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Posts posted by Sweet Papa Crimbo
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Well, i absolutely agree that a reunion is highly unlikely, but I couldn't help noticing that Jay Farrar will be playing at Newport two nights after Wilco. It would be an unbelievable hoot if he were to make some kind of a guest appearance, maybe during an encore set.
They've played the same festival before (don't remember which one).
They are well beyond wanting or needing to have a reunion.
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After an evening out, I chanced upon the SNL broadcase.
Jagger and the Arcade Fire was better than it had any right to be.
Jagger with the Foos was...energetic (Jagger has never really been one for singing in tune. But, after 50 years of singing in J#, I guess he has made it his own.)
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nice...
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I put most of the blame on him being a pitcher, they rise and fall, come and go, generally faster than any kind of athlete. Despite his injury history, Kerry Wood still had a pretty good career. I am aware, however, that most of his legend is of what could have been.
Excessive innings and arm injuries before the age of 21 are the graveyard of pitcher' careers.
I know Wood's High School Coach. He says Woods' father insisted that he pitch Kerry in both ends of a double header and other goofy abusive shit like that.
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I love Kerry Wood, I put most of the blame on his "Disappointing career" on Dusty Baker. That guy know how to burn out young pitchers.
I think his father and high school baseball coach have a lot of the blame.
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I am so burned out on baseball...Baseball network 8 hours a day since April of last year.
I do tend to over do it.
But, I've found my way back to Wilco, so maybe I'll take a break and find my way back to the great game.
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In the backlash against Disco, it was forgotten how revolutionary she was. It is not unreasonable claim "Love to Love You" and "I Feel Love" as progenators of the electronica movement. Blending Kraftwork and Motown...
I remember playing Autobahn and Love to Love you back to back, usually followed by confused calls...
63 is too young...
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What am I missing here?
It's an electronic female voice repeating letters.
Nevermind...I hear it now (that'w why the call it the beatbox button)
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What a great birthday week it is gonna be!!!
Back to the motherland.
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New week...time for a new take on a Wilco top ten list
Dash 7
Sunken Treasure
Nothing'severgonnastandinmyway (again)
War on War
Jesus Etc.
Hummingbird
Muzzle of Bees
Side with Seeds
One Sunday Morning
Dawned on Me
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70 ... too young.
Another influential musician passes.
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Really disappointed at the punk move Hamels pulled in plunking Harper. And I find it equally funny that Harper ended up scoring by stealing home.
Guess a last place team needs something to get them fired up.
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Five home runs in his last six at bats...and the double he hit tuesday was a few feet short of making it six for six and a five homerun game.
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That's why.
I never look at the "After the Show" tab and February was one of those lost months.
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Nick Tremulous is kind of a flamboyant guy. He is a Chicago based musician who never really broke nationally.
I was also at the Double Door show and it was very under-attended. This is a side project for all the band members with the exception of Nick, who sporatically appears with his own group. They were enjoyable in concert. Is the 10 inch still available? It is worth having.
LouieB
iTunes has the ep for $4.95
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Taking a new view on this with an inclusion of The Whole Love and a couple more months of living
Dash 7
Sunken Treasure
California Stars
nothing'severgonnastandinmyway (Again)
Jesus, etc.
Side with Seeds
Muzzle of Bees
Hummingbird
Handshake Drugs
One Sunday Morning
Not very easy...The Whole Love is chock full of killer songs. But, after all is said and done, I find myself continually drawn to A Ghost is Born.
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Why haven't I heard of this Stirrat side project?
Looks pretty cool. Gonna check out the ep.
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Gonna go see this today. Real Story happened in my hometown.
I know Danny Buck and was acquainted with Bernie.
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Nice article from the Atlantic
http://www.theatlantic.com/entertainment/archive/2012/05/what-yankee-hotel-foxtrot-said/256320/
What 'Yankee Hotel Foxtrot' Said
By Spencer Kornhaber
Wilco's legendary album, which turned 10 last week, was about how hard it is to communicate honestly—a problem that would seem to be more relevant than ever today.
Nonesuch
There's a lot to say about the best rock record of the new millennium, but too few people talk about what it actually said. When it turned 10 last week, the appreciations for Wilco's Yankee Hotel Foxtrot largely focused on the trivia surrounding it: the way it was rejected by one Warner Bros. subsidiary only to be bought by another; the fact that it was streamed online at a time when doing so was unheard of; the acclaimed documentary about its creation; and the spookiness of the fact that its songs—replete with references to falling buildings, charred flags, and nameless dread—were originally set for a Sept. 11, 2001 release.
But the album endures because of its music, not its mythology. And that's not just because of the often-cited fact that it mixed folk and rock with other genres—Wilco and plenty of other alternative-leaning bands had already gone experimental in the '90s. Rather, Yankee Hotel Foxtrot's triumph was in how it captured a facet of human nature: the way we all send signals, hoping that someone will understand them but also anxious about what happens when someone does. You'll sometimes hear the album get called cryptic, or self-conscious, or difficult. And that's fine. It's really a soundtrack for the ways in which people ask to be misunderstood.
Jeff Tweedy asks to be misunderstood from the first verse, after the toddling rhythms and warm acoustic guitar strumming of "I Am Trying to Break Your Heart" lock into something resembling a song. "I am an American aquarium drinker," Tweedy sings sleepily. "I assassin down the avenue." Huh? All diehards have their interpretations, but they should be premised upon the idea that Tweedy's lyrics are poetry. That's not in the sense of "so good that it's poetry" but in the sense that the words were chosen for their shapes, for shadows they cast, and for the ways they can be misheard.
This isn't empty, trying-to-be-deep evasiveness. It's self-conscious, afraid-to-be-honest evasiveness. Again and again, Tweedy returns to the disconnect between what's on his mind and what's on his tongue. The angst here, and there's plenty of it, is over the way that that disconnect is both self-created and agonizing. "Radio Cure," one of the album's stranger-sounding songs, puts it most plainly. On it, Tweedy addresses a lover who doesn't feel very loved. "Something's wrong with me," he confesses, and then lays out a dichotomy. His "mind is filled with silvery stuff / honey, kisses, clouds of fluff" but it's also "filled with radio cures / electronic, surgical words." He holds affection, but is too shy, vulnerable, or drugged out to communicate it. So he signals. It comes out all wrong. And the distance between himself and the person he loves just gets wider.
The band translated Tweedy's lyrics by taking unvarnished pop tracks and reverse-engineering them to be weird.Even the seemingly straightforward tracks confront the challenge of being straightforward. On "I'm the Man Who Loves You" he tries to pen a love letter but botches it. The lounge gait and country fiddles of "Jesus Etc." back up the words of a man who can't even reassure his "honey" without his mind drifting to the apocalypse. The strum-along folk of "Poor Places" dissolves into the static-y, cryptic radio transmission that titles album—just another encoded broadcast on a record full of them. Two tracks in, Tweedy imagines a device to help him communicate authentically: a camera to "hold to my eye / to see what lies I've been hiding." Of course, the name of the gadget is misspelled as "Kamera." More self-imposed signal interference.
He sounds happiest over the neon power pop of "Heavy Metal Drummer," on which he reminisces about carefree teenage summers. It's crucial that the album's most direct track looks backwards. There's the shield of time to mute real feeling; nostalgia works as distortion, making the colors brighter, emphasizing the happy. Elsewhere, when he tries to put words to the idea of what clarity might look like in the now, the result is impressionistic nonsense. "Ashes of American Flags," for example, lumbers in a head-achey haze until a gorgeous bridge where Tweedy attempts, wooden-tonguedly, to envision serenity: "I want a good life / and a nose for things."A big part of the band's genius here was in translating Tweedy's lyrical conceit into sound. Wilco's first three albums had proven that its members could write catchy, complicated folk-pop songs—the same kind of songs that make up Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. But as the documentary I Am Trying to Break Your Heart showed, the band took those unvarnished tracks and reverse-engineered them to be weird: to float along uneasily on "Radio Cures," to sputter maniacally as in "I'm the Man Who Loves You," to disintegrate and rebuild as on "Pot Kettle Black." The fuzziness of how people relate to one another was in that weirdness; the reasons people bother trying to relate in the first place was in the pop.
The rise of the Internet over the past decade would seem to lend Tweedy's lyrics even greater resonance. "All my lies are always wishes"; "I'm down on my hands and knees every time the doorbell rings"; "It's become so obvious you are so oblivious to yourself"—these could be the drunken tweets of the poster-child for, say, the recent Atlantic cover story about how social media can isolate people and screw with relationships. But Tweedy's really singing about a universal, timeless crisis of communication. That's why so many people continue to take Yankee Hotel Foxtrot very personally. In high school, it sounded like Tweedy was speaking for me: This is how shy guys talk to people. In the time since, I've realized that no, this is how everyone talks to everyone. Saying what you mean is hard. What's astonishing about Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is that it actually did it.
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I love this list! If for no other reason than it does not trot out the same tired Hendrix, Page, Clapton, Beck, Santana, Allman... as every other. This list is as silly and as equally valid as any other Greatest guitarists list.
Including Malkmus, PJ Harvey, Andy Gill makes it at least more interesting.
Even being dead over 30 40 years Duane Allman can STILL outplay 75% of this list.
Dig him up and see.
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Depression is a cruel bitch.
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this one made me smile
Wilco Top 10 Songs
in Just A Fan
Posted
New week...new take on my Wilco Top Ten
Dash 7
Sunken treasure (I have a feeling these two will NEVER leave the list)
Via Chicago
Outtasite (Outta Mind)
Jesus, etc.
Poor Places
Muzzle of Bees
Hummingbird
Born Alone
One Sunday Morning