2009's been a pretty interesting ride. it started off hellaciously bumpy and bleak, but i gotta say it's ending in a super rad way. last year at this time i was a broken mess. completely fake on the outside, miserable on the inside - just rotting and pining, waiting for some shed of happiness or reintroduction to the jodi i had lost 4 years prior. well - it may have taken me a year to find her, but i'm back, kids. and i gots to say, i haven't been smiling like this in yeeeeyers.
best of 09:
dara benno - the bestest girly in the werld
ashley meeker - baby meeks, keepin it real
angel pelipada - holler at yer boi
drew burns - my future hubby, duh
juliet tarantino - probz the sweetest person everrrr
nicole hensch - girl's got love for the juggalos
these mutha fuckas my homies. they'z others too, but in all reality, i met all my friends this year (with exception of carol & court knee who be keepin it real since 07 even when i sucked and was a soulless droid zombie who just wasted away, depressed and locked up as a homebody). i forgot that sometimes time with yourself, as much as it rules and is necessary it can go bad too - and this year i yinned that yang noise out and met my homiez. it's good shit.
i also saw a lot of good music. went on some trips. saw old friends. thought about shit. tried to get back in the writing swing of things. realized that all isn't over if a day goes not as planned. stepped back. got a cat skull tattoo. regained my independence. pretty fantastic, really.
2010 is going to rule.
i will get a new job (or at least a new attitude about my current gig so i dont feel so pegged down).
i will remain optimistic.
i will continue to laugh. (and smile).
i will continue to pursue new music.
i will work on my writing in new outlets.
maybe even take a swing at this rap game.
i will learn new things.
meet new people.
go on some trips.
i will let my guard down.
i will have more dance parties.
i will appreciate all that is well.
i will spend time with my friends, and (hopefully) this new boy.
36 hours, 9 minutes. then this shit will be bananas. can you hear it?
git ready, bitches.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 14, 2009
Top Shows of 09
What a rollercoaster year 2009 has proven itself to be, both musically and of the reality sort. So much has (and hasn't) happened. I still haven't found that cashmoney career or dreamboat hunky boyfriend, but I did sure meet a lot of new radical people and have finally landed my tight crew of homiez, got to travel, embrace my inner cat womanness and tap into my hidden hip hop talents. Oh yeah, I also caught a shit ton of new music - both live and hidden in the midst of the blogosphere.
So while I've already battled myself off and on for top albums of 09, (which has probably already flip flopped since I last scribbled it down), I'm pretty sure I can brainstorm some pretty concrete radical live music experiences. I'm going to just start free rambling, consecutive order's for squares with nothing better to do than alphabetizing their cd collection. . . But here it is. . .
Muzzle of Bees Review
This may be the only concert I remember the precise calendar date and that's because it's the day I was born, g's. I may have only been able to drag one pal with me, but this show was seriously one of the most memorable shows I've seen in my lifetime. Karen O screeched, growled, shimmied and shook. She seduced us all with her riot girl antics, lively strut action and incredible musicianship. With Brian Chase and Nick Zinner backing her up, there was no doubt heads rolled. Tracks from Fever to Tell, Show Your Bones and of course, Its Blitz! were accounted for - highlights included raw oldie "Art Star," the acoustic singalong "Maps," the dancetastic seizure anthem "Zero," "Cheated Hearts" (hearing this 2 days after getting "Bigger than the Sound" inked on my shoulder blade def ruled), and several others. So good, so so so good. I heart Karen O. She gave me the best birthday present any kid could ask for.
Muzzle of Bees Review
Ummmmm. You guys know I like Kanye, right? If not, you must have mistakenly stumbled onto this blog having no idea who the hell I am. I still proudly sport my Kanye shades t-shirt, post Taylor Swift, whatever. I love this dude. He created one of the top albums of the decade (Jodi's countdown soon to follow, in my head "The College Dropout" is currently battling 2/3 rank between the Postal Service's "Give Up"). All love aside, I proudly made the journey to the dusty Fader Fort tent in Austin this past March solo, with friends more encouraged by the depths of Scandonavian heavy metal and sensitive indie pop flavors. I didn't know if I'd get in or if Ye was even definitely showing up or not, but per the rumor mill, Ye would indeed be the special guest showcasing Good Music, and that he did. It was a collaborative effort, and he gave his fellow proteges just as much time to shine in the limelight as he gave himself, offering the crowd what they really wanted. I got to see Common/Erykah Badu duet There is a Light. I got to see Kid Cudi back up Ye on Welcome to Heartbreak, and then Cudi strut to the Crookers' remix of Day N Nite. I got to see (multiple!) College Dropout tracks - Spaceship. Get Em High. 808 tracks, Love Lockdown tore that shit up. I was standing directly beside, dancing elbow to elbow with YACHT. I mean, how fresh is that? I met new peeps and danced my fucking ass off. I remember walking out of that tent feeling more exhilirated and high on adrenaline from such an amazing show that words couldn't do justice to what I had just experienced - pure positivity. An amazing night, one not to be forgotten. I'm still smiling ear to ear thinking about what went down in that dirty ass tent, while I caught Ye at Lolla in 08, that performance didn't come close to SXSW. Incredible.
5 Questions with YACHT
Muzzle of Bees Review
While I caught YACHT months later at the Empty Bottle and missed a 3rd shot at NYC by minutes, Schuba's was still the illest night of all. Having little knowledge of the electronic now duo outfit, I was familiar with their background and DFA affiliation, realized they were dope with labelmates LCD Soundsystem and had spun The Summer Song a handful of times in efforts of familiarizing myself with their content pre-show. A friend from Madison had come to the city and this seemed like the ideal meet up. Dancing out my ears. The audiovisual backdrop, illuminated with various artsy graphics, triangles, contrast of light/darkness and wicked ass dance moves courtesy of Jonah and Claire got the small, intimate, yet intensely lively crowd doin' tha stanky leg. (Literally, this was my first exposure to that horrendous track, yet thanks to the duo's smiling, ironic dance interpretation, I can't help but feel fondly towards this obscenity.) This show was only a preview of one of my top albums of 09, "See Mystery Lights," and I again, walked away from this set, forever grateful for checking it out. I also bought my first t-shirt from a merch stand since probably freshman year of college, just to introduce myself to Claire and Jonah and to thank them for such a kickass night. Seriously do yourself a favor and never pass up a chance to check this duo, I hear they're about to hit the road with Bobby Birdman soon. . .
Muzzle of Bees Review
This show I think may have more sentimental memories than performance wise, and that's because it happened to be the first time I hung out with Dara. Thanks to a creepy dude who all but chased me out of Club Foot, I stumbled upon my new bff and loudly (drunkenly) commented on her fake gecko tattoo and haircut. Slurring out, "Hay do you like Metric?" (She did), I found my plus one to take my extra comped ticket off my hands and together we bonded over the likes of "Monster Hospital," "Help I'm Alive," "Soft Rockstar," "Twilight Galaxy" and several others. We danced like the V.I.P. princesses we is and the only hotter lady in the house was of course, Miss Emily Haines. One of the most enjoyable evenings I recollect in Chicago, and a real damned treat to find new friendships.
Muzzle of Bees Review
The timeline for this particular set is foggy, although I'm 99% certain it was post Never Better's release but pre-SXSW. I couldn't find any fellow Rhymesayers/Doomtree fans to join me on my long, frightening journey to the southside, but it didn't matter. Another one of my fave releases of 09, I knew from past experience that Stef is one helluva performer and this set just blew me away. It certainly didn't help that fellow Doomtree partners in crime, Mike Mictlan, Sims and Lazerbeak were backing P.O.S. up, but overall the live energy and positive vibes, combined with some independent hip hop was just one hell of a night. Hearing the pulsing, immediate beats of "Goodbye" and "Drumsticks" rocked my face off and was totally worth nearly getting stabbed and molested on the redline back post midnight. Next time, though, I may wait with the rest of the crowd before manning the subway back solo. . . I caught P.O.S. two more times this past year, once at Rhymesayers' SXSW tent, prior to Brother Ali post Eyedea and Abilities and I swear he gave me a look and a wave as he saw me side stage, getting the fuck down in line for the never ending porta potty lines, although that may have been merely wishful thinking. . . Seeing him open up for Cursive at the Bottom Lounge was a total trip, though, and maybe not his ideal demographic, "How many of you are at your first rap show?" (2/3rds of the hands go up in unison. . . )
Muzzle of Bees Review
Owen Pallett is my dream boat. I am in lurv. He is playing Schubas's this january and it will quite frankly be mind bending to witness such a magical musician perform in such a small intimate club. I highly highly highly recommend it. My friend Nicole can attest that I was flat out hypnotized during his set opening for Mountain Goats this past month. His Andrew Bird-ish violin gliding. The loops. The way he sexily shouted in his instrument. How he plucked. How he sang like honey, dripping off the comb. Live energy, intense instrumentation, one man. MY MAN. Aggghh. "This is the Dream of Win and Regine," is probably one of my favorite songs ever. New album comes out next month, let's just say I'm excited. . . There's a reason this guy has recorded/toured with The Arcade Fire, Grizzly Bear, Patrick Wolf, Stars, The Mountain Goats and anyone else that matters, it's because he rules.
Muzzle of Bees Review
Did you really think I'd forget about my dahlings???? Like I said before, this shit ain't chronological. I just so happened to see A LOT of live music this past year and I'm having a hard time differentiating between 2009, 2008 and what I've just dreamt up. Scoring a double date with my broseph and Caroline, post gay sports bar dinner and seeeeeveral martinis, we trotted as the world's most unlikely trio to catch some badass 90's alternarock. I caught the Pixies 5 years prior, almost to the date (11/17/04 and 11/20/09) at the exact same venue - but this time I hopped a 5 minute bus ride compared to a 4.5 hour long drive from northern Wisco. I've officially made it! Ahhhhh. Doolittle was played in completion, following a handful of b-sides including Manta Ray and Weird at My School. I LOVE doolittle so this made me very happy. They closed things off with Velouria and U-Mass and while Jame was bummed about the absence of Where is My Mind, I think he got over it. The show was incredible and I was a hit with the lesbians (3 different girlfriends, what what). I sweated, danced, screamed, shook and just boogied. My bro got drunk. Caroline laughed. Best night ever and I can't wait for the next time this quartet gets hard for cash and comes up with an excuse for a Surfer Rosa concept tour. . . Here's to fingers crossed for Aragon, 2014.
Muzzle of Bees Review
Yep, I'm just as surprised as you are to see this name on the list. But I gots to give credit where credit's due, and this female frontier of avant garde cult faves Dresden Dolls blew my mind this past March. I can't recall if it was Paste, The Onion or who's day showcase party Palmer was rocking, but she did it right. Sweat rolling off her face, seemingly half intoxicated on sleep deprivation (she had just gotten off a Redeye from Australia), Palmer crooned, rocked and seduced this day crowd with several numbers from her debut solo effort, Who Killed Amanda Palmer. I got some incredible vids on my youtube page, which instantly got thousands of hits. Highlights included the tongue in cheek, "Oasis," "Astronaut," "Ampersand" and an incredible ukelelee rendition of Radiohead's "Creep." Girl can rock it, hard, hairy armpits, melting eyeliner and underpants exposed. Keys, mic and ukelelee, I kind of want to marry her.
Muzzle of Bees Review
I had a horrible winter last year. I was in the midst of getting over a difficult break-up, had fewer friends than what I could count on one hand, hated my job and despised the cold weather. As a result, I was a hermit - a bitter, very difficult and pissy hermit. Free tickets to Schuba's or not, there was no way I was going to man up to the finger biting frigid conditions outside, despite the rave reviews of Grizzly Bear's Daniel Rossen's side project. But then my roommate went on some date with some dude or another and I was sad/mad at not having my own life. So then I kicked myself in the ass, threw on the eskimo parka/mittens and multiple scarves and surprised myself by toughing it out. My reward: the most intimate, incredibly delicate and touching live performance I had witnessed in some time. In Ear Park was one of my fave releases of 08 and Schuba's was the ideal venue to showcase this ridiculously incredible soundtrack. Despite the old drunk dude behind me who kept asking if this was the Eagles, I had a chance to grow up and be a big girl, baby steps to my newfound independence of 09 and enjoy one hell of a show. 37 degrees below zero or not, fuck you mother nature, I did done had myself a swell time.
I had read blog post and beyond about this troupe's latest effort, Merriweather Post Pavillion and was hesitant to jump onboard. Sometimes the hip new trick of the week isn't quite my fortay, but when my friend Ryan asked me if I cared to take his extra ticket off his hand, I figured I had nothing to lose. Picked up the disc that very afternoon and needless to say, I took an instant liking (it's kind of only my number one album of 2009, guys). The hazy, experimental and vibrant electronic pop magic exuded from everywhere the night of this show. It was as if the floors, walls and ceilings of the Metro vibrated with power as my fave trio of dudes went all crazy on their synths, getting the kids and drugged out hipsters dancing and moving. I don't really know, I was so mesmerized by the lights/sounds, it was as if every sensation and sense I had was in overdrive. It was an incredible first date to my courtship with AC. Def translated better live indoors vs what I had briefly caught at P4K the previous summer.
I've been pounding out ramblings for a while now, if I was to type up excerpts for every show that wowed me this past year, it'd take me weeks. (and put you into a coma of boredom). Instead, I'm stoppin this shit riiiiight heeeeyer. Some other shit I checked this past year that deserves a shout-out, (note, no Lady Sovereign, dumb biiiiiiitch). . . .
Cursive - Bottom Lounge - MoB Review
The XX/Friendly Fires - Bottom Lounge - MoB Review
Dirty Projectors - Milennium Park
The Thermals - Bottom Lounge - MoB Review & 5 Questions w/MoB
Peter Bjorn and John - Metro - MoB Review
Conor Oberst and the Mystic Valley Band - Metro - MoB Review
Dan Deacon - Metro & Halloween in Bridgeport (just say no to mystery cupcakes, kids) - MoB Review
Mirah - Schuba's
Handsome Furs - Empty Bottle, Do the Division - 5 Questions w/MoB, MoB Review & SXSW Vid
Junior Boys - Do the Division
Crocodiles/Holy Fuck - Empty Bottle
Girls - Empty Bottle - MoB Review
Deer Tick - Empty Bottle - MoB Review
Franz Ferdinand - Riviera Theatre - MoB Review
Phoenix - Aragon
Ladytron - Metro - MoB Review & 5 Questions w/MoB
Wavves - Empty Bottle - MoB Review & SXSW Vid
Janelle Monae - SXSW
The Whigs - Bottom Lounge - MoB Review
Friday, December 11, 2009
Siccccck
So on my free vacation day, I was at a Starbuck's to kill 20 minutes before an important meeting down the street. After I awkwardly changed out of my ronald mcdonald red galoshes and slipped on the high heels, I ran out of objects to distract myself. So naturally, I couldn't help but eavsdrop on this pair of gel greased, slicked back wanna be smooth dudes straight across from me.
Their conversation went a little something like this. (Mind you, they were both on the larger side, pushing mid forties, just overall pathetic looking - but true, their suits probably cost equivalent to my annual salary each).
Greaser Sick Dude #1 (I liked him the least of the two): "Hey man, no I'm serious. Set this meeting up for me and you will get laaaaaid! It was just like last time, when I took these two girls out and was like - you bitches wait!!!"
Greaser Sick Dude #2 (Slightly uncomfortable): "Heh. Didn't they get upset when you called them bitches?"
GSD#1: "Not at all! They loved it! Couldn't stop laughing their asses off. So what about this meeting, I can get the tickets. . . "
GSD#2: "Well, I'm just not sure I can arrange it. . . "
GSD#1: "Truuuuust me!! These tickets are $1500 a piece!!!! You'll be front row, get in to the fierce after party with me and my boys and hang out in VIP, she'll be in the palm of your hand! I'm in sales, gimme a break here and meet me half way, its' just one meeting!!! How old again did you say she is?"
GSD#2: "Uhhh, she's 26."
GSD#1: "Oooh, that's kind of older, isn't it? Oh well, just imagine! She'll be eating it up and alll over you, you said she's cute right?"
GSD#2: "Uh, yeah. What kind of tickets are these again? I'm not sure I can do this."
GSD#1: "You can do this! You will do this! Just one fifteen minute meeting. Trust me, it'll be so worth it. If she's a looker, just imagine! My actress friend and my sister's friend who's in the band - oh it will be so hot! $1500 tickets! You can't let me down, man."
GSD#2 (starting to get a little excited now, disappointing me across the room): "Yeah, that will be something. Good tickets huh? VIP? Wow. I think I might be able to work something up, this girl is pretty special."
GSD#1: "So you really like her? It's nice to see if I'm still macho, got it with the ladies, you know what I mean? You know what I mean. . . Just impressing these ladies, they turn into putty in your hands! So let's have you get this meeting set up and I'll take a look into the ticket situation, win win really."
GSD#2: "I'll see what I can do. . ."
Jodi dumps out the remaining 3/4's of her $2 small coffee, picks up the plastic bag containing her wet rainboots and exits left - sicked out of her mind. This ancient 26-year old bitch is having none of it. Mid life crisis much? GROSS.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
a little late, eh?
Dear friends,
I have a confession to make. I am a fool. I passed the buzz wagon on the wrong bands and gleefully hopped on at the wrong times. Wavves? Yeah. . .genious, right? (HA!) Girls, they're really something right?? (Ummm. . . )
King Khan? Camera Obscura? I THINK I'LL PASS BECAUSE I HAVE NO REASON TO WHATSOEVER AND IT'S ONLY MEDIUM-HYPE, I JUMP AT HYPE HYPE NOT PSEUDO HYPE.
and as a result, i was at a loss. for way too long. turns out king khan & bbq's "invisible girl" and camera obscura's "my maudlin career" are both impeccable records that i discovered a bit too late in the 2009 best of contender race. it is safe to say, however, that neither wavves nor girls will be making cameo appearances on this list.
my condensed last minute forced version which probably isn't numerically accurate (but ryan needed it and if i would have beaten myself up over everything it would have taken months to complete). it's diff than my previous post, but for the remainder of tonight at least, i will stick by it.
voila! jodi's 2009 beats
(honorable mentions: neko case - middle cyclone, dirty projectors - bitte orca, andrew bird - noble creatures, kid cudi - man on moon, camera obscura - my maudlin career, etc)
01 Animal Collective | Merriweather Post Pavillion
02 YACHT | See Mystery Lights
03 Yeah Yeah Yeahs | It's Blitz!
04 P.O.S. | Never Better
05 Metric | Fantasies
06 Handsome Furs | Face Control
07 Passion Pit | Manners
08 The XX | The XX
09 Grizzly Bear | Veckatimest
10 Tegan and Sara | Sainthood
nightmare on argyle street
About 2-3 weeks ago, I had this horrible, crippling dream.
It was one of those that starts off normal enough, maybe the content is a little sensitive/sad (re: ex - relationships), and say, suppose, you dream the pillow you are hugging is an ex-partner. Okay, whatever.
Say next, even though in your dream you are in some sick state of undeniable bliss and all is right with the world, you suddenly snap out of said sequence and realize, no, just kidding, this is just a dumb dream. Alright. But theeen, you hear your bedroom door open. Like in real life. And you hear an unfamiliar female voice gasp in fear, "oh my god," and nearly tear up in concern/fright, "oh god, no no no."
Then what the fuck do you do? You try to scream. You try to move, roll over. Motion in some way that everything's all right - this is your bed in your bedroom, you are unharmed and just taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon.
Except you can't. You can't moan, grunt, roll over, scream - nothing. You just lay there, painfully aware that you are hugging an old, stuffed feather, not the former love of your life. It's a Saturday around 5:00 PM and you are in your bed, fully dressed, contacts plucking your eyeballs of all moisture, sticking in your mascara clumped, closed eyelashes. You want to indicate you are okay, to this stranger - how they entered your apartment and why they're in your room is unknown. But the fear and concern in their voice startles you, and once you struggle to move/silently scream, you realize you are a prisoner in your own body and become suddenly terrified.
WAKE. UP.
But you can't. After about 10 long hours (or in reality, maybe 45 seconds), of complete torture, you are finally able to make a sound. And lift your head from the coccoon of "safety blankets" you have surrounded yourself with. Look around. Realize that noone has entered your aparrment, let alone your room. You are all alone. Completely, 100% alone. And it's time to reapply the smeared mascara and get ready for another night of empty, forced social activity in bars with equally lethargic peers. This part, sadly, is not a dream.
It was one of those that starts off normal enough, maybe the content is a little sensitive/sad (re: ex - relationships), and say, suppose, you dream the pillow you are hugging is an ex-partner. Okay, whatever.
Say next, even though in your dream you are in some sick state of undeniable bliss and all is right with the world, you suddenly snap out of said sequence and realize, no, just kidding, this is just a dumb dream. Alright. But theeen, you hear your bedroom door open. Like in real life. And you hear an unfamiliar female voice gasp in fear, "oh my god," and nearly tear up in concern/fright, "oh god, no no no."
Then what the fuck do you do? You try to scream. You try to move, roll over. Motion in some way that everything's all right - this is your bed in your bedroom, you are unharmed and just taking a nap in the middle of the afternoon.
Except you can't. You can't moan, grunt, roll over, scream - nothing. You just lay there, painfully aware that you are hugging an old, stuffed feather, not the former love of your life. It's a Saturday around 5:00 PM and you are in your bed, fully dressed, contacts plucking your eyeballs of all moisture, sticking in your mascara clumped, closed eyelashes. You want to indicate you are okay, to this stranger - how they entered your apartment and why they're in your room is unknown. But the fear and concern in their voice startles you, and once you struggle to move/silently scream, you realize you are a prisoner in your own body and become suddenly terrified.
WAKE. UP.
But you can't. After about 10 long hours (or in reality, maybe 45 seconds), of complete torture, you are finally able to make a sound. And lift your head from the coccoon of "safety blankets" you have surrounded yourself with. Look around. Realize that noone has entered your aparrment, let alone your room. You are all alone. Completely, 100% alone. And it's time to reapply the smeared mascara and get ready for another night of empty, forced social activity in bars with equally lethargic peers. This part, sadly, is not a dream.
One Month Hiatus? SAY WHAT
Whoa Jodi, did you like up and die or something in the past month? What. Is. Up.
No excuse, really, for lack of rambling input. It's not like I found some wondrous new spectacular social life, joined a club, met the man of my dreams or anything of that sort. . .Just you know, this and that. Here and there. And here I am. Now. 3 glasses of post craft night merlot haze, so forgive me if the ranting and raving is a bit incohesive, I'm all Every Woman'd out and have a slight hand cramp from my feverish baby blanket crochet action (not mine, mind you).
Caught the XX and Friendly Fires last night. Enjoyed myself very very much. But you can read about how much here. Thanksgiving was what it was, I guess come to think of it the majority of my time has been focused on my familial situation. Those of you who know me get what I'm referencing, those of you who don't, well obvs. . . .It is what it is. I love my mom. I love my brother. But you know what? I'm goddamn sick of being "the rock". The strong, resilient, never cracking determined and positive one. Because really, I'm the one who's got the most instability, I'm 26 years old, drinking myself into oblivion so I can ignore the fact that I'm destined to the life of a cat lady working a job she despises--but fuck man, I'm not about to hop on the self loathing pity train either. I make my ends meet. I pay my bills. I love the shit out of my friends. So it's all good - it evens out. Point being, I shouldn't have to worry about taking care of my 58 year old mom or my 41 year old brother being a dick to her. They are both big adults and should be able to fend for themselves or AT LEAST possess common sense to know what's right/wrong, etc. without me having to be there to hold their hands and tell them it'll all be okay.
Whatever. Let's just say I'm glad to be back in the city on my own and am really hoping for a friends xmas in the city vs another family gathering. Cold hearted much? Maybe. I choose apathy. Erggg.
Other than that. . . Job is job. Friends rule. Craft night and book club = both regular events. Love them much. Makes me feel like I fit in finally with a group of likeminded individuals who appreciate my nerdy recreational activities just as much as me. Got a bunch of free art/music events approaching within the next week and next week I have two freebie vacation days, so yes, there's stuff to look forward to.
Just started another one of my unhealthy crash diet kicks. Special K cereal, lean cuisines and severely loud growling stomachs. You know how I do. I'll torture myself for the next 2-3 weeks until I shed 5 or so pounds and then get comfortable, dive into the holidays and gain it all back. SUCCESS.
I think I'm on a new record of rambling. I need to pick some subjects and ramble about those instead. . . .
(final sidenote: i tried to google image my name in quotes and was going to post the most unflattering image of me that populated - there used to be this funny pic of my tramp stamp tattoo and another of me by my space heater in college from my school paper, but now after 8 pages there is not a single image of me, but articles i've written for MoB and then just cool bands I've never written about. "Jodi Root" = arcade fire. makes sense, yes? So in conclusion, funny cats trump all else.)
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
soundtrack to intermission
Winter's a comin', right behind the corner - I can feel it. I'm starting to get all sorts of self destructive again, lashing out not necessarily against others, but myself. Trying to push myself, as EXTREME as I can. How much partying? How much negativity? How much pessimism? Alcohol binging much? Not necessarily self pity or indulgence, more just, eh, whatever, there's nothing else going on.
Halloween was kind of a wake-up call. I can't sit here and worry, feel bad about yesterday, the past year - what I've missed vs what I have. If I start this shit up before it even starts snowing, I'm in trouble. Truth be told, I have some pretty fantastic friends in my crew - dudes & gals who will stick through it with me, even when I'm not so much superfunfantasticcrazy Jodi, but even when I'm boringsadunenthused Jodi. Trouble is, sometimes these two will collide with the lethal combination of alcohol, and then everyone gets hurt by the explosion. I drunk text, talk trash, get all sorts of nogood. This bit's gonna chill out. This isn't to say no drinking ever - I did actually consume two overpriced PBR bottles this very evening on my bowling date with Miss Ashley, but no more Last Friday nights, that's for sure.
So to distract myself? In my post-era of shame and embarassment of drunken behavior, I've been fully immensing myself with new (and old) music. I mean, c'mon. I write about it (or at least when I'm motivated I can). I talk about it. I rock out to it. I have several self lip-sync danceoffs in my mirror with it. I sing to my cat to it. I strut to the train with it. Etc. So of course, it's time. Time to turn off the tv, dvds and even give reading a rest. Just sit in my cozy bedroom, curl up in my pink and purple bedding, surround myself in a pillow fort illuminated by my pac-man xmas tree light wall design. Pump up the jams.
I'm really feeling more positive, upbeat tracks right now. While I don't think I'd ever shell out the dollars, I am definitely enjoying select tracks from the recently downloaded R&B/Pop fusion sounds of Keri Hilson & The Dream. Both are total fly summer soundtracks crammed full of cheesey "Oh Girl's," "Drop Your Booty's," and "My Baby," (and sport cameos from mr.west, which sure don't hurt).
On top of that, the Swedish pop princess Annie has succeeded in getting me to pump up those 8 lb dumbbells in style. "Hey Annie" and "I Don't Like Your Band" are delectable, dance ready pop girly jams. While Basment Jaxx's "Scars," has got me wishing I was a post-raver kid (seriously that title track is ILL as HELL), the real winner of last weekend's downloading session belongs to the Nellie McKay/Mirah/I don't know what reminiscent girly vintage indie folk pop why the fuck haven't I heard this before outfit, The Bird and the Bee. Their album is. . . amazing. Words can't summarize my love for it. Songs like "Diamond Dave," "Polite Dance Song" and "My Love" are just too incredible to type descriptives for.
Hiphop I know I should have but didn't before - new Mos Def & Ghostface, both alright additions to the itunes library - haven't had much of a chance to check either in completion yet, but did rock the headphones in the cubicle earlier this week. Ghostface is a bit too "oh girl you so special" for me this time around, but hey it's still ghost - i ain't gonna hate. Oh yeah, and then there's this teenage twin duo named Tegan and Sara? They dropped the (LOOOOONG AWAITED) 6th album Sainthood this last week. A more in depth summary of my true feelings is soon to follow (hopefully, once I get this stubborn woe-is-me stick out of my ass and I can concentrate on writing organized words in order vs rambling on these lil blogs). I will give you a hint, though - T&S is def good. I likes it. "Hell" is an eerie resemblance to my breakup last year. HOW EMO OF ME, RIGHT??
On top of that, I picked up two impulse buys at Laurie's tonight - The Pixies' Doolittle (gotta get the numerical track listing memorized before the big show 11/20 - can I just ramble on a quick tangent about how SUPER excited i am for my big date night with Carol & broseph??? Shit will be bananas!) and Ryan Adams' debut Heartbreaker on a gchat recommendation earlier today. While it's getting late here, (9:59 pm WHAT WHAT), and I can't seem to quit rocking the Neon Indian album (another weekend treasure discovery - synth 80's miami vice electro experi-indie pop at its absolute finest), I do fully intend on rocking the new purchases tomorrow in cubicle land.
So this, I guess, is the current soundtrack to my (not depressed, but, I guess we'll call it) Intermission Period. This is where I knock shit off and start to get real. Figure it out, as best as I can for now anyway. These beats will help get me there, even if I never spin them again 365 days from now when the Jonas Brothers take over the world and hold all hostage to their listening dismay.
Neon Indian - Psychic Chasms
The Pixies - Doolittle
Tegan and Sara - Sainthood
Ryan Adams - heartbreaker
Basement Jaxx - Scars
The Bird and the Bee - Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future
The Dream - Love vs Money
Ghostface Killah - Ghostdini Wizard of Poetry in Emerald City
Annie - Don't Stop
Keri Hilson - In a Perfect World
Mos Def - The Ecstatic
and more to follow. . . . (Julian Casablancas & Girls are on my wish list, hopefully in my collection in the very near future if my wonderful co-worker with super rad taste sticks true to his "i will burn you this" word).
Halloween was kind of a wake-up call. I can't sit here and worry, feel bad about yesterday, the past year - what I've missed vs what I have. If I start this shit up before it even starts snowing, I'm in trouble. Truth be told, I have some pretty fantastic friends in my crew - dudes & gals who will stick through it with me, even when I'm not so much superfunfantasticcrazy Jodi, but even when I'm boringsadunenthused Jodi. Trouble is, sometimes these two will collide with the lethal combination of alcohol, and then everyone gets hurt by the explosion. I drunk text, talk trash, get all sorts of nogood. This bit's gonna chill out. This isn't to say no drinking ever - I did actually consume two overpriced PBR bottles this very evening on my bowling date with Miss Ashley, but no more Last Friday nights, that's for sure.
So to distract myself? In my post-era of shame and embarassment of drunken behavior, I've been fully immensing myself with new (and old) music. I mean, c'mon. I write about it (or at least when I'm motivated I can). I talk about it. I rock out to it. I have several self lip-sync danceoffs in my mirror with it. I sing to my cat to it. I strut to the train with it. Etc. So of course, it's time. Time to turn off the tv, dvds and even give reading a rest. Just sit in my cozy bedroom, curl up in my pink and purple bedding, surround myself in a pillow fort illuminated by my pac-man xmas tree light wall design. Pump up the jams.
I'm really feeling more positive, upbeat tracks right now. While I don't think I'd ever shell out the dollars, I am definitely enjoying select tracks from the recently downloaded R&B/Pop fusion sounds of Keri Hilson & The Dream. Both are total fly summer soundtracks crammed full of cheesey "Oh Girl's," "Drop Your Booty's," and "My Baby," (and sport cameos from mr.west, which sure don't hurt).
On top of that, the Swedish pop princess Annie has succeeded in getting me to pump up those 8 lb dumbbells in style. "Hey Annie" and "I Don't Like Your Band" are delectable, dance ready pop girly jams. While Basment Jaxx's "Scars," has got me wishing I was a post-raver kid (seriously that title track is ILL as HELL), the real winner of last weekend's downloading session belongs to the Nellie McKay/Mirah/I don't know what reminiscent girly vintage indie folk pop why the fuck haven't I heard this before outfit, The Bird and the Bee. Their album is. . . amazing. Words can't summarize my love for it. Songs like "Diamond Dave," "Polite Dance Song" and "My Love" are just too incredible to type descriptives for.
Hiphop I know I should have but didn't before - new Mos Def & Ghostface, both alright additions to the itunes library - haven't had much of a chance to check either in completion yet, but did rock the headphones in the cubicle earlier this week. Ghostface is a bit too "oh girl you so special" for me this time around, but hey it's still ghost - i ain't gonna hate. Oh yeah, and then there's this teenage twin duo named Tegan and Sara? They dropped the (LOOOOONG AWAITED) 6th album Sainthood this last week. A more in depth summary of my true feelings is soon to follow (hopefully, once I get this stubborn woe-is-me stick out of my ass and I can concentrate on writing organized words in order vs rambling on these lil blogs). I will give you a hint, though - T&S is def good. I likes it. "Hell" is an eerie resemblance to my breakup last year. HOW EMO OF ME, RIGHT??
On top of that, I picked up two impulse buys at Laurie's tonight - The Pixies' Doolittle (gotta get the numerical track listing memorized before the big show 11/20 - can I just ramble on a quick tangent about how SUPER excited i am for my big date night with Carol & broseph??? Shit will be bananas!) and Ryan Adams' debut Heartbreaker on a gchat recommendation earlier today. While it's getting late here, (9:59 pm WHAT WHAT), and I can't seem to quit rocking the Neon Indian album (another weekend treasure discovery - synth 80's miami vice electro experi-indie pop at its absolute finest), I do fully intend on rocking the new purchases tomorrow in cubicle land.
So this, I guess, is the current soundtrack to my (not depressed, but, I guess we'll call it) Intermission Period. This is where I knock shit off and start to get real. Figure it out, as best as I can for now anyway. These beats will help get me there, even if I never spin them again 365 days from now when the Jonas Brothers take over the world and hold all hostage to their listening dismay.
Neon Indian - Psychic Chasms
The Pixies - Doolittle
Tegan and Sara - Sainthood
Ryan Adams - heartbreaker
Basement Jaxx - Scars
The Bird and the Bee - Ray Guns Are Not Just the Future
The Dream - Love vs Money
Ghostface Killah - Ghostdini Wizard of Poetry in Emerald City
Annie - Don't Stop
Keri Hilson - In a Perfect World
Mos Def - The Ecstatic
and more to follow. . . . (Julian Casablancas & Girls are on my wish list, hopefully in my collection in the very near future if my wonderful co-worker with super rad taste sticks true to his "i will burn you this" word).
Monday, October 19, 2009
Where the Wild Things (Really) Are
We Were Once a Fairytale
Sunday, October 11, 2009
this ain't no lilith fair. (or is it?)
weird weekend. ending on a rather blue note, just kinda feeling twisted. trying to up my shit by checking some new (at least for me) tunage. downloaded the newer atlas sound album this eve, logos - really digging what i've heard so far, particularly the over catchy "walkabout" feat pandabear from animal collective. catchy, upbeat experimental electro-jam with a twist of vintage surf rock inspired feel good go go pop. digging it.
also put together quite the intricate mega old school playlist this evening, closest thing to a mixtape i've worked on since, well, actual casette tapes. . . it was hella chixx mix.
dug up some oldie but goodie female fronted traxx such as:
the cardigans - my favourite game
rainer maria - ears ring
the murmurs - you suck
throwing muses - snakeface
esthero - that girl
mazzy star - fade into you
juliana hatfield - everybody loves me but you
sneaker pimps - 6 underground (nellie hooper remix)
nellie mckay -sari
maria taylor - replay
tori amos - hey jupiter (dakota remix)
tracy bonham - one hit wonder
letters to cleo - demon rock
dido - i'm no angel
wonderful smith - so much sin
poe - angry johnny
veruca salt - get back
tegan and sara - where does the good go
mirah - generosity
kate nash - merry happy
neko case - the next time you say forever
fiona apple - sleep to dream
sahara hot nights - oh! darling
sleater-kinney - modern girl
now this is just a glimpse into the 119 angsty playlist. . . there's a crap ton of tori amos, fiona apple and aimee man on there, as well as a handful of pretty girls make graves, brazilian girls, letters to cleo, le tigre, garbage, veruca salt, nina gordon, alanis morissette, the noisettes, amanda palmer, amy winehouse, ani difranco, elastica, the distillers, etc etc etc.
it's a girly party up in here, ya'll. this is my tribute to the she-ra showdown, 2003-2004 - viva la chick rawk.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Brainwashed by Infatuation
Anyway—first—who have I seriously made myself available to? This one’s the easiest –no one, really. Only the aforementioned gentleman got the real full glimpse into the Jodester, and I think that prob has a lot to do with my lack of relationships—I’m a bit hesitant and wary of letting any spies into my vulnerability. Ok, next—have there been any gents that I fell for hard? I guess this was the biggest question that’s been in and out of my thoughts lately. The answer, sadly, is yes. I say sadly, because either the feelings weren’t mutual (or wait a minute. . .), or in more actuality, I never made my feelings clear with these select gentlemen so while I say to myself it wasn’t mutual—it’s probably more likely I was beating myself up so hard that I couldn’t even see if the feelings were mutual or not because I was too busy dumping on myself. Anyway, sure yeah—I’ve had flings. I’ve dated. I’ve had flavors of the month. But actually like liking someone? I can probably count them all on my fingers throughout my life (even including grade school crushes, thank you very much).
I figured it out though, the ones that really meant something and possessed qualities in which I aspire to meet now are the gentlemen who never received a nickname. Now let’s get this straight here, nicknames are not good—at least in staying power. They are not terms of endearment. They are not cute little pet names. They are how I refer to members of the male sex to my girlfriends behind said dudes’ backs. Completely juvenile and 175% immature, yes. I can see why I’m single easily – I’m shallow, judgmental and possess the intellect of a 7th grade girl. Whatever, it’s a habit I’ve had since freshman year. I don’t know exactly when/why/how it started, I just remember sitting in Rodli Hall cafeteria at UW-RF, nudging Tessa whispering full of glee, “Check it out, it’s him—Stale Popcorn.” I think Stale Popcorn might have actually been the first nickname, come to think of it. Whenever I think of, see, or eat stale popcorn, I think very fondly of one of my first college crushes. (No wait, Creepy Kyle was first, but whatever he wore socks with sandals and said he loved me after two weeks via hotmail, so he’s exempt—weird).
But yeah, Stale Popcorn. His real name was Tim. He was cute as hell. Definitely not the typical Jodi type by any means, he was part hippie, part farmer, total Sconnie who wore horrible clothes—think like Wrangler jeans, worker boots and horrible tan shirts. He was skinny as a rail and on the quiet side. But something about his goofy shy smile and big wide eyes drew me to him. He was cute as a button—but again, not exactly smoking hot like STD guy (not venereal diseases—Saves The Day Guy—one of maybe five guys who rocked an emo band shirt at an otherwise hick cowboy university—STD Guy is a whole other post, just thinking of his body (I never go for built dudes but DAYUM) and sexy sexy face is making me salivate heavier than Pavlov’s Dogs, shit); but still cute—(back to Stale Popcorn here). He was nice to look at, but not my Antonio Sabato Junior. I guess he was like eye candy, but not the Oreo’s—more like stale popcorn—it’s tasty enough, and if it’s there and it’s all you got, it will definitely suffice as a snack. That was Stale Popcorn—Tim was a good kid. Anyway, he was my goal freshman year. I’d see him at the cafeteria and find an excuse to go sneak another plate of French fries or fountain soda to try and follow him around. I’d walk faster when I’d see him at the library mall, just to get in his line of vision. But as much as I tried, it never worked. But then, finally, there was one magical night at the Football House (or was it the Basketball House? I never knew the difference bw those bro-infested shitpits). I remember clearly, like it was yesterday, walking down the crooked staircase behind Tessa who got to the bottom before me and suddenly whipped around to face me, eyes as huge as saucers. “Jodeeeeeee!!!” she squealed and without another word, grabbed my wrist and led me to the entrance of the filthy basement.
There I ran, straight into, Stale Popcorn. I was blind sighted. And in love—well, not hardly. But I was half in the bag and feeling giddier than a fat girl getting asked to the prom. Tessa had whispered to him before I came through the doorway that he “should probably say hi to her(me)” before scampering away. I don’t have the slightest clue what we talked about or how long it lasted, but let’s just say Jodi got her goal. Actually, I grew to really enjoy Tim and I’m pretty sure he got a kick out of me—we hung fairly regularly for the remainder of the school year, but were not a romantic item per say. More less, I would go to his and “Bouncing Brad,” his roommate’s dorm room and watch them get lit up and play the didgeridoo and bongo drums, all the while making me listen to some G. Love and the Special Sauce. It was my brief flirtation with hippiedom, while I still stood out like a sore thumb sporting my ever hip camouflage army pants and Jimmy Eat World hoodie I lived in in 2001. But yeah, Stale Popcorn, I think he’s married and works for the Wisconsin DNR these days. Good for him.
So I guess Stale Popcorn sort of defies my nickname rule, and STD Guy isn’t the worst tag you could get either—well, technically speaking I guess it is, but my meaning behind it was totally not intentional. . . (Side story of STD Guy, he wound up living with a pretty good friend of mine from the college radio station. One day while chilling at their house, my friend walked by and caught me red-handed smelling STD Guy’s bath towel. It was pretty creepy—but c’mon, wouldn’t you want to get a taste of what pure infatuation smells like?) I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I heard a rumor recently that STD Guy is into cougars—goddamn him.
But yes, back to nicknames. While some are worse than others, even if the nickname is cute and I can now think back fondly on some of my victims, the assigned nickname is the first sign of “It’s not gonna happen”-dom. (Mike definitely never had a nickname. ) Who else fell victim to freshman year at UWRF? Non-romantically, there was Salt-Man, Nerd, Mafia Man, (fellow journalism student whose family had to relocate to Green Bay to avoid their ties with the mob—apparently dude’s uncle was the under guy for John Gotti and the fam was on the lam), oh yeah and Benny the Beerman—but that’s as much of mention that that slimeball is getting in this post, the little troll.
So I think that’s where the shallow name game stemmed from—but not only did it follow me through the remainder of my college career, it’s still with me loud and strong today. I’ve been ultra-unlucky in my quest for companionship since my split with the ex last year, but within the 12 months of wince-worthy challenges I’ve come across: Troll, Slimeball, Little-Timmy- Miller-from-the-Well, Creeper, Creepster, Hairy-Butt-Man, Sniffles, The-Dude-Who-Slapped-Me-In-The-Face, Stalker (wait, that was the same dude as Slimeball), and a handful of others who I’d just throw “Creepy” in front of their first name. The saddest part was, I would pinpoint these nicknames usually when I first met/started hanging out with any of these dudes—given, in the last year not a single guy has made it past the 3-date limit with the exception of one jerk who I randomly drunken made out with maybe 4 or 5 times tops—but that hardly counts. But still, that’s saying I’d meet these guys, entirely straight faced, and either dine out or grab drinks for an evening and then rush home to IM or text Courtney, Dara or Caroline and exchange horror stories; referring to “How creepy Slimer was tonight—he got hit by a car on his bike on his way to see me and still showed up to the bar all bloody!”, “Troll kept trying to hold my hand—who the fuck does he think he is bringing me roses on a second date?!”, “Oh fuck, I think Creeper’s in love with me already. . .” It was bad.
So now, thinking back . . . who hasn’t received a nickname from me? I’ll admit that I’ve probably at least swapped spit once or twice with a good portion of my good male friends at some point or another in our pasts. I didn’t give any of these dudes nicknames, (or if I did they will NEVER know about it!!!!). But thinking realistically, how many of these guys were exempt that got away and would have had a shot at (at least my personal) happiness. I’ve thought about this a lot the past week. I can think of three guys who I’ve always had feelings for and probably will for as long as I know them, whether or not they know this I have no clue, but I’m pretty safe in my assumption that it doesn’t matter if they knew or not, I’m 98% certain it wouldn’t make a difference—and plus I’m lucky enough to be friends with these individuals and I would never ever risk losing that friendship over a stupid stab at high hopes—not worth it. Then again, I can think of at least three to four others who I had feelings for but didn’t realize it at the time, and totally blew it and treated them like dirt. Luckily for me I’m pretty sure I’ve been since forgiven, but if I had a time machine, I would go back and do it all over differently—I can’t say I would have continued pursuing any romantic relationships, but I definitely would have ended things on a much more respectable level.
I can honestly say that now, though, if things had posed opportunities at this stage in my life, I wouldn’t have been such a fuck up idiot and who knows what could have happened. Woulda, shoulda, coulda—but I didn’t. Oh well, it all happens certain ways for certain reasons and the objective behind this rambling post isn’t to beat myself up or live in any stage of whimsful regret—it’s just an in-depth observation—none of these dudes had nicknames (well, not incriminating ones anyway). I look forward to the day when I will meet a guy, and rather than instantly click an identifiable immediate association or nickname to relay to my girlfriends post-meeting, I will just be dumbfounded and speechless. All I truly yearn for is to be brainwashed by infatuation. I’m confident it’s coming; I just gotta stop, shut up once in a while and actually allow someone to swipe me off my feet.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
It's Time to Pick it Up or Pack it In, 2009. . .
Ok, so I just spent the last two hours wracking my good-for-nothing brain for my top albums of the year. And then I realized, man, 2009's been kind of bleak as far as new releases, hasn't it? So then I got distracted and tried to make a list of my top 100 favorite albums ever, and around number 56, I had to start cheating and flipping through my list of albums on my iTunes and then even that got difficult because I knew I'd overlook a lot of big ones from my past and try to just jot down the cool bands vs. the ones that really influenced me growing up. . . Then I got distracted again and tried to write down all my favorite 100 songs. That was an even bigger waste of time. . . So then, back to 2009.
Here it is, October, 10 months into the year. I should have a pretty solid idea of contenders--however, I was barely able to come up with ten albums that came out this year that I even picked up, let alone enjoyed. Let's just say Tegan and Sara have QUITE the pressure, come October 27th with their upcoming release Sainthood. This better be it, the hands-down winner. . . I don't think I can handle another It's Blitz! Don't get me wrong, YYY's newest does make an appearance on my "Top Ten Thus Far" list, but c'mon, the anticipation killed me for way too high of hopes. C'mon Tegan and Sara, if your hair isn't super wacky this time around (at least not in the promo shots), you best be making some memorable jams to make up for the mediocre past 300 or so days. . .
Anyway, here's what I got. It's VERY likely to change come December, (hopefully there will be a few solid realeases this last stretch or I'm super spacey and forgot some super obvious releases here. . .) The numerical order is likely to flex as well, but fuck it, as of Tuesday, October 6th, 9:18 PM CST--these are dem beatz I dug the past 10 months. . .
![]()
10 - Kid Cudi - Man on the Moon: End of Day
Kanye's prodigal son is hot. Like, literally. Dude's maybe not the smoothest rhymer, or the dopest MC, but he def has got a way with words and has a killer smile. I caught him live this past March at the Fader Fort with Ye, and between his work last year on 808s and Heartbreak, cameo on Jay's latest instillment of the Blueprint and his HUGE debut single "Day N Nite," people are catching onto dat kid from cleveland. I was familiar with the majority of the work from this album prior to its September release due to a variety of mixtapes and leaked singles, but not disappointed. Highlights include the MGMT/Ratatat collaboration - "Pursuit of Happiness," the super upbeat "Up Up and Away," the slick production of "Sky Might Fall," Lady GaGa playoff w/Ye and Common "Make Her Say" and "Soundtrack 2 My Life." Good debut, son--just maybe save some of your best for a surprise, next time around instead of leaking all the gems.
![]()
9 - Passion Pit - Manners
These dudes totally blind sighted me. I never had heard of them, and then suddenly one day, BAM! The blogosphere had suddenly blown up and this album was getting rave reviews left and right. It was a bit like the Dirty Projectors mania and I was so sick of reading and hearing about this group that I boycotted it at first. I have a love/hate relationship with the Dirty Projectors and who knows, maybe they'll find a spot on this list within two months from now, but unlike DP, I took a liking to Passion Pit's catchy, sped up falsetto party jams instantly. Tracks like "Sleepyhead," "The Reeling," "Little Secrets" and "Moths Wings" should be banned from all iPods & stereosystems immediately--they're so damned catchy they will never leave your head--seriously. An interesting blend of this and that, the closest I could come to initially describing this outfit was Instrumentation of The Arcade Fire meets Polyphonic Spree's happiness/feel goodness with a pinch of Architecture in Helsinki's cuteness/dance party if sung by the falsetto dudes from TV on the Radio (If they were white). Imagine that--but way better, and you have Passion Pit.
![]()
8 - Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest
I really don't want this album to wind up on my top 10 of the year. Why? Because it will be on EVERYONE'S top ten of '09. But whatever, it's a solid release and there's no denying it. While I dug some older Grizzly Bear, I can't say I ever fell super hard for them. I def got huge into Daniel Rossen's other thang late last year (Dept of Eagles), so I'm a sucker for his melodic vox--but GB was always one of those hype machines that I never really understood, but still, never really disliked either. I decided to hop on the Veckatimest bus, however, when the album initially leaked this past spring. Noone, and I mean noone, can deny that "Two Weeks" was the official summer jam of 2009. This melodic glee club charm, complete with probably my favorite video of the year, was a classic indie gem--and is one of my favorite tracks of the year. Other standout numbers included album opener "Southern Point," the eloquent sing along "All We Ask," the almost Beatles inspired track "Cheerleader," and the gorgeous "While You Wait for the Others." Ok, so now looking back at this album, I guess I'll just stick to the flocks and keep this one on the list--this album ain't hibernating from my rotation any time soon after all. . .
![]()
7 - Handsome Furs - Face Control
Dan and Alexei are not only the sexiest couple in rock'n'roll, but they're also the humblest, coolest and fucking nicest. I caught this duo live more times than I can count within the last year, touring their asses off in support of their latest release. Face Control is a collection of sexy, electroriffic, guitar thrashing, key pounding, dance jams. You can't really go wrong when your singer is 1/2 of the vocals from Canadian indie all-stars Wolf Parade, but kickass live shows aside, songs like the George Harrison-Got-My-Mind-Set-on-You-ish-party-jam "I'm Confused," sex dripping "Evangeline," immediate and pounding "Legal Tender," ridiculously catchy and fun "Talking Hotel Arbat Blues" and of course, the sing along "All We Want Baby, is Everything" will rock your goddamn face off. It's impossible to control, sorry dudes--you gotta keep your shit in check. The fact that these two hung with my drunk ass for a half hour at the Holy Fuck gig at the Empty Bottle this past June definitely ups my appreciation for them as peeps, but the fact that they keep coming back and rocking it hard sold me on their jams. CHECK THEM OUT.
![]()
6 - Andrew Bird - Noble Beast
What can I say about Chicago's very own multi-instrumentalist-sexy-whistlin' fiend Mr. Bird? A LOT. Bird has yet to release an album I haven't enjoyed immensely, and Noble Beast may be my favorite one yet. Call me a sucker for victrolas and strings, dapper young gentlemen in suits (whistling!), and honey-drippin' vocals. Dude makes my knees buckle whether he's singing about sociopaths or nomenclature. It doesn't matter, harmonies and orchestration are everywhere and everytime I pop in this Beast, I'm instantly transported to Jodi Happy Land--whether that's an effort to distract myself from cleaning my apartment floors, sipping a bloody mary mid-hangover after a rough night, or even temporarily forgetting I'm trapped in the confinements of cubicle hell at the nine-to-five. Why Noble Beast rules more than the last four records? Easy: "Fitz & Dizzyspells" (Seriously - that whistling breakdown!!!); "Oh No" (more whistling again, but gorgeous percussion); "Tenuousness" (that opening makes me feel like I'm on a trip somewhere, somewhere I've never been, and it's gonna be a really good trip); "Not a Robot, But a Ghost" (As if that song title isn't explanation enough, then maybe you should try giving this track a listen--b/c it gets better); "Anonanimal" (just nice on the ears, overall, really). As if all these weren't reason enough, Bird included a limited release of instrumental songs in addition called Useless Creatures. Pretttttttty. Did I mention I'm also in love with Andrew Bird? This helps secure a spot on any Jodi Countdown Ever.
![]()
5 - Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It's Blitz!
I hope I convince myself as an afterthought to bump this one up the countdown. I put together a pretty in-depth review together upon its initial spring release over at Muzzle of Bees which you can read here; and I don't think my thoughts have changed toooo much to date, except that it may have grown on me a bit more. Tracks like the electra ballad "Hysteric" and the vintage plugged in "Soft Shock" have now snuck ways into my heart, joining the likes of up-beat singles "Zero" and "Heads will Roll." Still, though, fave track is and remains "Dull Life" due to its likeness of both Fever to Tell and Show Your Bones swagger. I think I might have been a bit too harsh on It's Blitz! in the beginning, but only like those psycho pressuring high school football dads who are hard on their sons for not making it to the state championships--we expected more out of you, you're greater than that--but we still love you anyway. Plus, I now can't blame Karen O if her attention wasn't fully focused on YYY at the time, I'm pretty madly obsessed with her score for Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack, aka, the unofficial YYY side project, Karen O & the Kids. Kids = Nick Zinner, Brian Chase, Bradford Cox & a couple Raconteurs, not too shabby. But that's a different post. Moral of the story? Karen O is cooler than both you and me--oh and she's also really good at giving memorable birthday parties.
![]()
4 - YACHT - See Mystery Lights
Heard these guys here and there, before they were a duo and it was just Jona Bechtolt (who is my facebook friend to the end), and before the days Miss Claire L. Evans was on board. I knew Bechtolt's reputation preceded him as being "The Timbaland to Indie Beats," and I knew he was dope with the DFA crew. I dug The Summer Song EP, which dropped sometime late last year or early this one--and featured a pretty dancetastic remix of "Fell in Love with a Ripper," in addition to the aforementioned "Summer Song," which was Bechtolt's love song to fellow tourmates LCD Soundsystem. All history aside, this duo is A) Super fun amazing live, (I caught em both at Schubas this past March and again at the Empty Bottle a few weeks back), whipping out amazing audiovisual props, rad-as-fire dance moves, and hott male-female vocal/sexual energy; B) Again, extremely humble and personable--I met them at their merch table at Schuba's, again at the Bottle, but also not one week after the March show shoulder to shoulder in the crowd for Kanye's gig at Fader Fort in Austin--(not only did they remember me, but I got to boogie with them to the likes of College Dropout and Graduation--jealous?); C) Super cool in general--(evidence, interview w/MoB here). I guess the fact that their 10-song album was one of the biggest circular dance parties existing in my cd collection's entire history, let alone 2009, speaks volumes too. I will give you $5 if you can listen to "Psychic City," "The Afterlife," and/or "Ring the Bell" without involuntarily shaking your hips and breaking it down. Seriously. Electro-indie pop genius at its best, this duo rocks.
![]()
3 - P.O.S. - Never Better
I've always been a huge fan of the Minneapolis hip-hop scene since my clumsy midwestern whitegirl-self stumbled upon Atmosphere back in the God Loves Ugly days. Any member of the Rhymesayers family and Doomtree crew usually had their distinguishable mid-west thang down and I dug it hard. Last year it was Slug who topped my top list of 08, with When Life Gives You Lemons. . . , but now this year's honor is bestowed upon the intense, poetic rhyming skills of P.O.S.. Stef's performance with fellow Doomtree pals Mike Mictlan, Sims and Lazerbeak this past spring at Reggie's Live only upped my appreciation for his lyrical prose and intelligent swagger. I caught him a second time around in Austin, sandwiched between Eyedea & Abilities and Brother Ali for the Rhymesayer's SXSW set and a third round at Chicago's Bottom Lounge opening for Cursive. Each set was a different vibe, different demographic, yet Stef kept it real and put his best out for the people, never once faltering in his energy levels and determined intensity. Never Better is just that, a solid album with limited pauses or opportunities for improvement. Joints like "Savion Glover," "Purexed," "Goodbye," "Out of Category" and "Optimist (We are Not for Them)" keep his most recent effort flowing strong, and it definitely earned its high rank in my top ten this year.
![]()
2 - Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion
I will say AC is for some, and def not for others. It's more of an experience, and I guess either you get it or you don't care to--I know I didn't bother running to their P4K set months before, after listening to older work and wound up just being bored and confused. But something about Merriweather clicked with me. Maybe it was the dancey vibes of "Summertime Clothes," the tinkering seawater escape feel of "My Girls," the slow-yet-totally-worth-it-finally-building up-breakdown-at-the-2 minute,-30-second-mark-of "In the Flowers," the didgeridoo infused "Lion in a Coma" or the maybe even kinda El Guincho tribal/coastal vibes of "Brother Sport" that won me over. But it was probably all of the above, with extra credit. This album helped keep me from going insane in an otherwise freezing and dark time of the year, and any experience that can keep me distracted enough from forgetting I have no feeling in my toes is good news in my book. I read somewhere that AC named this album after a local venue in their stomping grounds, but I'm picturing Merriweather Post Pavilion as a different kind of place--a tropical surrealistic island of sorts, a magical escape from reality. And this makes me happy.
![]()
1 - Metric - Fantasies
Wow, this one is definitely a surprise. While I'm a fan of pretty much any relative of the Broken Social Scene extended fam, I've never considered myself a Metric superfan by any means. Sure, Emily Haines is pretty rad and yeah, their songs are darned catchy. But, this album hitting the number one spot was definitely a dark horse in the running. A friend of mine highly recommended the record to me on multiple occassions, but it wasn't until he handed me a physical burned copy that I really took him seriously. Where did this delectable electropop rock goddess come from? This glam soaked collection of sleek, sexy power pop songs is more than I can handle--but in a totally good way. Tracks like "Help, I'm Alive," "Gimme Sympathy," "Gold Guns Girls" and "Twilight Galaxy" are loud, soft, fast and slow--but all equally demanding of your listening pleasure. I still cannot put my finger on what set Fantasies apart from past Metric efforts, to be honest, and believe me I've tried. I think it honestly might have just been a combination of the right songs at the right time, and the right experiences with the right people. I happened to meet my best friend randomly outside of a bar this summer by offering up my extra free unspoken Metric ticket to their Chi gig at the Metro. Not only did she actually take me up on the offer, but the show itself was an incredible first date, and it's crazy to think I wouldn't have met her without Metric. So, yeah, that might have something to do with it--or maybe it's just a coincidence. Regardless, I really, really like this album.
Here it is, October, 10 months into the year. I should have a pretty solid idea of contenders--however, I was barely able to come up with ten albums that came out this year that I even picked up, let alone enjoyed. Let's just say Tegan and Sara have QUITE the pressure, come October 27th with their upcoming release Sainthood. This better be it, the hands-down winner. . . I don't think I can handle another It's Blitz! Don't get me wrong, YYY's newest does make an appearance on my "Top Ten Thus Far" list, but c'mon, the anticipation killed me for way too high of hopes. C'mon Tegan and Sara, if your hair isn't super wacky this time around (at least not in the promo shots), you best be making some memorable jams to make up for the mediocre past 300 or so days. . .
Anyway, here's what I got. It's VERY likely to change come December, (hopefully there will be a few solid realeases this last stretch or I'm super spacey and forgot some super obvious releases here. . .) The numerical order is likely to flex as well, but fuck it, as of Tuesday, October 6th, 9:18 PM CST--these are dem beatz I dug the past 10 months. . .
10 - Kid Cudi - Man on the Moon: End of Day
Kanye's prodigal son is hot. Like, literally. Dude's maybe not the smoothest rhymer, or the dopest MC, but he def has got a way with words and has a killer smile. I caught him live this past March at the Fader Fort with Ye, and between his work last year on 808s and Heartbreak, cameo on Jay's latest instillment of the Blueprint and his HUGE debut single "Day N Nite," people are catching onto dat kid from cleveland. I was familiar with the majority of the work from this album prior to its September release due to a variety of mixtapes and leaked singles, but not disappointed. Highlights include the MGMT/Ratatat collaboration - "Pursuit of Happiness," the super upbeat "Up Up and Away," the slick production of "Sky Might Fall," Lady GaGa playoff w/Ye and Common "Make Her Say" and "Soundtrack 2 My Life." Good debut, son--just maybe save some of your best for a surprise, next time around instead of leaking all the gems.
9 - Passion Pit - Manners
These dudes totally blind sighted me. I never had heard of them, and then suddenly one day, BAM! The blogosphere had suddenly blown up and this album was getting rave reviews left and right. It was a bit like the Dirty Projectors mania and I was so sick of reading and hearing about this group that I boycotted it at first. I have a love/hate relationship with the Dirty Projectors and who knows, maybe they'll find a spot on this list within two months from now, but unlike DP, I took a liking to Passion Pit's catchy, sped up falsetto party jams instantly. Tracks like "Sleepyhead," "The Reeling," "Little Secrets" and "Moths Wings" should be banned from all iPods & stereosystems immediately--they're so damned catchy they will never leave your head--seriously. An interesting blend of this and that, the closest I could come to initially describing this outfit was Instrumentation of The Arcade Fire meets Polyphonic Spree's happiness/feel goodness with a pinch of Architecture in Helsinki's cuteness/dance party if sung by the falsetto dudes from TV on the Radio (If they were white). Imagine that--but way better, and you have Passion Pit.
8 - Grizzly Bear - Veckatimest
I really don't want this album to wind up on my top 10 of the year. Why? Because it will be on EVERYONE'S top ten of '09. But whatever, it's a solid release and there's no denying it. While I dug some older Grizzly Bear, I can't say I ever fell super hard for them. I def got huge into Daniel Rossen's other thang late last year (Dept of Eagles), so I'm a sucker for his melodic vox--but GB was always one of those hype machines that I never really understood, but still, never really disliked either. I decided to hop on the Veckatimest bus, however, when the album initially leaked this past spring. Noone, and I mean noone, can deny that "Two Weeks" was the official summer jam of 2009. This melodic glee club charm, complete with probably my favorite video of the year, was a classic indie gem--and is one of my favorite tracks of the year. Other standout numbers included album opener "Southern Point," the eloquent sing along "All We Ask," the almost Beatles inspired track "Cheerleader," and the gorgeous "While You Wait for the Others." Ok, so now looking back at this album, I guess I'll just stick to the flocks and keep this one on the list--this album ain't hibernating from my rotation any time soon after all. . .
7 - Handsome Furs - Face Control
Dan and Alexei are not only the sexiest couple in rock'n'roll, but they're also the humblest, coolest and fucking nicest. I caught this duo live more times than I can count within the last year, touring their asses off in support of their latest release. Face Control is a collection of sexy, electroriffic, guitar thrashing, key pounding, dance jams. You can't really go wrong when your singer is 1/2 of the vocals from Canadian indie all-stars Wolf Parade, but kickass live shows aside, songs like the George Harrison-Got-My-Mind-Set-on-You-ish-party-jam "I'm Confused," sex dripping "Evangeline," immediate and pounding "Legal Tender," ridiculously catchy and fun "Talking Hotel Arbat Blues" and of course, the sing along "All We Want Baby, is Everything" will rock your goddamn face off. It's impossible to control, sorry dudes--you gotta keep your shit in check. The fact that these two hung with my drunk ass for a half hour at the Holy Fuck gig at the Empty Bottle this past June definitely ups my appreciation for them as peeps, but the fact that they keep coming back and rocking it hard sold me on their jams. CHECK THEM OUT.
6 - Andrew Bird - Noble Beast
What can I say about Chicago's very own multi-instrumentalist-sexy-whistlin' fiend Mr. Bird? A LOT. Bird has yet to release an album I haven't enjoyed immensely, and Noble Beast may be my favorite one yet. Call me a sucker for victrolas and strings, dapper young gentlemen in suits (whistling!), and honey-drippin' vocals. Dude makes my knees buckle whether he's singing about sociopaths or nomenclature. It doesn't matter, harmonies and orchestration are everywhere and everytime I pop in this Beast, I'm instantly transported to Jodi Happy Land--whether that's an effort to distract myself from cleaning my apartment floors, sipping a bloody mary mid-hangover after a rough night, or even temporarily forgetting I'm trapped in the confinements of cubicle hell at the nine-to-five. Why Noble Beast rules more than the last four records? Easy: "Fitz & Dizzyspells" (Seriously - that whistling breakdown!!!); "Oh No" (more whistling again, but gorgeous percussion); "Tenuousness" (that opening makes me feel like I'm on a trip somewhere, somewhere I've never been, and it's gonna be a really good trip); "Not a Robot, But a Ghost" (As if that song title isn't explanation enough, then maybe you should try giving this track a listen--b/c it gets better); "Anonanimal" (just nice on the ears, overall, really). As if all these weren't reason enough, Bird included a limited release of instrumental songs in addition called Useless Creatures. Pretttttttty. Did I mention I'm also in love with Andrew Bird? This helps secure a spot on any Jodi Countdown Ever.
5 - Yeah Yeah Yeahs - It's Blitz!
I hope I convince myself as an afterthought to bump this one up the countdown. I put together a pretty in-depth review together upon its initial spring release over at Muzzle of Bees which you can read here; and I don't think my thoughts have changed toooo much to date, except that it may have grown on me a bit more. Tracks like the electra ballad "Hysteric" and the vintage plugged in "Soft Shock" have now snuck ways into my heart, joining the likes of up-beat singles "Zero" and "Heads will Roll." Still, though, fave track is and remains "Dull Life" due to its likeness of both Fever to Tell and Show Your Bones swagger. I think I might have been a bit too harsh on It's Blitz! in the beginning, but only like those psycho pressuring high school football dads who are hard on their sons for not making it to the state championships--we expected more out of you, you're greater than that--but we still love you anyway. Plus, I now can't blame Karen O if her attention wasn't fully focused on YYY at the time, I'm pretty madly obsessed with her score for Where the Wild Things Are soundtrack, aka, the unofficial YYY side project, Karen O & the Kids. Kids = Nick Zinner, Brian Chase, Bradford Cox & a couple Raconteurs, not too shabby. But that's a different post. Moral of the story? Karen O is cooler than both you and me--oh and she's also really good at giving memorable birthday parties.
4 - YACHT - See Mystery Lights
Heard these guys here and there, before they were a duo and it was just Jona Bechtolt (who is my facebook friend to the end), and before the days Miss Claire L. Evans was on board. I knew Bechtolt's reputation preceded him as being "The Timbaland to Indie Beats," and I knew he was dope with the DFA crew. I dug The Summer Song EP, which dropped sometime late last year or early this one--and featured a pretty dancetastic remix of "Fell in Love with a Ripper," in addition to the aforementioned "Summer Song," which was Bechtolt's love song to fellow tourmates LCD Soundsystem. All history aside, this duo is A) Super fun amazing live, (I caught em both at Schubas this past March and again at the Empty Bottle a few weeks back), whipping out amazing audiovisual props, rad-as-fire dance moves, and hott male-female vocal/sexual energy; B) Again, extremely humble and personable--I met them at their merch table at Schuba's, again at the Bottle, but also not one week after the March show shoulder to shoulder in the crowd for Kanye's gig at Fader Fort in Austin--(not only did they remember me, but I got to boogie with them to the likes of College Dropout and Graduation--jealous?); C) Super cool in general--(evidence, interview w/MoB here). I guess the fact that their 10-song album was one of the biggest circular dance parties existing in my cd collection's entire history, let alone 2009, speaks volumes too. I will give you $5 if you can listen to "Psychic City," "The Afterlife," and/or "Ring the Bell" without involuntarily shaking your hips and breaking it down. Seriously. Electro-indie pop genius at its best, this duo rocks.
3 - P.O.S. - Never Better
I've always been a huge fan of the Minneapolis hip-hop scene since my clumsy midwestern whitegirl-self stumbled upon Atmosphere back in the God Loves Ugly days. Any member of the Rhymesayers family and Doomtree crew usually had their distinguishable mid-west thang down and I dug it hard. Last year it was Slug who topped my top list of 08, with When Life Gives You Lemons. . . , but now this year's honor is bestowed upon the intense, poetic rhyming skills of P.O.S.. Stef's performance with fellow Doomtree pals Mike Mictlan, Sims and Lazerbeak this past spring at Reggie's Live only upped my appreciation for his lyrical prose and intelligent swagger. I caught him a second time around in Austin, sandwiched between Eyedea & Abilities and Brother Ali for the Rhymesayer's SXSW set and a third round at Chicago's Bottom Lounge opening for Cursive. Each set was a different vibe, different demographic, yet Stef kept it real and put his best out for the people, never once faltering in his energy levels and determined intensity. Never Better is just that, a solid album with limited pauses or opportunities for improvement. Joints like "Savion Glover," "Purexed," "Goodbye," "Out of Category" and "Optimist (We are Not for Them)" keep his most recent effort flowing strong, and it definitely earned its high rank in my top ten this year.
2 - Animal Collective - Merriweather Post Pavilion
I'm a sucker for those gimmick experimental electronic flavors of the week, month, or in this case for me at least--year. I know AC's been around for a while, and in all honesty I didn't give one stink about them up until this past January when this album was released. Coincidentally, the same day I picked this record up, a friend asked me to take his free extra ticket off his hand to check em out live at the Metro. I remember clearly being on the fence about it, as I had a date the same night with some random stooge, and let me say this--best decision of the year. Random stooge = ancient history, Memory/Experience of this live set = Words cant really give justice. Let's just say the combination of the live crazy energy and intense light show, dreamy imagery and ecclectic equation of synths, chants, percussion and song were enough to blow any hipster's facebook status waaaaaay up with "I Like This" thumbs-ups. My mind was numb. And I hadn't even had a chance to give the album a full listen through yet.
Wow, this one is definitely a surprise. While I'm a fan of pretty much any relative of the Broken Social Scene extended fam, I've never considered myself a Metric superfan by any means. Sure, Emily Haines is pretty rad and yeah, their songs are darned catchy. But, this album hitting the number one spot was definitely a dark horse in the running. A friend of mine highly recommended the record to me on multiple occassions, but it wasn't until he handed me a physical burned copy that I really took him seriously. Where did this delectable electropop rock goddess come from? This glam soaked collection of sleek, sexy power pop songs is more than I can handle--but in a totally good way. Tracks like "Help, I'm Alive," "Gimme Sympathy," "Gold Guns Girls" and "Twilight Galaxy" are loud, soft, fast and slow--but all equally demanding of your listening pleasure. I still cannot put my finger on what set Fantasies apart from past Metric efforts, to be honest, and believe me I've tried. I think it honestly might have just been a combination of the right songs at the right time, and the right experiences with the right people. I happened to meet my best friend randomly outside of a bar this summer by offering up my extra free unspoken Metric ticket to their Chi gig at the Metro. Not only did she actually take me up on the offer, but the show itself was an incredible first date, and it's crazy to think I wouldn't have met her without Metric. So, yeah, that might have something to do with it--or maybe it's just a coincidence. Regardless, I really, really like this album.
im still not a playa but you still a hata
Yeah dudes, I’m weird. The best part is I haven’t heard that song in probably at least a good 5 or 6 years. Now here I am, in my sweats and pull-over high school football hoodie, watching my orange cat’s paw slide up underneath my door from the other side, desperately trying to get in somehow without my knowledge so she can slyly sneak to my lime garbage can and crinkle that damned ice cream cookie cellophane wrapper I keep forgetting to throw away in the kitchen trash.
Current soundtrack is ranging all over the board tonight—first it was old school Justin Timberlake, transitioning to some Cold War Kids and back again to some Pixies—it always comes back to the Pixies. I was listening to a bunch of their joints earlier this evening on my brown line commute home. Can’t wait to see them again, one month and 14 days, ya’ll. Saw them once in 2004 during their reunion tour at the same exact location I’ll see them five years later at, the Aragon. Strangest part there is instead of a four hour drive down; it’s now a twenty minute walk to this Uptown staple. Way to go me, I guess. (High five).
I did manage to escape Wisconsin and get to a bigger, louder place. Some days though, as much as I love this city of mine, I think to myself. What’s next? Where to? I gave Chicago a shot, made it happen—is it time to move onto the next chapter? New York maybe? Austin? Time to settle down and move it on up to Minneapolis? Probably not. . . Here I am, going into my fourth year and finally--fucking FINALLY, have a respectable social circle of friends, where if my one friend is busy on a Friday night, I’m not going to cry myself to sleep with a pint of Ben and jerry’s. Options, gang, options. But actually, the older I get and the colder fall gets, the more appealing that last situation sounds. . . Man, come on. This whole exercise of rambles is supposed to get my mind dancing on some certain topic that will inspire me to follow a random topic until something readable is produced. Instead my mind keeps wandering to that platter of freshly baked brownies I just whipped up in the kitchen. Treats! For the kids! At work! Oh man. Now I’m listening to Karen O and the Kids, the score for Where the Wild Things Are. I swear, it’s like my favorite band is a guest star on a children’s show—Yeah Yeah Yeahs meets Sesame Street. It fucking rules. Makes me happy, smile and wish I was playing kickball with kids or frolicking on a beach or something. It’s really climbing its way into my little soulless heart, maybe even my top ten for the year. Oh wait, there’s an idea to tackle. . .
Top ten of 2009 thus far. . . GO!
Monday, October 5, 2009
my own personal ad
Sometimes I wonder to myself how many men I’ve tentatively reserved my hand in marriage to in my life. I guess the contest of my eternity isn’t restricted to male competitors, come to think of it, I did recently wish aloud that I could be the one and only Mrs. Karen O; but down to brass tacks (what a dumb saying-did I even say that right?), I’m pretty sure I wasn’t serious with any of my wish list proposals. In the last week even, I think I’ve pondered my left ring finger’s possibilities to the likes of Andrew Bird, Andrew WK, both members of the Clipse, Elliott Smith’s corpse, the weird looking guy from Arcade Fire, Kevin Barnes and Kanye West alone. I know I’ve shared my lifelong ambition (at least since 2 weeks ago) of getting knocked up by Lil Wayne (even if that shit means I’m just poking holes in condom wrappers, the ultimate trickery), to at least 3 people.
Nobody seems to get that one, but don’t you see? It would be my golden ticket to babymamahood. My baby would have golden grillz, sweet face tats, and Lil Wayne doesn’t seem exactly to be hurting for cash (at least not with Birdman handing off million dollar packed Gucci cases for 26th birthdays), we’s the same age, he could make me laugh, and I wouldn’t give two shits with all the other bitches he’d be sticking it to. Plus, I’d probably get a sneak peek at any upcoming mixtapes and get free cds. That would be dope as hell. Who gives a crap if you can’t understand a word coming out of Weezy’s mouth? Not me, I still think it’s the ultimate goal of procreation. I don’t particularly want to be a mother or heave any puppies out of my lady bits, but fuck man, being able to link myself to the Martian for at least 18 years of my life would be hilarious to say the least. (If this plan doesn’t work, I really need to find a new job). One where I am distracted enough to not make plans of seducing (by force, if necessary); dirty little rappers in lieu of working for a respectable income.
Tricking rappers into making me babies aside, I wonder who else I’ve unknowingly promised my life to. I’m wracking my brain, struggling to remember who my first real crush was, who the first man I hopelessly sighed about when daydreaming, the first JRR + (xx) in pink glitter pen hearts. I know when I was 14; it was definitely Damon Albarn, a sexpot I’d still definitely bone today. Hey Blur reunion, get in my bedroom right now, you can come too, Graham Coxom and other two dudes whose names I don’t know, if you must. Oh, and then there were the days when MXPX and blink-182 rocked my world. Hahahahahaaha, sadly, those gents are probably much more likely to bed me than Dwayne Carter. I still remember being 17 and absolutely dumbfounded when I watched Good Charlotte and Mxpx rock the Rave in Milwaukee, having no idea what the VIP sticker the mysterious guy handed me meant, and why he said I was welcome back stage. It must have been my sexy punk rock safteypin torn up No Boundaries jeans I was rocking. Or my manic panic goopy pink highlighted hair. God I was cool, I think I need to rewind back to my senior year of high school style—at least then I could probably score at pop punk shows. But yeah, shit—who was the very first dreamboat? The original Mr. Jodi Robin Root. Was it a fellow Argyle Elementary student? Was it that kickass cartoon Grape Ape that rode around on top of cars? Was it Huey Lewis? (Def not the News, though--I always have had a weakness for Sports, since age 6, even.) Maybe I’ll never know who was the first, hell I’m having a hard time right now remembering who the last was.
I do know one thing though; I know I haven’t met whoever the last will be—or at least the next. I can’t even remember the last time I wrote my full name in cursive followed with a different last name other than my own—well, actually I can, it was when I thought I found my biological father and I was freaking the fuck out thinking my last name was actually going to be Goul. Can you imagine that? Jodi Robin Ghoul. That’s hott, right? Orrrrr not. Root ain’t so bad after all. I guess I’d probably marry Andy Samberg, he’s pretty kewl. Or Jake Ryan from Sixteen Candles, he was pretty hot, even for an 80s guy. I’m sure 20 years later he’s still driving that sweet ass red porsche around, making out with 16 year old red heads over lit birthday cakes. I’d wear an 80’s peach bridesmaid dress like molly ringwald’s if it meant I could tap that ass.
All bravado and bullshit aside, I don’t think I’m the type of person who really could get married. I run away at the slightest possibility of interest in me. I am probably the absolute worst person I know at accepting compliments or flattery. It grosses me out. Say something nice to me and I wince like you just busted a line of beer farts. Tell me I’m pretty and you’re a pervy creep. Try to see me more than 3 times and I’m already on the other side of the planet. How the hell I managed to have a boyfriend for nearly four years is beyond me, I guess it probably had something to do with the lack of gooey terms of endearment. Mike called me things like Jodes or Boobs (I do have a nice set), and that was as sweet as I let it get, but after a while we were pretty much like an 80 year old couple or brother and sister duo anyway. Other than him, though, damn, I think my record was in high school for the super glorious 18 months of Jodi and Keith back in 10th-11th grade. And boy, oh boy was I a Nazi control freak with that poor schmuck. Ha! But again, we set our LOVE on a mutual obsession with blink 182 and vans sneakers and our inabilities to balance on a skateboard.
Between my failed puppy love and attempt at adult romantic normalcy, I’ve teetered on verges of interest—random drunken make out seshes in college (both male and female, cuz c’mon, I was sooooo wacky and experimental), off and on sparks with summer Tommy Bartlett flings (letting people you work with see you naked is always a very, very AWESOME (read, horrible) and awkward idea—no matter how many jager bombs in and young and skinny you may be), a (very) small handful of sickening obsession crushes (that could never, never be because I’m just way too emo like that), and then just casual dates with boring dudes that liked me and made the fatal mistake of complimenting me.
I joke a lot saying I’ll just wind up a crazy cat lady—and really this might wind up being the truth since I’m already half there. It’s like I’m sickeningly obsessed with finding a boyfriend, but at the same time fighting like mother fucking hell against actually pursuing any chances or options that come my way. Plus, I sincerely believe that I enjoy the company of my orange tabby more than 85% of the people I know, gross, right? It’s like I’m the pickiest not picky at all person that ever existed.
Here is how you know you will pass the Jodi test of love. Do you:
A) Wear glasses? (Not sure why, but this helps).
B) Like Kanye West? (Not mandatory, but def again helps at least on the attraction front).
C) Like to read (AND/OR) write? (Dude’s gotta be intelligent or I’ll get really bored really fast—although any artistic form of creativity works (drawer, painter, musician, etc), just don’t be a boring tool).
D) Think I’m hilarious? (I’m not, so maybe its best that you don’t—we all know how the flattery thing works with me, but if you laugh secretly to yourself than you probably won’t want to punch me in the face as often as most people).
E) Are a bit of an asshole? (This can either be read as playing hard to get, or sadly, just being an overall dick—that whole girl thing of liking the assholes is sadly true, but if you’re not a jerkstore you can at least play it off by ignoring a couple of my phone calls).
F) Like cats? (But not LOVE them, b/c I’m the girl here and I have the be the one who’s REALLY into the cats, it’s just kind of weird if a dudes likes my Molly more than me, sorry).
G) Get a kick out of dance parties? (You don’t have to boogie down yourself, if checkin out tha hood internet ain’t yer thang, but c’mon drunken sexy dance parties are the best).
H) Are patient? (I’m sure as hell not, and at least one of us would need to be or we’d be at each other’s throats).
I) Spontaneous? (I hate people that plan way too much and are overly careful—even though I am myself, so maybe scratch this one—although I am pretty random and stubborn with last minute ideas (see, not waiting even a day for my friend to go get my cat skull and crossbones tattoo 2 weeks ago)
J) Like to make out? (I’m a liplocker whore. No excuses).
K) Ok with Hall&Oates? (Because if you’re not then you are not good in my book).
L) Drink? (Let’s face it; I’m not exactly sober these days.)
So, if you win on those answers, and are okay with me ever getting up and cheating on you at the drop of a dime with Lil Wayne to fulfill my lifelong aspiration of having his child (don’t worry I wouldn’t be his girlfriend or anything, just take his sperm and bone him—we could still go steady though afterwards and you could be lil Wayne’s baby’s stepdad), then maybe, just maybe, I’ll let you take me out more than 3 times and let you meet my mom—as long as you don’t fucking compliment me, that is.
Wow, did I just write my own personal ad? MATCH DOT COM EAT YER MUTHER FUCKING HEARTZ OUT.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)