The Return of the Little Firecracker

Curtis and Tate are almost exactly three years apart. Here's a little comparison of the two at three months old - wearing the same shirt and enjoying the 4th of July parade in Murray (the pics also serve as an evolution of Traci's little sister Makell).

Curtis is obviously a bit chunkier and I forget how red his hair was when we he was a little guy

Thankfully, Tate is more mellow than the other two have been.

The Rock 'n Roll Photo Pass: Demystified

Two feet away from CAKE's John McCrea

One of the perks of being a barely-paid music critic is that I get to go to a lot of shows for free. When I work with a band's publicist on a concert preview, they usually ask if I want to be on "the list" for the show. When people think of the list, they immediately imagine Wayne and Garth hanging out backstage with Alice Cooper.

Alas, nay. (Though I did get to hang out on Streetlight Manifesto's bus once. Coolest. Experience. Ever.)

It just means that I show up at the venue and say to the ticket person or whoever, "I'm on the list." They find my name -  on an actual list - and let me in without paying. While this sounds great, about every fourth time, my name hasn't really made it to the list, which results in no small amount of awkwardness, especially if I've brought a friend with me.

Sometimes I'm also offered a photo pass. If asked in advance, I say I don't need one. The reason is two fold:

1. I just have a crappy little point-and-shoot camera and I'd feel dumb standing up on the stage taking photos with it. 
2. I have no idea what such a pass entitles me to. Do I go on stage? Do I poke around in front of the band? Do I hold my pass up (again, a la Wayne's World) and work my way to the front of the crowd?

 So when I'm given a press pass at the door, I just stick it on my shirt (to look cool) and do nothing with it.

At the CAKE show a few weeks back, I was handed a pass. I decided to finally be a man and take some pictures. I bravely walked up to a security guy standing by the stage and said, "Where can I go with this photo pass?"

He looked blankly at me and shrugged his shoulders.

Eventually, another lady come up and said, "You can take pictures at the front of the stage for the first three songs."

So I did. I stood in front of the lounging-on-the-grass crowd at Red Butte garden and pretended like I knew what I was doing. Not looking like an idiot became more difficult once I was standing next to a photographer from SLUG magazine, who did know what he was doing. But I hung in there.

For about 90 seconds.

About halfway through the first song, I had taken a dozen or so pictures, which seemed like more than enough. I went back to seat, successfully having overcome my oh-so-life-threatening fear of photo passes. I am a changed man.

One of my photos is above. The SLUG guy's pics are here. I feel like I held my own.

Why I Am the Best Dad Ever, According to Paige

"Because you reach down my toys when they're up high."

A Beautiful Mind, Anyone?

This is what Paige has done to the walls in her room. At this point, it's adorable. If she starts seeing messages in the pictures, it will be frightening.

Very Much a Redhead

And we still like him.

Paige's Day of Pentecost

I've mentioned that Paige isn't always big on church. Maybe tonight was the turnaround.

In the parking lot at Lowe's [unprovoked]:

Paige: Parents are not the boss anymore. No parents of any families are the boss. There is only one boss over the whole world. And that's Jesus!

Testify, sister!

I have a feeling that this has less to do with any religious conviction than with the fact that she refuses to accept that Traci or I should be able to tell her what to do.

On Sunday she said to me, "Dad, YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME! I'm the boss because I'm the most beautiful one.

If she's already figure that out at age 5, what chance do I stand?

Death Cab for Cutie - Codes and Keys

Death Cab for Cutie
Codes and Keys

Remember The OC? You know, with Marissa Cooper’s self-destructive tendencies and Ryan Atwood’s endless insecurities about growing up in Chino? And who could forget Seth Cohen, the lovable hipster with a passion for comic books and Death Cab for Cutie?

A lot has changed for Death Cab since they made an onscreen appearance on The OC, playing a gig at the show’s fictitious club, the Bait Shop, in 2005. Back then, Death Cab was a band who had earned a Seth Cohen-esque fan base by touring endless in a pre-MP3 Blog world. But they were also a band in transition--counting down the days to their major label debut and clearly on the verge of something much bigger.

If you ask me, 2003’s ”Transatlanticism” was the band’s high-water mark. The songwriting was miles beyond its LP predecessors, yet the endearing roughness remained, like Ben Gibbard’s warbly tenor or the fuzzed-out studio experimentation. Not to mention that it included two of the best songs in the band’s catalog--the title track and the heartbreaking “A Lack of Color.”

After such a strong release, fans were poised to disdain their first big budget release, “Plans.” But it didn’t happen. It couldn’t happen. The looseness of early records had disappeared, but the songwriting was stronger than ever before and the production was painstakingly perfect.

Given all of the effort to make “Plans” a masterpiece, it’s not surprising that 2008’s “Narrow Stairs” headed in the opposite direction. Filled with rock ‘n roll abandon, it was a guitar album, fueled by some of the darkest lyrics Gibbard has ever written.

In 2011, things feel a bit more sunny in the Death Cab camp. Gibbard is now a married man and alcohol-free. Their new record, “Codes and Keys,” is the most upbeat in years. Beats skip along wistfully, like a band in love (“You are a Tourist”). At times, it’s all the Gibbard can do to not start dancing (“Some Boys”). Even tracks that are less immediate (“Doors Wide Open,” “Unobstructed Views”) still deliver a rewarding punch.

Much like “Transatlanticism,” “Codes and Keys” strikes a beautiful balance between traditional arrangements and studio embellishment; it would not be surprising to hear these songs played on an a piano or an acoustic guitar, but the layers of synths and noise give the tracks an added depth.

Somewhere, the writers of The OC are huddled together, trying to figure out how to bring the show back to life, just so Seth Cohen can tell the world how much he likes this record.

For fans of: Modest Mouse, Franz Ferdinand
Rating: 3.5 of 4

This is Week in Film: Curtis Edition

As usual, Curtis came home from the library yesterday with a stack of DVDs.

"Curtis, what movies did you get," I asked.

He stands at the top of the stairs and holds one DVD high above his head. It is impossible not to see the pride in his stance as he displays it.

I glance at the title, then read it aloud "Mighty Sanitation Machines?!"

"Garbage trucks," he replies.

The boy loves his garbage trucks.

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: