I realized that this record existed a few days ago. I’m enamored of it. First off, it’s a good jargon dictionary. As you might remember, I like those.

Believe it or not, it also has some good wisdom to it. The hip commandment: “Thou shalt not bug thy neighbor, which means be cool.”

It’s sampled on a DJ Food track, The Riff. I heard the track a number of years ago but hadn’t made the connection. Nice.

“It’s very important to work on your brains.” More wisdom.

Here’s a mini playlist I made. Also a demo of the playlist software, XSPF.

I am a consumptive music listener. When I find something I like I will listen it into the ground. I will repeat the track again and again, reveling in my favorite parts. Of course, this leads eventually to burnout and I’ll lay the tired and panting mp3 or cd to bed, or rather it simply isn’t selected as I am spinning my iWheel. There’s no closure there. Closure is for the weak, but I’ll deal with that later.

That inevitable and looming burnout point forces me to track down new music frequently. Unfortunately, I find myself demoralized by the lack of fresh sounds out there. This isn’t news: Independent rock music (my genre du époque) is frequently monosonorous. That’s a made up word. Don’t bother suing me — I’ll take care of it.

I’ll download and give these impotent audio attempts one, maybe two listens. And I’ll imagine those poor kids up there playing for their bread and water, but they just don’t have that spark. An album is an album is an album. Don’t ask me to do better, I’m an innocent bystander.

What’s the point of this post, anyway? I’m not proposing there is a solution to this, I’m not suggesting there is even a problem to solve. All I’d like to suggest is that musicians listen to their tracks on repeat for a day straight. Gentle minstrel: if you get bored, consider the board.

I went to see the Super Furry Animals play at the Music Hall of Williamsburg last night. Part of the exercise here was to get back into the habit of going to shows — one of my resolutions for the year.

I enjoyed the hall. I hadn’t been there since it was Northsix. By the way, visit Northsix’s website to see a creepy web ghost town. I’d think they would direct people to the new website.

Apart from having a somewhat confusing layout (the people they pay to walk the hallways and tell you where to go might better be replaced by signs) it’s got decent acoustics, great places to stand, and easy access to the full service bar in the lobby. There’s a wacky rotating mechanical marquee out front that grinds to a halt from time to time as if the place is 30 seconds pre-apocalypse and already downwind of a shitstorm. Reminds me of Bioshock.

Behind me in line on the way in I overheard an uncomfortable date between a young couple which went something like this:

Guy: “So… who are your top 25 Welsh bands.”
Girl: “Um… I dunno.”

As if that weren’t bad enough, the guy starts rattling off a list of presumably Welsh bands. I resolved to try not to behave like that. The best part came next.

Girl: “I can’t remember the last show I went to.”
Guy: “Me neither.”
Girl: “I think it was Dave Matthews.”
Guy: /disgustedGrunt
Girl: “Is that bad?”

She was clearly trying to annoy him. I stopped listening. The Furries were good, as were Holy Fuck, who opened. I read both of their Wikipedia articles on my phone as I nursed my bourbon between sets.

Remembering the conversation I had overheard I approached a young woman and starting talking to her about the bands as if I knew everything about them. She hadn’t really heard of the Furries. I told her I hadn’t until I read the Wikipedia article a minute before. She seemed slightly amused, but I don’t think it won me many points.