Dorm music

I meant to hate Vampire Weekend, but I don’t.
I hate seeing them on the cover of Spin magazine looking like they just finished a Land’s End photoshoot.
I hate the idea of them, those Ivy League pansies, but I don’t hate their music.
Considering that I actually attend a rich little liberal arts college, it seems kind of hypocritical to want to hate them, but I can’t help it. I don’t think it’s a rivalry thing at all– I never meant to go anywhere but where I am– I think maybe it’s left over from Kansas.
Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter, because that’s some pretty good pop.

And since I’m so ok with Vampire Weekend and their social status and their educational status, I guess it’s ok for me to make music too. Not that these are analogous situations, because I know nothing about music or Afro-pop, and I only wear polo shirts once a week.

But it’s the New Age of music (as always) and it’s coinciding with the New Age of my life (whatever that means), so let me present Three Good Men. The band name is supposed to be two jokes, one about gender dysphoria and one about Flannery O’Connor. I’m glad I explained it so it could still be funny. The album is (will be) called Famous Austin Goes to Town, because it is a children’s tape at heart.

Broken Toes and Racism

I broke my toes. Just two of them, the third and fourth on my right foot.

Luckily this has not yet impeded my dancing ability. I’m beginning to suspect that they are not in fact broken, but it is also true that my pain receptors do not work correctly.

This is not about my toes. This is about LIFE.

So speaking of things that are broken, I know this really great guy. Yeah, he’s really great and smart and a little obnoxious but funny enough that it’s ok. Anyway I also know of this really cute girl and she likes him, but he has said he won’t date her because she’s white, so they must be culturally different since he’s black. That makes very little sense to me. He grew up in the gol durn suburbs. He doesn’t even suck, usually.

So that’s kind of stupid, and if you are bothered about that type of thing, you should read “Brownies” by ZZ Packer. It’s good.

Or you can forget all that stuff and listen to Say Hi. Umm… don’t let the comparison to Nada Surf fool you… they don’t suck, ever.

The fates and my Zune

Yes, Zune. Yes, I am less anti-social than you. No, I am not more practical than you.

In a somewhat frightening move, I put my Zune on shuffle while I watched Davidson upset Georgetown in the NCAA tournament play. Like that surprise rotten Easter egg you’ll uncover in a couple weeks, this allowed me to discover some tracks that I used to think were great but stink now. The cool thing about this analogy is that it can also be expressed this way:

rotten Easter eggs : today’s tracks :: Kansas University : 2008 Men’s Basketball National Champs

That is because they are the same. Or rather, will be.

Anyway, this whole music experience was fairly upsetting, so I naturally responded by forming what is probably the most sustainable playlist ever. These are like plastic Easter eggs. Or maybe like oysters with their regenerating pearls or something. Oh. Like argyle sweaters obviously. This site is tedious already.

I promise I will still listen to this playlist in 10 years if I am not dead.

1. Wraith Pinned to the Mist and Other Games -Of Montreal
2. King of Carrot Flowers Part 1 -Neutral Milk Hotel
3. The Needle Has Landed -Neko Case
4. Reservations -Wilco
5. Shasta Heavy -Foot Foot
6. Metal Heart -Cat Power
7. Slow Show -The National
8. Don’t Call Me Whitney, Bobby -The Islands
9. Carolina -M. Ward
10. It Wasn’t Me -Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins
11. Freeze the Saints – Stephen Malkmus
12. Stuck Between Stations -The Hold Steady
13. Indian Summer -Pedro the Lion
14. Knife -Grizzly Bear
15. Rebellion (Lies) -The Arcade Fire
16. Jerusalem -Mirah

Perfection

One of my extremely famous friends has recently decided to adjourn on the path to perfection.
Besides for this being a stupid idea, it brings up a very boring question that everybody always talks about. Still, this is not the fanny pack page, it is the argyle page, so it is thematically defensible to explore threadbare but strangely enticing subjects.
So, what is perfection?
For a while I figured it was just an American spelling of Obama, but recently I’ve been having second thoughts. I don’t like rich white people either, but they do wear a lot of cool sweaters, which is a point any rational person would consider.
At one point it seemed like perfection was Michael Jordan, but his stint with the Wizards made him look about as magic as Shaq.
I’m pretty sure, ultimately, that perfection does not exist in any form more pure than The National’s most recent album Boxer. Paste Magazine calls it the best of 2007, but the biggest trick of perfection is longevity. The National’s layered instrumentals and deep, resonant vocals get better with every listen, so allow me to mystically predict that it will also be the best album of 2008. Which doesn’t make sense, until you admit to yourself that the listening experience is practically reinvented with every listen. It’s not lyric-driven, but the words are every bit as poignant as The Mountain Goats… just with a far more ambiguous application.
The music sounds at times like an orchestral waterfall, crashing into the undercurrent of singer Matt Berninger’s rumbling vocals. Listen to it during thunderstorms, on too-bright mornings, on gross muggy nights, or on glorious walks through meadows of dainty, effervescent (?) wildflowers… you won’t find any weather or mood that can’t be considered in conjunction with this sound.
Excuse the previous poetry. It is idyllic because I am sullying The National by calling them Perfect.
Don’t worry about it. They will rise above my groveling words.
Maybe my famous friend’s next viral video will sound a little more like this