Tide You Over.

What's up, Bloglets.

It's been a little bit. I've got some entries to post, but first, a couple of links to hold you over until later:

First, take a listen to Weezer covering MGMT's "Kids" and interpolating Lady GaGa's "Pokerface" toward the end. This is love and hate all balled up into one track. The songs are catchy as hell, and they rock the performance, but...really? Three guys on keyboards? This would be fun to see, but I like my Weezer as a guitar rock outfit.

Second, I'd like you to quickly try to make a list of the rock stars you think would be most likely to get in a barroom brawl. Take five minutes, make it a pretty extensive exercise, and come back here. Did you get to Collective Soul & Gavin DeGraw? No one else did, either.

Take Me Home, Country Roads.

I head to West Virginia to work All Good this evening. I probably won't have much time to update from there, but I'll be on Twitter via text pretty consistently. Check the link at the top of the page if you want to see what I'm up to.

This fest has, in contrast, been very laid back. Last night, I had time to watch some Chappelle's Show, and I started my morning with some bad ass blueberry pancakes on the beach while the hippie nation started to wake up around me.

I got a speeding ticket ten miles out of town. I'm not sure if the cop read me or read the car in front of me - as his reading was a few miles off what my speedometer read - but considering I was still going ten over by my reading and that I'm definitely not driving to Ohio to contest a ticket I'd probably lose, I'm going to pay it.

Foolish Young Bastard.

Jess and I went out to the National to see The Heartless Bastards and Jenny Lewis on Friday night. This probably wasn't the best idea - as I had to get up at six in the morning on Saturday to drive out to Ohio to work - but being that the show was the whole reason I didn't go to Ohio on Friday, we went.

It was a nice show for an evening out. The Heartless Bastards went on first and played for 45 minutes or so. The real highlight was "The Mountain" - one of the best tracks of this year that I've pretty much played to death. It's a pedal steel rocker.

Jenny Lewis came on after, and overcame wearing horrible high waisted shorts to play a nice 75 minute set consisting mostly of material from Acid Tongue, her newest disc. Highlights included an Elvis Costello-less "Carpetbagger," "Jack Killed Mom," opening with "The Next Messiah," and the solo acoustic version of the Rilo Kiley banger "Silver Lining." Oh, and me still finding Ms. Lewis attractive despite the shorts. Women: I don't care if high waists have returned to hipness. They don't look good.

Try to Love Someone.

I break beers down into two categories: those that you drink to enjoy the experience of drinking them, and those that you pound cheap twelve packs of an in evening in an effort to get schwasted.

I'd imagine that Kid Rock's new brew sits very solidly in the second category.

Manliness Update:

Despite my affinity for meat and lasers, I just slaved over a hot stove to have dinner ready for when my lady gets home from work, and it was pretty awesome. I'm pretty sure that despite posting our engagement pictures on Facebook and cooking while my fiancee works, my testosterone levels haven't gone down any.

I always wonder if I could pull the stay at home Dad thing off. Jess has already dove head first into a time consuming career, and I'm still treading water (to put it nicely), so if one of us was going to end up staying home with prospective offspring, I'd be a viable candidate. I just don't know if I could do it - I've got a pretty big block against being provided for, and none of my dreams about making a difference somewhere in the world have started at home. There's a pretty good chance I'd enjoy it, but there's an even bigger chance I'd go insane by the third week.

MEAT and LASERS.

There is absolutely no question in my mind that this product is aimed at "men's men." That said, here I am thinking it's funny and posting it. I suppose meat and lasers are the access code to a man's soul.

This is an interesting novelty product, really, aside from the problem of people forgetting your contact information as soon as they've passed it, and being attacked by hungry animals on business outings.

Pretty Mouths.

A sign that your car might be past its prime: when you rent one to make a six hour trip through the mountains because breaking down in West Virginia hasn't been known to be a good idea.

I found a rental for $350. It'll probably be a wagon with a lawnmower engine duct taped to it, but I don't care so long as it gets me to Ohio, to West Virginia, and back home in one piece.

Keepin' It Fresh Like Zip-Locs.

My parents have sold the house in Yorktown - my childhood home now has an expiration date of August 14th. Hopefully I can get back before then - both to say goodbye, and to save any of my stuff that I'd want to keep out of what is still there.

The new place may or may not be ready. As the giant hotel that is perpetually under construction next to my office could tell you, it's difficult to count on deadlines in that industry. My parents might end up apartment hunting before actually moving.

This is a weird feeling. Some of my first memories are playing King of the Mountain with my sister in the dirt while this house was being built. I've known about these plans for years, but even having seen their new one in various stages of construction, I still haven't felt like it's actually happening. I guess I won't have a choice pretty soon.

Wilco (The Review)

Wilco (The Album) came out on Tuesday, and, although I've had the record for two months or so, I feel like I can review it now that it's official. There seem to be are two prevailing opinions amongst Wilco fans about this record: those who are enjoying the sound of a band comfortable with itself, and those who long for the band to return to the experimental sounds of ten years ago.

There are a lot of things that Wilco (The Album) won't do. It's not going to break any musical ground. It's not going to please a lot of the scenester kids that Yankee Hotel Foxtrot brought in. It's not going to rock you too hard. What it will do is give you a set of solid songs by a killer band that will give you a steady supply of material to bob your head to. It may be dad-rock, but it's dad-rock at its finest. This one doesn't have the highs ("You are My Face," "Impossible Germany," "Walken,") of its predecessor, but it also doesn't have the lows ("Shake it Off," "Leave Me Like You Found Me").

Highlights: the George Harrison apeing "You Never Know," Wilco (The Song) - which has gone from seeming like a bad idea to a whimsical highlight, the effortless shifts and turns of "Deeper Down," the mid tempo vibe of "One Wing," the ZZ Top country riffage of "Sonny Feeling," and finally the closer, "Everlasting."

Lowlights: Feist being used on a song as openly lame as "You and I," the pretty-yet-forgettable "Country Disappeared" and "Solitaire," and finally less Nels Cline rockage than on Sky Blue Sky.

This is far from Wilco's best record, and I probably won't go all crazy fanboy and call it the best record of the year (like I did with SBS). It's just a good, enjoyable disc from a band that is still fully fleshing out what this incarnation is capable of.

Around Town.

Sports Illustrated has a story in this week's issue entitled "How Beckham blew it" about the failure of David Beckham to become an American icon in MLS. What I bet they didn't cover is that Americans, by and large, don't care about soccer, and one international star won't solve that. They'd rather buy magazines at drug stores with pictures of Beckham and Posh Spice walking around LA than watch an entire MLS game. Also, I guess it needs to be noted that even my friends who are avid soccer fans think MLS is pretty poor. I feel like those who aren't fans probably think that MLS is some sort of degenerative disease.

This is going to be a tough habit to break on long, boring trips. Luckily for me, there's always messing with my ipod or making phone calls. My question is, if this is such a problem, why are DVD players in the front seats still legal? I'd like to think texting takes less of my attention than attempting to save Private Ryan on I-64.

Another Soccer Thought or Two.

OK - a couple quick thoughts from watching this USA-Brazil match.

1.) It's kind of fun that the ninety minute game takes almost exactly ninety minutes. The lack of clock stoppages is pretty refreshing coming off of the NBA Playoffs.

2.) I take back the boring comment, kind of. It's not the best sport to watch from your couch, but I could see it being fun in a bar with a bunch of rabid fans, slamming pints and screaming at the TV.

3.) The bee-like drone of the fan noise is pretty annoying.

The Honeys Come Flockin.'

Drunk Guy at the Show Last Night: C'mon, man, all you have to do is shake your ass and the honeys will come flocking.
Me: Yeah.
DGatSLN: Except for those Asian girls over there. They're scared, because I talk too much shit.
Me: Well, you can't win 'em all.
DGatSLN: Guess not. You can't fuck 'em all, either.

Red Beans & Rice.

I went to Richmond to see Modern Groove Syndicate last night. It'd been a while since I'd last seen these guys, and this was to be a special reunion featuring keyboard badass Daniel Clarke - who, lately can be found playing on tour with kd Lang and Mandy Moore. Unfortunately, I found out soon after arriving at the bar that this show was going to be without saxophonist JC Kuhl, but the band played on.

Highlights were the expected cover of "Bad" coming out of a killer segue from "Exes and Hos," "Soul Prostitution" and "Bunky Flues" off of last year's Miss Popular, a fierce cover of Radiohead's "National Anthem," and finally how Dan on keys and Trey Pollard on guitar made up for the lack of JC's prominent horn lines.

These guys make me want to make music more than any other band. I love watching them onstage just creating, and loving every second of it.

Futbol.

Caught in the contagious patriotic ferver, I'm watching this USA-Brazil soccer match. The problem is, no amount of patriotic ferver can make up for soccer being inherently boring. It needs something - maybe a smaller field and playable walls a la Arena Football, or more physicality, or bigger goals - but it definitely needs some spark.

I was going to do a live blog of this game, being that it's the "biggest United States soccer game in history," but that title is like awarding "most artistic Nickelback album" - the competition isn't that fierce. Also, I remembered the time I tried to live blog the World Cup final, and hated myself for it. So I'll be here, and I might update if something interesting happens, but this is not a live blog.

On Michael Jackson.

There's a real duality to the passing of Michael Jackson. On one hand, there are people like my boss who view the man as a legend whose passing ranks up there with the losses of Sinatra & George Harrison. On the other, there are people born in the '90s who know him entirely as the weird guy with the reconstructed face who may or may not have had a propensity to touch kids. I - being born in 1983, but being a pop culture late bloomer - sort of sit the fence. Jackson's Jackson 5 work and his solo career through the early 1990s is simply unbelievable, but it's hard to mourn someone who was repeatedly accused of child molestation and made his kids wear masks in public long before swine flu made it cool. So my reaction to his passing yesterday has been to alternate between wistfully watching Youtubes of his greatest moments and chuckling to myself at the long list of Michael Jackson jokes making the rounds.

There're a lot of similarities between Jackson and Elvis. Revolutionary early careers, record breaking sales, and a steep decline caused by excess (plastic surgery and food, respectively) and poor decisions (child molestation and bad movies) capped off by a prescription drug fueled early end.

I guess all that's left to be said is to love the art, not the artist. The good thing about that? The sounds and joy that Michael Jackson's jams brought never did any wrong to anyone. Songs can't die.

Governor Sanford Update:

I nailed the mistress guess.

Creepin.' Now the Gov is apparently trying to tell us all that he was only going to Argentina to end the relationship. I understand how much it sucks to get broken up with over the phone - it's happened to me - but with Google chat and Skype being what they are now, there are ways to be right there without having to be right there.

My advice to this guy? Resign. Hold a big press conference and tell everyone to fuck off that you can possibly think of, and then move to Argentina and start a new life with this mystery lover. You're already a villain in the states - why not?

They Really Do.

South Carolina Governor Sandford didn't take us to Argentina when we met him in 2004.

There seems to be some sketchy shit going on in South Carolina. Skipping out on Father's Day to go on a trip out of the country that no one knows about while your wife thinks you're on the Appalachian Trail and your closest advisors have no idea where you are? Sketchy. This has to be more than wanting to "get out of the bubble I am in."

I could maybe understand the motive behind sneaking off for a hike. You're tired of the bustle, you want to enjoy nature for a bit without Secret Service everywhere, so you get away for a couple days. Flying to a foreign country without anyone knowing probably just means a.) the Gov is the country's new highest profile drug mule or b.) he's harboring a lover/possible illegitimate kids in Argentina, and wanted to get back to them for Father's Day or c.) he heard that South American coffee is better and wanted to try it right then. It's like when Pat told me the new flavors of Mt. Dew were good, and I went to the grocery store that day without telling anyone - only in rich person speak.

If that was too much for you, here's a youtube of a guy warbling along with a Hole song.