I realize this is a cover, but with Devotchka's Spanish flavor added it takes on the quality of a new song that in my opinion is more romantic than any other version I've heard. Love, love, love.
As a side note, I saw Devotchka play the other night and it was one of the better live shows I've ever seen.
One of my favorite ways to spend a lazy Sunday morning is in bed with Vincent Moon. Ok, he's actually a music video director and artist whom I'm mildly obsessed with, and this is one of his projects that is worth checking out. I can spend hours on this site, and have done just that this morning.
The Bowerbirds' performances are particularly soothing to me today.
I have a gender bias when it comes to music. Against my own gender.
It's no secret that I'm a rather huge music snob in general, but I tend to hastily judge a woman's music even more harshly than I do a man's. Not sure why that is. I'm sure there's some psychological explanation, but suffice to say, I tend to dig male artists in general more than females, save the occasional exception here and there.
The female artists I do gravitate towards tend to be the ones who know how to seriously belt it out - those who can simultaneously shake the rooftops and kick some ass (usually that of some foolish man who did them wrong, and probably while wearing stilettos). I love the powerful ones - those who display a fierceness about them, a fierceness that is of course complemented by a tender vulnerability they'll willingly expose once you've earned it. Maybe because that's the woman I want to be: the woman who will love you well and love you right - just don't take her for granted because you're most definitely gonna hear about it if you do.
This is why I love Florence Welch so. She does score bonus points for her kickass red hair, of course - but beyond that, her voice sends chills down my spine. She's not just holding the mic and going through the motions - she pours her heart and soul out, and dares you to take her or leave her. If I could sing, I'd want to be able to sing like that, with a voice that isn't pleading with you to accept her; but is rather declaring to the world, "I am woman; hear me roar."
This is my favorite song of Florence and the Machine's, and Florence is absolutely amazing in this particular performance at Glastonbury 2009. I simply can't get enough of this video.
So I'm headed south tomorrow for the Coachella festival. One thing you may or may not know about me is that music festivals are my grown-up version of Disneyland. I remember being a child on summer vacation at Disneyland, where I experienced such sensory overload that I felt my head might actually explode from all of the excitement. A great deal of squealing and screaming and jumping up and down was surely involved. A festival generates a similar sentiment for me now. The energy is just crazy good and there is more music than I could ever possibly take in all at once, and yes, head explosion indeed seems like a very distinct possibility when I'm there.
So, I'm off to play in my own equivalent of a fantasy land here on Earth with some of my favorite people. Lovin my life.
This guy will not be at Coachella and has nothing to do with the festival as far as I know; but this song came on randomly on the Passion Pit station on Pandora today and I kinda liked it. Every girl in the world should be so lucky as to have some musician who is entirely unworthy of her love write an "I-know-I-don't-deserve-to-be-your-man-but-please-love-me-anyway" song for her. And then when he does, the girl should thank him for the gesture, and immediately dump his ass.
When I was working for the Department of Retirement in Washington state, I had a 76-year-old man sing this to me over the phone. He said he used to sing it to his wife, who had recently passed away. He did nothing but praise her and talk of how much he loved her. I'm pretty sure I fell in love with him during that conversation.
This video is better, but it's disabled for embedding.
Oh, hi. Remember me? I'm still alive - working, playing, and obsessing over music, politics, and unattainable men, in no particular order.
Here is your damn song of the day/week/month. One member of this duo (known as Yours) slept on the floor of my living room along with the rest of the band known as Oh Captain, My Captain not too long ago. This is another project of his that I have to say is pretty incredible. And you should know I am such an unabashed music snob that I would never endorse a band I didn't find to be incredible, even if I knew the guys. In fact, I once dated a guy who was perfect on paper but his band was such shit that I just couldn't bring myself to date him anymore. I mean, seriously - if your band is such a monstrosity and you can't recognize it, then what hope could we possibly have for a future together? Unless I am - God forbid - stricken deaf someday, then your shitty band will be an absolute dealbreaker.
Anyway, without further ado, here you have the amazing Yours, from the city that still holds my heart, my beloved Portland:
Pandora was kicking some serious ass today on the YYY's station, and it threw out this little gem from my Artist of the Decade (00-09), which I hadn't heard in quite a long time. I love the song's emotional, borderline-psychotic lyrics, combined with Thom's typical (and oh-so-endearing) oddness in this live performance.
I have this sort of fantasy about many of Radiohead's songs being written by a sociopath with serial killer potential. Seriously though, how many of Thom Yorke's songs can you name that are about tender, innocent romance? The ones that have any sort of romantic theme whatsoever are more the sinister, obsessive kind - like the I-would-carry-a-vial-of-your-blood-in-my-pocket kind of romance. Like Angelina and Billy Bob. Like Marilyn Manson and - well, ANYONE he dates. It's the kind of romance where maybe for half a minute you're thinking that degree of intensity and devotion is kinda sweet, but then you're just completely freaked out by it. And then you promptly change your number and e-mail address. And potentially your name, too.
I'll drown my beliefs
To have your babies
I'll dress like your niece
To wash your swollen feet
Just don't leave
Don't leave
I'm not living
I'm just killing time
Your tiny hands
Your crazy kitten smile
Just don't leave
Don't leave
And true love waits
In haunted attics
And true love lives
On lollipops and crisps
This little girl is so damn cute, I could just stick her in my pocket and pull her out on overcast days like today to sing for me and melt my heart. Such a lovely little song - a bit of a tearjerker when you're an emotional sap like myself.
