Autumn Souvenir

In the Spring of 2002, a friend called me day of show and offered a free ticket to see Joe Strummer at St. Ann's Warehouse in Brooklyn. For reasons I now can't imagine, I turned it down. Just eight months later, Strummer died at the age of 50. That chance to see him "next time" would never happen. I can still remember my girlfriend at the time pushing me to go to the show while I found some lame excuse. Yes, an excuse to *not* see Joe Strummer, for free. Not long after, I sat in the Austin Convention Center listening to Elvis Costello talk about music. The entire room was gripped. Not only was Costello an amazing talent but he was just like us. He absolutely loved music and had almost childlike adoration for many of the artists we loved. As he was nearing the end of his talk, he honed in on the reasons for us all to continue to abandon those excuses for passing on that night out. He said something along the lines of, "You never know when your favorite band will b

How many bands have released three songs this good?

Of all the advantages of leaving AT&T after two years and returning to my original carrier, Verizon, the biggest must be the ability to actually make and receive phone calls. I owe about 4,311 of you return calls.

With another Record Store Day before us, prior to heading to Amoeba to exhaust my latest paycheck, I find myself thinking of the independent landscape. From the record stores that help to mold us, to the labels that scrape by to deliver us music that matters, now 20 years after music became the centerpiece of what drives, inspires and helps me to relate, I remain in awe of the impact that music can have on our lives. Not a day passes that I don't feel grateful to the artists who abandon a comfortable life to give back. Yes, this is what they're doing. They record, tour, and grow old fast, in order to give us what we struggle to find. And for that, I can't thank them enough. With nostalgia on my mind, here are a few of the records that guided me down that path: Uncle Tupelo Still Feel Gone (Rockville, 1991) When I arrived back in New Jersey for summer break in 1994, I awoke on day one and floored the Mazda 626 to Ramsey Books & Records, standing outside in the heat befor

Settling down with warm-glow woodstove and kerosene, Peace you're looking for, Peace you'll find, In the tangled-mad cliff sides and crashing dark, Of Big Sur

A friend recently shared a few statistics he'd heard on a podcast regarding how we spend our time over a lifetime. You know, one of those charts that breaks down "28 years sleeping," etc. Well, when they hit on happiness and adjectives associated with joy, they noted that, on average, we spend a total of 14 minutes experiencing bliss. My response was, "This why people need to listen to Big Star." He had no idea what I was talking about and moved on. Seeing the Big Star/ Third tribute at Baruch College in New York two weekends ago reminded me of my own blissful moments, many of which were experienced before a stage packed with guitars, drums, mikes and amps. Like when Roger McGuinn joined Son Volt at Irving Plaza for The Byrds' "5D." Or at Bimbo's when Slint nearly knocked me over with their jarring version of "Good Morning Captain." And yes, when Slobberbone pulled me from the depths in the pouring Austin rain in 1999. I've come

4:35 sums up the euphoria that music can deliver. This was among the greatest opening songs I've ever witnessed. When Murphy plugged his ears in anticipation, all the mental clutter evaporated and I was....there.

Since making the move west on New Year's Day 2005, aside from the distance from friends and family, I can't say I've missed New York all that much. Until this trip. Arriving last Saturday and almost immediately landing about ten rows from many of my musical heroes, this trip reminded me why New York City is the greatest city on Earth. From two of the most memorable live shows I've ever seen, to the handful of friends I was able to meet up with, even down to the work meetings that filled each day, the spirit and individuality of New York simply can't be matched. In less than one week I was able to witness Michael Stipe nail the Box Tops' "The Letter," LCD Soundsystem close out a spectacular decade-long run, share laughs with friends I've known from ten to thirty years, and walk the streets and avenues and feel the passion of a city that simply captivates the mind. Now back in my home state of New Jersey, I long to be back in the city. Although San F

Closing out their four-night Terminal 5 stand, and their penultimate show, well, ever, LCD Soundsystem covered nearly their entire catalog to perfection. Given my oft-times narrow musical tastes, LCD seems a rare combination: great lyrics, explosive songs and music that forces you to, yes, dance. Surrounded mostly by late-teens, early-twenties "kids," LCD played one brilliant track after another. "Yeah," "All My Friends," "North American Scum," "Dance Yrself Clean," "Someone Great," "Us v Them," "I Can Change," and although they appeared to have more in the tank, right around midnight came "Losing My Edge," which felt like the perfect closer. Instead of seeing it play out, I stepped out onto the city streets where it started, and in a few days, will conclude.