If Sting truly lives like an English lord of yore -- which is probably a given for anyone living in an actual castle -- does that mean that every time he goes out on tour, it's the modern-day equivalent of leaving for the Crusades? It would certainly make the Police reunion more interesting, and put even Def Leppard's backstage debauchery to shame. However, I don't remember many sexual discrimination lawsuits being filed in the Middle Ages -- most law clerks were, according to the historical documentaries I've watched, gathering "some lovely filth" or working primarily as Shrubbers -- so that does take His Stingliness down a peg or two on the Richard the Lionheart scale (today, we use the Fahrenheit or Celsius scales to gauge an English King's manliness).

For anyone wishing to confirm or deny my theories about olden times, check out Shorpy: The 100-Year-Old Photo Blog. Sure, it doesn't go back to the 12th and 13th Century (all photographs and Warren Zevon records were burned during the Spanish Inquisition), but it is incredibly cool and contains the equally fascinating microblog Ghost Cowboy (a collection of headlines and newspaper stories circa 1900, all dealing with cowboys and Indians). Check both out and thank me later.

Neither website, however, sells or promotes the most essential of all things elderly and statesman-like: I am of course referring to the Man-from-Mars Radio Hat, pictured here:

The most obviously useful thing about this hat is the historical fact that it was used to repel the Martians who attacked in War Of The Worlds, but was sadly misplaced prior to the Mars Attacks! fiasco...so many lives lost so unnecessarily... But look closer and you'll see that this is no mere baseball cap, but the uber-functional -- and always fashionable, ask any lady -- safari hat. Do you know how many times Teddy Roosevelt turned to a colleague in Africa during his 1909 Smithsonian safari and said, "It is absolutely imperative that I be able to listen to either the Schoolhouse Rocks! soundtrack or the Rock Star soundtrack immediately, post haste!" Yeah, a lot, exactly (although the actual number is probably less than the 11,397 animals killed or captured during the expedition).

I suggest to you that if this hat were still being marketed today, it would sell far better than the new iPhone and all past sales of iPods combined (and at $7.95, it's a steal, too).

So out with the old, in with the new. Yes, I finally have songs to download, and double yes, this will be a regular feature that will hopefully take off pretty quickly. This time around, it's two cuts from the Wood Brothers' June 17th performance at World Cafe Live in Philadelphia:

The Wood Brothers - When I Was Young

The Wood Brothers - Twisted

Listen, I can't say enough good things about Oliver and Chris Wood. The music is deceptively simple but surprisingly full, both in the sound that these two can achieve, and the wry near-gallows storytelling of Oliver's lyrics (listen to "Twisted" to see what I mean). And while they've been grandfathered into the jam band scene because of Chris' work in Medeski, Martin and Wood (among the 8 million other things he's done), the backbone of the duo is the exceptional songwriting. I'm sure that the majority of interviews/articles about the band have suggested that the music is so engaging and immediate because its gospel, blues and jazz roots tug on some sort of genetic-American strain that we all understand and identify with subconsciously. Bull. These guys simply write and play top-notch songs with such unassuming conviction (and the right amount of self-effacing cleverness) that it's impossible not to be charmed by the whole package, novelty and oh-how-we-love-talented-siblings included.

I've also included our High Noon Friday review of their first record, Ways Not To Lose, from back in March of 2006:

High Noon Music Reviews - 3/17/06

More posts soon, more independent/local/major-label-but-kind-enough-to-give-me-access-to-their-songs music soon, and who knows what else. Check back regularly and tell your friends -- the more people we can drag in here, the better. Oh, and please comment to let me know if everything is downloading correctly...I'm still trying to iron out some of these details.

For anyone reading closely, here's a question: If Teddy Roosevelt (a nickname he vehemently hated, by the way) had been alive during the rock and roll era, what albums/artists would he like and why? TR Badass and the Bullmooses are excluded, of course.

Visit http://myothercentaur.blogspot.com for more content! Subscribe in a feed reader or by e-mail!

The above quote is without question the single most entertaining comment I've ever read on the Internet. The first tidbit today, however, is not about pandas but peacocks, known in some parts of the world as "what a panda would look like if it were a bird and had no resemblance to a panda whatsoever" (and now you see why most people just stick with "peacock").

...that my entire family was killed by a band of half-crazed gypsy mimes (or "migrant mimes?" That's probably a funnier image). Actually, it was 40 years ago last month that "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" was released. XPN put on a huge tribute show that I missed despite being on the Penn campus just before it started, so now I have to make my amends by adding my own twopence to the whole affair.

For me, the Beatles' recording career fits into 4 easy categories: the early "Yeah yeah yeah" era, which contains some of the greatest pop songs ever; the "Revolver/Rubber Soul" era; "Sgt. Pepper's" as its own thing; and finally, "Abbey Road" as its own entirely different thing. "Revolver" and "Rubber Soul" were always my favorites growing up, and "Sgt. Pepper's" my least. For some reason it took me forever to warm up to it -- forever as in up until last year. There was just something off about it; it wasn't as tight or immediate as "Rubber Soul," but it was much more of a production (and thus should have been tighter? Who knows). I still don't know what I didn't like about it, but I definitely do know what I like about it now.

The most amazing thing about the whole album for me is how much space there is on it. Critics of the album have always said that it was overproduced; that there was too much emphasis on playing with 8-track recording machines and not enough on songwriting. But if you listen to all the space on "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" (or any other song, really), that argument doesn't hold up very well (and should really be reserved for "Abbey Road"). Is there a lot of weird stuff on there? Sure. Is "A Day In The Life" bloated and awful? Yes. But the only real musical misstep is an editorial one: "Strawberry Fields Forever" and "Penny Lane" were both recorded in the same sessions but left off the record for some reason (the "Strawberry Fields" omission being the bigger crime of the two). And I think "Hello Goodbye" and "Rain" may have been contenders at one point as well, although neither of the latter would have fit as well as the former. And who could forget "Exciting Sandwich," with its exquisite four-part harmony and bird's eye view?

For the rebellious at heart, remember that this album was essentially the Beatles rejecting their identity, both personal and public. I've been trying to find a clip from when the "Strawberry Fields" video premiered on American Bandstand. Yes, there was a music video, and yes, that song was released as a single before the full album. The best part about the clip is Dick Clark interviewing the audience after the video plays. Everyone is completely turned off by it, most of them commenting on how "weird" everyone looks with mustaches and beards. I think we take classic albums for granted without considering how possible it is for a sea change to end a band's success, or how often classics are met with skepticism or indifference upon their initial release.

None of that is very profound of course, but it's a good segue into something that probably was. To commemorate the album's anniversary, the University of Leeds hosted a major academic conference about the cultural significance -- or lack thereof -- of "Sgt. Pepper's." Listen, I love quality pop culture that borders on art, and I especially love it when it merits serious academic study. There are plenty of links on Google to academic articles about the album; check them out if you're interested.

Not to be outdone by its Anglo competition (or co-Anglo, as they're both British), the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography has an interactive version of the album's iconic art which allows users to read up on most of the actors/musicians/authors featured on the sleeve simply by pointing and clicking. Pointing and clicking! What's next, electronic postal mail? Seriously though, I was pretty mega-nerd excited when I found this tool -- make sure you check it out.

There really is music coming. I promise promise promise it's coming soon. I'm just still juggling my time, my astounding stupidity when it comes to file hosting, my steady paycheck that never seems to be enough, and my complete lack of coordination that makes successful juggling about as likely as my becoming a vegetarian. For now, read this interview with Oliver Wood of The Wood Brothers, whom I had the good fortune of finally seeing a couple weeks ago. Perhaps a track from that show will be the first download I have on here...?

And I'd be remiss to forget about my other tidbit of musical history, genteel-ly researched by our friends Drew & Natalie at Marriedtothesea.com:

Well, it's only been 2 months since I published here, which means I only have the sketches of 4 or 5 posts to flesh out. Maybe having a lot to talk about will make my commentary light and brief.

First things first, perhaps the most exciting picture I've ever seen:

The first picture of Harrison Ford on the "Indiana Jones IV" set. Does he look dead? Yes, but I'll take a dead Harrison Ford in a fedora over a live Brendan Fraser in a mummy anyday. I'm not even going to say anything else about this, because when the moon is full and I can't stop humming the Indiana Jones themesong, I'm sure I'll blog about this again. Blog blog.

In totally unrelated news, the Copyright Royalty Board's fee hike for streaming internet radio is set to go into effect in a couple weeks. I mentioned this is an earlier post but I've started to understand it more, based on my own research and the PR pummeling the WXPN has been handing out all day (XPN silenced all of its streaming channels for the day to protest the rate increase; for more on that, see the link at the end).
It seems that the real culprit is the Digital Millenium Copyright Act, "which designateded online broadcasts as performances requiring royalties, as opposed to radio broadcasts which must pay only songwriters." Supposedly there are about 3 people in the world thinking that the rate increase is a step forward for working musicians; everyone else recognizes that internet streams are often amateur and/or nonprofit-based, thus giving exposure to artists without deep Payola pockets or strong followings.

Between a total of 2 1/2 hours in the car each day (exclusive of the 8 1/2 hours I'm at work) and a computer that I'm pretty sure is moonlighting as a Luddite, updating this thing has been a bit of a nightmare. It has gotten to the point, however, that I have so much to talk about (perhaps because of the 2 1/2 hours narrated by the radio) that I'm going to force myself to be more timely with this. By the end of the weekend I'll have at least 1 more post, barring the further devolution of my laptop (or, "If a problem comes along, I will certainly whip it").

In the meantime, think about this: why is it that there are only two maladies that are treated to the "the" treatment? "The Plague" and "The Hiccups." Are these on equal footing? Seriously, we don't even say "The Cancer" or "The AIDS." And if you try to say "I have hiccups" it sounds somehow empty and devoid of its fake menace...weird.

Click here to sign XPN's online petition to support the bipartisan Internet Radio Equality Act of 2007, or "IREA" for those of you who enjoy the Cockney or Jamaican shorthand for Irritable Bowl Syndrome; say it out loud, it's fun.

or, "March did indeed go out like a gentle lamb...so what the fuck is April's problem?" The last thing on my mind as I was driving through the pouring rain this morning (or is it "pouring through the driving rain?") was the firebombing of Dresden. But bad news comes in threes and I was dealt a seriously disappointing blow when I heard that Kurt Vonnegut died early this morning -- and from head injuries suffered during a fall, no less. The third piece of bad news?....

I read Vonnegut for the first time in high school and although I didn't realize it at the time, it was probably the best thing I read during the 12-year "literary dry-spell" that is public grade school (I hear Catholic school kids get to read lots of Penthouse. True story). It was my first taste of the "theatre of the absurd"...I remember being shocked that something this bizarre, biting, sharp and scattershot could be considered serious literature -- although it probably isn't hard to understand my surprise when what had passed for "literature" so far was The Scarlet Letter (why didn't we read "Young Goodman Brown"? So much more interesting). Anyway, my Vonnegut is more than a little rusty, but reading Slaughterhouse-Five was one of those formative experiences that doesn't come around quite as often as I get older and more cynical/critical about what I see/hear.

In tribute to Vonnegut, I'm including these two National Geographic images:

This young lady's name is Kilgore. This is a trout who has either said something scandalous or disarmingly charming and witty judging by Kilgore's expression.

This image belongs in the category of "We photographed this because it was wacky, but it has no inherent anthropological value." This category is a close runner-up to my favorite category, "This is unwittingly-yet-patently racist." It also reminds me of Captain Beefheart's "Trout Mask Replica," which in turn reminds me of Kilgore Trout. Get it? I can't turn off this word association nonsense. Check this out: my car has been christened "Professor Moriarty" because it's shape reminds me of a monocle for some reason. But do I picture Professor Moriarty with a monocle? No, not at all. I don't even picture him with a tophat. And no, I'm not confusing the arch-nemesis of Sherlock Holmes with Mr. Peanut (although a reality show that included the two of them as roommates would be wonderful).
Anyone interested in a fine essay/interview about Vonnegut -- where he points out the following

"You must realize that the priceless gift that African Americans gave us musically is now almost the only reason many foreigners still tolerate us. That specific remedy for the worldwide epidemic of depression is 'the blues.' "

-- should check out this link.

**I should note that this was written more than a week before it was posted, as the internet here apparently died with Mr. Vonnegut. Oh, and "ghoulishly excited" means excited in a learing, maniacal and often morbid way. Imagine the look on Vincent Price's face if he opened his front door to find a life-sized chocolate rabbit. It's like that, but usually less entertaining.**

After a weekend spent gutting the basement/nasally ingesting an amount of mold that would mummify a lesser man, I'm reminded that I've been neglecting one of my serious obsessions: old things. This general category includes remnants of a 5-foot tall styrofoam T-rex, vinyl album art, other people's grandmas and, most importantly, old advertisements/posters/photographs (I'm ghoulishly excited about the day I inherit my grandmother's collection of turn-of-the-century 4x6 photographic slides).
In celebration of this (and my impending certification as a professional snippet writer and word associator), I'm going to start posting ads I scavenged from issues of National Geographic circa 1955 - 1963. Here's one that will hopefully ring in an era of compelling and boisterous ad copy on my part:

Allow me to enlarge some select lines (why oh why is Blogger's "very large" setting for images this small?):

"Out of the mountains they came with hunting knives, Kentucky rifles and freedom blazing white-hot in their eyes [emphasis in the actual ad]."

WOW! I will melt some internet faces if I can harness that kind of rhetoric. Let's see more:

"And you can muse for a moment on the unlettered backwoodsmen who wrote a shining page in freedom's book. The handwriting might be crude -- but the message was unmistakably clear...no mountain is too high for men to scale when freedom waits at the top."

Holy smokes that is over the top. And what's better than advertising that has absolutely no concept of its place in the world?

There are so many things I have to write about, but the new work schedule doesn't allow for a lot of time once I get home (and 8+ hours in front of a computer screen is enough at the end of the day). But I am going to go Weekend Warrior on this blog -- obviously more fun than spending my birthday discussing minor drinking problems with Nicolai Dunger like last year -- and catch up on what hasn't been posted this week. Right now, enjoy the creepiest level of Batman exploitation since George Clooney (and my evidence in support of fast-tracking Adam West to sainthood, or at least Nessie mythic status):

Ah, yes. The age-old question asked by many a man. For example, I believe someone on the set of "Tootsie" asked this about Dustin Hoffman; the creepy bus driver in "Mrs. Doubtfire" asked this about Robin Williams; and who could forget the 1782 edition of "Poor Richard's Almanac," devoted entirely to Benjamin Franklin's unrequited love of John Adams.
I, however, am referring to this woman:

The Food Network has her, but I want her. Giada De Laurentiis (who was, if I remember my "Inferno" correctly, located in the 5th circle of Hell) is so gorgeous, but is she a midget? You'll note that this is the most un-PC thing I've posted yet, but I need to know. I think it's just the camera angles...she's probably like 5 foot nothing and thinks that mounting a camera on the overhead light of the kitchen is a good idea.

Besides, if she were really a midget, she'd be making pies out of children. It's no coincidence that "midget" is "witch" spelled backwards.

Assume that there is further information here about music, which may or may not be edited in later. Seriously, I need to start posting songs on here.

As I've been waiting for the various muses to bestowe upon me actual working knowledge of the internet that would allow for this music blog to include, you know, music, I've been lamenting two things about leaving the radio station: not being able to review music for any real purpose, and not getting any music to review.
Luckily, FirstListen.org exists to fill that void. Here's how it works: artists large (the Raconteurs, Josh Ritter, Ray Lamontagne) and small (no pun intended to the very talented Carsie Blanton) submit their upcoming or recently released releases ("Sting, Stang, Stung") to the service, which in turn provides said releases to its members for review. Too dry and clinical? Try this description: you get lots of free music, the only catch being that you have to fill out a short survey about each record you get. The artists see these reviews and can tailor their releases accordingly (or panic in the event that the album is already out and beyond all help). From their website:

FirstListen.org does grassroots distribution/promotions for up and coming musicians (or established ones who would like to receive exposure). We're interested in listeners who have a geniune interest in music. We provide you with free music in hopes of you providing us with feedback about the music.
The only thing you're required to do at this time is to provide us with feedback on the free music you are receiving through a short (NOT long) online survey that you'll be asked to complete after a mailing goes out. It's very simplistic and self-explanatory. Advanced technological/web skills need not apply. The artists, record labels, or management personnel who are involved rely on feedback and this is the best way for them to aquire it.

I'm sure there are plenty of people with awful taste in music who have signed up for the service just for the perks. So I'm trusting you, loyal reader(s), to get involved for the sake of the artists who require good and careful input. Plus, you get free music...this is called circular logic or, in some cultures, a one-track mind...

Meanwhile, the Copyright Royalty Board is planning on increasing royalty rates on internet music streams to the tune of "online music streams will go out of business." Unfortunately, it's another symptom of a flagging record industry trying to save itself and failing to keep up and/or play nice with the new-fangled Interweb. Visit Savethestreams.org to see what you can do to help.

And for all of you synthesizer fans out there, observe the genius that is "Dr. Synthesizer Volume 2: I Will Teach You Again" (a.k.a. Drew of marriedtothesea and Toothpaste for Dinner):

Among the great internal debates that blogging has produced in me (and we'll pretend that these are the reasons why I can't update regularly), deciding how self-indulgently nerdy I want to be is chief among them. That being said, I'm leading off this post with the following clip of Steven Colbert receiving the recently deceased Captain America's shield.

Charming, but more importantly, further blurring the line between fact and the "truthiness" of Captain America's existence.
We all know about my obsessive love affair with Paste magazine (the thinking man's...magazine). It's an absolute essential for people of the XPN persuasion interested in broadening their musical/cultural horizons. But recently I was reading the "letters to the editor" section of a couple issues and noticed some really innane letters coming in. This is from the October issue, regarding coverage:

I was perplexed to find full pages on Kanye West, Jamie Foxx and, to my shock, madonna (small m intentional, since she's not the real Madonna)....

My feelings about bringing religion into every single sentence that escapes your mouth aside, this is just too much. It's the woman's name. If it were a stage name I could maybe understand the most passive-aggressive attack on a celebrity I've ever seen, but it's the woman's real name. This is like refusing to respect anyone of Hispanic heritage named Jesus, or lower-casing (what an action verb!) the names of two Beatles (John and Paul of course, although Ringo could stand to be taken down a peg as well...yes, I'm still angry that he left "Shining Time Station"). However, as far as misguided actions based on religion go, this one is pretty neutral. Here's another letter from this month's issue:

Let me start by saying that you guys make a good magazine, the features are usually insightful and well-written. But your reviews section needs serious work. Of the 50 or so music reviews, I've heard of perhaps 10. As far as this month's film reviews, I haven't heard of a single one [...] I suggest putting in fewer movies directed by some Russian intellectual living in Malaysia and adding more that people have heard of.

I was unreasonably angry when I read this. Look, if you want reviews you've heard of, buy the vapid and limp publication that calls itself Rolling Stone (I'm pretty sure the real Rolling Stone is relocated in some sort of witness protection program). This isn't specifically to knock RS or its writers, but it is a jab at the awful "music" their writers cover, and the kind of people who only want to read about corporate music that's already getting too much airplay. You don't buy an alternative magazine -- especially one dedicated as much to culture (read: foreign films) as to music -- to read about things you already own. Not only do I not understand someone being subscribed to a magazine that is apparently not satisfying their expectations, but after a few issues, wouldn't you get the hint and perhaps not write in and make an ass of yourself? Godspeed, Johnny Mulligan of McLean, Virginia...one can only hope that you're 14 years old.

Meanwhile, James Morrison was on World Cafe a few days ago. Interesting guy...his voice is this perfect and very eerie marriage of Ray Lamontagne and Jonny Lang. Notice I said "interesting guy": this means that his voice is bad, and his songs are also bad. That sentence includes both uses of the word "bad"; look him up and figure out which is which.

I'm going to post again tomorrow, and you will all be stunned.