Musings

• So last night I'm flipping channels and I come across a snippet of the CBS show, Cold Case. You know, the one with the blonde who looks like she's from Mars who solves old murder mysteries? Lots of people seem to think she's good looking, but I think she looks like a combination of that Versace woman and a duck. Mean-spiritedness aside, I'm flipping through and I stop here because they've got song lyrics written on a chalk board that they are trying to analyze, then one of the other cops says that the Elton John song "Daniel" was originally written with an extra verse and that nobody really knows that the song is really about Vietnam. Interesting if it's true.

• Last night as I microwaved some frozen Whole Foods corn I realized that I still don't like to use rounded-off microwave times. You know how everybody puts something in for 1:00 exactly or :30 seconds exactly? Why do people do that? I remember as far back as high school my dad poking fun at me because I put stuff for 1:13. Or 2:52. I always pick random numbers. I have no idea why - maybe it's because I'm totally insane.

• I am still waiting for the Bruins to prove it to me.

• I couldn't help but laugh when I opened the Globe this morning to find out that Meat Loaf's Bat Out of Hell III is coming out this week! That's right, THREE! Meaning there was actually a TWO! What? I also happened to catch "the making of" the original Bat Out of Hell album on VH1-Classic over the weekend, an album that got plenty of airplay from my parents while growing up. I'm so-so on that album - I do think "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad" is a damn great song, but "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" is bombastic, ridiculous and overplayed. The documentary was actually great, though. Like it or not, the Loaf worked hard.

• Saturday Night Live's best single performance of the season was the great Maya Rudolph portraying a local St. Louis singer who wins the opportunity to sing the national anthem at the World Series. I was absolutely rolling. I wish YouTube or NBC.com would put that up for people to see. Beck was the musical guest and the second song was spectacular. Beck was standing with a guitar while the rest of the band sat at a dinner table and played percussion using forks, spoons, knifes, plates and teacups - all while a puppet show of the entire band mimics what the real band was doing. I'm not Beck's biggest fan, but this was terrific. I'm sure this will be up on the web at some point soon. Has to be seen.

Last 10:
U2 - Wild Honey
Rolling Stones - Waiting On A Friend
Pete Droge - Hardest Thing To Do
Belle & Sebastian - If She Wants Me
Johnny Cash - Cocaine Blues
Built to Spill - Goin' Against Your Mind
The Cars - Double Life
Elliot Smith - Ballad of Big Nothing
The Decemberists - Eli, The Ballad Boy
The Figments - Provide, Provide

........We Salute You

As our bathroom renovation finishes up, I should share a story about one particular event that reaffirmed my faith in contractors and customer service.

Before I get to that, though, I should add that we purposefully made sure to completely avoid Home Depot during this project. We bought all of our materials through local merchants. I'm not some kind of crazy left-winger who boycotts retail stores or anything, either (although I will not shop at Wal-Mart. Ever). To the best of my knowledge, Home Depot doesn't exploit underage children in third world countries or anything. My problem with Home Depot resides solely in two camps: their horrendous customer service and the fact that it's a 20 minute ride vs. a 3 minute ride to the local, family-owned place.

Look no further than our kitchen renovation a couple of years ago when Steph and I went to Home Depot in Natick, MA to shop for kitchen fixtures. In examining a refrigerator we liked, we summoned an employee and asked a couple of questions and then we asked if we could see the back of the unit. His reply: "no." Simple as that. He didn't even give a reason and was unfriendly about it. It's safe to say we will never forget that moment in our entire lives. We've had quite a few other horrifying experiences with their people, but that one sticks out.

Now, let's swing the pendulum the other way. Since we have a pretty old house, whenever we do any kind of renovation, we have to bring the electricity up to code. Our old bathroom didn't even have an outlet in it, so the only thing in there was an overhead fan and a mirror/light unit on the wall. The electrician's job for this renovation was pretty simple and quick: add an outlet, add a light to the ceiling, remove the old mirror/light unit and replace it with two wall lights. All told, it took two visits, each taking about two hours of their time.

But here's the kicker: on the first visit, they said they would be at our house by 8am. We had used them before and they were usually spot-on in terms of punctuality. However, it got to be 9am so I called and in a very friendly manner, checked in with them. They said they had me on the schedule for 1pm. Not a problem for me, really, since I have the option to work at home, so I just told them to come at 1pm.

At about 10:30 - an hour-and-a-half after I spoke with them - came a knock on my door. Standing on my front step is the electrician. Not the one who's coming at 1pm, though. It's the owner of the company and he's begging for my forgiveness and apologizing profusely because of the scheduling error, saying they never like to inconvienence their customers like that and he wanted to personally come and apologize for it. He then came upstairs and took a look at the job and inspected the electrical box downstairs. Now that is service!

A few weeks later, I called to schedule the second part of the job (the finish) and had to leave a message. A few hours later I got a call back from the owner to schedule the job. Then he told me that he was in Disneyworld with his kids, but he wanted to get back to me quickly! How sad is it that this kind of customer service is now the exception to the norm these days?

So, kudos to Harland Electric. You've earned yourselves a customer for life.

This Is The End

Well, it's official. The world has gone to shit.

My Hypochondria Don't Want None.....

Stephanie likes to kid around that I'm a hypochondriac (wait - is she kidding?). The definition:

"A person with hypochondria is preoccupied with physical health and body. The diagnosis is used when a person for at least 6 months believes, fears or is convinced that he has a serious disease despite medical reassurance. This fear of disease or preoccupation with symptoms is unpleasant, interferes with the patient's daily life in a negative way and leads to medical examinations and/or treatment. The patient can only temporarily accept assurance that there is no physical explanation to his symptoms."

I don't know. Some of this is probably true, but my case is not nearly as dramatic as the definition. For example, it doesn't really interfere with my daily life and I'm not a serial visitor to the doctor. Once-a-year physicals are plenty. That said, I readily admit that I'm prone to believing that I might have a serious disease if I get, say, a headache (brain tumor). Or a stomach ache (appendicicits). Always been that way and the two recent deaths of people I know don't help things. Even back in high school, when I played on a team each autumn made up of various local high school players, I remember Dan McNabb, a funny guy who played for St. Bernard's and Joe Lisio, who played for North Middlesex, asking me before every game how my heart was because I had told them previously that I had some pain in my left shoulder - sometimes a symptom of heart attack. I bet if I saw McNabb today he'd ask me how my heart is. I wonder what those guys are up to these days.....

My grandfather was much worse than I was with this stuff. I don't know specific details, but I do believe he'd go to the hospital on occasion and insist he was ill or suffering and needed surgery. They would test him, turn him around and send him home with no diagnosed problems. Now that is what I call "interfering with daily life!" And god forbid you ever asked him how he was doing! You'd get a fairly detailed diatribe, complete with information that was totally unnecessary. If I ever do that to anyone, stab me with a fork.

How do you handle such things?

The Association

I recently upgraded my ITunes player to a newer version and after a couple of weeks, realized that I hadn't been hearing certain music. It didn't take long to put two and two together: for some odd reason, when the upgrade occured, it removed all artists from my library that started with the letters "Be." The Beastie Boys, Beck, The Beatles, The Beau Brummels, Belle & Sebastian, Ben Folds Five, Ben Kweller, Beachwood Sparks.....all gone. Had to re-rip. Odd.

Which reminds me of a brief story that Frank Padellaro from King Radio told me back in the late 1990's. Apparantly the Beau Brummels, a 1960s rock band, gave themselves that name because they thought it would be advantageous for them to be filed directly next to The Beatles in the record bins. With more people looking at Beatles records, there was more of a chance they'd look at the Beau Brummels record and maybe give it a shot. Clever! About a week later, it dawned on me that Frank might have named the band King Radio because he wanted to be filed next to The Kinks. While never confirming it, he certainly didn't deny it!

Which begs the question: if you had a band of your own, which band would you want to be filed next to and what would it be called?

That Suit Will Be Around Wherever You're Goin'

The best TV station ever, VH1-Classic is on a roll right now. Over the weekend and throughout this week they've been running a series they're calling "BBC Crown Jewels," a collection of in-studio concerts aired on the famed British TV channel. If you grab a look, you can see some terrific old Tom Petty footage, a young AC/DC featuring Bon Scott, Lynryd Skynyrd in their prime and The Police in their formative years. Naturally, I Tivo'd them all and I'm working my way through them now.

However, one of the shows thus far has completely lapped the field. The Faces are one of those bands that never generated the commercial sales to really sustain themselves, but their influence is still undoubtedly felt today. Led by a young Rod Stewart, this was an all-star lineup - Ron Wood, Kenny Jones, Ian McLagan and Ronnie Lane also were members, making for a murderers row of ragged, fuzzy and crisp 1970s rock that would sound timely on the radio today, as bands like Jet and Kings of Leon have proved in the past year and as bands like The Black Crowes proved in the '80s and '90s. The Faces are the foundation of that sound, rarely duplicated.

The footage that VH1-Classic aired this weekend was from a BBC show called "Sounds For Saturday" and the band is so tight and so good that I found myself in both awe and shame, the latter for having not seen this great, rare footage until now. For those of you who only think about Rod Stewart in his current, post-1975 state (see: utter schlock), you're in for a mighty surprise, for Rod was an absolute powerhouse prior to that and this footage bears it out.

Mildly unshaven and definitely unsober, Stewart's showmanship and endless energy abound here. The band is clearly having a blast and it doesn't matter if they're drunk - they're professionals and they can play this stuff fast asleep better than 95% of bands can while they're awake. The whole hour was so.....concise and dominating. They even took "Maybe I'm Amazed," spit all over it, and turned it into their song, undressing the shine McCartney put on it and adding their trademark ragged approach. Totally works. They then follow that up with Ike & Tina Turner's "Turn Me On!" And so on.....and so on. Just marvelous stuff.

Of course, Ron Wood went on to join the Rolling Stones, Kenny Jones joined The Who, Ronnie Lane had a decent solo career and Ian McLagan played with everybody: Springsteen, Dylan, Jackson Browne and many more.

If you want a much better sense of what the The Faces were all about, check out this GooTube video from this show for the slightly overplayed, but kick-ass "Stay With Me." I think you'll get the gist. I've been a longtime fan of The Faces and never even knew this show existed, so thanks VH1-Classic. It will not be erased from my DVR anytime soon.

Work On The Swing

Goodness. Last night's NLCS Game 7 was a doozy. I don't need to go into details other than to say that Carlos Beltran must feel like total shit this morning. Granted, I've never been at the plate to see a major league curveball - and by golly, that was a MAJOR LEAGUE curveball Adam Wainwright threw - but in the bottom of the 9th inning with two strikes, two outs and the bases loaded, you gotta at least swing the bat! Don't go down looking at strike three to end the season, man! So the weaker of the two teams makes the World Series. I'm still with the Tigers. Oh - and that catch by Endy Chavez in the 6th inning? You won't find one better in any October.

I typically don't wax about work in these parts, but I'm looking to hire someone to work under me (oh, lord) so I thought I'd put it here in case any readers know someone in the Bay Area or NYC who might fit the bill. You'd be working for Ask.com, but with a focus on our portal business, an offering/mashup which includes many of the IAC businesses (our parent company) among many, many others. The position would be quite entrepreneurial, but I'll let the job description do the talking, which is here. There you go.

Last ten:
James Gang - The Bomber (live in Cleveland, 8-16-06)
Racontuers - Call It A Day
Howlin Wolf - In The Groove
Neil Young - When God Made Me
Palace - The Mountain Low
Gomez - Make No Sound
Queen - All Dead, All Dead
Alison Krauss - Down To The River & Pray
R.E.M. - Perfect Circle
Richard Thompson - Two Left Feet

....and not that anyone cares, but if you want up to the minute info on what I'm listening to, my Last.FM page will show you. Neat service.

Ghosts Of Our Past

Ghost #1: you thought the Bill Buckner story was over, didn't you? Well, you are wrong. Funny and wierd. Enjoy.

Ghost #2: For those of us who grew up in Central Massachusetts, I think it must have been the law that you had to go to Whalom Park once in your childhood. Even back in the '70s and '80s, Whalom was a creaky, rattling, old-school relic of an amusement park. Yet it was still a bit of an institution, noted for its wooden roller coaster, The Comet, which apparantly used to shake like the dickens when you rode it, adding another piece of fright into the roller coaster equation. I never rode it, myself. Frankly, amusement parks and roller coasters scare the living hell out of me. Anyplace where you strap yourself into something and get thrown around in an attempt to defy the laws of speed and gravity is not something that's listed in my book of fun.

Whalom's been closed down now for ten or fifteen years, driven out of business by the big business parks around here, really no different than the way the Wal-Mart's and Home Depot's have invaded our space, uncerimoniously sucking the life and community out of our souls. But in order to get to-and-from my sister's house, I have to drive right by Whalom, where you can see that old wooden roller coaster in the foreground and nothing but sky and space behind it. It hovers over the road like an old spirit. Why I always feel a sense of comfort when I drive by there is totally beyond me. Again, I only went there once. I'm guessing my parents may have gone there more? But driving by it each time, I'm thinking it fuels a feeling I have and probably all of us have from time to time - a tinge of longing for a more innocent time, or another shot at childhood to right some wrongs, or to feel what it is like again to not have a smidge of real responsibility resting on my shoulders. I don't miss the park, I miss what it represents.

Unbeknownst to me, this past Sunday was the last time I will see it, as its physical demise is finally upon us. The shaking, shambling, rotting roller coaster is already gone. You probably don't need to even check the story to see what they're replacing it with. That's right........condos. Tell me something, when our children are adults, what will they drive by to get that sense of innocence and comfort? Subdivisions? I don't know.

I Wanna Tear Your World Apart!

Last night at 12:25am I was driving home from my hockey game (game time: 10:40!) and, as usual, the Ipod was a-shufflin.' So after Otis Redding's "Scratch My Back" finished, on came The Rolling Stones "Heartbreaker," which happens to be one of my favorites by the band. Lyrics aside, there's something terribly ominous going on in those opening riffs and by the time those frantic horns come in at the two-minute mark, you realize that the music itself is riding sidecar with the lyrics, both destructive, emotive, desperate. A very underrated song.

So it got me thinking about a couple of things:

a) how sad it is that the Stones are desecrating their legacy by continuing to release albums. Sure, there are undoubtable high points on recent albums. Even "Dirty Work" (1986) had "One Hit to the Body," but by-and-large, the Stones are now just a cartoon and with each release, the great vs. mediocre scale keeps slowly tipping to the mediocre side.

b) how it could be that the Stones have the gold medal standard for four consecutive unbelievable pieces of work. Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers and Exile on Main Street may be the best four consecutive albums ever released in the rock realm.

I'm having a hard time even coming up with a comparison. But here's a couple that might deserve medals:

Pavement:
Slanted & Enchanted
Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain
Wowee Zowee
Brighten the Corners

The Kinks:
Village Green Preservation Society
Arthur
Lola vs. the Powerman
Muswell Hillbillies

Any more you'd like to add?

It's A Sad & Beautiful World

After getting home last night from a weekend away, I was very much looking forward to settling in with the Sunday Boston Globe, a ritual usually blocked off for Sunday mornings, but timeshifted this weekend due to a trip up to Squam Lake, NH, whose trees currently boast an absolute color explosion that is wonderous to the eye. As with each autumn, this area of the world provides a spectacular encore to the summer and as the curtain comes down on the warm season, we're left with our annual slow march towards.....heating oil. And introspection. And the Scud Mountain Boys.

But let's focus on introspection for a minute. The Ideas section of the paper yesterday ran a mid-sized article about a British film called "49 Up," part of a series which is exploring the happiness of specific Brits, all of whom are 49 years old and whose lives have been documented since the age of 7. The series is focused on the British class-system and how happiness results from class (or vice versa). Something tells me that Ray Davies is watching this series closely, but I digress.

The film also focuses on, of course, money. The gist appears to be that the higher/upper class citizens are making better decisions in all aspects of life, because they are in position to do so and because they have options. But it also finds that money has little to do with happiness, a subject I just discussed with a friend this week over lunch, and one I seem to be struggling with more and more as 1971 goes further and further away.

I mentioned some time ago that I was paying cash for a bathroom renovation. I guess I have options. But you know what - I'll still be standing under the very same water that came down on me in the old bathroom. So will I be happier that it's a different, more shiny showerhead? I dunno. And why do I think about it? Would I be happier (or just as happy) if I was making less money, but loving work? (note: I don't hate my job. I just don't know many people who LOVE their job)

Then, in a bit of unintentional irony, I found some intervention in, of all things, Grey's Anatomy. Lost in all the sex, break-ups, hook-ups and gore of that show was a 30-to-45 second passage where one doctor is so wrapped up in himself and his personal plight(s) that he can't seem to ease the mind of a burn victim and his wife. He literally goes silent and can't address their grave concerns. Suddenly, there stands another doctor, a usually abrasive woman who is beginning to see the light. She spouts off a speech about nothing else mattering except the companionship and support of the people you love and the people who love you. Money and physical scarring don't matter, in the end. Whether or not your head is burned, you are the same person.

So while the article is definitely an interesting read, it seems to leave that one important piece out of the equation. Equating happiness with class is probably too simple a comparison.

Last 10:
Scud Mountain Boys - "Lift Me Up"
Billie Holiday - "A Fine Romance"
The Flying Burrito Brothers - "Sin City"
Alice in Chains - "Down In A Hole"
Bob Dylan - "Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues"
The New Pornographers - "The Bones of an Idol"
Temple of the Dog - "Times of Trouble"
Clarence "Frogman" Henry - "Ain't Got A Home"
Neil Young - "Out on the Weekend"
Jefferson Airplane - "Volunteers"

Recycle

Recycle
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

It looks like a cleverly designed CD, doesn't it? It's not. It's actually part of a set of sweet drink coasters I recently purchased and will use upstairs in my office on my new desk. They're actually the middle part of old vinyl records, encased in thick laminate. This particular one is The Rascals Greatest Hits; the set also contained Rod Stewart's "Foot Loose & Fancy Free," Jonnie Taylor's "Wall To Wall," Poco's "Deliverin'," Keith Jarrett's "Koln Concert" and something called "Sing Unto The Lord" by the Garden State Choir Of New Jersey. I didn't buy them for the artists, I bought them because they look retro-sweet.

I got them at the relatively new Dunia, a recently-opened downtown store here in Maynard which sells enviromentally friendly, recycled, fair-trade and cruelty free stuff. I've mentioned this several times before, but it's so strange to see Maynard transform from what it used to be into something completely different.

By the way, you can find those coasters, among other creations made from old vinyl records, at Vinlyux.

The Bells Ring, The Whistles Blow.....

If you've come here regularly enough over the years, you know that I have a little bit of man love for both Jay Farrar & Anders Parker. Both of them have provided some of my favorite music over the last 10-15 years, so when I heard last spring that they were actually recording an album together, well, that sent me over the edge a little. I can't really think of a better combination. That being said, in order to not burn out on either artist, since the month of June I've had them (and their previous bands) off the IPod.

Today I hit the Jay Farrar site for a general check-in and found that they have posted one of the songs from the upcoming album, which is due out October 31st. "Death's Black Train" has got me absolutely beside myself with anticipation for this album now. The song is just terrific. Do yourself a favor: take three minutes for yourself and give it a listen. You don't even have to download anything, all you need to do is click that link and it'll kick in. Just do it - I really, honestly think that no matter who you are or how old you are, you'll find something to like in this song.

You Can't Sell That Stuff To Me

What a day in business & entertainment!

• Tower Records is officially dead. I'll gladly take Neil Young's advice - don't cry no tears. Good riddance, really. By the time Tower got to the east coast, it was in its waning years anyway, so I never really fell for it the way Lefsetz did. Maybe they'd still be around if they catered to the customers instead of their own pockets. I went in once or twice when they opened in Harvard Square, more out of curiousity than any desire to spend. I never went back and I don't think I ever purchased anything from a Tower. Ever. Oh shit. I lied - I just checked my Quicken file and I purchased something there for $14.59 on September 19, 1999. But that's it! Hell, Newbury Comics was right across the street anyway - if I wasn't getting a record for free via friends, that's where I was buying stuff: a place with a personality and a $10.99 CD. Not $18.99. Ah well. Personally I have no idea how Tower even made it this far - they limped around like an alley cat with a broken leg for years and the internet has put it out of its misery. Good. By the way, the only other Tower in my Quicken file is "Tower of London" from our trip earlier this year.
  

• Google bought YouTube. This is either a stroke of genius or broadcast.com, part deux. Not sure yet. There's plenty of speculation around the blogosphere and everyone has their own opinion, of course. My gut: this will not be broadcast.com. This is a very powerful combination. In fact, Google's spit-shine brand perception out there only makes new-kid-on-the-block You Tube even more hip in the kids eyes. Provided Google doesn't mess with the vibe at You Tube, this is big. However, this will be the first time that Google has their hands in something that isn't GOOGLE. Keeping it branded YouTube will present challenges. What raised my eyebrows was that on the analyst call, Google were asked the following: "What did you use to value this acquisition?" The answer: "We modeled this on a "synergistic model." Uh-oh. That sounds very 2000.

• This story has nothing to do with business or entertainment, but it does remind me of a time in college when me and a friend tried to drive in reverse about a mile-and-a-half to the grocery store. We almost made it, too.
  

I Can See You're Out Of Aces

Kenny Rogers
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

Putting aside the obvious delight us Red Sox fans see in what is becoming a welcome and regular sight - the Yankees losing in the playoffs - Friday night's Tigers-Yankees game was one of those playoff games. You know, the ones you'll still be talking about ten years from now, the same way true baseball fans remember Randy Johnson coming in for Seattle to whiff Wade Boggs in '95. The same way we remember Tony Womack's double for the Diamondbacks in the '01 World Series (Luis Gonzalez won it, but Womack's double was the key). This one will survive time.

You have 41 year-old Kenny Rogers, a very serviceable pitcher whose career ERA against the Yankees was like 234 or something. Suddenly, on this night, he becomes Sandy Koufax, dropping 12-to-6 curves and locating his fastball with pinpoint precision. The Yankees were simply befuddled, falling victim 8 times to strikeouts, managing just five hits and get this - they never even reached second base. This game was Kenny Rogers World Series.

The normally calm Rogers (with the exception of that strange cameraman incident last season) was a completely different person on the mound. Physically demonstrative, he was arm-pumping and chest-thumping all night. With every throw back from the catcher, he'd SNAP his glove on the ball. With every big strikeout or important out, Rogers wouldn't just yell, he'd scream. It was like his little version of Plastic Ono Band. I was half-expecting him to scream "I don't believe...in YANKEES!"

All said, the next day Jeremy Bonderman turned in a beauty of his own and the Yankees are gone, just like that. Tuesday, the Tigers turn their attention to Oakland, and my only worry there is that it will feel less like the playoffs for the young Tigers and more like a hangover, after the emotion of the weekend.

This is why I don't miss playoff baseball games.

Hmmmm

Hmmmm
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

This is the eve of the 2006-2007 Boston Bruins hockey season. As I mentioned earlier this week, at this point I'm waiting for the locals to prove to me that they mean it with this team. I'm slightly uncomfortable, however, with the choice of coach, for reasons expressed to the right here.......I mean, can't the guy shave? Knowing the humor of hockey players, you know there's already got to be some nicknames floating around.

Cleaning The Lint Out Of My Pockets.....

Spare change:

• Have been downloading TONS of live music from both the Live Music Archive and from Dime A Dozen. The former is all MP3's, while the latter has the far better selection and a stunning amount of live music, but many extra steps to convert the format to MP3. So far, it's worth the extra work and time involved, as I've found live shows from Dramarama, The Byrds, Drive-ByTruckers, The James Gang, The Racontuers and Nada Surf, among dozens of others. It's overwhelming scrolling through - get this - 13,000+ live recordings.

• Caught the Tigers-Yankees game last night. I'm firmly on the Tigers bandwagon for the postseason, as their story is the best baseball story since the Red Sox won it in 2004 and I'm always a sucker for the underdog anyway. The Yankees did their typical wash job last night and I don't expect the Tigers to get out of this series victorious, but it would be nice to see them make a series out of it. It's certainly possible. If they falter, I'll root for the Dodgers.

• The Tommy Lasorda commercials are pretty damn funny. He's trying to console fans of teams who didn't make the playoffs. My favorite? Him trying to get Cleveland Indians fans to come out of their kitchen cabinets and watch the playoffs with him. You know that when they were doing concepts for this, someone had the idea of putting them in closets instead of cabinets. The Red Sox one isn't as funny, but it's still decent.
  

• I'm not yet totally sold on Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip yet, but so far I'm enjoying it. The similarities to The West Wing are painfully obvious. It's the same show with a different setting. I totally burned out on The West Wing after watching just one season, but I'm clearly in the minority on that one. I know this: it's the best show to come out yet with a Friends character in it.

• NBC's "The Office" is like a 25 year-old five tool baseball player right now - they are hitting it on ALL cylinders.
  

• Julia-Louis Dreyfus deserves every accolade she's getting for her show, "The New Adventures of Old Christine." It's a straight-ahead, purely formulaic sitcom, laugh tracks and all, but I keep watching because once or twice a week she makes me laugh out loud. Good medicine.

• In cruising through some Todd Rundgren shows I found on Dime A Dozen, I was psyched to see he still plays a lot of the tunes from his seminal 1970s work Something/Anything live. Regulars appear to be "Black Maria," (one of my faves), "Slut" and I even saw "Piss Aaron" once. I bet it's worth the trip to see him live (and NOT with the New Cars).

• The Bruins only have 5 guys on the current team from their opening night roster last season. I have but one thing to say at this point about the Bruins: prove it to me.

• Steph and I were both kind of embarassed that we couldn't remember the name of the song for our first dance at our wedding. We both know it was Billie Holliday and I know what album we pulled it from, but neither of us can remember the name of the song. In looking at the CD, I know now that it was "The Very Thought Of You." Do you remember your wedding song?
  

You Wait For August, Then You Wait For May

Built to Spill
Originally uploaded by rustedrobot.

They took the stage at Avalon last night as inconspicuously as a band on their first tour, as if playing in front of seven people at a local bar. The fact that most of them these days look like roadies certanily enhanced the effect. So they went about their business: twiddled knobs, adjusted tunings, tested drums, tapped on microphones and readied the laptop. Yes, laptops are almost standard fare for bands these days!

Then, with no warning and mere minutes after the previous band had ended their set, the lights went down and the "roadies" simply started playing, launching headlong into the eight minute thrill ride of "Goin' Against Your Mind" the first track from their terrific new album. It took all of five seconds before you knew this wasn't a mere collection of ragtag roadies. This was Built To Spill, looking like they'd just spent the last six months in the Ozarks, without razors. The show opener was sprawling and classic Built to Spill: the initial two minutes an instrumental crescendo which built up to frontman Doug Martsch's slightly epileptic, nasally delivered vocals and the rest of the band banging and noodling. From there the band rode the loud-soft wave as strongly and convincingly as they ever have through many chestnuts like "Untrustable" and "Mess With Time." This would be the second time in two weeks that I witnessed a three-guitar aural assault in this venue.

The now heavily-bearded Martsch worked his usual guitar magic all night and although his admiration for the artwork projected on the wall behind him sometimes felt like it was distracting him, it didn't interfere with how good the band sounded. Like Crazy Horse on crystal-meth, it all built up to two real high points:

a) the tight, crisp and astounding "Conventional Wisdom," which clearly showed that Built to Spill's new material ranks right up there with their '90s output (listen here). The song itself boasts instantly memorable high-pitched guitar work, but the way they stretched it out at the end was spectacular - not too long where it meandered aimlessly and not short enough where it left you wanting more. In my mind, it was the show's absolute peak.

b) Three words: Carry the Zero.

As with any show, there were imperfections as well. I have been playing their new record a hell of a lot lately and last night's set list only contained three of the new songs. Of course, with a back-catalog like thiers, it totally dulled the disappointment, but I was longing to hear "Liar," "Gone" and especially "Wherever You Go."

The last song was the oft-played "Randy Described Eternity" which was terrific as usual, but then they tacked on - I kid you not - an extra 30 minutes to the song, filled with drenching, overwhelming and eventually boring and needless drifting by the band - it emptied out nearly half of the packed room and as each minute passed, it was like picking a scab, over and over again. Case in point: during the last fifteen minutes of the song, the drums were actually being disassembled and packed away for their next show, to the point where . Yet it still went on.....and on. A small price to pay for a dominant performance.