cuts me up

my first apartment... my first year out of college and out on my own. the new freedom of adulthood and post 21 status.

every friday night d and i got in the car around 1130 and left the drive of 750 dixie ave to drive the unlikeliest of neighborhoods for a club hosting a night of fused goth and britpop. but there we found ourselves, making our way to a shadowy spot just shy of where Roswell hits Peachtree and you enter the bright lights of Buckhead.

case in a black tshirt and jeans. me in something close to the same, but with cleavage.

straight to the less crowded bar on the left for something involving vodka. case to the dj booth to greet achille, me to the railing the emcompassed the dance floor to scope out my spot and maybe the black-haired boy who never would give me the time of day. oh, well. that isn't why i ma really here anyway.

maybe that friend of d's that was not yet my best friend would join us. maybe nee would head in later. or maybe my favorite dance partner would show up. it varied from friday to friday.

but one thing remained consistent. the night always reached its pinnacle when you heard peter murphy utter 22 of my (still) favorite words:

" i find you in the morning... after dreams of distant sights... you pour yourself over me... like the sun through the blinds..."

posts ago i wrote of how mr. murphy came to be known to me at an early age. and maybe of how i used to fantasize that i were old enough to hear this song in a setting not unlike the one i have started painting here...

(ironically, or perhaps not, bauhaus just came on the radio... i guess it is halloween...)

for four minutes and change every friday night i got to do exactly what a 12, 13 year old me had wanted so badly sitting in her room with 120 minutes on her little 12 inch screen and a copy of some Piers Anthony book on her nightstand half-heartedly started.

i am sure i looked a fool out there on that floor, swaying my arms like some siouxie sioux wannbe, wreaking havoc on my knees and twirling my then very long hair around at nee's request... but hell, i am sure we all did. my eyes were closed most of the time, so i honestly couldn't say for certain.

after that they could have proceeded to play ministry or smiths albums in their entirety or even michael jackson for all i cared. i still would have remained on that floor in a daze and kept maoving and shaking until the lights came on and we were ushered gently out the door, just as it ended every saturday at 3 am (or so...)

but damn those were lovely days... nights... mornings... something... and they resurface every time i hear "cuts you up."

i'll also take this moment to say my proper goodbyes to the vault. you died a slow, painful death, my dear, but in a location like that one, you knew it was inevitable. but it was good while it lasted, honey....

february 16, 2006

heidi said a little prayer. and the gods of britrock answered it.

supergrass in atlanta.

boo ya

a short love letter to andy sturmer

dear mr. sturmer,

while this letter is nearly a decade late, i nonetheless wish to let you know that i miss you. and i miss jellyfish.

(and i really miss jellyfish featuring jason falkner... but we'll save that for his love letter because he's got one seriously overdue too.)

in the awkward years known as my teens, a technocolor little mtv Buzz Bin nugget caught my eye and left a skittles-rainbow photogram on my heart. "that is why" is still one of my favorite songs and to this day its initial bass drum hit brings about the sensation of a quick, hard tug on my heartstrings.

the summer i turned 14 i was surprised one night by the local rock station when a playlist i submited was chosen for "the perfect album side." while the mix was something completely uncharacteristic of a jellyfish fan (i seem to recall the presence of ted nugent, shark island, and obscure drivin' n cryin')... i took my prize - a $50 gift certificate to Turtle's Records (now defunct) and made a bee-line for bellybutton.

my freshman year of high school then proceeded to all but revolve around that cassette, until the tape wore through and snapped. (picture: my dad, shaking his head, with the look of 'i told you to buy the cd, but no you had to balk at new technology...')

i remember singing the song, and i wanna stay home, to my boyfriend over the phone many a time. i was so in love with that record (ok, tape). i remember the inner quandry that surfaced as i cleaned my room, "what exactly is a bedspring kiss?"

i remember being thrilled that you guys were going to appear on letterman, and my sitting up anxiously, giggling furiously and knowingly when i got the inside joke that "every show i would just dedicate this song to... chris..." (chris manning's absence from the stage due to illness, i believe)

bellybutton beat out some of your own influences (another named andy as well in particular, may mr. partridge forgive me) for a coveted spot in my tiny lil mimi pod. that means i love you guys.

then came spilt milk. i anticipated being disappointed without jason's presence, but that didn't pan out. one listen to "joining a fan club" and all doubt vanished.

i was pleasantly surprised today when the accepted radio station at work accepted a request for "ghost at number one" and i was reminded that i was just missing you/wondering what you're up to not a few days ago.

everything jason's done since then has made it's way into my collection. and roger proves pretty easy to track. but you, mr. sturmer.... where are you?

always in possession of that rare talent (the decemberists got it, as did tmbg, and our beloved xtc) to make even the most glum or ugly story into a joyful or at the least lovely noise... i read recently you've been spending time on the other side of the studio. but you have an incredible gift of a unique voice and a mastery of lyrics not unlike to those boys from swindon. i miss its presence.

if you're out there somewhere and there's material i have simply missed, heaven help me find it. if there's not, please make some music.

you're missed.

love,
heidi

creepy

on my way to work this morning, forced to drive and bleary-eyed, paranoid android surfaced on the playlist just as i hit the interstate.

i almost hit the forward button, but was too curious to see how it panned out.

from the big atlanta news source...

Their geek-chic camp followers were the type to get delirious when they realized Meloy was going to close the show with “The Mariner’s Revenge,” a nine-minute song about whaling that ended in perfectly executed chaos. This was the kind of crowd that when Meloy introduced Moen as a narcoleptic, they knew what it meant.
(By Phil Kloer | Friday, September 30, 2005, 07:37 AM The Atlanta Journal-Constitution)

if this is what it is to be a decemberists fan... i am proud to be amongst...

i own a tshirt with a dirty panda on it now

notes from my date with a hussy and the new pornographers last night:

holy mother theramin!!!! these guys rock that thing bigger than the decemberists (and that's sayin' something)

i want to be neko case

ac newman's guitars look too small for him

the vocal combinations that exist in that band are the epitome of harmony... astounding

and i thought decemberists crowds were oddly mixed

i don't think i remember ever eating popcorn at a rock show before

tamborine sport is a great spectator sport

it is only too the credit of the new pornographers that i say the headache i arrived with was no worse by the time we exited the venue

what a lovely way to conclude a cold, dreary monday

i (heart) catherine wheel

as the verve plays in the background, i'd like to also say that i also (heart) richard ashcroft. dearly.

now onto my regularly scheduled post:

i recently caught a bit of rob dickinson's new solo stuff... in the last couple of days, in fact... and in the spirit of not being the girl from my blur/gorillaz post not long ago, i was quite excited to finally hear a bit of it. not bad. not catherine wheel, but i am certainly willing to give it the chance to grow on me and do intend to purchase it.

this of course got cw on the brain and apparently my ipod is synced to whichever lobe these thoughts were borne, because suddnely the shuffle was hitting "chrome" or "ferment" every third song or so. as i headed to the station after work yesterday, the track that started my love affair with these boys popped up, and i was momentarily transposed...

high school was by no means a highlight in my existence thus far. i am sure this has been established. it was ok. i had good friends, i made good grades, i had great relationships (get your mind outta the gutter) with my teachers and my parents and all that good stuff... but ultimately i was aware that there was something beyond the confines of dawson county's borders that i was missing out on and everything i achieved was done so in pursuit of my goal to escape and find out what all that was about.

and a lot of that started with two things... two songs, actually. one called sober - tool to be addressed at a later date - and one titled CRANK.

in the early days of WNNX - when it truly did play alternative music and "alternative" was not yet the contradictory term commercial radio has manipulated it into - i did my research on the world outside there in the wee hours of the morn along with my sundays at midnight with mtv's 120 minutes (when sweet little dave kendall? was that his name? was the host...)

vividly i recall lying in bed, not bothering to battle the slight insomnia and taking in the late night rotation. that's when they generally pulled out the super-alternative (for the time anyway, we all know tool's a household name these days and back then no one had heard gish yet). somehow - like clockwork- between 3 and 3:20 am the dj on duty, god bless her (i think it was yvonne or jill, but i could be mistaken), would inevitably play it. and every night i would lie there and wait for it.

it was so dark and so sexy. that man's voice evoked in me that could only come with new womanhood... tingles at the base of my spine and what i can only describe as a mild, pleasant vertigo. akin to a mid-night seduction, i awaited my dose of catherine wheel with half-sleep and once our time was up, i curled up under the covers basking in some bizarre auditory afterglow.

up to that point, it was the only thing i knew of them. it and it's accompanying spot on 120, with rob's insane blue eyes and almost naked torso (poet shirt maybe? that may be where i got my silly fascination with those things, quickly extinguished with my first visit to dragon con) and the band frolicking about in elevators and what i think were fancy hotel lobbies

i once referred to the song dramamine by modest mouse as what it feels like when i am coming down from my e peak. crank is its antithesis.... it like the ascension whether that e is in synthetic form or au natural (and produced from the feeling of fingertips on my flesh that are not necessarily my own...)

(side note: it also thrilled me to learn that rob dickinson is the nephew of bruce... i f you know me, you know that's a total understatement. but i guess maybe i shoulda put it together that two bands named after medieval torture devices probably had to be related somehow, right?)

dear mr wedding dj

a russian i love is marrying me this december. the anti-wedding wedding should be a blast, and to insure so, i have put three of my favorite people in charge of the evening's music playlists.

d requested a list of do's and don'ts to insure my big day contained no three-to-four-minute disappointments. my response is as follows:

OK- so i thought to myself, the “no” list should be short, cause these kids will know better. Nevertheless, it ended up like this:

NO

How Soon is Now? (sick of it)

Coldplay in any form

Rolling Stones unless it’s Mothers Little Helper

found easily on a 99x playlist

bright eyes

killers

Christmas-related music of any kind

songs associated with other relationships: New Year’s Day by u2, any Oasis, Smashing pumpkins, speed metal

Hey Mickey or Come on Eileen (unless it’s the Badly Drawn Boy cover)

Bon Jovi

cheesy love longs not specifically requested on my YES list/sung by Bjork, Colin Meloy, or Ben Gibbard or a Beatle

heavy metal no matter what ilya says (hair metal is permitted w/ heidi approval)

country music

R&B

Aerosmith

rap (Gorillaz and other good stuff excluded)

showtunes

Gwen Stefani

Britney or Christina or anyone either have had sex with

anyone featured in Teen Beat

Blue Monday (there exist so many better New Order songs)

song ever featured in an iPod commercial or on TRL

songs lasting more than 7 minutes unless they are by nEw Order

u2/whitney houston mash-ups

greenday

to this case reponded: "damn, that's a good list."

why i love internet radio

stuck on the nightshift, just me and internet radio. here's why i love the britpop station:

-bliss by muse (the best muse song in my humble opinion)
-the universal by blur (beautiful even if everyone dogs that album)
-placebo's cover of where is my mind? (orig by the pixies)
-suede. enough said.
-feeder (can't remember the title) who always make me feel like i am in a hostle somewhere in england, even when i am at my desk in atlanta
-starsailor x 3
-true faith by new order not once, but twice (one of the two most underrated bands of all great britain, along with catherine wheel)
-za by my beloved music-blog namesakes (from an album stealthily trying to takeover as my fave)
-the verve (i'll take richard ashcroft in any form i can get him)
-turin brakes (discovered on internet radio... a secret treasure)
-




all in the span of 2 hours.

johns

listening to They Might Be Giants just now, i was reminded of a bit from the "Gigantic..." film where someone (sorry that i can't place who) said they felt sorry for those guys because since they are TMBG, they can never really know/experience how great TMBG are.

me too.

dek a bree stee

last thursday with my hussy...

the decemberists are always amazing live and there are few words to justify the experience, but i'll try

i felt like a gramma hipster...

i continue to insist colin meloy is in love with the following vocabular units: sinew, wretch
(while his friend mr. gibbard i notice of late favors the word synapse)

he also looks like popeye when he sings

drummers continue to fascinate me - especially when they can play the bass drum with a mallet and the tamborine simultaneously

jeff lynne would have been proud of the cover of "mr. blue sky"

hooray for the resurfacing of the soldier tshirt!!!!