It gets even better. And weirder. Or something.

The Hubster gave me Dr. Horrible's Sing-a-long Blog on DVD for my birthday at the beginning of the month. Although I'd watched it a number of times on Hulu, and had even downloaded the soundtrack from Amazon, Monkeyboy had never seen it or heard it. The day I got the DVD, though, I opened it right away and we all watched it. Quite the family entertainment, no?


Monkeyboy is obsessed.

He's watched the DVD repeatedly, which has led to some very interesting discussions about the moral complexities of the Dr. Horrible story. (As most preschoolers probably would, he missed the point and tends to root for Captain Hammer.) The soundtrack is almost the only thing he wants to listen to in the car. He's asked me to clarify lyrics for him when he can't understand them and has even asked me to explain the meaning of some for him: "What's it mean, 'catch your breath'?"

Once he memorized the lyrics and could sing all of the songs, he started ordering me to "sing the girl parts." Which I do with gusto because, hey, there's nothing weird about harmonizing with your toddler. Even when it's a song from a Sci Fi musical about an evil scientist trying to rule the world/get the girl. Right?



Skip ahead to 1:45 (if you're not interested in watching the whole thing) to see the best part of the duet, where each person sings different lyrics at the same time (is there a musical term for that technique?). Now, imagine me doing it with my three-year-old son -- sternly directed by him, I might add -- in the car as we drive to daycare. The first time the Hubster heard us do it, he gaped open-mouthed at us.

Where my sick sense of humor, eclectic taste in music and poor judgement collide

I love music. Before I had children, I regularly went to hear live music and I still go when I can fit it in. I'm obsessed with my iPod. Making iPod playlists has replaced my old-school obsession for making mix CDs (which replaced my older-school obsession with making mix tapes). This summer, I got Monk a pair of children's headphones so he can listen to his own playlists (of songs he's chosen himself) on my iPod. The Hubster and I are always singing around the house, and to the kids, especially if a lyric fits the occasion. The other day found me singing to Goose, "Mama said there'll be days like this. There'll be days like this, my mama said. (Mama said, Mama said.)"

When Monk hears a song he likes, he always asks, "What's it called?" and when it ends, he asks to hear it again. (Often again and again and...) Once, when he was about two years old, Monk asked Hub that very question about a Tool song (Disclaimer, re: the Tool song: I was not in the car at the time) and when told the title responded, "I love it! It's noise!"

As you can tell, the Hubster and I rarely censor our music choices around our kids. Until recently, they really didn't pay that much attention to the lyrics, so we didn't have to. This summer, however, a serious misstep on my part resulted in my 3 year old singing Salt n' Pepa's "None of your Business," so we're we now giving it some thought. (I'm grateful he didn't understand most of the words and has made up gibberish to substitute for the lyrics to everything except the exclamation "It's none of your bidness!")

However, there are still a wide range of songs which it's appropriate -- or at least, mostly appropriate -- for my kids to hear. Over the last few months, Monkeyboy has made a commitment to memorizing the lyrics of the ones he likes so he can sing along. I admit that with this development, I've started feeding him songs that I want to hear him sing. This has resulted in what are some of the funniest moments with this kid so far.

There isn't much that's more more bizarrely hilarious than a three-year-old belting out, "Laundry day. See you there. Under things. Tumbling." in the grocery store checkout line.

Or when we walk into daycare, singing, "Black coat, white shoes, black hat, Cadillac... the boy's a time bomb!" to his teacher.

Or playing in his sandbox by himself, singing, "Oh, woman, oh, woman, why you treat me so mean? You're the meanest old woman that I ever seen..." under his breath.

Or recently -- and this one probably takes the proverbial cake when it comes to bad judgment on the parents' part -- at the mall, singing, " 'Booze! Booze!' The firemen cried, as they came knocking at the door." (This last one was damn hard to find anywhere on the Interweb. I also liked this rendition.**)

But, all joking aside, if this kid can't get a date in high school? I'll have to take at least part of the blame.


**The really weird thing? The more I watch it, the more I think I might have actually been there in real life for this one. The web is a strange place/six degrees of separation/it's a small word after all/etc. MacIntyre!

Zac Brown Band

Ever have this happen? You're somewhere that music is playing and find yourself singing along to a song, which is at the same time familiar and unfamiliar. Last night after doing some shopping, we stopped at a fast food restaurant to grab a quick bite to eat. As we were getting the kids situated, I found myself absentmindedly singing along to "Chicken Fried." After a few moments, I stopped and thought "Wait... what the hell is this song and why do I know it?" All at once it came to me and I recalled my top Rock Boat 7 moment.

The Zac Brown Band was one of the bands on the Rock Boat in January 2007. Late one night -- probably around 2 a.m. -- I was alone on an elevator when it stopped to admit Zac Brown. As the doors slid closed, he turned to me and said, in his Georgia drawl with a smile on his face, "I've got a bottle of wine in my pocket."

He did. In the pocket of his loose fitting jeans he had a full-sized wine bottle. It probably goes without saying that a Caribbean cruise based on the theme of indie music with dozens of bands in attendance involved a fairly heavy amount of liquid refreshment. And it's safe to assume that both Zac Brown and I had each, separately, indulged a great deal that evening. So the incongruity of a bottle of wine jammed into the pocket of someone's jeans was damned near hilarious.

He said it again, more, I believe, because he found it amusing than out of concern that I hadn't heard him. "I've got a bottle of wine in my pocket."

At which point I said, "You certainly do." There didn't seem to be anything more to say. We both leaned against our sides of the elevator (you know... holding the walls up) until the elevator stopped and we got off, going our separate ways.

I liked the Zac Brown Band when I first heard them on the compilation CD of the cruise line up. The ZBB song on that mix was "Where the Boat Leaves From,"* which seemed to be an appropriate anthem for the cruise and today remains one of my all time favorite songs. On the boat, I made sure I saw a ZBB show and was impressed enough that I bought their CD Home Grown. My favorite from that is probably "Whatever It Is."

They don't seem to often play out of the Deep South, but from the looks of it they're on a pretty wide-ranging tour this spring and summer. If they come to your neighborhood, check them out.


*This version seems to be slightly different from the one we got on our sampler CD.

Up all night, sleep all day (the second part I only wish)

In which the Soundtrack of my Life is a hard rock album.

When, in the middle of the night, the Monkeyboy summons me into his room and says, "I wanna rock,"* he's not talking about an 80s heavy metal anthem. It means he's getting sick, which is the only time he wants cuddling. And that he wants me to rock him in the glider and sing to him. Until the end of time. And therefore I will be getting no sleep.

Ugh. As a baby this kid was a terrible sleeper and even now? The song remains the same.

Mele Kalikimaka

As an unabashed Parrothead, let me wish Jimmy Buffett a happy 62nd birthday.

Happy Festivus!

Everyone's waiting and anticipating
'Cause Christmas is two days away
Last minute shopping and traffic ain't stopping
Old lady, get out of my way
Yes, that's the spirit, yet Santa can't hear it
Stuck in his shopping mall hell
Sneaking a shot while he's still on the clock
He stood up and laughed 'til he fell

'Cause it won't be Christmas this year 'til we've all turned black and blue
But it's well worth the wear and the tear to spend Christmas with you

~ Chris Trapper, "Black and Blue Christmas," It's Christmas Time (2007)

May your feats of strength and airing of grievances be... well, festive this holiday season.

Christmas in July

This past summer at my nephew’s high school graduation party, I loaned him my iPod to hook up to his stereo when his music choices for the function were deemed egregiously inappropriate for the gathering (I’m guessing it was the obscenity-laced gangsta rap lyrics that pushed my brother-in-law to pull the plug). Apparently, my nephew just put my whole iPod on shuffle, as after about an hour I had to approach him to suggest he might want to monitor the music a little better.

Me: Because right now we’re listening to Don Henley sing “Please Come Home for Christmas.”

Nephew (scrolling in an attempt to find what he thinks of as middle-aged-people-friendly music): Thanks.

Me: You know, there are over 2000 CDs on there. Lots of stuff to pick from.

Nephew (settling on Red Hot Chili Peppers): This is fine. As long as it isn’t Jethro Tull. Or Christmas music.

Me: Well, ironically enough, I have a Jethro Tull Christmas album on there.

Musical Interlude

I've been so busy, so tired, and life has been so routinely not-noteworthy lately. The early days with a newborn make me feel like I've been deep sea diving; things are often dim and sound muffled and only very slowly can I rise to the surface, lest I get the bends. But real life is starting to draw me back. The Duck is sleeping well at night (in the last week, he's pulled 6-, 8- and 7-hour stretches in that order) which makes me feel more human. During the day, however, he doesn't sleep well and wants to nurse often. I can only assume this is the trade off for the night payout, so thus far I'm willing to accommodate him.

In place of a real post, I offer my new favorite song. I was never a Jason Mraz fan, probably because I was really only familiar with the song "The Remedy" and it just didn't grab me. However, I heard an interview with him on NPR a couple of months ago and then caught "I'm Yours" on Sirius's Coffeehouse station and was hooked. The Monkeyboy particularly loves this video, which contains waterfalls, the ocean, surfing and skateboarding. What's not for a toddler to love?

Float

Flogging Molly's new CD came out yesterday. Yay!

And I'm just too tired to write anything else about it. Boo.

Chris Trapper

I'm excited to report that Chris Trapper, who canceled the show scheduled for October, has scheduled another for just before Christmas. And apparently he's recorded a Christmas CD, so he'll be playing some of it at the show.

I'm actually looking forward to the Christmas music, since I'm a big (nerdy) fan of Christmas tunes. What I hope, however, is that he's still willing to play the non-Christmas requests that he allows fans to make via his website. My requests will probably include "Forget Me," from his most recent solo CD, Hey You, and a few favorites from his Push Stars days, maybe "Waiting, Watching, Wishing" or "Sofkuri's Room" (sorry, no sample available).

Éste no es el sitio para usted

If you've landed here looking for the lyrics to Scott Blasey's song "San Antonio," I apologize. I've learned through StatCounter that a surprising number of people have come here looking for just that ("lyrics San Antonio Scott Blasey," although not as many as landed here searching for "6dpo" or "Dar Williams setlist"). I did a google search myself to see what was going on and I was surprised to discover that I come up on the first search page because I have the song listed in my most recent playlist on the sidebar.

Again, I apologize. I don't have the lyrics. He has a website. It's www.(hisname).com. Email him. His email is scott@(hisname).com. (I'm not linking to it or writing it out because I don't want him to find out I gave it to you! If you're not smart enough to decipher the "secret code," well then... cough cough... I don't know what to say). But, seriously; he's a chatty guy, he's actually very friendly, and he will probably write you back.

And if this is your question, as far as I can tell the line is "Es la chica para usted," which means "she is the girl for you," but I could be wrong. I failed eleventh grade Spanish, after all.

I have tried to like Wilco

I got an email newsletter recently from one of the many local music venues informing me that Wilco is coming to do a show and I can't miss it. They seem like an obvious fit for me. I have eclectic taste. I like lots of indie artists. I like the Folk scene. I like Alt-Country. I listen to Ryan Adams, Whiskeytown, Old 97's, Rhett Miller, etc, etc. Why not Wilco?

I memoed Wilco on Sirius many months ago, so I could familiarize myself with them and maybe pick an album or two to get. Maybe the issue is that Sirius tends to get stuck in a groove and then will play only the same one or two songs of certain artists. (I took the Indigo Girls off memo because all Sirius ever played was "Galileo.") But none of the Wilco songs I heard struck me. Not stayed with me. I was underwhelmed.

Then last night on an episode of The Bionic Woman, the soundtrack included the song "What Light," which I immediately identified. I liked it a lot better as the backdrop for the scene than I had the times I've heard it on the radio. So now I'm wondering if I could come to like Wilco.

Can We Talk About the Didgeridoo?

If you've been paying attention, you may have noticed that I updated my Current iPod Playlist in the Sidebar. When I whipped together this playlist, I added Dar Williams' "As Cool As I Am," but didn't stop to wonder whether I should add the live version from Out There Live or the studio version from Mortal City. The Hubster and I picked up Mortal City when we saw her live last month, and I've only had a chance to listen to it once.

So today as the Monkeyboy and I were making a shopping trip (cut short by his crabbiness due to a cold), I listened to my new playlist. The version that made the list was the studio version and I have to say that I prefer the live version. (In fact, I find I prefer the live version of many of her songs, probably because she's got that acoustic/singer-songwriter thing going). The studio version is more up-tempo and I feel that causes the lyrics to lose some of their "reflective" mood. But the true deal breaker for me was the didgeridoo.

Dar Williams – As Cool As I Am

I remember now when the Hubster and I played the CD on the way home from the show that we both exclaimed in surprise when we heard it. We were intrigued. In fact, although we laughed about it, we decided we were impressed that someone could effectively use one in an American folk song.

But now as I listen to it again, I just find it distracting. (It sounds a lot louder in my car than it does on that embeded version). It doesn't mean that I dislike it; it just means that I prefer the version that's just Dar and the guitar.*

*And yes, I know that rhymes. Not intentional.

Edited to correct: Upon a comparison listening of the two songs (not basing my opinion on just my memory), I realize that the version on Out There Live is also an up-tempo version with more instruments than just an acoustic guitar (no didgeridoo, though). And now I'm torn between the two versions. I don't know if my memory of an acoustic version was based on seeing her live this summer, or what. Blame it on pregnancy brain...

My List, Revisited

You know My List?

Well, it turns out that John Corbett has a band. The John Corbett Band. And they tour. And they're coming to a city near me. Tomorrow.

Frieda and I are going to go.

Dar Williams

Last night Dar Williams played a free concert at a nearby outdoor amphitheater. Since it was a nice family-friendly venue, we decided to go and take the Monkeyboy (to save the money we'd have paid a babysitter). Also, it would be his first concert and I thought it was a good choice of artist, venue and crowd for that.

The show was excellent, and though the turn out was good, it wasn't crowded. Many people brought children or dogs (or children and dogs), and everyone had food and drink. The Hubster was disappointed that he hadn't brought any beer, since although it was not technically permitted, everyone had alcohol, some even had wine in wineglasses. The crowd was mellow, so security didn't seem to care.

On the drive there, we debated what we thought she'd play and what we hoped she'd play. the Hubster said he was sure she's play The Babysitter's Here and The Christians and the Pagans. I agreed, and she did. He wanted to hear Spring Street and Iowa and he did (Iowa was the encore). I wanted to hear As Cool As I Am (yes!) and What Do You Hear in These Sounds (no --bummer). One newer song I hadn't heard (we haven't bought her new album yet) was Teen for God. She also played the Mercy of the Fallen and Are you Out There. This is by far not a complete set list; I can't remember everything she played.

There was a group of women and children up front that screamed and danced and had a great time, which Dar seemed to enjoy. When she discussed her DVD, she said it made her aware that she talks a lot during her sets, maybe too much, but the yelling and clapping that followed that statement showed that the crowd didn't agree. When that happened she laughed and thanked everyone for the sentiment.

Although the show didn't even start until the Monkeyboy's bedtime, he was a trooper throughout. He enjoyed himself, had some snacks, met some dogs and did some dancing, even if he didn't pay too much attention to Dar herself.

The crowd was nice, clean and polite. And although we left quickly when it ended, I bet there wasn't any litter.

Warped Tour

Yesterday (as part of my Big Birthday Celebration), the Hubster and I went to the Warped Tour. My main motivation was to see Bad Religion and Flogging Molly, although there were some other bands I wanted to check out, too. We were supposed to have been accompanied by Frieda and Beamer & OldChristine, but all three bailed the night before (which was rude).

It was a record-setting high temperature of a day (91), humidity at 75-90%, forecast with isolated thunderstorms. Although the doors opened at 11:00, we didn't arrive until almost 1:00 due to a late wake-up and terrible traffic.

It wasn't as crowded as I expected it to be, but the crowd demographics were what I thought they'd be: mostly teens and twenties, with some thirties, forties and even older people scattered throughout. We were by far not the oldest people there, but we were on the upper end of the spectrum.

As were were orienting ourselves to the layout, we passed on of the smaller stages on which Lourds was playing. I'd never seen or heard of them before, but the few songs I heard left me impressed and curious enough to buy their CD. I'm also always looking for new women in music.

We had a beer and wandered around, but made sure to hear Tiger Army play mid-afternoon. My favorite thing about them (in addition to the music) was that they had an electric-blue upright bass. Unexpected. It started to lightly rain during their set, but as the weather had been hot, sunny and humid it was a welcome change. Afterwards, the days remained mostly overcast which sort of took the edge off.

I was interested in hearing Meg and Dia (who I ended up being unimpressed by), so we got an ice cream cone (to beat the heat) and went to sit at the main pavilion which was set up as both the Smart Punk stage and the Hurley.com stage. I was exhausted, so I leaned back in my seat, closed my eyes and drifted off for a bit. It's amazing that I could take a nap in an uncomfortable stadium style seat, in 90-degree heat, during a punk show, but it's a skill I honed during my years of college, ebing able to nap just about anywhere. The band that played while I "napped" (I was still sort-of aware of what was going on) I found out later was called Static Lullaby. I thought it was very fitting, because that's what it was. Lots of distortion and unintelligible lyrics, which I tried to sleep through.

Following Static Lullaby was Boys Like Girls, who I was also unfamiliar with, but had clear expectations based on all the cute, clean-cut teenage girls wearing their t-shirts. They were entertaining, if not unique, and had a pop sound.

Hawthorne Heights was finishing up their set as we made our way towards the Lucky stage to hear the big hitters of the late afternoon. Paramour followed them, playing on the next stage over. I liked them and think I maybe should've picked up a CD (in my quest for women rockers). Coheed and Cambria I didn't enjoy as much as I thought I would, although they are talented.

Two of the later bands of the day were who we came to see. Bad Religion played an awesome set and made the whole day well worth the trip. They're so earnest in their lyrics, so political. The Hubster commented that he gestures like he's having a conversation with you as he sings. I was disappointed that they didn't play Los Angeles is Burning (my favorite), but all their material is great. What other band could use "transubstantiation" in their lyrics and have it flow very naturally?

Flogging Molly followed Bad Religion on the same stage. They were also very good (I've seen them before). One disappointment is that they chose to play two of their new, unreleased songs. Normally I don't mind -- and even welcome -- hearing new material, but in a festival environment when a band only plays a half-hour set, they should stick to what people want. Playing a new songs means there's something I was hoping hear didn't get played. I can allow for one, but two?

As for mosh pits and the like, there was nothing too large or amazing, although people moshed and crowd-surfed at all the major sets. The biggest asshole of the day award goes to the guy who got up to crowd surf with a lighted cigarette in his hand. If I was up there, I'd have dropped him on his head.

On that note, there's one more thing I must comment on. I've never been to any sort of venue, festival or otherwise, where I have seen so much littering and general disregard for the common good. In addition to bottles, cups and food wrappers strewn about, people seemed to deliberately find stuff to turn into litter (the Krishnas were handing out free books on "enlightenment" and I saw a few that had been shredded and thrown on the ground). Also, there were groups of immature teenage and twenty-something boys who threw bottles and things into the crowd and mosh pits, for the purpose of just generally stirring the pot. During one set, apparently a guy in a mosh pit deliberately threw an entire beer at a girl. I can't remember the band, but the lead singer pointed him out as security came to drag the guy away. My solution to all this: The idiots running the "Anarchy" booth should have to clean up the grounds the next day.

It was a great (if draining) day. We capped it off by a late showing of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix.

Still Rippin'

Ripping our CD collection to put on our iPods is almost a full time job. And just when I feel like I've made some headway... Two trips to Half Price Books equals fourteen new CDs.

We also have decided to rip some of our audiobooks for our upcoming vacation. We're developing quite a collection that we usually save for long roadtrips. First up: Lisey's Story by Stephen King. Neither the Hubster or I have read the book so we decided it was perfect for our upcoming vacation. The wonderful thing about Stephen King's audiobooks is that they're unabridged. The only audiobooks that I am willing to buy that are abridged are Bill Bryson's stuff, because some of it doesn't come unabridged and he's just so damn entertaining.

We leave tomorrow for two nights/three days at our friends' lake house and then return home for a frenzy of laundry and repacking to leave the next pre-dawn morning for the Outer Banks. So, a blogging hiatus of sorts is about to commence. Back in August!

Saturday Night Freak Show

I had a little breakdown earlier tonight and just had to get out of the house and be alone. Where to go on a Saturday night when you're alone and broke and it's already 8:00?

Why, Half Price Books, of course.

Who's at Half Price Books at 9:00 on a Saturday Night? (Other than me, obviously). Guys in their twenties who still live with their moms and shop with them at Half Price Books on a Saturday night. Weird, bearded older men who wander around with cups of coffee and stare at women, but don't really seem to be shopping for books. Gaunt, stiffly-dressed older men who scour the clearance books in the back and make a list (about what?) on a little piece of paper. Well-dressed women who don't look like they've had their hair styled (or even brushed) in months. Sheltered teenage girls who consult their mothers on every purchase they're considering making.

Where do I fit into this Freak Show? I was excited to find a CD of the West Side Story Soundtrack in the clearance section for $2.00. And I listened to it on the drive home. 'Nuff said.

Slaid Cleaves

The Hubster and I went to see Slaid Cleaves last night. It was by far the most fun I've had in a long time.

It was a casual sort of show at the local Club which attracts those indie artists and D-list musicians that I like so much. I've been there countless times, so I felt pretty good assuring The Hubster that it wouldn't be too crowded, that we didn't need to get tickets ahead of time or get there too early to get a table. I didn't think that that he'd be that big a draw in this area.

Boy was I wrong.

The place was jammed when we got there a half hour before show time (and only a half hour after the doors opened). We ended up standing. The crowd was a very diverse group, by age and appearance, but everyone was looking like they were anticipating a good show. No one looked like they were unfamiliar with Cleaves and had just wandered in to check him out.

Cleaves and his band were fantastic. First of all, I just love his voice. He started his set with some of his own choices, like "Flowered Dresses," but soon played only requests from the audience. He played "Breakfast in Hell," after commenting that they have a policy that they'll only play it if it's requested by three different people who all use the correct song title (I wonder what people call it? Maybe Sandy Gray?).

When "Lydia" was requested immediately after, he asked the crowd, "Do you all really want to hear two workplace disaster songs back to back?" (I was the girl who yelled "Yes!" at the top of her lungs from the back).

One song that they performed that I'd never heard and that doesn't appear anywhere on his discography was "He's Six." It was written by Cleaves' bassist Ivan Brown:

He's wild... He's six
He... pokes things with sticks.

I want a copy of it! But the link to it on the FAQ on Cleaves' site is broken.

iPod Nation

The Hubster and I have given in and joined the iPod cult. I gave him a black one for Father's Day and he gave me a white one as an early birthday gift (so I can take it on vacation with me).

My main motivation for getting an iPod was so that I could stop carrying my giant CD books around in my car. Together they hold about 450 CDs. You do the math. (No, YOU do the math!) 450 CDs x an average of $15 per CD = $6,750. Recently I've begin living in fear that my car would be broken into and my CDs stolen. Some of the stuff I have in there can't be replaced; it's weird, indie, out of print or bootleg stuff I've gotten from the oddest collection of sources (begging, borrowing and stealing).

So, it has taken weeks to rip our combined CD collection to MP3s on our hard drive. In fact, I'm still ripping CDs. The repetitive mouse-related movement of my right arm is aggravating my tendinitis. Yuck.

And I just spent hours, days really, getting my iPod ready to go. Importing the music into iTunes, making playlists, importing movies and photos. (Again, I'm not really done. I'm actually still tweaking all this).I have a little vent to make here. The iTunes store will match your CDs with album cover art, but this is far from an error-free process. What fucking idiot enters this stuff, that no one double checks?!

There are frequent errors. Most are simple misspellings or transcription errors where the title iTunes labels an album with isn't the same as the actual CD. And therefore, it won't match up to display on your iPod (unless you change yours to be wrong, too). Here are a few such errors:

• Randy Travis, Greates Hits, Vol. 2 (Really? His "Greates" hits? I don't have that one...)
  
• Refreshments, Fizzy Fuzzy Big and Buzzy (No “The” before Refreshments? Well, it is sort of small on the cover.)
• X, More Fun in the World (The album is actually called More Fun the New World.)

It hasn't convinced me of what people are always trying to: that Apple is the most brilliant of companies. Someone needs to smack that cute kid in the Mac commercials.