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Archive for March, 2007

I think I’ve found a box to check. I wouldn’t say I’m a straight ticket voter for the Party of Joe, but it’s a nice place to imagine starting.

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I took a five minute study break and read a page of Paste. This is the gift bestowed on me for my sluggardliness:

An iTunes add-on that will tell me when any artist in my library is playing within driving distance, with a compass in the stock and a thing that tells time!

Now I can never blame Durham again.

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Just got an e-mail about Fuller’s iTunes U stuff. There is a chapel sermon, a “heard on campus” segment, and a continuing education lecture by my brilliant and longsuffering mentor. And just about anything that comes out of Rich Mouw’s mouth is gold.

Ok. All done. Lady Day’s on. Leaving wireless range immedi

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1. Yes, I am a male between 18 and 40, and, no, I haven’t seen 300. But we did see The Prestige. Mmmmm, Nolanicious. Exploring the idea that no one cares about the man in the box. Divining the skeptics from the believers (my wife wins).

2. Arcade Fire’s Neon Bible. It’s like listening to my twenty-year-old dubbed cassette of Echo and the Bunnymen. With the treble turned down. Underwater. In a cathedral. But I like it – they actually sound like a band.

3. Andrew Bird’s new record arrives next week, and I caught rumors of new Spoon and Laura Veirs this month. Ah, this is going to be a good Spring for ears. I am trying not to get my hopes up for everything promised this year, but it’s a pretty amazing line-up.

4. John Vanderslice: A great way to spend your time waiting for Andrew Bird. He’s on the list for 2007 releases, too. I liked what I’d heard of Pixel Revolt, but have really been digging the earlier and uniquier Life and Death of an American Fourtracker. I’ve been surprised to find that he’s only available (in reconstituted form) at iTunes. Sometimes indie indon’t.

Okay! I’m working! I’m working!

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I’m studying at Muddhouse today, one of my favorite joints for caffeinated wifi between here and there. They only play two cds: an instrumental hymns disc, and Billy Holiday. So I can usually get some reading done. Right after I check my e-mail. Anyway, the point is, there was just a classical guitar arrangement of “O God, Our Help in Ages Past” on, and a twentysomething customer asked the barista, “Is this Tenacious D?”

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Hey Ya

This is probably going to catch on like OK Go on treadmills, if it hasn’t already. I am a little behind, I’m sure. I saw this a few days ago, and then discovered that this is Obadiah Parker (the band, not the guy), a group with Waterdeep affinities. Go figure. OK.

By the way, Waterdeep is on myspace now, with all the other folks trying to corrupt our youth. Which is nice, because now you can listen to their songs when you’re away from your MP3 player. Their friends list is kind of like a bookmark warehouse for anything worth listening to in CCM.

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I read the LA Times reviews of Christina Aguilera at Staples Center and Fiona Apple at Largo last week. The articles were continued in parallel columns in the Calendar section, and I was initially just skimming the Aguilera review for lack of interest in everything else seen fit to print (alright, I was procrastinating), when I noticed that both reviews – by different writers – concluded that the power of these performances rested ultimately on the sheer will of the performers. I thought that an interesting comparison between these two very distinct (?) artists. And a very interesting choice – not passion, charisma, or talent, but will itself projected at the listeners. I’m having a little trouble figuring out what this means, in either case, and (if it’s not a sign sent directly to me by a secret government agency) what kind of journey into the matrix one has to take to develop this kind of power. Do all celebrities have it, or just small blonde ones? Is there hope for anyone to stand against the will of the Olsen twins?

There’s all kinds of liturgical theological goo in this, but I’m going to bed instead of sticking my fingers in there.

Durham, I blame you for missing Apple, Jon Brion, and 2/3 of Nickel Creek. If you were there, then I double blame you.

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