Nobody's Fool

A favorite thing or two

I'd been sort of obsessively tracking when one of my very favorite bands, Sun Kil Moon, was going to be releasing a new album (they're one of those bands that kind of meanders about these things, and have actually only released one album of their own songs in their entire time as a band). And then I got busy and lost track. So I was thrilled to see a glowing review of the their new album, April, to be released (not coincidentally) April 1, in my new issue of Paste yesterday. I was even more thrilled to learn I can listen to some of the songs streaming on the band's MySpace page. There are only four songs there now, but every Sun Kil Moon is like its own little mini epic, sometimes stretching to several minutes apiece, long enough to keep me happy as I sit here and work.

I have an Arizmendi pastry and coffee in my belly, a sleepy dog at my feet, brochures to write, Sun Kil Moon playing sweetly on the stereo and a sunny California spring day outside my window. These are very nice work-at-home moments indeed.

Why I Love My iPod

I'm listening to my iPod on shuffle at work, desperately trying to ignore email and phone calls so I can actually get some writing done, for God's sake.

And it just jumped from "I'll Never Let You Go" by Elvis Presley, to Gillian Welch's "Elvis Presley Blues," to "In the Ghetto."

My iPod adores the King.

how long, how long must I sing this song

Sadly, I didn't score that well on the '80s Lyrics Quiz — some of them were sort of hard, and I realized that though I knew the tune, I had never ever really learned some of the words. I've been singing along for two decades and always go "sleh mma wah yeah" whenever I get to the lyrics I can't understand. Also, there were a lot of metal songs on there ... which I don't really consider fair.

we only miss them all the time

Strangely, I haven't had a celebrity passing shake me as much lately as Thursday's death by suicide of The Dead Milkmen's Dave Blood.

Yes, the band was silly. My husband, who was not a fan ever in his life, heard me playing some MP3s Thursday night and scoffed, "They're basically Weird Al Yankovic." But I fell in love with the band at a time when subversive and outrageous was what I really craved: lyrics that were smart enough to be offensive to the people around me who didn't get the satire. I suppose it's what industrial and metal were to other kids, except the music that this band created was so much more interesting and original ...

Of course, as soon as I heard the news (my husband broke it to me after I returned home from an evening of drinks from coworkers), all my strange and happy formative associations rushed back. I logged on to email and found that my friend Greg (with whom I used to scream these songs while bouncing around the confines of our tiny hometown) had had the same reaction, and had written me an email immediately upon hearing the news himself.

The band became dearer after I spent time in Philly, even though by then I had virtually stopped listening to the music. My friends Liz and Jerry, who were visiting S.F. this weekend, know some of the DMM guys personally from their involvement in the local music scene. Over mojitos and martinis last night, we all shared a moment of silence for Dave. So sad, that a person who helped so many kids find their voice, sense of humor, love of music, independence, could arrive at such a very unhappy ending.

Music Makes the People Come Together

I would like to heave a giant sigh of relief —

* S I G H *

— and loosen the white-knuckled grip I've had as I've prayed, sweated, and despaired over the collapse of modern music.

OK, that's pretty dramatic. Truth be told, though, since I moved to the Bay Area, I've been depressed about music, especially as it relates to commercial radio. Living in Philadelphia, with the best non-commercial radio in the country, spoiled me. Every day, I scratch my head over the fact that a city with such a strong music tradition can have such terrible (and I mean terrible) radio. Meantime, institutions like Rolling Stone never fail to disappoint.

So I was pleased to find that two new independent music magazines are concentrating on "good" music: Paste and Tracks. The most recent issue of Paste featured so many of my beloved bands that I curled up in bed and relished every article (plus it included a CD sampler, which I've always wished for in a magazine that discusses new music). Tracks is a bit more mainstream but also promising.

I've been a subscriber to No Depression for a couple of years now, but it's so niche sometimes that I lose interest. These two new magazines cover the range of genres in-depth, something that the other magazines out there fail to do.

(If only radio and TV would follow suit.)

So I'm breathing again, and happy. Unfortunately, Rex Hammock does not predict good things, especially for Tracks, which may suffer the curse of The New York Times.