Wait, you're not any smarter than I am, are you?

I got one of those "remember when" text messages the other night when Neal checked in to ask if I remembered an ill-fated late night bike ride to try and get a new Dave Matthews album in college. It's worth pointing out that we had no really solid idea of where the Best Buy was in Green Bay, my bike and fitness levels should have precluded me from trying this and it was the middle of the night when we started out (midnight CD release). Neal got it right when he concluded, "We're lucky we're not dead after that."

He has a totally valid point.

It's interesting to look back now and see just how determined we were to be the first kids in our dorm to grab the new album (Before These Crowded Streets, for the record). I have two, maybe three DMB songs on my iPod right now and really, I can't think of many reasons to be anywhere at midnight any more, aside from on my couch watching a movie or playing video games. That's just the hard driving rock and roll lifestyle I now lead.

The piece I've really been rolling around for some time now (that's where I was in the 18 months since the last post here!) is just how much your perception shifts as you get older and have the pleasure (or displeasure) of hanging around with musicians.

There's a definite point where it hits you that your buddy's band, which means so very much to at least a handful of people, is very likely full of shit. A few seconds pass and it hits you that your favorite bands are likely similarly full of shit.

Let me explain.

You get a new album and you furiously tear the plastic off and (if you're like me) cram that sucker into your car's CD player as fast as you can, sometimes with those stupid security stickers still attached to the CD itself. Then, you wait for something to grab you.

I normally don't know songs word for word when I buy a CD anymore, but I track down the songs that appeal to me musically, then start figuring out just what the hell they're singing about. It's an odd little afterthought in most cases.

Rarely do I pore over music like I used to, finding meaning in the lyrics that will give me clues about how to deal with a girlfriend or make it through the week or effectively fight the man. In short, I'm a little let down that music doesn't hit me like it used to. Granted, it hits me differently now, so I'm not a total robot, but I no longer turn to recording artists to explain my life to me or offer glimpses as to what it all means.

This is for the better, as hours spent in the company of musicians has taught me that they're by no means any wiser to the mysteries of the world and humanity than I am in most cases (in some cases, they are much, much dumber). It stops me just short of feeling sheepish for giving the idols of my teenage years so much credibility in my own mind, but I now find it oddly soothing when I catch a lyric or verse that makes me feel accepted or vindicated.

In short, I've gone from listening to albums for the answers to listening to them for the echoes.

Songs can now remind me of times in my life, specific people or trips or moments that we try to hold onto. "That's the song I listened to a lot when I drove to the hospital to see my son when he was born (Roger Clyne, Contraband). That's the song that reminds me of so-and-so's failed marriage (The Bottle Rockets, Gravity Fails). That's the song Neal played when he was showing me his new Harman Kardon speakers (Norah Jones, Don't Know Why)."

Again, not having any more or less insight than anyone else, I know I'm not the first to privately marvel at music's ability to serve as a cheap time machine, but the shift in how I interact with music has been something I'm cognizant of lately. The lyrics are still important, but are no longer the gospel I once assumed they were.

It's like Oasis sang when they said, "Don't put your life in the hands / of a rock and roll band / Who'll throw it all away."

Or something like that. I have a hard time keeping track these days.

(Image from: Metal-rules.com)

Sometimes hip hop is weird

By now, most of mainstream America is aware that Kanye West's mother, Dr. Donda West, died and that it looks like the surgery shouldn't have happened - at least by the doctor who operated. Expect What Would Tyler Durden Do? to start getting spammed by angry fans within the hour.

I'll say this for the guy - he's got bigger balls than I do for making jokes right now. I just wouldn't want to be in his shoes when Kanye snaps out of this in a few weeks.

I was checking in on AllHipHop.com, a favorite of Frank the Tank to see if there was any new information this evening after some of the other blogs shut down. While the official statements from the family were all what you'd expect as they're still mourning and making arrangements.

Then, you scoll down to the comments section and there are a whole series of avatars that probably have been screened by the users before they made the post.

While I'm sure Kanye can appreciate the outpouring of support, does anyone want to see an animated .gif of a woman walking upstairs in a thong in a tribute post to their mother?

OK, aside from Larry Flynt?

(Image from: BBC.co.uk)

Picking your wedding music, a handy guide

While I was told I'd play a significant role in picking the music for the wedding, I'm quickly learning that my level of involvement will be largely ceremonial. This should be a familiar theme for any married men or any grooms-to-be.

Apparently my selections - culled from nearly 1,000 songs screened on a six-hour drive from Chicago to Minneapolis on Sunday - are going to be taken under advisement, but will likely be overruled.

Anyone who can't appreciate the wedding party walking in to Quincy Jones' epic composition, The Streetbeater - aka the theme from Sanford and Son - doesn't belong at my wedding, simple as that.

Still, I will cling to my hopes that Cold Lampin' With Flavor will be played in breaks between the band's sets. It's really all I have left.

For anyone else just beginning the process now, I offer the following observations:

* It appears that most of my musical library falls into two categories - the Old 97s and rap. So, if anyone who is attending the wedding is planning on dance lessons before October, I suggest paying attention to "urban" and "two step" in the class.

* You'd be amazed at how many songs are inappropriate for family functions. They are usually some of my favorites.

* The same goes for songs to fast to be "slow songs" and too slow to be real dance floor anthems. This was a major shock to my system.

* Despite my love for Shimmy Shimmy Ya I can't in good conscience, play Old Dirty Bastard at a wedding, no matter how awesome it would be. And believe me, it would be awesome.

* Be careful of songs you really, really like now. While I'm sure you love the new rock ballad of the week, are you sure you want Nickelback forever linked with your wedding? No, no one wants that. Not even the guys in Nickelback.

* You have a choice to make - Show off your musical tastes and complete of distrust of the mainstream music industry or people having fun and shaking their asses? Let's face it, no one plays The Polyphonic Spree at school dances for a reason.

That's what your wedding has essentially become - your very own high school dance, including the requisite amount of drama and alcohol-induced stupidity.

* Keep in mind people will know the names of the songs. Grandma will listen to the most inappropriate lyrics, much like a sitcom character who will hear the most incriminating portion of a conversation.

Aimee Mann's I've Had It is a perfect example of problems here. Same with Pete Yorn's Just Anotherr Girl.

* You're going to want to listen for objectionable lyrics four or five times, minimum. Songs that sound like a lyrical recap of an hour of playing Grand Theft Auto might not go over so well with the cottontops.

(Image from: ArtistDirect.com)

The dark side

I'd held off on the MySpace pressure for as long as I could, but Disconnected in Suburbia has finally broken down my spirit.

The funny thing is that I was poking around the site when it was still primarily used to promote bands because most of the show promoters lose CDs as often as most people urinate, so it was cheaper to send a link with a music sampler already enclosed.

To be honest, I thought it was interesting enough, but clumsy and sorta ugly. It's still pretty clumsy - at least off the bat - but there's really no stopping it now, huh, campers?

Anyways, if you're into that sort of thing, head over to http://www.myspace.com/minneapolisredsox and check things out. If you're not streaming RSS feeds, I'll be updating blog posts here on MySpace now and at the very least you can hear the new Nas track.

There's got to be something said for that, right?

A musical sandbox

Surf over the SpliceMusic.com if you're bored over the long holiday.

It's a link I picked up from G4's Attack of the Show and it lets you mix and match from sound clips, drum loops and different samples that people upload.

I tacked on mine below, so feel free to build off of it, or just bask in my awesomeness.

Go ahead, I can wait, you basking SOB's.

God, please don't let this man save SNL

I'd be interested to hear what teenagers think of Saturday Night Live, considering it's been a punchline for as long as they've known.

And not a good kind of punchline, either, but the kind where it represents all that sucks about sketch comedy.

While stars have emerged from the show since the early days, most didn't find their stride until they were edging towards the door and lining up movie careers anyways.

Lately, SNL has begun to put up a bit of a fight and today was the first time in a while I've heard someone ask if I saw the show this weekend. You'll find Justin Timberlake singing about putting his dick in a box at the bottom of the post.

Still, the common thread in all of the "did you see..." buzz has been Andy Samberg. Should this worry me as much as it does?

It'd have conclusions you'd jump to!

I read the comments made by Kanye West at the MTV Europe Music awards and immediately e-mailed Frankie.

I asked him if he saw it as the hop-hop version of the Office Space meltdown about, "I'm a people person, dammit!"

Frankie thinks it's the hip-hop Jump to Conclusions mat.

I'm torn.

Also, I've watched this damned thing a few times, and I can't tell if he's kidding or not. I really can't. Also, after seeing the video that he lost to, he just might be right.

It looks like a bunch of hungover guys trashing an IKEA. Not really cutting edge. Or jumping canyons and shit.