When I saw Amanda Palmer live, I didn't really expect her to play any Dresden Dolls songs, which was kind of dumb considering The Dresden Dolls play her songs and she probably likes her songs. She played Coin-Operated Boy, naturally, because she isn't one of those asshole musicians who refuses to play her "one big hit" (or refuses to play their best song, like The Essex Green who I will consider eternal assholes for shaking their heads at the audience when they shouted out that they wanted to hear Sixties) but what really did it for me was her playing Bad Habit, off the Dolls' debut album. Before the show I quietly hoped that she'd play Bad Habit, but I knew that it was probably just a random unpopular album track that no one cared about so I didn't get my hopes up.

Arguably my favorite song about self-mutilation... wait... OK, the only song about self-mutilation within my collection, Palmer really gets me with this line: "When I jab a sharpened object in / choirs of angels seem to sing / hymns of hate in memorandum." I can't relate to the whole cutting yourself thing, never got into that when I was a teenage girl in high school (you see, I was never a teenage girl), but I can relate to other things she says, like, "even if I quit, there's not a chance in hell I'd stop," which is another one of those lyrics that really, in the end, almost makes no sense at all, but the feeling of it is relatable. I know what that's like.

I like to think that her nonsensical mention of "Vaseline" is a reference to Elastica. If you understand why I say that, then a cookie for you! If anyone knows of any other good songs about self-mutiliation, then you should totally shout them out in the comments.

Site News: I've added those nifty Amazon overlays to the album art when you mouse over so it's more obvious that it's a link to Amazon. Staires had 100 visitors yesterday! I'm very happy, and I hope you're happy, too. I'm also happy that I got this book back yesterday, after a year, as well.

Joe Strummer was a co-founding member, and singer, of The Clash. I always forget that when I play this song for people. I sit around for a good couple of minutes hemming and hawing over which band he was in. No matter what I say, people are surprised, 'cause this isn't a Clash song. This isn't even really a Joe Strummer song, as it sort of sticks out at the beginning of his album.

What matters is that this is an awesome song, full of the kind of spirit that makes you wanna jump up and spin your lady around amid a big group of people, in some distant town where all the leaves are turning orange and you know everyones name and no one is afraid to get wasted and dance like an idiot. Akron/Family's "Ed Is A Portal" (maybe I'll post it tomorrow) is a good companion piece to this, though where as Johnny Appleseed has lyrics that are full of poignant messages of equality and preservation, Ed is a Portal is just nonsensical fun.

Site News: In the comments yesterday, Pace left a comment saying that he bought The Olivia Tremor Control's Black Foliage Volume 1 (I assume) based on my recommendation of The Sylvan Screen. This is awesome and just the kind of reaction I could hope for.

Twitter user @dberlind hopes for "buy album" links and I figure I'll figure out how to easily work those into posts from now on. I didn't figure people liked those, that site owners just added them in the hopes of making revenue, so I didn't bother. Guess I will!

New Twitter Followers: I'm using Twollo to automatically find people like, well, you, probably, if you're reading this. It's a service that automatically follows people who are discussing certain topics, so I'm having it add people who are mentioning "music" or "mp3" in their Twitters. I am not trying to spam anyone, nor am I selling anything, I just figured it would be cool to test it out and see if anyone hears any music they like. The response I'm getting from Twitter users is great. Thanks!

This is my #1 song of 2008, listened to more than anything else. The Dodos came in as #1 on my music of 2008 post on my eljay. This is probably the quintessential Dodos song, though it doesn't feature any of the loud yelling / echoing / screaming of Visiter, it's still a great example of their teenage boy style of songwriting.

What does "boy you wish you hadn't dialed before you wrung" mean? I mean, it's meant to mean "now you feel bad about marrying this bitch" but what does it really mean? You can't wrung without dialing. I don't know. Sometimes I hate lyrics. I'm all for metaphors and similes or whatever but at least have them make sense. He could have used something like "boy you wish you just kept getting the milk for free" or something. Whatever.

1.) This is the first song (the 20th posted here!) that I almost feel bad for posting this early into Staires!'s life, as I genuinely love it and wish everyone could listen to it. Unfortunately only about five people listen to anything here on any given day so this'll probably go overlooked...

2.) The first 1:30 of this song is just silence with random sounds, but not obnoxious sounds, but I'm not really sure why. It adds nothing to the song, and I have iTunes configured to skip the first minute and a half. Feel free to skip ahead if the player gives you the option. Otherwise start it up and relax.

A few years ago (four years now?) I stumbled upon The Olivia Tremor Control and fell in love. One of the few artists where I went out of my way (all the way to ebay) to actually physically collect all their albums. I have an original issue of their debut album with the useless bonus disc and everything. I really like them a lot.

Is this my favorite song by OTC? Probably not, but maybe. I like the topic of it, in that it's about the same thing all the songs I love are about: isolation, loneliness, ultimate power.

The chorus of Will Cullent Hearts at the end really rocks. If anyone can explain to me what the "seventh and a half floor" comment means on Songmeanings, a cookie to you.

Not much to write about this one really. Just a fun tune that makes me happy on sunny days while driving around doing what this song is about.

I saw these guys open for Amanda Palmer and they were OK. I was intrigued, but didn't like them enough to buy their album on the spot. The singer/guitarist has this twitchy demeanor on stage. Their bassist is this tiny little dude (not a midget/dwarf, I think, but really short) and he wears this huge acoustic bass; their second guitarist is a gigantic guy (not obese, I think, but with a good size gut on him) who plays a variety of smaller instruments (mandolin, banjo) that are absolutely dwarfed by him. It's a cool little bit of imagery, though I'm sure it's not done that way on purpose.

I like a couple of their songs a lot, and it probably took me longer than it ever has so far to pick a song by them to post. First I was going to post this, but then cycle through a variety (Red Hands, Black Dresses, Bottom of the Lake) before I settled on my original pick. I like how this song closes a lot. It's got a good variety of moods and really sums up the things the band explore on the album. The track after this, Slowed Down Trip to Hell, is also really great. The album as a whole is paced really well.

Check it out if you like this song, this isn't one of those bands where you listen to one of their songs and then find an album full of songs nothing like it that all suck. Thank goodness.

I stopped being a fan of the holidays when I was very young, so young that I can't actually remember when it last was that I didn't feel somewhat discontent the whole time leading up to and during the actual holiday. Not sure why it is, really, and when I was a teenager I assumed it was one of those things that would pass as I age, but it hasn't yet. A lot of other things have (like failing to think before I speak, now I don't speak at all), but not the holiday thing. Oh well, maybe next year.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

I spent my nineteenth year in San Diego, living pretty much alone (in the room the size of a small walk-in closet), with no friends or contact with people outside of work. It was lonely, and as I get older I look back and realize that it made me a little nuts. I discovered a lot of music in this period, though, and one band was XTC.

I had a huge crush on this partially deaf girl I worked with named Sarah (one of many Sarahs in my life, but that rings true for anybody: pretty sure there's a reason love interests in the media are always named Sarah, it's such a common name). She rocked dual hearing aids and we made a nice team at the hospital I worked at: if she didn't understand something someone said, she would just look at me and I would repeat it loudly and clearly. I consider this a skill, now, since I would often repeat things I wasn't even listening to. Not that I can pay partial attention to anything these days and retain it at all.

I would drive to work, hearing this song, and it would give me hope that some day I'd take her out with me somewhere and maybe hold hands or something. I'm not sure why. It's just a reflection of my lunacy at the time. I never even made a proper move on her. It's OK: I later learned that she had hairy legs and had a boyfriend she never told anybody about in the whole year I was subtly making passes at her. I ended up sleeping with my supervisor instead.

Apple Venus, as an album, is lush and vibrant, almost too much so. (Look forward to "Easter Theatre" come that time of the year.) Any time this song, or any others from the album, come on in my car, I skip them if other people are present. I don't assume anyone would want to hear anything other than XTC's 80's output, and even then, not quite sure.

Point: Andy Partridge has the best (living) voice in music, so I decree. It's a shame he's turning into an old hermit who doesn't record normal music that normal people can listen to anymore.

A little late today. My Google Phone did not remind me to post a song today this morning. How sad is it that I am entirely reliant upon my cellphone to notify me of tasks I do every day lest I forget?

Eels is my #1 favoritest band in the whole wide world, so it is with great deliberation that I choose the first Eels song to upload. Luckily I have sent this song to a few people through email, so it exists for me even when I am not at home and do not have my musical pool to choose from (I am at work as I write this). I could write something about this song but I can't think of anything.

It is simply pretty.

I met my girlfriend for the first time at an Okkervil River show. I had heard of them, but had never really listened to them (and when I did, years ago, it didn't leave much of an impression on me). My girlfriend, then just a girl curious as to whether my demeanor on the phone could be matched by my demeanor in reality, had never heard them at all. They impressed us both, though on later listens only two songs of theirs would end up in my collection, and this is one of them.

I'm sure we've all loved stones (whether it be an inaccessible guy or gal, or a dead one, as people on SongMeanings postulate), and equally sure that we've all loved people who have been in love with stones. Will Sheff--a "poet and a student of literature" according to a commenter on SongMeanings--crafts something slow and beautiful, but not necessarily sad, about the dilemma of such a situation, and then carries it into the realm of fantasy only to really nail down the hopelessness of the situation.

Good stuff. I am glad that while Will Sheff was singing the words--all skinny, sweaty, and suited--to a song that summed up quite a few of my relationships (you can hold me and cry with me later if you so choose), I was putting my arms around someone who wasn't a stone, who wasn't in love with a stone, for the first time.

Before there was Eels, there was E's solo project, steeped in reverb, flowery strings, (I realize now that this song actually doesn't have strings on it, one of the few on the album that doesn't. -Ed) and lyrics surprisingly less dark than what was to come. I guess as Los Angeles got into Mark Everett's blood (and as other things worsened in his life), his lyrics got less silly. Not that there is anything wrong with silly, nor with reverb nor with strings, because this song is still fun to listen to, especially when you're in your late teens and you're lonely, driving down the street, missing a girl whose face you can't quite picture just yet, but you're sure that you'll bump into her one day.

(And then you bump into her a few years later, have a sordid affair, fall in love, wind up with an STD when she cheats on you, live the rest of your life sad and broken, always wondering what went wrong, drinking PBR, sitting on the front porch, shouting racial epithets at everyone who walks by, staying up late at night watching My So Called Life marathons, masturbating while crying over pubescent Claire Danes but convincing yourself it's OK because she's not actually that age anymore. You sad bastard.)

Peter Gabriel used to be a man of big ideas. Not that he isn't now (I guess), it's just that his ideas are benign and more of the "let's feed rice to starving children" variety than the "let's write a prog-rock concept album about New York street punks" variety, and that's sad. There's nothing wrong with "Down to Earth", his song from WALL-E that is nominated for a Golden Globe, I mean aside from the fact that it sounds like something Phil Collins would have aborted from his sandy vagina about 10 years ago, but that neutered world music shit (which dominates Gabriel's work even when he's not writing songs for plucky CG kids movies--that is, plucky CG kids movies which manage to make me tear up and watch them over and over again) pales when compared to something like, say, Down the Dolce Vita.

According to Songfacts:

This introduced the characters Aeron and Gorham, who set out on a journey across the sea. They would become part of Gabriel's story of Mozo, a mercurial stranger who would come and go, changing people's lives. Mozo would appear in "On The Air," "Exposure", "Red Rain," "Down The Dolce Vita," and "That Voice Again," but the Mozo story as a stage production or movie never developed.

I never knew that. I never cared, either. (Still don't.) What I do care about however is how ridiculously over-the-top this song is. It's got guitar that sounds about an octave shift away from being 1970's porn music, with the The London Symphony Orchestra doing grandiose sweeps and builds. It's almost got a disco feel to it, I can imagine Gabriel in spandex bell-bottoms dancing across the stage while singing this.

But this song was a "big idea". Peter Gabriel's first solo album is full of them. Every song is a big idea. Maybe Gabriel just used up all his big ideas on his early solo work. I guess it's unfair to expect a 58 year old guy to be as creative as he was at 26, but damn, why? Gabriel, give us another self-titled album. When you started titling them properly it all went to shit. (I mean, aside from Scratch which just sucks and continues to be the only Peter Gabriel album I do not physically own.)

* I am a big Peter Gabriel fan and nothing in this post is meant to be insulting to the man. I like So a lot, of course, and I enjoy songs like Steam and Big Town despite myself and the strange looks people give me when I play them.

This song is pure sex. One of my ex-girlfriends sent it to me before we met and I always thought, "Man, a girl who listens to a song like this and sends it to me must want to fuck really bad and be awesome at it." But, no, that was not really the case. Oh well.

I keep trying to find words for this song, I mean, my own words, to write down, but it's tough sometimes. I'll just fumble through it as best I can.

In 1960, Buddy Holly had been dead for a year and the record company was churning out posthumous releases and on the second one there was this song. I can't get exact data on when it was recorded (a page online says 1958), but it always floors me at how ahead of his time Buddy Holly was. I mean, this is a wimpy folk song on par with something you'd hear these days (or at least 10+ years later), though the lyrics are distinctly Buddy Holly, but he wrote this before The Beatles, before Bob Dylan, while Elvis was making his money playing other people's rock'n'roll. This was before Vietnam, before hippies, back when you could still drive 100mph on freeways without wearing your safety belt... But I guess the coolest thing is that in 1958, the Peace symbol was originally designed.

The symbol itself is a combination of the semaphoric signals for the letters "N" and "D," standing for Nuclear Disarmament. In semaphore the letter "N" is formed by a person holding two flags in an upside-down "V," and the letter "D" is formed by holding one flag pointed straight up and the other pointed straight down. These two signals imposed over each other form the shape of the peace symbol.

I did not know that.

I'm a big Harry Nilsson fan, so you'll be hearing a lot of him around here if you stick around. According to iTunes this is my most played Nilsson track. It's a unique song, in that it's about absolutely nothing relevant to me at all, and there's nothing else like it in the whole eccentric and vast Nilsson catalog (and probably not in Randy Newman's catalog though I am less familiar with his). But when it comes on while I'm driving down the street, I can't help but sing the whole thing.

I am seeing AFP tonight at the Henry Fonda Theatre. I am more excited than I have any real right to be. I saw The Dresden Dolls play at the Orpheum a few years ago and it was one of the best and most expensive shows I'd seen. Supposedly Palmer is going to have Jason Webley with her, so that'll be a nice treat.

Amanda Palmer speaks directly to some deeply cynical, sarcastic, and endlessly narcissistic art student lurking within me. Her lyrics often have multiple meanings (depending on the song) but still tell a coherent story. With songs like Sex Changes, Girl Anachronism, Lonesome Organist Rapes Page-Turner, and this one, Palmer hits some manic fever pitch and I go absolutely mad for it every time. If you need lyrics, she's got them up herself (although her own transcriptions of her own lyrics seem to be rife with errors and inaccuracies).

See you at the show tonight if you're there.

Note: http://2008.staires.org

And I'm allowed to break when my shit's wrapped too tight

I'm a fan of Eve 6. I didn't like their last album so much, but I was sad when they broke up because this track off it is so good. Underneath all the phony studio polish and sad attempts to relive their one major success, there was always something more on each successive album. Their songwriting was never stupid--it was so smart that when their second album came out they had a page on their website specifically defining words and explaining the songs' turns of phrase to their teenage fans--and they kept experimenting and developing. It's good to hear that two of the three original members are touring again, it'll be interesting to see if they go back to trying to become a commercial success or decide, instead, to go the route the songwriting leads them in.

I've never listened to Forever Changes. I've meant to, I've downloaded a few different copies of it, but I've never gotten through it. I've started listening, but never close enough to remember what I heard before I got distracted. Considering a lot of people seem to tout it as the be-all-end-all of psychedelia (or, according to Mojo, the second greatest psychedelic album of all time) you'd think I'd be all about it, but no, I'm not.

Instead, I've listened to this song more times than I think is appropriate (31 times, that's an hour and nineteen minutes of my life I've spent listening to this song). I listened to it a lot at the end of my last relationship, because it made me laugh at myself. Being this distraught over a woman is simply hysterical.

This song has been playing a lot in the last few days so I figured I should post it.

I was friends with this girl who I thought I was in love with, but I wasn't. She was falling in love with some guy who I, of course, thought was a gigantic loser. We were driving through some canyons, and I played this song for her because I'd recently discovered it. She turned toward me, somewhat dramatically about half way through it, and asked, "Is there a message in this for me?"

Not lying, I responded, "No."

By the date added in my iTunes, that was about 16 months ago. She's still with the guy. He gave her an STD and they're both miserable and feel like they're stuck with each other. I guess maybe there was a message in it for her.

Scott Reeder was the bassist for Kyuss and Unida, two stoner rock bands I've never really been a fan of. I've just never really got into stoner rock. Reeder released a solo album in 2006 that I thought was largely forgettable except for this song, track two. (I haven't skipped this song in the two years it has been on my iPod. Guess that's saying something.)

I saw these guys open for The Dodos; the percussionist bangs on a homemade drum kit made of a box, a wash basin, cardboard, chains, and a tambourine. This is one of those songs where the feeling of it transcends the relatively rudimentary lyrics (about missing an opportunity with a hot girl and then seizing it later on--not that there is anything wrong with lyrics like "then i saw what was behind / oh you've got a nice ass / i'll remember that forever"). This is a good song for a tranquil mid-day canyon drive.

According to how iTunes sorts things, this is the first song I added to my iPod in April of 2004. Definitely a good example of why Harvey Danger's songwriting elevates them above a simple "one hit wonder" of the late 90's. If you head over to their website you can download their utterly sublime 2005 release "Little By Little" for the low low price of absolutely free.