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.