So, I’ve had a billion things to post about over the last couple of days — I went to California for the first time last week (Mo, Tu, Wed) and experienced Hollywood proper. At the same time I was reading On the Road which is just the proper book when bouncing from coast-to-coast. Many thoughts which may become a singular entry at some point in the near future.

Second, I’ve been listening to Sleater-Kinney’s latest album The Woods OVER AND OVER. I’ve been a fan of them for many years, but not a huge fan. This album may very well upgrade my fan status. In the past I’ve found some of their music a bit too staccato or downright shrill for repeated listenings, but on The Woods they have really honed their rock skills to produce songs with awesome hooks and a lot of dynamic power. Get it now!

Finally, I highly recommend you Louisville-lovers out there to patronize the brand-new WHY Louisville (What-Have-You Louisville) store in the Highlands. Created by the same gents who brought you LebowskiFest, it is sub-titled as a “Fan Club for the City”. At the moment, they peddle a number of Louisville-related t-shirts and knick-knackery as well as the Lebowski-related materials. Personally, I picked up a “Louisville – It’s Not Kentucky!” t-shirt and a pair of fleur-de-lis vinyl stickers. Jason “Fluffy” Clark from krack.org tells me they’ll be expanding their inventory soon — they were rushing to open for the LebowskiFest 2005 ticket sales.

A few interesting links for you candy-cane children out there:
Jack White Weds Model Karen Elson, and White Stripes: Get Behind Me Satan album review. (Both from Pitchfork Media, clearly the only news I ever read). Finally, a good interview with Jack White from the LA Times.

Yeah, what the deuce? Album is released, Jack White gets married (with Meg as a bridesmaid) and www.WhiteStripes.com says it’s the first marriage for both newlyweds. I love Jack’s oddly-crafted public persona as much as the next guy, but this coupled with Get Behind Me, Satan‘s “departure” from the Stripes’ norm, I can’t help but feel that this all lies on the edge of a precipice.

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I’ve been listening to an advance version of Get Behind Me, Satan for a couple weeks now, and while there are some great songs on it, this album falls far from their prior Elephant. Whereas Elephant managed to hit both qualifiers for seminality — expanding musically and not leaving the fanbase behind, Get Behind Me, Satan might have not hit the latter on many of the tracks. Granted, had they had made something better than Elephant, my mind would have caved in and my chest would have exploded, leaving me a weeping, broken man for the beauty of it. However, Satan left me wondering if Jack has spread himself too thin with his other engagements and left this album rushed. Not to completely heap beratement on the album, though! Many tracks on the album do rank as some of my favorites — lead-off track “Blue Orchid”, “Little Ghost”, “Doorbell”, “The Denial Twist” and “Red Rain” all showcase Jack’s dangerously beautiful songwriting skills. The album itself — including the album art and video for “Blue Orchid” also show a growth of the White Stripes — at least in a character sense. The Spanish/Victorian/goth influences as well as the increasing introduction of the color black (beginning with White Blood Cells) into the whole Stripes “scheme” seem to indicate progressive change of some sort — and I’m very interested in seeing where they’re headed, both musically and aesthetically.

So then what is to become of our beloved Jack and Meg? Who am I to question someone’s marriage, but giving Jack’s anti-publicity/pro-image-crafting penchant one is left to wonder what all is going on in his head. Speculation has whirled since Elephant that there might be one or two albums left until the peppermint drumkit is put into storage for good. On all things art-borne, I am of the school-of-thought that dynamic art (a category which I think the White Stripes certainly fall into) should come to an end at some point before it can begin the mouldering process in the public view. Few music acts can continue in their same form and keep it up –a nd those acts don’t have to keep up the bizarrely concocted public personas. Even KISS took off their makeup… and then promptly started sucking.

Kelly and I (along with Jackson and Medina) went to Headliners Music Hall last night to have a rockin’ good time with The Black Keys. Opening guest, The Hentchmen.

The Hentchmen, with someone who appears to be a young Andy Dick on guitar, threw down the sort of greaseball rat-fink rock jams you might expect out of the Dead Kennedys, had they been formed a decade or two earlier. Good stuff, and the crowd seemed to enjoy (as did I).

The Black Keys, however, despite being on two guys (Dan on the guitar and Patrick on the drums) seem to control the room like no others. Patrick positions his drums on the left, mere inches from the front of the stage, with Dan on the right. Patrick Carney possesses a fury and determination for the drums that is at both infectious and scary. He is a lanky 6-foot-something, and his drum kit seems dwarfed by his long frame. When he sits at the kit, it appears that he’s attempting to ride a tricycle that is far to small. When he plays, it’s as if he’s on that tricycle, but being attacked by bees. Keep in mind, he’s like inches from the edge of the stage — arms a-blur with the speed of a flip-book animation, but with power of a man swinging sledge and busting rocks. I feared for the safety of those in the front row. “Would they be rocked to death?!” I wondered. As a visual contrast, Dan Auerbach is a short man (in relation to Carney’s height), but possesses a presence, voice and talent beyond his years (not to mention vicious guitar face). Between the two of them, they convey this infectious power of rhythm. The best parts of blues and soul with the on-the-brink excitement that only the rawk can provide. It’s dangerously exciting stuff when you are right close to it, and a venue the size of Headliners fits that bill right nice.

I was truly rocked by their performance last night, and judging by other shows I have seen, this one was different. Wimmens was swaying their hips and dancing with theys men, you see. The crowd was genuinely into it (as was I), to the point where they were called back for two encores. Akron, Ohio represent!

For you, gentle reader, I bring recommendations of rock…

• …And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, Worlds Apart

  They got my unpublished “Best Name in Rock” award back in 2004, and yeah, so I gave their prior album “Source Tags & Codes” about 2 minutes of attention back in 2003(?), and never listened to it again. Looks like I’m making another of my apologies to rock bands again… Worlds Apart rules in so many varied ways. They’ve got a sorta nerdy thing going on, but they bring the rock right along with it. Archaeology + sociology + rockology = AYWKUBTTOD?

• Death From Above 1979, You’re A Woman, I’m a Machine

  DFA 1979 is two Canadian guys with a synthesizer and a bass guitar. Now, normally, that is usually just spelled out D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R, but not this time, oh no! I think I described it to Najati as “dance-inspired noise rawk”, and I think that just about sums it up. Like 75% noise rawk, 25% ass-shakery. It’s all good.

• Sleater-Kinney, The Woods (Advance Copy)

  Yeah, so I got a copy of this via a lil’ birdie. The girls of Sleater-Kinney have asked very nicely for those folks who are currently dealing it over the intarweb to kindly cut it out. However, since my deed has already been done, and I have listened to it in its entirety — I’ll say this: It rules. In their letter to the pirates, they mentioned that the record “is a response to the deadening and watering down of music”, and I can’t agree more. It’s noisy, loud and far more thrashing as any of their previous records. We likes it very much.

• Sunday Nights – The Songs of Junior Kimbrough

  Junior Kimbrough is credited by Dan Auerbach of the Blakc Keys as “his first record purchase”, and he has created a number of contemporary blues classics that inspired many, from Iggy Pop (who appears on the album with The Stooges) to the White Stripes (not to mention the Black Keys). This various-artists tribute lines up like a hipster funeral wake for Kimbrough. Cat Power, Iggy Pop & The Stooges, Mark Lanegan, Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, etc. Some really fantastic tracks on here, especially from The Stooges, Cat Power and The Black Keys.

Man, so much good music this year! All this good music coupled with IndieTorrents have led to a banner year of me listening to good music. With all the hype and stuff about BitTorrent and the busts that have occurred as of late, I’ll tell you that A) IndieTorrents deals only with non-RIAA artists, and B) I spend a good deal of money on artists that I like. IndieTorrents has spurred me to buy many more CDs from artists that I would never have heard of. So, stick that in your lawsuit-happy pipe and smoke it, RIAA.

In other news, Pitchfork seems to have really taken off this year. Complete with industry scandal (their balance sheet was apparently leaked to the public), wide-acclaim and their own determined band of detractors. The good news is that people are talking about them, and they remain one of the few bastions of real, no-kid-glove-wearing music journalism. Yeah, sure, they can be real dicks and give an album I really liked a 2.0 out of 10, but that sort of opinionated music review gets me thinking about why I like the music so much. To quote Jack Nicholson’s Joker: “This town needs an enema!“, and Pitchfork has provided as much.

So, without further ado, my top 10-ish albums that I heard for the first time this year (in no particular order):

• Neutral Milk Hotel – In an Aeroplane Over The Sea

  

  From an earlier post: The circuitous route by which Neutral Milk Hotel caught my ear is really only a small facet of the strange story of Jeff Mangum’s short career with his Neutral Milk Hotel band. In an Aeroplane… was released in 1998 to critical acclaim and then he essentially fell off the face of the earth. Much like the sudden rise subsequent disappearance of the band, both albums (this one and the first “On Avery Island”) are noisy, powerful and ultimately deep and terribly sad. There is part of me that wants to hear more and part of me that revels in the hope that music like that is never made again.

• Interpol – Antics

  
  

  I’ve made a couple posts about Interpol in the past, mostly in regards to their breakout “Turn on the Bright Lights” album from 2002. After a long wait in 2003 (and through most of 2004), they released “Antics”. With “Turn on…”, the album grew on me with each listen, eventually becoming one of my favorite albums of 2003 and it still reminds me of the cold, dark winter of 2002/2003. “Antics” hit me in a similar way, but different and better. Interpol doesn’t shy away from their tight, rythmic ways on “Antics”, but do make many growing steps on this album. Whereas once I thought “Turn on…” would be my favorite Interpol album, “Antics” has supplanted it. “Slow Hands” the obvious favorite on the album shines (as much as these black-clad dudes can), and Carlos D.’s bass playing makes me want to shake my ass while Paul Bank’s dark vocals make me want to don black-on-black suits and sit in the corner. It’s like hipster goth music, and I love it.

• Bonnie “Prince” Billy – Master and Everyone / I See A Darkness

  
  

  My fandom of Will Oldham (Bonnie “Prince” Billy’s alter-ego) started when I first heard Palace Music’s “Viva Lost Blues” some two years ago. The ragged vocals and broken-down guitar paired with superb lyrics hit a chord with me somehow, and I never stopped listening. Bonnie Mr. Oldham has never been shy about releasing material, and he has a raft of it under various names. So, when I kept hearing about this Bonnie “Prince” Billy album called “Master and Everyone” I had to check it out. The ragged vocals of the Palace Music days were gone, and replaced with smooth (by Oldham standards) vocals and gracious harmonies. Lyrically, he’s as tight (maybe tighter) than ever. “The Way” gets me every time. Also recommended: I See A Darkness, also by the Bonnie “Prince”, and perhaps an even better album that “Master”.

• Loretta Lynn – Van Lear Rose

  

  If you would have told me January 1, 2004 that I would have selected a Loretta Lynn album in my “Best Music I Heard This Year” list, I would have dismissed you like a fifth grade class on the last day of classes. But leave it to Mr. Jack White of the White Stripes to pull together a young band to back Mrs. Lynn and crank out this awesome record. However, you can’t give Jack all the credit here — Loretta Lynn has never been afraid of controversy or “pushing the envelope,” and suffice it to say that she might be a little cracked in the head. Sometimes the best of them are, and she certainly doesn’t disappoint or go too far out of her boundaries. She still sings songs about Butcher Holler, her mommy and hating on hussies, but with Jack’s raw production and a shitkicking band behind her she sounds way ahead of the country curve. Take a lesson, Nashville.

• DJ Danger Mouse – The Grey Album

  

  I’ve never, ever listened to a bit of Jay-Z. I’ll freely admit that. I have, however, like the good little white suburban kid that I am/was say that I listened to the Beatles’ White Album quite a bit. At first, I didn’t understand what all the hype was about DJ Danger Mouse’s mixing of the two albums. I had easily dismissed Jay-Z as just another rapper, and thought that this might just be some half-assed attempt at party mixing. Oh, how wrong I was. After a couple of listens, I came to the realization that this rocked, and HARD. Jay-Z’s tight lyrical stylings with the often beat-heavy semi-psychedelia of the White Album mingled nicely and brought new light to both albums. Some folks said it was just fluff, and some said it was the coming of some sort of new style. As per the usual, I can’t fall into either camp there — this isn’t bad enough to consider just fluff, but it’s no White Album by itself. It is, however, a fantastic album that should draw fans of both genres together. It’s just so damned fun and invigorating. Few albums I can turn to regardless of mood or time of day.

• Devendra Banhart – Rejoicing in the Hands

  

  How to explain Devendra Banhart… I don’t know if it can be done through words alone. He’s got sort of that Eddie-Vedder-in-his-later-years thing going on with a touch of Will-Oldham-country-dirt but with a light and supple touch of Sufjan Stevens on the guitar. I could attempt to put together any number of hipster name-drops to make a reasonable sculpture of Banhart, but the proof is in the listening. He’s nearly 4 years younger than I, but writes and plays like a man twice his age.

• TV on the Radio – Desperate Youth, Bloodthirsty Babes

  

  TV on the Radio blends electronica, tape loops and even a smattering of a capella to make sonorous, infectious rap-inspired rock. Rock might not be the right word here — perhaps jams is the better word. They hit the scene this year with their debut, and if the new single “New Health Rock” is any indication, there are good things coming from TV on the Radio.

• The Black Keys – Rubber Factory

  

  Ah, The Black Keys. I’ve made a couple posts about these boys from Akron, Ohio. They released “Rubber Factory” this year, after opening up in 2002 with “The Big Come Up”, which indeed was a big come-up for them. I saw them in 2003 opening for Sleater-Kinney promoting their “Thickfreakness” album, which I thought was a lackluster sophomore effort. “Rubber Factory”, however, proved me completely wrong by rocking their asses off. These two guys are students of the real folk blues — having studied by playing with some of the best real blues performers. They even passed up a number of offers to defect from their current label, Fat Possum, to larger, likely more lucrative deals. I’ll agree that Stevie Ray Vaughan might have brought the blues back to the forefront in the 80′s, but people like the The Black Keys keep them alive.

• Franz Ferdinand – Franz Ferdinand

  

  I first heard Franz Ferdinand on WOXY some months back with their first quirky single, “Darts of Pleasure”. Later on, it was “Take Me Out”, then “Matinee”, and then “Michael”. While listening to these singles months-apart, I hadn’t quite acquired my taste for Franz Ferdinand. I had had other favorites over the span of my relationship with Franz, but by the time “Matinee” (one of the strongest tracks on an album of strong tracks) rolled around, I realized “Hey — wait a minute. Each of these songs has been equally awesome! Maybe the whole album is like this!” Purchased at ear X-tacy sometime during the fall, it was true. Franz Ferdinand, this band which I had a mere monthly fancy with had come home to roost at last. They throw down the new-wave tinged hook-laden rock like no other Scots I know. Expect good things.

• Sufjan Stevens – Greetings from Michigan / Seven Swans

  
  

  By all accounts, Sufjan Stevens should have been on this list last year, if I had listened to Jackson last year about Greetings From Michigan. Sufjan Stevens is a unique and productive talent in the US indie scene — a gifted musician and songwriter who changes his style up a bit on each of his albums. Greetings from Michigan is his epic love-song to the state of Michigan, and Seven Swans is a decidedly different record with a definite spiritual core. It’s hard to say which I like more, I guess it depends on my mood. Greetings has “Detroit, Lift Up Your Weary Head! (Rebuild! Restore! Reconsider!)”, a callout to the crumbling crown city of Michigan, which is both interesting in subject and in song. Seven Swans has “The Dress Looks Nice on You”, which reminds me of Kelly so much — not only because of the lyrics, but because of the Casio-style breakdown later in the song. Both albums I first listened to this year, so they get my double-vote. Further: Sufjan’s annual Christmas albums are fantastic turns on holiday standards.

File Under: How Did I Miss These?

• Mos Def – Black on Both Sides
• Elvis Costello – My Aim Is True
• Kentucky Moutain Music Collection (7 disc set)

File Under: It was good, but c’mon people

• The Arcade Fire – Funeral

  Pitchfork appears to be to blame for the explosion of this album. It gets a 9.7 rating and everyone is hopping up and down excited like the Pixies got back together (they did, and people did hop up and down). I’ve got this album, I’ve listened to it, and I do like it quite a bit, but not to the point that every indie hipster has put it on the top of their list! I refuse to slag the album, because it’s certainly not slag-worthy, but what the hell people.

File Under: Bemused Adoration

• Brian Wilson – SMiLE

  Pet Sounds is easily in my top ten of all time. SMiLE is Brian Wilson’s long, long, long awaited release of the long, long, long awaited and long-shelved Beach Boys album. I listened to it, and it is a masterful work, but not something that I felt deserved the heaps and heaps of rave reviews heaped upon it. I love the guy just as much as the next Beach Boys fan, but he didn’t shit gold folks. The album is playful, introspective, truly independent and a really interesting listen, though. It’s worth finding out.

File Under: Haters Ball

• The Darkness – Permission to Land

  This album is so ridiculous, it is awesome. If David Bowie had grown up in the eighties, you know this is what Ziggy Stardust would have ended up like. It’s over-the-top, profanity-laced (get your hands offa my woman, mother-chicken!), and pulls out 80s heavy-metal tricks like so many rabbits from so many hats. It’s my filthy music indulgence of the year, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. So why all the hate, haters? Can you not handle it? Is the rock too much? It is awesome and deep down inside, you know it.

In Summation…

So, what did I learn this year? Well, you can mix up catchy bass-heavy new-wavy riffage with emo-style navel-gazing lyrics and turn out a great record (Interpol, and to a lesser extent Franz Ferdinand). Also, there is nothing wrong with indie-rock singer-songwriters with a little old-timey flair (Bonnie “Prince” Billy, Sufjan Stevens, Devendra Banhart). There is a lot of rap that I haven’t listened to, but should (Jay-Z, De La Soul, Mos Def, etc.), and some that might be in decline if you believe what you read (Beastie Boys). There are many things I learned this year in music, but as per the usual, I learned that a little music leg-work is well worth it in the end.

After 2003′s nearly-non-stop White Stripes love-fest, I felt this year turned it down a notch in regards to my listening habits. Maybe it’s been happening for the last couple of years, but maybe it’s just a sign of the times. My younger musical haunts of Nirvana and Rage Against the Machine have given way to softer, perhaps more sophisticated things such Sufjan Stevens and Will Oldham. This year brought more old-timey music to my ears, and made me reconsider my stance on religiously-inspired music. There is still a lot of shitty religious music, but some of it — the more naked the better — is real gold. Is it me? Is it the world? I’ve still got a taste for the rock, no doubt (Neutral Milk Hotel, Sonic Youth), but things that used to suit me don’t suit as well any more. My tastes continue to change, and I look forward to more music in the new-year.

By the way, my previous “music years in review”, can be found here (sorta), here and here.

I suggest you do all you can to beg/borrow/steal Devendra Banhart‘s Rejoicing in the Hands.

Imagine if you will the sweet roughness of Will Oldham with the old touch of Marlene Dietrich. Yeah. Think about that. Sparse arrangements, often just Devendra and guitar accent his odd and often beautiful and melancholy lyrics. There is a waver in his voice that evoke the best of the old blues singers, but his phrasing is straight out of a 1940s cabaret or a smoke-filled movie.

It should be noted that his music belies his twenty-something years on this planet. Enjoy.

I was tipped off to
Retro Crush’s 50 Coolest Song Parts by the venerable Memepool yesterday. It’s a pretty good listing of the cooling “parts of songs” ever. I’m all for listing stuff, but certainly not taking them as gospel. My stance on this is ever-so-bluntly pointed out by Retro Crush listing a Phil Collin’s song as the “#1 Coolest Song Part” ever. EVER. I couldn’t hardly agree more with Mr. Jackson Cooper‘s assessment: “Bullshit, I say.”

The end result might very well have been “bullshit”, but the whole notion of “cool song parts” is still wickedly valid. I think about cool song parts all the time. The #2 song on that list — “Won’t Get Fooled Again” by The Who — was a prime example that was the first song I associated with “cool song parts” when I read the title of this well-conceived and ill-concluded list. As I was chatting with Jackson, I noted “I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve sat in the car [with Kelly] and had her just listen to that keyboard solo [and resulting scream from Roger Daltrey],” and then stated “Kelly — this is what the end/beginning of the world will sound like.”

I know a cool song part when I hear one — there is something about the perfectly placed drum solo, the rising crush of an orchestra, a well placed lyric or perhaps a “ROCK!” that sends a shiver up my spine. It’s almost like I’m scared, excited and incensed all at once — such is the sway that music has o’er me. It’s not like I’ve always had this reaction to music, though. I clearly remember the first time it happened, and it was a bit of an odd circumstance for a revelation.

Cue wavy fingers of a man going back in time…

Well, I was working at Dairy Queen, washing dishes on a weekday night, possibly winter (winter fits the story, anyway). I was in my late teens, early twenties.

It was late at night, and we’ve got the radio tuned to some family-safe radio station — probably 107.7 WSFR — the best hits of the 70′s 80′s and today, played in a pseudo-random order, but with a very small sample of songs.
Considering the length of time I had worked at this restaurant, I’ve heard just about their whole playlist at least a hundred times over (all Jackson Brown songs are inexplicably played with twice the frequency, I don’t know why).
I know all the lyrics to every hit Kansas and Boston ever had — you know the one about “I done the rancher’s daaaaughter, and I sho’ did hurt his priiide”. Yeah, LOVE IT.
So anyway, it’s safe to say I’ve heard every hit song from the 70′s by now including Springsteen’s “Born to Run”.
There I am, attempting to scrape day-old burnt gravy out of the bottom of a stainless steel container.
Greasy Adidas Samba’s on my feet, black pants, apron and ball-cap, red shirt, pony-tail at the time.
…And that song comes on and, at that moment, I finally pay attention to it or perhaps, we paid attention to each other, I don’t know for sure.
But that opening of that song (the audio of which is sadly missing from it’s entry on that list) just grabbed me and I listened to the lyrics of hope and desperation on “mean streets”.
Streets that i’ve never tread, but the lyrics hit home, and hit home hard.

"Baby this town rips the bones from your back
It’s a death trap, it’s a suicide rap
We gotta get out while we’re young
`cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run"

"Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend
I want to guard your dreams and visions
Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims
and strap your hands across my engines"

His voice rising in intensity like a man trying to race up the stairs of a subway tunnel. The decrescendo of the middle of the song with Clarence’s sax going bum bum bum bu-bu-bu-bu-ba-bum. The dark before the dawn, and then that explosive rip of “The highway’s jammed with broken heroes…”
And i couldn’t help it — I let the dish fall in the sink, and I put my hands on the edge of the sink, and I just started to cry.
Not tears of sadness necessarily or even joy. Not the uncontrollable sobbing of terrible weight — just enough to know that I had been bested. Bested by a song that had hit me right square in the chest.

I think that might be where it started. A particular piece of music — just like these little chunks on the list — can hit me like a ton of bricks.
Like I said, a shiver up my spine, usually, but some things hit me right square and cut through all this flesh and bone and emotional defense, and POW. Right in the kisser.

So, yeah, from that point on, I’ve been a fan of Bruce Springsteen.

Why did it happen *right then*? When I know I’ve heard that song a million times? I’m not entirely sure, but I think I know myself a little better now.

(in no particular order)

(and these albums are new to ME this year)

1. The White Stripes – Elephant

I think this is pretty much self explanatory. This album rocks from the outer to the inner. Jack White is a genius — $10,000 on pre-1963 equipment, and turns out an album that sounds like Zeppelin in their prime. I’ve been kicked in the chest by rock.

2. The Postal Service – Give Up

Deathcab for Cutie frontman gives up the electronic emo lovin’. Now, I fully realize how weird “electronic emo” sounds — but this actually works. I’m serious. Shut up.

3. Bobby Bare, Jr. – Young Criminals Starvation League

Fantastic country-core sort of stuff. Something like Palace, but with more of a sense of humour, and a more of a sense of rock. Thanks, Jackson.

4. Spoon – Kill the Moonlight

Regarded as one of last year’s best albums, I finally found it and listened, and I have to agree. Tight musicianship with good beats and a little of the Elvis Costello thrown in with maybe a touch of Billy Joel.

5. David Cross – Shut Up, You Fucking Baby

It’s not music, but David Cross (from HBO’s Mr. Show, if you remember that) is a funny, funny man with a sense of humour like an encyclopedia dropped on your hand. Everyone who has listened to this is legally bound to quote it whenever and whereever. “You been CROSSed, mah-man!“

Thats all for now… perhaps more later.

Nabbed from Pitchfork’s news this morning:

The duo [The Blood Brothers] has, however, been tapped to appear at the Krazy Fest some time between August 1st and 3rd in Louisville, KY. Now, see if you can find it in yourself to forgive promoters for bestowing upon this festival the worst name in the history of all nomenclature, and then consider making the horribly long drive out, up or down to Kentucky– the land of fields, more fields, and a poorly named hardcore shindig. If you’re still the least bit interested, Louisville’s Waterfront Park will host the sixth annual rendition of this kraziness– a rough and tumble collection of raucous rawkers and hardcore pretty boys.

BTW, congratulations to those of you who managed to successfully navigate The Blood Brothers site. The navigation is absolutely atrocious. It is, however, a unique blend of non-intuitiveness blended with silly Flash toys and annoying sound. Thankfully, the music is better.

Back during the Great Vacation of 2001 I picked up a ridiculously cheap sampler from Fat Possum Records — Not The Same Old Blues Crap II. This is, hands down — one of the best various-artists albums I own, and all for $5. The blues I heard on there were so far removed from the Stevie Ray Vaughns , B. B. Kings and Claptons of the world. They were raw and rough and full of soul — with a good beat behind them. Well, since my new-years resolution of listening to more good music has come in-line, I’ve stumbled upon The Black Keys (Jackson mentioned them, methinks) — who are also on Fat Possum, and do not let down the rest of the FP roster! For being my age, these guys (there are just two) sound like they’ve been busting rocks for years, and when they do get out of the pokey all they’ve got to look forward to is sharecropping in the Mississippi Delta. Well, maybe that is a little overboard — but the soul and swagger these two put into their music is rarely heard among blues musicians today.

They’ve got a new album (“Thickfreakness”) due out the 8th of April, and they are touring with Sleater Kinney in the coming months. What, you want MP3s? Oh, I guess.