Getting Your Tickets to the Conor Oberst Show at the Troubadour.
They go on sale in 2 minutes, yo. We're guessing they won't last long...
Friday, June 20, 2008
(06.20.08) Recommends:
A Cure For Getting Out Of Your Head The Song You Woke Up With In Your Head.
So. It's Friday. And you woke up with a song in your head. You hummed it as you were hitting the snooze button. You hummed it as you ate a donut for breakfast. You hummed it as you worked your way through, what your undergraduate hallmate called the 3S's. You hummed it on your commute into work. Under normal circumstances, to get the song cycled through your head -- thus making room for its inevitable next obsession -- you would simply listen to the song, on repeat, all day. But the problem is, the particular version of the particular song you woke up with in your head was only unofficially released as part of the officially released outtakes of a documentary made about the band. And lugging the DVD to work and finding the particular clip and then creating some kind of loop to satisfy your need to hear the song continuously, all day long, seems too daunting a task. So what is a person to do? How, you're wondering, do you get the song out of your head?
Before the internet, we're not sure there was an easy answer. But now, you just find the clip on youtube. And listen to the song for the next 10-12 hours. And, of course, apologize in advance to all co-workers for subjecting them to this song, on repeat, all day long. But. It just has to be one of those days today.
Wilco -- How to Fight Loneliness -- youtube.
So. It's Friday. And you woke up with a song in your head. You hummed it as you were hitting the snooze button. You hummed it as you ate a donut for breakfast. You hummed it as you worked your way through, what your undergraduate hallmate called the 3S's. You hummed it on your commute into work. Under normal circumstances, to get the song cycled through your head -- thus making room for its inevitable next obsession -- you would simply listen to the song, on repeat, all day. But the problem is, the particular version of the particular song you woke up with in your head was only unofficially released as part of the officially released outtakes of a documentary made about the band. And lugging the DVD to work and finding the particular clip and then creating some kind of loop to satisfy your need to hear the song continuously, all day long, seems too daunting a task. So what is a person to do? How, you're wondering, do you get the song out of your head?
Before the internet, we're not sure there was an easy answer. But now, you just find the clip on youtube. And listen to the song for the next 10-12 hours. And, of course, apologize in advance to all co-workers for subjecting them to this song, on repeat, all day long. But. It just has to be one of those days today.
Wilco -- How to Fight Loneliness -- youtube.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
(06.18.08) Recommends:
Summer Cookout!
June is the official start of summer and there's really no better way to kick off summer than gathering around pools, booze, and grilled meats. Because we are nerds, and also because you may need some edification, following is A Primer On Summertime Cookouts.
Summertime cookouts are first and foremost about celebrating indulgence. The indulgence of leizure time, the indulgence of youth, the indulgence of being at the top of the food chain. As such, it is proper to begin a cookout at a place that sells stuff in the most unreasonable and unsustainable quantities possibly imaginable: Costco!
Because really, why buy enough for just one salad, when, for just a few dollars more, it is possible to foritfy your house/compound with a column of lettuce six feet tall?
You might think you're only in the mood for one slice of salami. But the day is longer and the sun beats down hotter than you anticipate and you just never really know when you might need stacks and stacks of salami!
And when the ocean seems to be running out of its natural supply of various lifeforms, why not just create your own goddamn ocean ecosystem?
Perhaps the most impressive thing sold at Costco was this tent which, although this picture hardly does it justice, is actually bigger than our apartment by an order of magnitude.
Implements of Destruction, Pt. 1:
The next step is to try to repent for your mega-structure shopping ways, by hitting Trader Joe's.
We had to violate Picture No. 1 (note: click on the pic for a better view) to capture this picture. We apologize.
You see, Trader Joe's encourages sustainable, responsible and healthy shopping choices including but not limited to, offering the following six bottles of wine for a total of twelve dollars.
Implements of Destruction, Pt. 2:
You should never attempt to start a cookout without first visiting the crazy uncle of shopping facilities: Rite Aid!
Implements of Destruction, Pt. 3:
Implements of Destruction, Pt. 4:
Now that you have safely made it back to the kitchen, it is time to make your shopping bounty bend to your will. What do we do with scallops that just sit there, taunting us with their pale flesh and laziness?
We wrap them in bacon and stick them with skewers!
Men are pretty simple creatures. Below find the Secret to Taming Man: Gigantic Potato? Check. Gigantic Knife? Check. Things Wrapped in Gigantic Pieces of Bacon? Check. The Champagne of Beer? Chiggity Check. Game, set, match. We'll give the gentlemen readers a few seconds to still their hearts before moving to the next picture.
Back when we were young and full of vinegar the world only existed in sepia tones, and all we had to eat was boiled potatos.
But kids today will demand their technicolor and fancy cut potatos and use of liberal-elite Chinaman sticks. Be prepared for The Modern Age and your cookout will be a success.
If you are like us, you should probably only be allowed to make one part of the cookout. Our old standby we like to call Skillet Full of Butter.
By now, it's time to get down to brass tacks. Remember: cook tri-tip with the fat side up (we don't know why this is true, it's just what the package said).
Once Al Gore stops trying to do the whole fashionable "save the environment" thing, we're hopeful he'll move on to important things, such as getting busy inventing the Scratch 'n Sniff Internet. When that happens the following pictures will really knock your socks off.
After [some amount of time], the meat will be ready to be taken off the grill. At which point you should cut [either with or against] the grain.
A meal fit for a King.
Cookout Economics 101: Since it came into effect in 1994, NAFTA has made it increasingly difficult for American Beers to compete on an even playing field with Mexican Beers. At some point in your cookout, you will probably run out of American Beer. But, since you're already eating with liberal-elite Chinaman Sticks, you and your hippie friends will have no problem drinking beer that's causing both the entire state of Ohio to go bankrupt and a huge influx of illegal immagration. Note: this is the theory that at least one person at your cook out will probably put forth at some point during the day. Rather than engaging, it's probably best just to laugh at this person and tell them they don't know shit about shit. This most likely will end the conversation peacefully. At which point you can go back to listening to the Beach Boys and talking about the awesomeness of the television show Deadliest Catch.
One thing that is true about beer, American, Mexican, or otherwise, is if you don't handle it properly, it can make your vision a bit fuzzy. This is to be avoided at all costs.
Your cookout will be delicious and you will want to devour it in three bites, but put forth an effort to finish your plate gracefully, in a manner befitting artsy black and white photography.
It is always best to invite people to your cookouts who are more interesting, talented, and/or famous than you. Because let's face it, your stories are getting a little long in the tooth. Perhaps you know the next future Mr. and Mrs. Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida?
Or wait, is it the next future Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Safran Foer and Nicole Krauss? Either way, the point is you don't want a cookout where you're drinking by yourself (this is what your bathroom mirror is for, right?)
Once you get bored looking at each other, it's nice to have a pleasant view upon which to rest your gaze. The way it twinkles at dusk you can almost see why they call it the City of Angels.
However, we like to think of it as our own personal snow globe. Oh yes, Los Angeles, you've been warned. We will shake you up and remake you in our own image.
At some point, people might get tired and/or annoyed with all your photography. The shooter will become the shot (will become the shooter will become the shot will become the shooter will become the shot...)
After eating, you must remember to wait 30-40 minutes for your food to digest. Then you will get to make your final decision of the cookout. Hot tub?
Or pool?
There you have it. Following this simple primer nearly guarantees your next summertime cookout will be a raging success.
June is the official start of summer and there's really no better way to kick off summer than gathering around pools, booze, and grilled meats. Because we are nerds, and also because you may need some edification, following is A Primer On Summertime Cookouts.
Summertime cookouts are first and foremost about celebrating indulgence. The indulgence of leizure time, the indulgence of youth, the indulgence of being at the top of the food chain. As such, it is proper to begin a cookout at a place that sells stuff in the most unreasonable and unsustainable quantities possibly imaginable: Costco!
Because really, why buy enough for just one salad, when, for just a few dollars more, it is possible to foritfy your house/compound with a column of lettuce six feet tall?
You might think you're only in the mood for one slice of salami. But the day is longer and the sun beats down hotter than you anticipate and you just never really know when you might need stacks and stacks of salami!
And when the ocean seems to be running out of its natural supply of various lifeforms, why not just create your own goddamn ocean ecosystem?
Perhaps the most impressive thing sold at Costco was this tent which, although this picture hardly does it justice, is actually bigger than our apartment by an order of magnitude.
Implements of Destruction, Pt. 1:
The next step is to try to repent for your mega-structure shopping ways, by hitting Trader Joe's.
We had to violate Picture No. 1 (note: click on the pic for a better view) to capture this picture. We apologize.
You see, Trader Joe's encourages sustainable, responsible and healthy shopping choices including but not limited to, offering the following six bottles of wine for a total of twelve dollars.
Implements of Destruction, Pt. 2:
You should never attempt to start a cookout without first visiting the crazy uncle of shopping facilities: Rite Aid!
Implements of Destruction, Pt. 3:
Implements of Destruction, Pt. 4:
Now that you have safely made it back to the kitchen, it is time to make your shopping bounty bend to your will. What do we do with scallops that just sit there, taunting us with their pale flesh and laziness?
We wrap them in bacon and stick them with skewers!
Men are pretty simple creatures. Below find the Secret to Taming Man: Gigantic Potato? Check. Gigantic Knife? Check. Things Wrapped in Gigantic Pieces of Bacon? Check. The Champagne of Beer? Chiggity Check. Game, set, match. We'll give the gentlemen readers a few seconds to still their hearts before moving to the next picture.
Back when we were young and full of vinegar the world only existed in sepia tones, and all we had to eat was boiled potatos.
But kids today will demand their technicolor and fancy cut potatos and use of liberal-elite Chinaman sticks. Be prepared for The Modern Age and your cookout will be a success.
If you are like us, you should probably only be allowed to make one part of the cookout. Our old standby we like to call Skillet Full of Butter.
By now, it's time to get down to brass tacks. Remember: cook tri-tip with the fat side up (we don't know why this is true, it's just what the package said).
Once Al Gore stops trying to do the whole fashionable "save the environment" thing, we're hopeful he'll move on to important things, such as getting busy inventing the Scratch 'n Sniff Internet. When that happens the following pictures will really knock your socks off.
After [some amount of time], the meat will be ready to be taken off the grill. At which point you should cut [either with or against] the grain.
A meal fit for a King.
Cookout Economics 101: Since it came into effect in 1994, NAFTA has made it increasingly difficult for American Beers to compete on an even playing field with Mexican Beers. At some point in your cookout, you will probably run out of American Beer. But, since you're already eating with liberal-elite Chinaman Sticks, you and your hippie friends will have no problem drinking beer that's causing both the entire state of Ohio to go bankrupt and a huge influx of illegal immagration. Note: this is the theory that at least one person at your cook out will probably put forth at some point during the day. Rather than engaging, it's probably best just to laugh at this person and tell them they don't know shit about shit. This most likely will end the conversation peacefully. At which point you can go back to listening to the Beach Boys and talking about the awesomeness of the television show Deadliest Catch.
One thing that is true about beer, American, Mexican, or otherwise, is if you don't handle it properly, it can make your vision a bit fuzzy. This is to be avoided at all costs.
Your cookout will be delicious and you will want to devour it in three bites, but put forth an effort to finish your plate gracefully, in a manner befitting artsy black and white photography.
It is always best to invite people to your cookouts who are more interesting, talented, and/or famous than you. Because let's face it, your stories are getting a little long in the tooth. Perhaps you know the next future Mr. and Mrs. Dave Eggers and Vendela Vida?
Or wait, is it the next future Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Safran Foer and Nicole Krauss? Either way, the point is you don't want a cookout where you're drinking by yourself (this is what your bathroom mirror is for, right?)
Once you get bored looking at each other, it's nice to have a pleasant view upon which to rest your gaze. The way it twinkles at dusk you can almost see why they call it the City of Angels.
However, we like to think of it as our own personal snow globe. Oh yes, Los Angeles, you've been warned. We will shake you up and remake you in our own image.
At some point, people might get tired and/or annoyed with all your photography. The shooter will become the shot (will become the shooter will become the shot will become the shooter will become the shot...)
After eating, you must remember to wait 30-40 minutes for your food to digest. Then you will get to make your final decision of the cookout. Hot tub?
Or pool?
There you have it. Following this simple primer nearly guarantees your next summertime cookout will be a raging success.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
(06.10.08) Recommends:
Frightened Rabbit, The Midnight Organ Fight (Fat Cat Records, 2008).
This one comes to us courtesy of a friend who seems to specialize in finding great international indie-rock. This band hails from Scotland. They sound like the Counting Crows, if the Counting Crows were more indie rock. And from Scotland. And for those brave enough to acknowledge that August and Everything After is among the Five Most Perfect Records Of Our Generation, you have already starting listening to this album, because there's no way you could reasonably get through such a description without already clicking through to the links and diving right in.
Those in LA take note: the band plays at the Roxy on June 22. They're playing with Oxford Collapse, an old blog favorite.
Frightened Rabbit @ myspace.
This one comes to us courtesy of a friend who seems to specialize in finding great international indie-rock. This band hails from Scotland. They sound like the Counting Crows, if the Counting Crows were more indie rock. And from Scotland. And for those brave enough to acknowledge that August and Everything After is among the Five Most Perfect Records Of Our Generation, you have already starting listening to this album, because there's no way you could reasonably get through such a description without already clicking through to the links and diving right in.
Those in LA take note: the band plays at the Roxy on June 22. They're playing with Oxford Collapse, an old blog favorite.
Frightened Rabbit @ myspace.
Monday, June 09, 2008
(06.09.08) Recommends:
The track "Le petit Succes" by Olivier Libaux presents Imbecile.
Indie 103 has a Saturday morning show called Passport Approved that plays music from all over the globe. The songs can be very hit or miss, but they played this song -- it's a band from France, and that's just about all that we can figure out about this band/song -- last Saturday and it's a god damn home run. The only problem is that we can find neither an mp3 of it, nor a place where more than 30 seconds of it is streamed (here), anywhere on the internet. Additionally, we'd be willing to buy the entire album for the song (rememeber when this was, like, people's only option??), but we cannot even find a place that reliably sells the album. It's as if this song came to us in a dream and disappeared when we woke up. But the song has been dancing around our head all weekend. So we thought we'd blog about it in the hope that some kind soul will google the song and/or band and will pass along the track to us.
Indie 103 has a Saturday morning show called Passport Approved that plays music from all over the globe. The songs can be very hit or miss, but they played this song -- it's a band from France, and that's just about all that we can figure out about this band/song -- last Saturday and it's a god damn home run. The only problem is that we can find neither an mp3 of it, nor a place where more than 30 seconds of it is streamed (here), anywhere on the internet. Additionally, we'd be willing to buy the entire album for the song (rememeber when this was, like, people's only option??), but we cannot even find a place that reliably sells the album. It's as if this song came to us in a dream and disappeared when we woke up. But the song has been dancing around our head all weekend. So we thought we'd blog about it in the hope that some kind soul will google the song and/or band and will pass along the track to us.
Friday, June 06, 2008
(06.06.08) Recommends:
Winning the Title He Should Have Won at Kansas.
Growing up sports fans in the Midwest, there are several rules you Learn To Be True. One of them is this: there aren't any Real Sports Fans native to the West Coast of the country and especially not in Los Angeles -- no, no, in LA, you're told, they eat sushi at baseball games, or worse yet are vegetarians; the women are made of plastic and the men wear sunglasses at all times, probably to reduce the glare from the shiny black shirts they also wear at all times, along with gel in their hair, which you can never actually see because they're always wearing, like, fedoras.
The men and women of Los Angeles, you Learn To Be True, are many things, but Real Sports Fans are not among these things.
It was under this Belief that yesterday led us to say, nonchalantly and on several occasions, in response to chatter about the Lakers vs. Celtics series that yeah we're kinda hoping the Celtics can pull this one out. Well. Each time was met with a more dramatic double take and guttural huff, such that by the end of the day we pretended we were Uzbekistanian and No Speak English and therefore would respond to all Lakers vs. Celtics questions which a shrug of the shoulder. Perhaps, we briefly thought, there are Rules To Be Un-Learned.
But. Here's the thing. We actually do want the Celtics to pull this one out, as should you, probably. And it's not because we're one of those people who live in Los Angeles but spend all our time hating on the city. We actually love it here. Nor is it because we're just trying to be contrarian. Most people we know here weren't born here, so to them there's nothing contrarian about it. Nor is it because we are racist. [This, of course, comes from that wacky theory that says during the 80s era Lakers vs. Celtics match-ups, all white racists loved the Celtics, all black people loved the Lakers, and whites trying to be progressive rooted for the Lakers. We actually did root for those Lakers team, but it was mostly because we've always had many voices in our head, including a Tim Gunn voice, and our inner five year old Tim Gunn voice made it clear in no uncertain terms that Larry Bird Was Among the Five Ugliest Humans Ever, and thus we had to cheer for the Lakers.]
No, the reason we're pulling for Boston is simple. The Celtics have a connection. Paul Pierce plays for the Celtics. Paul Pierce played at Kansas. We went to Kansas. Bingo. Yeah, we're kinda hoping the Celtics can pull this one out.
It also happens that Paul Pierce didn't just play at Kansas. He was an All American and was on two teams that are arguably among the two best teams in the history of KU basketball (this one and this one). They will never properly be remembered as among the great college teams of all-time, however, as they are also the two primary reasons that gave Roy Williams the label of choker, for those two teams suffered two of the most miserable losses in the history of KU basketball (this one and this one).
Then Paul Pierce left as a junior. He got drafted way lower than he should have. Then he got stabbed, nearly to death.
So homeboy has had his fair share of rough patches. But now he's on the stage he should have been on all along. Certainly a stage he should have been on at least twice at KU. He's playing for all the marbles. And Good Christ, did you see how he responded last night? Took over the game.
We hope he can do it three more times.
Growing up sports fans in the Midwest, there are several rules you Learn To Be True. One of them is this: there aren't any Real Sports Fans native to the West Coast of the country and especially not in Los Angeles -- no, no, in LA, you're told, they eat sushi at baseball games, or worse yet are vegetarians; the women are made of plastic and the men wear sunglasses at all times, probably to reduce the glare from the shiny black shirts they also wear at all times, along with gel in their hair, which you can never actually see because they're always wearing, like, fedoras.
The men and women of Los Angeles, you Learn To Be True, are many things, but Real Sports Fans are not among these things.
It was under this Belief that yesterday led us to say, nonchalantly and on several occasions, in response to chatter about the Lakers vs. Celtics series that yeah we're kinda hoping the Celtics can pull this one out. Well. Each time was met with a more dramatic double take and guttural huff, such that by the end of the day we pretended we were Uzbekistanian and No Speak English and therefore would respond to all Lakers vs. Celtics questions which a shrug of the shoulder. Perhaps, we briefly thought, there are Rules To Be Un-Learned.
But. Here's the thing. We actually do want the Celtics to pull this one out, as should you, probably. And it's not because we're one of those people who live in Los Angeles but spend all our time hating on the city. We actually love it here. Nor is it because we're just trying to be contrarian. Most people we know here weren't born here, so to them there's nothing contrarian about it. Nor is it because we are racist. [This, of course, comes from that wacky theory that says during the 80s era Lakers vs. Celtics match-ups, all white racists loved the Celtics, all black people loved the Lakers, and whites trying to be progressive rooted for the Lakers. We actually did root for those Lakers team, but it was mostly because we've always had many voices in our head, including a Tim Gunn voice, and our inner five year old Tim Gunn voice made it clear in no uncertain terms that Larry Bird Was Among the Five Ugliest Humans Ever, and thus we had to cheer for the Lakers.]
No, the reason we're pulling for Boston is simple. The Celtics have a connection. Paul Pierce plays for the Celtics. Paul Pierce played at Kansas. We went to Kansas. Bingo. Yeah, we're kinda hoping the Celtics can pull this one out.
It also happens that Paul Pierce didn't just play at Kansas. He was an All American and was on two teams that are arguably among the two best teams in the history of KU basketball (this one and this one). They will never properly be remembered as among the great college teams of all-time, however, as they are also the two primary reasons that gave Roy Williams the label of choker, for those two teams suffered two of the most miserable losses in the history of KU basketball (this one and this one).
Then Paul Pierce left as a junior. He got drafted way lower than he should have. Then he got stabbed, nearly to death.
So homeboy has had his fair share of rough patches. But now he's on the stage he should have been on all along. Certainly a stage he should have been on at least twice at KU. He's playing for all the marbles. And Good Christ, did you see how he responded last night? Took over the game.
We hope he can do it three more times.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
(06.04.08) Recommends:
Track: Give Up On Ghosts.
Album: Computer vs. Banjo (release date, June 17 2008).
Band: Computer vs. Banjo.
This track came to us this morning and woowie wow. We don't see us being able to stop listening to it all day. Or all week. Give Up On Ghosts is the official Song of June 2008. We don't know anything about this band, but we hope to get our hands on the full record soon, at which point we will bring more of the bloggity blog. Until then, click the link below and say hello to your new favorite song.
Computer vs. Banjo -- Give Up On Ghosts -- mp3.
Computer vs Banjo @ myspace.
Album: Computer vs. Banjo (release date, June 17 2008).
Band: Computer vs. Banjo.
This track came to us this morning and woowie wow. We don't see us being able to stop listening to it all day. Or all week. Give Up On Ghosts is the official Song of June 2008. We don't know anything about this band, but we hope to get our hands on the full record soon, at which point we will bring more of the bloggity blog. Until then, click the link below and say hello to your new favorite song.
Computer vs. Banjo -- Give Up On Ghosts -- mp3.
Computer vs Banjo @ myspace.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
(06.03.08) Recommends:
Goat Stew.
El Parian,
1528 W. Pico Blvd.
This post is years in the making. And as with most interesting Los Angeles food stories, it all starts with Jonathan Gold. Jonathan Gold is a food critic for the LA Weekly. But he's not your parents' food critic. He's like the mad scientist of food writing: on one hand, his stuff reads more like stories from back issues of Punk Planet than Gourmet magazine; on the other hand, his rock 'n roll aesthetic belies the fact that he was awarded a Pultizer Prize in 2007 (the first food critic so honored). He has also turned his writing into perfect little radio documentaries for This American Life (scroll ahead to 45:12 to get to his story).
It was from that radio tale that we first heard Jonathan Gold talk about the goat stew at El Parian. At the time, he was living off Pico Blvd and got the idea to eat at every restaurant on Pico. When we first heard this episode we pictured Pico being perhaps a five or six mile street with a high concentration of ethic restaurants. We thought it was a cute idea. Then we moved to Los Angeles. And drove along Pico Blvd. And let's just say, claiming you are going to eat at every restaurant on Pico Blvd would be roughly equivalent to saying you are going to eat at every restaurant in Kansas (and probably even a bit more audacious). It's the first time we sensed that Jonathan Gold marches to the beat of a different drummer. We knew we had to seek out El Parian.
It's a bit hard to find because it takes up two store fronts and one of the store fronts perpetually looks closed.
But as the little blue sign in the corner indicates it is open. In fact, when we called the restaurant we were informed that it's open from 7:30am-9pm. Which is to say, people really really like the goat stew here. And apparently are willing to come very early to get it.
The menu. Although it's a little blurred out, the menu says "A Bit of Mexico in Los Angeles."
And lest you think that El Parian is joking about playing by it's own rules, you flip the menu around and find this startling proclamation.
Here's a close up.
"We reserve the right to serve beer to anyone 0-4 Maximum." For anybody who has ever eaten at a restaurant full of screaming toddlers and thought, "god, nothing would shut those small children up like serving them four beers!", well, El Parian appears to be just what you've been seeking. However, they took one look at us and, perhaps wisely, served us Diet Coke.
We've been reading lots of food books lately, mostly about how we as a culture eat, what might be wrong with that way, and how might we move forward. And one of the things of which we're convinced is that the future of food is in transparency. El Parian already understands this because as you first walk in you hear the cooks thump-thump-thumping away at goat meat and you see vats of goat right from your table.
And out of those vats comes a delicious bowl of steaming goat stew. We devoured this thing at about 10:45am and did not have to eat the rest of the day. We have yet to find a friend who is willing to travel to El Parian with us, but regardless, we can't wait to get back.
El Parian,
1528 W. Pico Blvd.
This post is years in the making. And as with most interesting Los Angeles food stories, it all starts with Jonathan Gold. Jonathan Gold is a food critic for the LA Weekly. But he's not your parents' food critic. He's like the mad scientist of food writing: on one hand, his stuff reads more like stories from back issues of Punk Planet than Gourmet magazine; on the other hand, his rock 'n roll aesthetic belies the fact that he was awarded a Pultizer Prize in 2007 (the first food critic so honored). He has also turned his writing into perfect little radio documentaries for This American Life (scroll ahead to 45:12 to get to his story).
It was from that radio tale that we first heard Jonathan Gold talk about the goat stew at El Parian. At the time, he was living off Pico Blvd and got the idea to eat at every restaurant on Pico. When we first heard this episode we pictured Pico being perhaps a five or six mile street with a high concentration of ethic restaurants. We thought it was a cute idea. Then we moved to Los Angeles. And drove along Pico Blvd. And let's just say, claiming you are going to eat at every restaurant on Pico Blvd would be roughly equivalent to saying you are going to eat at every restaurant in Kansas (and probably even a bit more audacious). It's the first time we sensed that Jonathan Gold marches to the beat of a different drummer. We knew we had to seek out El Parian.
It's a bit hard to find because it takes up two store fronts and one of the store fronts perpetually looks closed.
But as the little blue sign in the corner indicates it is open. In fact, when we called the restaurant we were informed that it's open from 7:30am-9pm. Which is to say, people really really like the goat stew here. And apparently are willing to come very early to get it.
The menu. Although it's a little blurred out, the menu says "A Bit of Mexico in Los Angeles."
And lest you think that El Parian is joking about playing by it's own rules, you flip the menu around and find this startling proclamation.
Here's a close up.
"We reserve the right to serve beer to anyone 0-4 Maximum." For anybody who has ever eaten at a restaurant full of screaming toddlers and thought, "god, nothing would shut those small children up like serving them four beers!", well, El Parian appears to be just what you've been seeking. However, they took one look at us and, perhaps wisely, served us Diet Coke.
We've been reading lots of food books lately, mostly about how we as a culture eat, what might be wrong with that way, and how might we move forward. And one of the things of which we're convinced is that the future of food is in transparency. El Parian already understands this because as you first walk in you hear the cooks thump-thump-thumping away at goat meat and you see vats of goat right from your table.
And out of those vats comes a delicious bowl of steaming goat stew. We devoured this thing at about 10:45am and did not have to eat the rest of the day. We have yet to find a friend who is willing to travel to El Parian with us, but regardless, we can't wait to get back.
Friday, May 30, 2008
(05.30.08) Recommends:
Ema and the Ghosts.
After yesterday's Beirut post, we got an email tip to check out Ema and the Ghosts. So we went to her myspace and, honestly, the first thing we noticed was her profile introduction:
Okay, as far as myspace profiles go, that's pretty crush-worthy. The next thing we noticed was the music. It's one female, an accordion, a ukulele, random bells and whistles. Completely charming. If you like Beirut or Jens Lekman or Andrew Bird or the Moldy Peaches or if you breath in oxygen and breath out carbon dioxide, we're willing to bet that you'll enjoy Ema and the Ghosts.
Ema and the Ghosts at Myspace.
After yesterday's Beirut post, we got an email tip to check out Ema and the Ghosts. So we went to her myspace and, honestly, the first thing we noticed was her profile introduction:
ema is a girl who would like to make a sound to make a feeling to make a revolution. yes, she understands the unlikelyhood of this daydream being realized but she does not care. she has more important things to worry about.
Okay, as far as myspace profiles go, that's pretty crush-worthy. The next thing we noticed was the music. It's one female, an accordion, a ukulele, random bells and whistles. Completely charming. If you like Beirut or Jens Lekman or Andrew Bird or the Moldy Peaches or if you breath in oxygen and breath out carbon dioxide, we're willing to bet that you'll enjoy Ema and the Ghosts.
Ema and the Ghosts at Myspace.
Thursday, May 29, 2008
(05.29.08) Recommends:
The Los Angeles Return of Beirut.
Oh, Zach Condon. What more can we possibly say about him? He released music in 2006 and it was among our favorite music of that year. He released some more music in 2007 and it was among our favorite music of that year.
He's an interesting artist for many reasons, but one of the things that strikes us is this. If you read this blog because you're really into music, you're familiar with Beirut. If you read this blog simply because you know us, you're probably not familiar with Beirut. And if you get out from beyond your computers right now and ask the first five people you come across if they know of Beirut, after clarifying that you're talking about the band, we can almost guarantee that you'll be meet with blank stares. So here's what's awesome. Last time Beirut came through Los Angeles -- October '07 -- they played two shows at the Avalon (the first of which we know for sure was sold out). The Avalon is not the Hollywood Bowl, but it easily fits in excess of 1,000 people. It's quite impressive playing, let alone selling out, a venue that size while being a band that is in large measure obscure.
And not only did Beirut sell out the Avalon. The crowd was as attentive as any crowd we've ever seen. Hanging on his every word. Singing along to every word. And at the time of these shows Beirut's second full length album had been officially released less than a week, yet we overheard at least two people claim various songs on the album were their favorite songs of all time. And we don't think this was simply hipster hyperbole. Zach Condon has an effect on people that is true and pure and above all else real. (As an example, after the show, we went home and were inspired to start goofing around with our camera. We took a picture of the concert ticket and within thirty minutes had created what has turned out to be easily one of this blog's most viewed posts).
People of our generation, we're the Mtv generation. We've been advertised to our entire lives. Since our earliest years, we've been sold soda and shoes and lifestyles and dreams. It's become hard to tell the difference between what we really think and believe and feel and what we're told we're supposed to think and believe and feel. It seems that every time we stumble upon something authentic and different, in come the marketers to repackage it and sell it on a mass scale. It's enough to make one crazy. Unfortunately, cynical, we think, is what it's made most of us. There's a sense of sadness that pervades our generation because we desperately seek things real -- real emotions, real connections, whatever -- but too often feel we are left with the manufactured, facsimiles. We want to know that the emotions that we experience are the emotions we actually have, and not the emotions that marketers and advertisers and media executives are feeding us.
And into this vast space steps Zach Condon. He is real and pure and haunting and haunted and seems like he arrived in our speakers straight out of a novel. People are responding, we suppose, because they fear this moment is fleeting. That Zach Condon will one day just up and vanish. Well, for now Beirut is back for two shows. This time at the Wiltern. The band is still pretty obscure. But that hasn't stopped them from already selling out the Friday show.
If you sometimes feel overwhelmed with the cynical and the snarky and the snide and the sarcastic, we really recommend going to one of these shows. We guarantee they will be life affirming. And that's a good thing.
Beirut -- various tracks -- streaming audio.
Oh, Zach Condon. What more can we possibly say about him? He released music in 2006 and it was among our favorite music of that year. He released some more music in 2007 and it was among our favorite music of that year.
He's an interesting artist for many reasons, but one of the things that strikes us is this. If you read this blog because you're really into music, you're familiar with Beirut. If you read this blog simply because you know us, you're probably not familiar with Beirut. And if you get out from beyond your computers right now and ask the first five people you come across if they know of Beirut, after clarifying that you're talking about the band, we can almost guarantee that you'll be meet with blank stares. So here's what's awesome. Last time Beirut came through Los Angeles -- October '07 -- they played two shows at the Avalon (the first of which we know for sure was sold out). The Avalon is not the Hollywood Bowl, but it easily fits in excess of 1,000 people. It's quite impressive playing, let alone selling out, a venue that size while being a band that is in large measure obscure.
And not only did Beirut sell out the Avalon. The crowd was as attentive as any crowd we've ever seen. Hanging on his every word. Singing along to every word. And at the time of these shows Beirut's second full length album had been officially released less than a week, yet we overheard at least two people claim various songs on the album were their favorite songs of all time. And we don't think this was simply hipster hyperbole. Zach Condon has an effect on people that is true and pure and above all else real. (As an example, after the show, we went home and were inspired to start goofing around with our camera. We took a picture of the concert ticket and within thirty minutes had created what has turned out to be easily one of this blog's most viewed posts).
People of our generation, we're the Mtv generation. We've been advertised to our entire lives. Since our earliest years, we've been sold soda and shoes and lifestyles and dreams. It's become hard to tell the difference between what we really think and believe and feel and what we're told we're supposed to think and believe and feel. It seems that every time we stumble upon something authentic and different, in come the marketers to repackage it and sell it on a mass scale. It's enough to make one crazy. Unfortunately, cynical, we think, is what it's made most of us. There's a sense of sadness that pervades our generation because we desperately seek things real -- real emotions, real connections, whatever -- but too often feel we are left with the manufactured, facsimiles. We want to know that the emotions that we experience are the emotions we actually have, and not the emotions that marketers and advertisers and media executives are feeding us.
And into this vast space steps Zach Condon. He is real and pure and haunting and haunted and seems like he arrived in our speakers straight out of a novel. People are responding, we suppose, because they fear this moment is fleeting. That Zach Condon will one day just up and vanish. Well, for now Beirut is back for two shows. This time at the Wiltern. The band is still pretty obscure. But that hasn't stopped them from already selling out the Friday show.
If you sometimes feel overwhelmed with the cynical and the snarky and the snide and the sarcastic, we really recommend going to one of these shows. We guarantee they will be life affirming. And that's a good thing.
Beirut -- various tracks -- streaming audio.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
(05.28.08) Recommends:
The Track "Creeper" from Islands' "Arm's Way" (Anti, 2008).
We're so underground that we've been anxiously awaiting Islands backlash since Nick Thornborn was still in the Unicorns. We're kidding, of course (click here for some background history); there are few bands in recent years that we've listened to with as much awe as the Unicorns and then Islands (though we've always thought Islands makes some of their songs about 90 seconds too long). So we waited with baited breath for the newest Islands release -- literally: we were on a strict fish bait diet for like three weeks prior to the release.
It came out several weeks ago but we've held off writing about it because we wanted to fully dig into it. And, frankly, it's also taken several weeks because it leads off with Creeper and it took us about nine days before our brain would allow us to move on to track 2.
So today we're gonna drop some Islands crumbs. If you listen to only one track on Arm's Way, it should be this one.
We're so underground that we've been anxiously awaiting Islands backlash since Nick Thornborn was still in the Unicorns. We're kidding, of course (click here for some background history); there are few bands in recent years that we've listened to with as much awe as the Unicorns and then Islands (though we've always thought Islands makes some of their songs about 90 seconds too long). So we waited with baited breath for the newest Islands release -- literally: we were on a strict fish bait diet for like three weeks prior to the release.
It came out several weeks ago but we've held off writing about it because we wanted to fully dig into it. And, frankly, it's also taken several weeks because it leads off with Creeper and it took us about nine days before our brain would allow us to move on to track 2.
So today we're gonna drop some Islands crumbs. If you listen to only one track on Arm's Way, it should be this one.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
(05.27.08) Recommends:
Bharta.
Surya India,
8048 W. 3rd St.
We've lived in both the San Francisco Bay and Los Angeles. We notice certain differences between the two. There is a certain rivalry between them, though probably not as much as people outside of the two areas would imagine. We've also come to appreciate certain similarities between the two as well. And say what you will about the two areas, but this much is hard to argue with: living in either one is pretty different than living in Kansas.
There are many differences that we expected, and expected to enjoy, before we moved -- the weather, the geographic diversity, the concentration of ambitious young people who flock here from all over the country and world. But these are pretty much the differences that lured us here in the first place. There are also differences that we didn't really think much about, but that we now find ourselves loving and they leave us unable to imagine how we could have gone so long living without them. One of the most pleasantly surprising differences that we've come to love is the diversity of ethnic food. We have never really been Food People; pasta and chicken pretty much got us to our early 20s. And still today, we cannot be considered foodies or food snobs (mostly because we just eat what is put in front of us with little understanding of or regard for the ingredients or how it's put together or the proper verbs used to describe food and ambiance), but we have been surprised to find out how much we love exploring new restaurants, and particularly restaurants that offer cuisine that is rare or non-existent in Kansas, it of the 91% white population.
So this weekend's revelation: bharta. Pardon our French -- we're talking food here, so an illusion to the French somehow seems necessary, right? -- but: Holy Shit. We ordered this, along with three or four other dishes, from Surya and had it delieverd. And when a Fellow Blogger put it on the table it looked to us like a container of tomato puree and we were neither excited with its look nor sure what to do with it. And even now, all we know for sure about bharta is that it is a vegetarian India dish made out of eggplant. But we were told to put some on our plate over our rice and we did what we were told and, again: Holy Shit.
We don't think we've ever thought of eggplant and crack at the same time, but bharta was bridging all sorts of divides this weekend. And again, because we are not foodies, we don't know if Bharta is "authenthic" (but trust us when we say we don't care). For all we know, bharta might be the Indian equivalent of a chili dog or a funnel cake -- something unsophicated for which your love can only be expressed to yourself while you are driving alone in the car or taking a shower.
Whatever bharta's story, we loved it and ate the whole container and when it was gone insisted on scraping up the container with nan, to make sure every last lick was gone.
And here we sit, Tuesday morning, and all we can think about is the next time we get to have it.
Surya India:
On the web.
Reviews.
Surya India,
8048 W. 3rd St.
We've lived in both the San Francisco Bay and Los Angeles. We notice certain differences between the two. There is a certain rivalry between them, though probably not as much as people outside of the two areas would imagine. We've also come to appreciate certain similarities between the two as well. And say what you will about the two areas, but this much is hard to argue with: living in either one is pretty different than living in Kansas.
There are many differences that we expected, and expected to enjoy, before we moved -- the weather, the geographic diversity, the concentration of ambitious young people who flock here from all over the country and world. But these are pretty much the differences that lured us here in the first place. There are also differences that we didn't really think much about, but that we now find ourselves loving and they leave us unable to imagine how we could have gone so long living without them. One of the most pleasantly surprising differences that we've come to love is the diversity of ethnic food. We have never really been Food People; pasta and chicken pretty much got us to our early 20s. And still today, we cannot be considered foodies or food snobs (mostly because we just eat what is put in front of us with little understanding of or regard for the ingredients or how it's put together or the proper verbs used to describe food and ambiance), but we have been surprised to find out how much we love exploring new restaurants, and particularly restaurants that offer cuisine that is rare or non-existent in Kansas, it of the 91% white population.
So this weekend's revelation: bharta. Pardon our French -- we're talking food here, so an illusion to the French somehow seems necessary, right? -- but: Holy Shit. We ordered this, along with three or four other dishes, from Surya and had it delieverd. And when a Fellow Blogger put it on the table it looked to us like a container of tomato puree and we were neither excited with its look nor sure what to do with it. And even now, all we know for sure about bharta is that it is a vegetarian India dish made out of eggplant. But we were told to put some on our plate over our rice and we did what we were told and, again: Holy Shit.
We don't think we've ever thought of eggplant and crack at the same time, but bharta was bridging all sorts of divides this weekend. And again, because we are not foodies, we don't know if Bharta is "authenthic" (but trust us when we say we don't care). For all we know, bharta might be the Indian equivalent of a chili dog or a funnel cake -- something unsophicated for which your love can only be expressed to yourself while you are driving alone in the car or taking a shower.
Whatever bharta's story, we loved it and ate the whole container and when it was gone insisted on scraping up the container with nan, to make sure every last lick was gone.
And here we sit, Tuesday morning, and all we can think about is the next time we get to have it.
Surya India:
On the web.
Reviews.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
(05.21.08) Recommends:
Karma Police.
Question: What do you get for inventing bands like Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync?
Answer: Why, 25 years in prision, natch.
Question: What do you get for inventing bands like Backstreet Boys and 'N Sync?
Answer: Why, 25 years in prision, natch.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
(05.20.08) Recommends:
Carbon Dating.
As an alternative to, you know, Online Dating.
Think about it, people. Think about it.
As an alternative to, you know, Online Dating.
Think about it, people. Think about it.
Monday, May 19, 2008
(05.19.08) Recommends:
Mount Righteous.
This is some kind of 11-piece acoustic-indie-rock-punk marching band. We keep seeing this name pop up in our inboxes and they're playing a bunch of local shows in the coming weeks so we're very excited to catch them live. We've been listening to their myspace all day and we like what we've heard. They kind of remind us of Head of Femur, (myspace) which is another old live favorite of the blog.
This is some kind of 11-piece acoustic-indie-rock-punk marching band. We keep seeing this name pop up in our inboxes and they're playing a bunch of local shows in the coming weeks so we're very excited to catch them live. We've been listening to their myspace all day and we like what we've heard. They kind of remind us of Head of Femur, (myspace) which is another old live favorite of the blog.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
(05.14.08) Recommends:
Willy's Favorite Burrito (w/ grilled Skirt steak instead of chicken).
Bossa Nova,
7181 W Sunset Blvd.
We carry three things in our pockets (we actually carry things in our pockets Huck Finn-style, long ago eschewing the notion of wallets and whatnots) at all times: (1) a bank card; (2) a form of government-issued identification; (3) a card that says "We Love Burritos."
So take it from self-styled burrito fiends, when we say there may be no better burrito available in this country than Willy's Favorite Burrito at Bossa Nova, a Brazilian place in the middle of Hollywood. Who woulda figured, right? We had previously believed that the best burrito available in this country was the orange-sauce ladened crack burrito of La Victoria. But Bossa Nova is making us question the very principles around which our world is organized. And never has such disorganization and chaos satisfied us and fortified us and bowled over our little burrito-loving brains as Willy's Favorite Burrito.
If you live in Los Angeles and act on one recommendation from this blog this week, make it to go to Bossa Nova and order this. Also: you should probably invite us along.
Two Additional Notes:
One. On the menu, the burrito is found under "Sandwiches". Do not let this alarm you. You are in Hollywood after all and they just do things a little differently here -- an artist's constitution and whatnot. You say tomato, we say tomahto. You say sandwich, we say burrito. Whatever. We'll deal.
Two. There are several Bossa Nova locations, but the great thing about the Hollywood location is that before or after your burrito you can go across the street and catch some live theater. Seventh Veil specializes in putting on what we guess is termed Off Broadway productions. The first time we heard about the Bossa Nova/Seventh Veil combo was back in the fall, during the heat of the writer's strike. Our friend went and told us -- we presumed that it was in solidarity with the writer's -- that the cast members choose to perform the play totally naked. Frankly, our friend found the whole thing was a bit startling and we're not sure every show is like this. But you'll basically just have to go and find out for yourself. And if you act on that recommendation? There's no need to actually invite us along. Once bitten, twice shy and all that.
Bossa Nova,
7181 W Sunset Blvd.
We carry three things in our pockets (we actually carry things in our pockets Huck Finn-style, long ago eschewing the notion of wallets and whatnots) at all times: (1) a bank card; (2) a form of government-issued identification; (3) a card that says "We Love Burritos."
So take it from self-styled burrito fiends, when we say there may be no better burrito available in this country than Willy's Favorite Burrito at Bossa Nova, a Brazilian place in the middle of Hollywood. Who woulda figured, right? We had previously believed that the best burrito available in this country was the orange-sauce ladened crack burrito of La Victoria. But Bossa Nova is making us question the very principles around which our world is organized. And never has such disorganization and chaos satisfied us and fortified us and bowled over our little burrito-loving brains as Willy's Favorite Burrito.
If you live in Los Angeles and act on one recommendation from this blog this week, make it to go to Bossa Nova and order this. Also: you should probably invite us along.
Two Additional Notes:
One. On the menu, the burrito is found under "Sandwiches". Do not let this alarm you. You are in Hollywood after all and they just do things a little differently here -- an artist's constitution and whatnot. You say tomato, we say tomahto. You say sandwich, we say burrito. Whatever. We'll deal.
Two. There are several Bossa Nova locations, but the great thing about the Hollywood location is that before or after your burrito you can go across the street and catch some live theater. Seventh Veil specializes in putting on what we guess is termed Off Broadway productions. The first time we heard about the Bossa Nova/Seventh Veil combo was back in the fall, during the heat of the writer's strike. Our friend went and told us -- we presumed that it was in solidarity with the writer's -- that the cast members choose to perform the play totally naked. Frankly, our friend found the whole thing was a bit startling and we're not sure every show is like this. But you'll basically just have to go and find out for yourself. And if you act on that recommendation? There's no need to actually invite us along. Once bitten, twice shy and all that.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
(05.13.08) Recommends:
The track "We're From Barcelona" by the band I'm From Barcelona.
Okay, since last Thursday we have had this stuck in our head for the first time since late-'06/early-'07. Here is the tale.
Part 1. We were living in Northern California when this song was first released, back in 2006. By January 2007 we were dating a girl who lived in San Francisco. She did not just live in San Francisco though, no no, she lived on California Street at the peak of Nob Hill. Now, anybody who has spent any time in San Francisco on California Street at the peak of Nob Hill understands that this area offers some of the most breathtaking views of anywhere in the United States.
Part 2. At the time, we were also living the Student Life, and sometimes -- in particular Friday's, when we had no classes and could go roam around freely -- the Student Life is the Best Life Their Is.
Part 3. So on many of these Friday afternoons in January 2007, we'd find ourselves driving up to San Francisco to spend the weekend with said girlfriend. And we burned a CD that featured only this song -- anybody who reads this blog with any regularity knows that when we get a song on the brain, we will listen to nothing else until we've completely mastered the song -- so we would be driving windows rolled down radio cranked up, slowly enveloped by the smell of the Bay and breathtaking views and this song. Intoxicated with life. We would shout the lyrics at the top of our lungs -- the band is, a bit confusingly given the name, from Sweden and even though we think the song is mostly in English, the only part we knew we were getting right was the "la-la-la-la-laaaaa la-la-la-laaaa lalalalaaaaaa." [1]
Part 4. When this relationship ended -- which is the terminus of all relationships that are predicated almost entirely upon the stunning vistas afforded by the significant others' neighborhood (yes, yes, we're horrible people for saying this, but let this be a Lesson For Us All) -- this single song CD got shoved to the bottom of the CD pile/got lost somewhere amid all the crap in the backseat/trunk/under the drivers or passengers seat of our car. One of the two. It's been a long time since we've seen the CD so it's location, really, could be anywhere at this point.
Part 5. But the song made an unexpected reprise in our lives at the Ben Solee show on Thursday. It was played over the speakers between Ben's sound check and the beginning of his set proper. The show was great, but now we're retroactively wondering if having this song as a lead-off didn't put us in a particularly sentimental mood. And since that show, the catchy song has lodged its way back into our brain. We've literally been whistling it in the shower. Whistling it on the metro to work. Whistling it in the office. If we're feeling particularly giddy -- and we're sure nobody is within earshoot of us -- we've even been belting out the old "la-la-la-la-laaaa la-la-la-la-laaaaa lalalalaaaa" line. Then, last night while taking the metro home, we got a deep-seated urge for edamame. So we stopped into our neighborhood crap sushi joint (a place so crappy that we refuse to even recognize it by name it in this space) for a pre-dinner snack. And what instantly popped up on the speakers as we sat down? Why, "We're From Barcelona." So we figured that the gods, in addition to being crazy, must want us to blog about this song.
Part 6 . So here we are. Blogging about the song. We really hope everybody will click on the mp3 below and give the song a try. It really is one of the most catchy, whistleable, damn near perfect pop songs crafted in the last twenty fives years.
I'm From Barcelona -- We're From Barcelona -- mp3.
---
[1] A little known fact is that many school children in Sweden actually speak French. So, if our recollection of high school French is correct, this lyric, translated from the original French means roughly "the-the-the-theeeeee the the the theeeeeee thethethetheeeee."
Okay, since last Thursday we have had this stuck in our head for the first time since late-'06/early-'07. Here is the tale.
Part 1. We were living in Northern California when this song was first released, back in 2006. By January 2007 we were dating a girl who lived in San Francisco. She did not just live in San Francisco though, no no, she lived on California Street at the peak of Nob Hill. Now, anybody who has spent any time in San Francisco on California Street at the peak of Nob Hill understands that this area offers some of the most breathtaking views of anywhere in the United States.
Part 2. At the time, we were also living the Student Life, and sometimes -- in particular Friday's, when we had no classes and could go roam around freely -- the Student Life is the Best Life Their Is.
Part 3. So on many of these Friday afternoons in January 2007, we'd find ourselves driving up to San Francisco to spend the weekend with said girlfriend. And we burned a CD that featured only this song -- anybody who reads this blog with any regularity knows that when we get a song on the brain, we will listen to nothing else until we've completely mastered the song -- so we would be driving windows rolled down radio cranked up, slowly enveloped by the smell of the Bay and breathtaking views and this song. Intoxicated with life. We would shout the lyrics at the top of our lungs -- the band is, a bit confusingly given the name, from Sweden and even though we think the song is mostly in English, the only part we knew we were getting right was the "la-la-la-la-laaaaa la-la-la-laaaa lalalalaaaaaa." [1]
Part 4. When this relationship ended -- which is the terminus of all relationships that are predicated almost entirely upon the stunning vistas afforded by the significant others' neighborhood (yes, yes, we're horrible people for saying this, but let this be a Lesson For Us All) -- this single song CD got shoved to the bottom of the CD pile/got lost somewhere amid all the crap in the backseat/trunk/under the drivers or passengers seat of our car. One of the two. It's been a long time since we've seen the CD so it's location, really, could be anywhere at this point.
Part 5. But the song made an unexpected reprise in our lives at the Ben Solee show on Thursday. It was played over the speakers between Ben's sound check and the beginning of his set proper. The show was great, but now we're retroactively wondering if having this song as a lead-off didn't put us in a particularly sentimental mood. And since that show, the catchy song has lodged its way back into our brain. We've literally been whistling it in the shower. Whistling it on the metro to work. Whistling it in the office. If we're feeling particularly giddy -- and we're sure nobody is within earshoot of us -- we've even been belting out the old "la-la-la-la-laaaa la-la-la-la-laaaaa lalalalaaaa" line. Then, last night while taking the metro home, we got a deep-seated urge for edamame. So we stopped into our neighborhood crap sushi joint (a place so crappy that we refuse to even recognize it by name it in this space) for a pre-dinner snack. And what instantly popped up on the speakers as we sat down? Why, "We're From Barcelona." So we figured that the gods, in addition to being crazy, must want us to blog about this song.
Part 6 . So here we are. Blogging about the song. We really hope everybody will click on the mp3 below and give the song a try. It really is one of the most catchy, whistleable, damn near perfect pop songs crafted in the last twenty fives years.
I'm From Barcelona -- We're From Barcelona -- mp3.
---
[1] A little known fact is that many school children in Sweden actually speak French. So, if our recollection of high school French is correct, this lyric, translated from the original French means roughly "the-the-the-theeeeee the the the theeeeeee thethethetheeeee."
Monday, May 12, 2008
(05.12.08) Recommends:
Cheap Thrills.
This is Andrew Bird's latest installment in the Measure for Measure blog.
(More info here and here).
This is Andrew Bird's latest installment in the Measure for Measure blog.
(More info here and here).
Friday, May 09, 2008
(05.09.08) Recommends:
Ben Sollee.
So we just received an email about this gentleman earlier in the week. The email basically said: this dude is kinda like Andrew Bird and he's playing an early show at the Silverlake Lounge on Thursday and you like both Andrew Bird and early shows at the Silverlake Lounge so go check this out already. And so we went and checked it out.
Ben Sollee is 24 and plays the cello. He is a bit like Andrew Bird, we suppose. He's also a bit New Grassy, and jazzy. Here's the thing. We spend lots of time consuming obscure-to-somewhat-obscure media. And then we come here and make recommendations. Often very enthusiastically. We do this despite our knowledge that many people will never act on the recommendations, or click though to the linnks we present (sad, true, but we understand that everybody is under a constant delgue of stuff that must be done, so we understand sometimes people just do not/cannot take the time to take chances with culture), and that which we recommend might not find an audience as big as we believe it deserves.
But this recommendation is different. As a general rule, solo cellists do not perform at the Silverlake Lounge to the rapt attention of a roomful of hipsters. But here's the thing. He also plays in Sparrow Quartet, a band that also includes Bela Fleck (the offical banjo hero of this blog), so he'll play to the rapt attention of the bluegrass festival circuit this summer. We could see him catching on big with the Dave Matthews Band crowd.
He reminds us a bit of someone like Andrew Bird, or someone like Zach Condon of Beirut in that he is obviously inspired by a force that touches few people. Most young people do not wake up and say "I want to be a cello player. I want to fuse jazz and bluegrass and rock. And I want to do it in front of both small rooms in Silverlake and large fields of the Rockies." But -- and god bless him for this -- Ben Sollee does walk around with thoughts like these in his head. And that's why we're convinced that he is very needed. Because society is better for people who think these strange, but captivating, thoughts.
Endnote: For people in LA, Ben is opening for Tapes 'n Tapes tonight at the Troubadour.
Ben Solle @ myspace.
Ben Sollee featured on NPR.
So we just received an email about this gentleman earlier in the week. The email basically said: this dude is kinda like Andrew Bird and he's playing an early show at the Silverlake Lounge on Thursday and you like both Andrew Bird and early shows at the Silverlake Lounge so go check this out already. And so we went and checked it out.
Ben Sollee is 24 and plays the cello. He is a bit like Andrew Bird, we suppose. He's also a bit New Grassy, and jazzy. Here's the thing. We spend lots of time consuming obscure-to-somewhat-obscure media. And then we come here and make recommendations. Often very enthusiastically. We do this despite our knowledge that many people will never act on the recommendations, or click though to the linnks we present (sad, true, but we understand that everybody is under a constant delgue of stuff that must be done, so we understand sometimes people just do not/cannot take the time to take chances with culture), and that which we recommend might not find an audience as big as we believe it deserves.
But this recommendation is different. As a general rule, solo cellists do not perform at the Silverlake Lounge to the rapt attention of a roomful of hipsters. But here's the thing. He also plays in Sparrow Quartet, a band that also includes Bela Fleck (the offical banjo hero of this blog), so he'll play to the rapt attention of the bluegrass festival circuit this summer. We could see him catching on big with the Dave Matthews Band crowd.
He reminds us a bit of someone like Andrew Bird, or someone like Zach Condon of Beirut in that he is obviously inspired by a force that touches few people. Most young people do not wake up and say "I want to be a cello player. I want to fuse jazz and bluegrass and rock. And I want to do it in front of both small rooms in Silverlake and large fields of the Rockies." But -- and god bless him for this -- Ben Sollee does walk around with thoughts like these in his head. And that's why we're convinced that he is very needed. Because society is better for people who think these strange, but captivating, thoughts.
Endnote: For people in LA, Ben is opening for Tapes 'n Tapes tonight at the Troubadour.
Ben Solle @ myspace.
Ben Sollee featured on NPR.
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