Thom Yorke Zumba and Flea Thrashercize

Let's just get this out of the way now. The Atoms for Peace show last night at the Patriot Center was awesome. And, while I appreciated the room to move and breathe, it's a bit of a travesty that there were so many empty seats.

It's the mark of a good show that my internal dialogue of earlier in the evening (too tired, too old for a weeknight show) evaporated as soon as they hit the stage. I was on my feet and dancing my ass off, afraid to sit down lest Yorke or Flea catch my eye. These guys are 40+ years old and leaving it all on the floor. It's my job as a concert goer to give it back, to feed the beast, and I was not about to let them down.

Yorke's moves are all over the map, each one weird, inspiring and so very, very perfect. He's the nerd's dancing hero. As I looked out across the stadium, I saw them (us) channeling his energy, dancing with a reckless freedom and confidence (maybe less with the confidence on my part). Thom Yorke is life affirming.

Flea radiated energy. He dominated the stage, his bass and the skirt he wore. This man is 50, and he.did.not.stop.

The music, itself, was other worldly. Layers and sounds and beats...I can't write about music without sounding like a tool. It got me moving, got me thinking and made me happy...all of my favorite things.

I'm writing this at 1AM on my phone while trying to go to sleep. If it doesn't make sense, let's blame it on that.

Remixing and reinventing

Now that we've been hitting the gym hard once again [have I not mentioned the 3-month slow down and 3-week sabbatical I took?] I find myself searching for ways to step it up. Don't get me wrong, I love all the reading I get done on the treadmill, but I can only go so fast while reading. Really, I blame this minor burst of motivation on a combination of the U.S. swimming trials playing on the gym TVs and a podcast episode on running mixes that I happened to catch yesterday.

The sad fact is that only 15% of the gym's music gets you hyped (and that's if you can even hear it). Enter my new workout playlist! No more will I rely on stale Lifetime videos and the rhythmic beat of people who actually manage to run in order to entertain myself.

1. Church by T-Pain
2. Wrestlers (sticky, dirty) by Hot Chip
3. Candy Shop by 50 Cent
4. Odyssey by Woolfy
5. Bounce by Timbaland Ft. Dr. Dre, Justin Timberlake and Missy Elliott
6. Drop It Like It's Hot by Snoop
7. The Garden by Mirah
8. Golddigger by Kanye West/Jamie Foxx
9. Tightrope by Janelle Monae
10. Dog Days are Over by Florence and the Machines

Do you know what I discovered? The damn playlist worked. It provided a near perfect narrative arc and (varied) tempo for the treadmill. T-Pain and the scenes from Step Up 2 running through my head immediately got me high. By the time I got to Bounce, I was disgustingly sweaty [which is the point, right?] and, indeed, bouncing. Have you ever listened to the lyrics to Bounce? I guess I hadn't. I've always been more of a beat girl myself and was a little surprised. Luckily, Missy enters near the end, schooling the boys with her filthy mouth and giving me a little boost.

Ending with Florence singing Dog Days was nothing short of inspired. I was winding down my time on that bloody machine, and I just wanted to clap and shout it out just like her. The dog days really were just about over. In fact, I really want someone to invent treadmill dancing classes (Ok Go was on to something). I wanted to bust some moves during my walk, and if I wasn't certain I would fall, I totally would have drop-drop-dropped it like it's hot with Snoop.

Karaoke treadmill dancing?! Brilliant!

September Photo Challenge Day 29: purchased

Check out my ukulele. Isn't she lovely? One day I'll make happy music and foist it on you all. For now, I practice Mary Had a Little Lamb and a few cords on my couch. I'm determined that I'm going to disprove that whole "can't teach an old dog new tricks" cliche.

September Photo Challenge Day 11: something fun

Ferries are fun, right? I think it is incredibly cool we still have ferry service on the Potomac. Sure, a bridge would be more convenient, but there is something pleasant about having to slow down and wait in line with other adventurous souls.

In my travels this morning, I was listening to the latest NPR Tiny Desk Concert* featuring Foster the People. I'm familiar with Pumped Up Kicks from all the radio play it gets but was surprised at how accessible their music was, particularly when enjoyed acoustically. Really, though, I was moved to bring them up simply because their band name resonated with me today. Foster the people. Today (and all days), this is a directive we should all strive for in interacting with each other. Let's build them up, not tear them down.

*I've been having a real love fest with NPR lately. You should download the NPR music app, if you haven't already. It gives you access to their song of the day, album previews, tiny desk concerts and so much more right on your phone.

Track #6

I'm sitting at my desk staring dreamily at the screen, a little bit in love after last night. I can only focus on the what ifs and not the daily tasks at hand. Last night the fates aligned, and I was in the right place at the right time. The place: Iota. Who: Arab Strap. When Scarlet presented me with the opportunity for an evening with Scotsmen, who was I to decline? The evening was an evening of sensations and minor euphoria. Having arrived their early (really early) to secure our place inside this cozy venue, we settled in and began nursing a drink in anticipation. The next thing I knew the BAND (totally spazzing here) was at the bar, and we were hanging with the band before the show!! Earlier Scarlet and I had wondered aloud whether we'd be willing to be that girl with the band. However, after seeing Malcolm and Aidan, my 'huhs' starting turning into 'hmmmms'. Anyway, sound check started and chatting turned to ogling as I managed to catch Malcolm's eye a couple of times and send him derisive look for derisive look.

As the lights went down and crowds pressed in, our intimate moment with the band and Iota was replaced with the opening act, A Whisper in the Noise. They really weren't bad, but by that point, I only had eyes for one band. Scarlet, I am quite sure, was about ready to jump out of her skin seeing as she came already in love, and my smitten affair had only just begun. As Arab Strap went on, we were crafty enough to position ourselves against the stage, practically worshipping their feet.

The next two hours are really so hard to put words to. I felt like I was being seduced by the ongues and fingers of men who never touched me. Mesmerized, I watched Malcolm on the Fender, caught up in the movement of his fingers and the notes they were creating. Every now and again I'd glance up at the face that refused to smile but would occasionally sneer and felt myself slip further down the rabbit hole. I found myself wanting to play a game of find the tattoo with him. I was also directly at the feet of Aidan and kept glancing up as he sang, hoping he would meet my eye. Instead, he sang with his eyes closed, and I was content to let that deep brogue seep down into my soul. Really, I was so into it that I didn't let the indie head bop or the annoying clan* to my right even bother me. At some point in the evening I sent Scarlet a text message. It read: "Affirmed. I would definitely be that girl."

As the band was packing up, we knew we needed to stick around. You can't just leave after a performance like that. Aidan was snagged by one of the annoying clan as he made his way to the back, but Malcolm was alone on stage storing his guitar. A few conspiratorial whispers later, and we decided to go for it. We decided against pictures for fear of being thought cheesy but determined we couldn't leave without a few final words to this man whose music would be on my computer and whose face would permeate my dreams over the next few weeks. False confidence led me to the stage as we told him how much we enjoyed the show. Not one to leave italone, I couldn't resist asking him (with a smile) what was so fucking depressing about playing guitar up there. We were rewarded with a smile and some hard-to-understand words about how he didn't like playing live, didn't like touring in America and wasn't much of a smiler. He said he tried to smile while playing, but it just didn't work. *Sigh* Soulmate anyone?

Anyway, we said farewell and took off. I left feeling like a grade school girl about to poster her room with their photos and also knowing I had more time to be that girl.


*Read Scarlet's post for more of everything!

Nobody knows you like they do

Sometimes we wander through life wandering if the people around us really know us, and most of the time I come to the conclusion that they don't. It's actually kind of depressing to think that who I really am, who hides deep inside and matters most to me, is seen by nobody but me. I think one of the most sought after things in life is to be known. This is usually when I take comfort in Psalm 139, "O Lord, you have searched me and you know me...". At least someone knows me inside and out and still claims me. Every now and then we do meet a few souls who are willing to go there with you. People who take the time to listen and to begin to know you. I don't hold myself up as this bastion of mystery or anything, but I do think it takes some tenacity to know the different sides of me. Living in a city like DC, I always get the feeling that most people simply tolerate you or are using you for some other purpose. You talk and they don't really listen. They're already planning what they'll respond with. As I was walking to work this morning I realized that there are a finite number of people who care to really know me...or at least try to.

In fact, sometimes it's the little things that let you know people are paying attention. I'm bopping along this morning and wind up on the subject of mix cds. I started thinking of how we each need our own life mix cd. I paused, literally stopping on the sidewalk, as I realized that someone had already taken the time and effort to create one for me. Every word of every song may not apply to me or be about me, but the essence of the music, the song titles, the artists, and yes, the words, speak to the fact that the person who made this cd has taken the time to actually know me. It's the Christmas gift that keeps on giving because I can pull it out and listen to it whenever (like now) I want. It's good to know you're just a little known.

The cd...

We Only Come Out at Night, Smashing Pumpkins
Up All Night, Razorlight
Tonight Let's Dance, Elefant
This Place is a Prison, The Postal Service
The Saloon Song, Prom
Southern Girl, Incubus
Something to Look Forward To, Spoon
Our Weekend Starts on Wednesday, Hey Mercedes
Nightswimming, R.E.M.
Hope You're Happy Now, The Sounds
Hitchin' A Ride, Green Day
Go to Sleep (Little Man Being Erased), Radiohead
Four in the Morning, Ivy
Exhausted, Foo Fighters
Dancecraze, Millencolin
Caught by the River, Doves
Around the World, Red Hot Chili Peppers
All Over the World, Pixies
Across the Night, Silverchair

Peeling myself off the carpet

Deliver me from my weekend. Don't get me wrong...I had a smashing time. However, three solid days of burning the candle at both ends has me fried. I should have sensed this coming in some way after the train wreck my work afternoon became. I would like to blame stress for the fact that I somehow wound up drinking until 5 am at Ravena's birthday party. Stress also caused me to tell Tice how warm he was, continually tell Brendan his guitar playing was hot, and decide it was a good idea to roll down the grassy slope in Allie's yard, cackling like a banshee. I decided to stockpile stress for next weekend by getting up (was I ever really down?) at 7:30 am to drag my still-tipsy behind to my part-time job at the bookstore.

Never one to back down from a challenge, I spent six hours sobering up at the Barn (work). Then, feeling that I hadn't truly been punished enough, I thought a good way to spend my evening (Saturday) was to have dinner with friends and see a local (3-hour) production of the Sound of Music. They did a fine job, but I still fell asleep no less than 3 time throughout the course of the night.

I finally drug my rear home around midnight, only to get up a few short hours later to pull a Sunday shift at the Barn. I know you're sighing with relief at the fact that at least I got home early on Sunday evening to rest up for the work week. Oh but if it were true. I had tickets to the New Pornographers and Belle & Sebastian last night, so instead of seeking the comfort of my bed and Oscars I traipsed to DC. The concert was worth the lack of sleep. Just don't expect more than this feeble weekend recap so early on a Monday morning. I'm still trying to figure out when I'm supposed to rest.

Love the mix

Don't get any ideas from the title...it's just a crush. It's a crush that's slowly reducing my ability to think like a normal human being and managing to turn me into a mute fool when he's near. I reached a turning point last night, however, and decided to stop blathering on about it. This is like my almost last hurrah in blogging about him making me loopy, inspired entirely the songs that found their way onto my MailTunes* cd. I truly believe the right songs find us at the right times in our life, narrating our thoughts and emotions.

Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge - My version of the perfect crush song. It's like an obsessiveness that builds into like and wanting someone in every way you can want them. Wanting to be devoured by someone.

Hate by Cat Power - Illustrates that vulnerability I just can't shake...where you're not even good enough for you.

This Modern Love by Bloc Party - Sublime. I'm still working on all the ways I feel this song, but the last couple of lines (where he asks if she wants to hang) nags at the dusty corners of my brain.

*A fab club of fab girls exchanging music to a theme.

Something of my own

Closing by yourself in the music department (me:last night:Barn) tends to allow time for introspection or at least a more random thought life. As I was flipping through the cds, thinking of ones I wanted to buy, I began thinking back to the music that has been in my life. Almost every group I have listened to for the past 15-17 years has been at the influence of someone in my life. I listened to Garth Brooks in high school because David loved Garth and I liked David. In my early 20s I listened to a lot of jazz and broadway because that's what Michael listened to. My gospel and R&B taste came from the current roommate. Even now, the indie-punk-whatever bands are at the influence of Scarlet and Allie. While I like all of this music (past and present), even love some of it, I started questioning whether or not I truly had taste or an opinion of my own. I got to thinking about the movie, Runaway Bride, with Julia Roberts. In it, Richard Gere calls attention to the fact that Julia doesn't even know how she likes her eggs cooked. For most of her adult life she has eaten her eggs the way her current man had been eating his. I felt like that was me with music. In my adult/young adult life, had I ever come to a band on my own?

It didn't take me long to realize that I had come about one of my favorite bands on my own. Smashing Pumpkins is all mine. I found them and loved them all on my own without anyone I knew even knowing who they were. I actually remember (seriously) shopping in Hastings Books & Music for a cd for my brother when I spied a cd by some group called the Smashing Pumpkins. Siamese Dream was the first of their cds I purchased that day. I had never heard of it nor them (San Angelo, TX...not well known for its music scene) but made the purchase like I do many of the things that I buy. They had an interesting name and an attention-grabbing cover, so it was mine. I considered giving it to my brother, but after that first listen, I knew I'd have to go out shopping again. I didn't stop at Siamese Dream and have owned many of their cds over the years. They were even my first rock concert. I watched Billy Corgan get pissed at a lame Texas crowd that kept throwing trash on the stage, lecturing the crowd and ending the show early. The point of this is that by the end of the night I felt ok about this. I do know how I like my eggs cooked, and I'll always have the Pumpkins.

Head bangers lite

9:30 Club, take two. I was back last night for my second concert of October, Death Cab for Cutie. All said and done, it was a good show. Unlike the Decembrists, you get the impression you don't have to attend a Death Cab concert to experience the true beauty of their music. It is nice, however, to able to experience the geeky beauty of the band a mere feet away. I developed a small crush on the bass player who pounds his bass like a pimp does his whore.

I always get more out of these concerts than just the music. I'm a big crowd watcher and like to develop theories based on my observations. These past two 9:30 Club concerts have not disappointed on material. Looking out over the crowd (I was on the balcony), it was a sea of head bopping. It was so across the board that I felt like I was at some weird cult gathering. I determined that head bopping is to indie what head banging was to metal. The other observation I've been kneading around in my head is about "indie" guys. The problem is that it becomes increasingly difficult to tell whether or not they are straight. I'm sure some of you are asking why this matters, but as a single girl, I don't have time to waste being attracted to a boy who likes men. The geeky/retro/scruffy/laidback thing is hot, but things do seem a bit more ambiguous with indie guys. Another thing that makes it all the more confusing (and I'm seriously channeling my inner Texan here without meaning to) is that they all bop their heads and sing along to the music just like the girls! I don't know...I know I'm stereotyping here, but I see groups like DCFC as a group girls like, and if guys like them, they wouldn't actually show it. These guys bopping and singing like girls confused me. It's not that I'm saying I want only manly, old school men, but sometimes I want a manly, old school man...who is sensitive but doesn't bop.

Sunday night I went to the 9:30 Club for the first time and had a
thoroughly enjoyable experience. Ha! I'd like to be able to say I
'rocked out', but I don't really feel like I can apply that term to the
Decembrists (too mellow for rock out). What I did find is that I like
their quirky style and definitely enjoy them better live than via cd. I
developed a small crush on the lead singer and discovered the
accordian player/pianist is really Terra.

I also got kind of attached to the opening act, Sons and Daughters. My
almost immediate attachment reaffirmed my love for rock (or at least
groups that meet my definition of rock).

Anyway, I had a swell time and wanted to chronicle the moment. No
budding rock journalist here. Once I'm on a real computer, I'll post
some pictures.
--radicalflower