Hi gang, this will be my first in what I’m sure will turn into a series of music recommendations. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m an avid — even rabid music fan, and like many music fans, I love nothing more than turning people on to new music. It doesn’t necessarily have to be “new” as in current — I’m equally happy to recommend something from the 70s as I am to recommend something current. That said, today’s recommendation is for an album that just came out!

Are you excited?! I am!!

OK, so I’m taking somewhat of a risk with this first recommendation. The band is pretty obscure and may also be somewhat of an acquired taste. That said, I love love love them! The band is Lambchop (not to be confused with Lambchop), an ensemble band that came out of Nashville in the 1990s (here is a link to their MySpace). They’ve been with Merge Records since 1993, and they’ve just released a live album recorded at XX Merge (XX Merge was a blowout for Merge’s twentieth anniversary as a label). This album opens with a mellow piece from the band’s first album, I Hope You’re Sitting Down/Jack’s Tulips, and contains tunes all the way through their most recent studio album, OH (Ohio). Lambchop’s live show is impressive (I saw them at SXSW in 2006), with the ensemble band, and their tunes really come to life — by the end of this disc, I guarantee you’ll be dancing!

Lambchop used to be somewhat associated with the alt country movement, which is best exemplified, IMHO, by bands like Uncle Tupelo (now two separate bands: Son Volt, which has stuck with the alt country thing, and Wilco, which has matured way beyond it), but I think the association had more to do with their being from Nashville than anything else — though with some of their earlier stuff, you can hear it more.

Lambchop’s music, like a lot of music I like, is not easily pigeonholed. Some of it is better classified as soul than country, though it is all extremely soulful — and it’s not country soul in the Dolly Parton/Jenny Lewis sense…it’s just….well, it’s hard to explain. I think of Lambchop as fall music, which is somewhat ironic for a band from Nashville.

Their singer, Kurt Wagner, not to be confused with Kurt Wagner, used to be a working stiff like the rest of us. So the story goes, he worked as a carpenter, installing and sanding down floors, even after the success of the band’s sixth album, Nixon, in 2000. Here is a great piece about Kurt and the band from a few years ago.

I was introduced to this band in 2004 when David Byrne, one of my favorite artists (I’m deliberate here in my use of that word) and the former frontman of Talking Heads, covered Lambchop’s “The Man Who Loved Beer” on his album Grown Backwards. For the Talking Heads fans among us, you will smile and enjoy Lambchop’s returning the favor around the 3:30 mark on the last tune on this live album (click here for video).

I hope you enjoyed this first music recommendation — it surely won’t be the last!

Music makes my day - heute hat das Motto in meinen Tag gepaßt wie selten.

Ausholend erzählt: ein Musikmagazin wird 20 (2009 scheint das Jahr der Musikzeitschrifts-Jubiläen zu sein…) und bringt neben dem regulären Heft ein Sonderausgabe mit Bonus-CD raus. Ein Interview auf ByteFM verfolgend beschließe ich, mir das Heft zu besorgen, scheitere als Gelegenheitskäufer aber am mageren Sortiment der Verkaufsstellen meines provinziellen Biotops. Hier bekommt man Käseblättchen, PC-Literatur, Bravo & Co und “Schöner Wohnen”-Magazine bis zum Abwinken, aber keine vernünftigen Musikzeitungen (“… haben wir aus dem Sortiment genommen, weil die keiner nachfragt” – hallo?!). Der Schreibwarenladenchef kennt mich und meine “exotischen” Anfragen inzwischen.
Statt also 40km in die Metropole zu fahren wähle ich die umweltschonende Methode und klopfe freundlich mailend bei der Redaktion an. Dort äußert man Verständis für die bedauernswerte Lage und verspricht Abhilfe. Meine Einzelbestellung gebe ich ab und überweise zügig den Kaufpreis. Und schaue täglich in den Briefkasten. Nach unglaublichen 14 Tagen (wär ich doch besser in die Metropole gefahren…) steckt endlich das ersehte Heft in meiner Post – und landet wegen Zeitmangel erst mal auf dem völlig überfüllten Wohnzimmertisch.

Es dauert noch drei weitere Tage, bis ich endlich zur Zeitung greife und die beiliegende CD den Weg in meinen Player findet. Während ich nebenbei meine ToDo-Liste abarbeite erwischt mich plötzlich ein Song – will meinen, ich lasse alles stehen und liegen, stehe gebannt vor den Boxen bis der Song verklingt. Wiederholungstaste! Der Song schleift ab da zwei Stunden nonstop durch.
Was da läuft? Das Stück ist 20 Jahre alt, erinnert mich irgendwie an gewisse Parties, damals ein Klassiker der neu aufkeimenden Gothik-Rock-Welle, deren Anhänger, genannt “Grufties” in schwarzen Mänteln, spitzen Schuhen und auftoupierten Haaren den frontalen Wiegeschritt für die Disko etablierten.
“This Corrosion” von der großen Platte der Sisters of Mercy “Floodland”, in der absolut berührenden Version von – ausgerechnet - Lambchop! Gegensätzlicher kann Musik kaum sein: elektronisch-bombastisch vs. instrumetal-entschleunigt. Ben Begriff “Cover” mag ich garnicht dazu setzen, weil das, was Kurt Wagner aus dem Stück gemacht hat in meinen Ohren vollkommen anders und um Längen besser klingt – als hätte ich es nie zuvor gehört: die Musik filigran, ruhig pulsierend, sparsam akzentuiert, die Stimme eher dezent und doch deutlich. Den Text hab ich füher auch nie wirklich beachtet!
Als würde man eine gute Flasche Wein aus dem Keller holen, die 20Jahre + 14 + 3 Tage gebraucht hat, lange gelagert und gut gereift ist, um in meinem Wohnzimmer zu landen. Ob das nun Wagners Leistung ist oder an dem Alterungsprozess meines Musikgeschmacks liegt?
Zum Wohl:

Lambchop veröffentliche “This Corrosion” 2002 auf dem Album “Lambchop Is A Woman”, die SOM veröffentlichten “Floodland” 1987.

Ach ja, das Musikmagazin heißt VISIONS und feierte Anfang November mit der 200.Ausgabe sein 20jähriges Bestehen. Ursprünglicher Kaufgrund war meine Neugier auf das Projekt Them Crooked Vultures (Dave Grohl – John Paul Jones – Josh Homme). Die Bonus-CD “All Areas” Vol.109 enthält eine temporeiche Mixtur: die deutschen Bands Madsen, Kettcar sind vetreten, Größen wie Foofighters, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, The Robocob Kraus, Dredg und eben auch das Stück von Lambchop

En liveinspelning med Lambchop kommer ut imorgon den 17 november på Merge (den 24/11 på CD). Den här spelningen gjordes på Merge´s 20-års jubileum med en 11-mans sättning, bestående av ett antal gitarrister, keybords, piano och en blåssektion.
Konsertfilmen ingår endast om men köper CDn eller den digitala utgåvan på Merge´s hemsida.

• Limited Edition CD + high definition QuickTime download (1280×720) of the concert film – $12.98 (CD preorders before November 24 will also receive an MP3 download code via email on November 17)
• MP3 + high definition QuickTime download (1280×720) of the concert film – $12.99 (Available November 17)
• MP3 + standard definition QuickTime download (400 × 225) of the concert film – $9.99 (Available November 17)

Här är en låt från spelningen, Give it

För mer info, Merge

Up with the people

Yes there comes a booming sound
It used to come from underground
Now it emenates
From a kind of welfare state
Of the soul
Yeah baby of the soul

And of the sweet sweet soul
Let’s be certain
Of the deliberate monologue
As sure as if it will fall
Across you
Unto you
Will most certainly leave the doing undone

Come on undone

And we are doing
And we are screwing
Up our lives today
What’s that we chanted
It’s this we planted
C’mon progeny

El “monólogo deliberado” – cuya representación habitual es, cómo no, las ruedas de prensa, con la pesada, ritual e inútil alternancia de entrevistado y periodistas – es transformado en un diálogo entre un cantante y el público levantándose. La propia canción, por otra parte, ya contiene una estructura dialógica: la voz del cantante y los coros.

La canción apareció en el album Nixon (2000). Parece ser que es una suerte de álbum conceptual, muy sui géneris, sobre la infancia de Kurt Wagner, líder de Lambchop, transcurrida durante la presidencia de Nixon. El título de esta canción, por ejemplo, “Up with the People”, está tomado de una organización juvenil de aquellos años. Y decía que parece ser un álbum conceptual porque resulta difícil saber si existe efectivamente una línea de continuidad entre las canciones del álbum: éstas parecen sobre todo una colección de recuerdos e impresiones deslavazados. Algo , por otra parte, característico de las letras de Wagner. El título serviría así para nombrar un determinado periodo histórico, si bien después las canciones se concentran en el nivel microhistórico, individual. No sé. Pero ahí queda la idea para algún grupo español: ¿Qué tal estaría hacer un disco titulado Felipe? O mejor todavía: Aznar.

Y aprovechando el vídeo de la canción, y el título del disco, y que el Pisuerga pasa por Valladolid, un breve comentario sobre Frost/Nixon.

Zizek, en su último libro, First as Tragedy, Then as Farce, al hilo de una de sus habituales digresiones, menciona la película. Hablando de la actual degradación de la política (ejemplificada en Berlusconi), se detiene un momento en la figura de Nixon. Para Zizek, el trigésimo séptimo presidente de los EEUU fue quizás el último político trágico, atrapado por sus propias convicciones, y consecuente con ellas hasta verse arrastrado al deshonor de la dimisión (es el único presidente estadounidense que ha dimitido). Poco después de él vino Reagan, que inauguraba un nuevo tipo de figura, un político mediático y cínico, capaz de cambiar de posición al menor golpe de viento.

Lo que Frost/Nixon captura, desde la aparente anécdota (las entrevistas que el periodista británico David Frost realizó a Nixon en 1977, y que el autor Peter Morgan convirtió en obra teatral) es un instante significativo de esa transición: aquella figura trágica se encuentra frente a frente con Frost, un presentador de talk-shows sensacionalistas, un tipo “aparentemente carente de toda cualidad” y que, por ello mismo, es considerado “uno de los hombres que definen nuestra época”, como le espeta Caroline, la amante de Frost, a éste cuando se conocen. Pero Frost tenía un talento, según se nos dice en la película: “entendía la televisión”. Y es precisamente esa comprensión del medio televisivo el que le llevará a intentar entrevistar a Nixon, tras verlo, en un momento de revelación, en una pantalla, subiendo al helicoptero presidencial que le llevará lejos de la Casa Blanca.

Así, como en una especie de Marat/Sade posmoderno, Frost/Nixon entrecruza dos trayectorias opuestas para reflexionar sobre la insustancialidad contemporánea, la imposibilidad de una figura trágica hoy en día. Nixon – interpretado por Frank Langella – dice en un momento de la película: “la televisión, con sus ‘zooms’, crea significados nuevos”. Unos significados nuevos que el ex-presidente ya no sabe como manipular, atado a una ética que está dejando de ser la de su tiempo. Tampoco sus colaboradores saben cómo hacerlo. El breve pero memorable papel de Kevin Bacon, por ejemplo: su inicial rechazo de la entrevista, y su posterior ilusión, “si la gente lo viera, cambiaría de opinión”. O la candidez con que Nixon se enfrenta a la entrevista, que concibe como un duelo de honor, la última oportunidad de redimirse ante el pueblo americano.

En fin, una película muy recomendable. Y que – ahora me doy cuenta – tras haber hablado de ella, y del poder de la televisión, confiere al vídeo de Lambchop una ironía bastante cruel. Sobre esas paradojas caminamos. Y si alguien se anima, que me ayude a pensar sobre ellas.

Terminamos con otro temazo, soulero y tranquilo, del Nixon de Lambchop, “Nashville Parent”:

Y me pregunto – otra paradoja, ahora en sentido contrario – si la nostalgia que todo el disco de Lambchop desprende no será de algo que se perdió entonces. Y no me refiero a Richard Nixon, obviamente.

the cemetery-architecture in helsinki-in case we die-2005

cinder and smoke-iron and wine-our endless numbered days-2004

chicago-sufjan stevens-illinoise-2005

dancing behind my eyelids-mum-go go smear the poison ivy-2007

dorothy parker blue-the real tuesday weld-the london book of the dead-2008

don’t ask-grizzly bear-horn of plenty-2005

float on-modest mouse-good news for people who love bad news-2004

first of the gang to die-morrissey,you are the quarry-2004

fire eye’d boy-broken social scene-2005

grumpus-lambchop-nixon-2000

After a slight delay, the Fancy Plans Guide to Rock and Roll has returned (slightly) with a handful of bands hot off the request line, which is located in your comment threads and ignored for long periods of time right here on this blog.

They say “All good things come to those who wait.” I really wish “they” would stop saying that. Enjoy.

Calexico spy an under-tipping diner.

Calexico
As Americans channeling Mexicans and distributed by Germans, Calexico are the “domestic” auto of indie rock. While probably (perhaps even fiercely) American, Calexico are the sum of their foreign-made “domestic” parts, often raising the ire of Lou Dobbs, who normally shows no interest in recorded music, domestic or otherwise.

Following a twisted path through Giant Sand and Friends of Dean Martinez (neé Martin), Calexico gathered up its mariachi leanings and headed for the welcoming climes of Germany, where they recorded their debut album. Due to a translation error and general German good-natured obtuseness, they were listed as “Spoke.”

Having had enough of this foreign bullshit (except for the mariachi stuff), Calexico returned home and re-issued their debut under the correct name. They continued to build their reputation as an “unavoidable” live band by annoying diners throughout Arizona with their flashmob mariachi-ing, often in support of other confrontational groups like Pavement and Lambchop (the latter of which often broke building capacity codes as soon as they entered the restaurant).

They further cemented their pristine indie rep (and swelled their tip jars) by performing with such alt.rock luminaries as Lisa Germano(!), Naim Amor(?) and Nancy Sinatra(!)(indie?).

Having conquered the all-important “street cafe” scene, Calexico went on to conquer NPR’s tastemakers with their multi-cultural blend of interstitial music, which meshed well with the give-and-take of various left-wing pundits. While definitely critical successes in the US, their popularity grows exponentially overseas, which would seem to indicate it is time for Calexico to haul their big-brimmed and sequined asses across the drink and return to the glory of being “big in Germany,” which has worked for so many “fringe” artists over the years.

3rd Place - Donnie Darko Lookalike Contest

Bright Eyes
The brainchild of indie wünderkind Conor Oberst (whose parents mysteriously shorted him an “n”), Bright Eyes burst out of the Omaha scene much the way that anyone bursts out of Omaha: by stumbling badly right out of the gates.

Critics responded to his debut album (the redundantly titled A Collection of Songs Written, Recorded and then Burned onto Round “Compact Discs” and Perhaps Recorded to the Occasional Cassette to be Listened to By Listeners with Stereos and Walkmans and Whatnot, Maybe in Their Car, But This is 1998 So Possibly a Cassette: 1995-1997) with everything from abuse (allmusic.com: “…unintelligible babblings of a child”) to confusion (Omaha Star: “Supposedly music, but I’ll take the remaining members of Journey at the State Fair any day of the week, even without their original singer…”).

Two years down the road Bright Eyes release Fever and Mirrors which is heralded by Pitchfork as “an instant classic, which nobody but us have ever heard of.” Metacritic hails them as “Pending. Still waiting on 5 reviews.” Their “improved” sound is chalked up to a more mature sound due to the addition of instruments such as flute, accordion, clavichord, sousaphone and Ouija board.

Pretension now safely on board and loaded with multi-instrumentalists, Bright Eyes break into the mainstream as a much-heralded “new” artist, despite being in existence for nearly seven years (sort of like adopting a “starter” child). With this celebrated status (and sudden change in tense two paragraphs ago), Oberst and co. begin to reap the perkiest fruit of their labor. Called upon to provide support for a Springsteen tour, Bright Eyes were afforded the opportunity to play to a much larger indifferent crowd when not carrying luggage for the “Boss.”

Soldiering on, periodically releasing an EP or actual album every six weeks or so, Bright Eyes continued to refine their twin powers: bedroom electronica (as displayed on Digital Stems and Seeds on an Electric Ladyland Dust Jacket) and their slightly creepier bedroom acoustical work, which features Oberst sitting on the edge of your bed for hours at a time, alternating between chugging PBR, strumming softly on his guitar and quietly watching you sleep.

Hull's mobsters ranged from "pasty" to "nerdy."

Housemartins
Straight outta Hull, the Housemartins were an English pop group with an infectious sound and a cheery outlook that combined Christianity with Karl Marx, thus ensuring complete rejection by both of their target audiences.

Formed by Paul Heaton and Stan Cullimore who originally performed as a busking duo, (Ed. – Oh. My. God.) the two friends went on to add a few more members in an effort to attract an audience that preferred its musical ambushes came from the hi-fi rather than Tube platforms or duck ponds. Their most notable addition was superstar DJ Fatboy Slim, who agreed to put down the records and cocaine and play some unobtrusive bass under his given name, Beats Int’l Mighy Dub Katz Pizzaman Freakpower Quentin Cook the BPA Norman Cook.

Having ensured their place in history with the addition of their most famous member (added bonus: free remixes for life!), the Housemartins released their biggest (and only) single to date: Happy Hour. The single shot to the top of the charts, aided by a popular claymation promo video featuring the British counterpart to the California Raisins: the Hull Prunes, who spent the entirety of the video doing very British things like “trainspotting” and “bitching about the dole.”

Their next single, Caravan of Love, enjoyed exactly one week at the number 1 spot before being shoved rudely aside by Jackie Wilson’s Reet Petite, which shows exactly what is both very right and very wrong with British musical tastes.

The single’s a cappella styling drew the ire of their biggest fans, prompting shouts of “Judas” during their completely unplugged gig at the Newport Folk Festival. Heaton was in turn prompted to stop the show and say, “Oh, so you’ve heard of him? Let me just take a moment of your time to give you the good news about Jesus H. Marx, who will free us from the twin oppressions of capitalism and rational thought. I would also like to address our growing trade deficit.”

The band split in 1988 but the members have remained friendly, often joining each other’s bowling/busking teams and dropping by while on holiday.

Axl often announced band firings through cleverly trimmed photos.

Guns N Roses
Formed by the common-law marriage of W. Axl Rose (born W. Oral Sex) and Tracii Guns (born Tracy Gunns), Guns N Roses tore apart the hard rock scene with their hard-charging riffs and dangerous behavior, the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the Rolling Stones still had their original guitarists and hips.

Perhaps one of the most important bands of ever (and your can drop “perhaps” if you throw “self” in front of “important”), GNR hit the fucking ground running with their debut full-length Appetite for Destruction. While the album itself was a hard-rock revelation, the album cover itself was much more memorable.

The original controversial cover, which featured the band members hanging around a stream in some sharp suits was met with complaints from record store owners, who refused to stock the “weak-ass nature bullshit” in the appropriate “Hard Rock” section.

After a hasty redesign, GNR presented Plan B, an album cover featuring them holding various doll parts whilst standing around in a butcher’s shoppe. Again resistance from record shop (or shoppe) owners was high, leading to threats of “brown bagging” the album due to its general “WTF-ness.” Various iterations were tried and rejected (naked prepubescent girl playing with a model, Slash surrounded by naked electric chicks, a naked 15-year-old hanging out at the park, someone smelling a glove, a robot rapist) before settling on the cover we all ended up with: a heavily stylized depiction of the band as a tattoo template.

As Appetite for Destruction took off, GNR toured tirelessly, inciting riots, destroying hotel rooms and, very occasionally, playing an entire set without storming off. As the band headed back into the studio for their followup, Axl decided GNR needed a new look. He issued a kilt to himself, a top hat to Slash and whiskey bottles and pink slips to the rest of the band. (Thus began the revolving door of GNR musicians, each of which Rose would herald as the band’s savior, until finally refining the group down to its only essential member: W. Axl Rose.)

In 1991, GNR released Use Your Illusion I and II, which was described as “bloated” (as double albums often are) and “mercenary” (as double albums packaged and sold as two distinct single albums often are). Both albums were chart toppers and featured several outstanding tracks, none of which I can think of off the top of my head other than November Rain, which clocked in a 8 hours and 56 seconds, often being the only video MTV had time to play between The Real World, Real World retrospectives and The Grind.

A rare shot from Rose's ill-fated foray into "faith healing."

After the release of the now-prerequisite covers album The Spaghetti Incident?, which featured a rundown of their purported influences, none of which they sounded like, W. Axl Rose headed back into the studio with the remaining band member(s) for the next 15 years.

Although Rose appeared sporadically to announce that the album was “just around the corner” and “fucking awesome,” the LP was not released until November of 2008. Problems began when it became apparent that there were few musicians willing to work with Rose, whom the press had affectionately dubbed “an egotistical maniac.” Holing up in L.A.’s Up My Own Ass studios, Rose issued the honorable threat that he would not release any more music until there was “democracy in China.”

After a decade or so of dicking around, Chinese officials (in conjunction with the independent bottlers of Dr. Pepper) began to call his bluff, beginning with a series of trade embargoes targeted at various takeout joints and dry cleaners in the Hollywood area. As the lack of pepper steak and freshly pressed shirts began to erode Rose’s willpower, China stepped up the pressure, stating that while W. Axl Rose had a “proven track record in the music industry,” they had the “willpower of over a billion oppressed people, most of whom have been forbidden to listen to your music,” adding “not to mention a fuckload of tanks.”

To save face (and the independent bottlers of Dr. Pepper), Rose released the poorly titled Chinese Democracy to rave reviews such as “That’s hard rock, alright…” (Spin, Nov. 2008), “Sounds like Rose’s trademark vocal stylings…” (Bill’s Record Blawg, Dec. 2008) and “We’ve had this album for years…” (thepiratebay.org).

Rose announced through personal assistant Sebastian Bach that Chinese Democracy was the first in a planned trilogy, with the follow ups due to be released in 2023 (“weather permitting”) and 2038 (“…at which point I will likely be dead”).

The Pirate Bay (piratebay.org) invites you to “beat the rush” and check out these two fine albums today.

-CLT

This might be the most pointless thing I’ve ever posted here, but then again it has many purposes in my own demented mind. Yes, I’m really just posting a song I like because I like it, but damn it I really like it. Yes, I’m posting a nostalgic video of the 2002 World Cup, but damn if that wasn’t one of the best games I’ve ever seen. Missed penalties, late goals, extra time, Hierro molesting Niall Quinn, tears of all varieties and Mark Kinsella… it had everything. So, thanks to a friend posting a video of the classic Ireland v Germany match (thanks Graham!), I ended up watching the video above. While it was on, my iTunes shuffle selection made an excellent choice.

MP3: Lambchop – Pre

Now, some of the commentary by the English lads on that video is pretty funny, in particular the line about buying a replica jersey, but I think this song accidentally fitted the narrative quite well. I was going to post both the video and a link to the song in response but found that “Pre” doesn’t seem to exist on the internet which is a terrible shame. Lambchop are a fantastically talented bunch whose downfall may be the sheer volume of music they produce. They’ve banged out more albums than Miroslav Klose’s scored headers, but they’ve still got an astounding collection of superb songs and their Aw C’mon/No, You C’mon double album would deserve a decent placing in any poncey end-of-decade best of list I’d make.

This track however seems to have slipped under most radars, which is a shame. Of course, it means I can feel as if I am doing it some sort of service by sending it back out into the stormy waters of the interweb on the back of my little rubber duck of a recommendation. It first appeared on a bonus disc version of Lambchop’s 2006 album Damage and subsequently turned up on a Foggy Notions magazine freebie and a free Drag City sampler, which is where I think I originally got it. Either way, it’s a beautiful instrumental piece in a similar vein to some of their soundtrack work but with a slow, bittersweet melody that perfectly soundtracks Matt Holland smacking it against the bar. Or you can take your pick of audio/video, what do I know? I know we’ll be needing another heartbreaking song for a montage in mid-November, that’s what.

So, the whole idea of this blog was to document my long and arduous struggle to find gainful employment in the USA post MBA graduation (DePaul University, Chicago). BUT stress-filled as the search proved to be I had little time or guilt-free moments that I could spend typing away about how it feels to be unemployed, at times feeling unemployable, plus that low-in-confidence-and-self-esteem-anxious-and-nauseous sensation.

I called it (500) Days of Lambchop because I saw (500) Days of Summer (great film – go rent it when it comes out on DVD) and had been spending my days at home with my dog Lambchop while I searched for jobs online (bad idea – go get networking jobseeker). I hoped that it wouldn’t take me 500 days to find a job but knew that Lambchop would keep me company and keep me from staying in all day, going insane, and taking it out on my beautiful and mega-supportive girlfriend Jenny. Thank you both!

Lambchop... a deep thinker...

Lambchop; the cutest Miniature-Poodle mix EVER!

Good news though! Yesterday I was offered a job! I won’t talk too much about it (not sure if I can?) but I am very happy too be starting on the 2nd of November at a growing company headquartered in Chicago. I think that it’s a great fit for me and I will have great growth potential there.

So, great news but that kinda ruins the blog right…? Wrong! As I have the time now (before the 2nd) I will be back-dating some of the stories, trials and tribulations as best I can to give this blog some meaty stories and hopefully give all you employed people a sense of how it feels for recent grads and inspire those still searching that if you stay positive and keep putting yourself out there something is bound to come

Best  of luck to you all!

La noticia me llegó a principios de semana por canales “extraoficiales”. Random House había decidido solucionar fuera de corte la demanda interpuesta por Michael Broadbent a causa del libro The Billionaire’s Vinegar, de Benjamin Wallace.

Decanter.com anunciaba en sus titulares del martes:  ”MIchael Broadbent gana caso de libelo por las ‘Botellas Jefferson’”.

Pues sí, el caso quedó a favor el veterano autor y subastador a quien yo he profesado gran respeto y admiración en otras épocas de mi vida, cuando era más impresionable. Pero en realidad hablar de “victorias”–y mucho más de “victorias aplastantes”–me parece un poquito cuestionable. Random House tomó una decisión de negocios y cedió para evitar tener que ir a las cortes. Cuestión de evaluar costos y optar por lo más barato. Ofrecieron disculpas a Michael Broadbent por cualquier inconveniente causado y se acordó que The Billionaire’s Vinegar no se publicará en el Reino Unido, donde fue radicada la demanda original de Broadbent.

La abogada de Broadbent explicó la naturaleza de las alegadas injurias a su cliente del siguiente modo:

El libro hace alegatos que sugieren que el Sr. Broadbent se comportó  de manera no profesional en la forma en que subastó algunas de esas botellas, y que su relación y negocios con Hardy Rodenstock, quien descubrió la colección original [que contenía las famosas "Botellas Jefferson" falsas] se sospechaba que podía ser impropia.” (De Decanter.com; mi traducción)

Por su parte, Benjamis Wallace, autor del libro, publicó en exclusiva en Dr. Vino una carta explicando su posición sobre el caso. “Nunca fuí demandado personalmente por el Sr. Broadbent y no tomé parte del acuerdo y las disculpas negociadas por ‘este y Random House”, dice (mi traducción).

¿Yo qué les voy a contar? En realidad sigo estando de parte de Benjamin Wallace y considero excepcional su libro. The Billionaire’s Vinegar se lee como uan trama detectivesca, pero al final es una profunda reflexión sobre algunos de los aspectos más terribles de la cultureta del vino en el último par de décadas. Como lo hiciera alguien en un comentario al post de Dr. Vino, sinceramente le deseo suerte al Sr. Broadbent en la misión de rescatar lo que quede de su legado. No creo que tenga culpa alguna Benjamin Wallace, quien solamente narraba magistralmente los hechos. Los negocios con Hardy Rodenstock, aunque Broadbent los hiciese con toda la inocencia y buena fe del mundo, al final lo embarraron. Y el embarre, tristemente siempre e injustamente a veces, trae su factura.

Michael Broadbent es posible que se dejara llevar por el entusiasmo cuando lo de las “Botellas Jefferson”. Es posible que fuese engañado en un timo elaboradísimo. Uno puede especular en cualquier dirección. Para mí la lección que queda es que en la cultureta del vino, esta fulgurante hoguera de vanidades, aspiraciones sociales, chulería, cogebobos y mentecatez, hay que andar muy al loro. La ingenuidad y su prima la credulidad son mala compañía en este medio, especialmente para el amante honesto del vino. Hemos llegado a un punto en el que más vale, para que no le pase a uno lo que a Michael Broadbent con Hardy Rodenstock (por poner sólo uno de montones de ejemplos posibles), no fiarse de nada ni nadie hasta verificar exactamente de que va.

¿El futuro del vino? Ni idea. Pero el pasado reciente y el presente son un asquito. Cada día surge un fraude nuevo, se levanta una nueva nube de especulación y sospecha sobre tal o cual escarceo o choriceo. Los medios especializados en este tema que tanto nos apasiona parecen todos estar vendidos al mejor postor. A los que no estamos aquí siguiendo ninguna frívola moda, ni pretendiendo lucrarnos, ni buscando nada más que no sea el disfrute profundo de una cultura rica y milenaria, todo esto nos parte el alma.

Lo que me lleva al tema que tanto tiempo nos ha estado ocupando en recientes semanas. Sí, ha sido responsable de un aumento en el tráfico de este blog la cobertura que he dado al “Affaire Campo” y a los tejemanejes en torno a Wine Future Rioja 09. Hay mucha gente fascinada por el asunto, aunque pocos se atreven a derramar sus opiniones sobre él en público. Menos aún son los dispuestos a investigar el caso a fondo, buscando la verdad, sea cual sea. Y algunos te dicen tener evidencia, pero se la guardan “para defender el pellejo y no cerrarse puertas, que la cosa está muy mala”.

Mierda.

Yo ya llevo tiempo con una retahila de preguntas sin respuesta (comenzando por aquella sincera pregunta a Javier Arauz sobre los estudios médicos de Pancho Campo, que sigue sin responder; buscas “Dr. Francisco Campo” en Google y no te sale mucho más que alguna cuasialmodovaresca coincidencia pretérita del nombre, publicada en El País en 1983 con relación a algún anestesiólogo chileno con Mercedes Benz en Barcelona). Llevo tiempo manteniendo toda la ecuanimidad que me es posible, dejando que vaya cayendo la evidencia por sí sola y encendiendo sobre ella la luz que tengo a mi disposición. Pero todo esto parece ser un caso de empeñarse en alumbrar a quienes insisten en andar a oscuras, tenga eso las consecuencias que tenga. Labor quijotesca. Cosa de locos.

Es por eso que he decidido finalmente decir “A otra cosa, mariposa”. Si surge evidencia concreta que inculpe o exculpe a alguien, que me llamen, me la enseñen y entonces comentaré, pero mientras tanto quisiera que estas páginas recobrasen un ritmo menos frenético. Quisiera, fuera de la industria del vino y sus trapicheos (que, dicho sea de paso, rarísimas veces han creado nada que yo remotamente desee beber, pero sí dan mucho de que hablar con lo que pretenden llamar “vino”), encontrar otro ritmo, otro flow.

¿Les conté que la gente detrás de Twitter va a sacar un vino?  El vino “Marca Twitter” se elaborará en asociación con Crushpad, una firma vinificadora de San Francisco. Ayer en CNN comentaban que costaría US$20 la botella, una sustancial porción de lo cual irá a beneficio de Room to Read, un fondo de alfabetización infantil. La presentadora del programa añadió, de repente, “Por US$20 deberá ser bueno, ¿no?” Su compañero en cámara se encogió de hombros.

La otra botella aún no está en Twitter. Me basta con esto y con Facebook, la verdad. Pero el diablo son las cosas. Va y un día me tientan. No creo que sea con vino…

Y ya, Final feliz con videito musical de Lambchop, que va muy bien con el discurrir de este viernes:

This weekend I volunteered at the Southern Festival of Books in Nashville. I worked all day Sunday at the author signing colonnade and met a handful of different authors who came through. Some of the authors I met included Stuart Woods, Josh Weil, Silas House, Michael Sims, Kimberla Lawson Roby, and Wayne White.

I didn’t realize who Wayne White was until I arrived at my shift and saw one of his paintings and a small write-up on the front page of the Nashville Scene. White was the production designer on Pee Wee’s Playhouse and won three Emmy awards for set and puppet design. White also provided some of the character voices on the show including Randy, Dirty Dog, and Mr. Kite.

White also did work on The Weird Al Show and Beakman’s World. He also did the art direction on Peter Gabriel’s “Big Time” music video and the Smashing Pumpkin’s “Tonight, Tonight.”

I was familiar with all of White’s television work (I just didn’t know it), but I wasn’t familiar with his art. Well, mostly. White provided the cover art for Lambchop’s album, Nixon. According to Wikipedia, White has apparently contributed art to four Lambchop albums.

White has several paintings similar to the Nixon one. He adds accrylic 3-D text to cheap lithographs he finds in thrift stores. The result is pretty amazing.

White was at the festival signing a book that collects his art from early illustrations and sketches to the giant text paintings. It’s called Wayne White: Maybe Now I’ll Get the Respect I So Richly Deserve. Composed by Todd Oldham, the publisher describes it as “a comprehensive view of Wayne White’s oeuvre.” I really wanted to buy myself a copy for White to sign but it was $65. You can check out some of the art here.

Anyway, Wayne was one of the cooler authors in attendance on Sunday. He didn’t have a gigantic line backed up for his autograph, but I could tell the real fans of his work had made it out and were excited to meet the man. White spoke with each person that stepped up (for several minutes each), answered questions, and personlized each signing. I even noticed him doodling some character sketches next to where he wrote his message and name. I love it when people who do cool things are actually cool. I was definitely out of the loop on this one, but I love pop art and this was an excellent personal discovery. I’m excited to see where Wayne White goes next.

El jueves por la mañana estaremos Fer y yo camino de Londres. Como no creo que pueda actualizar el blog hasta el próximo lunes (seguiré actualizando por Twitter (adolf_ITO) y Facebook), os dejo para estos días de parada técnica una nueva recopilación.

En esta ocasión me apetecían temas lentos y no me he fijado especialmente en el estilo (ha quedado muy ecléctica), sino que me he dejado llevar, enlazando una canción tras otra. Como novedades, el Star Power de Sonic Youth en una nueva versión acústica y el Space Oddity de David Bowie en italiano (lo había incluido en otra recopilación, pero en esta ocasión está remasterizado digitalmente –el otro archivo es una transferencia directa de un LP antiguo–). Por lo demás, muchos temás clásicos, algunas versiones y, sobre todo, canciones a las que suelo recurrir con cierta asiduidad. Espero que la disfrutéis.

Haz clic en la imagen para descargar la recopilación.

Los cantantes y grupos que he seleccionado en esta ocasión son David Bowie, Sonic Youth, Arcade Fire, Lambchop, Suede, Pixies, Cocteau Twins, Paul Weller, John Butler Trio, Bright Eyes, Cowboy Junkies con John Prine, Elton John, Elvis Costello, Johnny Cash, Frank Black, Five For Fighting, John Hiatt, Cyndi Lauper con The Minus 5 y Aztec Camera.

AQUÍ tenéis el listado de temas.

P.D.: La foto que he utilizado de portada es un detalle de una escultura de la Alte Nationalgalerie de Berlín.

I’m a British male born in Runnymede on the 23^rd of April, 1982 to scouse[1] parents Hilary and Gary, a retired Science Teacher and retired Investment Banker respectively. I also have an older sister called Kathy who is a high ranking official in the world of Physiotherapy.

I now live in Oak Park, IL with my girlfriend Jenny and our miniature poodle Lambchop.

1st up New Order – Sub-Culture from Low-Life, one of my fave albums and songs.  Smart disco, with cool Hooky bass coming in at the end.

Screaming Trees – Back Together, a pretty boring album track from an album I don’t know that well. Production always terrible on there stuff, especially coming straight after the sublime sounds on the previous track.  This one good for a bit of a run.

This one starts really quite – with chirping crickets.  Bugs by Lambchop –  gotta love that voice when it kicks in.  Smooth countryfied song about bugs I spose. Nice long one to just walk to.  I don’t really know their stuff that well, but the voice and the sounds are pretty distinctive.

Oh no – nearly thought about skipping Chris De Burgh – Lady in Red.  What nauseating production, sounds like Enya keyboards.  I guess these sort of songs are popular for a reason – so familiar, like a fluffy puppy dog.  Was this used in a Gene Wilder movie? Enough – next!

Ah this one I could hardly hear even when I slowed the tready right down – Mouse on Mars – Port Dusk.  More ambient German electronica – gee they do this stuff well.  Sounds like a frog got in there – maybe from the Lambchop track.  Listening back to it now I can hear all the intricacies.  Never heard this before – don’t know the album Glam that well – oh, the drum and bassy glitchyness kicks in about half way through.

Sleepy Jackson – Vampire Racecourse.  Love this band – An Australian band I would love to see live.  They seemed so accomplished from the start. Like they had absorbed all the classic stuff.

More Merle Haggard – Frankie and Johnny.   More songs about pain, this one about a man doing you wrong and the woman taking revenge.  Nice getting to know Merle – he does seem like a true country legend.  Singin’ about hurtin’ and cheatin’ with a good deal of humour.

Radiohead – Bones from the 2nd album, which I don’t know that well and went back to after I realised they are fucking geniuses.  A lot of people have this band wrong – think they are pretentious talentless wankers. They may be pretentious wankers, but fuck are they talented.

So, the second installment done – took a few days to get back on.  Life and laziness intervened, but I did work a bit harder on the mill this time.  Got a couple of chances to run, which I do for a minute or two when a track is  moving along.  Strange how Merle came up again – always wonder about how random the iPod is.  I use it in between sessions on the mill, so it should be fairly random when I reset the shuffle anyway.

This week, more from the Times–an uplifting story for Rosh Hashanah and another article about World War Two music.

• World War Two veteran Max Fuchs remembers how he served as a cantor for the first Jewish services broadcast from Germany after Hitler’s defeat.  Fuchs sang at his New York City congregation’s Rosh Hashanah services this past weekend in honor of that Shabbat 65 years ago.  The article includes some clips of Fuchs singing.
• Dame Vera Lynn is topping the British charts–at age 92, no less–with a reissue of popular World War Two-era songs.  Nostalgia anyone?
• A new book on Merge Records (the label of early-90s indie band Superchunk and currently home to the Arcade Fire, the Magnetic Fields, Lambchop, Spoon and others) is out and one of the label execs/musicians talks about the music business and what it takes for an indie band to succeed today.

Continuando a saga…

40. Hissing fauna, are you the destroyer? – Of Montreal (2007)

O oitavo álbum do Of Montreal soa como uma anomalia — para a banda, no underground desde 1996, e para o indie rock americano da geração 2000, que encontrou um ídolo ambíguo onde menos esperava. Mas, acima de tudo, o disco conta uma história extraordinária: depois de uma década inteira de psicodelia, Kevin Barnes chegou ao topo exatamente num dos momentos mais trágicos da vida. Transformar os dramas pessoais num cabaré multicolorido e afetado é, sim, um tipo de arte.

39. Fever to tell – Yeah Yeah Yeahs (2003)

A estreia do Yeah Yeah Yeahs pode ter decepcionado quem esperava a crueza do primeiro EP — ainda, na onda pós-punk do início da década, poucos outros discos soaram tão ásperos —, mas já deixava clara a inclinação pop do trio, que (ironicamente) acabou fazendo sucesso com a faixa mais delicada do álbum (Maps). Apesar das mutações que viriam a seguir, ainda soa como a síntese das ambições da banda: o diabo na carne de Karen O.

38. Twin cinema – The New Pornographers (2005)

Culpem o Canadá: o “novo rock” viu uma interessantíssima queda de braço entre Nova York e Vancouver, sem vencedores. A liga dos super-heróis canadense atendeu por New Pornographers, uma superbanda de power pop liderada por Carl Newman e fortalecida pelos golpes de Neko Case e Dan Bejar. Qualquer disco vale a pena, mas em Twin cinema a coletividade fala mais alto. E são tantas as pérolas que fica difícil escolher uma (The bleeding heart show?).

37. The Marshall Mathers LP – Eminem (2000)

Por alguns minutos, esqueça o Eminem entediado e oportunista que você conhece desde meados de 2005. No início da década, o rapper soava como um Andy Kaufman do hip hop (ou um Sacha Baron Cohen pré-Brüno). Depois de criar um curto-circuito entre a própria biografia e a ficção mais doentia (nessa brincadeira, acbaou processado pela própria mãe). O tempo maltratou Eminem, mas The Marshall Mathers LP fica: é um slasher movie narrado em primeira pessoa, hilariante e perturbador.

36. The woods – Sleater-Kinney (2005)

Um dos discos subestimados da década merece ser redescoberto o quanto antes: o canto de cisne do Sleater-Kinney é um cataclisma — e, de bônus, contém um dos grandes trabalhos de Dave Fridmann na produção (antes de diluir os próprios truques no disquinho superestimado do MGMT). O trio trata as influências de rock clássico com a falta de cerimônias com que encarava o punk rock. O resultado é tão furioso quanto enxuto: nenhum ruído é usado em vão — e haja ruído.

35. And then nothing turned itself inside-out – Yo La Tengo (2000)

Os discos mais acessíveis do Yo La Tengo são os mais diversificados, que soam como coletâneas de rock psicodélico do final dos anos 60. Não é o caso desta pequena e silenciosa obra-prima. que parece ter sido gravada à meia-luz numa noite de inverno. Uma coleção de baladas sobre amor e casamento, trata-se de um dos álbuns mais maduros e delicados gravados por uma banda de indie rock. Provavelmente soou como uma surpresa até para o próprio trio, que não fez nada igual depois.

34. Nixon – Lambchop (2000)

Quem tratava o Lambchop como uma banda de country alternativo foi obrigado a rever os conceitos depois de ouvir este Nixon, um álbum de soul music made in Nashville. Com arranjos cuidadosos de cordas e melodias etéreas que remetem a Van Dyke Parks, a banda cria sinfonias que revelam novos detalhes a cada audição. O clímax vem precocemente, com o coro gospel de Up with people — mas a maior revelação do disco é a voz de Kurt Wagner — o homem em queda.

33. Give up – The Postal Service (2003)

O único álbum do Postal Service é um acidente brilhante: Ben Gibbard (Death Cab for Cutie) e Jimmy Tamborello (Dntel) trocaram pedaços de canções pelo correio (daí o nome do projeto) e, quase sem querer, criaram um modelo para toda uma nova geração do lo-fi americano. Em tese, parece bobagem (sussurros confessionais sob eletrônica sutil), mas a simplicidade dos arranjos e o clima de intimidade sugerido pelas canções o transformam num disco singular (e um que eu levaria para uma ilha deserta).

32. Up the bracket – The Libertines (2002)

Preto no branco: este é o álbum britânico mais influente da década. A estreia do Libertines inspirou dezenas de bandas de garage rock, foi usada pela imprensa inglesa como uma espécie de termômetro para novidades e (apesar das semelhanças com os primeiros singles do Strokes, muito notadas à época do lançamento) vale como lembrança de que a banda de Londres já soou verdadeiramente como um quarteto. Dos grandes.

31. Silent shout – The Knife (2006)

Há arrepios no terceiro álbum do Portishead, mas o trem-fantasma mais eficiente da década é este “disco de horror” da dupla sueca The Knife. Com vocais distorcidos que se aproximam do grotesco, Karin Drejer Andersson (Fever Ray) e Olof Dreijer fizeram um disco que explora ambiente sombrios e surrealistas como uma versão dark para Alice no país das maravilhas. Ame-o ou deixe-o, mas é complicado negar a sensação de estranheza que ele provoca.

Hey, cocksucker! Yeah, you in the taco hat. I have some questions.

What happens if you try to rape a masochist? One of those chicks who like to be called whores (which is convenient, because that’s what I call them anyway) and held down? Would she report it, or would she start calling her friends to brag about how she got ass-fisted in a dark alley? As a rapist, would that kill the turgid loin roast? What if she was into it, but fought back like she wasn’t? Would it be like a challenge to make her sorry she ever wore that “Rape Me, Mister!” tank top? You could nail her tits to the top of a dumpster and lop off her toes with bolt cutters and make her eat them while you cut holes in her thighs and put your balls inside and jerk off. But there’s still a chance she’s a total pain slut and she’ll recount the whole thing on Facebook, talking about how “hawt” it was to almost bleed to death. My rule of thumb: if she cums, you’re not going to prison.

If poor countries are so good at growing chocolate and making clothes, why don’t we buy them and turn them into factories? They’re fucking poor. Offer them a black-and-white tv to put by the community well and they’ll be on our side. Give them something to do, pay them in rice, and we get the same shit we’re buying now, but without all the fees. If they’re really good, import them to the States to be hookers and waiters and let them send some extra rice home to their billions of cross-eyed cousins. Turn the rich countries into vacation destinations and let the poor here do stuff like serving hamburgers and refilling ATMs. The entire economy can be based on the fact that we kick ass and everyone wants to come here. It’s been working for fucking Europe for years!

If abstinence is so great, why do so many Catholics girls have herpes? I mean, I don’t have real statistics, but I’ve seen the sores. And isn’t it convenient that these chaste women tend to marry chaste men, so neither of them ever hear about how fucking terrible they are? That, or the men have been fucking around and can’t say anything because that would let the pussy out of the bag. Why are priests constantly getting caught with their cocks in some kid or teen or other guy’s wife (who’s probably just searching for an orgasm because her husband has to reference the encyclopedia to remember what he’s doing)? I’m just saying… Spread your legs at a frat kegger and you’re fucked once or twice, maybe six times at the most. Keep yourself in the dark until a four-inch “great father” comes along and you’re fucked forever.

If weed’s such a powerful and evil drug, why aren’t potheads shiving each other in dark alleys? If it’s so detrimental to life, how have smokers I know moved into managerial positions, gotten married and raised children? I’d rather be in an argument with someone who’s high than someone who’s drunk. The guy who’s drunk isn’t going to start laughing in the middle of a stare-down and invite me over to play Pac-Man. Some of the effects are similar: both pot and beer will get your cock sucked. Only if you’re drunk, you’ll pass out and puke in her hair. And alcohol hasn’t done shit for California’s budget. 500,000 acres of vineyard is fucking stupid. Let’s say 200 g per plant, divided by market cost, offset by weather and the derivative of the Nikkei index… Fuck. Well, this guy says about 24 million a year, per acre. Grapes can suck my independently wealthy asshole.

I have more questions… but I need to get some clit typing done. So you’ll just have to tune in to my new PBS special. They wouldn’t let me finish taping it because I “use foul language” and “bit the production designer’s nipple.” But I’ve spliced it together with some infrared horse porn and the pilot for my puppet-based series: Frannie Fetus and Me. (Think Lambchop with more placenta.) As soon as I can get eFukt to host it, I’ll post a link. These guys are so big on censorship…

Estaba preparando una recopilación para el blog, fundamentalmente de novedades, y se me ocurrió mirar qué disco había puesto hoy Fer en Don’t Eat The Yellow Snow: ¡¡me había pisado la idea!! Y lo peor era que coincidía en más de media docena de temas (por cierto, no os perdáis End Of Summer 2009, que es buenísima). Así que decidí darle otro enfoque a mi selección y, partiendo del estilo que más o menos tenían los temas que había seleccionado hasta ese momento, fui recomponiendo la recopilación con otras canciones.

Haz clic en la portada para descargar la recopilación

Al final, este es el resultado: DAYS, una recopilación de temas de David Bowie, Wiretree, Cowboy Junkies, Dinosaur Jr., Stephen Malkmus, The Sea And Cake, Beck, Eels, Willy DeVille, Sondre Lerche, Pete Yorn & Scarlett Johansson, Two Gallants, Brendan Benson, Richard Thompson, Frank Black, The Apples In Stereo, Matthew Sweet, Fanfarlo, Mark Olson, Rickie Lee Jones, Lambchop y Mark Mulcahy, en la que se mezclan temas actuales (ninguno coincide con los de la recopilación de Fer) y otros de unos pocos años atrás que espero os haga más agradable este fin de semana que se presenta con temperaturas un poquito más suaves.

Como siempre, haciendo clic en la portada del disco os podéis descargar las canciones y la carátula en pdf. Y AQUÍ tenéis el listado completo de los temas que incluye.

P.D.: La foto de la portada la hice ayer durante la visita a una obra en Cártama (Málaga), viaje que tambien aproveché para tomar un café con uno de los visitantes más asiduos de este blog.

If you ever wondered what music Yo La Tengo is into, read this New York Times interview with  Georgia Hubley and Ira Kaplan.

The answer: Kurt Vile, My Bloody Valentine, the Glands, ‘60 Brit band the Move, Miighty Flashlight and Lambchop.

Yo La heads back to Chicago in a couple of months, playing the Vic Oct. 6.

Freeway – Kurt Vile

Sometimes – My Bloody Valentine

Smuckers – Lambchop

I  guess if you spend enough time on the Internets you’ll eventually see everything.

As for all those skipped school recitals, family functions and little league games….now who looks like a dick?

This is Lambchop’s crackpot ”mom,” Shari Lewis…….

…………….Somebody hand me that sock puppet.

It’s been a long while since I listened to Lambchop properly. Yes, I got “OH (Ohio)”, and played it more than a few times, but years have passed since I last put “Nixon” or “Is A Woman” or even “What Another Man Spills” on.

I’d forgotten how good they were. Really, stunning, proper good, not that seems-good-for-a-while-until-the-novelty-wears-off good. Now, one day in the dark distant future I shall do a whole 1,000 word Pitchfork 500 Missing List spectacular on Lambchop, about why they are so fab and why everyone who doesn’t think so is wrong, but for now, I’ll leave you with a few old live tracks.

The Wondrous Mr Wagner Himself

Recorded at the Queen Elizabeth Hall in 2000, on their Nixon tour, these three songs show how wonderful a band they are. Gentle, richly textured songs, with more hidden depths than the Dale Hollow Lake, you find yourself drifting off into a world of strings, softly strummed guitars, horns, and a guy hitting a paint can with a torque wrench. Lovely.

In other news, hasn’t the football season come around quickly again? By the way, I have it on good authority that Mr Kurt Wagner is, as all the best people are, a Gooner.

MP3: Nashville Parent by Lambchop (Live)

MP3: The Old Gold Shoe by Lambchop (Live)

MP3: Theone by Lambchop (Live)

Buy Lambchop’s “Nixon” (CD) (And a right bargain)

Buy Lambchop’s “How I Quit Smoking” (CD)

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