Year-ender benders: 10 4 07

First, a disclaimer: These year-end music lists are wildly overdone. That very fact is what's kept me from ever doing one of these before, and what might keep me from ever doing one again. That said, it's been a very good music year for me, all around. I've seen more shows and been introduced to more new music than ever before and I've even played a little music myself - poorly but happily - on several occasions.

Basically, if you know me, you know I'm a big music fan. I'm not a music snob; not that there's anything wrong with those folks - some of them are my very good friends, and they're among the people who've introduced me to some of the best music I've come across. (Thanks, Quentin.)

So, with that said, here's my top 10 songs of 2007. I'm posting them now because I'm on vacation this week and I fully expect December to be chaotic. My twist on the traditional list: The first five are from bands I was lucky enough to see in person this year. The second five are ones I discovered, rediscovered or was introduced to otherwise this year. Clearly, they weren't all released in 2007. And they're listed in no particular order.

Whether you're a music snob, fan or novice, I hope you find something here to enjoy. It's been fun listening to all of it this year.

1. "West"
Lucinda Williams, West
June 10, Crystal Ballroom

We went to see her on the night of my 30th birthday. I don't think she played this one, but it's one of my bittersweet favorites from her latest release nonetheless. It includes these two verses, which are a fitting description of one of the driving forces - to me, at least - behind our migration here almost a decade ago now:

Come out west and see
The best that it could be
I know you won’t stay permanently
But come out west and see

Who knows what the future holds
Or where the cards may fall
But if you don’t come out west and see
You’ll never know at all

I think often of the sentiment behind those lines. In particular, it hits me each time we drive as far west as these roads go - which we don't do nearly often enough - and watch the sun sink into the Pacific.


2. "Impossible Germany"
Wilco, Sky Blue Sky
Aug. 22, Edgefield
Previous post

This was one of the songs I most wanted to hear at what was my most anticipated concert of the year. And about an hour or so into the set - in a night full of great songs - the band delivered just as I'd hoped. My favorite lines remind me of our adventure out here, alone together, each rounding out the other:

This is what love is for
To be out of place
Gorgeous and alone
Face to face

With no larger problems
That need to be erased
Nothing more important than to know
Someone's listening
Now I know, you'll be listening

Great lyrics and my all-time favorite guitar duet, between Jeff Tweedy and Nels Cline. Or as Paste Magazine put it: "(T)he two-and-a-half minutes of vocals are merely the set-up for the three-and-a-half-minute instrumental coda that delivers the emotional impact at which Tweedy’s words have already hinted. ... Their twin melodic lines diverge and converge again and again like lovers seeking both individuality and intimacy, a combination as elusive as 'an impossible Germany, an unlikely Japan.' "

Sappy? Yeah, but it's my list. Don't like it? Make your own.


3. "Your Ex-Lover is Dead"
Stars, Set Yourself on Fire
Nov. 15, Crystal Ballroom

Clearly, sappiness is out the window here - as is any illusion I'm too terribly plugged into the music scene. Although it was released more than three years ago, I hadn't heard the song until this year, and I hadn't seen this band from Montreal until this November. (Can't find an image of the concert poster from that night, so the cover of that particular album appears instead.)

Bottom line, though, is this is a great song for those odd - and here, thankfully, impossible - occasions of running into an ex:

God, that was strange to see you again
Introduced by a friend of a friend
Smiled and said, "Yes, I think we've met before"
In that instant it started to pour,
Captured a taxi despite all the rain
We drove in silence across Pont Champlain
And all of the time you thought I was sad
I was trying to remember your name...

Really, for much of the show, the band was too precious for my liking - with an almost "Breakfast Club"-like vibe full of '80s earnestness, complete with the members hurling flowers into the crowd. So that's what made it all the more delicious when the band delivers such jaded lyrics amid such sweeping, elegant, layered and almost orchestral music. And it was all topped off by what my friend Jann calls the "live-music experience moment" when Torquil Campbell and Amy Millan turned their mics to the crowd at the song's peak and hundreds of us all chanted along, joyfully:

Live through this, and you won't look back...
Live through this, and you won't look back...
Live through this, and you won't look back...

For those of us lucky enough to have lived through those bad ex's and moved on to domestic bliss, those lines are all the sweeter.


4. "Road to Joy"
Bright Eyes, I'm Wide Awake It's Morning
May 2, Crystal Ballroom

I was tempted to pick "Cleanse Song" from this year's "Cassadaga," which I like very much, and which was all the trippier amid the all-white stage setup/band attire and psychedelic-like video backdrop that was running nonstop at this show.

But as I thought back through the shows I saw this year, the version of "Road to Joy" (2005) that Conor Oberst and his crew closed the May 2 show at the Crystal with was the single-best show-stopper I experienced. (Wilco's "Via Chicago" was my favorite live song of the year, but it was the second to last song they played that night.)

"Road" kicks off fast and only gets better, with Oberst coming ever-closer to losing it as he runs through versus like these:

So I'm drinkin', breathin', writin', singin'
Every day I'm on the clock
My mind races with all my longings
But can't keep up with what I got

And so I hope I don't sound too ungrateful
What history gave modern man
A telephone to talk to strangers
Machine guns and a camera lens

So when you're asked to fight a war that's over nothing
It's best to join the side thats gonna win
No one's sure how all of this got started
But we're gonna make 'em goddamn certain how it's gonna end
Oh yeah we will, oh yeah we will!

Then everyone pauses to catch their breath, some militant-like drums come in and then it leads to this:

Well I could have been a famous singer
If I had some one else's voice
But failures always sounded better
Let's fuck it up, boys; make some noise!

Then they did just that, all hell broke loose and the Crystal's floating floor was bouncing like I'd never felt it before as they ran through the song's final verse. My friend Quentin said as we were walking out that he was initially surprised to hear "Road" as a closing song, but I came away thinking it was just about the perfect rock 'n' roll finisher.


5. "Spitting Venom"
Modest Mouse, We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank
March 15, Crystal Ballroom

Image from stop.down @ Flickr

Another great show-stopper, but this time it's from a show I - like many others - remember entirely too little of, unfortunately. Opens with these great lines:

We were spitting venom at most everyone we know
If the damned gave us a road map then we'd know just were to go

From that oh-so-happy opening, the song builds to a near frenzy before coming to an almost complete stop about halfway through. Then the band introduces some horns, then drums, then some Johnny Marr guitar, then Isaac Brock comes back in with these decidedly more optimistic vocals:

Cheer up, baby
It always wasn't quite so bad
For every venom then that came out
The antidote was had

And then - on that night - they pushed everyone the rest of the way into that full-on frenzy before walking off the stage and leaving us all to somehow make our ways home.


6. "Just Like a Woman"
Jeff Buckley, Live at Sin-é (Legacy Edition)
Previous post

My favorite musician covers Bob Dylan. I bought this late on a Friday night in January as my qualms about the impending arrival about 30 began to set in. Was up reading about Buckley and his short 30-year life. Now, here in December, I see it has been covered by Charlotte Gainsbourg and Calexico in "I'm Not There," the new Dylan bio-pic. Out of all the versions - from the original on down - I've since heard, this is far and away my favorite.


7. "Crayon"
Caribou, Up in Flames

Sugary-sweet electronica by mathematician-turned-musician Dan Snaith of Ontario. His group has a new one out this year - "Andorra" - but this 2006 song was my introduction do the band, and it still makes me smile whenever I hear it.




8. "Weird Fishes/Arpeggi"
Radiohead, In Rainbows

My favorite band from college returns with its groundbreaking, screw-The-Man, pay-what-you-want epic album that's sure to be on many best-of lists for the ballsiness of that move alone. I loved "OK Computer" back in the late '90s, and while that one is unsurpassed in overall concept, I have to say I've been wearing this one out from Day One. Especially this track, and the one after it, "All I Need." The layers of sound, led by wave after wave after wave of guitar are almost enough to put you in a trance.




9. "Heretics"
Andrew Bird, Armchair Apocrypha

This one's been stuck in my head since the day I got it as a free download for buying tickets to a now-canceled Decemberists concert. Maybe it's just me, but does anyone else hear a little Lou Reed in Mr. Bird's voice?



And this from a guy who was once associated with the Squirrel Nut Zippers, those swing-dancing, jazz hipsters of the late '90s fame.

10. "We Winter Wrens"
Dolorean, You Can't Win

This little Portland band - recommended by my friend Quentin a few months back - is my favorite find of the year. Their music is, as I wrote a recently, something I can listen to for hours. I'm no man of great faith in any traditional sense, and while their music is full of religious overtones it's still enthralling stuff, to me, at least. Classic lo-fi alt-country. The occasional Wilco-esque sounds don't hurt, of course.

I've been listening to song after song of theirs as I've put this listing together and their selection has been the toughest choice, hands down. They're just all good for the listening. It's a album to put on, hit play and walk away. If I had to pick favorites, I'd go with "We Winter Wrens," "Beachcomber Blues," "33-53.9°N / 118-38.8°W" and the title track - the only and prettiest song I know of to have simply one line and repeat it over and over. In doing so, though, it somehow shifts from a resigned acknowledgment of defeat to a beautiful acceptance of life's unending challenges. (Again, sappy. But it's my list.) All three of their albums, though, are well worthwhile and all too overlooked.

So, for good or bad, that's my list. All of these are available from your favored sources online. Check them out. And let me know what you liked this year.

Can my vacation have a mascot?

I'm on vacation this week, doing some house projects, hitting the gym (I've done almost 50 miles on the bike at midweek - that's good, for me, at least!) and spending what I'm sure Amy would say is entirely too much time online. But in some of that surfing, I learned that this morning the Vancouver 2010 folks unveiled a series of mascots for the Winter Games.

Now, I've thought a lot - too much, some folks might argue (and this post probably confirms) - about sports mascots in the States, in particular about how the controversial images of Washington's NFL team, Cleveland's Major League Baseball team and other such instances are handled. In each of those examples, the imagery focuses on Native American people and associates stereotypical imagery - whether you think they're respectful or not - to them. And my question, always, is why should one group of people be reduced to a stereotype?

Somehow, we don't have any teams named after African Americans, Latinos, Asians or gays. But we have a lot named after Indians and some folks are adamant that those depictions not be changed for a variety of reasons. A few years ago in a great ironic twist, an intramural basketball team at the University of Northern Colorado named itself the "Fighting Whites." (Get your shirts here. Sorry, they don't appear to be available in wife-beaters. That'd be just too much, I suppose.)
All that's a long way of saying I find the imagery on tap for the 2010 Games a refreshing change of pace. Yet again, those Canaduns - as our friend Mike would say - seem to do things right. The main trio along with the official logo all reflect indigenous imagery. Nice to see a little diversity in what will bring unprecedented attention to one of our favorite cities - or favourite, as they'd write - in a few years. And nicer still to see that diversity reflected in a respectful manner, focusing on traditions and cultural stories rather than outdated stereotypes.

Funny thing, though, about the mascots. Lots of folks commenting on the main CBC story this morning and on other Canadian blogs are seriously bent out of shape over these things. For example, one person wrote in to say, "If the kids enjoy them I guess they're all right. But … nobody will know what they are unless it is explained to them."

That's right, wouldn't want to use the international spotlight to in part educate and start conversations about different cultures at an athletic event famous for uniting countries from around the world. No, that'd be bad.

C'mon. My people are from the South in many ways, and I still don't have a clue what the '96 Atlanta mascot, Izzy, was, much less what it meant - though I have seen very similar costumes at gay-pride parades. Yet, somehow those Games went on.

I suppose we should just be thankful the Games aren't in Anchorage or Juneau. If they were, somehow the U.S. organizers might have come up with a logo of a club-wielding Eskimo standing over a dead baby seal and considered themselves culturally enlightened.

Anyhow, like 'em or not, here are the images you'll see a lot of come 2010 and what they mean:

This is the Games' official logo, an inukshuk, a traditional stone sculpture used by Canada's Inuit people. They're calling it Ilanaaq (el la nawk).

These are the Games' official mascots. You know they're going to sell millions of those things between now and the closing ceremonies. As the site says, they are as follows...

Sumi: An animal spirit who lives in the mountains of British Columbia. Like many Canadians, Sumi's background is drawn from many places. He wears the hat of the orca whale, flies with the wings of the mighty thunderbird and runs on the strong furry legs of the black bear. Sumi’s name comes from the Salish word “Sumesh” which means “guardian spirit.” ... Transformation is a common theme in the art and legend of West Coast First Nations. Transformation represents the connection and kinship between the human, animal and spirit world. Revered animals, such as the orca whale, the bear and the thunderbird, are depicted in transformation through masks, totems and other forms of art. The orca is the traveler and guardian of the sea. The bear often represents strength and friendship. And the thunderbird — which creates thunder by flapping its wings — is one of the most powerful of the supernatural creatures.

Quatchi: A young sasquatch who comes from the mysterious forests of Canada. ... The sasquatch is a popular figure in local native legends of the Pacific West Coast. There is both a legendary ‘woman-of-the-woods’ (a slightly fearsome figure whose stories are told to discipline young children) and a ‘man-of-the-woods’ (a shy giant who lurks in the forests). The sasquatch reminds us of the mystery and wonder that exist in the natural world, igniting our imagination about the possibility of fantastical creatures in the great Canadian wilderness.

Miga: A young sea bear who lives in the ocean with her family pod, out past Vancouver Island near Tofino, British Columbia. Sea bears are part killer whale and part bear. Miga is part Kermode bear, a rare white bear that only lives in British Columbia. ... The sea bear is inspired by the legends of the Pacific Northwest First Nations, tales of orca whales that transform into bears when they arrive on land. The Kermode bear is a rare white or cream-coloured sub-species of the black bear that is unique to the central West Coast of British Columbia. According to First Nations’ legend, Kermode bears — also known as Spirit Bears — were turned white by Raven to remind people of the Ice Age. Orcas are also honoured in the art and stories of West Coast First Nations, as travelers and guardians of the sea.

Part 2 of the Alexie video posted earlier

Go Indians (finally, for once, it's appropriate)

Last week one of my favorite authors, Sherman Alexie, won the National Book Award for young people's literature for his most recent effort, "The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian." If you haven't read it, check it out. Regardless of age or race, there's something universal to his autobiographical story that's both powerful and beautiful.

I had the chance to attend one of his readings a few months back when he came through the Portland area and spoke a few miles from my office. Funny guy, in print. Funnier guy, in person (see video below). He's kind of the new Kurt Vonnegut for me - someone who addresses life's tragedies head on, often with a healthy dose of humor, which is often the only way to survive, as Kurt wrote. But more valuable than that in my eyes, with this book he seems to have fully stepped into an exciting and important role that's been foisted upon him - like it or not - for some time now: Indian role model.

Alexie is Spokane/Coeur d'Alene. He grew up not too many hours from where we live now. I used to work with a Yakama woman who knew him back before he became, oh, just one of the best writers and most famous Indians alive today. He's pretty much the closest thing there is to an Indian rock star, as evidenced by the number of us who turned out that night in Beaverton to see him speak. I'd never seen so many rez plates and Leonard Peltier bumper stickers in seven-plus years in lily-white Oregon as I did that night. And that was before I walked in and saw a crowd full of proud Indian folks. It was like going home, in a way.

So there I sat, in the back row, listening to his reading and the Q&A that followed in which he talked about the "irony of indigenous immigration" one minute and how "even the evergreens are paler in Oregon" the next, just smiling and feeling like it was, somehow, an important moment. I realized as he spoke that I was watching something I never would've seen as a kid. The only real Indian role models I knew of - beyond immediate family - were the dead ones in history books, and those all have a certain, um, bent to them.

Part of me wanted to tell him about that afterward, although it would have only completed the the fanboy-meets-rockstar-and-geeks-out moment.

In the end, my friend Casey and I did get to talk with him afterward - after she totally caught him off guard by complimenting him on his sportscoat, which he swore to us came from T.J. Maxx, which got us all to talking about places to score cheap clothes (how Indian is that?) - and he told us a funny story. Turns out about the time he met his future wife, he was trying to ask out my former colleague. Or something like that. I don't remember all the details. Like I said, I was a little star-struck.

I mean, this guy is a famous Indian role model. And he's actually alive. And there I was shaking his hand and carrying on a conversation thinking, "He's only 11 years older than I am (what am I doing with my life?!) ... I know someone who knows him ... This guy was on national television last night, albeit on 'The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson.' (Wait, why aren't Letterman or Leno or Charlie Rose inviting the Indian guy on? Oh, yeah. He's done at least some of their shows before, too.")

So with all that going through my head, no, I didn't go all fanboy. I did get his autograph, though, and as I walked away I said a big, open-ended "Thank you." It was for the moment, for the memory and for the book I'm someday going to make sure our kids treasure for not only what it says but what it means. And if I'm lucky, when that day comes, they'll roll their eyes at me because living Indian role models - much less meeting them - won't be any big deal at all. Not anymore.

Good reads

More from the NYT on two things that are big in Portland, bicyclists and foodies: "In Portland, Cultivating a Culture of Two Wheels" and "Outrageous? He's Heard That Before."

And one of my favorite writers re-emerges to write about what he's been doing since leaving the aforementioned publication: "Charlie LeDuff on life as a stay-at-home dad."

Life, lately

From last weekend's annual McPrince carving party

My friend Quentin recently tipped me off to a good, little-known Portland band called Dolorean that I've been listening to a lot lately. Good stuff for this time in life, at this time of year, as the last of the leaves pile up and the mornings turn from crisp to see-your-breath cold. Just this week I started having to scrape my windshield in the mornings before leaving the house.

For tonight, though, forget the chill. Amy's upstairs in bed and here I sit, curled up with Wiley, sipping a stout called "Old Viscosity," listening to what one reviewer calls the "ambient folk-rock" sound of Dolorean's three albums - "Not Exotic," "Violence in the Snowy Fields" and "You Can't Win." It has me thinking about something Q sent me in an e-mail about the next album the band's lead singer will be working on. The note, taken from their site, reads as follows: " 'The Unfazed' will be an austere affair focusing on turning 30 years old, growing up, giving up, finding unbelievable happiness in being honest with the people around you and living very simply.' "

Amen, brother.

Last weekend we had, as pictured above, the annual McPrince Halloween carving party. It was a reminder in the inevitability of growing up. It was fairly austere, too - Amy limited her cooking to chili and a tasty bread pudding. Amy and I dressed up as the ghosts of this 100-year-old house's past, playing off the way-too-new slab of concrete oddly placed in our 1907 garage. (She was the dead wife; I, the shovel-wielding dirtbag husband. Maybe Susan can shoot us a copy of the "American Gothic"-esque picture she snapped, or maybe we'll get another shot tomorrow night if we re-create the spectacle for Hugo's legendary neighborhood party.) When we started our little party three or so years ago, it was all big people. Now, I swear, the little ones are soon to outnumber us. Wiley was surrounded and overwhelmed. And, I think, quite happily exhausted by the end of the night.

Back to that quote, though. I'm not one for giving up; Amy would be the first to vouch for how that stubborn-as-a-mule Prince streak will likely preclude that from ever happening, in damn near any capacity. But I am, in a sense, finding ever more enjoyment in living more simply and directly. Being healthier, more balanced, settling down to a greater extent. As my friend Casey noted yesterday, domesticated life ain't half bad. In fact, it's pretty damn good.

Along those lines, we hit a barn dance on Sauvie Island last weekend with fellow Vancooters the Robinwoods and honorary ex-pats the Nieloways. Their wee Anna was a delight all the while, whether the gang was gathered around a big bonfire or two-stepping to the always-entertaining tunes of Lisa and Her Kin.

But enough about the week past. The one to come has potential to bring big - exciting and crazy - change, too.

Or, to again quote the boys from Dolorean: "They all told me at different times to go ahead and go all the way into that feeling and try to come out on the other side. As the project wore on I eventually did, and the sentiment of "You Can't Win" changed drastically. Instead of the frustration that I was feeling early on there was a renewed appreciation of hard work, a belief in the complexity of love, and a newfound joy in creating..."