it's in me to sing

I haven't written about cooking in a long time, but I just made a very lovely salad that I don't want to forget.

Grilled chicken (6 strips, marinated in balsamic vinegar, olive oil, herbes de Provence)
Goat cheese (small log, with garlic and herbs)
radish (1 large, thin and thick sliced)
cucumber (1 medium, sliced)
romaine (1 head, chopped)
vinaigrette (balsamic vinegar, apple cider vinegar, orange juice, olive oil, salt, pepper, herbes de Provence)

This made two big dinner salads, and they were pretty fantastic.

I had to eat up early to get to work - it's VMAs night! Oh, just kidding. (About the working, not about it being VMAs night.) While the first VMAs that you don't work on are a big deal, the second are almost negligible. I will watch, because I always do and because I expect interesting things from Russell Brand. Tomorrow morning, I will check out all the magic made over at the MTV News site, salute its greatness and be grateful that I had nothing to do with it.

In other news, I love this song. It's by the Constantines, and it is everything that is great about the world:

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another hit I'll take on the chin

Sloan's new album, Parallel Play, came out yesterday. My pre-ordered copy is somewhere in the mail, but Yep Roc is nice and lets you download it as well as having a hard copy.

This morning, after spilling my coffee on my light blueish green shirt ("I'd call that seafoam," said a co-worker who shouldn't say things like "seafoam"), on my long, hot walk to the train, I listened to the album for the second time - first on headphones.

I wasn't going to be easy to please after this terrible coffee-spilling start to the day (and after being bitterly disappointed in Never Hear the End of It), but I clearly and officially really like this record. I have a couple of favorites right now, but I share with you "The Dogs." It's the longest and maybe the best.

Sloan are on tour now. I will see them next Friday (not Thursday. I have REM on Thursday), and I think you should too.

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I know you feel let down

There's a dog barking behind one of the houses. I like to think it is because I am singing this song out loud in my kitchen with the windows open and the little guy is singing along. Probably not though.

Anyway, I am going to keep singing it, because I got out of work on time which means I am alone in the house for a bit. Until I go off the deep end and start singing out loud on the subway, or magically become a decent enough singer that I will sing in the house in front of people, this is one of my few chances to go for it. Singing is good for the soul, you know.

Singing this (Long Way by The General Store) is excellent for the soul. Tam (and Lola, of course), I thank you for bringing this into my life lo many years ago.

Speaking of many years, today is 12 since I met Dollie. Whoa.

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seductive in small doses

Sometime last week or the week before, I got re-crushed on someone. Re-crushed is bad, worse than newly-crushed. With newly-crushed, there's a lot of learning to do, things to watch for, things to look up.

With re-crushed, there is all of that, plus all of the stuff I'd originally experienced/written/talked about to re-explore. In other words, I've been trolling my old online diaries and annoying the heck out of my friends by making them flesh out my remembrances.

It's bad, but it isn't on purpose. Something in my brain chemistry does this to me. I don't mean it. It's a sickness, for serious.

No one understands the disease quite like the Trash Can Sinatras, who have given us a completely exhilarating song about it -- good luck not getting caught up in it.

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I love this song the way I love the people I get re-crushed on. "Hayfever" takes me over, "Drowners"-style. The crush takes me over, "Drowners"-style. By the time the song is over, you (well, I) believe you've been on the best ride ever that was just short enough to leave you feeling cheated. I don't think I've ever listened to it just once. Repeat! I can't remember why my last crush on this boy ended (someone else moved in, I'd guess), but once clearly wasn't enough. Repeat!

If you really want to enjoy the song, don't dig too deep. It's pretty dark. Poor Harry. He's creepy, yeah, but oh can I relate. [Wo]men, germs, why can't a couple of tablets take care of both? I think Harry might be a maniacal stalker (at least in the lyrics I am finding online ... many of which I never knew or would have guessed) but I understand much of his ailment.

I also must note that the first time I heard this song it was featured on a Details magazine giveaway CD. I am old.

separate the girls from the boys

I was separated from the boys today at work. So, of course, I have taken to singing "North Dakota." Not because it's as dramatic as all that, but how many opportunities do I get to bust this one out (alone, in my own house.)

If you know, then you know. And if you don't, I'm here to help. (Click play, it will change you. And you could use a little change.)

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OK, everybody: Oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh oooh ooooh oooooh ....

If you're having a bad day, I highly recommend singing this song at top volume for an hour. It's totally working for me. Of course, it helps if you already know the song and are also drinking beer. It's even more fun to sing it at top volume in a booth at Flannery's (or at least it was, 10 years ago) while drinking beer, but I take what I can get these days.

Now, it's drinking a 24-oz Corona out of goblet (I am a classy lady) and pumping the Hermit on iTunes while putting off watching "American Idol." I am also trying to buy myself some stuff at Sephora (honestly, that Black Honey collection was made for me!) to blank the pain away, but the site is being a butt.

Anyway, I'm pretty sure it's the singing that's really cheering me up. Also of note, I typed "Dakota" into the search, so I get to sing "North Dakota" and the Stereophonics' "Dakota." It's like a dream, really. I bet you wish you were here.

good ideas do not fall out of thin air

Mike Viola is moving. He's off to Los Angeles in a couple of weeks, for a good long while, I'd imagine. (He does have a little girl and all. You don't want to uproot a kid a couple of times a year.)

I warned Dollie that she wasn't allowed to cry at Friday's farewell show, but I started myself during the second verse of like the third song. And then I stopped. And then I started again like 10 other times.

So this was supposed to be the post where I talk about the huge role Mike Viola's music has played in my life, how we've probably seen him live more than 100 times over the past 11 years, how he came to our house and sang "I Want It That Way" to a Ewan McGregor pillow (on camera!), how he's the first thing that Dollie and I discovered and adopted together, and probably one of the bigger reasons that Jane and Dollie became jane&dollie®

But then ... Mike said they'd be back for another run of shows in the fall. So when we said goodnight, I didn't cry. Six or seven months? I can handle six or seven months.

In the meantime, enjoy this. And keep September-November clear.

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maybe you'll understand me

On Friday night, at around 12:30AM (OK, I guess that's really Saturday morning), I had a very strange experience. My favorite musician at age seven (Marshall Crenshaw) and my favorite musician for the past 10 years now (Mike Viola) did a few songs together on stage.

They started out with the Crenshaw standard "Someday, Someway," and while that is probably not my favorite song of his, it's perfect in every way. The moment was, well, stupendously bizarre. In a good way.

And while I imagine a few dozen others felt exactly the same way (it's not a stretch that a Mike Viola fan would be a Marshall Crenshaw fan), it seemed like it was a special moment just for me.

I'd also imagine that everyone has heard "Someday, Someway" a billion times now, but maybe you haven't. You really should.

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I will come back soon and write more. Promise.

I can dish it out, but I can't take it

November has become a strange month for me. Two years ago in November, I went on a weekend trip to Florida to visit my grandfather, for what would be our final days together. He was really sick. While my Dad and I were there, we kind of knew it would be the last time. Of course we hoped it wouldn't, and we believed it wouldn't, but we knew it could be.

Last November, when I often flashed back to those last days, it wasn't surprising. It was a big deal (certainly the first time I spent with someone while knowing it was very possible that it would be the last), and it was only a year away. And I'm prone to flashing back on moments, not memories, really, just strange still images of places and feelings. Like a weirdo. But yeah, I'm having it again this year. Maybe I'll have it forever. Who can say? It's not disturbing or unpleasant. It's just kind of strange. Perhaps in a good way.

What this has to do with the following song is debatable. On one hand, nothing at all. But on the other, this album defined last winter for me, and that must count for something. It's everything that I love in a song. I should probably now explain how my favorite songs are either 2 minute perfect pop songs or 7 minute tempo-change epics, but you get the idea. Here's Limousine, from Brand New, which is apparently inspired by a true story of a horrible drunk driving death but is also about 900 other things as far as I can tell. It's glorious — tragic and soaring and heartbreaking and beautiful and so so so November.

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100 Greatest Songs - Exhibit 3

For Labor Day weekend, I present Mike O'Neill's "Andy" because it begins "Andy, the summer's over ..." Oh yes, and also because it's one of the greatest songs ever.

It's a simple little tune, this one. And I can't quite put my finger on why it's devastatingly brilliant, but I surely believe that it is, all 2 minutes and 30 seconds of it.

It has a bit of a dreamy sound to it — you're sort of floating along with him when he hits you with the "to think IT'S OVER!" at exactly the halfway point (genius). And it is certainly fun to sing (I've played it six times today and have belted out every last note along with Mr. O'Neill).

In all, it's a sigh of a song, mournful — about Andy (whoever that is), about time passing, about missing out on whatever it is that's right in front of you — in a tasteful way, with impressive restraint. Love it.

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when the seasons change we'll look ridiculous

I have had a worse season than this. Spring 1994 was hell on earth. Surely summer 2007 isn't that bad. But make no mistake, it is awful.

So in the interest of turning the beat around, I present "Summer's My Season," by Sloan. It's one long and dirgey play on words -- which would be painful, you'd think, but it's actually fantastic.

May it make the remaining weeks of this season bearable.

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100 Greatest Songs - Exhibit 2

Today, I present "Smothered in Hugs," because my sunshine fund is low and because it seems an appropriate send off for the lovely Matt Cullen.

I hated this song when I first heard it, along with everything on Bee Thousand, an album so painfully low-fi that it smacked of a rich kid slumming. Seriously, unless you're living in a cave and recording with rocks, there's no reason for an album to sound that bad.

But a musician whom I love and trust couldn't believe I didn't like the record. "Not even 'Smothered in Hugs?' " he asked. "You'd love that song."

Ugh. No. Why would I love that song?

So he sang the why for me right there.

"I believe you/ No need for further questioning/ I'm gonna leave with you/ You can teach me all you know."

Of course, he was right.

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I never thought I'd see the day when I'd put Guided by Voices on my 100 greatest list, but I made the decision a year or two ago, long after that big jerk opened my eyes. It took me time to admit it, but this song is something special.

100 Greatest Songs - Exhibit 1

As noted last week, I'm collecting songs that I have deemed among the greatest ever and posting them here for in no particular order. I do this for kicks, for posterity, to be productive and to share the love.

"Creep" by TLC

The greatness of this song inspires me to be greater. The chorus? Killer. The verses? Perfect. The breakdown? Transcendent. And the production? Whoa.

Just this morning, I was marveling over how clean the production is. I would have surgery in it. Tape the song off the radio onto an old Winger cassette single (after taping over the "do not tape over" holes, of course), leave it in a hot car for six months and play it on a boombox with blown speakers and the song still sounds pristine. It is that perfect.

But even more gorgeous that the trunk-tight (Oh yes, Fresh!) production is the song itself. I don't know how I lived without it until 1994. It makes my heart sing. It sounds like a miracle. Plus it is all T-Boz (AKA all cool -- Crazy, Sexy or Cool? There's no doubt what I'd pick) and redefines "astray" in a way that truly makes one go "hmm."

Perfect moments:

Yes, it's deadly from go, with the horn and the "Yes, it's me again." A minute in, you know exactly what's going on. You don't know how fun it is going to be to get there, but that's the magic.

1:54: I keep giving love until the day he pushes me away.

2:06 Whoo!

3:58 Oh I, Oh I, Oh I-high!

Listen up.

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everything's the way it should be, I suppose

Last night I saw Travis, just two weeks shy of 10 years since I first saw them (at Brownies. Yes, I'm awesome).

The show was great. I really like the new album quite a bit (and I've only really liked Good Feeling — which STILL holds up on a roadtrip — and The Man Who, so that's saying something), that Demetri Martin "Selfish Jean" video is far more entertaining live, and remembering to scream at Dougie's verse in "Turn" came right back to me like I last did it yesterday.

Plus they played two old timey songs for old timers like me, "Good Feeling" and "All I Want to Do Is Rock."

They didn't (and they wouldn't, but they have done — I have the November '97 setlist to prove) play "Hazy Shades of Gold," so I'll play that for you now. It's a B-side from 1997, featured on the "U 16 Girls" single. Because Travis keep putting out super light and poppy songs for your Nana (I love light and poppy songs and Nanas, of course), you might forget that they started out with a rock record. "Hazy Shades of Gold" is a good example of it.

It's rough and magical, and includes the gorgeous "Dougie, get back. DOUGIE! Get back! Thanks!" (at 1:07) moment (something about Fran needing to see the drummer during recording? I don't remember now, but I have our interview on tape somewhere). Someday, perhaps you'll see that. For now, instead, you can hear this.

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i just fall asleep because I'm not involved

There is nothing on TV and nothing I want to watch on the DVR. How boring. I mean, sure, I have about 90 other things to do, but I am exhausted. I wanted to watch very dumb TV and not think. I wish the "Human Giant" marathon was on again. I love that thing.

I have 19 more work days of work. That is so many.

To celebrate my freedom, I'm thinking Tortilla Flats bingo. Do they even do that anymore? Forgive me my ignorance, I haven't been in the general population in a good long time.

PS I have been keeping up with my MOGging vow of one song per day. For I rule. I don't know if I can do it this weekend since I won't be home. But love will find a way. Some man told me that once.

Speaking of some man, I picked some man to like, for it is May and I do that, plus it makes the time go faster (19 work days and all). But then he turned out to be too young, so we broke up. And by we, I do not mean we.

See, delirious.

In reality news, one of my all-time favorite people (two of my all-time favorite people, really) just bought a wonderful house. I am so happy about it! They are great and so is the house. Yay!

PPS: YAY!

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I'm after whatever the other life brings

Today we sat on the B61 for an hour each way to visit Red Hook and get key lime pies. Because when you think key limes, you think industrial waterfront NYC, right? Anyway, we ate these glorious swingles — mini pies dipped in chocolate, frozen on stick. Dreamy. We also bought a whole pie to bring home. Then we walked through Williamsburg (jeepers, so many annoying people) and I bought a new bag (Lucille Whales). There was walking and fresh air and sun. I loved it.

I'm continuing my quest to post and write about a song daily over at my MOG. Today's is Patti Smith's "Frederick." I won't post the song here because you probably already know it. The end.

HEY! la la la la

I need to post here more. I need here to be where I post all the things I've posted everywhere else. So I am going to start to do that in a big way, but first I will do it in a small way, and point out that I've updated my long-neglected Modern Log MOG, with a Sloan song and a heartwrenching tale. OK, not so much the second part.

SATURDAY UPDATE:

I am going to post a song a day over at the MOG site. (Yes, I suppose I could do that here, but they make it so much easier. Plus I get bonus bulldog photos. SCORE!) What a great idea, right? Today's is "Wall of Fire" by Peter Elkas. The story behind that is that he was in a band that I didn't like.

Oh look, I can sort of post it here! Only without the words.

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