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‘So we tripped upstairs’

We spent a pleasant Sunday afternoon on the deck. We built a fire. There are woods behind us, but we went out and purchased firewood. I have joked about buying a chainsaw, finding the owner of those woods and … well, maybe I should do that in the other other … meeting the owner of the woods and ask if they minded if I pulled the occasional felled tree out for the fire pit.

But I haven’t done that. The Yankee bought some wood, some really green stuff, and we struggled through that for a while. I used every trick before adding an accelerant to make that stuff to burn. But we needed more firewood and so, yesterday, we went to a proper lumber man. He has an honor system set up. Put your money in the box over here, draw your wood from that stack over there. It was perfect. When we put the flame to the wood it caught straight away.

It was the perfect temperature. You didn’t need to hug the fire to be warm. You didn’t get too hot if you leaned in too far. I wonder how long a trunk’s worth of wood will last.

Light weekend on the bike for whatever reason. I just go by feel, really. And after a few low key days I’m sure I’ll feel the need to put in more miles. But I have screen grabs, because I need content. Here’s a flat spot after a downhill from Saturday’s ride.

And then, for some reason, all of the HUD graphics disappeared. It was lovely. No times of other rides or maps, just a road. It was a bit like, well, riding a bike.

I’m not sure how I managed to do that to the Zwift interface, or what brought the graphics back. I’ve cropped them out here, because I like the side view as a change of pace, those flowers are nice and … what is going on with my avatar’s knee?

My knees sometime feel like that, too.

I also got in 26 miles this evening, and my knees feel great! (It was a generally flat course, just 1,000 feet, or so, of climbing.)

The 2023 Zwift route tracker: 71 routes down, 53 to go.

But enough about me on my site. Let’s get to what you’re really here for, the weekly check-in on the cats, who are both doing well, by the way.

Phoebe has absolutely developed a sun routine. At a certain point of the morning, on those days when we have sun, it can stream into the bedroom. We have some heavy duty curtains, so if her time of the morning has arrived, and we haven’t opened those curtains, she knows. She’s not a big complainer, mind you, but she will sit. She will sit, and she will wait. She will sit, and she will wait for the sun to be presented to her. She will sit. She will wait. She will judge.

She judges me a lot. Fortunately, she is fair, and forgiving.

Mostly because she likes to cuddle. Here’s the standard issue Sunday night cuddle.

Sometimes, you just have to sit on the steps and think on the deep, profound issues of life.

On this particular night, Poseidon was thinking about how he comes to find himself with a napkin over his head, holes cut out for his ears.

He’s thinking of a ghost costume for Halloween this year.

We play a game every Sunday morning. He rolls around on the oven cover, delighting in the heat that’s escaping after bacon and biscuits. After I do the breakfast dishes I rub his face down with a napkin. We pay special attention to his ears and his cheeks and his chin and he loves it. After a time, he feels his face is clean and at that point the napkin has somehow become offensive, and he starts biting it, and me. Yesterday that got a bit aggressive, and he tore a hole in the thin paper. Open it up, and the holes were the perfect size and spacing for his radar ears.

Back then, I just didn’t buy everything right away. Probably because I couldn’t afford it. Plus media consumption was a little bit different. It is also possible that some of these CDs got slipped into the CD books a little out of sequence. One of those, or some other banal explanation, applies here. Anyway, let’s call it the spring of 1996 and return to the Re-Listening project with a perfectly produced example of alt pop from Arizona.

“Congratulations I’m Sorry” came out in February of 1996. I probably bought this from one of the two independent music stores that were in town. (It wouldn’t be too many more years before that sentence was, itself, outdated.) I probably paid between $7 and $12 for it. Worth every penny. Panned by critics for a lack of innovation, it’s really a continuation of Gin Blossoms’ previous record, which we breezed through earlier this month.

This one went platinum, but underperformed their second record. It made it into the top 10 on the US Billboard 200 weekly chart, and settled at 138 on the year-ender. They are, of course, still playing the hits from both today. (We saw them twice last year.)

So here are some more prime alternative pop deep cuts coming your way.

Somewhere between the flannel and finding jobs, these songs were part of the soundtrack of a century slowing wrapping itself up. That’s as profound as I can get.

This one got nominated for a Grammy, and was probably a profound breakup song for someone trying to wrap up a century. Not for me, but for someone.

They were really after something with that video, no?

No video here, but a nice live audio recording which does a nice enough job pointing out that Jesse Valenzuela makes the whole band work.

The Wikipedia entry has a “People” review I can’t find quickly online, but runs the quote “a quick fix for any dark mood … the songs are so upbeat they almost conjure sunny summer afternoons.” And that seems fair.

Also, I think this is one of the better songs of its genre and time.

A lot of people posting and uploading to YouTube seem to agree. There are a lot of shaky phone shots of live shows, and more than a few personal covers of “Competition Smile.”

I saw them on campus on this tour, and not too long after that they went on hiatus for a few years. They’d been through a lot. The title of this record, after all, stems from people acknowledging their last record’s success, and sharing in their grief of the 1993 suicide of former lead singer, Doug Hopkins. “Congratulations I’m Sorry.”

He’s not on this record, but they’ll be playing his songs this weekend in New York and Pennsylvania.

The band in our next installment of the Re-Listening project is also on tour this spring. If you’re in Florida next month, maybe you can still get a ticket. But more from them tomorrow.

cycling / memories / music / Re-Listening / Thursday / video — Comments Off
16
Feb 23

Time is mutable

This I don’t understand. It was 67 yesterday. We’ll have the chance of snow tomorrow. This is my only comment on the day, the only one that needs to be recorded for posterity about the mysteriousness of February 16, 2023.

But also this, time is a mutable construct. Tuesday, I unsubscribed from two series of emails. I have read them, perused them, skimmed them, clicked the interesting links within them faithfully. But, lately, they just seemed a chore. I have been on the fence for a while. A developer I know made some comment about each of these services that finally pushed me to the unsubscribe side. So, then, yesterday was the first day that I didn’t receive those daily emails — it could be two, it could be 12 a day, and you never knew what your inbox would receive. And yesterday, I noted at 3:31, had already been 32 hours long.

A friend told me I should re-subscribe, because friends are enablers, but I’m curious to see how this plays out. Today, for instance, was only 17 hours long. Time is mutable.

Let’s quickly get caught back up — before falling behind once again — on the Re-Listening project. I am forever impressed by how fast a CD goes by in the car. It’s a nine-mile round trip from the house to the office, but that’s somehow 40-50 minutes, whether I want it to be or not, and that’s in the window of a standard CD run time. But I digress.

As you know, I’m playing, and putting these here, in the order of acquisition. So we’re somewhere in 1996, but this was one of those tape-to-CD format upgrades, so we have to step way back in time, to 1994. And according to the arbitrary rules I have arbitrarily made, I can gloss over the upgrades.

I saw DMB on tour on the next few records, just before they got prohibitively expensive.

Back in the day my roommate, Chuck, and I had a sophisticated musical code. Certain records meant certain things. This CD, for a time, was one of those signals.

Yes, fair or not, I blame DMB for starting the concert inflation trend. But I caught them twice, right place, affordable times, I suppose.

Back then, virtuoso guitarist Tim Reynolds and fiddler Boyd Tinsley seemed like the band to me. I don’t think I’ve heard anything new since LeRoi Moore died in 2008 — so I’m four albums behind. There’s been some turnover in the band, but Reynolds is still there (he’s the secret weapon) and the rhythm section is intact. I’m sure it’s fine, but I don’t know if it is a time and place thing. Something else we’ll have to get around to discovering one of these days.

But not right now. When we next visit the Re-Listening project, we’ll be hitting peak emo pop 1996.

I asked my lovely bride to bring me some Advil this evening. She was nearer the bottle, and I didn’t want to get up to fetch it. It is one of those countless easy things one person does for another person from time to time.

“What’s hurting?”

Me.

See, I came in and wanted to get in a little bike ride, but I am also trying to be conscientious of not riding all night, because there’s dinner and getting ready for the next day and so on. At the same time, I am now getting into Zwift routes that are a little longer, so they’ll take a few more minutes, but there’s also a weird in-betweenness to them. I did two routes tonight. The first one was 10 miles and change, that’s nothing. But I thought I could get the next one, too. Only, it was about the time of the evening that I wanted to get it done. So I pressed a little bit.

There’s one two-mile climb on that route, and I hate that particular climb.

But I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and got over the thing. I set a new PR and somehow got the polka dots jersey marking the fastest climber on the course at the time. I also got a second polka dot jersey for a second, smaller climb, as you can see on the right hand side of the graphic. (I am not a climber.) I also got a green jersey for the best sprint segment on the course. (I am not a sprinter.) All of this says more about who was riding around me, rather than me.

But I probably should have used better gearing on those climbs. Anyway, that was 75 minutes on the bike, tonight including two Strava PRs. And now my legs are tired.

The 2023 Zwift route tracker 68 routes down, 56 to go.

history / memories / music / photo / Re-Listening / video / Wednesday — Comments Off
15
Feb 23

Did you have “Appalachian murder ballad” on your Bingo card?

I took three photographs today, each one less useful than the last. First, two big wheel cars came down Indiana Avenue. I have seen them both before. You see a lot of cars over and over in your daily routine, of course. Most sensible mid-sized sedans and the ubiquitous SUVs don’t stand out, but when you see the classic land yacht on oversized rims, it stands out. When one of them is purple and gold and celebrates the Los Angeles Lakers, you make a mental note. I saw that car today. He was in front of this guy.

They generate a lot of interest and, it turns out, they have annoyingly interesting horns. I only looked out of the window because it sounded like an animal was dying, over and over. And, thus, the from-the-hip photo.

The next picture was of a daisy someone brought into the building. It seems there was someone outside handing out flowers. If you’ve seen one thoughtless composition of an oversized flower, you’ve seen them all.

Also, this little guy. I’ll let you figure out what it does. I know, but do you? Here’s your hint, we have four of them in the studio.

And, if you cheat and look up those letters, you’ll quickly learn what it is. But it is more fun if you guess.

We have some catching up to do on the Re-Listening project, and so we should dive in while I can still remember the order of things. So two quick ones today, both of which I picked up from a radio station I worked at, probably in early 1997, or the very very end of 1996. I know that because this first one had a stamp in the liner notes. Not for promotional use.

It was The Lemonheads, their last record on the Atlantic Records label. Band members were coming and going around lead singer Evan Dando, including a lot of talented session musicians, and for whatever reason — promotion interest, most likely — it was not as successful as the previous alt rock records from the Massachusetts group. But it has developed a cult following, and that’s the least we can do. This is a great record.

The first track is one of my favorites.

But then there’s the next song, which was the one that got a fair amount of air play.

But you see pretty quickly, I think, how The Lemonheads’ style was being outpaced by what was being offered on radio and MTV. The mid-third of the record gets a bit eclectically moody.

Then, and I still don’t understand why, though I’ve certainly burned brain cells on it, there’s an Appalachian murder ballad in the eighth spot. I knew this song right away.

Let’s take a little detour. This is worth it. This is why I knew that song.

The Louvin Brothers’ version was published in 1956. And in the Tennessee Valley, in the Highland Rim, I heard that around a kitchen table or in a garage, or both. Charlie Louvin, who was born on the other side of the mountains, in the Sequatchie Valley, in the Cumberland Plateau, did a haunting version of it again, 51 years later.

It’s deep in the marrow, is what we’re left with. Knoxville Girl dates to the 1920s, but it’s all borrowed, a version of “The Wexford Girl,” a 19th-century Irish ballad, which owes its origin to a 17th century English ballad, “The Bloody Miller or Hanged I Shall Be.” (Samuel Pepys wrote that one down for all of history.) It may go back even further. I wonder if the three dozen or so bands that have recorded the song in the last several decades knew all of that.

For some reason, and maybe this is why this record has a cult following now, there’s an ode to the movie Se7en. Then another ballad and, finally, more glorious noise rock.

I wish I could give you a count of the number of country roads I sped down listening to that song, or, indeed, the whole record. It would be a substantial amount.

I could not say about this next record, which was another radio station freebie. It had a little airplay. It was not for me, the guy who is referring you to the history of an Appalachian murder ballad, but a girl I liked at the time loved ska, so I picked up Goldfinger’s eponymous, debut, record.

I remember one sunny day, one curve in a particular road, where I caught the punchline in one of these songs. Which, hey, if anyone remembers a joke I’ve done 20-some years on, I’d be pleased, but other than that …

On this listen, this is the only one that I find interesting at all.

I know what is coming up in the next few CDs, I’m going to like those much better. Maybe there will be some stories to tell. Maybe you’ll like them too. The stories, or the music, either one.

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14
Feb 23

A Valentine’s Day serenade

For Valentine’s Day one of the TV shows brought in an a capella group for a quick three-song set. Here’s Another Round‘s big finish.

They told me they have about 30 songs in their current catalog, and that they add about nine songs a semester. Given that they are all students and guys come and go every year, it seems a big task.

The guy singing the lead there is a music education major, but not all of them are in music. Not all of them started singing in church, either, though if you know what you’re listening for you can hear it in some of them.

I think it is because they joined us for a live studio performance tonight, but their touring is starting to take off again now, presumably post-Covid. They’re headed north for a show or two next week, he said.

Turns out there are four a capella groups on campus. (I’ve heard two in that studio.)

Clearly, we need a doo-wop off.

Friday / music / Re-Listening — Comments Off
10
Feb 23

This evening was pre-empted by sleep

Saturday update: There’s the Re-Listening project, but nothing else to report. After work I went to the house and sat down. And then I had dinner. Then I did the dishes. Then I fell asleep and slept for about 12 hours. So this’ll just have to do for Friday.

Sometimes I have been guessing when I picked up a CD. Sometimes I have a specific memory of that, when, how it came to be. I suppose it’ll continue to be like that as we go forward in the Re-Listening project. Paradoxically, there might be more guessing the farther along that we get. (I’ll blame the web for that in due time.) Today, we’re doing a bit of both. There’s something distinctly remembered here … and … yet …

“All For You” was released in January 1997 and I picked up Sister Hazel’s “… Somewhere More Familiar” soon after, when it was released the next month. It’s a happy, jangly pop record. The record went platinum in the U.S., peaking at 47 on the charts. “All for You” is the single you couldn’t avoid that year, and it made it #11 on Billboard’s charts.

I remember driving up U.S. 280 in the early hours of one morning playing and re-playing this track, learning the words to this song.

I remember I stopped at a Chevron for a bathroom break, looked at the newspaper box — remember those? and saw a stunning Birmingham News headline. But, and I’m looking at a quarter-century-old archives to verify this, the rest of that little anecdote is a false memory. The timelines don’t match up. So much for that story.

Anyway, “Happy” was a late-breaking single.

I saw Sister Hazel a few times, small clubs, festivals. Good times. They liked to tell you they were from Gainesville Florida, like their origin story was punctuation.

This always struck me as a sweet song.

Otherwise, after a time, the sound gets a little repetitive. It’s a good time, easy breezy sound, though, and I’m always happy when they came on. I played this CD a lot around my apartment. Upbeat stuff helps with late night work, I guess.

Sister Hazel, another band celebrating the 20th anniversary of a record this year, are still touring. They have nine dates booked this spring. I wonder what members of a band and their crews do with these thoroughly achievable schedules. (There are a few documentaries about touring road crews out there. It seems like a daunting job.)