I'm late to the party, but I gotta talk about M.I.A.

At the close of 2007, it seemed that every music critic's top ten list had M.I.A. (the lovely Maya Arulpragasam) at either the top spot or close to it. I was confounded. I hadn't heard of M.I.A. before November or so and what I finally heard ("Boyz") was good but nothing particularly special to my ears.

Then I borrowed the disc from the library and played it once. It was cool enough. I liked it enough. But I still couldn't understand its effect on all of those music critics. I listened to it again. And again. By the weekend, M.I.A. was all I was listening to.

M.I.A. is nothing if not infectious to me. I'm reminded a bit of The Go! Team from time to time, but there's just something more raw and nasty here. Words like "guttural" and "primitive" come to mind. This girl Maya from Sri Lanka has a tight grip on whatever the hell it is she's trying to do. The drums and her cadence are at the same time both basic and inventive as hell.

Sasha Frere-Jones describes the music in the New Yorker: "The over-all effect is like what a politically minded class of fourth graders might do for a term project if they had access to a lot of electronic toys: joyous, spring-heeled, impatient, unafraid to speak out."

And now it excites me to no end that M.I.A. is coming to Nashville to play at City Hall on May 5. Tickets are pricey (for me) at twenty-seven bucks, so I may pass and just keep spinning the disc from home. If you go, tell me all about it.

Welcoming the 2008 Nashville Film Festival

The Nashville Film Festival (NaFF) starts next week and runs from the 17th to the 24th. I want like anything to attend but I'll be busy doing other things. Anyway, I'll pay as much attention to it as I can from online. Here's hoping that attendees blog about it and share all kinds of wonderful information from the event.

Meanwhile, I subscribe to Bill Marriott's blog and his latest post is about some short films presented by Ritz-Carlton and American Express. This ten-minute film focuses on a weary traveler checking into a Ritz-Carlton hotel. I like it.

Hey cyclists! Cross (dress) that bridge!!!

Of course, the bridge itself isn't exactly "open" yet, but that doesn't mean that you won't have a blast hanging with like minded folks who like to ride and drink Yazoo.

Official site: Cross Dressing The Bridge

h/t: Nashville Metblogs

East Nashville is west of me, and Southside Johnny plays Waits in my living room tonight.

The moon is high, I'm clocked out, at home, and shirtless in my quiet living room with Georgia sleeping next to me.

Southside Johnny's album of Tom Waits covers will be released soon. "Yesterday Is Here" is streaming at his site. It sounds oh so groovy.

Give it up for Southside Johnny.

h/t: The Eyeball Kid

She's all up in his grill.

Hearing sad country lyrics sung from my little guy is more than I care to take.

It's true that I've been listening to a lot of Caitlin Rose lately. What is also true is that the kids pay attention more than I know. The other day while cleaning up a bit around the house, I absentmindedly sang a line from her "One Speed Confessional" but stopped there not moving onto the rest of the chorus.

Me: "Well, I rode past your house two times..."

Four-year-old Joshua picked right up where I left off: "...And I don't care for quiet nights/'Cause quiet nights mean lonely nights to me."

I'm not sure if there's anything that sounds more sad and affecting than a child singing Townes Van Zant-like lyrics. I'll have to make a note to not play "He Stopped Loving Her Today" by George Jones when the kids are around. I don't think I could handle hearing my little guy sing that one.

On a related note, below is a video of him singing karaoke with his Nama a couple of Christmases ago. Big congrats to her. She was recently on an Alaskan cruise and took first place in the ship's big karaoke competition.

What do Luciano Pavarotti and Ashlee Simpson have in common?

They have both lip-synched performances that were advertised as live.

His fiction, my fact.

Oh, how I relate. One sentence in, and I know that this is a short story I'm supposed to read.

The Lie
by T. Coraghessan Boyle

I’d used up all my sick days and the two personal days they allowed us, but when the alarm went off and the baby started squalling and my wife threw back the covers to totter off to the bathroom
in a hobbled two-legged trot, I knew I wasn’t going in to work. ...click for the rest.

East of this is where I be.

I live just outside the reach of Google Street View. Makes me feel a bit like I'm living off the grid. Not really though. I'm all plugged in around here.

Prince's Hot Chicken: "It's a cleansing."

Clear approx. 8 min for this great, great, great mini-doc about local fave Prince's Hot Chicken.



h/t: Jill at Poetry Hut Blog

Sounds Like...

It's one in the morning and I should be sleeping. Of course, I'm listening to music instead.

The good people at KCRW just played a song I'd never heard before by an artist I wasn't formerly aware of. Gemma Hayes sang "This Is What You Do" and I felt a bit transfixed for a moment. I liked it a lot. It's really a beautiful tune. Throughout its trip from KCRW to laptop to ear buds to my ears, I kept thinking that she sounded like a female Matthew Ryan. I can't explain it more than that. I heard Matthew Ryan for the first time at Grimey's the other day and I don't know any of his songs. I just know that this song sounded a lot like one that he sang during that in-store performance that I liked so much. This song by Gemma Hayes had the same raspy-voiced delivery and something else I can't quite put my finger on. Whatever. I want more Gemma Hayes and more Matthew Ryan on my iPod.

Also... I made a rare stop on local radio tonight at 102.9 The Buzz and I got to hear the new Kid Rock song, "All Summer Long." I admit that it sounds pretty good, but it just ain't original at all. The whole thing walks that line between tribute and rip-off and I'm not sure where it does which. He sings of listening to "Sweet Home Alabama" as a kid and even throws in that song's famous guitar lick verbatim. That's tribute. His voice reminds me of John Mellencamp's, neither tribute nor rip-off, just a relaxed and raspy voice. Sounds good. The part that really bugs me however is most of the rest of it which sounds oh so much like "Werewolves of London." I don't own that fantastic Warren Zevon song so I can't give it a quick listen to compare and contrast. It's only memory I'm going on but it's been nagging at me all night. Is it just similar? Is it much closer than that? I always get confused about copyrights regarding songs.

Zevon fans (Kat Coble?), you hear it too, right? If you haven't heard it, go to KidRock.com and listen to "All Summer Long." I'm curious as to your thoughts.

Hug Your Doggie

The Joys of Buying Music from Real People

Walking back to my car this afternoon after buying Caitlin Rose's EP, it occurred to me how happy I was that it wasn't available on iTunes. Unable to click a button for instant download on my computer, I was forced out into the world to make said purchase. Once I arrived at Grimey's New & Preloved Music, I noticed how little available parking there was. Busy for a random Tuesday afternoon, I thought. Well, maybe not a random Tuesday. R.E.M. and Moby both had new releases today, but it still seemed like something more might be going on.

So I parked in a neighboring business's lot and made my way to my local record store's back entrance. Outside its doors on the porch, people were hanging out and talking. The temp was nice and seemed perfect for just that. Folks were killing some time and talking whatever (probably music) with friends, probably sipping Yazoo and enjoying the moment. Anyway, I made my way up the stairs and into the door to find quite the crowd of people gathered together waiting for live music to happen. Now all of the cars made sense, yet another free artist performance at Grimey's. Amidst the bins of record albums were fans of Nashville's own (since '93 anyway) Matthew Ryan.

I walked past the fellow music lovers, found Caitlin's CD, and paid my five bucks (worth every penny). Before leaving to finish my errands, I stuck around to hear Matthew Ryan sing a few songs. Every part of me was happy in the moment. I didn't know anyone and I made no connections with anyone there. Yet I felt more in place there right then than almost anywhere else I can think of.

Leaning against a CD bin, I thought about my current appreciation and the potential of such a social setting as this. With iTunes (which do I love), I could have had the music I wanted but I wouldn't have stumbled upon this beautiful live music. I wouldn't have shared physical space with people who probably share the same obsession regarding music as I do. iTunes robots can generate further recommendations for me depending on my purchase, but they can't match the joy of talking about an artist's work with the clerk behind the counter of the retail record store.

With their good prices, friendly and knowledgeable staff, and frequent free shows and events, Grimey's does it right. They don't just sell product. This is retail destination. I'm always reading about the fantastic live shows by recording artists, be they local or passing through. Check their photos page for a sample of the many in-store performances that have rewarded fans here over the past few years. With any luck, I'll have the 19th off to celebrate Record Store Day at Grimey's which coincides with their semi-annual Big-Ass Spring Festival and Outdoor Sale.

$400/month rent divided by 3 roommates = Nice

This is where I lived when my wife and I started dating. Nestled snugly between Murphy Road with its pubs and hip produce markets and Charlotte Avenue with some of Nashville's rougher individuals, it always made for an interesting walk around my neighborhood. Aside from the occasional person asking me if I could spare some money, I never really felt unsafe there.

Of course, I imagine Paige had her own opinions about her safety when she'd hang out there at night while I was still at work. I mean, there had to be a reason that all of the windows and doors had bars on them. It occurs to me now to wonder if she asked me to move in with her just because she never wanted to sleep alone there again.

"Bars on the windows
Bars on the doors
Hell, we even had bars on the floors."
- Dash Rip Rock

I'm really loving Google Street View Nashville. I wonder what other old haunts I'll think to look for.

My kids are NSFW

The kids are eating lunch peacefully together as I sit on the living room floor reading your blogs. They've been at each other all morning and I'm really enjoying this break from settling disputes over who gets to play with whose toy.

Now they're playfully jabbering away at a comfortable noise level and all is well. But... it suddenly occurs to me that there's a word I hear that should not be coming from their little mouths. I perk up to make sure I'm hearing what I think I'm hearing. "Dammit." Back and forth, they are repeating it to each other in the sweetest of voices. Crap. Time to get back to parenting.

Me: Hey! Kids...

Kids: What?

Me: Do not ever say that word. Where did you hear it?

Joshua: Nowhere.

Me: Um. No sir. You heard it somewhere. Otherwise you wouldn't know that word. Where?

Joshua: I heard it in my Ninja Turtles movie.

OK, I have no idea if this is possible. Did they utter that word in one of the Ninja Turtle movies? I just go back to a lecture about how they are not to say that word. Then his little sister pipes in.

Ari: I heard it on Dora.

Me: No you did not. I am absolutely sure that Dora would never say that. She is a good girl and good girls don't say that word.

Of course, I'm not so sure about Swiper though. I wouldn't put it past him.

Ugh. I don't know where they heard it. I'm sure I've been careless a time or two, but that's typically not my go-to cuss word. Mine's worse.

My wife however... ;)

Anyway, lunch is over, the bad word is behind us, and they're watching Dora quietly together.

I'm listening to every word.