Hahahaha Hold Steady Hold Steady Hold Steady

Okay look I had this crazy idea a while back.

See, on The Hold Steady's website lyrics page they have a section labeled "miscellaneous." There are five songs there, and I had located two, "Hot Fries" and "Curves & Nerves."

And one day last semester I thought, I need to find these other three songs. BUT HOW?

I e-mailed Tad Kubler, one of the guys in the band, and he told me the easiest way was iTunes.

"ITUNES?!?!?" I bellowed. "Tad, you dense fuck, I don't have iTunes!! That's not easy at all! FUCK, MAN!!!!" That was my reaction.

Now jump ahead to yesterday, when I asked Teresa to look on her version of iTunes for those three songs ("You Gotta Dance (with Who You Came to the Dance With)," "Milkcrate Mosh," and "Modesto Is not that Sweet"). I really wanted "Milkcrate Mosh," because of the hilarity of the lyrics online. How could you not love the charming closing couplet, "Went down in the Denver slums and woke up in the Sugar Mountain Pines / Only to find that what you put into your mouth always gets into your mind"?

That one wasn't on iTunes, but "You Gotta Dance" and "Modesto" were. And so was a little number from the Boys and Girls in America recording called "Girls Like Status." So we bought them all, $3 total, there we go.

Holy hell. Hold Steady rocks hard. If they had put "Girls Like Status" on Boys and Girls, I swear I would have given it an A. What did I give it, anyway? I would have given it something higher. It's so fucking cool.

And "You Gotta Dance" is really ballsy. It's maybe their most intense, straight-rocking song, passing up "Cattle and the Creeping Things" or "Same Kooks" for that title. It's older, I think. I'm pretty sure it was a B-side on the album Almost Killed Me. It's a great song, though.

"Modesto" is lame. It's slow and nondescript and you want it to be over. Sadly, once in a while Hold Steady forgets their own power and fails to rock. That's okay.

So if you have iTunes, lay down a couple dollars for "You Gotta Dance (with Who You Came to the Dance With)" and "Girls Like Status." Totally worth it.

In the meantime today T and I did little. We went to Target, she got a watch. Our dishwasher doesn't work so well. It batted about .300 on the dishes we put in there today. So I got to hand-wash them, which sounds like backhanded sarcastic bitching, but I actually like washing dishes. Tomorrow we explore the Denver bus system. We're going to ride it to my school and hers, and probably get lost somewhere in there.

Take care now.

Love,

Steve

I'm gonna post so often you'll get tired of it.

Here we are in Denver. T and I have moved in. We have an apartment and everything. See, I am a functioning human being.

Our place is really nice. We have a bed and a couch and a TV and a shower that mostly produces warm water. And sometimes cold water.

Hey listen everyone I got an account on Facebook. I made fun of it in the past, and I was right, of course. But now I'm right to join it. Make me your friend so we can be friends.

I went to my school for the first time the other day. It was a nice place. It has an awesome view of the downtown, which is maybe two blocks away. We didn't get lost or nothing.

Today we're going to Teresa's school. She's been there before with her mom but I have not, with her mom or otherwise. Bet it's not as awesome as my school.

Okay I plan on updating the blog often, so I'll talk to you soon. In the meantime, somebody read www.qwantz.com and tell me what I've missed. I haven't read Dinosaur Comics for ages.

Love,

Steve

Hahahaha not since January?!?!?

Hi there everybody!

It has been six months since I wrote a word on this blog. Is this not ridiculous? It is.

Here is what has been happening:
1. I graduated from UD.
2. Sam got married. To Eileen, idiots.
3. I worked at Giant Eagle, fourth trip.
4. I sat around Cuyahoga Falls, listening to echoes.
5. Teresa visited.
6. Visit to Alyssa's house in Fort Wayne.
7. Family vacation, featuring Joe, Teresa, and Aaron and Emily.

Next is moving to Denver. That's going to happen August 2. Teresa and her mother are already there (and their dog). That's when you will read this, I assume, because it will be in my profile again.

This is a very exciting time and I am excited to be in it. Oh boy, basically.

No really I'm excited but also nervous about various things like school (University of Colorado at Denver) and finding a job and all that shit. In other news I am just discovering how good Arrested Development was (and, by extension, what shitheads FOX executives must be). It's my goal to greet everyone as Buster would: "Hey, brother," "Hey, neighbor," "Hey, douchebags." Although I think by and large I'm more the George Michael type.

Okay now take care. There will be more updates to this blog when I arrive in Denver.

Love,

Steve

When in doubt, blame capitalism.

I just want to proudly present a new Flyer News article to you. I think it's pretty good. It should be getting some hilarious responses, too.

It might not be up right now, but it should be up soon at www.flyernews.com. The headline should involve "capitalism" and "human rights," so look around for that.

Enjoy.

Love,

Steve

America has lost its mind.

Okay, I know this might not seem like a huge deal. But somehow it really bothers me.

Today CNN columnist Keith Oppenheim tells me that Muslim immigrant cab drivers in Minnesota are refusing fares carrying alcohol. According to a fatwa from "local Muslim leaders," transporting alcohol is forbidden.

Okay, whatever. I can understand that. But then the story says cabbies who refuse a fare have to go to the end of an hour-long line, and may face harsher punishments. For declining riders.

Then there's the story's poll. "Should cab drivers be able to refuse passengers on religious grounds?" A distressing 86% say "No."

NO! No? What the fuck is that?? You think if the story was about Christian cabdrivers refusing to transport people committing a Christian sin, the numbers would be 86%-14%? And what, we think cabbies are our servants, just waiting to take us around no matter what their personal opinions are? They should do their job even if they believe it's wrong??

God, it's a sad day when I am one of the few people who understands religious freedom.

Will the revolution be televised? Discuss.

Hi friends. I just wanted to pop in real quick and tell you I found a song I like.

Back in high school, so, so long ago, I watched a video (in Voices of American Culture class) about the late 60s/early 70s that featured a song that fucking rocked. And I wanted to find it ever since. I would think of it sometimes and wonder, and I finally did something about it.

I actually used all three lame-ass search sites: Google, Wikipedia and YouTube. And here it is.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTCQSk2l8bc

http://www.gilscottheron.com/lyrevol.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Revolution_Will_Not_Be_Televised

"The Revolution Will Not Be Televised," by Gil Scott Heron. It is cool.

Enjoy.

Love,

Steve

MtB defeats TMV in nearly every way.

Artist: Minus the Bear

Album: Menos el Oso

Label: Suicide Squeeze Records

Okay. Minus the Bear. I first heard of them from a girl who worked at Stuart Hall housekeeping--the one who came to be known as Crackhead Molly. She gave me a few of their old songs--"Absinthe Party at the Fly Honey Warehouse" and "Monkey!!!!! Knife!!!!! Fight!!!!!" are the ones I remember best. And i thought they were cool, I guess.

Then Joe Weishampel gave me another of their songs ("Get Me Naked 2: Electric Bugaloo") and I got hooked.

So I bought Menos el Oso, a 2005 release with no songs I recognized.

AND IT ROCKS!

Minus the Bear is hard to describe beyond: they are a rock band. They have a slightly jam band quality, especially in thier Phish-like guitar tones, but their songs are really easy to handle. Every single song is really catchy. Sometimes I think they're a more indie version of Incubus, but about 20 times better. They have a similar sense of rhythm, though.

Each song is badass in its own way. The first, "The Game Needed Me," has a sort of guitar-based hip-hop rhythm through the verses. Guitar and bass drum thump through eighth notes to start and end the verses. The chorus shows off the quick changes of chords that Minus the Bear uses quite a bit.

Then there's "Memphis & 53rd," which has a nice verse that bumps along with the guitars dancing up and down the fretboard in the usual way. The drummer spices up the interludes nicely. And I just like the lines "I could barely sleep / I had this dream. / There was a man in a black car / With a man in the back seat." Somehow the repetition of "man" is funny to me. And you have to love when they bring the chorus back toward the end with more intensity.

My favorite might be #3, "Drilling." I'm not sure why. It might be the insistent eighth note muted strumming and snare drum. It's just funny that they can get away with it.

I could do the whole album, but the point is that every song is a winner. I would recommend it to anybody. Just try one of the songs--maybe "Hooray," "Pachuca Sunrise" (which has a chorus that reminds me of a Europop dance song) or the bouncy "The Fix." I'd say "Hooray" is best because I just love the chorus: "And I can feel my hands again / We're almost home." Simple, I know, but pretty awesome. The song with the best payoff is probably the last, "This Ain't a Surfin' Movie."

Just try it. I can't speak for their other albums, of which they appear to have three (and an EP with a song called "Drop It Like It's Hot," mysteriously). But Menos el Oso is definitely a winner.

Grade: A

Advantages: catchy, accessible rock; vocals you won't hate; complex songs that sound natural and fun.

Disadvantages: maybe just a little uncreative lyrically.

Okay that's all. Be back soon, I hope.

Love,

Steve

The Mars Volta: let us remember them as they were.

I bought my brother a CD for Christmas, but he already owns it. So I kept it. I'm writing a review of it now. I dedicate the review to Scott "Hoffy" Hoffmann, since I suspect nobody else will be interested.

Enjoy!






Artist: The Mars Volta

Album: Amputechture

Label: Universal Records







The Mars Volta. Oh, how the name used the thrill me. The possibilities! The complexities! They stood apart from everyone. They were untouchable. They were...a lot better than Amputechture.

This is their third album, following De-loused in the Comatorium and Frances the Mute. And, I am very sorry to report, I think it continues their downward slide.

As you know, TMV is the product of one half of At the Drive-In: singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala and guitarist Omar Rodriguez-Lopez. Omar writes the music, Cedric writes the vocals, and off they go. The group also features badass Jon Theodore on drums, Isaiah Ikey Owens on keyboard, someone awesome on bass, and (for some reason) John Frusciante of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. But basically it's Cedric and Omar's show.

As for the lyrics on this album: I don't know what they're about. It's a little sad, but the whole Cedric crazy lyrics thing is getting tired. All of it feels old and played-out already. Just the usual creepy techno-babble and body parts strewn around. Probably the worst example is "Day of the Baphomets," one of my favorite songs, because it just reuses words from the B-side "Plague Upon Your Hissing." Cedric receives a C for this album.

The music fares just a little better. Again, the slow, quiet verses and guitar-riff choruses: we've heard them before. When they take a new direction, it's often very bad. Take the first and last tracks, "Vicarious Atonement" and "El Ciervo Vulnerado": they try something different. They try staying quiet, slow and whispery all the way through.

Let me pause here to share Tony Storti's criticism of TMV: often the rocking moments are not worth it when compared to the non-rocking. All we want here is for you to rock. Do not stop and mutter. Do not stop and mellow. Do not stop. Do not give us songs like these. We do not want them.

This brings me to the good parts of the album: "Day of the Baphomets," parts of "Meccamputechture," "Viscera Eyes," a little bit of "Vermicide," and most of "Tetragrammaton." When TMV cuts loose and just rocks, man, it is really cool. I mean, "Day of the Baphomets" is essential 12 minutes of rocking out. It's great. For that reason, I'll give Omar a B on this album. When they want to, they can still bring the rocking. If only they'd make a whole album of it, straight through. Enough with the mellowing out.

So I guess overall the album gets a B-/C+. It's better than most stuff out there, but don't lose your copy of De-loused in the Comatorium.

Coming soon: a review of a superior album that I got for Christmas.

In other news: class has started. This semester looks so, so painfully easy. And I need to write about 1 1/2 monologues by tomorrow, or soon, for UD Monologues. We'll see how that goes.

Love,

Steve

New Guest film worth your "Consideration" (HAHAHA I'M AN A&E EDITOR)

Hahahaha Ryan is going to be in Advanced Fiction Writing with me. Oh, man.

I'm determined to post more often. I nearly reached Achewood-like proportions of dead time between posts. Speaking of which, read Roast Beef's blog. KraftWerk Thanksgiving. Brilliant.

Here are some other things going on:

I have an opinion article due tomorrow. Not sure what it'll be about. Something crazy, I think.
I asked some of my professors for recommendation letters. And I have to write personal statements. If there's one thing I hate (talking about), it's myself.
Joe's play is less than a week away.
Meeting for UD Monologues tomorrow night. I'm one of the directors.
One more wave of papers before the semester is over. Blah.
Aaaaand I'm really tired.

Let me give you a quick review of the new movie For Your Consideration. I saw it with my parents, Joe and Teresa over the Thanksgiving break up in Action, Ohio.

If you know the more recent Christopher Guest movies (Waiting for Guffman, A Mighty Wind and Best in Show), then you know the Guest style of filmmaking and sense of humor.

For Your Consideration, Guest's take on Hollywood period films and particularly the Oscars, is pretty well in line with those other movies. It chronicles the making of Home for Purim, about a Jewish family, and the Oscar buzz surrounding a few of the lead actors.

All the favorite actors are there: Catherine O'Hara is a middle-aged actress secretly dying for an Oscar; Harry Shearer is a vapid, smiley actor-turned-commercial-mascot-turned-actor; Eugene Levy is his pathetic, well-meaning agent; Christopher Guest is the airheaded director; John Michael Higgins (think Mentok the Mind-taker) is an overly confident publicist; Parker Posey is a young actress with a background in standup non-comedy (her one-woman show was No Penis Intended). But Jennifer Coolidge (Stifler's mom, that is) steals the show as the producer of the film. Coming off her role as a ditzy gold digger in Best in Show, Coolidge delivers the best single lines in the film ("It reminds me of my family. And I hate my family.").

While some of the familiar actors were relegated to smaller roles--particularly Michael Hitchcock and Don Lake as film reviewers and Bob Balaban and Michael McKean as the screenwriters--they were also very good. Balaban and McKean have their time to shine about halfway through the film, when marketing people and Guest as director start tampering with the script.

If you've seen all of the Guest movies, let me rank this one for you.

Waiting for Guffman - you really can't expect to beat this one. I like it a lot. It moves a little slowly, but it has the strongest, most ridiculous characters and songs.
For Your Consideration - nearly tied with
Best in Show - because they both have good characters but the jokes might be a little too subtle or smile-rather-than-laugh jokes.
A Mighty Wind - I just don't care for the Eugene Levy-Catherine O'Hara subplot too much. And last is
This Is Spinal Tap - although the problem might be that I haven't seen this in a long time.

Here's the bottom line: I think these movies are way, way funnier than anything Jack Black could turn out. And, judging from Elf and some other recent Will Farrell movies, I consider Guest's movies better because the plot is not painfully bad, nor is it used simply as a vehicle for jokes.

Grade: B+

Advantages: some hilarious jokes, great improvisation, good characters.

Disadvantages: no character quite reaches the Fred Willard, Catherine O'Hara, or Christopher Guest characters from Waiting for Guffman; doesn't use Willard, Balaban, McKean, or even Guest as much as I would like to see.

That's all for now. I promise to post again soon.

Love,

Steve

STORY TIME OKAY

Maaaaaaan I am so bad at this. Why can I not update more often?

I'd say it's because I'm busy, but I'm not sure that's right. Maybe I'm just not a good person?

Anyway, here's what's happening:

Vonnegut class is finished. It went well. As for writing the thesis: how the fuck will that work? What should it be about? These things are unknown.

All my other classes are okay. I have too many. Next semester is going to be great. I think. I've got a history class, Foreign Relations, which should be fascinating (depressing). Then there's a philosophy seminar, Civilization and Violence. Between the two of those, don't expect me to get any more optimistic about life. Also, Advanced Fiction Writing with Joe Pici. Only two students in that one, Holly Snyder and I. I will have the Hold Steady stuck in my head constantly when that class meets. You know why. Last, Spanish Conversation II. Add a one-hour Spanish service learning credit and a one-hour Berry Scholars capstone joke, and there you have it. Fourteen hours. The Promised Land.

Also I'll be tutoring, like now. And that's it.

BUT FIRST!

Joe Buemer's play is next week, the day before and the day after Christmas on Campus. I'm looking forward to it. I play an old Jew and a young Jew-convert-to-Christianity. It's going to be cool.

Then after that, there's Christmas break, which I will spend half in Ohio and half in Texas, meeting Teresa's Norwegian relatives. Hahahaha those people are from Norway.

Want to catch up on my Flyer News articles? Go to their web site and search my name. Recent articles include ones about police violence and Donald Rumsfeld. Woohoo.

And let me keep you entertained by starting something new. It's something I like to call "THIS IS A STORY I WROTE NOW WON'T YOU READ IT???" I will present stories from my ENG 284 class! It's like your'e there, except you don't know Neal Craft.

Here is the first one. It's short. Please remember this is fiction. Do not assume I am depressed because you read this story. Assume I am depressed because you assume everyone is depressed.

GOODBYE!

Love,

Steve


White Snow

She always arrived at six. James stood at the window, gazing beyond the corner store to the valley and the bridge. This was always his favorite view of the valley. After the first snow around Thanksgiving, leafless black branches crisscrossed the white valley like a Pollock painting. Snow coated the few rooftops below. The sun blazed, reflected brilliantly from the snow, brighter than sunlight.

Fifty-two minutes now. He paced, he tied and re-tied his shoes. He checked his hair in the mirror. His eye traveled along the streets, the snow-covered rooftops, the power lines silhouetted by snow. Later would come piles of snow, and ice, and slush from cars, but now his valley was clean and shining and beautiful.

Forty-four minutes. A bird perched on the window ledge.

Once they had seen seagulls on the beach. He knew seagulls soared and swooped but when he thought of them he remembered a day of strong, powerful wind, the ludicrous sight of two or three seagulls fighting valiantly, flapping and struggling and moving nowhere against the gusts. Isabel had laughed at the birds, but he wanted badly to grab them and carry them up the beach himself, wherever they were going.

Now six floors below a heavy woman with a hat hurried along the sidewalk. She passed under the streetlamp. Forty minutes, thirty-nine. He and Isabel had danced, not on these streets but others, him counting loudly to be heard over her giggles. One. Two. Three. Four-and. Their shadows had twisted, spinning, under the streetlamps. Isabel adored dancing. He was hesitant, uncertain.

Thirty-two minutes. The bird flew away, dropped, settled on a parked car. Thirty-two minutes, still.

Her books were always strewn across the back seat. Once he had tried to clean up for her, and she had scolded him. “Don’t mess with those,” she had told him, frowning. “I’ve got them in perfect order.” Thirty minutes. He had believed her for a few days. Then he shuffled them around once while he waited in the car. Nothing happened. Later he admitted he had tested her, and she screamed with laughter. As always, her happiness was childlike.

Twenty-three minutes. She always arrived at six. She always walked in with her bag, and her coat, and her umbrella, and her car keys jangling in the bowl by the door. She had been late sometimes before and then once she never came but now it was always at six. He knew she would arrive at six. Seventeen minutes. If you wait long enough, James thought. If you wait long enough and you flap furiously. She always she always always always came in at six with jangling keys and a smile like the sun. Her smile shone bright, blazing. It was the sun reflected by fresh snow.

But it got dimmer. Every light gets dimmer but not sunlight but her light dimmed and a cancer was inside of her and it grew and grew. Now her light was gone. The streetlamp below flickered on and it was the brightest light in his view.

James looked out the window at the valley and the clock ticked and ticked in the empty room.