Listening Archives
Soul Weekenders
9:14 am | 1 | Video | Listening, Watching
Northern Soul in the UK.
Needing your lovin’
4:57 pm | 1 | Video | Listening
Johnny “Secret Agent Man” Rivers is playing in Stafford, TX the night before C goes offshore again. You better believe I already have my tickets, and my outfit picked out. I’m working on the dance.
While we’re on the topic of music, I’ve started (another) list — Shows I Have Seen, 2008.
(Crossposted at Houstonist, where I’m now a contributor.)
Waiting for the War on Bastille Day
1:31 pm | 0 | Video | Listening
French late 70s glam-psych rock band Soggy, via Beware of the Blog, who has more delicious info.
Make You Say Wow
3:39 pm | 0 | Video | Listening
Bob Log III is playing tonight at Rudyard’s. I’m going. You should too.
There is more video awesomeness here.
Who Is Singing Me Lullabies?
12:36 am | 0 | Internerd | Family, Listening
A touching NPR story in honor of Mother’s Day.
Black and proud
9:24 pm | 0 | Video | Listening
I know the 40th anniversary of the assassination of MLK was roughly a month ago, but above is an amazing video of James Brown performing in Boston the night after the shooting, and here is the accompanying story of how JB prevented a massive riot from happening that evening. (Via AskMe)
Four bands, two shows, one night
11:10 pm | 0 | Photo Album | Listening
Not much to say about Saturday night except it was so awesome I didn’t go to sleep until 5 a.m.
I was miraculously able to be in two places at once. Not exactly all at once, though. And I wasn’t the only one. Long-haired dude standing next to me at The Orange Show assuaged my fears by telling me that although the show at Rudyards was supposed to start at 9 p.m., the sound guy doesn’t even get to work until 10 p.m. Thanks long-haired dude, you were right.
I’ve never been to The Orange Show before. It’s a pretty awesome place, a very intimate venue, but damn hard to find. Cool thing about the show: at least 25% of the crowd was Cambodian. After they played I chatted up two of the guys from Dengue Fever, inviting them to Rudyards (they couldn’t make it but I got a nice phone call the next day).
At Rudz, Houston band The Born Liars blew my mind by playing some awesome garage rock wholly inconsistent with their Average-Joe images.
Friends of Formika® The Ugly Beats played loud and hard and set the tone for what was to follow. Not only that but all five of them were super nice and fun to dance with when The Fleshtones (also Friends of Formika®) finally hit the stage. EXCELLENT TRANSACTION WOULD DO BUSINESS WITH AGAIN11!!! Please come back to Houston soon, guys (and girl).
Everything you need to know about The Fleshtones you can learn here. Not content to play on Rudyard’s tiny stage, the guys took the show into the crowd for almost every song, creating more much energy in that club than I’ve felt since I was 16 years old and going to shows at Music D’s. The show was so loud my ears were ringing into Sunday night (I forgot my earplugs). Afterwards we all (Ugly Beats and Fleshtones included) went back to Formika’s house for cocktails and comraderie, which explains my extra-late bedtime.
Oh look, here are pictures of Formika (on the bass drum) and one of the back of my head dancing on stage with Peter.
Oh noes!
3:18 pm | 0 | Shorts | Houston, Listening
I just found out Neil Hamburger is performing Saturday night as well! I would hate this city if I didn’t love it so much.
Dilemma
5:17 pm | 0 | Blog | Listening
For a month I have been anxiously awaiting the March 29 performance of Asian-beat psych-pop band Dengue Fever.
Yesterday I found out that The Fleshtones are playing the same night, along with friends of my friend Miss Formika. If I could be in two places at once, I would, but as of now it looks like I might be forced to choose.
To make matters worse, I have developed bruises on the tops of my feet from dancing/being danced on during Tuesday night’s show.
There were never any good ol’ days
11:27 pm | 2 | Photo Album | El Perro, Listening
Gogol Bordello restored my faith in rock-n-roll last night. Best show of the year, so far, but Dengue Fever is next weekend so we shall see.
Before the show I was walking Gus* as the sun was setting when we crossed paths with a small gray creature moving slowly along the sidewalk. On a couple of evenings Gus and I have come across a huge possum chillaxin’ near the dumpster in the alley across the street. By huge I mean bigger than Gus, who weighs 25 pounds. I think someone feeds it — there is a hole under the fence through which it always scurries and in the mornings I see paper plates with what looks like cat food lovingly placed in the escape path.
But last night the possum we saw was quite small, probably juvenile, and slow to climb the bush where it sought refuge from my canine. Gus was straining at his leash and I was curious to get as close to the joey as possible, but the kiddo remained calm and cool, not quite playing dead but not ignoring us either. I damned myself for not having my camera and briefly considered running inside for it but was afraid the dude would be gone by then. It was cute! I wanted to snuggle it, but the thought of it’s tiny possum paws scratching out my eyeballs made me keep my distance. That and the fact Gus was FREAKING OUT. Anyway, I think it’s pretty cool that I live about one minute from downtown off one of the busiest streets in Houston and I have wildlife literally in my front yard.
Here comes the sad part of the story: this morning as we were walking before work Gus and I came across a stray cat near the same dumpster where we see the big possum. Cat looked dirty and skinny from afar, typical for a stray, but it was lazing in a patch of sunlight and seemed undisturbed until it noticed us and Gus noticed it. Then it raised it’s head and I could see what looked like a long, thick string of either snot or pus hanging from it’s face. One of it’s eyes was swollen closed. And instead of darting away it got up real slow and then I saw that it’s tail was almost nearly hairless and as thin around as my pinkie. It didn’t even have the energy to run away, only to hiss a weak warning at us.
The whole sight was so simultaneously saddening and disgusting that I felt physically ill. I’m am not much of a cat lover, but jeez, even a raging bastard could understand why I had a hard time choking back tears as I walked back to our door. Poor, poor baby. I wonder now if the cat food was actually for the cat, not the fat possum, and if so then someone is severely neglecting that cat, even if it’s just someone who’s feeding a stray.
I couldn’t be party to that neglect, so as soon as I got to work I called the HSPCA. I’m not entirely sure I’ve done my good deed for the day though. If the cat gets rescued and rehabilitated then I’ll think I have, but even if it’s humanely put out of it’s misery I will feel better for having called. Uhg, even the small amount of recollection it takes to type this has my throat tightening and my heart hurting for that poor little baby.
*Speaking of Gus, this month my sweet little clown is turning six years old.