World’s Biggest Corporation

Weekly digestion, but first, Vic Chesnutt

“Weekly” is stretching it. Over the holidays, I gave myself as much of a break as I could from computers and even checking out new stuff. Consider this a catch-up edition.

I fear that over time, people will realize less and less what we lost when Vic Chesnutt died. I can name a lot of good songwriters going today, but not one whose music has been so beautifully crushing. Kristin Hersh’s website is taking donations for his family. I guess what upsets me the most is that when I interviewed him in October, he said that his song “Flirted With You All My Life” was “the song of a suicide’s realization that he wants to live.” Somehow, it seems appropriate to note that he also corrected my pronunciation of “Guy Picciotto.” Thanks, Vic!

I also saw him twice. The first time, he provided a gloomy opening set for a bunch of Jonathan Richman fans anxious to start singing along to “I Was Dancing In The Lesbian Bar.” The second time, on the awesome joint tour with Elf Power last year, he noted that, “though a bit precocious” (imagine a gently scolding grandma voice), the local opening band, Whatfor, had been his favorite support act of the tour so far.

OK, time to get on with it.

Charlie Louvin at New World Brewery, Ybor City, Dec. 20: Apparently, people in Florida need a heater for patio shows when it’s 60 degrees out. Hearing an 82-year-old country singer say things like, “If I weren’t up here slavin’ over this hot mic, I’d go out and catch me some beaver!” is the champagne of inappropriate.

The Magnetic Fields, Realism: The songs aren’t yet hitting me like they did on Distortion, but the production—think I’s uppity stepsister—throws just the kind of witty curveball I expect from anything Stephin Merritt does. Also, a pop record that uses the word “if’n”!

Helen Money, In Tune: A cellist metal fans embrace, but it reminds me more of a creepy, minimal Barbez.

Retribution Gospel Choir, 2: A.V. Club review going up when it comes out on the 26th. RGC’s first record didn’t do justice to how awesome they are live (one of my favorite bands to see), but this one really expands on the sound. Really, can’t go wrong with anything that involves Alan Sparhawk of Low.

Battlefields, Decapitado, and Wife, Jan. 13, The Frequency: I went back and forth on Battlefields’ recorded stuff—pretty metal can lose some of its punch on record—but they brought the ballsy loudness here. Decapitado features Dan Kubinski of Die Kreuzen on bass and vocals. He’s a super-friendly guy, as it turns out, and his high snarl goes well with the band’s noisy industrial-metal sound. Wife’s a new local band that has just a few songs and some really over-the-top Maiden/Priest-style vocals, which I suppose Madison could use some more of.

Bill Bryson, I’m A Stranger Here Myself: The laughs remind me of reading Dave Barry for the first time as a kid.

Corpse Bride: A Christmas present from my sister. It’s time to stop neglecting Tim Burton, yep.

Slayer, World Painted Blood: I’m glad I work with a guy who can appreciate me putting stuff like this on our office boombox.

Lightnin’ Hopkins compilation: “Let Me Play With Your Poodle,” and a woman who “walks just like she got oil wells in her backyard.” Why do I not listen to old acoustic blues every damn day?

…and plenty more, but those are my favorites lately. Expect more regular ramblings and a new clips site before long.

Weekly Digestion

Cave In, Perfect Pitch Black: This is like slipping into an alternate reality where modern-rock radio’s had all its crappy bits pulled out and replaced by heavy awesomeness and thoughtful songwriting.

CunninLynguists at High Noon Saloon, Dec. 4: Recapped this. Maybe the best live rap show I’ve seen yet.

Control at High Noon Saloon, Dec. 6: This is a newer local band. Though I feel like I’ve beaten myself (and probably my readers) over the head with lots of math-rock and post-punk stuff the last couple of years, this trio really tempers the Fugazi-worship with warm guitar tones that almost wouldn’t be out of place in a jazz setting, and rhythms that carry a hint of African and Caribbean music.

Sherman Alexie, The Absolutely True Diary Of A Part-Time Indian: My dad gave this to me, and apparently it’s a “young-adult” novel. I guess that explains the pacing—short sentences, never too much info at once. But it doesn’t spare us all the really weird, unpleasant shit about growing up, which is even more weird and unpleasant for the protagonist, a poor Spokane Indian kid who tries to make the jump to an off-reservation high school. Oh, and it’s punctuated with some awesome drawings.

Yob, The Great Cessation: Doom-metal that doesn’t drone so much as sizzle like fresh asphalt.

The State: All of it, for a forthcoming A.V. Club feature. Glad I finally watched all of The State, but don’t recommend watching it for more than, say, 3 hours at a time. “THE POPE-A WILL-A BE HERE ANY MINUTE!”

More Wire: I’m surprised at you, Detective Freamon! All along, you’re the sexually non-threatening uncle of the show, then you go off and get frisky with your young informant. “Flipped” her, indeed.

…and there’s more, but I won’t be focusing too hard on it until the pre-Xmas deadline rush is over.

Weekly Digestion

If you line up 12 Paulas, does the Thankspocalypse happen?

-Lots of re-digesting in preparation for The A.V. Club’s national best-of-music list and A.V. Club Madison local year-end music roundup.

-Amon Amarth, Versus The World: Recently re-issued by Metal Blade. “Death In Fire” is one of my favorite metal-album opening tracks.

-Kylesa, Static Tensions: Glad that I had a proper home-stereo sit-down with this one. I knew I’d basically love it when I heard the band’s two drummers converging on me from different sides of the room.

-BK-One, Rádio Do Canibal: Latin-inspired beats and playful guest verses from Rhymesayers and elsewhere.

-Paranormal Activity: Wow, that demon attack couldn’t have happened to a more tedious couple! Actually, it is very creepy.

-Paul F. Tompkins, Freak Wharf: I was there for one of the CD-recording shows, so I’m disappointed that it leaves out this one great bit (about New Yorkers who go out of town, only to constantly brag about what they could be doing back in “NEW YAAAWK!”). Still, almost as awesome as being there.

-The Wire, ongoing. First time I’ve ever heard the phrase “Throw a fuck into her.” Sounds festive, no? Is that some kind of Baltimore thing?

-Brother Ali, Barrymore Theatre, Nov. 19: Awesome, of course.

-Rust Belt Sermon, High Noon Saloon, Nov. 18: Sweet local post-hardcore band.

And other stuff I’ll deal with once I’ve written about it for AVC.