boolar

I got one of the best birthday presents ever last week. A new friend somehow intuited my love for an album that I have on cd but have been wanting on vinyl ever so desperately (we don’t have a cd player at work, see) and brought me his very own personal copy!

It was about four years ago that Bradley picked up a copy of Bill Nelson’s The Love That Whirls (Diary of a Thinking Heart) on cd, which he found within walking distance of our Inner Sunset apartment at Amoeba Records on Haight Street.

If ever I came home from work or school and couldn’t find Bradley, I knew that he was one of two places: at the corner store, where Bradley’s “friend” would sell him a four-pack of Guinness in the can for seven seventy-five, in which case he would be home within minutes, perhaps with a piece of candy that his friend sent home for me, or he was at Amoeba, where he had no problem losing all memory of the outside world for hours at a time, combing the used cd and records methodically until he had gathered a huge stack of hopefuls which he would then look up in the reference books (which Amoeba thoughtfully kept on hand) for the year, producer, additional musicians, and any other information that would help him decide which he would buy and which he’d pass on.

It was, for me, a torturous process to watch, no matter how effectively it improved our collection. My own method was to check the used “new arrivals” section and then bounce from one place to another, guided by whatever popped into my mind (if ever at a loss, I’d go through the B, M, and S sections only, all are large and full of bands I love). I could never spend more than half an hour under those fluorescent lights and the irritating musical selections of the staff before my head would start to spin and I would just haftagetoutta there.

So now I am realizing that the day he unwittingly introduced me to Bill Nelson, we had already moved to Portland (which for the first several years was some kind of purgatory after the heavenly bliss of the Inner Sunset, a paradise we would try to revisit often… might I note here that I still haven’t found Indian food in all of Portland, let alone within three blocks of home, that can compare with Tasty Curry, where for less than $15 Bradley and I could eat ourselves sick on samosas and biryanis and dahls worth crying over).

So scratch the beginning of the story, here we were back in SF to visit. Bradley had heard all about Mr. Nelson because of his ambient works, and though he’d never heard anything about this particular album, wanted to take a chance on this cd with an elegantly simple black and white design.

He insisted that we put it on as soon as we got into the car (I was not as excited as he, you see, as he’d been putting me through a lot of experimental drone noise at the time, and so I resisted at first). It didn’t take half a minute before his exuberant expectation had given way to huge disappointment, but, boy howdy let me tell you that Bill Nelson rocked my synth-pop socks off from the very first shimmering track.

You like Kraftwerk? Eno’s pop records? Gary Numan or XTC? Give The Love That Whirls a chance.

Eventually, Bradley got what he was looking for from Mr. Nelson on records like Chance Encounters in the Garden of Lights, but I’ve yet to find a record of his that I like better.

And thanks to Daniel, I’ll be playing it in Tiga a lot this summer.

a fish will only get as big as the pond in which it lives.

a flock of geese can only fly as fast as the slowest one.

just some thoughts on the road from pittsburgh to washington, d.c. today.

quick reviews, from most recent back:
*navigating d.c. by car is challenging, and, therefore, fun. the rock and roll hotel is probably a fabulous venue to play because they have french fries with truffle oil on the menu. i’ll let you know. bradley is flying into dulles in about 4 hours. yes, i am excited.

*pittsburgh is weird, old, dirty and clauterphobia-inducing. the boys of 222 north craig with whom we stayed discussed making mashed sweet potatoes with chipotle sauce. they actually made challah bread french toast, eggs, and coffee for breakfast. we love them. manny of the garfield artworks is psychotic in a really delightful way. the sleeping people have entered week three and are speaking (when speaking to one another at all) in esoteric tour inside jokes (sheer tom cockery).

*cleveland is the fattest, poorest city in america. it looks like it. lake erie is pleasant enough for the most polluted of the great lakes. the top bunk in which i slept at the punk rock end-of-the-world commune provided a shocking amount of comfort. highlight: beans and millet/quinoa/buckwheat i was able to make in their kitchen.

*dayton is my favorite midwestern small city. we were most graciously hosted by one ben penry in the fabulously run-downish historic entertainment district (called “Oregon,” pronounced or-eh-gone). saw the new wes anderson film. revelled that i was in bob pollard’s hometown (which he shares with kim deal, you know). met fabulous people, cooked awesome stirfry, yes.

*continued our tour of rapidly gentrifying america in chicago’s logan square, where we crashed with c.j. boyd (of c.j. boyd). loved the apartment, loved the neighborhood, loved the thrifting and the cuban market on armitage and the veggie quesadillas we made. loved walking. once we got in to logan square, i never made it out until we made it out for good. i figure you can either know one small area of a city really well or the whole thing hardly at all. i choose the former, usually. chicago will always remain in my heart the place where i got the warmest, most comfortable insoles ever.

*we met more late-teens and early-twenty-somethings who prove yet again that the kids (some of them, anyhow) really are alright in denver. michael, forest, and i can’t-remember-the-drummer’s-name played rock and roll and then took us back to their sweet little house to listen to records. they love daniel johnston and introduced me to pit-er-pat. yes.

i’m ’bout to spend a week in new york city. maybe i’ll post more soon.

here are the records (off the top of my head) that i always want to hear this year:

the beach boys “love you” (actually, each and every album. “today” is right before “pet sounds” and shows every bit of what’s to come, “friends” is late 60’s and one of my favorites, “love you” is brian’s 1977 comeback… weird, maybe, but seriously good songs, “little deuce coupe” has “no-go showboat” and “custom machine,” worth the price of admission on their own, i can’t say enough about “farmer’s daughter” from “surfin’ u.s.a.” and “good timin’” off “l.a. light,” which is not only my favorite song right now, but probably the last great thing brian put out until he presented “smile” earlier this century)

randy newman “sail away” (if you don’t love it, you aren’t human)

genesis “the lamb lies down on broadway” “selling england by the pound” & “foxtrot” (take note: phil is in fact a fantastic drummer (and back-up singer)… check out the extended crazy-time breakdown on “cinema show” for proof of the first)

r.e.m. “chronic town” (it goes by way too quickly. check out that jangle.)

wendy (walter) carlos “switched on bach” (not.just.a.novelty.)

the beatles “sgt pepper’s lonely hearts club band” (it’s never too late)

hans joachim roedelius “selbsporttrait II” & “wenn der sudwind weht” (he even has a myspace these days! what a hip old man)

his name is alive “home is in your head” & “mouth by mouth”

young marble giants “colossal youth“