(South)West Side is the Best Side

I took my kids to Fizz Fest [I don't know why it was called this, as there was no fizz and little fest] at Daybreak today [the Stepford Wives community on Kennecott's "reclaimed" land, in the SW corner of SLC] so we could see my old boss Joy's [who is a man] band play.

I think Traci would like to move to Daybreak, if it were located in Murray. I must admit, I do like a lot of the houses and all of the parks and stuff.

But I couldn't live there. Why? Because everyone looks like me. The quote-unquote Fest was filled with tons of balding, pasty-skinned guys in their plaid cargo shorts. All of 'em were with their mega-pregnant wives and their gaggle of kids and having just as much fun as me.

Nope. Daybreak doesn't need another me.

P.S.

I had this conversation with Paige.

[After meeting Joy] "Dad, your friend has dark skin."

"That's right, he does."

"Why?"

Sujfan, Katy Perry & Yo Gabba

Here's this week's music. Click the linky-links for the full review.

Sufjan Stevens - All Delighted People EP I generally find myself wanting to punch Sufjan Stevens in his pretty indie face, but I still love the tunes. Even better, this one is void of all of the cheesy horn lines that drove me crazy on Illinoise.

Katy Perry - Teenage Dream, Katy Perry "Hot N Cold" was Paige's favorite song for a long time, so I figured I'd pick up Katy Perry's new record. Bor-ing. I've learned a lesson. Never trust a four-year-old's music taste. (Who am I kidding, Paige has pretty good taste.)

Yo Gabba Gabba! - Music is ... Awesome! Vol.2 "All My Friends are Insects" by Weezer is sooo good. Hopefully, this will keep Dora the Explorer and those blasted They Might Be Giants CDs out of the minivan for a little while.

He Who Laughs Last

I was just teasing Curtis, but he got the last laugh.

CURTIS: Look at my orange monster truck, Dad.

ME: It's not orange, it's purple.

CURTIS: Yes it is orange...dingus.

Scratch Bob Itch Pants

Can't stop scratching since the lunch time conversation about bed bugs. It's the Paige and the lice scare all over again.

I spent the afternoon lotioning and re-lotioning to get the feeling of the creepy crawlers off my skin. Then I visited Bed Bug Registry (a real thing) to see if my coworkers would be bringing back any little buddies from their conference in DC.

Still Missing the Hills

I didn't realize how much I was missing The Hills until recently. I was watching a rerun of The Office where Kelly Kapoor was asked who should be branch manager. She offered up this gem:

"I love rivalries. Michael or Jim. Paris or Nicole. Heidi or LC. It's so much fun. But, I guess if I'm really thinking about it and answering your question honestly, I'd have to go with LC. Heidi's a bad friend. And her skin, is terrible."

The Only Reason I Go to Church Anymore...

...Is to check out the artwork on the sacrament programs, provided by the Primary kids. This one's my favorite. In this depiction, Goliath is not only a frightening giant, wreaking havoc on the Israelites, but also a monster in the paint. Shaq Fu ain't got nuthin' on Goliath--or The Big Phil, as his teammates call him.

Back to School Blues

Paige went back to preschool today. This year she moved from two days a week to four, which seems like a pretty big jump. All summer, she's been talking about how excited she is to go back to school but when the moment arrived, it was a different story.

She was a little weepy when she woke up, not wanting to go to school everyday or meet new kids. (Who could blame her?) But when I picked her up this afternoon, she was in very good spirits.

"Dad, I have a new best friend. Shaylee is in my same group and her favorite color is yellow, just like mine. We're twins!" First day and already a best friend? You can't beat that.

And it gets better. You can imagine how our little #1-Chipmunks-Superfan daughter's eyes lit up when Traci told her there was a boy in her class named Alvin. See, new kids are great.

Song of the Day: Gaslight Anthem, American Slang

Mix Social Distortion with Bruce Springsteen and you've got yourself a pretty great tune by Gaslight Anthem.

This Week's Reviews: Arcade Fire, Wavves, Matt Skiba

Feel free to check out this week's reviews for IN.



Arcade Fire - The Suburbs. Better than Neon Bible, not quite as good as Funeral. Still gave it 4 of 4 stars.

Wavves - King of the Beach. Trashy garage punk meets psychedelia. I enjoyed the first half of the equation.

Matt Skiba - Demos. Only interesting for heavy duty Alkaline Trio fans, and still not that interesting.

Cowboys and Emus

I relayed the following story to my Native American friend Steve.

Me: We're going to the park.
Paige: Which park?
Me: Murray Park.
Paige: What's Murray Park?
Me: It's the one with the big Indian statue.
Paige: What's an Indian? Is that like an emu?

Steve agreed to come to a Family Home Evening to explain the difference between America's indigenous peoples and Australia's largest native bird.

Self Realization

There is sometimes a brief weird moment after you drop your kids off and you get back in the car. The radio comes back on and you're absent-mindedly bopping along when you realize you're still listening to Dora the Explorer. No kids, just kids music. In that moment it becomes very clear that you're 30 years old and driving a minivan.

The Drag of the Great Outdoors

I have all these not-from-Utah coworkers. They're always talking about all of the wonderful things they've done in the Beehive State--hiking this, skiing that, natural beauty-ing whatever. It's enough to make a native feel guilty that all he ever does is awkwardly stand in the midst of teens at Kilby Court.

So this summer I've made it a goal to face my archenemy--nature. Luckily I've got mega-outdoorsman sister to lead the way.

Thus far, in addition to hitting each of our ranch weekends, Aunt Sarah has taken us on two hiking trips. The first one, to Donut Falls (which, thanks to a recent rock slide, no longer looks like a donut), went pretty smoothly.

I somehow convinced Curtis to ride in the backpack and even with a chubby, 30-pound rock on my back, the trail was pretty easy. Paige was ecstatic because she saw a chipmunk (of course it was Alvin) and Curtis was more than pleased to be able to throw rocks in the river. We couldn't have asked for a better night.

It went so well that we figured we'd try it again. The next adventure was to Cecret Lake at Alta. And it was a bit too much for us.

We got a late start, so by the time we got there Sarah said there was no time to waste. Paige didn't get the memo.

Enamored with maps (I curse that blasted Dora), Paige dawdled as she tried to lead the way with the parking map we'd been handed by the ranger. Curtis was again in the backpack, but the terrain was a bit steeper. It was steep enough, in fact, that by the time we made it to the misspelled lake, I was 90 percent sure I was going to have a heart attack.



Cecret Lake

We kept Paige motivated throughout the last stretch with promises of a Capri Sun upon reach of the magical destination, only to find that I had left them on the kitchen counter. Her only solace came from me allowing her to eat about a half dozen bags of fruit snacks as apology.

By the time we made it back down, Paige was in tears, Curtis was in my arms, and Traci was giving me the look that said that we're done with nature for the rest of year.

Song of the Day: The Ramones Bonzo Goes to Bitburg

The best song ever written about Ronald Reagan also happens to be the best song The Ramones ever wrote. (If it sounds familiar, you probably heard it in "School of Rock.")

Whether or not you're a fan of The Ramones, or even punk rock, you should definitley check the documentary "The End of the Century: The Story of the Ramones" from your local Salt Lake County library. It's a heart breaking story of a band who influenced everybody but just couldn't catch a break themselves.

Saturday Cleaning

We have our work cut out for us.

Song of the Day: B.o.B. feat Rivers Cuomo, Magic

I'm really enjoying B.o.B.'s "Adventures of Bobby Ray." The fact that Weezer's River Cuomo donates the chorus to this track is just an added bonus. (Paramore's Hayley Williams is the real star of the album. How can you not love her vocal on "Airplanes?")




For a live version, with Rivers flexing his emcee skillz, click here.

Traci Has Officially Jumped Ship

It's been ages since Traci last wrote for the Manifesto. I finally found out why. Apparently, she's been saving up all of her creative power for the new Murray Library blog.

Check out her review of "29" by Adena Halpern here.

Song of the Day: K'Naan Wavin' Flag

I'm pretty sure that things are busier for me at work now than they've ever been. As a result, that the last thing I want to do when I come home is more writing. So I'll put my brain on autopilot for a bit and post some songs that I've been loving lately.



I was watching a re-run of K'Naan's so-good performance on Austin City Limits the other night and it reminded me just how good this song is. (And it's even better a capella.)

The song is perfect on its own, but it's made even better from me thanks to the memories it brings back of teaching Africans in The Hague and Antwerp. I became friends with a couple of great dudes that would always invite me to sing African spirituals with them. I was always touched by the simplicity of the songs and the sincerity of the delivery. All of that's here in "Waving Flag."

If you're up for it, I'd highly recommend checking out K'Naan's full ACL set:

Watch the full episode. See more Austin City Limits.

Music, Lately

I've been on a real tweener hip hop kick lately, hence the following reviews.

Travie McCoy - Lazarus. If you like Gym Class Heroes and their emo-meets-hip hop vibe, you won't be disappointed.

Taio Cruz - Rokkstar. I'm a sucker for ultra-hooky pop songs. I was surprised by how much I like this formulaic, R&B-lite record.

Big Boi -Sir Lucious Left Foot...The Son of Chico Dusty. Not as good as an Outkast record, but still better than the majority of today's hip hop.

Gaslight Anthem - American Slang. It's punk rock with a Bruce Springsteen twist. Highly recommended.

Hot Hot Heat - Future Breeds. I love Hot Hot Heat, but hate this record.

B.o.B. - The Adventures of Bobby. A great blend of rap and indie rock hooks. Plus Rivers Cuomo donates

But Football in the Groin Had a Football in the Groin

At age four, Paige has already discovered the key to comedic gold. All thanks to her new favorite show--America's Funniest Videos, or America's Uh-larious Videos as she calls it.

Paige: Dad, let's play America's Uh-larious Videos.

Me: Okay, how do we do that?

Paige: You hit me in the bumper with this soccer ball and I'll fall down.

Gold, I tell ya. Gold.

Dress Ups

Again, way too much Chipmunks at our house lately. Now, Paige wants to play "Squeakquel" all the time. That means we pretend to be characters from the show. Paige is always Jeanette (or Jernette, as she pronounces it) and I am Simon. We each wear our sunglasses to make us look more like the four-eyed poindexters. (What kind of kid chooses to be the nerd?)

Sometimes we're allowed to change it up. The picture above was when Paige was Alvin, hence the red shirt and the sideways hat.The other day, Traci was instructed to be Britney. But Traci's brown shirt just wasn't going to cut it. Paige made it very clear that she better put on a pink shirt.

While Traci was changing, Paige came back in the room and made an announcement.

Paige: Mom, I put your shirt away.

Traci: Where'd you put it?

Paige: In the boring pile.

Salt Lake City Law Breakers Beware!

Traci is at jury duty right now and she's tough on crime.

The Return of My Nemesis

He's back. That sneaky snake that nearly ate me whole last fall. I was enjoying a rigorous regiment of "Ready, Set, Go" (otherwise known as a race) with Curtis, when I nearly tripped over the monster.

I let out quite a shriek--er, manly exclamation--when I saw him. "Ah! A snake!"

Paige didn't want anything to do with it, but Curtis couldn't have been more curious. And he was, of course, the manliest man in the group. Which was a good thing.

That snake was no match for Curtis' dog-pitched squeal of delight and quickly slithered away in fear. Hmmph. Reptiles.

Unleashing the Awesome Power

This morning, my work homie Rachel was eating this for breakfast:



"Pudding?" I asked. (I don't discriminate. I'll eat pudding for breakfast.)

No, some sort of hippie concoction made of carrots and walnuts and bark or something.

"It's got your whole day's fruit and vegetables in just one cup. Try some."

Dare I?



(You'll notice from the background of the picture that I've clearly turned my cubicle into a you-bicle.)

It was okay, as far as breakfast sludge goes.

It made me think of that Simpsons where Homer was eating all that Power Sauce so he could climb the Murderhorn.

HOMER: I only eat food in bar form. When you concentrate food, you unleash its awesome power, I'm told. That's why I'm compressing five pounds of spaghetti into one handy mouth-sized bar.

Open Containers

Last night, Paige and I were playing "tea set." When it was time to get in the car to go to Lowe's to do--you know--man stuff, Paige said, "I'll bring the pot and the cup in the car, so when you get thirsty you can drink while you drive."

Yes, officer. I was drinking and driving. But I was thirsty. My daughter said it was okay.

Brother, Can You Spare Some Music Reviews?

Silversun Pickups

In addition to talking to The Wiggles, and then watching the Wiggles, I have actually listened to some grown up music. Here's the latest.

Interviews

Tokyo Police Club - I don't hate all Canadians. I wasn't even bugged when guitarist Josh Hook kept saying "oot" and "aboot."

Face to Face - Singer Trever Keith never bothered to call me back, so instead of an interview, I wrote this little history piece on the band. (I'm crossing my fingers that the reunion album, out this September, is a return to form.)

Shows

Silversun Pickups. It was long and loud (and I'm clearly too old) and impressive.

Albums

Deftones - Diamond Eyes. If you're a fan of the heavier stuff, I'd highly recommend this one. (I've already confessed my love for it here.)

Tokyo Police Club - Champ. Meh. I like TPC, but this one was a little bland.

Sage Francis - Li(f)e. As a whole, not a great record. However, there is some spoken-word-indie rap awesomeness, namely "The Best of Times." Check the vid here.

The Wiggly Circus

Paige may not have been too impressed by my interview with Anthony Wiggle, but she was very excited that I scored us tickets to see the show. (I know this because she keep saying "Dad, I'm very excited for the Wiggles concert.)

When we made it to the venue, my only worry was that the Aussies may not live up to the four-the-year old's ultra-high expectations. No problem, there. Paige loved every minute, singing and doing her Elaine Benes-esque dancing to every song.

Curtis, however, was a different story. I'm used to taking him into the foyer at church when he's being bad, or taking him home from the 4th of July fireworks because "fireworks are skeery, Dad." But taking him out to the concourse because the Wiggles, who he loves to watch on TV, were too scary, caught me off guard. And that was before the band even came on stage.

Once the show actually started, we finally got him settled down and he sat tight-gripped on my lap. After every song he'd say, "Is the Wiggles all over, Dad?" (He did manage a smile and a wave when he saw Dorothy the Dinosaur.)

On the way home, Paige, who was still beaming with enthusiasm, asked, "Do the Wiggles know my name?"

(This was tricky territory. I felt like she was asking me if Santa Claus was real. But luckily I had the answer.)

"Of course they do. Don't you remember that I talked to Anthony on the phone about you?"

"Yeah."

(I've impressed her now, I thought. Finally.)

"But what about Murray?"

(Blast.)

"Hey, how 'bout we go get a Slurpee."

(Sweet distraction.)

A very successful evening.

---
And here's the show review.

The Wiggles
August 3, 2010
The Maverik Center

As the lights came up at the conclusion of the 90-minute “Wiggly Circus,” my four-year-old daughter turned to me, with her upper lip trembling, and said, “Is it all over?”

“Yes, it’s all over.”

“Why? Why is it over?”

“Because The Wiggles played all of their songs.”

“But I want them to play a thousand songs!”

Those four Aussies, and their team of dancers and characters, certainly know how to the leave the Pre-Kindergarten crowd wanting more.

This was my first “kid” concert. Going in with no more expectation than that of cotton candy, sticky kid fingers, and overpriced merchandise, I left feeling quite pleasantly surprised.

First of all, parking was a breeze, given that everyone in the crowd had carpooled in their mother’s minivan (though it was a real struggle to find our minivan after the show, amongst all the look-a-likes). Secondly, the show was over by 8:30, so I still had time to buy a hotdog at the 7-11 on the way home before putting the kids to bed.

And, as an added bonus, the show was pretty good, too. Of course the kids were happy to dance to “Hoop Dee Doo” and “Rock a Bye Your Bear,” but as an adult, I was happy with The Wiggles handled themselves on stage.

These guys do a ridiculous amount of touring—something like 200 international dates a year. But rather than putting on a well-oiled, auto-piloted performance, the group is refreshingly loose. They easily laughed off the technical problems that plagued the first third of the set. (When Captain Feathersword’s mic went dead, Blue Wiggle Anthony Field quickly put his hand over his mouth and spoke in his Captain Feathersword voice and the Wiggly Pirate lip-synched the words. Both actors got a good laugh from the improv act.) They graciously interacted with the crowd, personally thanking each child who had brought a homemade poster, and genuinely seemed to enjoy themselves throughout the set.

They were also good with the parents, regularly throwing appreciation and jokes their way. “We drove all the way here from Los Angeles in our Big Red Car [their little golf cart]. We sang ‘Toot, Toot, Chugga, Chugga, Big Red Car’ the whole way—something like 3,000 times. I’m sure some of you parents can understand what that feels like.”

The Wiggles kept the energy high throughout the set with plenty of singing, dancing, and circus fare. The band, whose ages range from early 30s [Sam Moran] to nearly 60 [Jeff Fatt], swung and rolled, flipped and flopped, without missing a beat or losing their breath. (I got a little tired just watching ‘em.)

The kids left happy, I left happy. And though I do regret not buying myself a t-shirt that says “I’m the Fifth Wiggle,” I couldn’t have asked for a better night.

Talking to TV on the Phone (or My Chat with Anthony Wiggle)

For years, I've been blogging about how television is Paige's true parent. All the way back in 2007 (she would have been about 18 months old), I wrote this about Paige's first encounter with her beloved Wiggles:

Months ago, Paige mastered waving goodbye. The wave is now accompanied by her only recognizable word, “da-die.” (It’s not bye-bye, exactly, but we were still pretty excited about it.) Paige only waves when she thinks someone is leaving – or when she thinks someone should be leaving – but she never waves hello. Well, she never waved hello. About a week ago Traci let her watch The Wiggles for the first time. She was hooked instantly. By day two she was waving to The Wiggles the second they came on the TV – with both hands. Did this translate into her waving to real human beings? No. She only waves to The Wiggles. The other night we were at my sister’s house. Surrounded by millions of toys, Paige spent the whole time clipping and unclipping a booster chair safety belt. Nothing could distract her from this task. She would stop periodically, however, to wave at The Wiggles on the TV.

Though that annoying Dora the Explorer stole the spotlight for a little while, The Wiggles have always held the key to little Paigey's heart.

A few months back, I was looking over the list of upcoming shows in Salt Lake to put together a list of bands I'd like to interview. Amongst Ben Folds, Teenage Bottlerocket, and Tokyo Police Club, there was one show that really caught my eye--The Wiggles at the E Center.

I wasted no time. I immediately emailed their Australian press contact and requested an interview. I figured if I could talk to one of the Wiggles, Paige would think I was the coolest dad ever.

A week or so later, their US rep called me back and gave me my choice of having a few minutes on the phone with either Jeff or Anthony. (Well, Anthony, of course.)

I was just as nervous for the call as when I talked to Weezer or Death Cab for Cutie. (But not as nervous when I talked to Vanilla Ice.)

The Blue Wiggle was just as friendly as I thought he'd be (though there was a little piece of me that wanted him to be a monster--wouldn't that make for some good blog fodder?) and we had a nice little chat.

I record all of my interviews and couldn't wait to get home and play it for Paige.

"Paige, guess who I talked to on the phone today--Anthony Wiggle?"

"What?" she giggled in surprise.

"Yeah, Anthony. Do you want to hear it?"

"Sure."

We went over to the computer and turned on the MP3.

She was impressed for about 15 seconds.

I'll take what I can get.

[Maybe I can impress you, loyal reader, with my interview skillz. Read it here.]

We're Clealy Watching Too Much Alvin & The Chipmunks

Last night Paige says, "Let's play Simon Says. I'll be Simon."

Curtis chirps back, "I'll be Theodore."

Ode to Creed (the creepy guy on The Office, not the crappy band)

Sometimes a guy's gotta ride ride the Bull, am I right?

Watching a re-run of "Conflict Resolution." This is, of course, the best part:

Michael Scott:	Okay, Ryan, you told Toby that Creed has a distinct old man smell.
Creed:	I know exactly what he's talking about. I sprout mung beans on a damp paper towel in my desk drawer. Very nutritious, but they smell like death.

Hello, Severed Head

It's not at all frightening to turn on the light and walk into your inlaws bathroom and see a head and some sort of clamp staring back by you.

Little Geniuses

Egghead.


Buckethead.

Our little reading and spelling wiz, Paige, has recently decided to turn her attention to mathematics.

Tonight in the car she said, "Dad, can you asks me some maths?"

"Sure. What's one plus four?"

Curtis, never one to be left out of the loop, starts spouting out random numbers and then says "Dad, it's my turn."

"Okay Curtis, what's one plus two?"

"Kickball."

There you have it.

O (Nu Metal) Pioneers

It's nearly midnight on Pioneer Day Eve. Seems like a perfect time to recommend some Deftones.

Here are a couple of impressive tracks from their new record, "Diamond Eyes." (Feel free to check out my review here.)

Diamond Eyes. (How can you not love that awesome part in the chorus where it goes all low and de-tuned.)



Rocket Skates. Pure metal mayhem. (Warning: skews a bit mature.)

Punk Rock Dad?

Sometimes kids put a real cramp in your county library swagger.

The Ever Prudent Four-Year-Old

I couldn't have been more excited about the new (used) guitar that arrived in the mail today. Until I talked to Captain Bringdown Paige, that is.

At first, she was very supportive. ("Wow, that's a nice guitar, Dad. Dad, that sure is a cooooool guitar, Dad.")

But then her fiscal responsibility kicked in.

"Why did you buy that new guitar, Dad?"

"Uh, I needed a new guitar, I guess."

"You already have two guitars. Did they break and that's why you need a new guitar?"

"Well, uh, er. What's that up there? The Goodyear Blimp?!" [Followed by the sound of me sneaking out the window, peeling out of the garage, and hopping a plane to lack-of-accountabilityville.]

Teenage Bottlerocket, Streetlight, and a Bunch of CDs

Kids aren't stinkier these days. I think it's just that teenager odors are less appealing to me as I grow older. Go figure.

I made it to two sweaty concerts in two sweaty SLC weeks, dragging my friend Kaleb to Streetlight Manifesto and Brett to Teenage Bottlerocket. Both were good, but seeing TBR for the first time was especially fun (though I can't underestimate the coolness of hearing Tomas Kalnoky sing "Dear Sergio" for the first time, more than a decade after I first met the song).

I've been writing about Streetlight for years, but if you like Ramones-esque pop punk, you better check out TBR.

Here are my reviews from the shows:

Teenage Bottlerocket
(And here's an interview with TBR)
Streetlight Manifesto

And here's some CD reviews for you:

Eminem - Recovery
LCD Soundsystem - This is Happening
Hole - Nobody's Daughter
Tony Sly - 12 Song Program
Band of Horses - Infinite Arms
Stone Temple Pilots - Stone Temple Pilots
Crime in Stereo - I was Trying to Describe You to Someone
Titus Andronicus - The Monitor
David Bazan - Live at Electrical Audio
Minus the Bear - Omni
The Hold Steady - Heaven is Whenever

A Legitimate Journalist? Who, Me?

Luckily, I'm one of those vain, techie nerds who has a Google alert set up for my own name. Otherwise, I probably wouldn't have seen that I accidentally wrote an article for the Salt Lake Tribune.

My friend Chris recently finished writing his first graphic novel. (Something I am very, very jealous of.) So I interviewed him about it for IN. The next thing I knew, the Trib, who owns IN, picked it up.

I was pretty excited to see it online and quickly looked to see if it was in print as well. (Now that I'm a big-deal PR guy, I actually have a subscription to the paper. Blecch.) I couldn't find it, so I'm guessing it was just internet filler.

Nevertheless, I was pretty excited to get my first major newspaper byline and I'm happy that Chris is getting a little extra coverage about his quite-excellent novel Pocket Hole.

Check out the Pocket Hole blog here.

Paige On Religion

Paige: I'd rather be watching YouTube

I think I've already written about how Paige despises Family Home Evening. Here are a few more religious gems she's thrown out there lately:

"I'm scared of ghosts. Even Holy Ghosts."

"Jesus is not allowed!"

"Don't let Heavenly Father take my stuff."

And today, I asked her what she learned about in primary.

"I don't remember."

Did you have a lesson about Jesus? About sharing? About Joseph Smith?

"It was as about leprosy."

Dirt & Water

It's amazing--with all the of the electronics and treats and distractions necessary for us to complete an hour-and-a-half drive without the kids killing each other or driving us crazy--how a pile of dirt, some rocks, and water to throw them in, can keep kids entertained.

God & Dutch Soccer

Former Dutch Missionaries Unite!

We all know that The Big Guy Upstairs didn't bless any of us with a lot of baptisms over there in the Lowlands. But I'm sure he didn't ignore all those prayers. The way I see it, he was just saving 'em up for us and planning to let us cash them out this Sunday at kick off time.

Nou jongens, laten wij bidden.

Joseph Smith, The Sphinx

Years after first hearing about it, I finally made it the very strange Gilgal Gardens in Salt Lake. Traci and I spent a warm, 8th anniversary evening wandering through therandom religious imagery and rocks carved with Bible quotes and LDS hymns.

I still need to finish the virtual tour, so I can figure out what I was actually seeing but I'd definitely recommend checking it out.

(No Interview With) Streetlight Manifesto

A couple of years ago, I had a chance to do an interview with one of my fav bands, Streetlight Manifesto. It was one of the most enjoyable interviews I've ever done and, as such, I was going to write a detailed blog about it. But with details, comes my desire to avoid them. The band rarely does interviews, which made the experience even more memorable for me.

They're playing here again tomorrow night and their publicist reached out to me about covering the show. I was stoked about the opportunity to interview with them again, but alas, I was told they're not doing interviews. (Instead I'll be reviewing the concert.)

I decided to write a show preview anyway. Here's a little trip down one of my many musical memory lanes.

(Forever indebted to Ty's A&R work in discovering Catch 22.)

Streetlight Manifesto - Everything Went Numb (YouTube)

--

Streetlight Manifesto

July 7, 2010

In The Venue

Everyone has at least one "record that changed my life." I've certainly got a bunch of 'em but there's only one that almost changed my life.

I was 18 when I first heard Catch 22's "Keasbey Nights." From the opening notes of "Dear Sergio," I was hooked -- the rapid-fire vocals, the tight horn section, and the bulletproof vest-related singalongs were perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Promptly after releasing the record, singer/guitarist/songwriter Tomas Kalnoky decided to leave the band. Catch 22 soldiered on without him and, before heading out on their first national tour, they posted a message on their website that they were looking for a new singer, guitarist, and trombone player. (Had I been better at any of those positions, I definitely would have applied.)

By the time the Catch 22 made it to their Salt Lake City show in the basement of the now-defunct Club DV8, the band had filled all of its empty slots. After they burned through their set, I stole a chance to grab an interview with the band (my very first interview) for the Utah State University school paper.

I asked them something along the lines of "So you've got a bunch of new guys in the band now, eh?"

"Yeah, but we're still looking for someone to drive the van. You got a license?"

I did have a license. And summer was right around the corner, so I wouldn't miss a lot of school. And maybe if the guitar player got sick I could fill in, and maybe if the singer ... and ... and ... and...

I was still thinking of my reply long after the van took off without me. And I kept thinking about it for the next two years. Every time I was questioning my life path, I'd ask myself, "Why am I doing this? I could be a greasy roadie right now."

Though their follow up to "Keasbey" was OK, Catch 22 just wasn't the same without Kalnoky. By their third record, I had lost faith in the band.

And then it happened. After years of silence, Kalnoky re-emerged with Bandits of the Acoustic Revolution and then Streetlight Manifesto. The records picked up right where "Keasbey" left off. I couldn't have been happier.

But then I was.

In 2008, I had the chance to spend a half hour or so on the phone with Kalnoky. We chatted about the rift with Catch 22 (now mended), his aversion to doing interviews (preferring to let the music speak for itself), and the band's upcoming plans (a goal to release eight albums of cover songs between Streetlight and the Acoustic Bandits).

As an added bonus, I was invited to hang out with the band in the tour bus before their show at the Avalon. The guys couldn't have been more friendly. But as I was taking in the moment, I couldn't help but glance at the driver's seat a time or two. I had just one thought.

I could be driving this bus.

The Orange Crush

Great voetballers, horrible singers. Hup, Holland, Hup!

I don't know why I keep trying. I DVR the Holland games and then act like I'm going to be able to go all day without hearing about the result. It's never worked.

It didn't work the first game of the Cup, when I walked over to my friend Brian and he greeted me with, "Hey, how 'bout that Nederland victory."

It didn't work against Brazil when every one of my friends texted me congratulations.

It didn't work today when I avoided all human contact, internet surfing, and text message receiving. I made it all the way to 4:30 when my very sports-averse cubicle neighbor leaned over to me and said, "Hey, are you excited that your team won?"

Well, I am now.

--

I have been hesitant to call this "Holland's year," for fear of getting my feelings hurt. But we're now just one game away. One 90-minute match.

And no one's going to spoil the ending for me. Sunday afternoon, I'll be watching the game live. Fantastisch!

(Feel free to stop by my house to watch it with me. Don't forget to wear your orange.)

Sacre Bleu!

Here's what happens when I watch World Cup (hup Holland hup, btw) and work on my Gospel Principles lesson right before bed...

I dreamt I was called on a mission to France. And P.S., I would be "serving" as a member of the French national soccer team. I told them that I hadn't played soccer competitively since the fourth grade. But you know what they say - "Whom the Lord calls, he qualifies." Right?

Ole!

You Down with G.O.P.? Yeah, You Know Me

What's my reward for sitting through a debate about who can out-conservative whom and why global warming is just pretendsies? Literally one second of local TV time.

If you want to check it out, skip to 1:48 of the video clip, or just look at the screen capture above. That's my whole performance.

http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=11182133

Footloose

A 50-year-old pizza guy pulled into the neighbor's driveway while Curtis and I were playing in the front yard. He had the windows rolled down and he was blasting "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." This, of course, made Curtis instantly start dancing.

"I dancin', Dad. I dancin.'"

"Yes, son. Yes, you are."

My boy.

Classy Chassy

Now that I have a big boy job, I have to dress the part. That's why I bought these two new ties today. At Harmon's. That's right, Harmon's. The grocery store.

I'll race you suckers to the top of the corporate ladder.

The Karate Kid

Curtis's transition into Nursery has been a bit rocky, but it seems like we're making some progress. He's crying a little less when I sneak out each week but we're still having some troubles with his behavior.

Traci is the primary song leader and does singing time with the Nursery kids every other week. Last week, Curtis walked up to her during a song all sweet-like, kicked her in the shin, and then sat back down.

He's a real treasure.

I Pooh in Blue

This commercial almost makes up for all the hours of Nick Jr. I've had to suffer through over the past few years. I wonder what Mr. Huggies CEO thought the first time the advertising agency pitched this idea.

P.S. I'm fairly positive this is the style Curtis will be rockin' this summer.

I entertained myself during church today by singing the hymns in a Bob Dylan voice.

Hoop Dreams

After years of not touching a basketball, I suddenly have the desire to get my game on. I figured to get back into shape I'd better start with someone at my skill level. Here's me taking five-year-old Ryan to school.

Um, Music Reviews

Lots o' Record Reviews lately:



Good Morning, Magpie - Murder By Death (A rockin' punk-meets-bluegrass--or punk grass, as the kids are calling it--record.)
High Violet - The National (There's nothing as good here as "Fake Empire," but a solid release, nevertheless. Recommended.)
If I Had a Hi-Fi - Nada Surf (Pretty good for a covers album.)
Enemy of the World - Four Year Strong (A surprisingly good emo album, in the vein of Taking Back Sunday. Recommended.)
Red Light Fever - Taylor Hawkins & The Coattail Riders (Foo Fighters drummer makes some solid '70s rock. Unfortunately, I'm not a big fan of '70s rock.)
What is Love? - Never Shout Never (If you were a 13-year-old girl you'd be madly in love with this band.)

Losing My Religion

My faith has been shaken. A few weeks ago, I asked all of my loyal Manifesto readers to help support me in my quest to get the most Toothy clicks. (A big thanks to everyone who clicked, btw.) Though I felt a little guilty asking, I figured the videos would at least provide some mild amusement. And then my old high school friend, Jeff "Hoover" Hoffman dropped the bomb.

He said, and I quote:

"This is a total rip-off of my 4th grade video project. I was the original Toothy. I'll have to see if I can find the old VHS it's on and get it uploaded. Then the royalty checks can start pouring in."

I, of course, did not believe Hoover. "I'll believe it when I see, Hoover. You dirty dog," I responded.

Hoover never backs down from a challenge. It couldn't have been two days later that Traci came home from work with the clunky old VHS tape that had been delivered to her straight from the Hoffman family archives (the clip was sandwiched between a made-for-TV movie and grandma and grandpa's 50th wedding anniversary.)

I watched it. The story checks out.

Without further ado, here's the 10-year-old Hoover starring as Toothy, the main character in this Hollywood-quality production. It's his evil-cavity-father, however, that really steals the show.



What can I say? I'm a fraud.

In Sacrament Meeting

Once again, Curtis makes a mad dash toward the podium from our seats in the back.

I grab him by the back of his elastic waist.

He yells, in the quiet of the meeting,

"Dad, let go, let go, LET GO MY BUMPER!"

Dear Lance Bass, It's Like Looking in a Mirror - Celebrity Encounter #2

Who would have thought that a quick visit to Solvang, California (as close as I ever gotten to my Danish roots) would result in a brush with celebrity.

Back in the day, I was often mistaken for gay N*Sync astronaut, Lance Bass. So you can only imagine my reaction when I looked him right in the face at Paula's Pancake House.

I was walking to the bathroom, minding my own business, when I saw him out of the corner of my eye. (I was on heightened celebrity alert after seeing Luke from The OC the night before.)

I quickly returned to Traci.

"I'm 95% sure I just saw Lance Bass," I said in my Lucille-Ball-on-The-Simpsons whisper-voice.

"What? No you didn't."

To prove it, I took my handy little Flip camera and did some undercover videography. (I just looked at it. It's bumpy and you can see everyone but Lance Bass.)

Since I couldn't convince Traci thusly, she took matters into her own hands. Or rather, she took herself to the bathroom.

"It's him," she confirmed with ear-to-ear grin.

If you don't believe me--or Traci--go ahead and judge for yourself. Here's the shaky footage:



Yep, Lance Bass eating pancakes with a group of dudes in Solvang, CA on a Saturday morning.

He was gone by the time we left, so we were unable to say, "Bye, Bye, By-ye" to Mr. Bass.

Lance Bass and receding-hairline-me are no longer doppelgangers. My life is over.

At The Pharmacy - Celebrity Encounter #1

I didn't want to go the CVS Pharmacy to buy makeup remover. After my homie Rhett's wedding rehearsal dinner in Los Olivos, CA, Traci and I stopped at the Albertsons to pick up some breakfast supplies for the next morning. I was ready to head back to Rhett's parent's ranch in Lompoc but Traci thought it best to be a good guest and spare the white towels from the black mascara.

And that's when we saw him. Luke from The OC. Standing at the cash register next to us with a buddy. Buying massive amount of Smirnoff Ice and Bud Light. At the pharmacy. On a Friday night. In Buellton, CA.

Here are all of the things I thought about saying to him in the time it took the cashier to ring up all of the alcohol.

--Luke [I would call him Luke because I don't his real name - Chris Carmack - off the top of my head], we loved you in The OC. It was totally our favorite show. [True story.]

--Luke, I'm sorry you're dad turned gay at the end of the first season. [True.]

--Luke, you know it was all your fault that Marissa overdosed in Tijuana. [True again.]

--Luke, I loved you in Bring it On Part II [Lie. This is actuality the worst of the Bring it Ons.]

--Luke, I loved you in that movie where you were trapped on the desert island with Amanda Bynes. [True, but I wouldn't say "I'm sad you had to be in a movie with her after her head turned into a giant pumpkin. She was so cute in that movie when she snuck onto the boy's soccer team."]

Instead, Traci and I just looked at each other and said the following with our eyes:

--He's shorter than I thought

--He still has that '90s hair

--Why's he buying all this alcohol at the pharmacy?

This was pretty much the best Friday night in Buellton ever.

Girls and Boys

Sometimes Paige says cute little things to me. Out of the blue today, while we were driving in the car, she said, "I like sitting by you, dad."

Curtis, not one to be left out, shared his feelings as well. "I like pizza, dad."

In Rock 'n Roll Lately

Paramore

Album Reviews

Congratulations, MGMT - Though they've put out some great singles, this band--and this album especially--are pretty disappointing.

Pearly Gate Music, Pearly Gate Music - Both slow and mopey (a la David Bazan) and '60s hippie rocky. Pretty good.

Goodnight Dannii, Drew Danburry - Probably Provo dude's best record. He gives most of his music away for free at drewdanburry.com. Check it out for sure.

Permalight, Rogue Wave - Rogue Wave get dancey on this one. Highly recommended.

The Last Place You'll Look EP, We Were Promised Jetpacks - The EP is okay, but not nearly as good as their debut LP. Start there.

Habits, Neon Trees - These Provo-ites are going to be the next big thing with their Killers-esque new wave.

Interviews

Paramore - The phones at my work went dead the second I was supposed to do the interview. I ended up having to put my little recorder up to the ear hole of my cell phone. Nothing recorded, thus making it a bit tricky to pull quotes.

Drew Danburry - He's playing his last full-band show at Kilby tomorrow night if anyone wants to go with me.

DVR Disappointment

The DVR let us down. Instead "Pregnant at 70," it actually recorded "Wild Child: The Story of Feral Children." Though I can't stand Traci's Whoops, I'm Pregnant-type shows, I actually got sucked into the stories of children being raised by wolves and neighborhood dogs. And I had nightmares all night long.

I am happy to see that Traci has DVRed "Pregnant at 70." I was afraid I would miss it.

Hallucinations of an Enormous Tooth

We did two days of shooting for the Toothy commercials. On the second day, I bought lunch for the crew lunch at my work's cafeteria. It only caused a little commotion having a giant tooth going through the salad bar line, but it really did a number on the guy making the sandwiches.

Toothy can't talk, of course. So I would say, "Toothy, do you want ham?"

He shakes his head.

"Turkey?"

Nod.

"Pickles?"

He holds ups two of his four fingers.

(It took us about five minutes to order one stupid sandwich this way.)

At one point, the sandwich guy looks at Toothy, and then looks at me and says, "Uh, you're seeing this too, right? I have made decisions in my life that would make seeing a giant, talking tooth a little bit trippy. I'm kind of freaking out right now."

---
Do me a solid and watch some of these videos:

The New Guy
The Phone Call
The Stalker
The Vending Machine
The Psychiatrist

Very Little Robot in My Rock

Once again, Paige puts me in my place.

Just a few bars into me singing "One More Time," she says authoritatively, "Dad, you're not Daft Punk."

And in case I didn't get the message, she adds, "You're not Daft OR Punk."

In Desperate Need of Some Help (And, Yes, I'm Crying Wolf)

It's nice when you have a job that is willing to take advantage of your extensive mascot-handling experience. I've had many crazy experiences since becoming the owner of Toothy, the giant tooth, that I'll share soon.

Until then, I need you to watch (or at least click on) the videos below so I can win a marketing competition at work. (And, in so doing, destroy my idiot friend Kaleb.)

So click, pretty please.

The New Guy
The Phone Call
The Stalker
The Vending Machine
The Psychiatrist