Bands that were huge last year... that I just heard now.

When you're a busy dude like me (class two days a week! an almost sort of full time job! at least 3 requisite nights at the bar a week!), it's easy to let some of the best music slip right by you.

Well, over the past 10 hours, I've spent some much needed time playing catch up with some of last year's gems... instead of writing the paper that's now due in 51 minutes.

Nonetheless, in case you too missed some of these sparks of brilliance, here are a few suggestions to brush up your knowledge of what totally killed in 2008.

Enjoy!

Frightened Rabbit: Yes, I've already kicked myself, difficult as it was, for not having heard Frightened Rabbit until now. But now that I have, my mind is running circles around the beautifully tortured mess that this band creates with each song. Pumping guitars, meandering melodies and enough jangle to creep into every nook and cranny of your brain. Epic, stunning. Listen now.


The Tallest Man on Earth: It's been said over and over and over, so this extremely late name-drop comparison won't hurt any feelings; dude sounds like a more ethereal Dylan. Like Dylan singing from a desolate bayou porch in the middle of the coldest night in November, wind swirling all around him, the only light coming from a single candle that's about to burn out.


Raphael Saadiq: Yessssssssss. Raphael just feels right, like a glass of wine on a night in with somebody to hold onto tight. Does that sound cheesy? Fine, but this is feel-good soul like only the greats like Stevie and the Reverend can pull off. Play this at any time of day for an instant chill out, and expect to call people 'cat' for several hours following.


I've still got more catching up to do, but these three will keep me smiling at least until I hand in this paper... in 37 minutes. Student, me?

Not good at sharing: Coming to terms with 'your' band being everyone else's too

As I type this column, I’m downloading the iTunes advanced release of The Decemberists’ new record, The Hazards of Love. And I’m extremely nervous.

It’s not that I fear the album will be bad, though — the band could release an entire record of power chords and Buddhist chants and I’d likely find something to appreciate. Rather, my apprehension comes from the notion that The Decemberists, a band that I’ve loved for almost six years, is no longer my own.

With each album, The Decemberists have seen a steady increase in both fans and critical attention — a pattern that would suggest that The Hazards of Love will be the band’s biggest record. And if the huge media push (Rolling Stone called it “the Decemberists’ full-on classic-rock move”) is any indication, it’s looking like the band once beloved only by nerds and classics majors may soon be embraced by the people who used to beat up nerds and classics majors.

The Decemberists are primed for the big time, a place filled with bands that suck and the people who love them. What a sad day.

But shouldn’t I, a diehard Decemberists fan (Colin Meloy’s pre-Decemberists band was Tarkio. Who knew that one?) be happy for my band’s growing success? Well, no. Not exactly.

And herein lies the problem so many fans face as their favorite bands make it big. The logic goes like this:

You discover a band you think no one else knows at a time in your life when the band’s music gives you hope. The band becomes “yours,” and you introduce your friends to the music. Your friends begin to love the band as well. The band becomes “theirs” as well as “yours.” This you can deal with — you like your friends, you like your band. The two can co-exist.

But then everyone else catches on, usually because of brain vacuums like MTV. “Your” band begins to be the band of everyone, from the girls with braces and black hoodies in Hot Topic to the quarterback of the football team, whose previous favorite band was Bon Jovi. Your faith in “your” band begins to falter. How can someone like Bon Jovi and “your” band?

Still, if you love “your” band, you should want the best for it, and it’s hard to deny that making millions of dollars is worse than not making enough money to buy gas or underwear.

You’re stuck.

There must be a way to reconcile a band’s success and a fan’s personal connection to the band — they can’t be absolute inverses. Or can they?

Often, a band’s initial output is rough. It’s difficult to absorb, and the band gains a devoted but small following of fans who are willing to put in the time to appreciate the music. As the band gains experience, it’s music becomes easier to digest and the band gains more fans simply because it takes less effort to appreciate the music. To the economist, this is a good strategy. To the diehard fan, this means the band is getting worse.

Every band follows this pattern, from Taking Back Sunday (if you say you didn’t love the first album during high school, you’re a liar) to the Foo Fighters (The Colour and the Shape is a classic, the later stuff is tired — but loved by everyone).

For the diehard fan, decreasing personal connection is actually caused by a decrease in the quality of the music, not merely the accumulation of more fans.

But The Decemberists, much like My Morning Jacket or Death Cab for Cutie, for example, bucked that trend — popularity has grown seemingly because more people have finally heard the band, not because the music’s been dumbed down.

Like The Hazards of Love itself, a 17-part opus about a character named Margaret being ravaged by a shape-shifting dude named William, the situation is complex, and though I could wax philosophical about the price of fame on artistic integrity, the bottom line is that we fans may just have to be alright that “our” bands often become the bands of countless others, whether those countless others appreciate the music as much as we do.


It’s a difficult task, I know, but a necessary one. I’ll always have my Decemberists moments, when I felt like the band and I, in a rather Lifetime Channel way, were truly meant to be together forever. And nothing can take that away from me.

Not even the Bon Jovi-loving quarterback.

Hint: Here's my favorite -

Rothbury bags a beautiful lineup

The festival lineups continue to roll in, and Rothbury (July 2-5) may just edge out Bonnaroo for the title of the Best of 09.

I'd say the top five billed acts alone make the Michigan fest's pricey 250 tickets worth it, but the list stays strong the further down you go.

Unlike both Roo or All Good, Rothbury's been able to straddle the line between mainstream blowout and jam-band heaven by raking in a lineup that is, you could say, a jam-band blowout. The best of both worlds — absolutely gigantic bands that won't appeal to the annoying douchebags who came to see Dave Matthews Band. All rejoice!

The highlights are bolded, but there are few bands that don't excite me to some degree. Damian Marley and Nas?!? Fantastic.

Who's ready for a roadtrip?

The Dead
Bob Dylan and His Band
The String Cheese Incident
Willie Nelson & Family
The Black Crowes
Damian "Jr. Gong" Marley & Nas
STS9
G. Love & Special Sauce
Gov't Mule
Broken Social Scene
Yonder Mountain String Band
The Disco Biscuits
Les Claypool
Cold War Kids
John Butler
Chromeo
Ani DiFranco
Matisyahu
Guster
Girl Talk
Femi Kuti & The Positive Force
MSTRKRFT
Martin Sexton
Flogging Molly
Railroad Earth
The Hold Steady
Toots & The Maytals
Ralph Stanley & The Clinch Mountain Boys
Brett Dennen
Zappa Plays Zappa
Grace Potter and the Nocturnals
Shpongle DJ Set
Son Volt
Jackie Greene
Soulive
Man Man
Peter Rowan Bluegrass Band w/ Tony Rice
EOTO
King Sunny Adé & His African Beats
Lotus
Kid Cudi
STS9 Live PA
The Glitch Mob
Davy Knowles and Back Door Slam
Pretty Lights
Moseley, Law, Sipe & Droll
Rebelution
Quannum All Stars ft. Lyrics Born, The Mighty Underdogs, Gift of Gab & Lifesavas
Toubab Krewe
Sam Roberts Band
Hill Country Revue
Kyle Hollingsworth Band
Lipp Service
2020 Soundsystem
Break Science ft. Adam Deitch
The Hard Lessons
The Low Anthem
Underground Orchestra
Future Rock
The Macpodz
Steppin' In It
Giant Panda Guerilla Dub Squad
Chris Pierce
Rachel Goodrich
The Ragbirds
Four Finger Five

An Ode to Dr. Dog: My Guatemalan Anchor

If you scan down the page, you'll find a picture of a Guatemalan volcano.

Welcome to the last week of my life.

I returned today after, quite literally, more than 24 hours of traveling (tiny rural village of Paraxaj to Guatemala City to Miama to JFK airport to Newark airport to Pittsburgh airport to public transit to home) from what I'd consider the most important and powerful week of my life.

Still, though, I'm too close to the action right now to be able to sort through the impact that my time living in an impoverished village will have on my life — the feelings are too fresh, too new. All I can say is that I'm not sure I'll ever be the same, or that I can ever again willingly embrace the foolish wastefulness of American culture.

But that's another topic for another blog.

Like any intense patch of life, there's music for every emotion. I went into my week in Guatemala with very few expectations for what music I'd crave, and for many of the most intense moments (visiting a family of 10 living in a house the size of a Cadillac), there was simply no music at all that fit.

I wanted nothing but silence.


But, surprisingly, one band rose to the top for those moments when sight and sound matched perfectly: Dr. Dog.

Sure, Explosions in the Sky popped up on the moments when we were driving through the mountains and RJD2 was played in our room when spirits were feeling funky, but Dr. Dog was consistently the band I came back to during the few moments when I needed a musical kick in the pants.

Why? Because Dr. Dog music makes me happier than any other band I can think of.

Just check out "The Breeze." The ethereal, floating harmonies, the slow, bopping melody, the sprinkled piano and plucked-toy guitar. The rhythm driving forward so steadily, so playfully.

And, of course, the line, "What blows us here today will blow us all away...the breeze will blow us all away."


With only one week in the tiny village of Paraxaj, I did feel that the breeze blew me in and swept me away just as quickly. And like the best music should, Dr. Dog brought out the words I couldn't find.