edit: Still not asleep, so instead I will recommend some new musicians to you:
Lloyd & Michael (tweeish, not what you would expect from the name).
Let me also point you to the myspace of The Sprites who have a song called, “I Started a Blog that Nobody Read” which kind of reminds me of the class discussion today.
I can’t tell how I feel about Mike Doughty (this page has streaming music), I’ll get back to you on it.
Scrabbel (yes, spelled that way) has a cool name, but the jury’s also out on this one. It kind of sounds like a less underwater-garbly-midwestern-retro version of Arthur & Yu (but then again, take away A&Y’s muted-like complete rip of every band from the 1960’s sound, and what are you left with?)
Don’t even get me started on A&Y though, I like a few of their songs but kind of as a musical novelty. They were opening for Iron & Wine this past September, and they were pretty bland live. They’re very much a studio band, in terms of the vast difference of sound between the stages (i.e. sounding articulated, mildly interesting, and wholly on key in the studio recordings as opposed to…)
I like bands that can hold their own live, but eh, to each their own.
Just kidding, I listened to their myspace while writing this rant about them, and they’re pretty boring in the studio too. The one good song of theirs is “The Ghost of Old Bull Lee” because it’s the only one that’s really got any complexity to it; alas, I guess it didn’t make it to the myspace.
Two more. Number one comes from the giant music dump I got in the past few weeks, (and now that I’ve had two sources, I can’t remember who this came from) Georgie James. The song I like is “Places” which you can find if you scroll down a little bit, to their embedded application rather than the standard myspace music player.
Number two, I may have mentioned her earlier, but ElfOwl is a friend of Z.’s who makes gorgeous music. She’ll be playing at this show on Saturday night, and I’m psyched to see her sing live. I particularly suggest the song “Marianne” which I definitely mentioned earlier, as it was the inspiration for my poem “Emporia and the Long Drive.”
Ok, I lied. Last one, oldie but goodie (ew, I actually used that phrase.) Matthew Sweet has always been a staple around my house, more recently in his newer band The Thorns, but I am partial to Girlfriend and 100% Fun. In fact, the song “Girlfriend” in particular has been the song I use in the mornings as of late to pump me up. Linking to him is proving difficult, apparently his website is down and his myspace is a more recent collaborative effort of covers with Susanna Hoffs, a name I haven’t heard since I was like, 12, and my dad bought me a cd of hers.
We’ll just go old school. “Sick of Myself.”
So I can’t sleep. So I’m writing here.
The thought’s been plaguing me for a while so I want to put it here: this spring is oddly mirroring last. Sunday night before my mom left the next morning, we ventured to Macado’s for a late night greasy dinner. As we turned the corner to enter the lobby, there was a moment of deja vu under the awning. As I pushed open the door, there sat S. (manager of Macado’s, my cute but ill-fated date of last year who I saw once or twice again afterwards but never for another date) on the bench. I, caught up in the moment, said to my mother rather bitterly, “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” and stalked into the restaurant in my best impression of a-woman-scorned. Mom, having no idea what I was doing, gave the disheveled and up until that moment possibly sleeping boy a smile; he apparently returned with a sheepish grin (her words). When we were safely sequestered in a booth on the second floor I explained the significance.
Mom and I then talked about this spring as a repeat of last, only finding myself in the same situations with a different outlook on life. Talking to M. again. Seeing S. again in his atmosphere (and here I had thought he was history in terms of the restaurant — I did see him once a few weeks ago squiring a young lady into the movie theatre, but only momentarily).
The Wading Girl is playing another show on April 27th, just like they did last year. That was “the magical show,” the one where I bonded with a bunch of drunken seniors, and a stone-sober junior who was slightly forlorn at the fact. We danced and sang, then ate ihop together (the junior and I), and then M. (suprisingly sober) texted me about the plausibility of seeing each other later in the evening (although, technically AM at this point — I know, classy.)
This show though is at Martin’s where the likelihood of getting in for me as a bitter twenty year old is slim. There are no boys these days to vouch for me, say “She’s with us,” or “She won’t cause any trouble.” Hell, there is no somewhat ballsy counterpart who would fight for my admittance while only slightly embarrassing me by repeatedly pointing out that I am just a kid. Loudly.
Anyway.
Everything’s changed. I go downtown and see the same faces, (all the boys with J-names, a Roanoke phenomenon that everyone’s mom decided they needed to be named Jon or Jordan or Jerry or Jason or Justin) but rarely interact (a hello, a ‘how’s it been,’).
I’m a much happier person these days. I wouldn’t trade what I have now for another April 27th or another date at Pop’s.
Speaking of Pop’s, I struck up conversation with one of the owners, and a regular, about film and collecting owls from thrift stores (my new hobby). It was cute, chatting over my strawberry milkshake. That kind of stuff is the Roanoke moments I miss, the times I rarely get anymore what with schoolwork and general malaise.
Tomorrow is Boone Boone Boone, bringing a friend with me so that should be interesting. Z. is playing a solo show on Saturday, and being there for that is more important to me than 1000 april 27ths, more important than all of last year.
