Cutest Kid Ever?

Where did this kid come from?

Sunday Night Special

My arm has now been in the toilet twice tonight, once to retrieve a bouncy ball, once to retrieve Donald Duck. Thank you, Curtis.

NYC Day Four: Yom Kippur at David Letterman

Monday in the city was the final sprint on our four day whirlwind. We headed to Midtown to drop our luggage off at Noah and Allison's work and then went across the street to Rockefeller Center. Rather than stand in the megaline at the Empire State building, we took in a similar view from Top of the Rock. (Well worth the $20/person ticket.)

We then clocked in the only real shopping of the entire trip, about an hour at H&M. Traci was satisfied.

Armed with a couple of bags of clothes, we headed toward The Late Show. We stopped at the Stagecoach Deli, just around the corner from the Ed Sullivan Theater. We got two lousy half sandwiches, two Cokes, and some ornery service for $30. Boo.



We checked in at Letterman (stood in line for a few minutes, got our tickets, stood in line a few more minutes, and were then told to come back in an hour.) We went to Times Square to kill some time and were pleased to find that we were right in the middle of Turkish Days.



Back at the Late Show, we again stood in line out on the sidewalk while the interns worked to get us excited and ready to unleash riotous laughter and the hint of any joke. ("If a guest says something that you think might be funny, pretend it's the funniest thing you've ever heard." I feel bad for the audience who laughed a few days later when Dave made his unfunny announcement.)

I loved everything about Letterman. Once escorted into the much-smaller-than-I-expected Ed Sullivan Theater, we were warmed up by pre-show comedian, the Late Show Band (minus Paul Shaffer, who was celebrating Yom Kippur), and and this old school clip of Dave Letterman working at Taco Bell.

Right before the taping began, Dave came out for about two minutes to chat with the crowd. The show took off from there, running like a well-oiled machine. I laughed from start to finish (Traci told me to not laugh too much as "She wanted to watch the show, not be on the show." I refrained from doing anything stupid, for which Traci was grateful), from the opening monologue, through the not-so-interesting guests (Felicity Huffman, Dr. Oz). As avid fans of The Hills, Traci and I were super excited about Brody Jenner reading the Top 10 list.

I even loved the Avett Brother's performance, and I am now in love with the title song from their new album. (As they started playing, with their banjo, cello, and cowboy getup, Traci turned to me and said, dejected, "This is what music sounds like now, huh?")

Just over an hour after the taping began, we were back on the street, pleased with the experience but a bit sad that it was time to go back home...

NYC Day Three: Sabbath in the City

On Sunday we were back on our own again. To make it to our matinee of Traci's beloved "Bye Bye Birdie," we wouldn't be able to go to the Riley's ward in Harlem. Instead, we went to a ward at the Manhattan Temple. So we headed to the subway on a rainy Sunday morning.

Despite being in New York, and despite being inside of a temple, church was just church. Same fold-up chairs in the overflow section and same Mighty Lite tables propped up against the back wall. The biggest difference was that we were free to watch people wrestle with their kids rather than wrestle with our own. After the meeting, we changed our clothes and snuck back out into the city.

Everyone asked where we ate while we were in New York. Well, the Sutherlands just aren't culinary experts. Case in point: between church and "Bye Bye Birdie" we stopped at the McDonald's in Times Square.

Our first Broadway play was no disappointment. Traci squealed in delight as she saw her high school theater days come to life on the big stage. I perked up momentarily when sassy Gina Gershon was in a negligee for a split second. We both got a kick out of Uncle Jesse's (aka John Stamos) squeaky voice and flubbed lines.

After the show we met up with the Rileys for a Sunday afternoon stroll through Central Park. As the Rileys took us off the beaten path and through the misty foliage, it was more like we were wandering through the forests of "The Princess Bride" than walking through the middle of the city.

Back outside of the park, we walked around the Upper West Side, past the Guggenheim, The Met, and all throughout Gossip Girl territory. (You can actually pay to go on a Gossip Girl bus tour. Traci says she would have been game had we been staying a few more days.)

The rest of the evening was spent having dinner and conversation with the Rileys. Not a bad way to end a Sunday.

NYC Day Two: These Boots Were Made for Walking

Of our four quick days of vacation, day two was our favorite. After treating us to homemade crepes, Noah and Allison took us all the way down to Brooklyn. We briefly walked around the "Art Under the Bridge" exhibit (where we learned that a chubby naked lady sitting in a see-through tent is art) and then across the bridge itself. Though it took some concentration to not get run over by cyclists or run into the back of tourist groups, the views from the bridge were awesome.





From there, Noah and Allison thoughtfully toured us through the lower half of Manhattan; Allison handled the navigation while Noah wowed us with all of the factoids he's gathered from his "Skyscrapers" coffee table book.

We wandered through Tribeca, Little Italy, and Chinatown. After a stop for lunch (Sal's Pizza in Little Italy), we continued through SoHo, Washington Square Park (where I tried to join the hackeysack team), and the West Village (I think).

It was nice to get away from Midtown's mass of people and see the parts of the city where it would actually be cool to live. We can't thank Noah and Allison enough for showing us all the places we would have missed had we been on our own.

Our favorite spot was High Line Park, an old elevated train line that was recently converted into a urban, hipster paradise park.

At the end of the line, the park drops down into an amphitheater of big steps, where you can seat in front of a Plexiglas window overlooking the street below. Now that's art.





We made it all the way to the Flat Iron Building before the Sutherland's feet gave out. We gave in and took the subway to Times Square where we viewed a real architectural feat, the combination of devil's food cake and cheesecake (Traci's dream come true) at Junior's.



From there, we headed back to Harlem. We stopped by the Seinfeld cafe and then headed to the beloved H&M. (It was quite a contrast to be on the hip hop streets of Harlem one second and in the gay disco of H&M the next. And to make things even better, of course the elders were there, looking for new scarves.)

By the time we made it back to Casa de Riley, we were exhausted from the day's awesomeness.

NYC Day One: The Light in Traci's Eyes

Joseph Beuys' felt suit: Allison's favorite display at the MoMa

Eating Greek food outside the MoMa, when a bearded 20-something approaches us.

BEARDY: [To all] Do you like my clothes?

ALL: Uh, yeah.

BEARDY: [To me] Do you like my hair?

ME: It's okay, I guess.

BEARDY: [To all] Do you like my shoes?

NOAH: Yes.

BEARDY: They're just normal shoes.

BEARDY: [To Traci] What is your name?

TRACI: Traci Sutherland.

BEARDY: What are your parents' names?

TRACI: Drew and Cathie.

BEARDY: [To Traci] You have a light in your eyes. [Walks away.]

ALLISON: [To Traci] He just stole your identity.

TRACI: My parents' last name is not Sutherland. Ha! Joke's on him.

NYC Day One: Bright Lights, Big City

After the Harbor Tour, we met up with the Riley's at Radio City Music Hall, about a block away from where they work. We stopped for dinner at a little Greek food cart for gyros and kebabs (this was my favorite meal of the trip) and then headed to the MoMA.

SIDE NOTE: Noah and Allison are hosting guests nearly every week. So you have to imagine they do alot of these touristy things over and over. Noah escorted us to the museum, despite it being his millionth time. Allison headed off on her own to do a bit of baby shower shopping. I was shocked by Noah allowing Allison to leave, as I couldn't imagine either Traci or me being alone in the city for one second without being kidnapped. Apparently, when you live in New York you don't have to fear for your life all the time. Phew.

Friday night is free (my favorite word) night at the MoMA. We did a whirlwind one-hour tour before it closed. Highlights included Van Gogh's "Starry Night," Warhol's "Car Crash," and the exhibit on Dutch artists.

There's also a lot of how-can-that-be-art art at the MoMA. Here's Noah standing in front of three paintings that are just white:



After the museum, we cruised down 5th Avenue, stopped by Rockefeller Center, checked out Grand Central Station, and ended at Times Square or, as I like to call it, the place where marketing goes to vomit.

We survived our first day! As a congratulatory guesture, the Rileys offered us ice cream and homemade limeade. We did it.

NYC Day One: It's Go Time

We couldn't celebrate our successful trip to Harlem forever. After nap time, it was back to the subway. It's funny that after just a couple of hours in New York, I was already feeling disappointed that I hadn't seen any of the things TV had conditioned me to hope for in the Big Apple--e.g., spontaneous rap battles or, I don't know, a mugging. (My boss Tami gave me plenty of advice about what to do if I was mugged. "Give the wallet, but throw it on the ground. Throw it on the ground and run!")

Luckily my disappointment quickly dissolved, when on the way to BatteryPark, a troupe of breakdancers came into our train, turned on their boombox and started showing their stuff. I wanted to take a picture but was too busy trying not to get kicked in the head as one of the dudes was backflipping one inch away from my nose. (Click here for a similar performance.)

Even better, over by the harbor boats, I watched as a half dozen fake-designer-bag salesmen deftly rolled up their entire inventory in seconds and took off running down the street when the cops headed their way.

I also ate a subpar, street-vendor hotdog (Traci had a pizza pretzel. It was the most disgusting thing either of us had ever eaten), so I was able to knock out most of the NYC cliches in just one afternoon. Oh, and I also watched two harbor tour security employees get mad at each other, with the female employing yelling, "Somebody better hold me down. Hold me down!"



Once on the boat, we had a very nice trip past the Statue of Liberty and a enjoyable visit to Ellis Island. We found that Traci's great grandmother passed through there. Traci thought about paying to have the folks at Ellis Island print her off some genealogical records, then felt guilty about not just going downtown and doing the same thing for free at the Church History Library.



Before heading back to Midtown to meet Noah and Allison, we walked past the construction site that is Ground Zero and to the storefront "WTC Memorial Preview," where there are some 9-11 tribute pieces as well as some renderings of what things will look like when all is complete in 2011.

NYC Day One: Hazy and Lost in the Subway

I'm not good with directions. ("Not good," is probably a little weak. "Atrocious" may be a better fit.) To make up for this, I like to have plenty of explicit written instructions. I made Noah (and my coworker Tim) walk me step-by-step through every detail from landing at JFK to getting to his house in Harlem. When we finally landed, after a sleepless, neck wrenching night on JetBlue's redeye, I felt confident that I could get us there.

That confidence dissipated the second we left the airport.

We struggled with buying our AirTrain card, then we struggled with getting our week-long Metro card. (The helpful train helpers weren't so helpful.) And then we headed for the train. We had two choices: Manhattan or Far Rockaway. Noah confirmed over the phone that we were to head toward Manhattan and we on our way.

The travel book I'd been consulting for our pre-trip planning said something like "Gone are the days of dirty subways and neon-lit stations." Seemed like that must have been a typo. We entered the old, dank train car with our heavy luggage and took an even heavier breath.

After we'd been on the train for a few minutes, I started looking for signs that we were actually going the right way. None of the stops were on my little map and I was starting to worry we were headed in the wrong direction. Since my map only showed Manhattan, my mind started telling me we were just getting further and further from where we needed to be. Which, in addition to getting us lost, would also us make us late for the key-pickup that needed to happen before Noah and Allison headed to work. Panic-y, panic-y Spencer, who kept singing The Ramones' "Rockaway Beach" in his head.

After ages, we finally saw a stop we recognized. Hallelujah! We were on the right path. (I didn't know how far JFK was from Manhattan, way on the other side of Queens.) We successfully transferred to the D Train as Noah had instructed and lugged our stuff up the stairs when we made it to Harlem.

Once outside the subway, we quickly learned that we were the whitest people on the planet.



We successfully turned right, went under the bridge, turned right again, went past Jimbo's Famous Hamburgers and to the Riley residence. We were greated by two smiling Rileys and Noah's famous German pancakes.

We did it. We made it from the airport to our first destination without dying. My first fear had been overcome. Our hosts left for work and we passed out on their bed, exhausted. Hello, New York City. You haven't gottent the best of us, yet.

(Come to find out later, we kind of took the wrong route to the Rileys, going all the way to the bottom of Manhattan and then back up again. That's why it was taking so long and why we were on the rundown train. We found out on the return trip that the E Train cars are a lot nicer and the helpful helpers are much helpful-er.)

Tweet Tweet

I've added my Twitter feed to the right hand side of the Manifesto, which means the posts won't show up if you're reading this in Google Reader or the likes. If you want to follow my tweets (and, I'm sure you will, since they're about music and, you know, The Hills) on Reader, subscribe to www.twitter.com/sutang3000.

Trip is Officially Over

Back to the grind.

Heading Home

Couldn't have asked for a better trip or better hosts. Excited to see the kids.

Are you ready for us, Dave?

Freedom Flight

Traci has held onto my arm this entire trip as to not get stolen. Magically, the second we enter the H&M, she lets go.

Top of the Rock

We Love You Conrad...

John Stamos was not much of an actor, but Uncle Jesse still has a special place in our hearts. Plus we saw the Naked Cowboy right after, so it was a good trip to Broadway.

trip to Broadway.

On the Edge of Her Seat

Bye Bye Birdie is about to begin, marking Traci's most anticipated moment of the trip. I hope to stay awake.

Boy are my legs tired

Noah and Allison walked us across all of Manhattan today. Excellent tour. Traveling is much less stressful when you just have to walk behind the guy in the blue shirt and the girl in the red jacket.

One Day Down

We survived our first day in the city. Details will follow about fake bags, break dancing, and transvestites. Too sleepy tonight.

Mission 1 Complete

After a very long train ride, we made it to Noah's house. You don't scare us, New York (but you have made us very tired).

Still Friends?

This trip will be the most uninterrupted time with Traci in like 4 years. We'll see how long it takes for her to get sick of me.

On our way

We made it to the airport after 8 hours of cleaning the house for grandma. Traci shed a few tears when we ditched the kids. It's a little tough leaving the monsters behind.

Meet My Friend Dave

I got a call from my friend Dave Letterman this morning. Well, not Dave himself, but Lisa, his lovely audience assistant. After correctly answering the trivia question (Allen Kalter's red hair) we were awarded the tickets.

Lisa then went on to ask me about our travel plans and even helped me arrange the quickest way to the airport after the show. (That's why I'm worried about missing our flight--we're heading straight from the Ed Sullivan Theater to JFK, in rush hour, with all our luggage. Pray for us.)

Anyhoo, watch Dave on Monday night and look for us. I'm sure we'll be on the front row.

Preparations

Packing for four days of vacation is much easier than packing for four days of your kids staying home.

New York City Bound...

Tonight we head to the big city. This will be my first trip to NYC, a second for Traci. As Traci is mourning (and I will soon be) the end of her 20's, combined with an invitation to sleep on the floor from our good friends The Rileys, it seemed like the perfect time to go.

I've always wanted to see New York and my excitement is only rivaled by my usual travel anxieties. Cross your fingers that we don't miss any flights (my number one fear) or get lost on the subway (number two). And while you're at it, say a prayer that Paige and Curtis do well with the many Pearsons and Sutherlands who will try to entertain them while we're away.

Recent Reviews

Pearl Jam - The Back Spacer
Funnest Pearl Jam album in many years. Still not amazing. I am, however, in love with The Fixer [MP3].

Jay-Z - The Blue Print 3
Jay's getting a bit lazy, but the girls (Alicia Keys, Rihanna) do a good job. Check out Run This Town (feat. Rihanna, Kanye) [MP3].

Lymbyc Systym - Carved By Glaciers
If you love ambient, lo-fi electronica, I'd highly recommend this one.

fun. - Aim and Ignite
Lead singer of The Format is good, but not as good, without his old band.

The Used - Artwork
The Utah emos are still angry, but not angry enough for my taste.

Brave World Travelers

Traci and I are heading to New York with the terrorist alert as high as its been since 911. Hope no one bombs Bye Bye Birdie.

Traci goes to preschool.

We were worried that 3 hours of school would be too long for Paige. She's been fine. Traci, however, has to volunteer at the school today and once again thinks 3 hours is way too long. Hopefully she (Traci) will get a treat at the end.

Dreaming of NYC

Literally. Hopefully I'll sleep better tonight.

Itchy & Scratchy

This afternoon Paige has been scratching her head. She seems to be okay but now I'm paranoid that I have lice all over me. So itchy.

Props to Chris Walla

Everyone knows that Death Cab for Cutie guitarist Chris Walla is a great producer (Nada Surf, Hot Hot Heat, Postal Service), but I wasn't so sure I was going to like his songwriting/singing. Turns out his album "Field Manual" is really good. I was reminded of this fact when "Two-Fifty" just popped up on my shuffle.

Two-Fifty - Chris Walla (FULL SONG)

Rock plus roll

Pretty good band practice tonight. The new songs we muddled through at our last show are starting to take shape. I'm sure they'll be radio hits any day now.

Welcome to Public School

On just her second day of preschool at our neighborhood elementary school, Paige came home with a flyer that said "Lice has been identified in our classroom." Sweet.

So far no creepy crawlers in Paige's hair. Say a li'l prayer for us.

Here's to You, David Bazan

Attending Traci's fourth and final birthday party of the year and writing record reviews before I go to bed is a bad combination. I dreamt last night that David Bazan was dating my sister Sarah and we were all staying at my parent's house for the weekend.

He was pleasant enough and even furrier than in real life. We had a pretty good talk about his new album (I, of course, told him it was too country). I also told him he couldn't swear in front of my parents. He obliged.

Review: David Bazan Curse Your Branches

David Bazan
Curse Your Branches

For years, David Bazan (formerly under the name Pedro the Lion) has been weaving stirring tales of man’s relationship with God. But these are no hallelujah Christian rock songs. The fictitious tales tend to revolve around fallibility of both parties and are filled with constant questioning and disappointment.

Topically, his first full-length solo release follows a similar pattern. There’s just one big difference. For the first time in his career, Bazan himself becomes the main character. “Curse Your Branches” chronicles, both painfully and beautifully, Bazan’s own questioning, doubts, and beliefs.

Lyrically, this is the best piece in Bazan’s stunning catalog. He sings of losing faith in front of his wife and daughter, his family fasting for his salvation, and drinking to stop thinking about all of it. The only drawback is the countrified arrangements take away from the amazing weight of the message. And with so many solo versions of these songs floating the internet, it’s hard not to yearn for the stripped down performances.

Nevertheless, a nearly perfect release from one of rock’s most engaging songwriters.

For fans of: Pedro the Lion, Death Cab for Cutie

Rating: 4 of 4

Curse Your Branches - David Bazan

Fall Showers

Today is a rainy day September day in Salt Lake City. But before fall, it was summer, and before that it was spring. I just found this self-portrait of 3/4ths of the fam from May, back when we were gearing up for all the excitement the sunny days would bring...

Music Roundup

As usual, lots of music writing going on in my world. I talked with Matt Pryor of The Get Up Kids about hating The Wiggles (him, not necessarily me), Taking Back Sunday about loving Transformers (the toy, not so much the movie) and Matt & Kim about Kim's problem of sweating on fans' t-shirts.

I've thrown in a handful of CD reviews as well. Enjoy.

Interviews

The Get Up Kids
Taking Back Sunday
Matt & Kim

Reviews

Owl City - Ocean Eyes*
Modest Mouse - No One's First, And You're Next
Ramona Falls - Intuit
American Steel - Dear Friends and Gentle Hearts*
RX Bandits - Mandala
Moby - Wait For Me*

*Manifesto Recommended

Traci's birthday week continues on...

The Competitve World of Pre-K Athletics

Paige and McKenzie listening intently to the half-time speech.

Paige had her first soccer game this morning. I don't think it was that big of deal for her, but for Traci and I, it was yet another anxiety-ridden momentous occasion.

For all of her incessant chatter around our house, Paige is incredibly shy around others. Luckily, she has really taken to the idea of "teacher" lately, which has made for good experiences in both preschool and primary. But she is still really timid around other kids. So something like soccer can go either way--a ton of fun for or an endless amount of tears. And that means a lot of stress for mom and dad.

Fortunately, I was able to get most of the worries out of my system on Wednesday when I took her to her first practice. To my delight, we got to the field and she ran right over to her team. She started stretching out with the others (that's the sign of a great coach, he has a bunch of 3-year-olds stretching out before practice) and didn't even look back at me.

She did really well through much of practice, save the few times where she and her buddy Mackenzie had to stop and throw grass or hold hands and skip. So I was expecting her to be a regular Christian Ronaldo at the game today.

Um, not so much. She seemed to be having fun, but every time the ball (or the swarm of kids around the ball) came her way, she headed the other direction. She was, however, very happy when her team scored a goal and just as happy when the other team scored.


Paige on a breakaway? No, she's running away from the other kids.

Her favorite parts of the game were when she got to sub out because she got to come sit next to me and pet the coach's wife's dog.

The coach is really good to include all of the kids and gave Paige a chance to kick off after a goal. She walked up the ball in super-slow motion, tapped it about one inch and then ran away.

But she had a great time, which is all that matters. (She wasn't nearly as good as the girl on the other team who was about a foot taller than everyone else and kept scoring all the goals. Clearly a ringer.)


Curtis trying to sneak onto the team.

Curtis loved it as well. When he wasn't running out on the field, he was stealing the corner-kick cones and using them as bullhorns.

Yay, sports.

Review: Matt & Kim at Club Sound

At the Johnny Tightlips show on Saturday night, friend Brian and I were talking about how much cleaner and generally less disgusting bars/clubs are now, thanks to the new no-smoking laws. I spoke too soon. Last night I found that Club Sound/In The Venue is just as sweaty and gross (and a bit smokey) as ever. Nevertheless, I had a great time at Matt & Kim.



Matt & Kim
Club Sound
09.07.09

So many choices on Monday night. Should I give into my late-90s nostalgia and head down to Orem for Blink-182? Or should get my boogie on to Matt & Kim in Salt Lake? Since I’d seen both bands before, and have been impressed by both, the tie breaker went to my dancing heart.

Though I’m sure that Blink was filled with plenty of spectacle, power chords, and pooh jokes, I have no regrets about choosing Matt & Kim. I'm guessing the 300 or so fans sweating to death in the unventilated Club Sound would agree.

The set was short and sweet, lasting just under an hour. Despite the brevity, the smiling duo managed to play the majority of its two-album catalog as well as throw in a fist-pumping rendition of the made-famous-by-hockey "Hey Song" and the greatest song ever written--that's right, "The Final Countdown."

With so many great songs, it's hard to pick favorites. However, both the rapid-fire instrumental "Cinders" (played in double time as a reward for "such a great crowd") and the heartfelt "Light Speed" were outstanding. "Daylight," the set's closer, was also welcomed with shrieks of delight.

Matt & Kim's second most endearing quality (right after their perma-grins) is their gratitude. No matter the size of the venue or the length of the set list, they play as if it was their most important gig and they thank the audience profusely for their support. The usually-silent Kim even took the mic to offer her sincere appreciation to the ever-growing Salt Lake City fan base.

In many ways, Kim managed to steal the show. In addition to her incessant drum pounding, she lent vocals to "Lessons Learned," threw in a few keyboard notes on "Turn This Boat Around," and showed off her Beyonce bootyshake during a couple of between-songs dance parties.

There was not a dull moment to be had and every face in the crowd left sweaty and almost as smiley as the band itself.

Options

Had to choose between Blink 182 and Matt & Kim tonight. Chose the latter. Club Sound is stickier than I remember.

3 Hours til Rock

Already a little nervous as usual. Traci is coming for the first time in years, which is cool. We're playing every song in the catalog tonight. Cross your fingers.

You Ain't Just a Whistlin' Dixie

Oh, Randy. Lainee's first boyfriend was sooo cool. Blond mullet. Maroon jeans. And a 1970's Chevy Monte Carlo.

To 8-year-old, brother-less me, having a dude hanging around the house was the best thing I could have ever imagined. Randy would wrestle with me and go to my baseball games. I loved it. And because Lainee was the first dater in the family, my parents were more than happy to let me tag along with them (Lainee was not so happy).

More than just the memories, Randy left behind The Bellamy Brothers. Every time we were in the Monte Carlo, Randy would blast his Bellamy Brothers Greatest Hits 8-track and sing along to "If I Said You Had a Beautiful Body (Would You Hold It Against Me?), "Redneck Girl," and "Old Hippie."

Listen to a bunch of tunes here.

To this day, that greatest hits album is the only country entry in my entire collection. So of course I jumped at the chance to interview Howard Bellamy for IN. (I'm sure my editor thought I was crazy when I volunteered to take it. )

He was a totally cool old dude. He talked about living on the same farm where he grew up and still having his 85-year-old mom still sign their performance contracts because it's always been "a family business."

Here's the article in its entirety. This one goes out to Randy.

Johnny Tightlips @ 5 Monkeys - Sept. 5

I hate writing song lyrics. But once again, we have a show coming up and a bunch of songs with no words. Rather than mumble incoherently through them all, I frantically tried to come up with something tonight. Surprise, surprise, there was a bit of success. Come hear for yourself:

Johnny Tightlips
w/ Josh & the Dream Killer, Michael Gross & the Statuettes
5 Monkeys (21+)
Saturday, Sept. 5
9 p.m.
$5

Don't worry, they'll still be a few mumblers. We don't want to get away from our signature sound.

A Playlist to Kick Off September (Corrected)

I haven't posted a mixtape in quite a while. This one features some bands I've interviewed lately--Taking Back Sunday, Matt & Kim, Bellamy Brothers, Get Up Kids--as well as some new albums I've been reviewing. Enjoy.

Click here for the full-song version of the playlist

Mixtape-09.01.09

My Mind Just Blew Up...

...and is strewn all across the computer screen. New season of The Hills? September 29. New season of The City? Also September 29. Sell my old clothes, I'm off to fake reality TV heaven.

Traci's Best Dance Crew

There are things that Traci watches on TV that annoy me (what's that TLC show called? Whoops, I Had a Baby But Didn't Know I Was Pregnant?). But every once in a while she has favorites that just catch me off guard. America's Best Dance Crew? Curious. I think it's because she's still got the hots for AC Slater.

Not so handy

So I was up at 2 am, awakened by the sound of a dripping toilet.

I am the Fluid Master

Sure, it took me two hours to what was likely a 10 minute job for a professional. But I got it done. The toilet is fixed. (Paige even took it for a test drive after I finished. Her reaction--"Wow, what an awesome potty." Hear that? Awesome.)

Handy Manny

I am about to attempt to fix the toilet. It will likely not end well.

Legend of the Fall

The sun is nearly down and my heart is sinking a bit as well. I'm not ready for summer to end.

The Traci Manifesto?!

For ages, Traci has talked about having her own blog. She's already set up a domain, but has yet to actually post anything, believing that no one would be interested in reading it.

I would dare say that the biggest reason folks even bother to read this blog is in hopes that I'll mention something about Traci and the kiddos. So if you're ready for a Traci Manifesto, send some love to the comments box.

Stripping Down with Matt (& Kim)

Much Manifesto real estate has been dedicated to Matt & Kim. (Here's a link to all the back stories). So of course I was very excited to do a phone interview with Matt yesterday to promote their upcoming SLC show on Sept. 7.

As expected, Matt was completely friendly and cool. I haven't written the story up yet, but if you have a spare 18 minutes, you can listen to the entire interview here.

We chat about Bacardi commercials, anxiety attacks, and of course their naked romp through Times Square.

Matt & Kim interview was an hour and a half late, but worth the wait for sure.

Rock 'n Roll Updates

With all the producing hit singles about America's hat lately, I haven't had a chance to write about my recent celebrity interviews. I checked two more favorite bands off the list--Bad Religion and Bouncing Souls (details to follow)--and I'll be talking to Matt of Matt & Kim fame tomorrow. I should be able to get a David Bazan interview in November and then, if I can track down Millencolin somehow, I will have accomplished all of my journalistic dreams. Not bad for two years of writing for a little local paper.

I've got it all wrong

I've been writing to the wrong niche all along. Writing about my life, my kids, my love of beepy-boopy music is all wrong. I need to focus purely on hip hop.

My rage-inducing Eminem review has now topped 2,500 views. My blog post about Snoop Dogg had 200 views last week and my Vanilla Ice article consistently gets more hits than anything else on the Manifesto (save the Shauna Thomas story I wrote in 2006--still a search favorite).

So from here on out, the Manifesto is all hip hop, all the time.

Sutherland out.

Stupid Canada. I Hate You.

My long-time homie Rhett flew in from The OC and spent a few days with us. Other than a trip to a stirring nil-nil Real Salt Lake match and the injury-filled lunch at the Chuck, we spent all of our time writing and recording music. (Oh wait, we also watched a million episodes of Project Runway with Traci.)

I knew we would be recording a couple of Rhett's rock tunes and he said he was bringing some acoustic material as well. I was a bit surprised, though, by what came out of the guitar. Rather than a heartfelt ballad to his fiancee, we got this tribute to America Junior. (Rhett and I have opposing thoughts about our neighbors to the north.)

Beware: this will be stuck in your head for days.

Rhett McCaughey--Ahh Canada [MP3]

This was the only completed product, but we got down the skeletons of two more killer tracks. Keep your fingers crossed.

Chuck-Related Injury

I've been to Chuck-a-Rama twice in the past week. (I know. The best week ever.) But yesterday's visit wasn't awesome. Don't get me wrong, the food was great. But the second I walked in the door, I thumped my knee on a big wooden chair. I think it really affected my buffet-ing abilities and I'm still sore today. Oh Chuck, what have you done to me?

Oh, Paige Will Love This

Streetlight Manifesto just released this video for "Would You Be Impressed?" (The song's like two years old, but whatever.) From the very first second I knew this would be a Paige favorite. But with the murdering and all, I may have to keep this one to myself.

The Injured Reserve List

Traci's had a few injuries over the years. I remember the blackened fingernail that came from shutting her hand in the car door. There was the wounded tailbone from when she slipped on the stairs when she was pregnant with Curtis. But the current sore neck came from something completely surprising to me--gymnastics?!

We were jumping on a trampoline with our kids in St. George when Traci made an amazing announcement. She was going to do a flip. I've known Traci for a long time and she's never made mention of trampoline flips--and I even had a tramp in high school. I was even more shocked when she actually did it!

She landed on her back and now has a sore neck. I'm guessing the flips will go back into hiding. Bummer.

Redbox Reviews

I'd say Traci and I watch maybe one DVD a month. We make it to the movie theater about once a year. We nearly went into movie overload in Utah's Dixie.

Taken - I really liked it. Traci was thoroughly disturbed and hasn't stopped thinking about the teenage prostitution industry ever since. We both agreed that it was okay for the friend to die, because it was her fault for trusting a Frenchman in the first place.

Confessions of a Shopaholic - Don't get Traci started on the inconsistencies between the book and the movie. (She still enjoyed it.) I loved the cameo appearances by Detroit Pistons Bad Boy John Salley. I went out and bought myself a green scarf immediately after.

Knowing - Traci HATES Nicolas Cage. I only rented this one because I thought Traci's dad would like it. (It turns out he'd already seen it.) I knew I had made a bad choice when I was waiting for the DVD to vend and the couple behind me said sarcastically, "We could always get 'Knowing.'" I turned and asked if it was that bad. "We haven't seen it, but our friends said it was the worst movie they've ever seen. But you may like it." Turns out they had pretty smart friends.

I am Andre Agassi

The Pearson St. George adventure is all sports, all the time. Get up in the morning, play tennis. Then go swimming. Get showered up and then go golfing at 2 p.m. If all goes well, there's room for more tennis around 9 p.m.

Surprise, surprise, I'm very little sports, the majority of the time. But I made it a goal to get my tennis skillz together for this year's trip. So I talked my insurance buddies into helping me get into game shape. I practiced three or four times in anticipation.

All the practice paid off, as I had some serious game on the first night of St. George tennis. (I think the bats flying overhead really inspired me.) I held my own on day two as. By day three, unfortunately, all of my beginner's luck had worn off.

But it was a good start. Pearsons beware. Next year I will destroy you.

Carpet Swimming

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In the end, Curtis wasn't really a big fan of the swimming pool. He normally loves the water, but all of our trips to the pool just kept getting in the way of nap time. He did, however, love scooting around the bedroom in Paige's Winnie the Pooh float.

Vacation Thoughts: No Motivation

I always have all sorts of plans to accomplish amazing things on vacation--i.e. writing/recording a new song in the 45 minutes while I'm in the condo alone will Curtis sleeps. As usual, it didn't work out. I did, however, get some reading in and a bunch of movie watching (details).

I read Eminem's autobiography, "The Way I Am," from start to finish yesterday. My review is short. Meh. It was generally unenlightening, with very little ground covered that hasn't shown up on the lyric sheets or depicted on "8 Mile." No insight on family drama, not even any details about the writing or recording process. (It was kinda "Dre and I started recording. We thought we had a hit, and it turns out we did. The end.")

So, if this is the next book in your Salt Lake County Library queue, go ahead and cancel the hold and check "Bring It On Part Deux" or something instead.

Moon Phases

This is now the fourth year of St. George trips for Paige. It's been her best yet. She can't get enough of the pool, and when she's not in the water, she's planted firmly in front of the DVD player. What could be better?



Curtis, however, is in the I-want-to-touch-and-then-destroy-everything-in-my-path phase and is driving us a bit crazy. We got to hang out a 1 a.m., 6 a.m. and then 6:30 a.m. this morning. He liked our time together much more than I did.

Missing Britton Johnsen?

Wondering where University of Utah and MHS basketball star is these days? The Las Palmas resort in St. George. Apparently, he's playing basketball in Greece and still trying to get back into the NBA. I didn't see him on the basketball court, but if his sweet moves from the diving board are any indication, he's still got some serious game.

I didn't talk to him myself. I figured he'd recognize from somewhere, but I'm sure he wouldn't remember my name. Traci said, "Why didn't you say 'Hi, Britton, remember when you used to cheat off me in geometry?'" I should have. I'm pretty sure I'm the only reason that Britton and big brother Jeff passed that class. And what do I get for it? Nuthin. But in the end, it's all the same--we're all on vacation in St. George in August.

Vacation Thoughts: Day I

Today we head off for our annual Pearson family vacation to sunny St. George. (yes, right smack in the middle of the summer heat. That's what we do.) We just finished packing the car and I suddenly have a new understanding for my father, who was already irritated and angry by the start of every single vacation.

The time between waking up and actually get on the road is the worst, especially when your entire house has to come along. All the planning goes right out the window, everything that was ready now isn't, and everyone is nice and upset with each other.

St. George, here we come!

Sweet Dreams

We survived our first overnight trip to Grandpa's ranch since the advent of Curtis. We generally just make a day trip out of it, as to avoid all the extra packing and worry that comes with sleeping in a foreign locale. But we figured it was time to give it a go.

Paige had a great time looking at the stars and running around with glow sticks and her cousins. So hooray for nighttime.

The kids slept fine, which was a blessing. Traci and I, not so much, thanks to Curtis's incessant rustling in his Pack 'n Play. I knew sleep was entirely out of the question at about 4 a.m., when I could hear a rodent scratching at the baseboards beneath my bed. Knowing that I'm an open-mouth sleeper, the visions of a mouse crawling into my mouth repelled all visions of sleep.

Fortunately, come sunrise, my mouth was still mouse-free. Phew.

Concerned About the Decline of Western Civilization?

Curtis clearly is. Just look at that face.