Archive for March 2009

If Cormac McCarthy wrote for Sports Illustrated

28 Mar 2009

March came sputtering with requisite Madness and brackets and young men worshipped by their peers and fathers. Harsh dusty winds unnoticed outside stadium gates, the multitudes locked inside. Penned in. By their projections and regrets and sadness.

Devendorf rode into Memphis alone. Griffin was already there. Devendorf spoke first, as always.

Back from Ecuador

24 Mar 2009

Sometimes it takes a week at the equator to realize what’s really important in this life. And I don’t plan on ever being away from the blog for so long again. I know it’s been hard for all of you; it’s been hard for me, too. Harder than you’ll ever know. I just don’t want it to be that hard ever again.

That’s what she said.


Expand on that: Jackson C. Frank and Nick Drake

12 Mar 2009

People are always saying to me, “Hey, Hornblower, why don’t you write about music on your third-place Web log?” I usually tell them to leave me alone and let me finish the crossword puzzle, but sometimes I listen.

Instead of writing about the new hep cats, I’d like to mention someone who died exactly ten years and one week ago: Jackson C. Frank. I found out about him in high school through a Nick Drake cover of Frank’s song “Milk and Honey,” which cover appears on Drake’s Home Recordings album as well as the Fruit Tree box set. After listening to Frank’s sole, self-titled album, I saw the similarities in their music, and after reading about Frank’s life I saw the unfortunate similarities in their fates. Like Drake, Frank found little mainstream success during his lifetime, but was well-respected among his fellow musicians — Paul Simon produced his album, and with Art Garfunkel covered his “Blues Run The Game.” Frank’s discography is even briefer than Drake’s, however, with just the début to his credit.

Dark was the night, cold was the ground

11 Mar 2009

Hello, dedicated readers. I have a lovely thank-you gift for you; I hope you find it useful.

The gift is a presale password to the Dark Was The Night Live concert at Radio City Music Hall. In case you didn’t know…

Whoa, hey now Pitchfork!

08 Mar 2009

First of all, it takes like a hundred thousand minutes to load, man oh man. Second of all, there’s this big old iPod touch advert that dominates the top of the screen. Third of all, the links on the top of the page make it look like every other music Web site (Brooklyn Vegan, Stereogum, et cetera).

Hilton Als just can’t stop watching Helen Mirren in “Prime Suspect”

07 Mar 2009

I’m writing this on my iPhone. I’ve been in this room for 36 hours and I don’t see an exit. I don’t know how I got here or where I am, and I don’t know who put me in here. This room, it’s so white. So clean. I can’t breathe, it’s so white in here. Everything except for the television. That goddamn television. Forever playing the same goddamn thing. I’ve been watching Series 4 of Prime Suspect the whole 36 hours, but I don’t see a DVD player anywhere. Someone is out there controlling this, and it’s scaring the hell out of me.

Liveblogging U2 at Fordham … Sort Of

06 Mar 2009

Well, it’s not exactly live, but it was when I wrote it. So deal with it.

6:44 We’ve been inside for about half an hour and I’m just bodying people left and right, with no regard for safety or decency. There is an aura of despair that pervades this space and seeps through our pores and lives in our veins. There is a man in a grey suit talking all sorts of crazy jive; he’s the hypeman, and I guess it’s his responsibility to keep us entertained before the U2 get here. He asks where people are from and when someone says Sweden, he says that we can all expect massages after the show. I find it repulsive that he would traffic in such baseless stereotypes just for a laugh (which laugh, it should be noted, he did not receive). At first people were accepting of this grey suit man, but the good will evaporated somewhat quickly. It may have been that people were accepting of him when he was joking about their still being drunk and not having gone to sleep the previous night. Basically, when grey suit man stopped talking about the drunkenness of the students, he lost them.

7:00 The hosts of Good Morning America show their faces. Robin Roberts looking good. Sam Champion keeps the crowd wanting more. Savvy move. It’s worth noting, that although I’ve never seen GMA, I knew the hosts’ names, and I was really confused. I was expecting someone else to be there. And a few others, too


U2 at 5:30 a.m. tomorrow? Count me out.

05 Mar 2009

Talk about lame. Who would wake up at 5:00 a.m. just to eat some lame-o oatmeal and mush and then go to the lame-o grassy quadrangle to sit around in the lame-o cold for hours and watch some lame-o Irishmen sing about boots? I lay even money that Edward’s Parade is a ghost town tomorrow morning. Ghost Town. And not the awesome type of ghost town. The lame-o, boring type of ghost town. Oh, well. I’ll be sitting pretty with my paper stacked high, with the ladies thinking all about the pie in the sky.

03 Mar 2009

Everyone else thinks of Gil Scott-Heron and gets confused whenever you read “Guillermo Scott Herren” (a.k.a. Prefuse 73), right? So weird.

These things come in waves

03 Mar 2009

Grizzly Bear coming to Town Hall on 28th and 29th May, let’s see what they’ve got! Hit me, Droste! Hit me, Rossen! En garde, Taylor! En garde, Bear! I wonder if they’ll blow up by then like Animal Collective did between the announcement of the Grand Ballroom show and the show itself. I suspect they may, because Pitchfork will probably give them a 9.6, too. There it is, I’m calling it.

David Byrne, who also played this past Saturday, is also coming back to the area; on 3rd June (exactly three months from now!) he’ll play a show at the Wellmont Theatre in New Jersey. Not sure

Update: Now that the Grizzly Bear album has leaked, I’ll see if I actually think it deserves a 9.6, or if it’s really only a 9.5 or 9.4; there really is a huge difference. Good thing Pitchfork’s rating system is so precise. And that its review is the only thing that matters. Thank goodness. Holy Cow. Makes me long for the good old days of