Exhibition

Below is an excerpt from a NY Times article about a punk rock auction at Christie's.

CBGB's sticker-encrusted urinal is already museum-worthy, and on Monday more detritus from the era of the Ramones and the Clash hurtled its way into high culture, when Christie's hosted its first auction devoted to punk memorabilia. Vivienne Westwood bondage pants, photographs of Lou Reed and Blondie, badges for the Buzzcocks and concert fliers from clubs like Max's Kansas City went up for bid at the decidedly nonpunk hour of 10 a.m. Estimates were as high as $1,500 for an original "God Save the Queen" Sex Pistols T-shirt and $7,000 for an autographed Ramones test album from 1976. "We've sold punk material before -- a T-shirt here, a poster there," said Simeon Lipman, the head of Christie's pop culture department, at a preview the day before the sale. "This time around I wanted to explore the punk aesthetic. I love the music, and the memorabilia itself is very, very scarce. It has such a wonderful look to it. It's very visceral."

I know what you're thinking--here comes a post about the death (like the third or fourth death) of punk, the commodification of art, and the conflation of music and commerce. Wrong. Okay, I admit, I thought about that angle, but let this post be an exercise in restraint, in devil's advocacy, and in folly.

After all, what is it about the marriage of Christie's and Punk that is so threatening? Perhaps if we could afford to crystallize our youth by means of memorabilia--and not just our own, but iconic, codified images associated with a certain musical era--than the notion of buying back our past wouldn't seem so crass, or odd. I mean, on our own, as music fans of mostly modest means, we've tried to cobble together our own shrines and mini-museums. From ticket stubs to posters torn off telephone polls, from concert t-shirt well past their prime to a pen mark on a ticket stub that may or may not be an autograph, to photos depicting the back of the crowd but also, somewhere in the frame, the neck of a guitar and the arm of the musician you adore. And we've never doubted these keepsakes; we are claiming only what is ours: memories, and a sense of having put our feet down in the right place at the right time, for once.

But what if these possessions could be grander? Appreciated by more than a few old college friends and a mercifully understanding boyfriend or girlfriend or spouse who doesn't ask us to throw them out in the next move. As fans, we elevate music to the highest echelons; we obsess over it, breathe it and live it, why shouldn't we memorialize in a way befitting of our worship?

Thus, if my musical fandom could be expressed professionally, curatorially, and monetarily--well, then here is my wish list (for starters):

Patti Smith's outfit from the Horses album cover
Ricky Wilson (B-52's) guitar from the "Legal Tender" video
A Pete Townshend jumpsuit
A beer bottle thrown but not entirely destroyed by a member of the Replacements
Bo Diddley's guitar from cover of Bo Diddley is a Gunslinger album cover
Kim Gordon's broken high heel from the 'This Ain't No Picnic' festival

Feel free to add your own wish list.

1:49 PM ET | 11-26-2008 | permalink

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Monday Music

Greg Kihn. I come back to this song every couple of years. It's a predictable and hardworking tune, yet it somehow manages to transcend its simplicity.

Echo & The Bunnymen. One of my favorites. In this live version of the song, the bass is too loud and the whole thing sounds like a British version of The Sonics' "Strychnine."

Linda Ronstadt should be more influential than she is -- either that, or not enough folks are 'fessing up to it.

Agent Orange. One of the first songs I ever learned to play on guitar.

Neu! Everyone should listen to this song at least once a year.

Nazz. Todd Rundgren. So young, so cute.

12:04 AM ET | 11-24-2008 | permalink

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Friday Sharing

Real fans scream. Real fans cry. If you haven't already seen this video, it's worth checking out:

Also, for those who are interested, I wrote a piece about Wii Music for Slate the other day. You can read it here.

12:27 PM ET | 11-21-2008 | permalink

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The Spells: Bat Vs. Bird

In the late 1990s, my friend Mary Timony and I started a side project called The Spells. We put out one EP, played one show in Olympia and never did much else. Except that we had plans. We always talked about writing a full-length record, sending song ideas back and forth via computer and recording the album in chunks when we had time -- when we weren't on tour with our other bands. But that never happened.

We did, however, manage to start the process. In the summer of 2000, we recorded four songs in a couple of hours, the same amount of time in which we'd written them a few months earlier. If nothing else, making these songs available now is The Spells' way of finally acknowledging that we aren't going to get around to finishing the album.

We're streaming four previously unreleased songs and making two of them available as free downloads. (They'll be available for two weeks.)

Recently, I chatted with Mary about the project:

Carrie Brownstein: What was the year 2000 like?

Mary Timony: Here are the first things that come to mind about the year 2000:

1. When we recorded these songs, it was right before the Gore/Bush election. I think we recorded them in August and Bush was elected a few months later.
2. A random memory about 2000 I have is the whole Y2K thing. You were supposed to buy a bunch of gallons of water and canned provisions in case all the computers shut down and the s--- hit the fan. I remember not doing any of this stuff, but I had a friend who drove out to the country just in case. In case of what, I'm not sure, but then nothing happened.
3. I think 2000 is when I started being aware of electroclash. I'm not sure why I think this is important, but maybe it's because, looking back on it, it was music that felt unrelated to the indie-rock of the '90s that I felt like I came from, and was a part of. It felt like new things were replacing it. What do you remember about the year 2000?

CB: It was my last full year in Olympia, though I didn't know it then. And, honestly, the first thing I think of when I see the year 2000 is that it's the year before Sept. 11. There was this crazy festival called Ladyfest that happened right before we recorded these songs, which was why you were already in town. I remember feeling hung over from the week, though not literally -- just exhausted from Olympia being so swollen with people. What were your impressions of Olympia?

MT: Well, I remember visiting Olympia from cold, crowded, expensive Boston. It felt like I was coming to some kind of utopian land; it was small and beautiful, everyone was friendly, there was really cool/hip music happening... What was going on in Olympia at this point for you, Carrie?

CB: I think I was touring a lot during that time, so Olympia was partly an escape for me, as well. I had a really great house there with a huge yard, almost an acre. I spent most of the summer reading and hanging out on a hammock under a triad of maple trees. It was rare for me to be home during the warm months, so I always tried to make the most of it.

MT: I remember we recorded these songs right after a Sleater-Kinney tour in Europe -- and then playing the Original Ladyfest in Olympia, right?

CB: Exactly. Our bands had just toured Europe together for the second time. I recall that we wrote the songs in your apartment in Jamaica Plain. I think I came up from D.C. to visit you after I finished a tour. How was writing for The Spells different from writing for your solo material?

MT: I think writing for The Spells was different from doing solo stuff, because it was collaborative with you, and totally fun, and seemed to be like a natural extension of our friendship. Also, it was interesting, because as I remember it, I think we wrote and recorded these songs in less than a week. Is that right? How was writing for The Spells different from writing for S-K?

CB: I think we wrote them over the span of two days in Boston and recorded them in the same amount of time in Olympia. Writing with you was not totally dissimilar from writing with S-K, but you have such a different playing style, so it was challenging, but really great. I liked how freeing the experience was -- songs just sort of ended, or drifted off into a new part, never to return. And in spite of all the weirdness, the songs still had a stubborn poppiness to them. I also remember us being really obsessive about our guitar parts; both of us are playing lead melodies nearly the entire time. Have you thought much about these recordings in the eight years since we made them?

MT: I've always liked the songs a lot, and wanted to release them, but wasn't sure if we would since we only had four, and that's not enough for a traditional EP or record. What about you? Did you forget that we had these songs?

CB: I didn't forget about them at all. Every few years, I would take out the CD I had of the songs and listen to it for a few days straight. It felt like a secret. Not too many people knew we had recorded anything other than our first EP. I remember we kept thinking we'd eventually record more and put out a full-length. I don't even know if all of these songs would have made it on there. What is the main reason for you wanting to release these songs?

MT: I'm just glad we have the opportunity to do it, I guess. I don't know. What about you, Carrie? What do you think is your main reason for wanting to release them?

CB: It bothers me too much not to. Like a dog that needs to go out on a walk and you just keep putting it off. They need fresh air. A shorter answer would just be, why not?

Back to Top

"Bat Vs. Bird":

Download "Bat Vs. Bird" (PC users right-click, Mac users control-click and save/download to your computer)

"Viola":

"Champion Vampire":

"Antarctica":

Download "Antarctica" (PC users right-click, Mac users control-click and save/download to your computer)

Bat Vs. Bird credits:

Recorded by Justin Trosper at MagRecOne. Olympia, WA. August 2000.
Rachel Carns played drums.
Artwork by Curtis Pachunka.
Special thanks to Christina Files.

3:31 PM ET | 11-19-2008 | permalink

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Seattle: City Of Music™

On Oct. 29, Seattle Mayor Greg Nickels took the stage at the Paramount Theatre and announced "the formation of [a] city music commission and [a] collective 12-year strategy to solidify Seattle as a home to music business, musicians and live music."

The plan includes building a broader infrastructure to make Seattle friendly for business-related ventures, while aiming for a higher retention rate of musicians themselves, ostensibly alleviating the need for artists to relocate to larger music markets such as Los Angeles, Nashville or New York City. Furthermore, the plan aims to engender the city's residents with a sense that music and Seattle are one in the same -- beginning with more comprehensive music programs in schools. Seattle will not only be about music; it will be music.

In the early 1990s, when a giant flannel shirt called Grunge blanketed the nation, most music fans would have pointed to Seattle as a (if not the) vital music center. But even before Nirvana, Soundgarden, Temple of the Dog and the like took hold of our imagination, Seattle had a rich, if not wholly celebrated, history of jazz and blues music. And let's not forget Jimi Hendrix. Plus, most Pacific Northwesterners know that Quincy Jones and Bing Crosby grew up in these parts, a fact we're proud of, to say the least.

Since the '90s, though Seattle and the labels therein (from Sub Pop to Barsuk) have been impressive with both their business acumen and their ability to unearth new sounds, the music industry has changed, to say the least. For one, the notion of place has become diffuse. Sure, some might associate Death Cab for Cutie or Fleet Foxes with Seattle, but technology makes everywhere feel like nowhere. Music seems to exist out in the ether and right at our fingertips at the same time. So the first thought that comes to mind for me with Mayor Nickels' plan is that it's putting a stake in the ground -- it aims to establish a sense of locality in a time when the necessity of origin is questionable.

On a practical level, the plan brings more jobs to the city, and more creative ones at that. That's fantastic, but as an identity, how can Seattle: City of Music™ avoid the pitfall of kitsch? The self-consciousness of the idea runs the risk of turning Seattle into an attraction, as opposed to merely making it more attractive. Tourism helps economies, but does it help art? Haven't Seattle and other Northwest bands thrived precisely because they're creating from outside the industry, as opposed to from within it? What will all the musicians and music-business folks do when Seattle starts to feel more like the Hollywood of Washington State? And where will they go? Wait, I just realized what this is going to mean. Welcome to Portland.

2:57 PM ET | 11-18-2008 | permalink

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Mystery Drain

Right now, I'm reading Francine Prose's Goldengrove, with this wonderful passage toward the beginning of the book:

"Nico... with her chalky, disappointed voice. It was strange how she sounded... hollow and checked out, and with a foreign accent that made it seem she was learning the words as she sang them."

Aside from reminding me how much I love stumbling upon pop-music asides in the middle of a non-music-themed novel, it also got me thinking about mystery and the mysterious. Nico is a perfect example. No matter how much you've demystified her persona with hagiography, she remains wraith-like and dimly lit, at least in one's imagination.

The notions of myth and mystery have always been crucial to the worship of music. The unknown elevates the art, removing it from the terrestrial realm, deeming it untouchable and holy. Sometimes, it's the musicians themselves who nurture the oblique; they are frustratingly ambiguous, spouting double-speak, peddling caprice. Or it can be their death that foments the uneasiness, leaving too many questions unanswered. Perhaps strange events befell the band. Some entire lives remain mysteries.

Robert Johnson, Bob Dylan, Badfinger, Sam Cooke, Brian Jones, Syd Barrett, Jandek, Bjork and Prince are just a few of the names that come to mind for me.

But where is the mystery now, and who embodies it? Certainly, in a time of relentless self-amplification, being mysterious could be a liability. With fans' attention spans being so short, and new music pouring in by the hour, bands (whether on their own or with pressure from their labels or managers) must feel the need to be available and present in order to stay relevant; the pursuit of relevance is a constant and exhausting endeavor. Yet updating your MySpace page on a daily basis, posting photos of your recording session on Flickr and writing a tour diary doesn't leave much to the imagination.

Maybe the definition of "mysterious" has changed to be more akin to "enigmatic." That allows for Jack White, M.I.A or Lil Wayne to be "mysterious," even though we can read about their comings and goings in the tabloids and on blogs.

Or we can think of mystery as a superficiality or costume. Then we get Marilyn Manson, Insane Clown Posse, Cher and Buckethead. But does makeup really cover anything other than self-consciousness? Certainly it doesn't mask intention. I mean, I'm pretty sure no one ever wondered what Kiss was about.

So maybe mystery isn't a requirement for loving music, for exalting it. Maybe it's the songs that we want to explore; for them to perplex us, not the artists themselves. But the age of overexposed musicians also means that the songs have to be better. If the artists are transparent, we need the songs to transcend what we know to be the authors' alternately pedestrian or outrageous lives.

That's when I go back to wanting a little more mystery overall, for there to be more elements to the music and to the musicians that leave me wondering, "Where did this come from?" And sometimes, I want the answer to be that I might not ever know.

So, which artists still remain mysterious to you?

1:00 PM ET | 11-14-2008 | permalink

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Disappointment Is So Last Year

Is it just me, or was 2008 largely free of musical disappointments? Perhaps I'm still basking in a post-election glow, and this new era of politics is making me forgive (or, more likely, forget) flaws and missteps in other realms, like music. Or maybe it really was a stellar year.

There were exciting endeavors by Crystal Stilts, Deerhunter, Fleet Foxes, Black Mountain, Mt. Eerie and Chad VanGaalen, not to mention Santogold, Sic Alps, T.I., TV on the Radio, Okkervil River, Bon Iver and Nick Cave. I could go on and on about the standouts from 2008 (and people have, over on the All Songs blog).

So what exactly constitutes a musical disappointment these days? A bad live performance? Can't we just watch a better show on the Internet the next day? And then the next? If one weak album comes out on a Tuesday, so many other records are released the same day that we can simply buy those instead. Better yet, we can just download the good songs if the entire record doesn't measure up to our standards of the band. It's like going to the dentist as a kid and getting the sugar-free lollipop on the way out -- we hardly remember any of the discomfort; only the gooey, palliative sweetness.

When it comes to music, maybe we're in a time of post-disappointment. After all, we're our own DJs, with our own playlists and our own song sequences to craft. We can even remix a song, or mash it up with another one, to make it more to our liking. An artistic stumble by our favorite musician no longer equals emptiness and longing while we wait for their next album; all it means is that we'll have to tide ourselves over with the non-stop, year-round, every-day-is-Christmas extravaganza that is the music industry. Plus, the artist that disappointed us with a sub-par album one month can just upload a redemptive, kick-out-the-jams song to their MySpace page two weeks later and voila! They rule! Again! All is forgiven. The business side of music may be struggling, but as listeners, we couldn't be more spoiled.

Yet despite the wealth we've amassed as fans, were there still musical moments in 2008 that left you wanting more? Artists, albums, festivals or shows that left you feeling disappointed even when you distracted yourself with other follies? Or has an abundance of musical goodness helped you move on from or ignore the underwhelming, even when it came from your favorites?

1:54 AM ET | 11-12-2008 | permalink

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Head Full Of Steam

In 1997, I heard The Go-Betweens for the first time. In Olympia, Wash., sitting on the floor of a carpeted dining room in the rickety rental house of a friend, the album Liberty Belle and the Black Diamond Express came through the speakers. Each song was my new best friend. In subsequent months, on tour with my band, I tracked down all of The Go-Betweens' LPs, poring over the mysteries that constitute their sound and their scope.

Each album title up through Send Me a Lullaby contained two Ls in the title, and the lyrics were lovelorn and oblique. They were like poems sung from corners -- of the world, of a room -- and this periphery from which they came kept them from seeming pretentious. Hope and despair always crash into one another in the band's songs. The two guitars stood in for the two singers when there was nothing left to say. And the drums, as played by Lindy Morrison, provided solidity only as much as oars do on a rowboat, with bumpy steering followed by moments of grace courtesy of two wooden sticks.

In some ways, it's easiest just to say that it was Australia's best pop group.

"Cattle and Cane"

So in 1999, the night I flew into San Francisco on the heels of a tour of Japan, despite jet lag and road weariness, there was nothing that would stand in my way of seeing Grant McLennan and Robert Forster perform at the Great American Music Hall. It remains the only time I ever saw the band perform, and it was one of the best shows I've ever seen. Two men and two guitars, each of them trading on their unique styles. The flamboyant and deep-voiced Forster, his narrators fierce analyzers, even as they struggle for certainty. Pompous, but hardly unkind. And McLennan, with his more sensitive vocal stylings, somehow sounded like the search party and the lost soul at the same time.

"Your Turn My Turn"

After the performance, we were lucky enough to meet them. We ended up back at the Phoenix Hotel, half of us on mattresses, the rest of us on the floor, guitars and beers out. I asked Grant to teach me The Go-Betweens' song "Love Goes On," and I played the chords while he sang. I cannot overstate the generosity of this moment. Later that night, I told Robert that my band's album The Hot Rock -- or at least my own writing and guitar playing on it -- was inspired completely by their music. Before The Go-Betweens, I never thought that delicacy could wield sharp knives.

"Spring Rain"

Below is a list of some of my favorite Go-Betweens lyrics. Feel free to include your own favorites, or to add your own thoughts and feelings about the band.

Lee Remick
She comes from Ireland
She's very beautiful
I come from Brisbane
I'm quite plain

Before Hollywood
Make me last
Through our love
Make me last
In the New West
The orange groves
Grow like a plague
Wherever you go
I told the Heads
We'll show the World
We'll film ourselves in history and chrome

Part Company
Come and have a look, beside me
A fine line of tears, part company.

That's her handwriting, that's the way she writes
From the first letter I got to this, her Bill of Rights, part company.

And what will I miss? Her cruelty, her unfaithfulness
Her fun, her love, her kiss, part company.

Man O Sand to Girl O Sea
I want you back
Feel so sure of our love
I'll write a song about us breaking up.

Spring Rain
Standing on the lawn with cousins and child brides
Caught for the camera on their best sides
Being caught forewarned
their best sides
When will change come
Just like Spring Rain

Clouds
Blue air I crave blue air I breathe
they once chopped my heart the way you chop a tree.
Told to equate Achievement with Pain
I stole their top prize and paid them back with rain.

Bye Bye Pride
And out on the bay
The current is strong
A boat can go lost.
But I didn't know someone
Could be so lonesome
Didn't know a heart
Could be tied up
And held for ransom
Until you take your shoes
And go outside, stride over stride
Walk to that tide because
The door is open wide

"Was There Anything I Could Do?"

2:01 PM ET | 11- 7-2008 | permalink

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Post NYC

I arrived in New York City last Friday -- Halloween. Each time I emailed friends to announce my impending visit, their excitement was paired with the borderline-admonishing reply, "How, then, will you vote?" Once they learned that Oregon votes by mail, all amiability was restored.

I don't like Halloween -- at least not the way it's been interpreted as an adult-themed party. All the costumes that look sophisticated and clever around 8 p.m. look ridiculous at 3 a.m., when you're drunk. Not removing the clown makeup or your "Jason from Friday the 13th" mask on the subway ride home in the middle of the night is not dedication; it's creepy. And making a Centipede wear high heels and fishnets and show a little thigh just isn't fair to arthropods.

Then I went to a Saturday Night Live taping and watched "musical guest" David Cook. It was anti-music. It was the California Raisins.

But Halloween and the small prune that is David Cook was last year, wasn't it? A lifetime ago.

I knew that, when I left for the East Coast, I would return home to Portland with a new president-elect. In my head were two plane rides: one long and one insufferable. But last week, when I posed the question about what would constitute the soundtrack of victory, I don't think any of us realized that we wouldn't even need music if Obama won. When I left the election party I attended, the streets were filled with the sounds of honking horns, screams, laughter and the banging of pots and pans. Music, yes, but of our own creation. Once I made it to Union Square, I magically became tolerant of the Bacchanalia I usually associate with drum circles, Hemp Fests and Renaissance Fairs.

A few images from my night:

It's been said that better music is made under Republican administrations, so I do wonder what lies ahead on that front. But, for now, let's just worry about puppies.

1:05 PM ET | 11- 6-2008 | permalink

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