Father John Misty "Only Son Of The Ladies Man"

Speaking of me inadvertently saying something unnecessarily stupid resulting in more work for me . . .

Somewhere along the line I thought it would be a great idea for mvy to have a "station blog."  Something that was less personally focused than this blog (or the ones Jess and Jer Bear write) and was instead dedicated to the things going on programming-wise.

Everyone thought it was a great idea.

So guess who's writing it most days . . .

But it suddenly became more than worth it, the moment I found video below.

See, I was putting together some posts to preview artists coming to Newport Folk Fest 2013, and when I got around to writing a post for Father John Misty I knew I wanted to find the video of him singing "Only Son Of The Ladies Man" when he appeared on David Letterman.

As I recalled, his performance was so sexy, if I were a woman I'd be afraid it would impregnate me.

As Youtube is wont to do, it put some interesting FJM-related links up next to the Letterman performance, and so I thought I'd check out one of the interviews.

Within the first few seconds, I nearly turned it off as you could see pretty early on that this interviewer was going to perform an ironic interview.  (Or is that an "ironic" interview?  Or should "ironic" be italicized?  I'm not detached enough to know.)  But I kept watching, because J Tillman (FJM's real name) was giving thoughtful, funny answers, while being sincere instead of ironic.

I won't say anymore, other than to implore you to watch this video, as I found myself crying laughing by the end.  All credit to the interviewer, who rolls with the interview as it spins from a contrived start to realness that's the exact opposite of ironic.

Enjoy!


(The interview is NSFW)


Hear "Only Son Of The Ladies Man" on Youtube.


Hear the hilarious interview on Youtube.

The Minions "I Swear"

We took the kids to see "Despicable Me 2" at the movie theater last night.

I started thinking about what a different experience going to the movies is for our kids, compared to how it was when my wife and I were the same age.

When we were young, there were no DVDs or VHS.  When we were their age, if you wanted to see a movie, you had to go to a movie theater.

My kids, at ages 3 and 5, have seen dozens of movies.  And they've seen some of those movies, dozens of times.  Such is the way of the DVD era.

I can't think of ANY movie that I saw more than once, before the age of 10, except for the very rare movie that segued to television.

On the flip side, my kids have only been to a movie theater a couple of times.  And their experience of watching a movie in a theater is shaped by how they are used to watching a movie at home.  

Getting them to sit still for 90 minutes is a challenge, as "watching a movie" for them usually includes bouncing on the couch, moving around, perhaps acting out scenes . . .

Getting them to stay quiet for 90 minutes is also a challenge, because in your living room, there's no expectation of quiet like there is in a movie theater.

That said, last night the kids were pretty darn well-behaved, and in a theater filled with other kids their age, so the expectation of quiet wasn't quite the same as if we'd taken them to "Schindler's List" or anything.

They had a blast watching the film's abundant physical humor courtesy of the "Minions," but I imagine there were more than a few parts that sailed right over their heads.

I guess adding in references to 90s Boy Band videos and The Village People (which came at the end of the movie), were the filmmakers attempt at a nod to those parents who'd spent the last hour and a half holding their kids in their laps, and quietly answering the question "Why is he doing that?" every 2 minutes.


Hear "I Swear" on Youtube.


Hear "YMCA" on Youtube.

Alison Krauss "Paper Airplane" (live)

I was a pretty smart little kid.  Sometimes too smart for my own good.  And sometimes so smart, I was stupid.

Here's a little life lesson for the other youngsters out there . . .

When I was in 5th grade, I didn't much like school.  Not that I found it hard.  Actually, the opposite.  I found a lot of it stupid and unnecessary.

By 6th grade, my marks were slipping.  When questioned by my parents about this, I explained that the work wasn't very challenging.  In fact it was insultingly dull a lot of the time and I just didn't feel like doing it.

"I'm bored," I said.  Stupidly.

And that is how I found myself in a private, Catholic School for the start of 7th grade.

In my town, the kids that graduated from The Immaculate Conception had a reputation for being better educated, and better disciplined than their public school counterparts.

Kids, if your parents ask you how school is going, saying it's too easy and your bored is a one-way ticket to a whole new world.


She stood in front of our class, rocking back and forth on her heels.  Tongue in her cheek.  Staring us down.

I felt myself break a light sweat.

It was my first day in Catholic School.  And it was her first day as principal of that Catholic School.  She was trying to intimidate us.  She was doing a good job.

Now, I'd had plenty of interactions with nuns.  My dad's sister is a Sister and we're very close.  When my parents would go out of town, my Auntie the nun and some of her nun friends would come and spend the weekend with us.

Up to that point, my interactions with nuns consisted of them in pastel sport coats, watching episodes of Dallas while eating popcorn in my basement.

I hadn't had any run-ins with the nun stereotype, until now.

She gave a bit of a speech from the front of the class on that first day.  The gist of it was that she would tolerate no bullshit.

She didn't actually say the word bullshit.  And honestly, I was afraid to even think the word bullshit lest she read my thoughts.

Her taciturn manner set the tone for the school.  Even the lay teachers seemed a bit cowed by her presence.


But there were a lot of lighter things about the school.  One of my best friends from the neighborhood also went there.  And the I.C. had a basketball team---the funding for Public School 7th and 8th grade sports had just been cut.  I met a lot of great kids.  My 7th grade lay teacher was actually pretty attractive.  School wasn't fun, per se, but it wasn't boring anymore either.

In fact, it was pretty challenging.  Which was why the breaks throughout the day were such a relief.

After a morning of heads in a book, we'd get a bathroom break and 15 minutes or so to talk, finish up projects and prepare for the next stretch of learning.

Some kids would talk about what they watched on television the night before.  Some kids played that paper-triangle-football game.  Some studious kids kept studying.

I took advantage of the privacy of the bathroom.

Not to go the bathroom, of course.  No, I used my bathroom breaks to make paper airplanes.

I'm not exactly sure if I started this, but no doubt I was quick to become a driving force behind it.  Or rather, a flying force.

While we were released to go to the boys bathroom, a few friends and I would bring a piece of paper along.  And in the bathroom, we'd each quickly fold our paper airplanes.

Our classroom and the adjacent bathroom was on the 2nd floor of the school, and the little window in the bathroom overlooked a small stretch of courtyard, a brick wall, and beyond that Green Street.

We'd take turns throwing our creations out the window, to see whose plane could go the farthest.  If you could get it over the brick wall, you were psyched.  If the wind took it and carried it out to the street, well that was a day to remember.

Soon this activity became more elaborate, more competitive.  Kids experimented with different aerodynamic designs.  Sometimes the paper-airplane crafting would happen in the early morning, before class, allowing some time to decorate the plane with slogans or markers/colors.  Certain kids developed reputations for being "the best" due to their constant success at distance.

This continued day after day after day after day, until . . .


She stood at the front of the class.  She was trying to intimidate us.  She was doing a good job.

In her hands---as she silently eyeballed the classroom---was a brown paper shopping bag.

It overflowed with paper airplanes.

"These were picked up by the janitor, from the courtyard below this classroom.  Based on some of the writing written on them . . ."

I was frozen in place.  I did not move a muscle.

Sometimes we'd just draw pictures or write slogans on the planes.  But on more than one occasion, I had written my name on the wings.  "Finn Flyer."  "PJ Express."  Stuff like that.  I know that my cohorts had done the same, on occasion.  If she'd found one of these planes, we were toast.

". . . I believe I know who the culprits are."

I was toast.

"This ends today.  Not another single paper airplane in that courtyard."

She glared at us.

But she didn't say anymore.

She didn't call out my name.  Or anyone else's.

She glared for a moment more.  And then she sternly strode out of the classroom.

And that's when I realized that she had no idea who was involved.  Or at least she was uncertain enough, that she wasn't prepared to call anyone specific out.  She was going to make a general claim, and see if anyone cracked.

Before that day, it had never really occurred to me that an adult authority figure would stand in front of a class full of kids and say they knew the truth about something, when in fact it was . . .

. . . I knew I could say the word aloud in my head, and she couldn't hear it . . .

Bullshit. 


Hear the song on Youtube.

The Decemberists "Valerie Plame"

Here's another Weekend Post:

I went looking for another song with Valerie in the title, for a second "Weekend Post," and found this one.  Though it's only a couple of years old, it's already a forgotten little gem with a great "Hey Jude" call-back.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Weekend posts are a chance to revisit songs that have happy memories, not of anything in particular, other than just hearing the tunes.

Many of these songs were tracks that I played during my 90s stint as an Alternative/Modern Rock radio show.  They're tunes that I hardly hear these days, but are fun to revisit.

Click on the "Weekend Posts" label below, to see other posts like this.

Material Issue "Valerie Loves Me"

Here's another Weekend Post:

The name Valerie has come up a few times this week, as the station is getting assistance with our new non-profit fundraising plans from a woman named Valerie.  And I wrote about a singer with the same first name a few days ago.

Made me think of this one . . .


Hear the song on Youtube.

Weekend posts are a chance to revisit songs that have happy memories, not of anything in particular, other than just hearing the tunes.

Many of these songs were tracks that I played during my 90s stint as an Alternative/Modern Rock radio show.  They're tunes that I hardly hear these days, but are fun to revisit.

Click on the "Weekend Posts" label below, to see other posts like this.

The Wild Feathers "Left My Woman"

It's always an exciting time when we get an artist to do a show on our behalf.

More likely than not, if we get offered a national act, it's because they are up-and-comers.  And that means that our knowledge of the band may be limited.

The last week has been a little like high school finals week, with a lot of cramming.

We're very psyched about The Wild Feathers coming to the Island for a free show on the porch of the Harborview in Edgartown.  Barbara Dacey had seen the band in concert back in the Spring and was very impressed.

But the rest of the staff had only really heard the single "The Ceiling."  So the last few days I've been drinking from a firehose, trying to hear (and see) as much of them as I can.

Professionally, I do that so I can make our show sound exciting.  Personally, going into a show having heard a lot of the band, makes the show a better listen.

So if you're thinking of coming Saturday (and you should), listen up!


Hear the song on Youtube.

Bruce Springsteen "4th Of July, Asbury Park (Sandy)"

I always thought Bruce did a great job of capturing a certain melancholy feeling about the 4th Of July from the perspective of a young adolescent male.

When you're a kid, Independence Day is about parades and fireworks and your nascent understanding of patriotism.  It's hot and fun and loud and great.

When you're an adult, you enjoy those things too, but you also have a fully developed sense of what Independence Day means to you, which may or may not involve a mixture of pride, respect, sadness of loss, wonder or gratefulness.  You may just be eating a hot dog, but its likely to be a reflective hot dog.

But when you're a young man, you're too old for parades, and too young and stupid to fully embrace the emotional weight and/or complexities of the day.  You experience the day in that self-absorbed way that young men experience, well, most things.

The 4th Of July is kind of like a summertime New Year's Eve.  It never lives up to the hype.  You never have as much fun as you think you are going to have.  Sitting and watching fireworks just makes you feel a little bit lonely, especially when you start thinking about that waitress you were seeing.  The whole night feels like time is running out.  And if you do meet a girl, something about the whole thing smacks of desperation . . .

Bruce paints this picture quite vividly.

Happy 4th!


Hear the song on Youtube.

Elvis Costello "Indoor Fireworks"

I think at this point, the truth can be told.

Probably my least favorite gig in radio, is covering fireworks.

I mean, c'mon, is there anything less designed to be broadcast on radio? 

(Go ahead and pause for a moment, because I know you want to top me with answers like: Staring Contest, Mime Olympics, Golf)

And yet, every year the stations I have worked for have been involved in local fireworks.  And that has required a DJ (me), to be on-site broadcasting live.

A fireworks event is a big game of hurry up and wait.

The event holders want to get the fireworks going as soon as possible.

But they have to wait for the sunset.

And they have to make sure the winds are right. 

And the technicians are in position.

And the safety checks have been performed.

And the fire department is ready.

And . . . and . . . and . . . I'm sure load of other important things.

All the while, they keep telling me, "We're almost ready to go.  Make sure they are ready back at the station.  Are you ready?  Really ready to go?  Because we're going in a minute.  As soon as everybody's ready.  Are you ready?"

This goes on for 30 to 45 minutes.

In the meantime, as the DJ in the field, I am speaking by phone with the radio station.

Back at the radio station, someone (often Alison) is playing CD after CD waiting for the event to start.  When they're ready---really ready---she'll play the coordinated "Fireworks Soundtrack" that has been designed by the fireworks company to match the display.  In the meantime, she's playing relevant tracks, picked by me.

Like "Fourth Of July" by Dave Alvin.  Or "Independence Day" by Bruce Springsteen.

"Are you ready to go?"

Yes, I say.

"Really ready?"

Yes, I say.

"Okay.  So are we.  Tell them to start."

Wait!

Alison is playing "Indoor Fireworks."  She's not just going to stop the song in the middle.  Let's wait for it to end.

"How much longer?"

I dunno.  It's almost over, I think.

"Are they ready back at the station?"

Yes.

"Is it almost over now?"

It doesn't seem like it.

"How long IS this song?"

At this moment, it feels like it's about 4 hours long.

"Is it going to end soon?"

I'm sure it will.

"We're waiting on you guys."

Yes, I know.

"We're ready."

Yes, I know.

"'Indoor Fireworks.'  He just keeps saying that."

Almost over.

"Is this it?  Is that the end?"

That's it.

"Are we ready?"

Let do this.

"GIVE ME THE COUNTDOWN!"

And from there, radio listeners can enjoy a half-hour of "The 1812 Overture" with the distant faint popping sounds of what probably are some spectacular fireworks, if you could somehow only see them on an audio system.


Hear the song on Youtube.

Valerie June "You Can't Be Told"

It's hard to not be cynical.

Like when a superhero movie has great success, and then the next year a dozen superhero movies come out.

Or when a few cupcake stores do surprisingly well, and suddenly there are cupcake stores everywhere.

It makes you cynical, because it feels like someone is just cashing in on a trend.

This happens in music all the time.

Remember in the 90s when a couple of Big Band sounding records broke, and suddenly there were dozens of bands making swing music?

In the last 18 months, The Black Keys went from being a cool under the radar indie band, to headlining arenas.  And Alabama Shakes came from absolutely nowhere, to have one of the best, and most successful rock records of 2012.

So it's hard not to hear some record executive shouting, "Get me a chick that sounds like Britney Howard---and make her a looker---backed by a band that sounds like The Black Keys, pronto!!!"

That's what I hear in my head, when I hear Valerie June.

And I suppose it's not fair.

Of course it sounds like The Black Keys.  June's record is produced by Dan Auerbach.  So that sound/reference makes sense.

And she's been performing live since 2000, loooong before The Black Keys or Alabama Shakes were making money, headlines or even records.  So to say she's hopping on a trend isn't fair.

Yet, when I think about adding this song as a single, its hard not to be stuck in that reactive place of "this sounds too much like some other, very distinct stuff."

As a listener, could you hard this as its own thing?  Or is this just another cupcake store?


Hear the song on Youtube.

Bachman Turner Overdrive "Takin' Care Of Business"

When you are wandering around Martha's Vineyard, you might be inclined to look at the folks around you and put them into one of two categories:

Locals or tourists.

And yes, that covers a pretty big portion of who you might see.  But there IS one other group:

Commuters.

Every day, Martha's Vineyard imports a pretty large selection of folks who work all day on the Island, and head home to their families on the mainland.  These folks tend to either work in construction (in good times there is more construction work available on-Island, than there are construction workers on-Island), or work in 9 to 5 type jobs that are necessary to a community but don't really pay enough to make Island living affordable.  A ferry ride over to the Island in the early morning is filled with electricians, nurses, roofers, banker workers, UPS drivers, dental hygienists and such.

I heard the Bachman Turner Overdrive song "Takin' Care Of Business" the other day, and thought about the commuters.  I mean, it's a good working song for anyone, anywhere, but there are a few specifics that would make it easily transferable to a ferry commuter.

You get up every morning

From your 'larm clock's warning
Take the 8:15 into the city

(There IS an 815 ferry from Woods Hole to Vineyard Haven)

There's a whistle up above
And people pushin', people shovin'
And the girls who try to look pretty

(The ferry has a whistle.  And especially when the boat is filled with tourists, there's plenty of pushing and shoving.  Yes, you can see some of the women doing their makeup on the boat)

And if your train's on time
You can get to work by nine
And start your slaving job to get your pay 

(Yes, the 815 boat does get in at 9)

If you ever get annoyed
Look at me I'm self-employed
I love to work at nothing all day
And I'll be Taking care of business (every day)
Taking care of business (every way)
I've been taking care of business (it's all mine)
Taking care of business and working overtime
Work out 

It probably needs a new verse about being stuck on the Island due to ferry cancellations caused by high winds.  But otherwise, it works!

Hear the song on Youtube.