Cover art for our new CD 4xEP...
In-between, managed to escape the icy clutches of the near-Eastside to see (for the first-time, shame on me) the best American band of the past quarter-century: Yo La Tengo. Post-brewpub pints & burgers, we caught both halves of their set, the first of which was decided by the spin of a wheel. Though I was rooting for a Condo Fucks set, I was pleasantly surprised by DUMP, as bassist James McNew took over Ira's axe(s) and played a stellar, pretty clean and vibrato-y set of guitar-pop numbers. Plus a shredfest at the end, and the dude can shred. The second half of the set was not surprising, but allowed for all the YLT tropes. After classic mellow-organ-and-polyrhythm opener "Autumn Sweater", there was the R&B skronk of recent jam "Periodically Double or Triple". Other highlights were Summer Sun standout "Little Eyes", and on the opposite side of the noise-spectrum, aged guitar-freakout proto-punk blast of "Artificial Heart". There was the requisite noise-kraut jam which saw Ira switching guitars, James roughhousing his bass into his full-stack, loads of feedback closing out their set pre-encore. The encore was mostly quiet & acoustic, a warming coda on a below-zero night.
Pretty much ready for a road-trip to India.
After watching quirky doc Home Movie earlier in the week (a must-see for the Gator Farm owner alone), on a whim we watched director Chris Smith's more recent offering The Pool, a serious comedy/coming-of-age tale in Hindi, set in the beautiful city of Goa. Besides making me want to travel immediately, it was an unexpectedly great movie. The dialog was warm in tone, funny, poignant, smart; the colors fantastically vivid yet real, the locations full of dusty beauty. Unfortunately, you have to compare it to Slumdog Millionaire, but I feel like The Pool is much more realistic and touching in its depth. Just an excellent story.
Get out of my head, Robert Blake. With your no-eyebrows face and glistening hair!
Last night we had a double feature of Lost Highway and...Aziz Ansari: Intimate Moments for a Sensual Evening. After the anxiety-ridden creepitude of another Lynch feature, I guess I just needed a palate-cleanser. Lost Highway, upon second viewing, may be my favorite non-Peaks Lynch creation. The story circles around on itself, the sense of suffocation and dread is fairly thick throughout, and the pace is deliberately slow yet carries momentum. Clearly going to need a third viewing. As for Aziz, his post-meta-whatever style does hold water; story-jokes about messing with a younger cousin via-Facebook and hanging out with Kanye both carry weight. For someone who's schtick is so heavy on "not-giving-a-fuck", all the intra-family joking was extra-funny to see. Meta, indeed.