obscure Mexican holidays

After a full day of backyard bottle-collecting and re-hydration, I'm more than ready to talk about the best Cinco de Mayo I've ever had. Which maybe isn't the most meaningful way to phrase it since I've never actually done anything extraordinary for this obscure Mexican holiday that we Americans seem to cherish so much.

But still.

Last night began when an old friend of mine from high school in Santa Barbara ended up at the Tractor Tavern in Ballard, Seattle, playing a show on his West Coast tour with his band, Tommy & the High Pilots. The thing about Tommy is that I remember him more as this ever-so-slightly chubby theater geek kid when we were teenagers. 

And now he's hot. And he has groupies. 

I converted two of my friends on the spot. The second Tommy opened his mouth on stage, both of the girls went weak at the knees. They both wept when I told them he'd been dating the same girl for EIGHT YEARS.

This isn't even a good recording, but it's a new song he just wrote about Goleta, my true homeland, and it makes me a little weepy. In a good way. Now go watch their real videos here: http://www.youtube.com/user/thehighpilots?feature=watch

I haven't even gotten to the best part yet.

Since it was Cinco de Mayo and all, I naturally extended some Cinco de Mayo hospitality and invited Tommy and his boys over for some fireside beers in our backyard with a few other friends. And by few, I mean 20-30-ish.

The High Pilots brought the other band they're touring with, A B & the SEA...and they all brought their guitars. Ergo a fireside jam session proceeded into the wee hours of the morning (ooops—sorry, neighbors!). And then I made them scrambled eggs for breakfast in the morning. The end.

Viva la Cinco!

musical girl crush

 

I saw my musical girl crush face-to-face last night!

The few songs I have actually managed to write teensy parts of on the piano are due in large part to Ingrid Michaelson and her quirky, cute, yet I-don't-give-a-$%*# inspiration in my life. 

And thanks to my sweet roommate, Ingrid's Girls and Boys album was also the unofficial soundtrack to my last semester of college.

Lots of build up...blah blah blah. All that to say, last night was dang good.

Highlights:

• Ingrid first walking out on stage to Ke$ha's Blow blasting over the main sound system.
• Her honesty, peculiar and unexpected traits shining through.
• Her improving an entire song about sexually harassing her band members. (See previous point.)
• Getting chills when she sang this song...

faint not

Lately I've been feeling extra weighed down by some evils lurking in our world. I hate being vague on the blog, but until I figure out a way to describe some of this in more detail—while remaining sensitive to those it directly involves—you're gonna get some vagueness. 

I know our world is corrupted by sin, and I'm not just talking about the 'stealing from the cookie jar when you're seven' kind of sin. But bless your heart if that's the most you've ever had to deal with. I'm talking about the wicked and evil darkness kind of sin—the kind that is binding and causes widespread suffering—the kind that makes you want to punch walls and scream, "F%*$ you, Satan!"

Sadly, I can usually push it to the sides of my brain in order to keep my heart joyfully afloat in a world that is literally drowning in this kind of depravity, but every once in a while, when it threatens the joy of people I love, it becomes too personal and painful to ignore.

Sometimes I need a little extra reminding that His love and grace is resting peacefully in the shadows, ready to embrace us when we've simply had enough of the darkness and our souls feel like fainting.

And so today I'm thankful for Jenny & Tyler's song, Faint Not.

the problem’s not a gun, not a color, not a hundred dollar bill
we think the struggle can be won with simple thoughts like 'come together be good willed'
the gap between the rich and poor is spreading out all the more or so they say
we ignore the claims

o my soul, faint not, no
faint not | o my soul, keep up, up
in love

it’s not that we don’t know or we’re not shown the proof of poverty
it’s not that we don’t have the tools to go to break this yoke of slavery
we quit because it’s not an easy fix and then forget that they are even there
we forget to care

o my soul, faint not, no
faint not | o my soul, keep up, up
in love

where there is hatred, let me sow love
where there is injury, let me pardon
where there is darkness, let the Light come, come

o my soul, faint not, no
faint not | o my soul, keep up, up
in love

faint not
faint not

birthday weekend

Also known as...the BEST weekend. 

Gloriously unfiltered birthday sky.

Kel, me and Chels at The Neptune to see Kris Orlowski and Allen Stone.

Kris Orlowski

Chels made me "Better Than Sex" cake. I'm taking her word for it...

First snow of the year in Seattle!

Dawn Mitschele and Noah Gundersen performed with Kris Orlowski.
And oh yeah, Macklemore showed up to play a song with the simply electric Allen Stone. #nobigdeal

guilty pleasure: dance movies

One of my guilty pleasures* in life is watching dance movies. 

Then re-watching them.

Then re-watching just the best dance scenes.

You've heard the saying, "Those who can't do...teach."
Well I've reworked it a tad:

"Those who can't dance...watch."

I may or may not have owned the Step Up trilogy at one point in time.

Yes...trilogy. 

But then they remade Footloose, 

and I fell in love with Kenny Wormald. 

The end.

*Other guilty pleasures include unashamedly repping Katy Perry, drinking wine at home alone on a Friday night w/ 3+ episodes of Friday Night Lights, and trying to reenact Jordin Sparks and Chris Brown's No Air video.

will pay for good music

I've made some great musical purchases lately and wanted to share them with you/encourage you to make the same purchases. I like to think my taste in music isn't too shabby. Some of these I've highlighted on my song-a-day Tumblr...but only hearing one song from any one of these artists will not do your life justice. 

Paying for good music that will define your days is never a bad thing. 

Treat yo self.

Coldplay — Mylo Xyloto 
Chris Martin with that open-face piano. Just enjoy it.
 

M83 — Hurry Up We're Dreaming 
Your head might spin...but in a great way. 
This album is slowly becoming somewhat of an obsession.  

Allen Stone — Allen Stone 
Homeboy can siiinnng. And he's performing on Conan!   
Gungor — Ghosts Upon the Earth 
Lead singer Michael Gungor sums it up best: 
“Musically, it’s kind of odd. We rock pretty hard, 
then we pull out the banjo and sit around and cry together.”  
Neulore — Apples & Eve 
Their first album as a whole tells the heart-wrenching story of the "fractured space between the original man and woman," written from Adam's perspective to Eve.  
And one that I'm quite thrilled to purchase on its quickly approaching release date of November 1...
Florence + The Machine — Ceremonials

music is mood

Image print

Thought I'd finally share this now that it has a good five pages under its belt.

I've kind of been cheating on you all. 

I have a second blog. 

But don't worry, I don't spend near as much time with it as I do with you all.

It's called...

Music is Mood

It's a simple song-a-day Tumblr for those of you who crave a place where you (hopefully) don't have to spend hours sifting and searching through countless tunes to find a solid one that you'll love.

Like it says... "A good song a day keeps the mean reds away." Thanks, Holly Golightly.

things I learned from Bumbershoot 2011

Well friends, I am Bumber-shot.

After three 12-hour days of absolute over-stimulation of the senses, I know what Labor Day weekend in Seattle is supposed to look like. And it looks goooooood.

Here's a mashed up and eclectic sampler of what I heard and saw...and learned.

1. You can wear (or not wear) anything to a music festival. Especially if it's over 80 degrees out. This includes SpiritHoods...which are stupid.
2. Phantogram live is my new favorite drug of choice. Since I did so many other drugs before this.
3. Light sabers & unicorn heads on sticks...both appropriate ways to show your favorite artists some love on stage. 
4. Some days, you've gotta dance.
5. Other days, you've gotta rally like no other just to make it through to the end of The Kills' set, which I was sadly less than impressed by.
6. You probably could have made it into Bumbershoot with an already-used ticket because the iPhone apps they were using to scan got overloaded and stopped working pretty early on. #vendorsecrets
7. Lighting a blunt while shoving through a crowd of dancing people is kind of dangerous. (I was only observing, Mom.)
8. Charles Bradley, oft-referred to as "The Screaming Eagle of Soul" for good reason, is 63 years old, and a baller.
9. Lil Drag is crazy good. Note the head scarf. Which was kept like that the entire performance.



Photo by Dave Lichterman

10. Wiz Khalifa. Really, Seattle?
11. I converted some people to Allen Stone Sunday night. He's the cutest. White boy's got soul! This may sound a tad weird, but usually I get distracted by however musicians are dancing/moving with their feet, but I look at Allen, and I want whatever his hands are on.
12. A lot more women than I thought don't shave their legs in Seattle.
13. There were about 30 instances where I had to bite my lip to keep from obnoxiously over-stating, "Gaahh, I am sooooo Seattle right now."
14. Jake, Kori and Moses are the sweetest. They own and create Flipside Hats, which we helped out during some of the festival.
15. Hall & Oates still have it. Well, at least Daryl does...not sure why John-the-back-up-singer has been kept on for so long...
16. I don't trust myself with my good camera at a place like Bumbershoot, so pardon the cell phone photos:

The Fountain Lawn stage

Over the Rhine beneath the Space Needle.

"She's a maneater..."

when the going gets tough...

I mentioned pulling out the hard-hitters later this week...and here they are. In all of their fiercely aggressive glory.
A lot of collabs, a lot of dancy-dance mixes, remixes and cake mixes.
These are the songs whose bass lines will lift your feet as you run and increase your speed by 22%, which is also my favorite number.
And yes, Katy Perry did make it onto both running mixes.

(If you're viewing this in Google Reader, click here for the music player.)

 

I've been referring to it as "Bumbershoot Weekend" for so long that I almost forgot it was none other than Labor Day weekend as well! If you're not joining me at Bumbershoot, I hope you all have the best 3-day weekend...maybe ever. 

Go on a run. 

To this playlist.

run it out

While I have always had a touch-and-go relationship with running, I realized last year that I could actually do it semi-successfully if I stuck with it. Still, recreational running is kinnnnd of nuts to me. I don't know that I'll ever love love love running just for the hey of it, but I recognize that there are plenty of people who do—so may the Lord bless their outrageous insanity.

And running without music? Gasp. I tried it for a bit because a friend told me that's when she "gets all her thinking done." Except that I can barely breathe when I run, let alone think. So I recharged my iPod and vowed never to experiment with silence again. 

With that said, I typically have two go-to running playlists:
1. One that I'm proud of.
2. And one that I'm not.

Today you get the good one. Talented artists who pull out interesting and intricate pieces of music that keep me company while sweating. Good company. That's all I ask. Later this week I'll give you the harder-hitting, semi-inappropriate and more aggressive playlist. Fun. 

(If you're viewing this in Google Reader, click here for the music player.)

M83—Midnight City ... Dear M83, It's been a while—"like three whole years" a while. I cannot wait til you play at Neumo's in November.

Ellie Goulding—Starry Eyed ... Dreamy-voiced British artist who lands somewhere between electro-pop and indie folk. Mmmm mmmm yes.

The Black Keys—Ohio ... Just two guys, a couple of guitars, and the best American blues-rock my ears have ever been blessed with.

Hot Bodies in Motion—Physics ... Their music is tough and loose, and with a name that sounds like pure sex, you know great things await you. Also, if you blog about them, their lead singer might buy you a drink two months later. 

The Stone Foxes—Psycho ... Bluesy California rock that Jack White would be proud of. And sometimes I shout along mid-run. Also, they did a bang-up cover of I'm a King Bee that was featured in the national ad campaign for Jack Daniel's Tennessee Honey. Kind of cool?

The Belle Brigade—Where Not to Look for Freedom ... Peppy brother-sister duo who do not let their musical vitality waiver. Ever.

TV Girl—Baby You Were There ... A little bit Motown, a little bit indie-pop, but this newer duo's unique and catchy hit has not-so-pop-happy lyrics if you listen closely. Also, you can download their four-song EP for free on their Facebook page.

Mister Heavenly—Bronx Sniper ... Three and a half minutes of fist-pumping rock. A newer-to-me band, but they seem like capable songwriters, and I'm interested to hear more from them in the future.

Little Dragon—Ritual Union ... I gravitate toward Swedish things. Little Dragon is no exception. And they're at Bumbershoot in Seattle this weekend. Holla.

Katy Perry—Teenage Dream (Manhattan Clique Remix) ... Yes, Katy made it onto the good list. I love her.

Maroon Five—Moves Like Jagger ... This is the only song on this list that I'm embarrassed by. I think Adam Levine is creepy, and the lyrics are horrendous. Why is it sooooooo catchy.

Young the Giant—My Body ... No, performing at the VMA's is not selling out. It's winning. 

Florence + The Machines—What the Water Gave Me ... Magical. Soulful. Transcendental in the sense that I sometimes feel like I'm having an out-of-body experience when I listen to this song. Which is great while running.

Mat Kearney—Ships in the Night ... I wanted to marry him in college. He's taken now. But this song off his newest album contains the classic Mat Kearney beat pumps that his fans love.

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals—Paris (Oh La La) ... The diva of the indie-rock world, in my opinion. The girl is gorgeous. And the girl can sing.

If you missed it, I guest blogged earlier this week at the incredible Moorea-Seal.com. I ramble on about made-up spiritual gifts, and why making mix CDs and playlists falls under that category. Also, I say nice things about having a healthy self-image. 

Check. It. Out.

teenage dream

Hung out with Katy last week.

What have you guys been up to?

☺

The Way Much

A dear friend of mine—Geoff—is in a radically hope-charged and talented folk/acoustic band called The Way Much. They're on a crazy, whirlwind tour of the States right now. 

Being the sweetheart of a guy that he is, Geoff sent me a thoughtful text from the town of Madeline, CA, and that's when I found out they'd be in Seattle that next week. 

This begged an obvious question: 

Play at my house?!?

They said yes.

 

 

They are such good people.

It might not get any better than a summer backyard concert in Seattle.
Thank you for letting us be a stop on your journey.
All the best, to The Way Much.

•••••••••••••••••••••

The following cell phone video footage is from another Seattle house show, but it gives a small taste...

Turn Around...

Did I create this flowchart masterpiece? No. She did.

Do I wish I had? More than anything.

Please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks this is kind of genius...?

Also, this might be the best literal video version of a song I've ever seen.

Shout out to Sarah with this one. 

Allen Stone @ The Crocodile

Friday night Allen Stone unlocked it. He hits notes as high as heaven and moves around the stage like he owns it. Which he does. 

If you're gonna be lame and "not have time" to watch this whole video, then skip to the 4:00 minute mark to see sexy manifest itself in a voice. Step back, Marvin Gaye, people will be making love to this album from now on. 

(Too far, Mom...?)

Check out some of his other live stuff and kick ass covers...a little Bob, a little Roberta...

P.S. Also pretty sure there were people in the crowd shouting a little of this...

Fremont Fair

I'm about a week (two?) late in posting these photos, but they warrant some blog love, so here is my day spent day-drinking, Thai-food eating, Hot Bodies-watching and Solstice-celebrating at the overtly ridiculous 40th-Annual Fremont Fair.

 

 

If I could make love to a voice, I choose his.

Papa Smurf like.

Britta the hand model.

Kris Orlowski (love!) and the lovely Allie (not yet tipsy) perfecting her 'candid clap.'

the civil wars @ the triple door

The Civil Wars // Part 1 from The Parlor on Vimeo.

She is sultry, flirtatious, and oh-so-coy—whimsically floating her arms about in dance-like waves as if each melody was being suspended out from her fingertips, delicately flung to the corners of the audience.
He is stoic, almost brooding, with no affect, but he smirks with his lips and eyes as she playfully fingers a curl of his shoulder-length Johnny Depp hair.
And then their harmonies pour into each other like honey and maple syrup as their audience tries not to blink. 
Yet they're both married to two different people.


Some say they must be secretly in love to portray such passionate and tangible chemistry, both physically and in their song-writing. 
Either that, or they're just two damn good actors who got lucky.


It doesn't really matter. I saw them Thursday night and would see them again tomorrow night if I could. Tonight even. 
Buy a ticket to their show nearest you. 
And hurrrrrrrrrrry, before the rest of the world finds out about the best kept secret in musical duos.

shades and nuances and all things that sound beautiful

I'm laying in bed with huge noise-cancelling headphones on that my dad bought me, emotionally tripping out to Bon Iver's...Bon Iver. That self-titled stuff always gets me. 

GO HERE:

http://www.npr.org/player/v2/mediaPlayer.html?action=1&t=1&islist=false&id=136855313&m=136831439

To say the first listen through is therapeutic is an understatement. If every human on this earth was given a copy of this album (along with a pair of AKG's), world peace just might occur. 

It's nuanced in a way that's almost oxymoronic. Gentle, yet powerful. Singular, plural. Tears of joy and frustrated laughter. K I'm done pretending I work for Pitchfork.

I can't wait to see the Tiny Desk concerts and Take Away concerts that come from this sophomore album. The only heart-wrenching thing is, he's not touring anywhere near Washington this year. Sooooo...guess I get to fly to London to see him. Who's with me?

an agressive quota

Last week I submitted a chunk of the piece I've been working on for the CNF class I'm taking through Stanford. My professor ripped it to shreds. A few tears were shed, but then I admitted to him that his one-page critique did more for me than 3+ years of counseling ever had. But still—when you've poured so much of yourself into your art and truly been honest with what you've created, the last thing you want is for someone to straight up reject it. I reminded myself that I signed up for this class specifically wanting out of my Christian liberal arts circle, full of its assumptions and naiveté. I wanted fresh eyes to read me—someone who didn't have any preconceived ideas when I put the word "I" down on paper.

So I scrapped that project.

And now I have ≈15 pages due on Saturday that I'm hoping will appear in a big unmarked box on my doorstep, preferably in Helvetica.

A lot of being in a creative rut is the consequence of faithfully sticking to 'tried and true' methods that no longer take into consideration how you (or the world) have been refashioned over the years. We have to be patient with ourselves...and not punish ourselves. And big ruts often just require new ideas...which means giving ourselves an "aggressive quota."
I know of a choreographer who has an exercise where she instructs her students to find a simple object (a chair, for example) and come up with 60 new uses for it in a limited amount of time. This forces them not to panic, but rather to focus, which means they have to suspend critical thinking. When our internal critic is on hold, everything can be let out and we aren't "choking off the good impulses," as she puts it.
Usually we'll find that the most inspired and unorthodox ideas come toward the 60th idea...not at the beginning when we're only stating the obvious.

So I sat in Zoka for four hours on Saturday and came up with 41 things I could write about. And what an eclectic and embarrassing list that was.
More and more I'm realizing that nothing is original and everything is inspired by something, so artists are really just creative [and sometimes overly emotional] thieves. 
Which brings me to the comic relief portion of this post, and my case in point—Robyn, 'stealing' from Teddybears, who 'stole' from Kid Rock (who should never have been given free reign over a microphone in the first place):

See what I mean? Paintball on set was for sure toward #60 on her list. Love that girl though.

P.S. If anyone is dying to give me a Sunday ticket to Sasquatch, I can make sure you won't regret it...