This Week's Music, Fleet Foxes, The Naked and Famous, Reaganomics

Fleet Foxes
Helplessness Blues

Though he’s only in his 20s, Fleet Foxes singer and leader Robin Pecknold is an old soul. His band’s sound echoes former times, channeling the folk of Simon and Garfunkel and paying homage to the intricate harmonies of the Beach Boys. While the group’s debut LP was an ode to the majesty of the forest and the sun, Pecknold turns inward on “Helplessness Blues.” His wanderings are filled with introspective questions, as he ponders both his youth (“Now I am older than my mother and father/When they had their daughter/Now what does that say about me?”) and his eventual death (“I woke up one morning/All my fingers rotten/I woke up a dying man without a chance”). The music matches the weightiness of the subject matter and every note is perfectly placed—lush harmonies, finger-picked guitar melodies, and Pecknold’s soaring tenor.  Having successfully reached the top of the mountain, it’s hard to see where Fleet Foxes will go from here. 

For fans of: Simon and Garfunkel, Bon Iver

Rating: 3.5 of 4
Check out: Montezuma

The Naked and Famous
Passive Me, Aggressive You

These New Zealand electro-rockers are a sneaky bunch. Their outstanding, ultra-dancey lead single “Punching in a Dream” would lead you to believe that the group is nothing more than a well-polished, hook-heavy pop group. While that would be enough, their debut record offers up even more. Dueling boy-girl vocalists Thom Powers and Alisa Xayalith are equally adept at getting dark and moody (“Frayed,” “The Sun”). And just when you think they might drown in their ‘80s goth-inspired angst, they come back with another dreamy bounce-along (“Young Blood”) that should become the soundtrack for every teenage soap opera. Here’s to a solid debut and plenty of unexpected surprises.

For fans of: the xx, Tegan and Sara

Rating: 3.5 of 4
Check out: Young Blood

Reaganomics
Lower the Bar

Metal-punk trio Ryan's Hope were trying to make a record when they decided to take a break from taking themselves so serious. They kicked the tempo up a few hundred beats per second and unleashed every junior high joke they could remember. The result is “Lower the Bar,” a record that is equal parts NoFX and stand-up comedy. Other than a few outliers, each song track clocks in at under 90 seconds. The band masterfully tackles pressing social such as programming on The WB, Ed Hardy t-shirts, and Robocop. The songs are catchy, slightly stupid, and perfect for the pit.

For fans of: NoFX, Rancid

Rating: 3 of 4
Check out: Don't Worry, We'll Play First

Tate, Lady Killer

Either people in San Diego have never seen a baby (maybe), or Tate is, in fact, the cutest little guy in the world (probably).

Traci and Tate accompanied me to a work conference in San Diego last week, and Tate was all the rage. From the second we stepped in the airplane, the little guy was getting compliments left and right. Including, but not limited to, the stewardess staring lovingly at him while performing her safety spiel and then asking me if I'd needed her to burp him. Seriously.

After Curtis' meltdown on the plane ride home from Disneyland, I wasn't sure I would ever fly with one of our kids again.  But Tate was a masterful traveler, quietly having a bottle on the way there and sleeping the entire flight back.

The idea behind taking Traci and Tate was to give Traci a little break from chasing around all three kids. Of course, the second we got in San Diego, all we could think about were the things we wanted to show Paige and Curtis. Oh, the guilt.

But those two couldn't have been happier with their time with each of the grandmas and all of the cousins. The morning after we got home, Curtis woke up and said, "Which grandma's are we going to today?"

Maybe we'll go on more vacations without them.

Enjoying the sun at the San Diego Zoo

Wrestling with the pillows

Zonked out while we ate Mexican food in Old Town

Things I Ate at Squatter's Tonight

1. Chicken pizza
2. Beef sliders
3. Mini sausages
4. Pita and hummus
5. Ribs
6. Little taquitos
7. Blackberry tart

My digestive system may never forgive me. (But everything was so delicious.)

Review: Beastie Boys

Beastie Boys
Hot Sauce Committee, Pt. 2

Did I miss something? Where did the “Hot Sauce Committee, Pt. 2” come from? I didn’t even know there was a Pt. 1.

It turns out the band played a fast one on me. (Or maybe a slow one.) The Beasties were planning on releasing a two-part “Hot Sauce” series until Adam Yauch was diagnosed with cancer in 2009. While he recovered, the New York City trio retooled the project, releasing it as just one disc. (You can find Pt. 1 as an import, but before you shell out the extra $20 bucks, you should know it’s almost exactly the same as Pt. 2.)

For most artist, a two-year delay would certainly kill a record. Not so for the Beastie Boys. Like all their records, “Hot Sauce” exists in a strange time warp, somewhere between 1985 and outerspace.

The Beastie Boys have never felt obliged to fit into a definable category. Over the past 25 years, the groups has done pretty much done whatever they’ve wanted. Obnoxious hip-hop (“License to Ill”)? Sure. An eight-song punk rock EP (“Aglio e Olio”) that clocks in at 11 minutes? Why not. An ‘80s throwback album (“To the 5 Boroughs”) followed by a an instrumental record (“The Mix-Up”). Of course.

While each of those records had a very specific flavor, “Hot Sauce” is more reminiscent of “Check Your Head,” when all those various styles got dropped in a blender. The record starts on a high note with the funky “Make Some Noise” and the robotic “Ok.” It gets even better when they make room for a rare guest appearance, inviting fellow New Yorker Nas to add some bite to the attacking “Too Many Rappers.”

While the trio have kept with the same rhyme patterns since their early days (who else can still get away with using lines like “Let me introduce myself, I’m Ad-Rock?”), their music never stays in the same place. “Say It” sounds like a cover of Onyx’s 1993 hit “Slam” and “Don’t Play No Game” finds the group on a tropical island with Santogold.

“Hot Sauce” is wildly uneven. Things get murky in the middle third (the fuzzy “Long Burn the Fire,” the warbly “Tadlock’s Glasses”) and there are a few misses (“Crazy A%% S*&%”). But that’s a small price to pay for a record that is willing to take risks without taking itself too seriously.



For fans of: Run-DMC, Rage Against the Machine
Rating: 3 of 4
Check out: Make Some Noise (Vevo)

Congraduation

We went to Paige's preschool graduation yesterday, or "congraduation" as she calls it. The class offered up a stirring rendition of the Alphabet Song, and then an uber-jazzy take on Old MacDonald Had a Farm before receiving their well-deserved diplomas.

I couldn't help but feel a little emotional. I can't believe it's already been two years since we shipped Paige off to preschool--first to Miss Margaret's and then to the real deal.

Looking back through my blog archives, I was surprised that I didn't really say much about Paige going to school. We were so worried about it. Worried that she would be scared. Worried that she wouldn't fit in. Worried that she'd have a meltdown if the teacher or the other kids didn't do things exactly the way she wanted them to.

It turns out, preschool has been the best thing that could have happened to her. She's loved learning (and bossing the other kids around a bit) and singing and playing. It's made such a positive difference in her ability to be around new people and new things.

Her teacher has been so sweet with her. She's from eastern Europe and has a very thick accent. That's probably why Paige sometimes tells me she sat on the rug by Ree-chard or is going to play with Kait-leen.

But now preschool is over and it's time to start pre-worrying about kindergarten.

And the Band Has a Name

The other day, we were having a little family band rehearsal. Curtis was manning the drums, I was on guitar, and Paige was handling vocal and keyboard duties. I love how Paige makes up lyrics as she sings, usually things like "I'm gonna keep on rockin'" and "oh yeah, oh yeah, alright" (she clearly already understands the fundamentals of rock 'n roll lyricism).

After we finished up, I asked her what the name of our band should be. Almost without hesitation, she said, "The Hammers."

Doesn't get any more rockin' than that.

Watch for our debut album in 2013.

The Vince Lombardi of Soccer

I (substitute) coached my first soccer game this week. Was I the best coach to ever step foot on the pitch? I'll leave that to the sports historians. But I will say that Paige's first question to me was, "Why are you coaching my team tonight?"

There are probably a few different answers to that question:


Well, my dear, someone needs to bring this team back from a null-3 deficit to eventually tie the game, just as time expires.

Or the regular coach didn't show up and I was the only parent there who didn't have a gaggle of kids with him. (I just had one chubby 3-year-old that I held while I coached.)

Either way, I feel like I left the field with my legacy intact.

Silverstein Good. Sharks Better. Bazan Best.

This week's reviews. Here's the Reader's Digest version.

Silverstein=Paint-my-numbers emo.Still good.

Sharks=Sounds like The Clash. Great if you like The Clash.

Bazan=A tough listen, but worth repeat listens.

David Bazan

Strange Negotiations

Over the past 15-plus years, David Bazan has spent his time praising God, then questioning his motives, and finally breaking up with Him entirely. On his first release since making the evangelical split official (see 2009’s “Curse Your Branches” ), Bazan faces the challenge of writing a record without the Big Guy. “Strange Negotiations” addresses the big question of “what’s next?” Not in terms of religion, but of what it takes to be a good human being. Instead of looking heavenward, Bazan dives deep into his own heart. He sings “I want to level with myself/I want to level with friends/I want to level with my kid/And be at peace with it.” While Bazan’s tongue remains silver, the music is much less polished. A darkness hangs over the record, which is uncharacteristically riff-heavy. Much like his Headphones side project, “Strange Negotiations” requires listener’s full attention and gets better with each listen.

For fans of: Death Cab for Cutie, Rocky Votolato

Rating: 3.5 of 4
Check out: Wolves At The Door (MP3, swear words)

Silverstein

Rescue

As emo bands go from having broken hearts to having a wife and kids, there is no shortage of growing pains. Some decide to get heavier, some get lighter, and most simply fall by the wayside. Scene stalwarts Silverstein have chosen to stay the course. On any given track of “Rescue,” the band screams up a lung, wields guitars as a blunt-force instrument, and dangles its heart from its sleeve. The band’s songwriting has certainly improved over their decade-long career, but more impressive is their ear for pacing. The record moves nicely between melodic rockers (“Intervention”), straightforward ballads (“Good Luck with Your Lives”), and ultra-heavy dirges (“The Artist”), without ever losing steam.

For fans of: Bayside, Taking Back Sunday

Rating: 3 of 4
Check out: Medication (YouTube)

Sharks

The Joys of Living 2008-2010

It’s comforting to know that 15 years after the demise of The Clash, the spirit of Joe Strummer is still alive and well. The Sharks, a four piece British outfit, follow The Clash’s model of mixing punk, reggae, and good ol’ fashioned rock ‘n roll. The band makes the sound their own not by musical innovation, but by sheer exuberance. The tunes jump out of the speakers and bounce off the walls, in hopes that someone out there would please just start a circle pit. A compilation of the band’s first three EPs, “The Joys of Living,” couldn’t be a better teaser for an eventual full-length debut .

For fans of: The Clash, Gaslight Anthem

Rating: 3 of 4
Check out: Three Houses (YouTube)

Eminem vs. the Deseret News

Remember when I wrote that Eminem review that got the Internet all mad at me?At the time, I was freaking out a bit (in a good way) because that article had more than 2,500 views--which was like 10 times more than any other review I had done.

The other day, I wrote my first article for KSL.com, a quick little piece about upcoming shows in Salt Lake. Within a few hours, it had more than 4,000 views. Not because of angry Eminem fans, just because KSL is obviously a zillion times bigger than IN. 

I'm happy for the exposure, but as far as I can tell, I may not get any money from my Zion-leaning friends. So this may be my first and last submission for KSL.

In the meantime, my Eminem review has reached nearly 15,000 views. I believe I was paid $10 for that one.

I'll be financially sound and ready to retire any day now.

Me. On TV.

I showed up at work on Monday to find out I'd be doing a little TV interview with Big Budah. I called Traci to ask if she'd record it.

The clip aired live and the second it was over I got this text from Traci:

"Our kids are freaking out seeing you on TV right now. They love it."

But it wasn't all good. Apparently Paige was very bothered that she was talking to me on the TV, but I wasn't responding. (Rude of me, I know.)

When I got home, they were both very excited to tell me that they had seen me. They were also very interested in knowing how I got on TV. I really think Paige was expecting me to explain the science of video recording and satellite transmission and such, but she had to settle for my response of "I dunno. I just was."

 
Can't see the video? Here's the link.

This Week's Music: Screeching Weasel, Pains of Being Pure in Heart, Explosions in the Sky

Screeching Weasel
First World Manifesto

After a 10-year hiatus, Ben Weasel and his band are out to prove they are just as punk as they were when they formed the band in 1986. The 43-year-old Weasel still sounds like he’s singing with his nose pinched closed as he spews sarcasm at his punk rock peers, ex-girlfriends, and young poseurs. The tales are tired and cliche, but with all of the three-chord bounce and high harmonies it’s hard to deny their catchiness. A dozen records into the catalog, “First World Manifesto” is far essential, but does serve as a reminder of why so many bands have been influenced by Mr. Weasel over the past  25 years.

For fans of: Teenage Bottlerocket, NoFX
Rating: 2.5 of 4

 Check out: Frankengirl

Explosions in the Sky [Manifesto Approved]
Take Care, Take Care, Take Care

In the era of the highly-compressed MP3 single, Explosions in the Sky make absolutely no sense.  The songs are long, winding, and completely void of vocals. The record clocks in at 45 minutes, with just six tracks. Fortunately, the same things that keep the band from fitting in also allow it to stand out. Over six records, the band has mastered the balance between the meandering, slow build (“Be Comfortable, Creature”) and cacophonous climax (“Last Known Surroundings”).  “Take Care, Take Care, Take Care” should only be listened to one way--in its entirety, from start to finish.


For fans of: Letting Up Despite Great Heights, Caspian
Rating: 3.5 of 4 

Check out: Last Known Surroundings

 
The Pains of Being Pure in Heart [Manifesto Approved]
Belong


The Pains of Being Pure in Heart have found plenty of inspiration in ‘90s shoegaze alterna-rock. So the choice of producer Flood and mixer Alan Moulder (the dudes that made bands like Smashing Pumpkins and Nine Inch Nails famous) makes perfect sense. Their influence is immediately apparent on the album opener, “Belong,” which is bathed in fuzzed-out guitars. The rest of the record, however, is more lighthearted, with hooks front and center and Kip Berman’s vocals always thin and dream-like. Both directions work well for the band, but “Belong” may have been even more interesting had the band explored more of a balance between the mega-fuzzy and the ultra-light.

For fans of: Temper Trap, the xx
Rating: 3.5 of 4 
Check out:  Belong

Tate, Lately

This kiddo has already been with us for a month. (For Traci, one long, sleepless month.) Curtis continues to ignore him (probably the best case scenario) and Paige will likely love (nay, smother) him to death.

Here he is at two weeks:

This Week's Music: Face to Face, Does It Offend You, Yeah?, Telekinesis

Not a bad bunch of records this week. Face to Face is a long time favorite. Their record is solid, not amazing. Both the Does It Offend You and Telekinesis albums are good, but not quite as memorable as their debuts.



Face to Face
Laugh Now, Laugh Later

Over the past 20 years, Face to Face front man Trever Keith hasn’t been afraid to experiment. There was the slowed-down “Ignorance is Bliss,” the nostalgic cover album “Standards & Practices,” and the nuanced solo record “Melancholics Anonymous.” But what Keith does best is write punk rock songs. After calling it quits in 2003, he recently decided it was time to get the band back together. The band picks right up where “How to Ruin Everything” left off. Following the signature Face to Face formula, the songs are both immediate--with machine gun drumming and lightning bass lines--and laid back, thanks to Keith’s behind-the-beat vocal delivery. Despite the musical detours throughout the years, “Laugh Now, Laugh Later” is right on track. On “I Don’t Mind and You Don’t Matter,” Keith sings, “I’ve come full circle/And I’m almost where I started from/In spite of all I’ve done.” That’s a good thing. This is where Keith belongs.

For fans of: Pennywise, Bad Religion
Rating: 3.5 of 4



Telekinesis
12 Desperate Straight Lines


In the studio, Telekinesis is one-man act Michael Benjamin Lerner. It’s not surprising that his upbeat tunes caught the attention of Death Cab for Cutie guitarist Chris Walla, as his tunes aren’t far removed from Death Cab’s early work. Walla has produced both Telekinesis records, allowing Lerner’s sense for hooks to stand front-and-center on both records. Though “12 Desperate Straight Lines” is deeply rooted in guitar-based indie rock, it wouldn’t be out of place in the ‘90s-college-rock bin, with the fuzzy bass lines and recorded-in-the garage feel. Many of the lyrics may be about heart break, but this is an album built for rejoicing.


For fans of: Death Cab for Cutie, Say Hi
Rating: 3.5 of 4




Does It Offend You, Yeah?
Don’t Say We Didn’t Warn You


The second record from British synth rockers Does It Offend You, Yeah? doesn’t vary much from their impressive 2008 debut. The band still vacillates between brash electronic riffs (“The Monkeys are Coming”) and straight-forward new wave throwbacks (“Pull Out My Insides”). What makes this band so interesting is their ability to occupy both spaces--often in the same track--without ever sounding disjointed. The most noticeable difference with the second record is the underlying haunted-funhouse feel, with spooky synth lines sneaking into nearly every track. Though slightly off-kilter, the sounds work perfectly for a band that doesn’t quite fit in.


For fans of: Pendulum, !!!
Rating: 3 of 4

Bend it Like....

Dance class is over. Now it's soccer time. And it's serious. (This fact is made abundantly clear by Paige's intense goalie stance.)

Callin' Baton Rouge

Though much of our attention has been on Tate lately, things haven't slowed down with the other two terrors. Paige just had her second dance recital. This time, things got a little bit country.

For those with 1:45 on their hands, here's a clip from the big performance.

Beautiful Boy

More photos from Tate's first fashion shoot (and second day on Earth).

Pick Your Poison

For 20 years, I have struggled with a question for the ages. Which "Poison" is better? Alice Cooper's ode to the evil woman, or the Bel Biv Devoe tune that gives the best advice ever put to music ("Never trust a big butt and a smile")?





On an unrelated Alice Cooper note, if you type "Alice Cooper" into the Google toolbar, it wants to auto-fill with "Alice Cooper Mormon." That takes you to Celebrities Rumored to be Mormon.

About Cooper:

His father's name was Ether Moroni Furnier. Jay Evenson, who is the Deseret News' editorial page editor and teaches an opinion writing class at BYU, interviewed him once. His family belonged to an offshoot of the LDS Church, but his father was later ordained a minister in the Baptist church.

(The site also reveals the genesis of "Steve Martin is a Mormon.")

When a Blockbuster Video Dies

A weird blanket and socks store is born. Everyday as I drive by, I see
all of the blankets that would perfectly complement our decor. But
which should I choose? The N.W.A. or the Dr. Dre?  What am I saying? I
need something the whole family can enjoy. I'll go with the Tupac.
That'll keep us warm at night.

Drie Jaar Oud

Three years of this kid. We still [mostly] like him. Happy birthday to the kid born on 4/20 (also Hitler's birthday).

Invoking Snoopy power

Feels like I'm looking at a picture of Tate

This Week's Music: Yellowcard, The Strokes, Smoking Popes

Yellowcard
When You're Through Thinking, Say Yes

Of all the Blink-182-inspired acts of the early 2000s, Yellowcard made the biggest splash. In less than a decade, the band has experienced both huge commercial success and the stresses that led to a two-year hiatus. On their fifth full-length, Yellowcard sounds renewed. They've ratcheted up the tempo and pushed Sean Mackin's violin back into the forefront. Though this is a clearly a nod to the band's early sound (it's hard not to think that Ryan Key is singing to longtime fans when he says, "Let me back in/Love me again" on the opening track), it doesn't feel like they're pandering to the past. Instead, "Say Yes" shows the band is continuing to hone its craft without losing track of its strengths.

For fans of: Blink-182, Fall Out Boy
Rating: 3 of 4

The Strokes
Angles

Before making "Angles," The Strokes had been broken up almost as long as they had been together. With the band members each filling the past five years with different projects, it's not surprising that "Angles" is all over the musical map. "Machu Picchu" dips into reggae, "You're So Right" is cold and robotic, and "Games" is filled with dreamy synths. Everything here is delivered with precision, from the live drums that sound like a drum machine to the guitars that sound like keyboards; only Julian Casablanca's sleepy and often-distorted vocals eschew the glossy production. Despite the strong execution, the tunes lack the emotional pull of the band's early records. The parts are all there, but somehow the whole is missing.  

For fans of: Arctic Monkeys, Interpol
Rating: 3 of 4

Smoking Popes
Wish We Were

Not many 40-year-old singers can deliver lines like "I don't want to go college/I don't wanna be another puppet of the man" without sounding like an idiot. But Josh Caterer is no average singer. Since the early '90s, he's found a way to mix punk rock with Sinantra-style crooning. He uses "Wish We Were" to relive his teenage years--chasing unrequited love ("Wish You Were"), mortgaging his future ("College"), and sleeping on stranger's floors ("Punk Band"). Even though the record is a tongue-in-cheek look at high school drama (the vocals on "Diary of a Teen Tragedy" are straight out of "The Wonder Years"), the songs are seriously catchy. I can't stop singing "I want to come out to the show with you tonight/But I've got mono, I've got mono."

For fans of: Green Day, The Ramones
Rating: 3 of 4

Radio Flyer

I pulled Curtis around the neighborhood in the wagon yesterday. Paige decided to stay home. I couldn't believe how quiet it was without her. Just the day before, I had to have this conversation with her in the wagon--completely unprovoked.

PAIGE: I don't ever want to live on Neptune. It's waaay too cold there. I would freeze to death!

ME: Why do you know that? Where did you learn about Neptune?

PAIGE: And I don't want to live on Mercury because it's too hot and I would boil up.

ME: Who teaches you these things? [It's clearly not me, because I do not know these things.]

PAIGE: I only want to live on Earth. My favorite country is Australia because kangaroos live there and so do The Wiggles.

Curtis just sat quietly in the wagon. Wonderfully quiet.

Naming Convention

As usual, we went to the hospital without a name for this kid. We had a shortlist, but while we were in the delivery room, we quickly realized that we didn't have them ranked in the same order.

It drives hospital folk crazy when you don't have a name. The nurses want to write the name on the whiteboard and on the tag on the bassinet. The doctor wants to call the kid by name to coax him out of the womb. And the person that's most worried about it is the lady who hassles you every five seconds to fill out the birth certificate forms.

We officially decided to call him Tate the night before we left the hospital. So that everyone could the announcement at once, I sent a text to all of our family members. Because I know that the entire concept of text messages enrages my mother, I called her directly as well.

My dad answered the phone. Before I could even ask if they had seen the text, he told me that he and Paige had decided on a name. Max. This didn't surprise me, as Paige had been calling the kid Max for months.

"Well, about that. I'm calling to see if you got my text. His name is going to be Tate."

"Tate? Paige, your little brother is going to be called Tate."

Through the phone, I could hear her disappointment.

When I picked the kids up from my parents', we had a have a long talk about it.

"He's not Tate, he's Max," Paige began.

"What if we called him Max as a nickname?" I countered.

"No, let's call him Max and Tate can be his nickname." I could already tell I was losing.

"How 'bout you call him Max and mom and I will call him Tate."

"Daaad, grown-ups don't get to choose the name. The oldest kid gets to choose the name because kids love the baby the most."

We finally found a compromise. She could call him Max and even make him a Mii avatar named Max. (Everyone in Paige's life has a Mii--from her cousins to Alvin and the Chipmunks. We just found out that the Wii can only hold 100 Miis. Paige reached the limit.) We immediately went in the house and created the Max Mii.

Apparently, all she needed was to sleep on it. The first thing she said to me in the morning was, "Dad, I think I'm going to call little brother Tate, too."

And that was that. He's Tate.

The Process of Belief

As I've said before, when I started writing for IN, I had a short list of bands I wanted to interview. Bad Religion was near the top. My first chance to talk to them came in advance of  the Warped Tour in 2009. Of course, I had hoped to get singer (and book writer) Greg Graffin. Instead, I got the only guy in the band I didn't want to talk to, drummer Brooks Wackerman. Not only is he the new guy (he joined the band back in 2000), but his former side project, Hot Potty, was possibly the worst band I'd ever seen live. 

As it turned out, Brooks was great to talk to. So good, in fact, that I take back all the bad things I have said about him in the past. 

Goodwill aside, I was pretty excited when I heard that was going to get to talk to founding member, bassist Jay Bentley this time around. Jay is the big, smiling face of the band. On the phone, he was just as charismatic and full of laughter as I had hoped. 

I asked him the usual questions about band longevity, influences, etc. But I really wanted to ask him about faith.

Bad Religion was formed by a bunch of high school kids in the Reagan era. They chose the band name (and the "cross busters" logo) as a response to the televangelism of the '80s, and of course, to piss people off. It would seem, though, that as they grew up, their black and white anti-religion sentiment would become more gray. Alas, nay. It is is still a constant lyrical topic for Graffin and the whole thesis of his book hinges on the lack of God. 

I wanted to see if that stance was shared by the rest of the guys. I didn't get a real straight answer but I did enjoy these two responses: 

It’s been a long time since you guys decided to call yourselves Bad Religion. What would happen if you walked into the room today and said, “Hey guys, I’m a born again Christian! I converted last night.”

[Big laugh] There is no hard/fast rule about anything. I’m sure if [guitarist] Brian [Baker] came in and said, ‘Guys, I’ve never told you, but I’m a Republican,’ we’d all have a laugh, point fingers, giggle, and get back to work.

There’s one thing about this band that I can honestly say that we’ve learned--each and every member has their own individual ideas and purposes. We’re not a team, not a unit, not a gang. We don’t all wear the same clothes and we don’t fly a flag. We are all separate people who have learned to make room for all of our ideologies.

There is more faith in this band than you might know. It has never been a problem. It is something we always talk about--how can you have this type of belief--those are the long discussions we have on 10 hour drives. There’s room for everybody here.

Are there a lot of religious Bad Religion fans out there?

I’ve met more people than you can imagine--whether they are parents or kids--who have a faith or an organized religion that they belong to. One of the things that we’ve always said is, ‘There’s nothing wrong with religion, it’s what people do with it.’ When it seems selfish or egocentric, that’s when there’s a problem.

Everyone deserves to be happy. And whatever makes people happy is completely awesome. But there seems to be people in the world who can’t leave well enough alone, [and say] ”I’m happy, but I need more. I want others to believe what I believe and if they don’t, they’re automatically considered an enemy.” I can’t agree with philosophy ever.

Good conversation, good interview. I'm bummed I wasn't able to make the show.

Read the full article here.

Happy to be Home

Despite the constant chaos, Tate seems pretty content with his home.

So You Were Born, and That Was a Good Day

It's already been a week since Tate came home from the hospital. Having a new little one in the house doesn't exactly create tons of free time, so I excuse myself for not having written before now (though I still feel a bit guilty). So let's start with the most important part. The pictures.

Fresh out of the oven

Shirt fits like a glove

The eyes eventually opened

First day home, rockin' the guitar jammies

Hooligans

Behind that megaphone is a pretty cute girl

Paige and I went to the Real Salt Lake game tonight. She was a total super fan, cheering into her RSL megaphone for all 90 minutes.

At one point she was shouting, "Defense! Defense!" and then she turned to me and asked, "What's defense?"

Brotherly Love

The kids' first interaction with Tate went about as we had expected. Paige was super excited. She could hardly wait to give Traci the letter she made us:

"Congrations to Our New Baby. Love Paige." (She had also printed off and included the picture of Tate that I had texted to our parents. I guess that was to remind us what he looks like.)

She ran right over to look and him and gasped, "Oh, he's so cuuuute."

Curtis was indifferent to his new brother, but excited to find that he could see the train tracks from our window.

I took the kids from the hospital to Paige's preschool. On the way to the car she kept saying, "This is a special day because baby brother has joined our family. This is our special day."

Curtis was just happy that we were leaving so we could go home and play Rampage on the Wii.

Welcome to the Family

Traci wasn't due until April 17. But this little guy decided to come early. Traci came home from work at 9:00, with that look in her eye.

Spencer: Are you alright?

Traci: Um, yeah. I think I'm having contractions. I'm going to get in the shower. Maybe that will make them stop.

Spencer: I don' think it works that way.

And it didn't. After the shower, we decided it was time to go. We transported Paige from her bed to the minivan (no sleep disruption for party-guy Curtis, who of course was still awake). We dropped the kids off at Traci's parents and arrived at the hospital at about 10:30 p.m.

Once at the hospital, things moved pretty quickly. At 2:00 a.m. the doctor and her posse of nurses gave Traci the green light and granted permission for me to lie on the couch in silence and concentrate on not passing out. At 2:45 a.m. we were greeted by a screaming ball of hair and red skin.(From what I could hear with my eyes closed, Traci was a champion child-birther.)

Tate Spencer Sutherland weighed in at 7 lbs. 2 oz. and 20 inches. After his bath, Tate's hair was less dark brown and more strawberry blond. Yes, we may finally have a redhead.

Newest member of the family. He's not happy about being here.

This Week's Music: Avril, Rise Against, Aquabats

One of these things is better than the others. (Hint: the answer is Rise Against.)

Rise Against - Endgame So much rage against the machine. Love it.

Aquabats  - High-Five Soup! Souds more like Yo Gabba Gabba and less like the Aquabats. I realize this is a subtle difference, but noticeable nevertheless. I've never been a big fan of the Aquabats, and even spent a few years being a hater. But I actually really liked their last album Charge! quite a bit, so I was bummed out about being bummed out by this one.

Avril Lavigne - Goodbye Lullaby I like the Hot-Topic-angsty Avril, not the divorced-lady-ballad Avril. Not good. (Still the hottest of the three bands.)

Feels Like Spring Time

At the start of the winter, I was this close to writing the following:

In continuation of the Utah-based guilt that got us hiking this summer, I am going to try to enjoy winter for once. 

But I didn't write it. And thus, I had no obligation to acknowledge the season. With yesterday's 70 degree weather, I thought I had successfully bested winter.

When it came roaring back this morning with four inches of powder, I figured fate was telling me something--namely, to get out and play in the snow with my kids.

Here's some pics of our adventures:

Curtis is up to no good

Paige is rocking the monkey hat I bought her in NYC and her gangsta attitude

Yes, this pose is still in her repertoire

Now we're officially ready for winter to depart.

At the Bon Jovi Concert

...On the very top row.

TV Guide

Am I the only one who has this type of conversations with their five-year-old?

"Dad, I put a note for you on the fridge."

"Great. What does this mean? '56C?'"

"It's so you don't forget to record the Imagination Movers concert.
It's on tonight at 5:00/6:00 Central."

We watch too much television.

Oh, The Humanity

In Sunday School today:

"Brothers and sisters, welcome to Sunday School. I am glad to see that you have all survived the calamities of the weekend."

I assumed that the class president was referring to the earthquakes in Japan.

I was wrong.

"BYU lost the tournament. But there is still hope."

The Sutherland boys are spending Friday night at Lowes, testing toilets.

Latter-Day Sutherlands

With Paige always worried that Heavenly Father is trying to steal her stuff, it's a bit tough to get her excited about having Family Home Evening.

This is the conversation I had with her last Monday night after dinner.

PAIGE: Dad, what does canceled mean?

ME: It's when something doesn't happen. Like when your dance class got canceled because your teacher was sick.

PAIGE: So, like, when someone has a cold something might be canceled?

ME: Yeah.

Then here's what happened after we all sat down for family night. And by all, I mean our family, plus all of Paige's Tinkerbell dolls and Curtis' monster trucks.

PAIGE: Wait, wait, wait. I forgot something. We can't start family night yet.

[She comes back with her toy microphone.]

PAIGE: [Into her microphone] I have an announcement. Tinkerbell is sick. [Pause for emphasis] So family night is CANCELED!

What an awful little genius.