[Abby’s Road] Like Fire

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We are overrated – we humans, I think. While there is a propensity for kindness and love and the pleasant, gentle touches of friends, we are also noisy and hateful and we abuse each other and the land that breeds the means to our own good health and well being. Perhaps this is the reason behind only allowing a handful of folks into my life, as far as friendships are concerned. I have a hunger for closeness and platonic intimacy, obviously, as I have friends (new ones, even), yet seeing my own faults reflected in the actions of others is uncomfortable and depressing and therefore avoided a lot of the time. I have issues, you say? Well, of course I do. Fucking hell. So do you. So there.

Music is an escape. Sometimes a song can be so good it seems to have been created in an otherworldly musical Petri dish by ghostly hands unattached to a mere mortal. But alas, the rhythms blanketing one’s solitary existence are made by people. Though it would be magnificent to witness, the strings aren’t plucking themselves. The human element can lead to disappointment, not so much in the music as in the person behind it, often changing the way a song is heard and perceived. For example: will I continue to listen to Sonic Youth on occasion? Of course I will. That said, will I ever be able to listen to “Silver Rocket” again without thinking Thurston Moore is a complete asshole for shacking up and leading a double life with some young groupie bird who ultimately severed the matrimony of one of rock and roll’s great duos? Nope. We all make mistakes and he killed the awesome.

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[Abby’s Road] Que Sarah Sarah

Remember way back…back when we were talking about the best of 2012 releases? Hard to believe it was nearly six months ago. At any rate, I rambled on about a few bands back then, one of which happens to be spinning (even more) incessantly on my turntable since I had the […]

[Abby’s Road] Oh Manchester, so much to answer for.

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So. Last month I finally made it. After many youthful daydreams about the city from whose loins an infinite number of my musical faves sprung, it happened. How’d it go? Well. Manchester.

Firstly, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the reason for my being in the drafty, NW England town: My Bloody Valentine live at the O2 Apollo. NOTE: I managed to wind my way around not writing a review following the release of mbv back in February when the entire blogosphere, megamagazines and even your grandma had something to say about the chaos surrounding it. Given everyone’s knowledge of my superfandom it was a bit too predictable for me to go on about how much I loved it at first listen (and still do).  Bor-ing. Right. Anyway. Manchester. I was there to see MBV.

While I realize the possibility and reality that I am writing this to an audience who largely doesn’t give a fuck, I’m giving it a go anyway. I’m not stupid. When after seeing the line-up more than a handful of 2013 Coachella ticket buyers snorted on Twitter about having no idea who The Stone Roses were (“maybe the promoters meant The Rolling Stones WTF?”) I had serious reservations about mentioning anything about this, or continuing to write at all. Good loving lordy. But, I have faith that a few folks out there are interested. It is an important part of musical history, this Man/Madchester. Genius the likes of Martin Hannett and Tony Wilson cannot be ignored. To take a completely selfish view: I care about it and so should you.

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[Abby’s Road] Under Blankets

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Covers. Cover songs, that is. I’ve talked about them before. Right. So I won’t go on and on over the bits I’ve mentioned then. Hopefully I don’t repeat myself very often. Here’s something new. I think.

I am big Shazamer. Wherever I am: car, shops, grocery…if I hear an unknown song and have my trusty iPhone, it’s happening. What a miracle, that Shazam. At any rate, post-identification, when I’m back in my bunker, an internet search follows. I want to hear the song again and anything else by said artist. This, of course, gets me sucked into a YouTube hole of monumental proportions. And I am not watching the nice stuff, that’s for damn certain.

I am a sucker for the “suggested” functions on ANYTHING. I mean, you never know. After watching and listening to what I was originally looking for I (nearly always) wander down the good ol’ “Related” road. This uncovers myriad do-it-yo-self videos. Here’s a little something to chew on: what is it that possesses a novice, fledgeling musician and drives them to put themselves and their rendition of WHATEVER onto the internet? Seriously. It’s rarely good. And my stars, it’s so hard to look away.

Why are these videos always so poorly lit? Turn on the goddamn lights. Unless you are in the bathroom with a backdrop of your ill-hanging shower curtain. This happens more often than I care to mention. Is it for acoustics?  Ultraviolet lighting (again, bad)? There are only a handful of reasons why you should be in the loo and I don’t want to see any of them. Like I said, I can’t look away. Somebody. Anybody. Please.help.me.

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[Abby’s Road] In like a Lion

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So. Social media and digital subscription services. Despite one’s attempts to avoid and not use them (I myself am anti-Twitter), both have infiltrated our lives to a point of being as common as a daily physical newspaper, which, ironically, 24 hour-a-day news-hungry public notwithstanding, has disappeared from some of the most lucrative of journalistic markets. When I mention a television program or a movie to my mother on the telephone and she’s like, “Hmm…didn’t see it. I’ll just Hulu it” one knows the Digital Age has crept into the lives of even some of its most (at one time) staunch critics. When my mom starts verbing website names? Right. You just know it (you go, mom).

For the most part, barring those addicted to porn or, even sadder, obese children, overly-round from hours in front of their laptops and iPads instead of running and jumping in the green green grass, the quest for information and entertainment has been positively simplified (exponentially) from 20 years ago. Anyone out there remember microfiche? The absolute DEVIL. Enough said. I do, however, find myself looking back at the days of hoarding music magazines, the extra-curricular side of print media utilization, with fondness. There is just something about the smell of a new magazine that’s warming. And it’s not like music nerds back in the day had a choice. It was either you read magazines (and listened to radio, sometimes) or not know what the hell was going on. I get sentimental about those days. Call me old fashioned. Probably wouldn’t be the first time. But I digress.

Recently, the chain of events which led me to my most recent obsession, band-wise, is the perfect example of how social media and online music (with a sprinkling of radio for good measure) works its recipe of magic. Indulge me.

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[Abby’s Road] Emptiness Inside

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It’s that time of year. Dreidels are spinning and trees are being trimmed. Advent wreaths a-glowing, this only means one thing: happy people. Refreshing.

Recently, it seems that everywhere I go, be it the crowded Ubahn, grocery store, Christmas markets, even on the -12c, iced-over footpaths begging to twist an ankle I am surrounded by smiling, pleasant humans. Even strangers are meeting my eyes and greeting me on the street. This NEVER happens (to me anyway) in Germany. Ordinarily I’m lucky if I get a cantankerous “entschuldigen” when someone knocks me in the ass with their shopping trolley at the supermarket. You’re just going to have to take my word on this one.

So, with all of this love flying around, one would think that even the congenitally pissed off and soulless would catch the fever. You know, shoot an un-creepy wink and a grin at an unsuspecting passerby or leave an extra-hefty tip for a waiter or waitress. OR…perhaps be elated when one of the most influential bands of recent history as far as independent music is concerned announces UK dates in early 2013 and reports a long-awaited album release is imminent; especially if you are a fan. But no..no. I’ve gone too far…I’ve asked too much. GAH.

I deserve it. My frustration I mean, as I pay attention to social media and blogs, especially when it comes to My Bloody Valentine. Admittedly, I probably receive one too many email blasts, Facebook updates, you name it, as I want to be informed. Foolishly, I assume the majority of folks receiving these messages, messages one must SUBSCRIBE to, are, like me, fans of the band and overjoyed about said announcements. Nope.

I have no idea what it’ll take to make these cranky bastards happy, actually.

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[Abby’s Road] California Dreaming

So. It’s been a while.

Holidaymaking. Flying. Travel. Hurricanes. Not necessarily a time when one wants to be writing anything but a handful of postcards. Moreover, I was (also) cursed with a five-alarm case of writer’s block. Everything swimming around in my noodle was non-music related (far from it). I needed music’s medicinal value, yes, but I didn’t feel like mulling it over or jotting anything down about it. I just wanted to listen. Simple, really. Anyone would have been bored with what I had to say. So thanks for hanging around and reading again. Right.

While I was off exploring the cradle of western civilization and, later, revisiting my roots (read: lazing about in a cheap rented flat on the beaches of Crete and then drinking copious amounts of wine in my hometown for a 3-week visit) I listened to a lot of music, read some books and relaxed. Perfect. There was, however, despite locale and continent, one resounding musical thread throughout my autumnal journeying: Allah-Las.

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[Abby’s Road] This is your brain on music.

Firstly, I hope all is rosy and happy in Autumnal music land. Truly is the best time of the year for music nerds like me. I find myself talking more about music; even with those I don’t have a whole lot in common with (like my 10 year old nephew). It’s like the […]

[Abby’s Road] Right about now…

The time has come my friends. The last of summer’s sweaty days…back to school. The air is cooling down, the musty fragrance of decaying leaves is on the breeze: it’s autumn tour time. The most wonderful time of the year. Lalala.

It happens every early August. I ramble to a friend “wow, it’s been so long since I’ve been to a gig” or something similar and, like clockwork, a few days later I see my first autumnal tour poster. It’s quite comforting. There are few things I can bank on these days, though late August through late October I can be sure that there will be some live music in my life.

Right. So I made my first jaunt to the ticket vendor a few weeks ago and snatched up a handful of tasty ins, the first of which happened this week, Of Montreal. I must say that they were phenomenally amazing live; it was my first time seeing them. I had always assumed that while their records are fantastic, a live show might be on the theatrical and silly side. I suppose because, lyrically, Barnes is all over the damn place. Not the case. Spangles and eye makeup aside, it was the antithesis of dramatic, super tight and perfect. I also purchased the best piece of band swag ever created in the history of space and time, or in my 25 years of show going at least. But I digress.

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[Abby’s Road] Love Songs on the Radio

I don’t have a song; the single song I associate my #1 relationship with or one that quintessentially harnesses my youth in 3 minutes or less for that matter. I was having coffee with a friend the other day and the conversation somehow wound around to her and her husband’s “Song.” Eh?? What’s […]