MODEST Mix

On Sunday night, I joined a friend of mine on a seat-of-our-pants road trip to Sioux Falls, South Dakota, to see a quietly promoted warm-up gig for Modest Mouse before the band kicked off its big spring tour in support of its fantastic new album, We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank.

According to Tickets.com, who were the online sellers for tickets to this show, no more seats were available when I checked on Thursday night. A few phone calls placed to area record stores told me that the website's claims were dubious. My friend and I, fueled by the freedom afforded him by the loss of his job that Friday, decided that, if nothing else, we were going to drive to South Dakota and enjoy a nice dinner before turning around and driving back.

Once we'd burned a few hundred miles of road and made our way to the Ramkota Exhibit Hall, I began to realize that our worries about finding tickets were for nothing. When we arrived 2 hours before show time, we not only managed to find a parking space 20 feet from the main doors, but only three teenagers were camping outside. Even after leaving Omaha 3 hours later than we'd originally planned, my friend and I had arrived way too early.

Still, the box office was not open. As showtime neared, there was a line of a few hundred people snaking around the outside, into the parking lot. While my friend and I argued about whether or not we should join the line, we soon found out that the line was for the poor bastards who already had tickets, but were experiencing a clusterfuck at the box office. My friend and I walked inside, bought our tickets, and were back out at the hotel bar within 3 minutes. The people who had prepared in advance would spend hours in that line, while dickheads like us who just showed up on a whim were let right inside.

Since I had entertained no thought of actually getting into the show, I was suddenly and excitedly realizing the dream of seeing the new Modest Mouse, featuring the additional gutiar skills of The Smiths' Johnny Marr.

I thought about how bizarre the situation had become. If you had told me a decade before that this dissonant, noisy indie band I loved called Modest Mouse would even have so much as a single mainstream radio hit, I would have told you to fuck off. Think about it. . . the same band that started by recording songs like "Dirty Fingernails" are now being featured on American Idol:



Come on, that's just ridiculous. Imagine what it must be like to be MM's Isaac Brock. One day you're fronting your little indie band, slowly selling more records and gathering an audience, and then one day THE GUITARIST FOR THE SMITHS IS IN YOUR BAND. I wouldn't even know what to do.

If you're Brock, you put him to good use, wailing away in your 6-piece band with two drummers and a multi-instrumentalist who looks like Hugh Laurie from "House." Marr fit right in, and it makes sense when you think about Modest Mouse's music, which is driven by the same strange angular riffs that Marr made famous in The Smiths. And really, who else can Brock thank for long song or album titles like Good News for People Who Love Bad News if not The Smiths?

The show was incredible, featuring a mix of mostly new (from the last 3 records) stuff and the occasional classic like "Trailer Trash" or "Doin' the Cockroach." The audience even got to see Brock's semi-psychotic side when limply tossed glass bottle hit the stage, leading the frontman to threaten more than once, "I WILL KILL YOU."

The set covered a lot of ground with a lot of varied instrumentation (the banjo and stand up bass even came out for "Bukowski"), but the band were at their peak when hitting the dance rock grooves with the disco basslines in songs like "Tiny Cities Made of Ashes." Brock's voice roared, the band was a cacophany of sound and the crowd began pogoing like a Justin Timberlake concert. When you can make the complacent indie rockers dance, you've really accomplished something. Even if your first band was The Smiths.

Tonight, a little mix CD of some of my favorite Modest Mouse songs. This was a bitch to assemble, since some of my favorite songs (hits like "Ocean Breathes Salty") had to hit the cutting room floor. Regardless, I think this is a fine introduction to one of my favorite bands. I encourage you to find all of their records, but for now:


1. Here it Comes
2. Never Ending Math Equation
3. Dashboard
4. Convenient Parking
5. Bukowski
6. Blame it On the Tetons
7. Cowboy Dan
8. Steam Engenius
9. Paper Thin Walls
10. Broke
11. Dramamine
12. Dark Center of the Universe
13. Tundra-Desert
14. Night on the Sun
15. Third Planet (live)


BONUS TRACKS
Cowboy Dan (Demo)
Cat Faces (from the Isaac Brock solo project/album, Ugly Cassanova)
South of Heaven (an acoustic Slayer cover by Modest Mouse and Califone)
Four Fingered Fisherman (live MM cover by Sun Kil Moon frontman Mark Kozelek)

MORE
- Order Modest Mouse CDs, LPs and more at Insound.com
- The band's homepage is right here, or apparently right here as well.

Pimpcast Volume 1

Thanks to my roommate's generous birthday gift, I finally have the ram in my computer do really get nutty with all of the app's on my Mac. While I've owned my computer for a while, it was always frustrating trying to use a program like iMovie, or especially GarageBand, with very little memory. Programs would freeze, or running functions would become so time consuming that it would kill my patience with a project.

If you remember, the only podcast I've ever "published" on Pimps of Gore was the post-Katrina "Pimps of Protest" cast I collaborated on with my friend Matt (at the time, he ran a site called This is a Pocket Protest). He was the poor sucker who had to do all of the work, while I just picked out some songs for him to work around. Now, I can finally leave poor Matt alone and work on these things myself.

Tonight's podcast, entitled "Venus and Mars Are All Right Tonight," was inspired by a single note, played at the end of The Shins "Turn On Me." That note struck me as sounding exactly like the note that brings the guitar solo to an end in Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper," and thus, a podcast was born.

I'm not making any promises here. Keep in mind that this is my first foray into my own podcasting, so things will run a little more smoothly from here on out. I kept this one on the short side (just under 30 minutes), largely because I made it for a couple of friends of mine whose commute runs about that length. I had not originally intended to share this with a mass audience, but I had a lot of fun with it and got to screw around with a few ideas that I thought worked okay.

Anyway, no more excuses:

PIMPS OF PODCAST, Vol 1: "Venus and Mars Are All Right Tonight"

Track Listing:
1. Venus and Mars/Rockshow (Wings)
2. Oh Sweetheart (The Shout Out Louds)
3. Steam Engenius (Modest Mouse)
4. Don't Fear the Reaper (Blue Oyster Cult)
5. -- snippet -- Drunkship of Lanterns (The Mars Volta)
6. -- snippet -- Welcome to Stop (31 Knots)
7. Hello Morning (Fugazi)
8. Toys in the Attic (R.E.M.)
9. Ron Klaus Wrecked His House (Big Dipper)
10. Turn On Me (The Shins)
11. Don't Fear the Reaper - outro

As always, this is designed to be played LOUD. Thanks for listening.

Tonight, in brief:

I'm working out a few hosting issues that should be resolved in the next 24 hours. After that, I have a few big posts planned for the month of March, including some new Wilco stuff (as part of my continuing Tweedy 100 series), a tribute to Modest Mouse (whose new record absolutely SMOKES) some of my favorite instrumental tracks and more.

For right now, I'm just posting one link, to my first of many monthly music columns in this week's issue of PLAY, a Philadelphia based weekly entertainment rag for whom I just started writing.

Initially, it was pitched to me that my column would be the print equivalent of Pimps of Gore. Eventually, the editors decided that the name of my blog was a little too obscure and wanted a more accessible, generic title. I told them that I was sorry I couldn't come up with a generic title, and gave them one other option: the title of a Spinal Tap song, "Tonight I'm Gonna Rock You Tonight." Amazingly, they went with that as the name of my column!

My column pertains to the recent announcement by the Rock Hall of Fame and NARM (the National Association of Record Merchants, or some shit like that) of the "Definitive 200" list of albums they think everyone should own in their record collection. Along with the obvious choices, they went for a lot of multi-platinum sellers that I would call pretty fucking far from essential (Creed's Human Clay?! Essential?!). In my column, I recommend a handful of albums I think are just as essential but typically unsung by groups like NARM (why would this organization care if you bought a Fugazi album? They don't, and Fugazi are not on their list).

If you live in the Philly area and are able to find the print version, you'll also get to enjoy some hilarious graphic design features, including lightning bolts, heavy metal font and a picture of me dressed up as one of the dudes in Breakin. It's pretty impressive work on the magazine's part, and I'd love to give my kudos directly to the designer. If anyone is interested, I'd be happy to email you the .pdf of the article.

I will follow up on this post in the next day or two with actual music from all of the albums I mention in the column (including some random rarities or live tracks where available). Stay tuned for classic and rare stuff from the La's, Miles Davis, Neutral Milk Hotel, Fugazi, Funkadelic, Sam Cooke and Sleater-Kinney.

Most importantly: Thanks to all of you out there for reading.

A one hitter (with no hits)

Just a super quick post tonight as I drudge through hour 10 of a night shift at the hospital. It's nights like this, where time seems to move slower and all you can hear are the occasional buzzes and bleeps of machinery, that I see the one mistake I may have made by heading into a career in nursing: NO MUSIC.

Between this station in my life and the previous one where I played advertising copywriter, I found jobs at record stores in Chicago and Omaha. While the retail environment is definitely not for my personality (I have a short fuse when it comes to stupidity, and retail is littered with it. . . hell, thrives on it), the greatest thing about working in both of those stores was that -- no matter how bad my day got -- I was still listening to something I loved (most of the time).

At the last record store where I worked, Drastic Plastic, you could pretty much play whatever you wanted. Obviously, playing the music sold in the store was ideal, and we usually did because our store was set up for music snobs. The store prior to that was not so user friendly. It was independently owned, yet corporate in nature and size, so the soul the place probably had one or two decades prior had been sucked out and replaced by the thumping, bloodless organ of commerce. The owners were more strict about the music played in the store.

Luckily for me, as one of the night managers, once the owners left in the middle of the day, out came all of the required music and in went dozens of mix CDs I made for the place. The employees, for the most part, brightened up, especially once they realized they didn't have to listen to bad modern Gospel and white boy blues for the rest of the night. A lot of the customers appreciated the change, too. I remember one guy walking in with his girlfriend, stopping dead in his tracks, and exclaiming, "Who the fuck listens to Versus here?!"

The other night I began assembling songs for a future post on some of my favorite instrumentals. As I compiled my list, I came across a song that brought back memories of working in that store. And it wasn't that I was sitting there thinking, "Oh man, what a great song. Everyone in the store must have loved this one." On the contrary.

Imagine you're Joe Average Music Buyer. You're wandering around in a daze at a store somewhat like Tower Records or, hell, even something as lame as Sam Goody. Maybe you're looking for the new Dave Matthews, or the new Kelis, or a copy of that new Tommy Lee Jones DVD (we sold a lot of Tommy, so I'm not pulling that one out of my ass).

And then you hear this:

NOW, WITH WORKING LINK:

"Moya" by GODSPEED YOU BLACK EMPEROR!

What would you do if you were in Joe Average Music Buyer's shoes? Don't get me wrong, the song is completely mindblowing and gorgeous. . . but it doesn't exactly make you want to spend your savings on that Incubus CD you've had your eyes on (nor should it). If you're Joe Average Music Buyer, you probably run for the hills from the onslaught of classical music colliding with bombastic orchestral indie/prog rock. You certainly don't peel off a 10 spot and buy the brilliant Slow Riot for New Zero Kanada EP that hosts this and one other equally mesmerizing track.

Of course, it's also great because Godspeed You Black Emperor! pretty much despise the music industry, so I'd bet the boys in the band would get a good laugh knowing that this song probably drove an entire megastore of customers mad as it slowly, over the course of almost 12 minutes, grew to that explosive crescendo.

Excerpts from CHICAGO: The (Not Gay) Musical!

As I was enjoying the few hours of free time I have between quizzes and a long night of hospital work, I started listening to an old mix CD I'd made a few friends after moving to Chicago a few jumps back.

By moving to Chicago and abusing the resource of my friend Matt's pimped out Mac, I was finally able to break out the spindles of over 1,000 CDs I had burned over the prior 2 years as I sold off my CD collection disc by disc. Suddenly, I was able to pore over albums I hadn't heard in years, along with being presented with Matt's entire library. It was like someone had opened a store in my apartment and I got to play with everything. With an insanely cold winter to brave and no job to speak of, my free time was spent in front of Matt's stereo.

Before I'd left Philadelphia, I made my closest friends there a 6 CD mix, this massive box set thing full of some of my favorite tracks (a lot of which spoke to a theme of moving / leaving / getting the fuck out of Dodge). Not long after arriving in Chicago, I sent off a 4 CD follow up full of songs that had been my soundtrack as I'd wandered around the city, too broke to eat but never bored with my headphones on.

This afternoon, in no particular order, a few highlights from the 80+ songs on those 4 CDs:

"Lady Don't Tek No" by LATYRX: Finally. I've twice blogged about this song without actually posting it, so now I can finally be done. This is one of the greatest party songs of all time. Try it at your next suaree.

"There Was a Time (live)" by JAMES BROWN: I was tempted to post about The Godfather of Soul around the time of his passing, but I know so many other blogs out there would have handled it better. In my own little way, posting this track is my tribute to Mr. Brown, who brought this white boy more than I think I can really comprehend. If you're looking for one of the greatest live albums ever and you already own Brown's Live at the Apollo (either volume, really), check out Say It Live and Loud, which documents the mindblowing 1968 Dallas concert where tonight's song comes from. I swear I'm not burying you under hyperbole. It's so good that thinking about it right now just gave me goosebumps.

"Race Against Time" by PUBLIC ENEMY: This song was a highlight from a later period (and not very good) Public Enemy record, but it was always a hit between myself and a few close friends. Growing up, I was a huge Public Enemy fan, laregely because they pretty much legitimized hip-hop for anyone who doubted its sincerity, message or power. "Race Against Time" was, for me, their last Great song.

"Grown Men Don't Fall in the River, Just Like That" by LIARS: I had bought, burned and sold the Liars' They Threw Us All in a Trench and Stuck a Monument on Top before I ever heard a single note. It would be a year before it made its way into Matt's computer, and this song jumped right out of that little digital box and punched me in my soggy gut. A great tune for a subway ride, and the people around you who hear this coming out of your headphones will think you're absolutely insane.

"Trouble Everyday" by FRANK ZAPPA: I mentioned incendiary lyrics the other day when I was writing about the Dicks' "Dicks Hate the Police." This paranoid, angry pre-hip hop rant from Frank Zappa is the grandaddy of incendiary. "You know people, I'm not black but there's a whole lots of times I wish I could say I'm not white."

"Dissect" by the JON SPENCER BLUES EXPLOSION: Orange was an album that pretty much carried me through college. I literally wore out my CD, and ownly had the vinyl version by the time I'd moved to Delaware. I finally got to relive its greatness as I darted through Chicago traffic, listening to Matt's digitized copy. It takes a special frontman to pull off yelling "FANTASTIC!" during one of your band's breakdowns, and Jon Spencer is that frontman.

"Lowest Part is Free!"
"Freezing Point" by ARCHERS OF LOAF: The Archers have got to be one of the most overlooked, greatest rock bands - indie or otherwise - to never have a real hit. "Lowest Part is Free!" pretty much speaks to frontman Eric Bachmann's realization that they will never be on the radio or playing stadiums. "Freezing Point" feels like the comedown after that realization. These two songs are paired together on the band's The Greatest of All Time EP, and they should really never be separated. It's pretty much a rule of the mix tape that you never put two songs by the same artist back-to-back, but "Lowest Part / Freezing Point" presents an exception.

"Ohio" by DAMIEN JURADO: This one broke my heart every time it popped up on my lonely walks, but I kept going back to it regardless. It always made me think about all the people I regularly disregarded or ignored, using my headphones to avoid humanity as much as I used them to wryly observe it. The opening lines alone, "Out from my window, across from the city / I have what's considered a good view / Two blocks from the subway, three from the fountain / I walk to break in my new shoes," as vague as they might be, struck me in my situation.

"Brakhage" by STEREOLAB: When you've found yourself rationing $4 a day for food to survive, hearing the repeated lyric "We need too damn many things / to keep our dazed lives going" becomes a sort of mantra. If you're ever bordering on homelessness in Chicago, give me a ring and I'll show you how to get by on hot dogs, noodles and dollar beers. I had even found a bar with a jukebox that gave you 11 songs for a dollar!

"The Cedar Room" by DOVES: For walking around among skyscrapers and dark alleys, there is no better song than "The Cedar Room." God only knows how many miles I pounded out of my sneakers listening to this song, biting my lip as I tried not to sing along as loud as I could.

"Sunset Coming On" by MALI MUSIC: Coming home music. The sun would begin to drop down behind those tall buildings and I knew I'd have to get back, by train or foot, before the temperature dropped significantly. Back to my roommates, take-out thai food, bad television and good conversation. I was poor in a strange world, but I had a great time.

"Love" and "Hate"

It's Valentine's Day.

And really, that's pretty much all I have to say on the matter. I was going to compile a dozen or so love songs and then pair them off with a dozen or so songs for the jilted hearts out there in the world who spend days like today biting their lip and trying not to look like Public Display of Affection Day bothers them.

Personally (and this will surprise no one who knows me), I'm not a big fan of Valentine's Day. Not because I disagree with the sentiments that come with it, but because I think it's silly to have a day where people treat other people the way they should treat them all of the time. Sure, chocolate is tasty, but do you really need Godiva one day a year to get that point across?

Just turn on your TV if you want a tribute to Valentine's Day. You'll find hundreds of lingerie commercials, "very special episodes" of your favorite sitcoms, and more guilt inducing ads for diamonds than you can bribe with a dozen roses.

For the rest of us, there is rock:

"Our Love Will Still be There" by THE TROGGS
"Our Love Will Still be There" by THE FLUID:
When I was a freshman in high school, my friend Brian and I both had a deep love for all things related to the Sub Pop record label. The label had two compilation albums in particular (The Grunge Years and Sub Pop 200, to be precise) that saw as our Bible, our guide to the bands we should be looking into. These albums featured early tracks from bands we would go on to love, like the Screaming Trees, Mudhoney and Nirvana. One band featured on both of those compilations was The Fluid, who showed promise with a decent song on each CD. As Brian soon found after ordering the band's debut EP and first album (paired together on the Glue/Roadmouth CD), The Fluid had already shot their load on those compilation tracks. The first song on the CD, "Our Love Will Still be There," was luckily worth the price of admission.

For years, Brian and I would be left to wonder how a mediocre band could have one great song like "Our Love Will Still be There." It was a complete mystery until the night of my 31st birthday two weeks ago, when my friend Mike made me a mix that featured the original version of "Our Love Will Still be There," performed by British garage rockers (who had a massive hit with "Wild Thing") The Troggs. Only a real music geek can relate to the feeling you get when you get scooped on one of your favorite songs, especially when you find out that song has been in existence for decades. The Troggs version is great, with a huge rolling bassline and a lazy pace. It even served to make The Fluid's take that much cooler, knowing now how they changed it to fit their own sound.

On that same mix from Mike was another revelation:

"Dicks Hate the Police"by DICKS
"Hate the Police" by MUDHONEY:
Once again, it was news to me that Mudhoney's classic "Hate the Police," one of my all time favorite anti-authority anthems, was a cover (I'm sure I could have avoided all of this by maybe reading my liner notes more closely). "Hate the Police" always seemed incredibly incendiary to me, with Mark Arm's screeching vocals handling the point of view of a typical meatheaded, violent, racist cop ("Daddy daddy daddy / Proud of your son / Got himself a good job / Killing niggers and Mexicans"). Now dial the clock back another decade and imagine how hair raising Gary Floyd's lyrics would have been in Reagan's America. That's hardcore in every sense of the word.

I love a good surprise, and I love music.

Happy Love Day, everyone.

XOXOXO


BONUS ROSES (from Sub Pop 200 and The Grunge Years):

"Tomorrow"
"Is it Day I'm Seeing?" by THE FLUID

"The Rose" by MUDHONEY