it's nothing you don't get to see everyday." 

I also chose to let the double-negative slide, you know, considering.

"Yeah, but this is, like, naughty."

Another smirk and she turns her head away and back down to sleep.

The tumbler gets empty again, somehow.  I need to get up to go fix that again.

But she's still just laying there, sleeping, topless.

Mischief floods my percolating synapses.

I set the tumbler down gently, and reach for the wallet out of my pocket, finding a $5 bill.

Hello, Mister Lincoln.  I know you're usually found on Mount Rushmore, among other places, but I think that the Grand Canyon would suit you better just now.

So, instead of advice, I gave my wife a tip.

A quick tug from the wrist, up and out, slide the bill in, then let the bikini snap back.

Ah, the outdoors.  Great for developing a deeper appreciation of my favorite national monuments.

Props to Barak Obama to be the first (to my knowledge) of this rounds U.S. presidential candidates to use an 80's Metal band name in a speech.

Quiet Riot as performed by current Illinois Senator Barak Obama.  You know, the one guy that stands a chance against Team Clinton for the Democratic Party nomination?

If you had a CD or album coming out, who would you thank in the liner notes?

When my CD/album comes out, the inside of the jacket/liner will be lined in horizontal light blue stripes to resemble college-ruled notebook paper.  Aside from that it will be blank.  It will be up to each person to fill in all the people they'd like to thank and what they're thankful for.  Or alternately, they could write naughty limericks on the lines.  Possibly the grocery list.  Or they could even use the blank liner notes for T.P. if they forgot to put it on the grocery list and then discover that they've run out.

It'll happen.  One day.  I will be a big, rock, star.
Could be as Groove Neuter, or the Swinging Dangles, or maybe even the Pixlettes.
And the kids will bounce and hop in their cars, in the bars, near and fars to these words that they aren't really listening to because they just like the beat, and the guitar, and its the trendy thing to listen to, before its completely forgotten:

SPF 45

Breezes, hot, blow

Softly she wakes

From death below

A pill she takes

Nostalgic undertow

To weaken her aches

Slip. Slap. Slip. Slap. Slough.

AAAAAAAAAaaaagggggggghhhhhhh!
 

Let it clink

Cubes

In my drink

Cubes

They never sink

Cubes

Helps me think

Cubes

Slip. Slap. Slip. Slap. Slurp.

AAAAAAAAAaaaagggggggghhhhhhh!

And it burns

In my eyes

And it burns

To hear her sighs

And it burns

To feel her thighs

And I burn

To meet her eyes
 

Slip. Slap. Slip. Slap. Sly.

AAAAAAAAAaaaagggggggghhhhhhh!

Erector set

Eight hundred pieces

Pneumatic action

Opposable thumbs

Weapon does not fire

Figures not included

Not actual size

Slip. Slap. Slip. Slap. Slop.

AAAAAAAAAaaaagggggggghhhhhhh!

Wind kicks up

She wakes, hard

Hardly

Hard

Hardly

Hard

And then she falls

Falls

Calls

Back to sleep.

Slip. Slap. Slip. Slap. Slept.

Aaaggghh-...

• Wake, sort of
• Sheets pulling me back under like water lapping at a drowning man.
• Pillows at least a half-mile deep.
  
• Sunrise, walking the dogs, orange light, dewy grass
• Note that the dogs have gotten into a diaper somewhere, visual data from their droppings
• Shower, warm, borderline hot, needling; and smelling ever so slightly of mold
• Mental note to confer with property management agent.
• Kids, where the hell are the kids?  Bed, a yes, awake but not in trouble.
  
• Shave, note blade slightly rusty... slightly?  It is or it isn't.  It is.  Must find replacements in box somewhere.
• Coffee, java, espresso... life.  Christopher Bean Tiramisu beans.  Hot steam under pressure, voila.
• Kids, where the hell are the kids?  Ah, breakfast table, eating cereal, mostly neatly.
  
• PC to check traffic for wife's commute.  Suggest alternate route.  Avoid congestion = faster = happy.
• Sausage.  Squished medallions of porcine yumminess emitting greasy smoke.  Crisp and unburned.
• Kids, where the hell have I put the kids?  Oh, TV, Noggin, to make smart kids who are active, by sitting on their asses.  Actually very active today.  Lots of play in the dogs crates.  The pups yield the field with valor.
  
• Drag pool off patio into yard.  Do battle with insects of extraordinary size.  Extend hose.  Fill pool.
• Cuppy and a nap in crib for youngest.
• Eldest spots pool.  Much whining.
• Eldest changed into swimsuit.  Much splashing.
• Sunny.  Warm.  Chair.  Footrest.  Backyard.  Pool.  Daughter giggle.  Tanning.  Beer.
• Where the hell are the kids?  Ah, lunch.  Dry one off, dress, table, peanut butter toast in the face.  Wake other up, dry off bum, change diaper, reapply clothes, table/high-chair, peanut butter toast, on the face and the hair, and the floor, to the puppies.
• Pool, splashing, two daughters giggling, warm, sun, chair, footrest, tanning, beer.
• Tired tantrums.  Nap for one.  Quiet puzzle time for two.  Microwave, processed-cheese on tortilla chip rounds Nachos for me.  Lookie, BBC America, and Discovery Science Channel and way too many others to ever flip through.
• PC time with the eldest.   Lots of Nick, Jr games.
• Checking on wife's commute home, suggest alternate route, ignored.
• Wife stuck in traffic, finally aborts and attempts suggested route.
• Dinner, sirloin tip under the broiler, finished with blue cheese, bovine bliss.
• Music and dancing and craziness on the coffee table and lots of shoulder rides and tummy-floor-swing-rocker rides.
• Kids asleep, nightlights on.  Grown-ups on the patio with matches and marble, and green faeries dancing with the fireflies in the treeline down the hill along the creek.
• Sweet tea and vodka.
  
• Marital aerobics.
• Oblivion.