Still at the end of every hard earned day people find some reason to believe

I'm not a religious person. My mom tried to raise a good little Hindu and for a while there, she did a pretty admirable job (still a vegetarian -- good job, Mom!). But then, I grew up and realized that matted hair can turn into a river just as easily as a guy can build a boat big enough for two of every species. I.E. - Not at all (Sorry, Mom).

I don't believe in one specific deity and honestly, think the whole 'one path to salvation' thing is a load of bollocks. Primarily because no-one knows for sure. Yes, there are books and scripture and angry men yelling on television but no-one has come back from the dead with irrefutable proof screaming, "No! No! Stop it! Tear down the churches, temples and mosques! We're all supposed to worship Xenu!"

A lack of belief in organized religion doesn't preclude me from having faith. I believe. Fervently. I believe in the concept of a soul. I believe that there is inherent good in almost everyone (yes, that includes utter shitbags like Glenn Beck and Michelle Malkin) and I believe in the power of music.

That last one especially.

Vonnegut, like he did with so many other things, hit the nail on the head when he said he wanted his epitaph to read: "The only proof he needed for the existence of God was music."

For the most part, scripture leaves me cold. Yes, some of it features pretty language as well as sage advice, but it doesn't really affect me. Not in any real way. Ditto religious ceremonies. They don't feel like I'm communing with the divine as much as it feels like I'm mechanically going through the motions and paying lip service.

But music? Live music, especially? Well, that's a different story. The rumble of a bassline as it snakes through the floor and into your body, the pounding volley of drums and the howl, moan, whisper, shriek and scream of the almighty electric guitar? It's the closest I've ever come to feeling even the remotest spark of the divine.

I saw Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band play the Philadelphia Spectrum last week. I've always liked Springsteen. He's a fantastic storyteller, a damn fine guitarist and one of the last few honorable men left standing in rock music.

I expected a great concert. Especially since the Spectrum (the first major venue Springsteen ever played) was being demolished before year's end.

What I didn't expect was to have this faith completely renewed and reinforced in one night.

I've seen countless musicians but none who perform with the unadulterated joy that Springsteen and E Street Band does.

I have yet to see any musician who seems to need the audience as much as Bruce. Not only does he thrive on performing, but it seems to sustain him. Performing seems to keep his heart pumping.

Being in the Spectrum that night amidst a sea of people -- all of whom were swaying, singing along and completely lost in the moment -- made me feel like I was part of something bigger and better than myself. Something brimming, if not damn near spilling over, with hope and the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

I'm not saying Springsteen is God. That honor is obviously reserved for Clapton, but what I am saying is that last week, I saw Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band in concert. And afterwards, I felt good. Filled with hope and goodwill towards my fellow man. A little more connected than I had been a mere three hours before.

I may never believe in scripture, learn a prayer by heart and actively participate in any sort of religious ceremony. But I believe in Bruce Springsteen and the potency of music...and for me, that's more than enough.

I hired a hot girl who can't lift an iPod to bring you out of your funk.

Dear Jaime:

Welcome to the 21st century!

Your purchase of an iPod (eye-pod) will hopefully encourage you to go to the gym more often, provide you with countless hours of entertainment while you spend your life waiting (in lines, for transportation...) and hopefully, help you lower your blood pressure as it will provide an alternative to listening to Sean Hannity during your afternoon commute.

Enjoy your birthday present to yourself and have fun making those playlists (you might want to reconsider the one entitled, 'Watch For Flying Panties.' Invariably, someone's going to see that and then, you're going to have explain things like how Howlin' Wolf is a big ol' bastard who could take your woman and people will think you're on the drugs and you're not....unless caffeine is considered a drug, which I guess it technically is and...look, whatever. Just think about it, ok? Right).

Lots of Love:

Me xx

P.S. -- Way to defy convention by picking yellow over pink. Bet they didn't see that coming!

"Rock 'n' roll can save the world"? "The chicks are great"? I sound like a dick!

Hey, I'm not the smartest guy in the world, but I'm certainly not the dumbest. I mean, I've read books like "The Unbearable Lightness of Being" and "Love in the Time of Cholera", and I think I've understood them. They're about girls, right? Just kidding. But I have to say my all-time favorite book is Johnny Cash's autobiography "Cash" by Johnny Cash -- Rob Gordon. High Fidelity.

I can relate. I've got a stack of rock (auto) biographies on my bookshelf -- Caught In The Crossfire (Stevie Ray Vaughan), Hammer of the Gods (Led Zeppelin), Ain't No Sin To Be Glad You're Alive and Glory Days (Bruce Springsteen), Aerosmith's autobiography and my most recent addition, Slash's autobiography.



I'm a bigger Slash fan than I am a GnR fan so I was looking forward to reading this book.

The book was pretty much par for the course -- Slash does drugs! Slash drinks Jack! Slash shreds the merciless fuck out of his Gibsons! Slash finds creating the world's most memorable guitar riffs preposterously easy! Slash thinks Axl is a control-obsessed douche!

Typical rock star bullshit. You hear about it with pretty much every band (except for the memorable guitar riffs being preposterously easy thing. Only Slash could have given the world the opening to Sweet Child O' Mine).

It got me thinking, though.

I used to have a thing for musicians. I'm not some obsessive who collects every single last piece of merchandise and my adoration was nothing close to the extent of Pamela Des Barres, Cynthia Plaster Caster or hell, even Penny Lane, Sapphire and Polexia (I realize they're fictional but just go with me here) but I totally bought into the Golden God myth.



I could justify it all -- the self-involvement, self-indulgence and self-importance.

Of course they had huge egos! Wouldn't you if you could make a guitar sob, moan and scream like that? Of course they trashed hotel rooms! They're trapped there for endless hours -- I mean, who wouldn't go insane? Of course they slept with groupies....and you know, not all groupies are like, whores. Some are muses who inspire the music that could save the world.

Yeah. I sounded like a dick.

So, I got a little older and a little smarter and you know what I realized?

If you take a second and step back and you strip away this glitter-dusted, whiskey-hazed view of them well....these Gods of Rock, these mystic shamen whose fingers of fury burned up fretboards, whose voices screamed and howled with thunderous sound and fury, whose bombastic drumming echoed like the hyperkinetic heartbeat of the universe?

They're men.

Flesh, blood and bone.

And like all men, they're fallible.

And like some men, they're actually pretty big assholes.

At the height of his fame, Jimmy Page slept with 14-year-old Lori Maddox. Steven Tyler became so completely besotted with a 14-year-old groupie that he convinced the girl's parents to sign a form making him her legal guardian. Ted Nugent did the same thing with a 17-year-old Hawaiian girl when he was 30 (note to Sean Hannity -- You might want to remember that when you take a break from fellating the guy for his right-wing viewpoints and sidebar? If The Nuge is all about the troops and pro-military, why didn't he enlist and serve his country during the Vietnam war? Something to think about).

The night before his wedding, Slash cheated on his fiance. Eric Clapton not only stole his best friend's wife but shagged her sister as well. Vince Neil drove drunk and killed one of his friends (and in a total fuckhole move, allowed the release of Music To Crash Your Car To -- a compilation of Crue songs. Seriously, Vince? Seriously?).

These are the guys I defended to the ends of the earth? Child molesters (a while back, Gary Glitter got in trouble for sleeping with underage girls. Instead of having the incident overlooked as part of the rock 'n roll lifestyle, he was classified formally - and rightfully so - as a sex offender. I'm not defending Glitter or his abominable actions. I'm just asking for accountability across the board. If Glitter's a sex offender, so are Ol' Pagey and the Demon of Screamin'), drunk drivers, adultering assholes who can't keep their pecker in their pants.

Your average, run-of-the-mill douchebags who you wouldn't want to be around if they weren't so musically gifted.

I'm not asking for perfection nor am I asking sinners to be saints. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm older, a little smarter and a little more experienced and while I'm still in love with the music, I've fallen out of love with the men who make it.

I'll save my hero worship for those who really deserve it.

The buttons and the pins and the loud fanfares

Jordan Knight's a total sleaze and Danny Wood still resembles The Missing Link, but damn it -- New Kids On The Block still rock my world.



Reason #14484653131364874631797913213 The Best Friend is my best friend -- In the same three minute span, he downloaded and emailed Tonight by New Kids On The Block for me and managed to call me, 'such an asshole' for a completely unrelated matter. Man, I miss my broseph.

The only proof she needed of the existence of God was music

And in that moment, we felt infinite....

OK, so I know you can't really feel 'infinite' and that Chobosky was merely grasping for a way to express the unabashed optimism and pure, unadulterated hope that suddenly ignites within you, but I get it. I've felt that way too. And every time I have, music was involved.

One of the things I remember most about West Palm is driving northbound on Jog late one night. Stars sprinkled like salt against a sapphire sky and Jimmy Eat World on the stereo. A Praise Chorus to be exact. Crimson and clover over and over and over and over. I don't know where I was going (based on geography, it must have been either downtown or to The Best Friend's place) and I have vague, hazy memories of my late teenage years in El Dub, but that one night is crystalline.

Flash forward a couple of years. I'm walking to my car after class. Past the fountain and past the construction trucks (We call it Under Construction Forever for a reason) when out of nowhere, the strains of My Girl by The Temptations fill the air. Clear and loud. Even though my love life at that time was lackluster to say the very least, I felt like I'd stumbled into some romantic comedy.

Cut to earlier this week. I'm driving to work, falling in love with blushing cherry blossoms and shocks of bright yellow and red tulips working their way out of the ground. Instead of listening to the inane morning DJ chatter, I pop in a CD I made for Dan (The Admiral Moneybags Mix -- a reference to Logan Echolls on Veronica Mars). A little Foo Fighters, a little Silverchair, a little Dashboard and then, this amazing twinkling piano punctuated by an urgent and persistent drone. The winding, one-lane backroads of suburban Philadelphia, Teenage Wristband by The Twilight Singers and the feeling that in that moment, I was infinite...

Can we go back to the days our love was strong?

Let's say my blog was your boyfriend. He'd be really cute. Kind of like Scott Wolf:



But lately, blog-boyfriend would be a bit of jerk. He wouldn't call nearly as much as he used to and he'd forget that Saturday night was date night and leave you alone in the restaurant, sobbing in your fifth glass of merlot.

BUT -- he's not a bad guy! No, blog-boyfriend has just been crazy busy lately with work and moving into his new place. He hasn't even had time to watch ESPN (and by ESPN, I mean the new season of The Hills, but I hear there is some serious drama brewing. Audrina and Heidi = BFF?! She-Pratt hanging out with Lauren?! Walter Tango Foxtrot, has the world gone mad??)

Anyway, blog-boyfriend still loves you. More than anyone in the world, babygirl. And to prove it to you, he comes bearing gifts...and afterwards, he promises to cuddle all night long.


Wild Horses (The Rolling Stones feat. The Black Crowes) -- I've got nineteen versions of it on my iTunes. Everything from the original to a UPenn acapella choir cover. In fact, this song is even going to be our first dance at the wedding. You'll be hard-pressed to find a mix I won't include it on.

Keep Fishing (Weezer) -- Rolling Stone Magazine called it a hard-rockin’ valentine. I’m inclined to agree. Besides, a video featuring the Muppets? This girl's in love. Question -- who is your favorite Muppet? I have two -- Gonzo and Pepe. Gonzo because he was so sweet and because I saw a lot of myself in him and Pepe because he's just flat out hilarious. Don't believe me? Check it out:



Whutchu Want (Nine) -- A hip hop gem begat to me by Willis begat to him by the man, the myth, the Brizz. I've been trying to figure out what this track interpolates for years now. Anyone out there know?

My Hero [Live] (The Foo Fighters) -- This song makes me wanna fling my boy shorts at Mr. Grohl and company. Hopefully, you’ll play it for someone and have the same sort of reaction.

Hold My Hand (New Found Glory) -- Coral Springs Easy Core at its finest. They put me in such a good mood, they remind me of a time when I wasn’t such totally old and lame and could actually handle being on the periphery of a moshpit. Now, not so much. Kids get all rowdy and I start looking for the nearest place I can get a ridiculously overpriced beer.

Proyecto Uno (El Tiburon) -- South Florida is sunshine and baked asphalt, Publix subs and sweet tea, flip-flops everywhere and meringue hip-hop blaring out of open car windows. I never really realized just how quiet my life is without it. Everytime I feel homesick, I pump up the volume on this track and pretty soon -- I'm back in SoFla again....even if it's 20 degrees and snowing outside.

Into The Groove (Madonna) -- While I'm not a fan of Madonna's latest incarnation (rhymes about soy lattes and Mini Coopers, odes to 16th century rabbis), I adore the old-school stuff. If you ever catch me dancing around in my underwear, odds are -- it'll probably be to an old-school Madonna track. (I'm just realizing that this is the second reference to underwear and music in this post. Hmmm...)

For The Mothers In Paradise, For The Fatherless in Ypsilanti (Sufjan Stevens) -- You think banjo and the Deliverance score starts playing in your head, but Sufjan Stevens takes the banjo away from its rural roots and make it sound heartwrenchingly pretty and hipster-approved. I discovered this song thanks to The O.C. and it's been a staple of my most-played list ever since.

Soft Serve (Soul Coughing) -- A funky groove and delicious lyrics. Straight men and gay women -- wouldn't you want to be with a girl who had a body like soft serve?

On Bended Knee (Boyz II Men) -- Because when you're sorry, I mean really sorry -- Boyz II Men know exactly how you feel. See? Oh and Lisa Turtle, why you gotta be such a biggedy-bitch? I mean, damn! You never treated Screech right and now you're busting Wanya Morris' balls too? When will it end?

I swear to God, this mix could sink the sun

As mentioned earlier, we're keeping Valentine's Day a fairly lo-fi affair this year, but I'm keeping with our tradition of the Valentine Mix CD.

Only, there's a slight monkey in the machine.

I can't think of what to put on it.

Since we've been together, we've made each other approximately 40 mix CDs. Let's assume each CD contains 16 tracks. 16 x 40 = 640 songs.

640 really good, really thoughtful tracks -- Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones, Sing by Travis, This Old Heart of Mine by the Isley Brothers, Cry Love by John Hiatt, Good Witch of the North by Everclear, Darling, Be Home Soon by Matt Costa...

Amazing music you want to listen to again and again.

I'm looking for music primarily in the rock genre but would also appreciate some really good, old-school soul.

Never underestimate the power of a good soul classic. For example -- last night while I was blow-drying my hair, I heard the strains of Sam Cooke emanating from the bedroom and when I popped my head out, Dan swept me up and we spent the next couple of minutes dancing to You Send Me in the bathroom. What can I tell you? The kid's a romantic.

So, if anyone can recommend some well-written, non-schlocky love songs -- I would really appreciate it.

The songs you would use if you were making a mix CD for someone you loved.

Thanks guys!

P.S.

Andrea -- this one's for you. I figure you'd appreciate it:

You gave me the best mixtape I've had

I've become addicted to Flickr Favorites again. I just go to Flickr, type in any random word, sort by 'most interesting' and find a plethora of gorgeous and inspiring imagery. It's also fun to type in really abstract concepts and see what pops up. Example? I typed in the word 'divine' and got photographs of a cathedral, a sandwich, a hotel, a Blythe doll and a scrap of paper with an Arthur C. Clarke quote scribbled on it.

Anyway, while Flickring around, I discovered this image



and it got me thinking about the perfect mixtape.

Since I missed the mixtape revolution by a hair, I kick it new-school with mix CDs. I love them, constantly make them and am a firm believer that like love, a good mix CD can make a poet out of a mute man.

That being said, here is my perfect mixtape -- a compilation of songs I love fiercely. Songs that whisk me back to a specific time and place in the first three notes. I have all of these tracks on my hard drive, so if you take a fancy to any of them -- let me know and I'll hook you up.



The Perfect Mixtape

Local God by Everclear: Featured on the William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet soundtrack, this was my first introduction to what became my favorite band during my teenage years. It's noisy, raucous, rebellious and they use the F word. In short, a perfect teenage track.

Dressed To Kill by New Found Glory: Another track reminiscent of my adolescence. I remember unrequited serious "like" being a big theme of my teenage years and the lyrics really hit home for me -- "I can't stop pretending/That you're forever mine/And I can't dream anymore since you left/I miss you singing me to sleep." (Although, I should clarify that no-one ever sang me to sleep. None of the boys I liked in high school were ever that romantic)

My Hero by the Foo Fighters: It's like drummer Taylor Hawkins is riding a stampede of elephants through your central nervous system. And I love the lyric, "There goes my hero/He's ordinary." I really like that idea -- just a regular guy...who happens to be someone's hero.

Stars by Hum*: It starts off as quiet and pretty as a lullaby...and then, the stompbox kicks in and the bonecrushing guitars and drums take off. When I was learning to play guitar (a disaster that reminds me of a line from The Simpsons wherein one of the Flanders children asks their father if Reverend Lovejoy is "killing that guitar"), I actually learned to play the opening of this song. There's something pretty amazing about recreating notes that you love...even if they don't sound nearly as good on your crappy little Squire.

The Power of Love by Huey Lewis and The News: Impossible to hear this song without thinking about Marty McFly. Maybe it's not the hippest song on the list, but you can't deny that hearing it makes you smile. Just a little.

Pride and Joy by Stevie Ray Vaughan*: I first learned about Stevie Ray Vaughan freshman year of college. His music was recommended to me, I downloaded a bunch of it, I fell head-over-heels in love and then, I discovered that Vaughan had tragically died in a helicopter crash eleven years prior. My heart was broken. I know I'll always have the music, but the fact that Guitar Hurricane will never come to play in my town? It hurts.

Whole Lotta Love by Led Zeppelin: The apex. The alpha and the omega, baby. Just like a snake charmer entrances cobras, this song hypnotizes the hips. Revving them up like a '67 Cherry Red Mustang. This isn't making love. This isn't even sex. It's the best, longest, dirtiest, most-eye-rolling, heavy-breathing, back-scratching, moaning-screaming-panting-Oh-God fuck you've ever had in your life. And the extended version is 23 minutes long (tell me that's not the best endorsement for a song you've ever heard).

Born To Run by Bruce Springsteen: Despite the fact that Bruce doesn't really get a lot of love down south, I'm a fan. I love the idea of the man as much as his music. There's a real honesty and dignity about him. You really don't find that too much anymore. Check out It Ain't No Sin To Be Glad You're Alive: The Promise of Bruce Springsteen by Eric Alterman. You'll see what I mean.

Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd: You can take the girl out of the south...And besides, it's Freebird. Come on.

Hotel California by The Eagles: We had the Hotel California album on vinyl when I was a little kid and my dad used to play it all the time. I think it was the first record my sister and I ever listened to all the way through. I also remember having this moment of satori when I realized that Lyin' Eyes was a story within a song.

Cherish by Madonna: Old-school Madonna is one of the greater pleasures in my life. The Immaculate Collection is one of those great albums I can put on at any given time and feel completely sunny and cheery two tracks in.

Juicy by Notorious B.I.G.: I'm not a hip hop head by any stretch of the imagination, but I do love and respect the form. While I'm not so much a fan of the 'booty booty booty booties rockin' everywhere', the 'knob slobbin' and the 'chicken wangs and bottles of Dom,' I do appreciate the deft intelligence, searing wit and urban Algerian folklore that comes with really good hip hop. This track contains all those things and a sick sample of Mtume's Juicy Fruit.

Wild Horses by The Rolling Stones: The world's most perfect song. Honey-dipped guitar chords, Jagger's plaintive cry and incredibly beautiful visceral imagery.


* Can we take a second to talk about how car companies have been pimping out my favorite songs to schill automobiles? I realize someone connected to the musicians sold you the rights, but when I think of Pride and Joy or Stars, I don't want to think about a crappy Altima or Caddy.

The art of Christmas sneakery as done by an expert

Christmas 2007. Dan and I exchange presents.

He goes first. He knows what he's getting. He's known for months. If I didn't tell him, he would have picked up The Simpsons Movie the second it came out and laid waste to my gift idea.

Now, it's my turn.

I gingerly tear off wrapping paper and there, staring me in the face in big white letters are the words, "Build a better resume!"

Huh.How....practical. I mean, it makes sense, right? I'm going to start job-hunting soon and I want my (incredibly meagre) resume to look good.

I look up at my very cute fiance who is smiling at me expectantly.

"Thanks...honey. That's so sweet of you to think about...."

I trail off, not really knowing how to finish that sentence or whether or not I can maintain a false air of happiness.

"Look," Dan explains, obviously oblivious to the fact that his fiance doesn't care for practicality when it comes to gifts. "See, it comes with this great pamphet!"

A pamphlet? I'm supposed to get excited about an effing pamplet?!

He thrusts a flimsy stack of papers at me and smiles. Damn it, he's cute. I half-heartedly rifle through the paper, wondering how you can know someone from the age of fifteen and not really know them at all.

Then, something odd catches my eye. Bold text reading, "Wachovia Center."

I flip to that page and my heart pretty much stops.

Thursday, February 21.
8:00 p.m.
Wachovia Center.

THE FOO FIGHTERS.

I stare at Dan, my mouth agape and he's doing that incredibly cute and incredibly annoying thing with his mouth -- the smile that says, "Ha ha! I gotcha, you sucker!"

"Dude...." I quietly intone while his mom, sister and brother-in-law look at me. The wave breaks and I let out an almighty shriek:

"DUDE! WE'RE SEEING THE FOO FIGHTERS!!"

The family cracks up and engulf Dan in a huge hug. Best. Present. Ever.

Thank God he uses his powers of deception for good and not evil.




In other Christmas-related news, my parents and sister might just be the coolest people ever. Why? Because this is what they got me:

My sister got me Eat, Pray Love by Elizabeth Mitchell. That's not the best part. This is -- she enclosed a note that made reference to her being a "d-bag" and then, signed it 'Sarikaisawesome.'

Indeed.

My parents gift was very, very cool. Most parents use Christmas as a time to eke out sweet little Hallmark moments between them and their kids. My parents wrote me a very nice note telling me how much they missed me and how they hope my first Christmas in PA is a good one...and attached said note to Ego-Trip's Big Book of Racism -- a tome which features the 'Are You A Racist' quiz. Sample question:

It's the annual Puerto Rican Day Parade. Boricuas from all across this great nation with descend upon the Manzana Grande to commemorate:

A) ass
B) Ass
C) ASS
D) AZZ (Boo-yow!)

Yeah. My parents are from the five six ace in the Gunshine State...and it shows.

I hope everyone had a very happy holiday. Tell me all about it!

Love is...

Singing Good by Better Than Ezra together, making up better lyrics and meaning every word of, "It's good living with you...wa-how!"

Rolling Stone Magazine: Best 100 songs of 2007

As 2007 comes to a close, everyone gets a little list-happy and starts bulletpointing the year -- best movies of the year, best celebrity meltdowns, best sandwich featuring chipotle as a condiment (my vote goes to Wawa. Their hoagies rock my world), whatever.

As expected, Rolling Stone Magazine came out with a list of the Best 100 Songs of 2007. As expected, the list consisted of an assortment of tracks that never made it to my ear drums (#28 -- Crazy Ex-Girlfriend by Miranda Lambert, #65 -- White People For Peace by Against Me!), amazing songs I loved but never heard on the radio (#45 -- Halloweenhead by Ryan Adams) and ear-worms that no-one could escape from (#3 -- Umbrella by Rihanna and #24 -- What Goes Around Comes Around by the ineffable Mr. Timberlake).

Also as expected, Rolling Stone made some glaring errors in judgment. How could one possibly rate Same Girl by R. Kelly and Usher (#26 on the list)



higher than The Pretender by the Foo Fighters (#47 on the list)?!



The former is a thoroughly insipid duet featuring lyrics like: Wait a minute hold on dog. Do she got a crib? By the Waffle House? Do she got a beauty mark on the left side of her mouth? Went to Georgia Tech? Works for TBS? Man I can't believe this shit. Damn!/Tell me what's wrong dog what the hell you damnin' 'bout? I'm your homie so just say what's on your mind.

While The Pretender just flat-out kicks ass. Taylor Hawkins plays like he's riding a herd of stampeding elephants through your central nervous system and Dave Grohl's scathing, politically incisive lyrics just slay me:

Send in your skeletons/Sing as their bones go marching in... again/The need you buried deep/The secrets that you keep are ever ready/Are you ready?/I'm finished making sense/Done pleading ignorance/That whole defense

Paging the Bush Administration. A Dave Grohl's on line one and he's got a message for you.

Come on, Rolling Stone. You're smarter than this. I refuse to believe the home of Cameron Crowe, Lester Bangs, David Fricke, Griel Marcus, Rob Sheffield, Anthony DeCurtis, Jancee Dunn and Hunter S. Thompson would make such an egregious error. So, fix up this little snafu and we won't mention it ever again.

Oh and if you've got a moment, check out Bill Maher's picks for Dickheads of the Year. Wasn't a huge fan of his Halloween costume, but I definitely agree with this list.

iShuffle, youShuffle -- we all shuffle

Inspired by the musicshuffle community on LiveJournal:

1. Whatchu Want? -- Nine: Will, in his ongoing effort to educate me in hip hop, put this track on one of the numerous mix CDs he made me and I quickly fell in love. The low thumping bassline accentuates Nine's rasping growl perfectly and I'm a sucker for the lyric: "Whutchu want, Nine? An ill posse and my name up in lights: N-I-N-E."

2. Closer To Free -- The Bodeans: Yeah, like this girl's not gonna have the Party of Five theme song on her iTunes. Every time I hear it, I get that great visual in my head of Charlie and Bailey being all manly and sanding down wood. And for the record, I still have a crush on Bailey Salinger. Oh and does America Ferrera (Ugly Betty) remind anyone else of Neve Campbell on solid foods?

vs.

See what I'm saying?

3. I Will Buy You A New Life -- Everclear: In high school, I was quite possibly, the world's biggest fan. My collection of Everclear memorabilia includes: all the albums, including a rare British import (75% of the signed in person), the tab book for So Much For The Afterglow (also signed in person), a bunch of snapshots of me and the band, a t-shirt far too large for my person, a collection of essays on the band, a guitar pick given to me by lead singer, Art Alexakis and an ankle that can predict rain (fractured the first time I saw the band live). These days -- the band's had some line-up changes and I haven't bought an album since 2000's Songs From An American Movie Volume 2: Good Time For A Bad Attitude, but I still love the band and listening to their "old stuff" makes me immeasurably happy.

4. Scuttle Buttin' -- Stevie Ray Vaughan: I fell in love with Vaughan and his guitar virtuosity freshman year of college and I've been in love ever since. His passion really shines through his playing and Scuttle Buttin' is filled with tasty licks. It's like barbecue sauce for the soul -- you sop it up and lick it off your fingers and damn, does it taste delicious.

5. Perfect World -- Liz Phair: "I wanna be cool, tall, vulnerable and luscious/I would have it all if I only had this much." Perfect World. Perfect lyric. I can definitely relate to that.

6. Try A Little Tenderness (Live) -- Otis Redding: The best advice any man could ever dispense -- try a little tenderness and, "you've got to hold huh! Don't squueeeze huh! Please huh! Never leave huh!" The live version supersedes the album recording (a feat in itself) and Redding sings like he's got the devil after him. Sonic perfection.

7. Gett Off -- Prince: Firstly, Prince's opening orgasmic scream immediately captures your attention and then, when the purple pygmy knows he has your attention, he bursts out with this little gem: "Twenty-three positions in a one night stand." And here's the best part, if anyone else said it, you'd call bullshit in a heartbeat, but because it's Prince, you just nod and say, "Yeah. I can see that..."

8. My Hero (Live) -- Foo Fighters: I'm adding Dave Grohl to the laminated list.



He sings, he writes alternately the prettiest and most kick-ass lyrics, he plays guitar, he sings, he's funny, he's got great taste in music, he's a friend to trapped miners, he plays drums and is basically just one of the most bad-ass guys ever. While pretty much every Foo Fighters song is my favorite, My Hero holds a special place in my heart. The drumming blows my away -- it's like Bonzo riding a herd of elephants through your central nervous system.

9. Back To The Future Main Theme -- Alan Silvestri: I'm getting married to this song. No, I'm not joking. After being officially announced as Mr. and Mrs., our recessional will be to the Back To The Future theme. That, ladies and gentlemen, is love.

10. Lacrimosa (Spiderman 2 trailer) -- Immediate Music: Ever seen a movie trailer, been wowed by the epic music featured and then, annoyed to discover that it's neither on the soundtrack or the score? Odds are Immediate Music was responsible for the piece. They're a music composition company based in Santa Monica, CA and have scored the trailers for everything ranging from Spiderman 2 to Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End to Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. And because I'm a huge nerd, I have their stuff on my iTunes.

That's my list -- what's yours?

Why I love hip hop

Tupac Shakur's When We Ride On Our Enemies features the lyric:

I murder you then I run a train on Mobb Deep!

The very next line is:

Don't fuck with me/Nigga, you barely livin'/Don't you got sickle cell?

Now, the bit about running a train doesn't affect me in the least, but that line about sickle cell? It's like, "Tupac, come on. Was that really necessary? That was kinda harsh, dude."

I couldn't find a streaming version of When We Ride On Our Enemies, so the musical selection of the day is my sister's "jam" -- Changes.

Enjoy!

Urge to kill... rising...

Two posts in one day? Just call me Blogging Molly. However, this was too big to ignore.

The tracklist for the Simpsons movie soundtrack was just announced and dear God, it's a Stampy-sized bowel movement.

1. "Can't Shine Like Me" - Lil' Romeo
2. "If You Let Me Go" - Jay-Z featuring Omarion
3. "So Emotional" - 1 Chance
4. "High Away from You" - Lifehouse
5. "I Don't Wanna Understand" - Jennifer Lopez featuring Three 6 Mafia
6. "I Believe You" - Lyfe Jennings
7. "The Way You Roll With Me" - T.I.
8. "Dancing Machine" - Maroon 5 featuring Lil' Flip
9. "Simpson" - Beanie Sigel featuring Jazze Pha
10. "Since You Get Off The Computer" - Fall Out Boy
11. "Back Again" - Kai featuring Akon
12. "I Will Kill You" - Panic! at the Disco
13. "You Gave My Heart" - Keyshia Cole featuring Ludacris
14. "The World Is Yours" - N.W.A.
15. "In the Rain" - Young Jeezy featuring Lil' Wayne
16. "Lockdown" - Joe Budden featuring The Game and Mike Jones
17. "Roll Tide" - Ja Rule featuring Lloyd and Nelly
18. "I'm Your Mama" - Chris Brown featuring Nas
19. "Go to Bed" - David Banner
20. "I Don't Wanna Your Stupid Of Me" - Ben Folds
21. "And Get Off The Porch" - Obie Trice featuring 50 Cent and Eminem

Walter Tango Foxtrot -- what the hell is going on here? I expected so much more from a show that has featured musical acts such as U2, Johnny Cash, The Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Ramones , The Who, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards and the last three living Beatles.

The musical guestlist for The Simpsons is like backstage at the Rock 'N Roll Hall of Fame, so why is the soundtrack chock-full of flash-in-the-pan crap?

Lil' Romeo? Jennifer Lopez? Fucking Fall Out Boy?! I know their name is a Simpsons reference, but their music sucks and Pete Wentz is a toolbag. Isn't there a Dane Cook soundtrack these third-rate pop-punkers could appear on instead?

Sweet merciful crap, even The Simpsons Sing The Blues is better than this festering turd of a record. If the movie is anything like the soundtrack -- I'm just going to lose faith in the franchise all together.

To co-opt the words of the incomparable Jeff Albertson -- Worst. Soundtrack. Ever.

Sonic Love Byte: Wild Horses/Patience -- Guns 'N Roses

I've got this bum ticker, see. If I drink a lot of coffee or get real upset or spend too much time in a hot-tub or sauna -- my heart starts racing. I get a little dizzy and I can't really remember how to breathe too well (in through the nose, right?). My chest feels like it's made of paper and John Bonham soloing right in the middle of it.

It's pretty intense.

Watching this clip and hearing those guitars, my heart felt like I'd be pounding double espressos all night long. Hell, I'm still a little dizzy...and I wouldn't trade that feeling for the world.

Dear Beyonce -- No. Stop it. Love: Jaime

Grievance #1:

You completely ripped off Des'ree's Kissing You from Baz Luhrmann's Romeo + Juliet and laid your prosaic lyrics and vocals on top ("You are my doctor, counselor, provider, professor, my everything" -- Are you looking for a boyfriend or a life coach? Who wrote these lyrics -- a lovesick eighth grader?). Not only did you cover the song in a way that makes the deaf plead for mercy, but you had the flat-out gall to steal the track. Big hair, backside and bank account doesn't make you exempt from following copyright law, Miss B.

Grievance #2: You coupled aforementioned stolen track with an insipid rehash of Herb Ritts' smoldering video for Chris Isaak's Wicked Game?! My God, woman -- you're like a Mongol raping and pillaging her way through pop culture.


You lolling around on a beach in black-and-white? Not even marginally interesting. Chris Isaak and Helena Christensen, however?

Well, a couple of years ago -- it inspired me to write the following:

Wicked Game by Chris Isaak.

First thing that pops into that pop-culture-sugar-caffeine-booze-and-sex addled firecracker you call a brain is what? Helena Christensen rolling around on a beach half-naked with Chris Isaak. Right? Right.

Do you even stop to think about the song or the words or what they mean? Fuck no! What are you? Old? Impotent? Asexual?! Helena Christensen is half naked! With Chris Isaak! On a beach! In black and white! It was sexy, it was steamy and it hypnotized you to believe, "Hey! I could have smoldering sex like that too!" Hate to break it to you, but no-one could have sex that hot. Doing so would cause a global heatwave which would incinerate us all.

Anyway....

I managed to tear myself away from the visuals and actually sat down and paid attention to the song. Am I old, impotent or asexual? What are you, kidding?! I'm me. Anyway, you know what I discovered? Isaak wrote an amazing song. It's got this real sensual, languorous vibe to it. Slow and seductive. Like sonic foreplay. So, this got me thinking. Sex -- it's all rhythmic, right? I'm not talking the 'rhythm method' (which, by the way, is complete bullshit, so before doing construction, make sure you wear a hard-hat, fellas). I'm talking about a natural groove which you sort of fall into. The way two bodies move in perfect syncopation to feel every last touch and taste. Music creates motion; motion creates emotion and emotion creates a scream so loud, the neighbors down the street complain.

Can you imagine tapping into this rhythm? Transferring it over to big, fat bass strings? There's something real primal about the bass. The way its urgency kinda grabs you and resonates deep within the belly of your beast. It's a pretty incredible thing. Tapping into it might just unlock the mysteries of the universe....or create one helluva great track.

Lyrically, Wicked Game is real simple and real honest. It starts off with, "The world was on fire/No one could save me but you." We've all been in the throes of lust. You say you haven't, you're either lying or....yeah, you're just a dirty liar. It's a fire that nothing can extinguish. You can take a dozen cold showers and picture Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day as much as you want, but sooner or last -- the sparks are gonna ignite again. It's human nature. Don't even try to deny it.
The next line of the song, however, is what gets me. Hits me like a first kiss and a vicious left hook -- "It's strange what desire will make foolish people do." Forget fools -- it's strange what desire will make anyone do. Logic goes on hiatus and you can justify pretty much anything -- spending your entire paycheck on pink roses, getting their name tattooed somewhere a judge could see it or getting piss drunk, standing outside her home and serenading her with a personalized version of AC/DC's You Shook Me All Night Long. Desire makes you crazy...but being crazy isn't always a bad thing. Sometimes, it helps remind you that you're alive and that's a pretty incredible feeling.

All that being said, Miss Knowles --

I'm glad that Sony BMG slapped your ass with an injunction. I'm glad the track was pulled from your album and the video was pulled from rotation, but above all -- I really hope Des'ree covers one of your songs and sings the hell out of it. Just like Tina Turner did for CCR's Proud Mary and Aretha did for Otis Redding's Respect. Oh and in case there's any sort of confusion, I'm not comparing you to CCR or Redding. They're talented, you see.

And because I don't want to leave that nasty rehashed taste in your mouth, here's a sweet little pop gem courtesy of Gwen Stefani and Akon. I dig this track because it sounds like Stefani's finally going back to her No Doubt roots.

Sonic Love Byte: Shine by Dolly Parton

There are certain things you wouldn't normally put together but when you do -- they end up complimenting each other perfectly.

Hash browns, scrambled eggs, ketchup and maple syrup, for example. Sounds disgusting, right? It looks even worse. But, next time you wake up hungover with that sloshy feeling in your stomach, head to your local Denny's and chow down on this culinary delight. If your stomach doesn't explode with a fury not seen since Pompeii -- it'll be the best meal of your life.

Music is like that too. You take two completely unrelated forms and you fuse them together and end up with something greater than the sum of its parts.

Never in my life would I ever have thought I'd hear Dolly Parton belting out a modern rock classic like Collective Soul's Shine, but lo and behold -- here it is:



It makes sense, though. The introspective, spiritual lyrics and Miss Parton's sweet bluegrass sensibilities mesh perfectly. And I swear I never thought these words would leave my mouth, but the fiddle solo rocks. Now, I'm not gonna trade in my Strat anytime soon, but as far as strings go -- the fiddle's pretty fierce. Don't believe me? Listen to the solo on this track and if that isn't enough to convince you, download The Devil Went Down To Georgia by The Charlie Daniels Band (Beelzebub FTW BTW)


And for all you purists out there, here's the original. Enjoy.



Parton's cover of Shine can be found on the Little Sparrow album and Collective Soul's original can be found on the Hints, Allegations and Things Left Unsaid album.

Sonic Love Byte: Atlantic City by Bruce Springsteen

You want to see what America's really like? Look through the eyes of an immigrant. You'll see a very interesting portrait of the nation -- one both bleaker and rosier than the one you're used to seeing.

You'll notice a lot of duality like that. See, when you live in the States and you weren't born here, things are different. Now, I can't speak for the rest of the tired, poor huddled masses yearning to breathe, but I can speak for myself.

I love this country. Fiercely. Passionately. Completely. I'm not some flag waving patriot who'll stick a boot up your ass just as quickly as she'll shock'n y'all (Yes, I realize that doesn't make sense, but then again, neither does Toby Keith). I'm just a person who appreciates the opportunity and the life she has.

There is no place in the world I would want to reside besides these here United States. But in this country -- I cannot legally work. If I choose to get married, a horde of officials will demand paperwork and legitimate proof of my relationship is actually a relationship and not a scam. If I wanted to go on vacation abroad, I could not re-enter the country. Next year, my visa will expire and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

In short -- living in America ain't easy, but trying to live here? It's even tougher.

Some days, it seems like the system is doing everything in its power to evict me. But despite that -- I want nothing more than to stay. I believe in America. That it is a good place. That the Algerian ideals are true. I still believe in the American Dream.

That being said, I recently rediscovered something I fell in love with when I was seventeen -- the music of Bruce Springsteen.

My boyfriend made me a mix CD and one of the tracks on it was Atlantic City.

I played it once and as soon as the song was over, I immediately rewound it and played it again. And again. And again. With every subsequent replay, I started to remember more and more about just how much I loved Springsteen. How I've read It Ain't No Sin To Be Glad You're Alive: The Promise of Bruce Springsteen by Eric Alterman from cover to cover at least a dozen times. How I must have listened to Glory Days at least once a week back then. How I referenced American Skin (41 Shots) in a paper I wrote for an English class. How I remembered thinking that Springsteen was a real rarity because he told the truth and no-one hardly does that anymore.

Springsteen epitomizes America. Just like Mustangs, Fender Strats, bottomless cups of coffee and great greasybluesydirty guitar solos.

He understands the country's duality -- the promise and the desperation. The optimism and the devastation. But above all, he understands the hope.

Life is hard and cruel. Sometimes, you don't make enough money to make ends meet. Sometimes, your dream is further out of reach than you originally believed. Sometimes, the guy doesn't get the girl, but in America -- when there's nothing else left, there's always hope. The promise of a new day. A brighter tomorrow. "Everything dies. Baby, that's a fact. But maybe everything that dies someday comes back. Put your makeup on. Fix your hair up pretty. And meet me tonight in Atlantic City."

It may be fraught with peril ("Well I'm tired of comin' out on the losin' end/So honey last night I met this guy and I'm gonna do a little favor for him" -- an obvious reference to Atlantic City's shady criminal underworld), but if you're willing to take the chance and get on that Coast City bus to the place where the sand's turning into gold -- well, you've got a shot. At a better life. At a bigger dream. At rebirth and reinvention.

Despite the elegiac tragedy just waiting to befall the our hero, Atlantic City is a song of promise. Our hero may never win the big money jackpot. He might not ever be a high roller but he's throwing the dice. He's taking a shot and as long as he does that -- well, he's living the American Dream.

No retreat, baby. No surrender.



I couldn't find Atlantic City on Radio Blog Club, so instead -- here's another one of my favorite Springsteen tracks.

Sonic Love Byte: G. Love

Reasons I Dig G. Love:

• He effortlessly combines hip hop, funk, soul, blues, rock, folk and pop. Now usually when artists try their hands at fusion, it ends up with the listener trying to shave off his or her ears with a cheese grater (see: Fred Durst, KoRn, most any rap-rock hybrid), but G. Love has managed to perfect the sound.
  
  
• The band's name is Special Sauce. Who would have thought that a condiment found at McDonalds could be so cool?
  
  
• He collaborates with Ben Harper, Jack Johnson and Blackalicious on his seventh studio album, Lemonade.
  
  
• The man digs food in a serious way. I think he was even featured on the Food Network once. My general rule of thumb? If they ain't all about food, don't trust 'em.
  
  
• One of his biggest influences is John Lee Hooker and John Lee Hooker is bad-ass. Real bad-ass.
  
  
• Three words -- Milk and Cereal
  
  
• And the most important reason I dig G. Love -- he sounds good.

For more G. Love -- check out the official G. Love and the Special Sauce website, Philadelphonic or you can head on over to I Am Fuel, You Are Friends for these two posts.

In other news -- I have a headache, we're getting free HBO and Showtime at Lush Manor and in eleven days -- I'm seeing Dan. I can't wait.

Sonic Love Byte: Lily Allen

Reasons I dig Lily Allen:

She's English (like me)
She's a pint-sized pottymouth (again, like me)
She's a blogger (I'm seeing a lot of similarities here...)
Her music is a helluva lot of fun -- she sings about having her ex boyfriend beaten up (Smile), her pot-smoking scrub of a brother (Alfie), her frugal grandma (Nan, You're A Window Shopper which is actually a take on 50 Cent's battle rap Window Shopper) and life in London (LDN).
She's down with puppets.