"Jamz" Is A Legitimate Synonym for "Songs," Right? Yeah, Let's Go With That.

For as long as I can remember, my best buddy (and fellow blogger), Andrea, has been a music fiend. We were shopping at Borders the other day (fine – we were there to reserve copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Whatever.), and when contemplating the purchase of a new full price hardcover, she said, “When I see that the price of that book is $26, I immediately think, ‘That’s 26 songs I could buy from iTunes.’” She’s just passionate and hardcore about music that way. When we were in high school, she used to have this gigantic book of CDs that she would take everywhere with her (this was before the days of the iPod, kiddos). I loved that book. It was so fun to look through it and see what tunes she loved. I mean, sure, there were some questionable choices (*NSYNC’s No Strings Attached comes to mind, but then again, I was into Hanson, so I have no room to talk), and yeah, she did go through a regrettable country phase, but on the whole, her taste in music was generally fabulous and still is to this day. She’s constantly expanding and refining her collection, which is a true gem. It’s a soulful, eclectic mix of hidden treasures that speaks to just how hip a person she is. Whenever I’m looking for something new and cool to listen to, I just ask Andrea what she’s been hearing lately, and I’m always more than satisfied with her recommendations.

A few years ago, Andrea and I started doing these “Best Of” mixes with all of our favorite songs of the year on them. We’d burn each other our “Best Of” CDs and then write out why we loved each song and why they made the cut. There was really no method to the madness (there rarely is with any of our schemes), and the only real rule was that you could choose any song you wanted, just so long as it was new to you in that year. I think we originally started doing these mixes because Andrea was bored at work and needed something to do, and because I am always willing to share my opinion on anything at anytime with anyone. But ever since their inception, they’ve become like a hallmark of our friendship. Every June (the halfway point of the year), we offer up our favorite 15 songs from the first part of the year, and then in December we finish things off by bumping it up to the best 30 jams of the entire year (just because we like that kind of symmetry. Wow, that paints us as way nerdier than we actually are. Maybe not…). I love these mixes. They’re invariably filled with great music, and reading each other’s comments on each song is always interesting (and often hilarious). This year, we thought we’d let you in on the fun and share our midyear “Best Of” mixes with you. And, because we’re cool like that, we’ve made it possible for you to snag the songs for yourself. All you have to do is click the song title and it’s yours to keep, just so long as you promise to go and support the artist if you like what you hear (which, oddly enough, you can do by simply clicking on the album art. We make it so easy to be a good person here, don’t we? You people are so lucky to have us.). Anyway, on to the music:

Nicole’s Best of 2007 So Far
1. “Brand New Set of Wings” by Joe Purdy: I was one of those latecomers to the Lost fandom. Andrea, on the other hand, was all about the show from its inception, and she’s the one that conned me into watching the first season on DVD. I’m so glad she did. Not only do I completely love the show (RIP Charlie, you little reformed cokehead, you), it also introduced me to Joe Purdy, whose track “Wash Away” was featured in the third ep of the first season. That’s a beautiful song, and so is “Brand New Set of Wings.” I love the chorus: “Oh Sally, don’t get down/’Cause I’ve been looking all over town/For a brand new set of wings for you.” It’s such a sweet sentiment. And the sound, the actual instrumentation of the thing, is so full and rich in a folksy, unpretentious kind of way. It’s a keeper!




2. “F*ck Was I” by Jenny Owen Youngs: There is nothing that I don’t love about this song. First of all, the lyrics (about being stupid enough to think that you won’t get hurt by a bad guy) are clever without being obnoxious. I especially dig the chorus: “Skillet on the stove, it’s such a temptation/Maybe I’ll be the lucky one who doesn’t get burned?/What the f*ck was I thinking?” The track is slow and melodic and heavy on the strings, which I love. And even though there’s nothing fancy about Jenny Owen Youngs’ voice, it’s the simplicity of it that makes it so good.





3. “Walt Whitman Bridge” by Marah: I read a review of a Marah album once that compared their sound to Springsteen, if Springsteen and the Replacements got together and made an album. I have to admit that I could never describe who Marah is to you more perceptively or more accurately than that. Listen to this song, note it’s deceptively poetic lyrics (especially right at the end there), enjoy its blue-collar, everyman-accessible vibe, and become a Marah fan. You’ll thank me later.




4. “Amazing Glow” by the Pernice Brothers: Did you ever hear a song where the lyrics did not at all match the music? This song is the exact opposite of that. The simple, melancholy tune is the perfect accompaniment to the lyrics, which tell the story of a guy who dumped a girl, only to realize too late that she was the one for him, and subsequently can’t get her off his mind. My favorite verse (though the whole song is a lyrical gem): “I changed my master plan/I changed my friends and city/I go to sleep, I still wake up screaming//A dream so full and real/You’d think I would know better/I try to stave off a new day from rising.” I think the imagery is just perfection there; he can’t escape her or his broken heart no matter what he does, and it’s no one’s fault but his own. He’s left with memories and loneliness and nothing else (take note, gentlemen – giving up a good girl is not a good idea). What a great song, and also a seriously good band - make it a point to sample their back catalog if you’re not already familiar with their stuff. You won’t be sorry.





5. “Falling Awake” by Gary Jules: I love – LOVE – everything – EVERYTHING – about this one. It’s just excellent in every aspect, from the double entendre title, to the subtle, keyboard-laced melody, to each and every cynical, hopeless lyric in between. I feel like such a glutton for punishment when it comes to this song. It’s incredibly sad, but I keep it on repeat because it’s so gorgeous, and every time I do this, I’m always thrown into a really miserable, depressive funk. This cannot be a good thing. But I can’t stop it. I just can’t. And you won’t be able to either (I apologize in advance). Also, I honestly do not know when I became addicted to sad songs. I blame Andrea. You should too.




6. “Dragon” by Tori Amos: I’m not the world’s biggest Tori Amos fan by a long shot. Most of her songs are a little too angry for my taste. But this song…this song, I love. The vibe of the song is all over the place, hitting moments of somber restraint, sweet desperation, and burning anger, but somehow it seems dynamic rather than unfocused. By the end of the track, you feel like you’ve just listened to a rock opera. Or, like you’ve just been in a fist fight. Either way, you’re exhausted. I don’t know how Tori Amos does that.




7. “Phantom Limb” by The Shins: If you know anything about today’s music scene, you know that the Shins are, shall we say, very well regarded. I don’t think I read one bad review of their latest album, Wincing the Night Away. As I see it, the success of the Shins is based on their ability to stay cool enough to keep the indie kids feeling all hip and superior while still appealing to a more mass market, commercial demographic (ie, your John Mayer fans). I think “Phantom Limb” bridges the gap between the two brilliantly (It was the first single from the album. Coincidence? Doubtful.). Even though it’s hard to find cohesion in the lyrics (which James Mercer, the lead singer, has said are about two young lesbians - to which I say, "Um, what?"), the music is undeniably lovely and incredibly addicting.




8. “Dirty Dream Number Two” by Belle & Sebastian: I am so behind the times with Belle & Sebastian, though maybe I can’t be totally to blame; after all, the in-the-know college kids were listening to them when I was still in high school. Whatever the case, I’m on board now, and it’s all because of this song. I like to think of it as the perfect addition to the soundtrack of my life, combining my slightly ebullient and vivacious side (a la Archie’s Betty), and my snarky and introspective side (a la…Emily the Strange?). A girl can dream. Dream. “Dirty Dream Number Two.” I didn’t even plan that! Nice.




9. “Young Folks” by Peter Bjorn and John: I went to two Pete Yorn shows this year. Both shows had three opening bands. They weren’t heinous…but yeah, they were kind of heinous. The only thing that made waiting for Pete better was this song, which was on the pre-show mix. I am forever indebted to his cousin/merch guy/tour historian, Max, who writes this blog and made that mix. It’s so unusual, and unusually catchy, too. How could you not love it?




10. “Sick of Myself” by Matthew Sweet: I first became aware of Matthew Sweet through my friend, Dave. Dave’s collection is, for lack of a better word, awesome. What’s even more awesome is that it’s all meticulously catalogued on one of those portable hard drives, which Dave drops off at my house every once in a while so I can scavenge for new music. The last time I had the hard drive, I snagged Time Capsule: The Best Of Matthew Sweet because I enjoyed the Thorns’ cover of the Jayhawks’ “Blue,” and Matthew Sweet is in the Thorns. Before this, I hadn’t really heard any of his original songs, but after giving the album a thorough listen, I became a full-fledged fan, and “Sick of Myself” became my favorite Matthew Sweet song. Even though the lyrics are wrought with pessimism and desperation, I still think of this as a kind of post-punk power pop love song. All I know is, whenever I hear this song, I think, “I want a guy to love me like that.” And I also think, “This sounds like it was recorded in a garage.” So there you go.




11. “Diamond Ring” by Joseph Arthur and the Lonely Astronauts: If you have never heard Joseph Arthur’s Redemption’s Son, then I feel tremendously sorry for you. It’s one of my favorite albums of all time, and I honestly can’t say enough good things about it. His latest release, Let’s Just Be, is, well…I find it hard to give it compliments. It’s weirdly meandering and sloppy, and even though I love Joseph Arthur, I just can’t get on board with this particular bit of experimentation. Its only saving grace is “Diamond Ring,” and thank goodness for it. I love this song, not only for its spot-on falsetto and great 70s rock vibe (it’s definitely Rolling Stones-influenced), but because it gives me hope that Joseph Arthur will get his crap together and give us a quality record soon. If he doesn't, I might go all Steven from "The Real World: Seattle" on his ass. I've done it once, I'll do it again. Sleep with one eye open, Arthur.




12. “Hesitating Beauty” by Billy Bragg and Wilco: As the story goes, Nora Guthrie (aka Woody’s daughter) asked Billy Bragg and Jeff Tweedy (of Wilco) to add music to some of her father’s lyrics after his death. The result was an album called Mermaid Avenue, which fused Woody’s idealistic lyrics with contemporary, folksy melodies. This is one of my favorite tracks from that album, for its twangy, straightforward loveliness. (Side note: I'm learning so much about myself while writing this list. In addition to being a person who loves sad songs, I've apparently also turned into one of those people who say "lovely" all the time. I'm like Mrs. Thurston Howell the Third or something. That's just...lovely.)




13. “Fountain of Youth” by Grant-Lee Phillips: I have been a longtime fan of Grant-Lee Phillips. We go so far back that I remember when he was called Grant-Lee Buffalo (I still don’t get what happened there. Was it like a John Cougar Mellencamp kind of situation? Huh. Enigma.). His songs make me feel sort of dopey and light-headed in the best way possible, like I’m floating or something. Some people think heaven is filled with harp music; for me, it’s just an endless string of Grant-Lee Phillips songs, this one included.




14. “Clean Getaway” by Maria Taylor: I was debating between two Maria Taylor songs for this mix, this one and “A Good Start.” The latter is so, so good, and I highly recommend giving it a listen, but in the end, “Clean Getaway” won out (so I flipped a quarter, so sue me). The only word I can think of that would accurately describe the vibe of this song is “plaintive.” Also, “wistful.” And “jackhammer.” “Merciless.” “Insatiable.” Okay, veered off topic there for a sec. Seriously though, back to “Clean Getaway”: It’s all acoustic, just a guitar and Maria Taylor’s pretty voice. It's my most played song on iTunes for a good reason.




15. “Ziggy Stardust” by Seu Jorge: Yes, “Ziggy Stardust” is a classic track off David Bowie’s famously epic album of the same name. Yes, there have been many fine, interesting interpretations of the song offered up by many fine, interesting artists throughout the years. Hear me now: I don’t care about them. Hell, I barely care about David Bowie when I listen to Seu Jorge’s version, which, incidentally, is sung in Brazilian Portuguese. I’m usually such a lyric lover that you would think the language barrier would turn me off, but strangely, it does not. I’m so in love with Seu Jorge’s voice and loose, uncomplicated acoustic guitar work that it more than makes up for the fact that I have no idea what he’s saying. This song makes me feel completely content and grateful, and that's all I need to know.





So there you have it, my midyear mix. If you get your click on here, you can check out Andrea's (super cool) mix too. I hope you enjoy them! And if you don’t, well, I don’t want to hear about it. Seriously, zip the lip.

Hypothetical Love Letter

Dear Dave Lieberman,

Hi there! My name is Nicole, and although I know this may sound a little crazy, I think I should tell you: I believe, with every fiber of my being, that you and I are soul mates. I realize that this sounds a little…outlandish, especially since we have never actually met. That might be a problem for some people, but not for me, and hopefully not for you either, because I think we could really be something special, and once you give me a chance to explain, I think you’ll come to feel that way too.

I remember the first time I saw your show on the Food Network, making your budget conscious meals and serving them to your friends and family. I was immediately attracted to your easy smile, your sparkling eyes, and your adorable laugh. But those things are apparent to everyone. The more I watched your show, the more I began to appreciate your obvious joie de vivre, your thoughtful, enthusiastic commentary, and your kind heart. I’m always on the lookout for swell guys, but you – you are more than swell, Dave. You’re magnificent.

For those reasons (and several more not totally appropriate to publish reasons), I have a proposal for you: I think we should get married. Soon. I can’t think of any way in which this could possibly be a bad idea. The one snag that we might hit is that you appear to be Jewish and I am not. This isn’t an issue for me. I would even be willing to consider conversion if it was that important to you (it did, after all, work for Charlotte and Harry on “Sex and the City”). I’m not always flexible like that, but for you, Dave, I think I could be. Unless of course you don’t believe in marriage, in which case, let’s move in together and develop our own kind of Goldie Hawn/Kurt Russell dynamic. I’m more than fine with that too. Whatever you want, Dave. Let’s make it happen.

Once we work that stuff out, I think we should absolutely have children. It goes without saying that those would be some gorgeous kids. They would be as beautiful as John Travolta likes to think his kids are. Your inherent perkiness and easy going demeanor, coupled with my dry wit and fantastic organizational skills, would, I think, turn out a few of the most impressive, well-liked people on the planet. They would be marvelous, little half Jewish/half Italian pieces of art. Masterpieces, even.

I can see our lives together very clearly, Dave. Waking up in the morning, reading the paper in bed, dropping the kids off at school, hitting up the farmer’s market, then going home, where you make our family an amazing meal while the nanny cares for the children and I drink a few Mojitos. After dinner, we’d read the kids a book and put them to bed, then watch a little late night TV and adjourn to the boudoir ourselves. And did I mention the passion? Oh yes, there is passion. I can feel it now, even with all these miles between us. Sit closer to the computer monitor and you’ll feel it too – it’s buzzing, completely electric. Doesn’t that sound like a dream to you, Dave? Doesn’t it just sound divine?

I love you, Dave Lieberman, and I hope that after reading this letter, you will love me too, or, at the very least, be open to trying to make something magical happen between us. I know you’re very busy, and it must be terribly exhausting to be as constantly enthusiastic as you are, but I’m willing to wait. I know, in the deepest depths of my soul, that you are it for me. You’re the one, Dave! And for that, I would wait forever (I mean, I’ll wait forever unless Jeffrey Garten - you know, Ina’s husband - happens to come back on the market again. Then I might have to reassess...).

(Almost) Wholeheartedly yours,

Nicole

Mono, Library Fights, Dodgers

My brother has mono, aka “The Kissing Disease.” I guess this isn’t such a great thing, but I can’t help but wonder if he doesn’t deserve it. He does have sort of manwhorish tendencies. I think he makes out with a lot of girls, and I’m not sure how particularly nice he is to any of them. I’m not totally convinced that karma is a real thing, but this incident is really pushing me in that direction.

When you have mono, they say you get pretty tired because it takes a lot of energy for your body to fight off the virus. What they don’t tell you is that mono makes you one nasty mother. Ever since my brother got sick, he’s been nothing but terrible to everyone he crosses. I understand that he doesn’t feel well, and sure, everyone has the right to be a bit contrary when they’re under the weather, but this is really bad. He’s like that girl with the Lyme Disease from “The Real World: Seattle.” And I’m about to be like that dude that slapped her when she was driving away in that car and then threw her teddy bear out into the bay.

He’d better watch out.


***


In other news, the Dodgers are losing. I hate to say “I told you so,” but I did. I totally called it. Not that this makes me some kind of visionary or soothsayer (though incidentally, how awesome would it be to be a soothsayer? I mean, really.). I’m not insane or anything; I know I can’t see the future. I can, however, see the past, and what the past tells me is that more likely than not, even though we have a lot of season left, it’s all going to be downhill from here. Well, maybe not all downhill. There might be a steady ascension to the top of the heap, but that will only make going down that much faster and more terrifying. Through years of experience, I am, sadly, prepared for either scenario.

I still love Ned Colletti, though. And I still really hope I’m wrong.


***


I was in the library one day last week and, no lie, there was almost a brawl. This moron was talking on his cell phone (ironically while standing next to a “This is a no cell phone zone” sign) and some girl did that obnoxious shushing noise in his direction. He shushed her back. And then it went down like this:

Shushing Girl: “Don’t you know you’re in a library? There’s no cell phones in the library!”
Cell Phone Man: “You’re the one that’s talking!”
SG: “I’m the one that’s telling you to shut the hell up!”
CPM: “I’ll talk on my phone if I want to! You’re the one who needs to shut the hell up!”
SG: “Shuuuuuush! Shush shush!”
CPM: “Shush yourself!”
SG: “SHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSH!” [Ed. Note: This was such a long shush that from now on, it will be known as “The Shush Heard ‘Round the World." Well, I’m calling it that. You can join me if you want.]
CPM: (huffily) “This is bullshit.”

And, scene.

I was caught directly in the middle of this whole thing. I kept my eyes down the whole time, partly because I wanted to crack up at the absurdity of it all, and partly because I was afraid that if I cracked up I would somehow be dragged into the fight (if you can call it that). And I would most definitely lose in a fight, because I am a wuss. So in actuality, it was a self-preservation move.

Anyway, the “fight” was over really quickly. It was like one of those canine skirmishes at the dog park. The dogs get in there, rough each other up a bit, and then back off really fast. It was like quick-fire anger. And I have to say, for how petty and ridiculous the whole situation was, I really did get a good laugh out of it (once they both were out of the vicinity, of course).

People can be so idiotic sometimes. Thank God for them, or I’d never have anything to post here.


***

Hope you’re having a good week! May it be filled with your brother not having mono, your home team winning, and a total avoidance of any and all library squabbles.

Alone Time

I live at home with my parents and my brother, AJ. I don’t feel bad about this because I’m only 21, and also because I’m a girl, which is way less weird than being a guy and still living with your parents in your twenties (which I know is a crazy and ridiculous double standard, but hey, if society wants throw us that one bone, I’ll take it). Besides that, I really love living at home. I have one of those great families that everyone wants but few people actually have. They’re funny and smart and just all around fantastic, and more importantly, they’re the perfect family for me. I’m 100%, completely blessed to be able to call them my own, and that’s a fact that I’m acutely aware of every day. I’m just incredibly lucky to have them.

Still, something happens when you spend large amounts of time with people, any people, regardless of how you really feel about them. Little things start to annoy you. Dishes that pile up in the sink, mail addressed to you that you never see, a total and complete lack of control of the remote – those kinds of things. And no matter how great people are, sometimes those annoyances build up to the point where you just need a break, lest you become murderous over an unflushed toilet or innumerable pairs of shoes left lying around. Lucky for me (and for them), I got that break last weekend when my parents had to chaperone my brother (who is an excellent high school third baseman) during an out-of-town baseball tournament, leaving me home alone for an entire three days.

There are only a handful of things I truly relish in life, and alone time is most definitely one of them. That’s what was so great about them going to the tournament. I would be alone. Just me. By myself. For three days. Three days! The prospect of even one day all to myself thoroughly excites me, so you can imagine how jazzed I was about having all that time just for me. Alone time is always nothing short of a beautiful thing.

My family left early Saturday morning, and from then on the perks set in. The first thing I did was sleep in. I wasn’t even all that tired, but the quiet house, the warm bed, and the knowledge that I didn’t have to do anything for anyone else but me that day made it easy to enjoy a little extra snooze time. Like, four hours of extra zzz’s, to be exact. I know that seems both ridiculously extravagant and strangely decadent, but when you’re sleeping that deeply and comfortably, stuff like that fails to register on your concern-o-meter, especially when the parameters of said meter have shifted from “Is this activity acceptable and/or healthy?” to “Is there any way I could make this activity more pleasant for myself?” Actually, scratch that. A better way of putting it would be to say that my concern-o-meter had morphed itself into a pleasure-o-meter, and that sleeping in was right up there towards the top on the new scale.

Once I woke up, I did something I wouldn’t normally do: I stayed in my pajamas. When my family is home, there are always a million and a half things to do, and as there is so little time to get all that stuff done during the weekend, we have to hit the ground running, which means no elongated pajama wearing. But I didn’t have anything scheduled for myself till later in the day, so I stayed in my pajamas. I put on my robe and made myself breakfast (on a tray, with milk AND orange juice, just because I could), and watched ten episodes of “Barefoot Contessa” that had backlogged on my Tivo. My alone weekend was off to a really great start.

Once I peeled myself off the couch (no easy task), I started to get ready for a late lunch with my favorite cousins, Denise and Stacie, and their mom, my Aunt Dee. These are three of my absolute most favorite people on the planet. Denise and Stacie are like my super fun older sisters, and my aunt is so sweet that you just want to stuff her like a doll and carry her around with you wherever you go. I never have a bad time when I’m with them. They make me feel like I’m the coolest, most dazzling and interesting person in the entire world, and that’s not a terrible feeling to have. They know the best places to go, the conversation is unfailingly excellent, and I always leap at the chance to spend time with them. This time, we went to lunch at a great little creperie (their find, natch), and, as expected, it was awesome. What made it even more awesome was knowing that I didn’t have my family to hurry back to. I could linger at lunch as long as I wanted to because no one was waiting for me at home. I can’t describe how nice that felt, knowing that my time was my own. I really liked it.

I spent the rest of my weekend engaging in similarly self-indulgent activities. I was starting to look like Peter Gallagher and Brooke Shields’ love child, so I got my eyebrows waxed. I took an insanely long shower. I read (this insane book about the Skull and Bones group - it terrifies me and I like it), listened to music (Joe Purdy’s “Paris in the Morning” – get on it), and had a Jim Halpert swoon fest while watching seasons 1 and 2 of “The Office” on DVD. You know when you get so relaxed that you’re basically dopey and have a total inability to function on a normal level? I was about two ticks away from being right there. I was probably as close to that point as a person as tightly wound as I am can ever possibly be. It was glorious.

Still, I was happy when my family came home. I missed them like you miss your bed when you’re in a hotel. I mean, a bed is a bed, but there’s no bed that will ever feel as right to you as your own bed does. And it was the same way with my family. The house was nice without them, and even though I was blissed out to the max on an alone time high in their absence, it felt good to have them back at home with me again. It felt right. Then again, it always feels right till the dishes take on new and impressive architectural heights and the mail gets lost in some sort of bizarro suburban Bermuda Triangle situation. When those things happen (and they will), I feel pretty certain that I’ll be marking the days off on the calender until they have an out-of-town thing again. I'll let you know when that countdown begins...

Change of Heart

By now, you have probably learned a few things about me, things like how I am heartily entertained by gratuitous violence on television and how I’m into very sad, very depressing novels. And, since starting this blog, I’ve learned something about me too: I don’t really know how to blog. And also, I don’t think I’m a very good blogger. For one thing, I don’t post very often, and really, that’s probably rule number one in the blogger’s manual. That’s another thing: I have never actually read the blogger’s manual, which is just another facet of my blog laziness. I think the main reason that I have a hard time keeping up here is that I try to make every post great, which is not to say that I think every post I write is great, but to admit that I feel weird sending things out into the Internets without them being the very best that I think they can be, because after all, they are a representation of who I am. It’s like with clothes: When you want to make a good impression, you put on your spiffiest, sharpest looking attire. The problem with that is, after a while, it becomes taxing. It’s like a chore, especially for me, because I don’t wear smart little outfits. I wear jeans. And if I’m going out – fancy jeans. Because that’s who I am. I’m just casual that way. And by approaching my blog the way I have been thus far, it feels like I’m wearing my fancy clothes all the time, and I know in my heart that it’s not as fun as it could be. So, from now on, I think I’ll take a more relaxed approach to Destroy All Evidence, one that lets me be the truest version of myself (jeans) and makes it enjoyable for me to share my thoughts and experiences with you, my blog buddies. I hope you stick around while I work this thing out.