Better Late Than Never #1 – Andrew Bird’s Noble Beast

Better Late than Never is a new feature where I write what I think about albums and/or tracks. Considering I don’t update often, and when I do, I write about other important stuff (like hamburgers), I will likely be reviewing albums and songs many months after they come out. These reviews will likely come out well after you have purchased or illegally downloaded the album, listened to it multiple times, and formed an opinion about it, so these reviews will be of no utility to you. Why you’re reading them, I don’t know. It’s your time to waste.

Noble Beast is the follow-up to Andrew Bird’s last album Armchair Apocrypha, a very good album in its own right. Fortunately,  Noble Beast proves to be another great folk-influenced indie rock effort from Bird.

One of Bird’s hallmarks is finding rich melodies and harmonies within a simple basic chord progression. Violin, guitar, and whistling embellishments over a simple chord progression characterize Noble Beast, resulting in complex, catchy songs. Album opener “Oh No” best characterizes this in its first minute; violin swells over a two-chord, plucked acoustic guitar progression at first, then the violins give way to Bird’s whistling.

Many standout tracks appear. “Anonanimal” surprises with its unconventional structure and tongue-twisting lyrics. The lyrics should not be too much of a surprise for people who have followed Bird’s career. In most instances, it seems he focuses on how the words sound rather than what they mean. “Tenuousness” features a plucked, distorted electric violin and a tempo that soldiers on. “Souverian” carries forward simply and elegantly while Bird laments that “though thrushes sing/still my lover won’t return to me,” a rare moment of comprehensibility in Bird’s lyrics. The song then codas into a rich instrumental, sounding like something from The Soft Bulletin.

Only a couple tracks seem to “Effigy,” while a solid song by itself, slows the album down too much, especially after the energy of “Fitz and the Dizzyspells.” “Nomenclature” seems to lull for the majority of the song. Even the closing swell seems forced.

However, even Noble Beast’s worst is far and away better than many artists’ best work. While some people may be put off by some of Bird’s quirks (particularly the lyrics), those people would be missing out on a very good indie/folk record.

When Robots Attack

Ah, the wilderness. Camping and hiking in the woods is a favorite pasttime of mine. Not as good as, say, playing video games or sitting down, but still up there. On my list, it’s in between playing basketball and staring at the sun (my personal record is 18 seconds before my eyes start to burn).

While camping in your favorite national park is indeed fun, there are some things you have to look out for. Take proper care of any campfires you make. Watch out for bears. Bring bug spray. But most of all, take all necessary precautions in the event you encounter wild robots.

Robots in the wild differ greatly from their domesticated counterparts. While years of training have tempered domesticated robots’ hatred of humans, wild robots are just as hostile to people as they were hundreds, thousands of years ago. There have been multiple cases in the last year alone of wild robot attacks. Many are fatal.

Of course, municipalities and national parks have done their best to keep feral robots away from natural areas, but no place is completely secure. Given the current economic crisis, national parks can no longer emit electromagnetic pulses as often as they used to. However, there are a few easy steps you can take to keep yourself safe from a wild robot attack.

1) Be Alert. If you are like many people, you may become so engrossed in the natural ambiance of your surroundings–birds chirping, the wind rustling through the leaves–that you completely miss the metallic-sounding “DESTROY ALL HUMANS” in the distance. Enjoy nature, but be observant.

2) Avoid Confrontation. Under no circumstances should you try to attract a wild robot’s attention. Even the strongest man has no chance against a robot’s inhuman strength. If you hear or see a robot in the distance, proceed away from the robot as quickly and quietly as you can.

3) Arm Yourself. You should make sure you are properly armed whenever you visit a location that has a high wild robot population. While many weapons are only available to licensed robot hunters (contact your state’s wildlife and gaming commission for details), there is still a variety of laser pistols, explosives, and localized electronics scrambling devices available to the general consumer.

4) Do Not Climb A Tree To Escape A Robot. While it is common knowledge that robots can not climb trees (with the obvious exception of the now-domesticated Tree Climber Bot 5000), it is not the wisest choice in escaping certain death. Many wild robots are equipped with lasers, and can aim them with pinpoint accuracy. A few robots may even be powerful enough to simply knock the tree over, sending you tumbling as well! Unless you inflict significant damage to the wild robot’s solar power cells, it will wait indefinitely for you to tire and fall out of the tree.

5) Use Logic Traps. Try to propose a logical puzzle from which the robot will not recover. You may have to think quickly, which may be difficult to do in a crisis situation. For example, you could say to a robot, “You are programmed to destroy all humans. You are also attempting to beat me with the human arm you just tore from my body. Since you are using a human weapon, therefore you are partially human. Since you are programmed to destroy all humans, you must destroy yourself.” Use your quick, human wit to overcome a robot’s cold, hard logic.

I have only provided a few tips here which I’ve gained from my own experience. Of course, there are several more tips out there from other seasoned veterans. Please provide your own tips in the comments section. Every life lost to a wild robot attack is one life too many.

Next!

I have no idea what happened to the previous two years. In between stacks of journal articles, making sense of complex (and often convoluted) research, feelings of overwhelming dread and panic writing papers late into the night, and piecing together what would eventually become my thesis, it was easy to lose track of time. Along with the demands of teaching public speaking, I always had plenty to do. Looking at my ‘to do’ list was always a soul-crushing experience.

Not that there wasn’t any fun had along the way. Me and the other grad students in the communication department bonded because of the plain and simple fact that we all faced the same gargantuan tasks. Instead of the unhealthy competitiveness one hears about going on in other graduate programs, we all propped each other up. We were a team of extraordinary people, united to accomplish the common good (like the Justice League).

Now, it’s almost over. In two days I will defend my master’s thesis, and pending my committee’s approval, I’ll earn my master’s degree and move on to the next chapter of my life. It’s difficult to imagine myself finally leaving Blacksburg. I’ve lived here for six years; four years for undergrad, then a year-long intermission, then finally two years for grad school. I’ll certainly miss this town, and I hope to come visit often.

So about what’s next…you know that first part of this post about how stressful graduate school is? The anguish? The despair? The nights when you run on coffee and/or Red Bull to get that paper just right? Well, I must be a glutton for punishment. I’ve decided to pursue my Ph.D. in communication at the University of Florida. I’ll be moving there later this summer (speaking of which, anyone have a room to rent in Gainesville?).

So that’s where I’m headed next. It’s been fun, Blacksburg, but it’s time for me to move on.

The Voice of Reason

Recently, two of my dumbest colleagues (G.I. Joe and Lord Nerdington the Third) have debated the merits and drawbacks of crossword puzzles and sudoku.  Relatively Journalizing seems to think crosswords are superior, while NUFAH has given sudoku its endorsement.

Not that theirs is a ringing endorsement.  Both Josh and Alex put the “F. U” in “fun;” the “bad man” in “show us on the doll where the bad man touched you.”

It’s time for the most important voice in this debate to be heard: me.  However, it’s important for me to establish some ethical ground rules for myself, which hopefully Josh and Alex will abide by as well.  

I promise I will not resort to ad hominem attacks in my debate with these two assholes.  Nor will I resort to distorting facts and blowing things out of proportion.  I know we will have a productive, intelligent conversation.

…

Who plays games with paper and pencil anymore?  Two groups still do, ignoring all the advances in technology we’ve made.  The first group is D & D nerds.  They choose to use their ‘imagination’ with their own ‘brains, usually in the comforts of their mothers’ basement. This is a terribly inefficient use of cognitive resources, which you will see later. 

The second group?  Crossworders and Sudoku-jerks.  These people are the scum of the earth.  Paper and pencil?  Words and numbers?  Please.  We have made incredible advances in gaming technology.  We can virtually travel through realistic, beautifully rendered, three-dimensional worlds.  We can save the world, or choose to destroy it.  We can perform a  Chocolate-Thunder-Flying, Robinzine-Crying, Teeth-Shaking, Glass-Breaking, Rump-Roasting, Bun-Toasting, Wham-Bam, Glass-Breaker-I-Am-Jam, or push it back out for a wide-open three.

Before, the only limit to our imaginations was grim, harsh reality.  We couldn’t really do all the things we wish we could do.  But now, through the science (and perhaps, magic) of video games, we can make our imaginations come to life.  We no longer have to waste precious brain power for recreational purposes.  We can devote the cognitive resources we free up through video games to solving more pressing global issues.

Of course, fun isn’t free.  You must have a television, a gaming console or computer, and gaming software, which can add up to a lot of cash.  Quite frankly though, if you don’t have money, you don’t deserve to have fun.  Only poor people think crosswords and sudoku could possibly be fun.  It’s a proven fact that I’ve said a lack of money leads to smaller brain mass and lower cognitive abilities.  Also, I hate poor people, and you should too.

As a final point, do you play crosswords and sudoku?  No, you would sound stupid if you said that.  First, because you imply you like those “games.”  Second, because you don’t play crosswords and sudoku.  You solve crosswords and sudoku.  How can those even be called games if you can’t play them?

So do you want to believe Alex and Josh, go to their decrepit cardboard box homes under the bridge,  be stupid, and solve crossword and sudoku puzzles all day?  Or do you want to embrace the future, plop down some dough, and play the latest, greatest, games ever made: video games?  I think you know the answer.

(For any poor people who know how to read and somehow got access to a computer and aren’t quite smart enough to figure out the answer, the answer is video games.)

My Top 100 Songs (at the moment)

For no reason whatsoever, I decided to put a list of my 100 favorite songs on here.  There were several problems, however.

Every time I sat down to make the list, scrolling through my music library, I would inevitably come up with a list of about 4 or 500 songs.  In addition, new music would come out all the time, with potential adds to the list.

Finally, I had to sit down and say enough is enough.  What are the songs that I would listen to every time they were played?  Even then, this list isn’t perfect.  It’s tainted by the biases of the present: what am I into now?  Sometimes everything must rock, other times everything must be introspective, and so on and so forth.  Everything on this list is subject to change, probably as soon as five minutes after I post it.

This list is also personally biased toward indie/hipster rock.  That’s just most of what I like.  Regardless, feel free to leave comments: praise inclusions, act bewildered over exclusions, be boggled over inclusions, suggest your own.

Here we go.  Evan’s top 100 songs at this very moment:

Andrew Bird – Heretics
Animal Collective – Fireworks
Arcade Fire – Rebellion(Lies)
Beastie Boys – Sabotage
Bebel Gilberto – Samba e Amor
Beck – Lost Cause
Beck – Tropicalia
Belle and Sebastien – Piazza, New York Catcher
Black Sabbath – War Pigs
Blackalicious – Brain Washers
Bob Dylan – Simple Twist of Fate
Bob Marley – Buffalo Soldier
Brazilian Girls – Sweatshop
Brian Wilson – Heroes and Villains
Broadcast – Corporeal
Broken Social Scene – Lover’s Spit
Built to Spill – Untrustable, Pt. 2
Caetano Veloso – You Don’t Know Me
Cat Power – I Don’t Blame You
Constantines – On to You
David Bowie – Queen Bitch
Death Cab for Cutie – Company Calls
Decemberists – Of Angels and Angles
Dick Dale – Miserlou
Dinosaur, Jr. – Freak Scene
Dismemberment Plan – That’s When the Party Started
Dismemberment Plan – The Face of the Earth
Do Make Say Think – The Universe!
Ella Fitzgerald – Prelude to a Kiss
Elliot Smith – Ballad of Big Nothing
Flaming Lips – Do You Realize??
Foo Fighters – Times Like These
Fugazi – Give Me the Cure
Gal Costa – Vou Recomecar
Guided By Voices – Game of Pricks
Jamie Lidell – Another Day
Jeff Buckley – Hallelujah
Jimi Hendrix – All Along the Watchtower
Jimi Hendrix – Voodoo Child
Joanna Newsom – Emily
LCD Soundsystem – All My Friends
Joy Division – She’s Lost Control
M. Ward – Chinese Translation
M.I.A. – Paper Planes
Magnetic Fields – I Don’t Believe You
Marvin Gaye – Sexual Healing
Modest Mouse – Third Planet
Modest Mouse – Wild Packs of Family Dogs
My Bloody Valentine – Sometimes
Neil Young – Hey Hey, My My
Neko Case – The Needle Has Landed
Neutral Milk Hotel – In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Nirvana – All Apologies
Os Mutantes – Baby
Otis Redding – (Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay
Pavement – Cut Your Hair
Pearl Jam – Elderly Woman Behind the Counter In A Small Town
Pearl Jam – Who You Are
Pearl Jam – Wishlist
Pink Floyd – Wish You Were Here
Pixies – Mr. Grieves
Portastatic – Song for a Clock
Portishead – The Rip
Prince – Darling Nikki
Q and not U – Book of Flags
Queens of the Stone Age – God is in the Radio
Radiohead – Idioteque
Radiohead – Karma Police
Radiohead – Morning Bell
Radiohead – Reckoner
R.E.M. – It’s the End of the World As We Know It
Sleater-Kinney – You’re No Rock and Roll Fun
Sonic Youth – Dirty Boots
Sonic Youth – Teenage Riot
Sonic Youth – Dripping Dream
Spoon – You Got Yr Cherry Bomb
Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks – 1% of One
Sublime – We’re Only Gonna Die For Our Own Arrogance
Sufjan Stevens – Casimir Pulaski Day
Superchunk – 1000 Pounds
Superchunk – Driveway to Driveway
Ted Leo and the Pharmacists – The Ballad of the Sin Eater
The Beatles – A Day in the Life
The Beatles – Helter Skelter
The Beatles – Revolution
The Clash – The Guns of Brixton
The Go! Team – Junior Kickstart
The New Pornographers – Execution Day
The Ramones – Blitzkrieg Bop
The Rolling Stones – Sympathy for the Devil
The Talking Heads – Once in a Lifetime
The Who – My Generation
Thin Lizzy – Jailbreak
TV on the Radio – Lover’s Day
TV on the Radio – Staring at the Sun
Vampire Weekend – Cape Cod Kwassa Kwassa
Weezer – Surf Wax America
Wilco – I’m Always in Love
Wilco – Poor Places
Wilco – The Late Greats

Tell me what you think.

The Coldest Night in Blacksburg, Part 2, by my undead zombie self

Brains.  Braiiiiiiiiiins.  Brains brains brains.  Brains brains brains, brains brains brains.

BRAINS?! BRAINS!!!

Braaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiins.  B-R-A-I-N-S, BRAINS!  Brains brains brains brains, brains.  Brains?  Brains?  Brains.  Brains brains brains brains.

“Brains, brains brains brains brains?”

“Brains.”

Brains, brains, brains brains brains brains brains.

Brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains brains.

Brains.

The Coldest Night In Blacksburg

When I wake up in the morning, it is always a little chilly.  My room is colder than all the other rooms in the house, and I expect that.  Sunday morning, nursing a slight hangover, I woke up and saw my breath.

My breath?!  What the hell?  I put on my hoodie and crawled back into bed.  I was too lazy to check the thermostat, so I bundled up, got some extra blankets, and went back to sleep.  Not for long though.  I woke up again, colder than I was before.  What’s going on?

The roommates were away doing whatever.  I checked the thermostat.  It was as low as it could go, 50 degrees, but it felt even colder than that.  The heat, unfortunately, was turned on.  Whatevs, a circuit breaker must have tripped, I thought.  I checked the switch.  Nothing.  My household heat had gone away, leaving me to deal with the cold, cruel Blacksburg winter.

I immediately thought of my roommates.  They were gone.  No notes.  Nothing.  Had they done the unthinkable?  Had they abandoned me in the middle of winter, shutting off the heat in the house as a cruel, final prank?  I called one of them.  I had to know.

“Hey Evan, what’s up?”

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!  IT’S FUCKING FREEZING IN HERE! MAKE THE HEAT COME BACK!!!”

“What?”

“PICO IS CRYING BECAUSE IT’S TOO COLD!  MAKE THE HEAT TURN BACK ON!”

(Pico is my roommate’s cat.  She probably wasn’t concerned about the cold.   She also wasn’t crying, but was meowing constantly and annoyingly.  She was probably just hungry.)

“Calm down, just check the thermostat and if that doesn’t work, call the-”

I hung up the phone.  Of course, my roommate was panicking and couldn’t calm herself down to deal with this tragedy logically and effectively.  I would have to take matters into my own hands.

The first thing I would need to survive the cold, harsh Blacksburg winter in a house with no heat was a steady supply of food.  Freezing, I’m okay with; starving, however, is completely beneath me and I would have none of that nonsense.  I looked around.  I saw Pico sitting there, staring at me, and meowing.  I’ve briefly considered the cat as an emergency supply of nutrition before.  Now, it seemed like this hypothetical situation would turn into a reality.

But then I realized I had plenty of Ramen noodles and Chef Boyardee in the kitchen.  I could live off that for a while.  Pico, you’re safe for now.  Looking back, I could never cook you and eat you Pico.  You’re always the first one at the door when I come home, meowing your approval of my existence.  Me and my reliable, trustworthy, mentally-challenged feline friend would have to survive the winter together.

I sent Pico to look for firewood, but she insisted on getting strung out on catnip first.  Drugs have been an ongoing problem for Pico, and I really hope that by me making this public, she will finally get some help.  In the meantime, I would have to find firewood and kindling myself.  I found a bunch of wood outside, and some papers with words on them in a drawer in the kitchen.  I gathered the wood and kindling in a pile on the living room floor as I held a piece of paper in my hand, ready to light it with a match.  Before I could, I received a text from my roommate.

‘Call the realtor for emergency maintenance.  Number’s on the lease.’

The lease!  Of course!  I looked at the piece of paper in my hand, finding various clauses about rental terms as well as someone’s signature that looked uncannily like mine.  My signature!  This must be the lease!

I called for maintenance, and someone came promptly.  He asked what the deal was with the pile of sticks.

“Nothing.”

Unfortunately, after working at it for a while, he announced that he needed a part he would have to order.  He left me with three small space heaters and bade me farewell.  He would return the next day.  In the meantime, my roommates, Pico, and I would have to survive the long cold night ahead…

…

Will I survive the coldest night in Blacksburg with no heat?  You’ll have to wait until I write the next post to find out!  Or, uh, if my ghost or undead zombie self writes the next post.  Stay tuned!

Home Security

I just realized I live in a less well-traveled part of town.  The roads are narrow and winding.  The night sky is black, illuminated only by a multitude of stars when the clouds are away.  No streetlights here.  This also means that I and my roommates are prime targets for a break-in.  It’s time we talked about home security.

Fortunately for us, I’ve outlined a plan to keep ourselves and our possessions safe from burglars, degenerates, and unsavory mountain people.  First, each of us will immediately purchase and train with a jo staff.  As my friend and colleague from Relatively Journalizing points out, a jo staff is “a shorter version of a bo staff, used instead for its similarities to a sword and its excellent disarming capabilities.”  He should know: he once fought and defeated an army of ninjas using only a jo staff, but that’s another story for another time.  If it’s good enough for Josh, it’s good enough for me.

Second, I shall train an army.  An army of these:No potential burglar would ever dare attempt to set foot in my house with 50 or so of those bad boys on patrol.

(Pic is from CollegeHumor)

I’ve Got Big Plans

My friend at No Use For A Headline has set a few goals for himself – 101 goals, actually.  These goals are of the self-improvement variety (mostly).  He must complete these 101 goals in 1001 days.  After the 1001 days are up, we can presume that he will be a greater person because of it.

I’ve decided that I’m also going to do something like that.  However, unlike my lazy, clearly unambitious friend, I’m going to set 101 goals in 1000 days.  Only chumps need an additional 24 hours to accomplish 101 goals.

Here’s a sampling of what I intend to accomplish over the next 1000 days (not 1001, because I’m better than that):

-Goal #39: Go to Taco Bell.
-Goal #11: Sleep for a full 24 hours.
-Goal #75: Go a full hour without saying “fuck” (a more difficult goal than you realize, considering I have a thesis to write.)
-Goal #79: Wake up before noon on a Saturday.
-Goal #23: Do laundry.
-Goal #88: Think of more goals.
-Goal #89: And write those goals down.

As you can see, I have my work cut out for me!  Actually, stay tuned.  I’m gonna do this 101 in 1000 (not 1001) for realz.

There Can Only Be One

Someone has crossed me.  I have never been so offended, infuriated, and angry in my life.  How dare this person do this to me: Evan Serge!  This person’s very existence gets me rattled.  What happened, and who did it to you, you may be asking yourself.  Well, yourself, let me tell you why I am so angry, and let me  reveal the identity of this monster of a human being.

The person responsible is Evan Serge.

I had typed “Evan Serge” in to Google for the fifth time that day (like everyone does) to see how far my web presence had spread, when I noticed something new.  I clicked on the link, the browser going to some South Dakota hospital’s website.  That’s when I saw him.

Evan Serge, born November 21, 2008.  How dare he steal my name!  How dare he be born close to my birthday!  What kind of jerk does this kid think he is?  I mean, look at the little booger.  Note especially the way his eyes say, “I am the real Evan Serge!”:

Lies!  There can only be one Evan Serge, and that Evan Serge is me: Evan Serge!  Don’t let that adorable little face fool you; by his very existence, this boy is infringing on my greatness.  When he has grown to full-size, he may even challenge me to a duel to the death, to decide who gets to carry on the mantle of Evan Serge!  I have no doubt that I would emerge the victor in battles of both brawn and wit.  However, I prefer to deal with this jerk immediately rather than give him an inkling of a chance to defeat me.

No, I’m not planning on going to South Dakota to beat the shit out of a little baby; sorry to disappoint. I thought of something else that’s not quite as evil.  In five years, I could take a visit to young “Evan” and introduce myself to him.  I’ll reveal that I am his future self who has traveled into the past!  I’ll tell him that the future is a terrible place, but with his help, we can make it better.  I’ll tell him that in order to keep a terrible future from coming to pass, he must do everything I say.  I’ll then train him to be weak and stupid, and I’ll also train him to make nachos for me on command.  Finally, I will tell him that he must change his name.  If he asks why, I’ll make up something about the future.  It will probably involve giant robots with lasers.

Threat = neutralized.