“Tupac Shakur makes me cry. Listening to Pac is a frightfully emotional experience for me. “So Many Tears” remains the only song the full lyrics of which I would be willing to tattoo on my body. Pac makes way more sense to me and seems so much more like me than any of these prep school indie jerks I have so much actually in common with. Kurt Vonnegut said that (paraphrasing) when he listened to music, he knew there must be a God. I’m inclined to agree.”—
"Last Night (The Strokes cover)" // the morning benders
The masters of covers, The Morning Benders, contribute to the tribute album for Is This It, which has celebrated 10 years of shredding excellence. Sterogum presented Stroked on Tuesday. Along with the Morning Benders, the cover album also features Frankie Rose, Real Estate and Peter Bjorn & John. This is my favorite track, of course. Enjoy.
“Music festivals offer us a vacation from real life. Everyone slips into a slightly affected reality when they enter the gates of a festival like Pitchfork. Everyone is forced to deal with their own notions of individuality as they join a mass of people who are dressed exactly like them and having exactly the same concert experience as them. I think this makes a lot of people uncomfortable and standoffish. But the people who are able to disentangle their identity from their taste in music and manner of dress, these people are the ones who really enjoy themselves; those of us who can spot the other guy in the Daniel Johnston t-shirt and chuckle at each other like two men dressed as Santa Claus in the same subway car on their morning commute to different malls during Christmas time.”—
All right. Here’s me totally getting behind this track. BBC was hard for me to listen to at first; I’m not really sure why. But, after listening to Flaws, it all clicked. If the rest of the forthcoming album has this kind of energy, I will inevitably fall in love. Enjoy.
Feel free to read a little something I wrote (with the help of the handsome Andrew McClain) about Pitchfork Music Festival on the WERW blog. I’ve been dragging my feet writing it, because I simply don’t want the magic to end. God, I miss Ariel Pink.
I cannot count the times I walked around, hood covering my blonde head, whilst “Love Is A Losing Game” played on repeat through my over-sized headphones. Some had Elvis to sing them the blues, some had Billie Holiday, but my broken hearts were always massaged with the eminent sadness of Back To Black.
You all know the avid contributor to The Miscreant, Mr. Matt Gasda. Please read his poem on Gadfly! Also, look to the next issue of The Miscreant, which will be out this Friday, for his latest column. (And don’t forget to submit something by tomorrow night!)
My dear friend Katie and I drove around last night, listening to my favorite album when I was thirteen. It is ever so fitting that my first night back in Indiana was set to the longing vocals of Chris Carrabba. It’s all so nostalgic; and coming home is walking right in to nostalgia’s beckoning arms. These arms are warm and safe, but ultimately unfulfilling. And isn’t this song just the tip of the iceberg? Watching someone live in a past life, longing for an idealized version of what their life used to be like.
I suppose it’s time to re-read Wish You Were Here, and think of seemingly simpler times.