"It Must Be Awful For You, Is It?"

A day late and a dollar short on this one, but thanks to a friend who hooked me up last minute with a ticket to Morrissey at the Aragon Ballroom, I'm now really excited about his newest album, Years of Refusal. Oh how the pompadour and panache were flowing, and I drank it up. He didn't do too many Smiths songs, but that was actually fine by me since most of the new stuff is instantly appealing. He did do Ask, among a couple other oldies, and let me tell you that man's live voice still sounds precisely as it did back in this vid from '87. The devil only knows the lengths to which he's gone, but he sure has taken care of those pipes. To the benefit of all.

It would have been a perfect evening if only the kind fellow who invited me along didn't end the evening by confessing his issues with women c/o growing up with a schizophrenic mother. Apparently we are landmines of sheer terror to him. By "we" I mean all women who walk the earth (and furrow into the ground waiting to explode before unsuspecting men). Then again, the sentiment was perhaps a bit more fitting than I initially realized coming on the tails of a Morrissey concert and all.

The vid here is an entertaining interview of Morrissey by Russel Brand. Then again, it's impossible not to be entertained by an interview with Morrissey. I recently read one where he was asked what was playing on his iPod, and he responded "I don't have an iPod. I have a gramaphone that runs on sand mixed with water." What a lovely man.

She Acts Like We Never Met

While fattening up my coffee at Alliance this morning, this song came on, helping the coffee in its herculean efforts to move my stagnant morning blood. I finished dressing my coffee before it ended and reached for the iPod to hear the rest, which is when I discovered that I have not yet ripped ANY of my many Bob CDs to put on my iPod. Blasphemy! I will get (D to get) right on that.

This is Bob doing "I Don't Believe (She Acts Like We Never Met)" in 1964 at Philharmonic Hall. Not to worry, this was when he still used varying intonations while performing live. And here he is back in 1965 doing one of my all time favorites, Love Minus Zero/No Limit.

My love she laughs like the flowers, Valentines can't buy her....

My love winks, she does not bother, She knows too much to argue or to judge....

Finn and Dandy

How could I forget to mention that seeing The Veils last week was dandy times dandy. Ideally they would have played their entire discography, but they were the opener, and they performed in a tee-tiny theater and stood mere feet away from my lovin' ears. Alas... much like the adorable homo heckler who deliriously screamed out his appreciation during the show, "I couldn't have been happier than I [was] in that moment!!"

I actually met Finn Andrews before the show whilst he sucked down a ciggy and again after whilst... he sucked down another ciggy. Finn is the caboose in a train of musicmen I've "met" here and there over the years. "Met" having a wide variety of definitions, such as "making ass of self with" (Mike Skinner), "translating French boyfriend's nonsensical statements to" (Libertine's bassist), and the awe-inspiring "dating the roadie of" (no name needed), to name a few. Most recently there was Andrew Bird, who nearly tripped over my dog's leash coming out of the local hipster shop. I apologized, he ignored me and proceeded to speed-walk to his Honda Element. Be not afraid, Bird, I was merely following your skinny arse, not stalking you. Big diff. Besides, we've met before... the time I stood beside him after a show, and that other time he stood near me at Lula while we waited for brunching space. Yeah, we're BFF.

Most of these encounters leave me oddly tongue-tied, which was pretty much the case with darling Finn. It's not that I think they're super human (though I usually think them pretty super), but there's something weird about me recognizing them, them not knowing me from eve, and steamrolling them with excited conversation all the same. Not that I'm ever one to steamroll anyone with conversation, but in those cases I often get particularly frozen in a flurry of taciturnity. Unless I'm good and drunk. Which I was not in this case. Even after a few shots of Tequila (sad attempt at reliving Mexico).

Luckily D was there to pick up my sobering overanalytical pieces, thereby qualifying this one as an official meet and greet. Well done, D. Finn made polite conversation through puffs of smoke and told us the next album should be ready by March. Other meaningless conversation ensued, but who cares. He's handsome, breakably skinny, less effeminate than I imagined, and his bassist, Sophia (Finn's grammar school pal), was awkward cuteness at its best, both in person and hunched over on stage. Dandy indeed.

Dissever

I'm feeling a little like that gummy bear at the moment. Finally finished the second half of the plaintiff's deposition that started late last month. The thing went 7 hours all told. Highly unusual in light of the low level of complication, but probably speaks to my inexperience and the plaintiff's penchant for non-stop ramblings (useful at times, brain-burning at others). There were some awkwardly funny moments (discussing the changes in the "motion of the ocean" with a 66-year-old man comes to mind), but I'm too brain-blur-overloaded to elaborate at the moment.

But.... there's been a buttercream frosting-coated carrot (gross) dangling before me all day to help me through. That's right, my night with The Veils is finally upon me, and I couldn't be more excited! Unless I won the lotto, in which case a lot of things would change around here. Feeling very glad I scheduled the dep for today and not tomorrow. Now I can enjoy me some Finn Andrews & Co. hook, line and sinker.

Will report back tomorrow...

An Endless Night, Silver Star Spangled

Assuming the sign of a stellar show is wanting to hear more as soon as you walk out the door, Nick Cave was one screaming success. When I got home I couldn't help but stay up and search youtube for good vids and juicy tidbits on his personal life. What can I say, even with that hair and stache he is a damn sexy man. He's got moves. Here's a hodgepodge, in no particular order as you will see....

The top is Henry Lee, from Murder Ballads ('96), and here's an excellent live version. What I never knew (or knew before the early-onset-alzheimers) was that Nick and PJ were a couple, and their break-up was the catalyst for The Boatman's Call ('97). Now that I know (or remember), it makes perfect sense... Here's "Into My Arms" and "People Ain't No Good" from Boatman's Call.

And here's the spookier sounds of Let Love In ('94) with "Do You Love Me?" and "Red Right Hand," live and not live.

From No More Shall We Part ('01), here's a live cut of "Love Letter" and a video (that I'm LOVING) for "Fifteen Feet of Pure White Snow." Look, there's Jarvis Cocker! I'd kill for Nick to come perform in an office conference room and get all the stuffed shirts to cut a rug. What a badass idea for a video, no?

Another favorite from 1990's The Good Son is The Ship Song, and here's the video version with a funny interview intro on why he didn't approve of the execution. Bad hair day.

"Gone are the Days of Rainbows...

...gone are the nights of swinging from the stars."

In anticipation of seeing Mr. Cave and his Bad Seeds tonight (exciting!), here's an old favorite, "Straight to You." Sorry, the vid's scary, but I love this song with all its grandiose drama, befitting the most broken-hearted and weak ~

This is the time of our great undoing
...
Heaven has denied us its kingdom
The saints are drunk and howling at the moon
The chariots of angels are colliding
Well, I'll run, babe, I'll come running
Straight to you…

If you've ever felt that inexplicable draw toward another while knowing something's off yet you just can't keep yourself from going back 'cause it feels so good (for a moment), you can probably relate.

"The Most Tender Place in My Heart..."

... is for strangers."

I love that line. I'm not sayin' it's right, but I like it.

The Hideout Block Party did not dissapoint. I heard a Canadian band I'd never heard before, called Black Mountain. They might be a bit too "jammy" for my taste, but the lead singer was bad-ass. She just stood there subtly swaying and nodding her head to the beat, occassionally belting out some gorgeous icey-cool vocals. Cross Janis Joplin with Mazzy Star, and throw in a few warbles. I could do without the warbles, personally, but she earned 'em. My easily-distracted-by-unimportant-things-side also loved that she had no waist yet still wore a waist-cinching dress. But I digress.

Neko Case was the headliner and sounded great once the soundguys got their GeeDee heads out of their arses (not 'til SIX songs in after she'd already played one of my FAVORITES). There's a sound guy out there who needs to be shot. Okay, fine, maybe he just needs to be canned, but the piper needs to be paid. If you've never seen Neko live, you really must. Just like a songbird, she sounds just as beautiful live (when some amateur doesn't fuck it up), and she's a hoot to boot. Here she is at a different concert asking guys to stop wearing girly pants, a sentiment I wholeheartedly share. Stop making us stare at your mooseknuckles, damnit! You know you do it too. Tight pants are man's answer to plunging necklines. They want us to look, I'm sure of it.

Thanks to gg for her fashion commiseration (I ponder if "What Not to Wear" could take on an entire city?) and for reminding me of the deliciousness of a North Carolina hot dog. I had a couple bites despite myself, and boy do slaw and chili do a dog good. Even though I rarely partook back in NC, I had to agree with gg that it tasted like home. Thanks to B for the ticket, and for fearlessly shedding a tear or two at the sound of a pretty voice. I mean, after a few brews. We know, it was just the beer talkin'.

Biking to and fro the show was almost as fun as the show itself.... except for when some assholes shined a flashlight in my face to scream at me that I should be wearing a helmet, and "helmets save lives!" I'm well aware, Brothers Helpful. Thank you kindly, BUT (a) my head is too big. (b) it was hot. and (c) if you're so concerned about my well-being, why are you screaming in my face and blinding me with your flashlight?? Of course I didn't say a word. I just put on my best poker face, pedaled fiercely onward, and pretended not to see or hear a thing (no, not a peep).