First Day of Winter Jam

麵包超人 (アンパンマン) "ANPANMAN" the Azuki-Bean-Jam Bun Superman thanks to Spitzgogo_CHEN

Chicago's all like, "Whoaaa, happy winter, suckers!" It's -4 degrees outside with a wind chill of something negative ridiculous and I don't know why I live here. I would very much like to wear my bathing suit around (totally ignoring my chubs, duh) and lie down on beaches and climb hills and ride bikes and stuff when I get trapped like this in my apartment.

Twice As Much & Vashti Bunyan - The Coldest Night of the Year

This is easily the coldest day of the year and I am glad I don't have to be outside. Happy winter, friends. I was saving this song until the first day of winter. Maybe I manifested this horrid weather. Guys, I'm sorry. Mostly, I'm sorry that I missed the Muppet Christmas Special. Bless you, internet.

Done

College. For now.

What's up, post-collegiate life? It's been quiet.

I eff around on the drums at work on a semi-regular basis and let me tell you, I can't keep a beat to save my life, post-collegiate or otherwise, but it doesn't matter. Drum Kit is my new BFF.

Walking Music

Tonight's weather was perfect for walking. That is, if one's partial to rain and spritz and dry and spritz and oh hey rain, again. A scarf wrapped around mouth, chin, neck. Hat all snug. Gloves! Yes. Gloves. Black ones, simple.

Nico - These Days

When I'm aware that what I'm listening to reflects my life in a specific moment, it startles me. Sometimes, I put on something different. Sometimes, I keep it up.

Nina Simone - The Laziest Gal in Town

I bought a bottle of wine. Honestly? I'm pretty sure this is my first legal self-purchased bottle o' alcoholic grapes. I'm not a wino. More like a beer-o. My roommate pointed out that I am always drinking expensive beer. Not true. I buy the prettiest label with brand recognition and style preference at $10 or less. What class. But I mean, I drank Mickey's for the first time in years recently.

Election Night

I may be the only person I know in Chicago not at an election results party nor among the ridiculous masses downtown at Grant Park right now. I'm not partial to mass gatherings nor do I want to test the legalities of substance consumption in public (never mind that that's a shaky excuse to begin with given my track record with the booze and the sunshine and the outside...). It sure is a beaut of a night and let's hope for results that won't burn down Chicago.

Instead, I'm listening to Coltrane's Blue Train, drinking Bell's Oberon Ale, and reading Wallace Stevens out on my balcony, watching people wander in and out of the rec center turned polling place across the street. Every few Sundays, folks come for polka. It's incredibly charming. I really love my neighborhood. I mean, after a spontaneous bike ride to pick up some esoteric fruits and hot sesame oil in Uptown, and making a batch of scallion pancake, I wandered around the corner last night and got to see Tirra Lirra, Marnie Stern, and Gang Gang Dance, drink a couple of beers, and wander back to my apartment. I'm really excited for school to be over so I can follow these whims with more frequency.

Also, Marnie Stern is AMAZING. Look:

Things not to forget

You know how sometimes you'll hear a song for the first time in a long while and it strikes a certain chord that you didn't expect? I have been itching, dying, yearning to feel something lately that didn't throttle me into pure nostalgia. Then I put it on, for the first time in maybe two years.

Fiery Furnaces - Tropical Ice-Land (from EP, although, really, I meant to upload the one from Gallowbird's Bark)

I'll admit it. I like being sad. I have functioned a lot of my life feeling bad because, duh, I'm a first generation Asian American and much as I loathe to fall in the stereotype, here I am, sad as fuck, reeling from the fall out of some war that I can't even fathom that killed aunts and uncles and cousins and great-whatevers I never had a chance to know. Plus, I cry and talk now when I get nervous. Isn't that gross?

But this isn't about that (although everything is, I suppose). I listened to "Tropical Ice-Land" and I remembered how much fun I have listening to music. Poorly playing music now. Talking about music. Letting music plug up whatever organ it is that I've got a hole in. It's a beautiful song. A nonsensical, rambling, heartbreaking song that makes me smile and want to walk around outside alone or hit huge church bells with proportionally large mallets.

I don't mind this feeling. I like it, actually. I don't know what it is. Maybe it is bits of things. It doesn't matter what it is.

Maybe I've written about this song before. It seems like the thing I'd do.

Crunch crunch crunch

Hi, blog. Can't say that I've missed you, but I can say that I did see two excellent shows this weekend. Let me just say that Deerhoof is always, always good and Dead C surpassed my expectations, but you know what I thought both nights? Dang, I haven't had anything to say in that blog I neglect but if I did have something to say it would be how effing amazing music can be. Really. Truly. I love you, music. I love you, sometimes, blog.

Sweet jams.

I have been listening to Ladyhawke, like everyone else. It's true. Please don't judge me. I'm excited for the show. Gotta dance it out. JUST DANCE IT OUT. My two favorite tunes happen to be singles. WHO KNEW?!:

Crush boners.

Here's a pretty boy with an excellent song and the pretty intensifies when he hops out of his seat a little. Oh, you'll see. Gosh.



ILU, Miles Benjamin Anthony Robinson.

Wherein I write too much about myself and not enough about Joanna Newsom and the CSO

Relatively last minute, I was able to score amazing seats to see Joanna Newsom perform with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Roommate Tim and I sat on the main floor, center, second row after biking slowly (I was in a dress and shoes that clicked--yikes!) from the near-west side to downtown. I'd never seen the CSO nor I had ever been in the space and it's safe to assume that it was beautiful. The sound, the building, the hugeness of things. Everything was crisp and clear and I quickly drank a beer and sat down and had a throughly enjoyable time. Am I supposed to do anything other than gush? Her voice has gotten stronger and fuller and uuuhhhhh what else am I supposed to say other than it was so much better than I expected even though I expected total greatness? What does that become then? GREATNESS GREATNESS? Yes, let's settle on that.

The first half consisted of songs from Ys. And duh, of course it translated beautifully from record to stage because Van Dyke Parks is a genius and all of the musicians involved are terribly talented. Although there was no "danceploration" from the Drag City folks, it was particularly adorable when conductor Ryan Francesconi picked up an instrument part way through a song and kept his head bopping. Then intermission came, a break for fresh air, and more more more. I was and am still impressed by everyone. And have you seen Joanna Newsom live before? Talent. I mean, really, truly, even if you're not fond of her voice, it's a wonder that her hands move so and that she's still singing perfectly.

There was cute banter and overwhelming beautiful arrangements of songs that played a significant role in my life as Milk-Eyed Mender was one of the three most played albums during my stay in France (you know, one of those typical "coming-of-age" experiences because if I am anything at all, I am pretty normal).

My favorite song of the night? I don't know. I can't say. My favorite song from the second half? Maybe "Peach, Plum, Pear". Maybe not. Look, I can't choose! Here's a video from Brazil of a song that she also played on Friday night that's a contender for favorite:



If it's any indication to how the new album is shaping up, then gosh. Well, gosh. My goodness. I'm going to go melt somewhere now, thanks.

Lady parts.

I have girl parts. It's true. I am, in fact, a girl and I identify myself as a girl. Female, rather. Girl. Woman. Freaks me out having to delineate between the two because one day, you really stop being a girl and become a woman. Really. You stop being, you know, young. Where am I in that weird spectrum? I don't know. Britney knows. Britney is wise:



(hahaha, oh man, as if no one else has pulled this joke on the internet before...)

But yes! Clit Fest Chicago is this weekend and I urge everyone to attend a free workshop or go see some bands. I'm psyched on Witch Hunt; last I saw them was in our shared hometown of Philadelphia and I had just decided to move, really do it. It was a fucking riot of a good time. I was 17. I'm definitely not 17 anymore but I can still appreciate amazing things when it comes around. At least I hope so.

Little girl with the dirty ankles

Jonathan Richman - That Summer Feeling (from I, Jonathan)

This is my summer. Sorry for not writing; I meant, too. Of course, of course. I've done typical summer music Chicago things. Pitchfork Festival. Concerts in Grant and Millennium Parks. Shows at the Empty Bottle, Subterranean, The Hideout, sweaty basements, humid living rooms, and cluttered backyards. No Lollapalooza because I don't have, what, $240? to spend. This easily has been the best summer I've had in Chicago. It's been relatively quiet compared to most others--no foreign countries, no major trips, no life-shattering events, no cute boys--but it's been a beaut. The weather has been gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous here. General positivity is bizarre, never mind the occasional bouts of lameness.

Anyway, I just purchased tickets to see Joanna Newsom perform with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra on August 22. I'm excited. That should go without saying. I've been meaning to see the Symphony, to dress up, to grab a nice dinner before and a drink after. I also have amazing, amazing seats: Main Floor, Row B, seats 101 and 102.



Though, no friend to come with yet. Chances are, I'll be scrambling last minute to find a warm body to squeeze into the seat next to me. Oh well. I've sort of settled at the idea that maybe I should start buying single tickets for this sort of thing but haven't put it into practice yet.

Start Playing Music

You guys, I'm in love.

It's beautiful, isn't it? It's a Microkorg. But not just any Microkorg. It's the reverse key one. PRETTTTTYYYYY. Granted, I'm not really in a band (well...) and it's been some time since I've touched an instrument (that's what she said?) but look, I swear, if I had this beaut of a synth, my life would rule so hard. Now, if I had the heart to shell out a week's worth of pay to get my paws on one of 'em. Hmmm.

Chicago is not that far away.

There are three very obvious songs that come to mind when "Philadelphia" is thrown into the mix: Bruce Springsteen's "Streets of Philadelphia", Elton John's "Philadelphia Freedom", and Neil Young's "Philadelphia". I love them all though I probably love the city much more than any song possible. Of the three, Neil Young's is my favorite.

Extremely Out of It

Am I allowed to admit that I haven't been listening to music? To good music? To relevant music? Not too long ago, I religiously would check for new things to let pour through my headphones and speakers but now, now! Gosh. Did you know cilantro plants flower? Because mine are currently flowering and my tomatoes are coming in and who knew that it was at all possible to grow anything on a Chicago balcony in cheap terra cotta planters.

I've been listening to a lot of pop-punk from my youth. Embarrassing? I guess it should be, but it's not at all. Love it lots. I know all of the words to Saves the Day's "At Your Funeral".



Being preoccupied is okay. I shouldn't let this blog die, though, as I thoroughly enjoy writing in it. Well, here's to more posting. I leave for Philadelphia in a handful of hours; I'll be gone for a week and I have been floating quite a bit recently that I think this trip is muchly needed to ground me, to remind me that my life rules so hard instead of only occasionally ruling and being okay the rest of the time. I hope my tomatoes will be okay.

There Will Be A Picture of Scarlett Johansson Here When I Get Home

Today, I listened to the Scarlett Johansson album. You know the one. Tom Waits cover album? Yeah, well, look, I think she's hot. I am jealous that she's two-years-and-some months older than me and she's probably living THE LIFE. THE LIFE that involves making an album 'cause you want to, on a whim, with awesome people so that dowdy, homely, mildly adorable bloggers can blog about it at work and think, "Jeez, this is pretty terrible but that's okay because, obviously, she's having fun and she's hot." Good Lord. I want THE LIFE.

difficulties

It is not easy to update a blog without Internet access.

Oh my goodness, what have I been doing?

Well! Not updating my blog, obviously. For someone who sits in front of a computer all day at work and, you know, "writes", I'm pretty terrible at this. One thing I'm currently doing is a SECRET, but it's awesome and taking up loads of my time right now. It is a mildly musical endeavor. Mildly.

I've been busy! Busy eating. Jamie invited me to Minnie's with Jenn and Angela. Miniature food and good company is delightful. I was strangely social that night and promised to meet up with folks later on so I had to bail early. Pfffft, should've totally spent the rest of the night with the fabulous blog girls instead.

This isn't a food blog but a music blog so I will spare you the deets of how I spent the rest of my weekend at Veggie Bite. Basically. All weekend. Nom nom nom.

I did go to the CHIRP Record Fair this weekend. Formerly the WLUW Record Fair, it now benefits the Chicago Independent Radio Project, a much-needed endeavor. I was there for a while shifting through a surprising amount of Madness and Melanie. I should've made a list of stuff I wanted but came away with Leonard Cohen's Recent Songs, Talking Heads' 77 and More Songs About Buildings & Food, the soundtrack to Valley of the Dolls, and Television's Adventure. Nothing too exciting. I almost bought Harmonicats' Dolls Dolls Dolls just for sheer kitsch factor but even I refuse to pay $6 for kitsch. I wish I had the $$$ to pick up some of the amazing girl group, soul, and doo-wop 45s that were organized really, really well, but jeez louise, they were a bit on the pricey side. I want to be that dude when I grow up.

So that's that. Hi. Hello. I'll be back again. I had the day off today so I caught up on watching Top Chef, reading for fun, and indexing twenty years worth of poetry. Fun fun fun.

alcoholics like music, too.

Thanks, jasmined!


Smog - Drinking at the Dam

My favorite bar in Chicago is Danny's. This isn't groundbreaking or anything, potentially even embarrassing, but I've always had a good time and it's pretty close to my apartment. I particularly enjoy it for after-dinner drinks and conversation before it gets crowded and the music gets louder. I've kissed boys there and once, I swear, a DJ played The Clean.

how was your weekend?

Last night I went to the Empty Bottle (convenient, as it's spitting distance from my apartment) to see Magical, Beautiful; Brilliant Pebbles; and Black Moth Super Rainbow, and I don't really have much to say about it other than keep an eye out for Magical, Beautiful. Yeah, will you? Please do.



They sounded dreamy but not glazed-eyed dreamy. Full dreamy. Distinct dreamy. Maybe dreamy is not the right word. As for the sound in general at the Bottle? Muddy, maybe.

indie hip hop pop twee irony shut up

Have you heard of Yoome? Probably not. I found the above image on their Myspace page. Also, there's music there (what's up, music blog). It's really very good pop music--a tinge of melancholy and tongues situated firmly in cheek but with a sheen of (take a moment, wait for the word I'm going to choose next...) sincerity (bam! you thought I was going to say irony, right? Me too.) in these reality-inspired fictions and awkward but familiar sentiments that should make someone with a good ear and sense of humor laugh a small, self-contained chuckle. And I'm not saying this because I like everyone in the band. I actually listen to this project. "Whiskey and Peppermints" is my favorite.

I am fond of

Jonathan Richman - The Mixer (Men and Women Together)

Men-shaped men and not waif-men, I mean men who are broad-shouldered and will get wider in the gut when they age, men who are taller than me by miles, with thick swaths of grainy arm hair and salaried jobs. Overwhelming men.

Sonic Youth - Brave Men Run (In My Family)

But then not really. It's not always the case. The everything-else-shaped men, the ones that make my guts turn pleasantly with the quality of their thereness, I'm always too intimidated by them. I have to be smart and on-point and someone I like.

Liars - Grown Men Don't Fall In The River, Just Like That (from Fins to Make Us More Fish-like)

What I'm saying is that I never figured myself for the type of girl dudes and, well, men like, you know?

I swear, I will buy a new digital camera when I'm not broke

Thanks, Frangrit!

Beach Boys - Vega-tables

I made a delicious dinner that could've been enhanced with arugula. Alas, I don't know what happened to the baby arugula I had. Maybe I ate it. I made a penne pasta "salad" with shredded pomegranate-vanilla marinated chicken thighs, roasted garlic, sauteed mushrooms, and strawberries. I grated parmesan cheese on top and tossed in some cubed avocado because it was lying around and I will eat almost anything. Really good. Would've been better with arugula.

Geling Yan's The Sent Down Girl

I went to see Xiu Xiu last night at Reggie's. It was crowded. I was alone. I've been feeling pretty bad. I had a nice time. I drank a Strongbow, a High Life, and a PBR. Gross. Geling Yan received her MFA at the college I attend. She wrote a book. The book became a movie. The movie's name is pretty easy to figure out.

Here's the video for "I Do What I Want, When I Want".



During this song and all of the songs, I stood next to a boy who ended up in the same el car with me. He drank a something-and-coke or something boyish like that.

growing up is for babies

Blog, I’m having a hard time. I’m having a hard time embracing you and giving you the sweet, sweet loving that you need. I’m preoccupied with school, with projects that are actually happening, with filling up notebooks with story ideas and story bits and just stories, with a lot of “personal growth” type stuff and re-figuring out the person I am and what I want out of life and whom I want to be there for it (this was an extremely awkward sentence). Now more than ever, I’m listening to music, really listening to it and realizing that how I listen to music is almost as important as what it is I’m listening to, that the way I listen to an album with one person is drastically different than with someone else, and just a lot of bullshit that won’t matter when I’m dead.

Blood On the Wall - Lightning Song

The new Blood On the Wall is so good. SO GOOD. There are a lot of good things in the world.

young marble pants

Thanks inkswamp!
I have a thing for things twee and kitsch. It pains me to admit it but it's true. Tea cups. Books. Furniture. Give me the sweetest jangly indie pop in the world and though I may initially turn my nose away from it, I will secretly listen to it on a warm, sunny day (like Sunday!) and smile a lot like an idiot. Do things like buy a coffee table.

Never mind that Pants Yell! is a band name that rubs me the wrong way, the latest LP title is fantastic--Alison Statton. As in Young Marble Giants' Alison Statton. Colossal Youth. That's a brilliant band name and a great album. Other than !!! and Godspeed You! Black Emperor, I can't think of any other bands that deserve the audacity of having "!" in their name. Maybe some day I will be okay with frivolous punctuation marks.

Pants Yell! - Reject, Reject

What I love about this song is where it drops off for a bit at exactly the two-minute mark and then comes back in with a whiny twist. That's lovely. I also love all of their lyrics. Simple. Tongue-in-cheek. Reminds me of The Smiths and Belle and Sebastian and Beulah and you know, all of those bands that Pants Yell! sounds like, i.e. all of the stuff I listened to in my first year or two of college. What was I thinking?

I've got the fever.

Literally. I've been sick more this season than I've ever been in a very long time.

Here's a Youtube video of a song that I love from a band that I love.



Dengue Fever was featured on both Fresh Air and All Songs Considered recently. The Fresh Air episode is super good and highly recommended.

god, i really hope someone actually reads this one

I have a difficult time describing Dengue Fever to my friends partly because I understand what Chhom Nimol is singing and the style of music they're steeped in is what I grew up on. I can say something stupid like, "You know, it's psychedelic pop world music with an indie rock twist. Os Mutantes but Southeast-Asian and not overtly political and stuff. You probably won't like it." But that's bullshit.

Thanks, uh, Myspace!

I just can't remove myself from the music and approach it objectively to compare them to other bands in my limited knowledge. I don't want to try to yet. Plus, I would hope that my friends would love it, too.

For now, I can't articulate it other than this:

It is the sort of stuff that we had piles and piles of cassette tapes of in the car. This is sweat in the summer, and drinking neon green (because pink is lame) sugary, milky, watery drinks with ice cubes bobbing around in this genius piece of plastic wrapped around a straw and bound with a rubber band, and sticky rice, and papaya salads, and meat on sticks, and learning how to ride a bike that first time, and living in the city, and Catholic school. That's all kind of a mouthful and still doesn't approach what I mean. My (mostly middle class, white, suburban) friends grew up with the Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, or whatever it is that their parents loved. What did I have? I had Khmer Rock. (Oh, hi. I'm Cambodian.)


"I'm Sixteen"

My parents came to America, as kids, basically, in the '80s with other refugees thanks to something called a genocide. I don't often acknowledge that I'm a first generation American and that I learned America as my parents were going about it, too. That's really fucking stupid. I'm only realizing now that it's kind of bad ass, Amy Tan-esque implications and all (don't worry, I'm not a Genius Who OMG Hates My Mom So Much Why Am I Not White So I Fail At Being Awesome By Whining For Eight Billion Pages In Thinly Veiled Fictions That Bore Monica To Tears But Make Oprah Squint In Awe--my mom rules harder than your mom and I'm pretty average in the grand scheme of things but I accomplish vast levels of awesomeness and have no aspirations to make anyone squint in awe other than cute boys, to be humble about the matter(anyway, I get Ms. Tan and her work and her impact and blah blah blah I just wish I found it dynamic and, you know, interesting)). Pardon that digression.

Anyway. Music. Yeah. My parents, well, they kind of rule and kind of suck and I'm glad that they're my parents and they've shaped me into the lump of flesh that I am and blah blah blah. I used to resent that I didn't have the WASP youth of my friends but fuck, my parents have passed down a ridiculous sense of cool to me, if I've gotten anything else good from them other than a fierce temper and a thick head of curly hair. Also, life. Living is pretty boss.


"Sleepwalking Through the Mekong"

My father spent his late youth in Oklahoma smoking weed and rolling down hills, listening to Black Sabbath. I found this out at 16 when I severed the end of my thumb in the process of chopping up chocolate for brownies and listening to old tapes I found in the basement. This is not a long story. I didn't know about this until way too late; by then, I'd already established my taste and no prodding or poking could make me feel good for never having actively listened to the Beach Boys until I was a junior in high school. For all I knew, he didn't listen to music. And still doesn't.

Moms (yes, I call her "Moms") gave birth to me in her youth in Philadelphia and she listened (and still listens) to Top 40 and everything Cambodian she could get her hands on. I blame her for the tapes, for Sinn Sisamouth and Preap Sovath in my life and all of the people whose names I don't know but music I remember so well.

"Sober Driver"

And Moms's brother (my uncle because that's how that works) and their parents, i.e. my maternal grandparents, need some credit, too, for having karaoke on 24-7 and VHS tapes of concerts in Cambodia on heavy rotation. I went to Cambodia when I was 15 and had the oppurtunity to pause for a moment just outside of one of those insane concerts where everyone is so polite and enamored--you really have to see it to understand or maybe I just need to explain it some other time, who knows. Anyway, I was on the back of my cousin's motorbike and I don't remember what I was thinking. I'd be lying if it were something deep and profound; it was probably something along the lines of, "Holy shit, there are a lot of people here just to listen to music."

Thanks, ericrichardson!

This is getting all stream-of-consciousness (but not really because I've reread/barely edited this about sixteen times before finally pressing "publish post") and rambling and stupid so, yeah, what I wanted to say? I just wanted to say that I'm really psyched on going to see Dengue Fever at the Empty Bottle on Wednesday. Really, really psyched. I have a plethora of anecdotes and memories stored in my fat head and I can't wait to add Wednesday night to the list.

I Miss Being 20

The Smiths - Unhappy Birthday

Recently, I turned 21. I'm not one to cry but I've been crying like an idiot for the past few days and OMG, TMI. At the bar during my birthday celebration I heard some chick chirp, "Oh my god, TMI! TMI!"

Sufjan Stevens - Happy Birthday

I also read at my first proper public venue. It ruled. This happened on the night of my birthday.

Jens Lekman - Happy Birthday, Dear Friend Lisa

I share my birthday with Jens Lekman. What a QT, OMG, 4REAL. Whom am I kidding. Everyone is hideous and I feel like shit. I have a cold, too.

It soothes you, doesn't it, like a lick of ice cream

Oh, hi! I'm back, again. I was gone, again. In NYC! I think I am moving in a year or two. Big If. Big Ifs. None of that end-of-the-year business because, goodness, it's FEBRUARY and I'm not going to be 20 anymore very soon. Yikes.

Photo from avaloncm.
Thao With the Get Down Stay Down - Bag of Hammers

The safest music in the world. Not really. Springtime on a friend's open lawn and the charcoal's a-goin' and the corn is grilling and everyone is nice and vegan and goes to a liberal arts school or an ivy but we are fucking cool, man. WHY IS EVERYONE ALWAYS SO NICE?

ETA: Yes, this is the song you're probably looking for if you've found this page via Google.

Unsolved Mysteries

I don't mean to disappear but since I've been back in the Midwest, I've kicked up the productivity and alcohol-consumption levels and so have been bad with the updating of the blogs. Aside from conditioning my liver, I have a few random projects that are musically related but it's also time to refocus on writing as I graduate sooner rather than later (don't ask me for an exact day--I don't care to walk nor I do know exactly when The End is other than it is soon, May soon or August Soon or December soon but definitely 2008 soon...ought to figure that one out, huh?). Writing? Yup, that's what I do. Have to remember that. I'm going to the AWP conference at the end of the month and I have a couple of readings and other type things approaching that I'm not yet prepared for.

This is a music blog, right? Where's the music? Where's the beef? Why am I craving a burger? Shouldn't I have made lists of favorites and least favorites of 2k7? Why so many questions? Will I ever get around to writing consistently here?

(Belated 2007 blah blah blah coming soon. Really.)