My husband, who is always good to me, has been especially good lately. My needs during this terrible winter (while I appreciate the bracing cold as much as the next Minnesotan, I’d like it with some sun, which has been in short supply) have turned to the musical, and Jim has not disappointed.



My pile for this weekend includes new releases by Headlights, Joe Pug, The Pains of Being Pure at Heart (My god! Slumberland is still releasing records, and once again they sound like the records they were releasing 15 years ago! Can a new issue of Chickfactor be far behind? I hope not!), Slipstream, and a recently-mastered-not-out-for-awhile Horse’s Ha release, featuring the many talents of one Janet Beveridge Bean, whose acquaintance I made one August 1991 day in Chicago at Empire Records. She was quite pregnant, with her feet up on the counter, and I was new to town. Man, we were kids, though she had a couple years on me and had recorded several records already with her band and the growing up, at least for me, had not even started (though I thought I had Been Through A Lot).



However, today’s musical surprise was the new Olson & Louris record, Waiting For the Flood. There’s some backstory here (isn’t there always?) but the short version is that I was around when the Jayhawks were around back in the Minneapolis Day and, well, I’ve kept some tabs. I knew Mark (Olson) and Gary (Louris) were back together after years of not writing songs together and were planning a tour, but I had somehow missed that the resulting record was out already. I asked Jim very nicely to order me one and he went ahead and did so, but then showed up at my office with a copy at 3 PM. My guy! It was excellent to have it in the player.



While my preference is to be so bowled over by music that I’m laying on the ground weeping after the first listen, that doesn’t seem to happen very often these days… and did not happen with this record. However, most of the way through I suddenly heard myself singing along to one of the tracks and realized it’s one they used to perform live almost 20 years ago. I had taped a performance and listened to it so many times that all the songs were committed to memory. Most of them have already been released on other records. Oh! It was good to hear it again.







My baby is taking photos at rock shows now. He was assigned the Jeff Tweedy show last weekend and got some excellent snaps. The irony here is that Uncle Tupelo were, I think, the first band I ever interviewed - in 1990. Gary and Marc from Jayhawks were on the assist. Oh, life is funny.



Photo above by Cody. You can see more of his work here.

10. Monster Magnet, Spine of God (1992) I used to work at a wee little indie record store in CHGO called Blackout!Records - I was there from spring 1992, pregnant with Cody, until sometime in 1995 or maybe even 1996. This record came out in the US while I was pregnant, working at the store and unable to decide between twee pop and dirty rock music and alt.country and le grunge (why I thought I had to choose is a mystery), and generally all kinds of pissed off, so I loved it. All the drug references - so forbidden! The stoner groove - so hypnotic! Bombast! Feedback! Psychedelia! References to Yes’ Fragile album! Oh, it made me feel feelings. I felt feelings around this record even more after having Cody and after the Big Breakup when he was 6 months old - 1993, the year I fondly refer to as the nadir of my existence, had been ushered in, and I fancied myself a little bit of a badass. Monster Magnet had another record, Superjudge, come out in 1993 (more about that one further into the project), and while it sounded major-label great and carried some of the angry stoner vibe that I had grown to love, there were so many other records out that year. Plus, you know, DISTRACTIONS. [ETA: I just remembered - I interviewed Monster Magnet main dude Dave Wyndorf in 1993. He was in a phone booth in Milwaukee, WI, and I was at the CAKE magazine office in MPLS on a little 1993-style jaunt (said jaunt may have involved Chank, driving all night, and hanging out at a Posies show at First Avenue, but I can’t remember for sure and my journals are out in the garage). It was a good interview, but just the fact that the whole band were huge fans of Mule has stayed with me for 18 years.] ################## Lilly hates losing teeth. The last week has been an ordeal… but the tooth! Is! Finally! Out!

Curve, Doppelganger (1992) 4. I skipped out on my tickets to see Curve in 1992. I was a new mother, feeling fragile and identifying too much with this record (which had come out during my pregnancy) during a time when I had one foot firmly planted in my Old Life and the other poised over the New. I couldn’t watch - hearing was plenty sensory; I would just close my eyes and respire distorted guitars. Bands like Garbage owe much to Garcia/Halliday, who outgrew shoegazing and into more confrontational, compelling, sexydark territory. ################################## Today I was once again reminded how lucky I was to have the time at home with my kids that I did - time free from working outside the house, time away from school for them. We were completely, horribly broke and things were intense sometimes, but that time together helped them grow into who they are - these thinky, lovely human beings. Cody’s really concerned about his school - the food they eat at school, how kids are disciplined, No Child Left Behind, testing - all of it. He’s exploring these issues within the confines of his school paper, where he reports investigatively despite the clamor for more prom and photo pages. Lilly writes and writes and writes and writes and writes and writes and writes and writes and plays soccer and Pokemon cards and is an awesome friend. Late this afternoon I had a conversation with Cody that made me realize he’s growing past me, that he knows way more about some very important things than I do, that his opinions are strong but that the world is still getting teenagers like him down by helping convince them that they’re powerless. He’s fighting that ennui - I hope he can hold out. That he still comes to me and engages me in conversation and listens when I talk is beautiful to me, but I have to admit I’m a sucker for the post-talk hug. Now playing: The very awesome Silversun Pickups, “Lazy Eye” - fourth track here

< 2. Motorpsycho, Little Lucid Moments (released in the US April 2008) Four songs, 60 minutes, everything there is to like about music for this woman of a certain age (39), from a certain time/place (early 90s/CHGO) - guitars, noise, harmony, rhythm, guitars, noise, slow, fast, quiet, loud, etc. This trio from Norway has been bringing it (in English) for 20 years, evolving from a Jesus Lizard-like noise outfit toward a Yes-like faux-prog sensibility, infused on either end with adoration for giant guitar and jazz/indie stylings. My only friend that has ever seen them live wasn’t impressed (ears bled), but the words “Motorpsycho” and “US tour” still make my heart go pitter-pat. [Motorpsycho! At! Terrastock 2008!] ################## So, about the food: I was going to scan my receipt, but seeing as the scanner is snug underneath a pile of health insurance paperwork, some CDs, and some tax software info, I can’t be bothered. I’ll go ahead and list what’s on the table - most of the food is organic, and some is local - the * denotes a bulk purchase: A dozen local eggs 2 pound jar of local honey Jason mouthwash 2 cans Organix cat food 1 container Greek yogurt 1 container local goat cheese 1 bunch broccoli 1 head lettuce 1 container of dish soap* 1 container popcorn* 2 containers raw sugar* 1 container raisins* 1 bag chocolate-covered almonds (WHAT!)* 1 bag rolled oats* 1 bulb garlic 1 bag white flour* 1 small bag local cornmeal* 2 jars white rice* 2 jars brown rice* Eighty dollars! >Gulp<. I in no way fault my co-op - they're having to cope with rising food prices just like other stores, and they raise their prices grudgingly. The whole food price thing has been morbidly fascinating to watch, actually, because a) I eat, b) my family eats and c) my livelihood depends on people eating. What will it be like at the Market? We don't grow rice in Illinois, or produce much in the way of flour. Or, really, fruits and vegetables. We grow corn used to feed animals whose bodies are meant to eat grass; we also grow corn used to feed cars. We grow soybeans for oils and for... everything. Will more people come to the Market to search out fresh food options when the grocery store alternative becomes too dear on many levels? Will the weather improve soon enough to ensure timely planting? Will there be a late freeze like last year's, killing a large percentage of the state's fruit crops? These variances have meant a lot to me for years, but this year they take on a whole new meaning; people, including me, come to the Market to procure food. Right now, I'm interested in the fact that many (certainly not all) of the same staples purchased at a "regular" grocery store - even if they've been conventionally raised/grown - are costing about the same as what I paid at my co-op or... more. I buy from my co-op because I like to buy in bulk, clean food is a priority for me, they buy from local suppliers, and they get that people gotta eat. They and the Market are going to be my go-tos even more as conventional options start to become, well, less of an option. We shall see, eh? I don't have much in the way of links today. I've been reading a lot about ankylosing spondylitis, which I doubt anyone else would find interesting (but there’s a link for you, just in case). I have an appointment with my rheumatologist in a couple of weeks to see if it’s a possibility. Whee! Oh, who cares. Like a bad back is going to stop me. Locals: I’ll be teaching some Gardening 101 at Common Ground’s gardening workshop from 10-noon on April 12. Email me for more info.

Remember that project I was talking about starting a week ago? The one where I talk about a different record/CD/whatever each day? I’m ready now. 365 records, one per day, each in 100 words or less. I’m not a huge fan of limiting my words when it comes to music, but I also know I will be utterly unable to do a full-on record review every day. I haven’t been capable of that since 1993. 1. Biff Bang Pow!, Bertula Pop (1994 compilation) Biff Bang Pow!’s basement-studio pop is a study in occasional twee and psychedelia, its (mohair, thrifted) cardigan-sweatered chimes introduced to me by my biggest crush/future husband long after either of our graduations. Oh, I smoked many impatient and lonely cigarettes to this record. Further: Creation records boss Alan McGee helmed BBP via songwriting and guitar and did the singing. Definitely more melancholy jangle than MBV-style shoegaze, though. Gems: “She’s Got Diamonds in Her Hair”, “Star Tripper”, “She Paints”. [Note 2nd Hand Tunes tag! Another story entirely.] ################# As the opening day of the Farmers’ Market approaches, I find myself totally, blissfully immersed in… food, localism, food politics, local food politics, best market management practices, weather forecasts, heedless growing season speculation, local and organic task force this, my own garden is a mess that, and I fear I’ve become rather boring to most. My job isn’t all about the Farmers’ Market, but during the season it’ll be a big part of it. Is it wrong to be excited? I know it won’t be, as my old friend Matt liked to say, all peaches and gravy, but I’m thisclose to doing what I’ve really been hoping and imagining I’d be doing with this part of my life. ######################### Surf here: Make cool plastic bags out of… plastic bags Make seed starting pots out of toilet paper cardboard I just joined this newish (?) Peak Oil forum - it looks like it could be cool Not that I use my cell phone all that much, but this article about the as-yet unknown dangers kind of freaked me out This thread at Kos prompted me to buy a little extra flour and rice and grain yesterday… I’ll write more tomorrow about my sticker shock.

Defying Gravity - taken by Cody Ah, JanuFeb. I guess you were inevitable, with your sloppy skies and sloppier grounds, your precipitation of unknown nomenclature, your salt stains, and your interminably interminable shades of gray. I’ll be glad when you’re over, JanuFeb, because that means my seeds will have been ordered, my seed potatoes will be on the way, my plans for the yard will have been sketched out - this year with bonus Jim tech support PLUS extra bonus newish friend who specializes in small fruit! - and there will be more sun, both in general and at either end of the day. Non-locals will know what I’m talking about, but the rest of you - the fog tonight was unbelievably thick. It had actually been thick all day - with the snow on the ground and the gray sky and the ground-clouds, it was what I imagine being wrapped in a marshmallow to be like - but when I got into my car this evening at 6:45 to go meet random co-op members at a bowling alley a few miles away, I thought that perhaps I was making a terrible mistake. By the time I began venturing down our (unlit) street, I knew I was making one. But I soldiered on. I got some bowling cash out of the ATM and gathered up some steely resolve. [Those who have known me for a long time understand that I’m not terribly fond of what is known as driving in conditions. That doesn’t mean I won’t do it, it just means I don’t like it. Usually conditions = really heavy rain or ice or snow, but tonight nighttime fog - fog that I can only describe as being womb-like - was added to the list.] It took me 15 minutes to feel my way to Memorial Stadium, a voyage that should have taken about 3 minutes. After hitting a wide-open spot where the fog could roll in off the prairie - which it did, completely disorienting me - I made an executive decision to eff this, for reals, and I hung a right onto campus, where, as it turns out, people walk out in front of cars during fogstorms the same way they do when it’s bright and sunny outside. [Public Service Announcement: In extreme nighttime fog, pedestrians can see cars because CARS HAVE LIGHTS. Drivers have a hard time seeing pedestrians because PEDESTRIANS GENERALLY DO NOT WEAR LIGHTS. Again: In extreme nighttime fog, people on foot can see cars, but drivers of cars can’t see people. Let’s all be careful out there.] Anyway, it took me another 20 minutes to get home; as I was navigating and negotiating and trying not to hit people, I received a phone call, which I answered (!), from a fellow board member telling me the bowling alley had been closed anyway. I scooted home, told my fog story to my family, and hit the blog for some link-updatin’ and category-creatin’. ***** I decided this morning while on the treadmill - a place I seem to do a lot of thinking about My Rock Past - the band that most represents the time I spent doing the rock thing in MN and CHGO, those 9 years (was that all?) of carousing and carrying on and writing and traveling and feeling the music travel from my ears all the way down to my feet and then back up, eventually shooting out the top of my head, it was so good - the band whose music that represents it best in terms of sound equaling feeling is… Union Carbide Productions, a band I never saw play live and never heard of until about 1992, well into my time in CHGO. An extensive biography is here, but if you want the short version summing up what they were like, Rolling Stone did a pretty good job: Union Carbide Productions were Sweden’s majestic combined answer to the Stooges, Black Flag and the early freaked-out Pink Floyd, a Next Big Thing doomed by missed opportunities and inner turmoil. Huh. That makes all kinds of sense. Anyway, UCP’s CDs were carried domestically by the indie distributor Jim and I started working at in 1993, and they were the only band everyone could agree on. Every single person who worked there dug them big. The warehouse dudes loved UCP, the kranky guys loved them, the garage rockers and the math rockers and the dance dudes and the indie princesses - everyone absolutely loved them, and for good reason - they were the Real Deal, 100%, their only CHGO show (in 1992, right around the time Cody was born) the stuff of legend. [Just heard from Jim that all of UCP’s stuff is going to be reissued as double CDs, with lots of extras and artwork and possibly videos and other etc. I’m excited and all, but when we had dinner with Ebbot 5 years ago, he was talking about basically the same thing, only in box set form. Maybe it’s really happening.] As it turns out, UCP were HUGE 2.5 hours south of Chicago in those days, too, the days when C-U had its own legendary and influential music scene and I kind of wished I could live there. I mean, here. Whatever. I’m glad I’m here/there. Anyway, a bunch of C-U music folk talked idly (to my total torment) years ago of possibly forming a Union Carbide Productions cover band called Maximum Dogbreath (a track from UCP’s stupendous opus entitled Financially Dissatisfied Philosophically Trying) but it never came to fruition. But as I trotted away on the treadmill this morning, I fantasized about a show featuring Maximum Dogbreath, a fictitious C-U supergroup made up mostly of guys who no longer play music on a regular basis and who are all over 40 years old. Hey, it’d get me out of the house.

I mean, I think it’s cool. This l’il blog of mine was namechecked at 52 Projects. I’m a big fan, so I’m excited. Thanks, 52 Projects! Speaking of projects, I don’t really have one at the moment. I have an idea for a photo project that might involve collaboration with my son at some point during February, and there are plenty of things I need to get managed to a manageable state before I start my job at the end of February, but I’m not really WORKING on anything. OK, I’m working on a little something for Meghan the Glassblower and her awesome husband, and that has definitely been a project. But I’m waiting for my imagination to fully catch fire, to get engrossed in an idea, to get carried away. I can feel it coming on, because I have this new big project (work) to look forward to, but at the moment it’s kind of like when you open the new bottle of ketchup and hold it upside down and nothing comes out. You know? ***** What I’m watching: Upp Till Kamp (which means “How soon is now?” in Swedish? I think?) - a miniseries about life in a rock band in Goteborg, Sweden during the late 60s/early 70s. Totally great. When the Cue Club shuts down and there’s a riot, you’re just like, yeah! The kids are alright! You need a PAL player to be able to watch it, and I can’t knit while reading subtitles, but it really is good, plus the music is done by our friend Mattias Barjed (of Soundtrack Of Our Lives) He’s also in the miniseries, playing a crabby guitar player named Anders. I’m reading stuff, too, but that’s another entry. Maybe I’ll make new categories on the right hand side over there…

[Has anyone else been having trouble with Gmail - both mail and chat functions? It’s been very unreliable for me since Saturday.] I go to the gym every day now except Saturdays. While it’s doing good things for my body (better endurance, better muscle tone) and better things for my psyche (there’s a lot of discipline involved in making oneself get up at 5:50 AM when it’s two degrees outside), it’s doing fantastic things for my brain chemistry. I’m calmer and better able to handle what gets thrown at me every day. Here’s Workout Playlist Three:





Lugengeschichte/Telstar Ponies Love Removal Machine (Peace Remix)/The Cult Nicky’s Sister/Flour Silence, Sea, and Sky/The Chameleons Great Release/LCD Soundsystem Policy Of Truth/Depeche Mode What Is Life/Black Uhuru Tomorrow Started/Talk Talk (London 1986) Search And Destroy/The Stooges So Far/The Soundtrack Of Our Lives Dub Fi Gwan/King Tubby Kitchie Kitchie Ki Me-O/My Midnight Creeps Entirely Made Of Wood/Love Cup The Bottle/Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson Hot Stenographer/Kinski Dream Police/Elope Black Man Land/Prince Far I Mr.Untitled/Union Carbide Productions High Expectation/Stereolab Bury Me/Smashing Pumpkins





[Music has taken such a back seat to events of the last year and a half. I can’t believe it, really, since it was my first love. Every man I ever dated, practically, was involved with music in some way (present man included). I worked in music, wrote about music, interviewed musicians, traveled with them, ran record stores, sold music to record stores, discovered talent and promoted it. I lived and breathed it, the industry, the three chords and the flats and sharps, the destroyed drum kits and the production decisions. I was there when…. When I’m on the treadmill (the treadmill! I sometimes still can’t believe it’s come to this, god) hearing the Smashing Pumpkins, it’s impossible NOT to feel very Chicago in 1991; when I hear Telstar Ponies, it’s impossible NOT to become the me I was in Chicago in 1995, embarking upon the most important relationship of my life with their music as a backdrop (it remains a favorite of ours today). I’m sure I look crazy on the cardio machines at the gym, my face constantly changing with the shuffling of the songs on the iPod.]





The last few weeks have been a trial; I’d like for work stuff to not be such a driver for me emotionally, but I struggle. I’m very sensitive to the vibes, and while I don’t usually let it bother me, when things reach critical mass it can really suck.





So I’m working on it. I’m looking forward to starting my seeds in late February. There’s some sunshine and warmth in my not-too-distant future, too. My little house is warm and relatively clean (Three cats. Enough said). The kids are healthy and happy and thinking for themselves in spite of their daily environment - she writes, he photographs. Jim and I have arrived at that place people always told us about where we can have dinner together alone while the kids are off doing other things; we’re talking more and working together and are in a period of deep closeness right now, having to do both with my improved mental state and our improved communication. Note to self: keep communicating with that guy.





Now playing: U2, Mysterious Ways ETA: I wonder when those first two Smashing Pumpkins records will be remastered so they sound like they did when I first heard them - big, expansive, etc. Maybe I’m just going deaf.

Bad blogger, me. I’m around, just with many plates in the air at the mo. As I’m sure are most of you.


A few things of note, for those who still read:


I joined a gym. I know, I know - what’s the big deal? Lots of people do. Well, lots of people get their hair cut and colored by licensed professionals, pedicures and Brazilians by same, hire cleaning services, etc - and I do/get none of those. Not to dis those who do, understand - there are just things I never thought I’d do, and joining a gym is just one of those things. So - why’d I join?



I joined because a) I desperately need to get exercise, b) it’s too cold for me to exercise outside, c) I need to use equipment that will not fit into my tiny little house (or my tiny little budget) and d) I seem to develop discipline in response to ongoing expenditures - if something’s going to cost me money every month, damn straight I’m going to get my money’s worth (did you know that only 6% of people having gym memberships actually use them? That’s what Joe Fitness Man told me when I signed up).



Oh, this is boring - the upshot is, I joined a gym and now arise at a ridiculously early hour to pay someone to let me make close friends with the treadmill (and soon, elliptical) whilst watching bad local news. Goals include properly-fitting clothing and not going batshit crazy this winter.



[wasn’t one of my New Year’s Resolutions to get a pedicure?]



And another thing. This Led Zeppelin reunion show that happened in London the other night - I’m disturbed about it. Disturbed that I didn’t get to go - absurd, I know. I don’t really know what else to say about it except that the footage I’ve seen (O, YouTube, what did we ever do without you, except that you keep taking these videos down?) is fantastic and classy and - god. I don’t know. They made the Stones, who are on perma-tour, look shameful. I hope the rumor’s true and Zep is playing Bonnaroo; though I highly doubt it, a girl can dream.



[My favorite quote from the New York Times piece linked to above: Unlike Mick Jagger, Mr. Plant — the youngest of the original members, at 59 — doesn’t walk and gesture like an excited woman anymore].



I grew up on Led Zeppelin - their music was part of the soundtrack to my childhood (not as much at home as all around me), I went through a heavy, heavy Zeppelin phase in college, and I’ve heard their influence threading through many, many indie bands. Ask ANY drummer about John Bonham, you know?



That’s enough ranting for the time being. If it seems like I’ve made myself scarce, it’s just that I’m answering the siren songs of holiday baking… and the treadmill.

Since I really need to get home from work at a normal time (before, say, 7 PM) to really rub those brain cells together and write something worth reading, I’m going to post something else altogether. Something worth looking at. If you’re me. I listen to music all day long at work. Some of it’s new stuff that Jim brings home for me to hear, but the vast majority of it is “old” and is thus guaranteed to make me stare off into space, shaking my head about The Days of Yore while my boss/officemate/intern/UPS guy try to get my attention. These are Male Rock Voices I Love Listening To. Exhibit A: Ebbot Lundberg, Union Carbide Productions, 1993 - He now sings for Soundtrack of Our Lives (and sings nicely!), but his total badassery on all the Union Carbide stuff makes me think back to when I was working for Cargo Records and Jim was too (we were not yet dating) and the only band - the ONLY BAND - that everyone employed by Cargo could agree upon was Union Carbide Productions. Even the dance guys liked UCP. Exhibit B: Ride/Mark Gardener, probably 1991- I saw them once in MPLS (First Avenue) and once in CHGO (Metro). They were touring with Lush that first time and I forget with whom the second. I was pregnant with Cody the second time; they stopped by the record store his father was working at, and all I could think was, these men are so tiny! I can’t remember what they bought, but someone from their label was with them and put it all on their plastic - I’m sure it was the usual pretentious-ish stuff. Gardener’s voice, to me, is the ultimate in shoegaze - it’s masculine and sounds good with guitars, but is close enough to the Tears For Fears guys’ (Roland Orzabal and Curt Smith) voices to be comfortably close to twee. Exhibit C: Chris Cornell of Soundgarden, 1991-ish - So Hole was soundchecking at the Avalon in November 1991 and had just lurched its way through an absolutely mindboggling version of Leadbelly’s “In the Pines” (mindboggling because it was great and mindboggling because Courtney was wearing black leggings and an Edie Sedgwickian bateau shirt, flats, hair all ponytail’d and face all bare) and to break the silence after the song was over, she bellowed “CHRIS CORNEEEEELLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!” Anyway, the entire Superunknown record is testament to his vocal greatness. Other rocker dudes hated him. For lots of reasons. I mean, look at him. Exhibit D: Ken Andrews, Failure… 1993? 1994? - I’ve written about old Ken before when I was posting at Madame Insane. His voice is, I believe I wrote, like pure indie boy sex. It’s way masculine, but is articulate - even brainy-sounding. It’s a little pretentious and Californian, but can also be quite workaday, like a black t-shirt and Levis with boots. It can rock, and it can glide alongside electronica Failure were one of the most underrated rock bands of the 90s, surely deserving more notice than they ever got. I know Ken’s still working, but I don’t know what he’s doing. Hey, this was fun and all, but it overheated the laptop. Part Two coming soon.