Every few months, some trailer catches my eye and gives me hope for the future of movie watching. Sin City held that spot for some time, and to be completely honest, didn’t disappoint. I really enjoyed it and its over-the-topness. Now the beacons of hope are the Russian import Night Watch and the live action version of Aeon Flux. And I am happy to await the arrival of both.
I think today’s beautiful weather is perfect for car shopping, don’t you?
The Web Tek guys rock. And how about their client list?
Pretty sure that’s a great joke, but it’s almost as ghetto as my current crop of business cards. I’ve taken to just finding random business cards and defacing them. I’m such the professional. Maybe i’ll get real ones soon…
I have this thing… I adore live music, but I typically get bored halfway through shows. This isn’t the fault of the performers (most of the time)… there’s just a point during most gigs where I have ceased to be engaged by the music and I want to either sit down and talk with the musicians about artsy things and influences and gear or go home and play guitar and write. I’ve come to terms with this quirk.
Last night, Mute Math was on and off the stage in what felt like a few minutes of amazing, smart, tight musical beauty. Those few minutes were actually more like two hours. I didn’t get bored. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I just wanted them to keep playing.
Let’s back up and set the stage. Smith’s Olde Bar in Atlanta is what I would refer to as “my kind of venue” and, to be honest, I had forgotten how much I liked the vibe there. (I think the last show I saw there was John Mayer… when I was in college… and he wasn’t JOHN MAYER yet; he was just a dorky, pale Atlanta transplant with bad acoustic tone and decent chops). Smith’s is the kind of bar that has ruts in the stage where the front men of countless, mostly-forgotten bands have stood and sweated and played for little more than tab money and dirty south notoriety. Smith’s makes no apologies for being what it is… a small-ish, intimate, great place to see live music (and go home reaking of nicotine).
Opening… Mat Kearney. Note to Mat: what’s going on with the missing “T?” In other news, you have so much potential. I really do enjoy your album and your writing. You make me smile. And while I semi-understand the expense of bringing a band on the road and trying to make a living… YOU NEED A BAND. That being said, a decent opening set comprised of the rap/folk, punctuated by breaking two strings at two different times, being forced to play the back-up guitar, a Taylor with the ES system pickup (ES stands for “Eeeees a piece of crap”) and Mat muttering “stupid Taylor” and “I hate that guitar” under his breath. Technical malfunctions aside, the guy’s good… spot-on vocals, catchy tunes… he just needs a band (or at least another guitar player) to relay some of the dynamics that make his album work so well.
And with no pause in between sets… Muth Math. What the oh my dang. Here are a few pictures… but they don’t do the energy of the show any justice. I was four feet away from the stage and I couldn’t capture it. First off, let me just say that Geek Chic and collars are SO IN. There was much in the way of skinny ties on stage last night. There was also lo-fi gear (taped on headphones for the Animal-esque drummer Darren King) in abundance. And start to finish… it was a well-planned, well-performed show. The emotional and dynamic change was built into the set as much as the individual songs.
Somehow MM manages to remind me of The Police, Devo, new wave punk, Talking Heads, Earthsuit (sorry… I might be living in the past… but it’s there), british dub, british reggae, and everyone who’s ever used delay well… all at once, with a KEYTAR in tow (and in my face when Paul meany started dancing, rocking, and Keytaring on top of the subs in front of the stage) and with more starts and stops and sixteenth notes on the hi-hat than you can handle. They played most of the Reset EP (including a solo Rhodes Piano encore of OK), a lot of tasty material from the new album (slated for September), and, suprisingly, You Are Mine, a track from the Earthsuit to Macrosick to Mute Math transition period. And I just wanted them to keep playing.
Go see this band. Soon. Travel long distances. Sell valued possessions. Sell your grandma. Mame people if you must.
Tonight… Mute Math and Mat Kearney at Smith’s in Atl. Me, my camera, and rock.
I got a PO Box today. 262 in the house.
If you were to ask me who my favorite photographer was… who takes the photos that make me curse under my breath and then go make something because i’m inspired… 9 out of 10 times i’d say “Jeremy Cowart” and then i’d point you to Pixelgrazer or Velare Weddings or, even more recently, the amazingness of The March Sessions which make me say JEREMY, YOU ARE MY DAD.
Also, JCo’s headed to Africa with a wonderful organization called African Leadership, in part to “…capture on camera the mission and purpose of African Leadership and to capture a new, fresh perspective of the African people and their struggles, joys and day to day living.” You can help make this happen by giving support. Read all the details here and then be a part of something good and unselfish by being a sender.
Seeing Jason Mraz and band do their thing is quite enjoyable. I took a few hundred pics, so i’ll wade through them and post sometime soon. But to be honest, I was more captivated by something else last night… and no, it did not involve some cute blond girl in the corner, although there was one, and she had great tattoos and was completely disinterested in the proceedings.
I really can’t believe that I, an avowed unimpressed-with-Taylor Guitars guy, am about to say this… but Mraz’s new live rig is what’s for awesome. Welcome to the world of the new Taylor T-5, a beauty of an electric/acoustic guitar. This thing sounds pretty amazing… and I am King Skeptic about Taylors… i’ve only played one that I thought lived up to the hype and price tag. Granted, Mraz is a highly underrated player (always under control and in the pocket) but even with obviously mediocre acoustic players the T-5 seems to live in the sonic space I want to go and the potential versatility makes for a nice combo of sounds in one instrument.
I’m sold. But i’ll be curious to see how much they charge for the pleasure of owning one. My main complaint has always been how proud they are of their over-priced gear.
By semi-popular demand, here’s a three tune opening set from Carpenter’s Cellar a few weeks back. I apologize for the incoherent snappy onstage banter, though I can’t promise it won’t happen again, as I am a huge dork.
McD and I now have a nice little Pro Tools and room-full-of-gear set up at the house. If The 220 is rocking, don’t come a knocking. This means good things for you, faithful reader, because you will get first dibs at recordings and such. Speaking of recordings, I have MP3s of a three song set from a few weeks back. Anybody interested? Because really, it may ruin you… hearing my voice… the incessant snappy onstage banter… the dork-ness. You may never look at me the same.
In other unrelated news, By Designers For Designers has a blog.
I’ve been reading and researching a little this weekend about the process by which the new Pope is elected. There’s an interesting article here about the assumed front-runners and an article here about what happens in the mean time. Not being Catholic, it seems a bit odd to me that the people electing the next Pope (as nearly as I can tell, 124 voting Cardinals) were, for the most part, elected by the former Pope. Isn’t that a little like loading the deck?
Step 1: Choose the absolute worst angle to take headshots from. Ideally, this should be an angle that makes the nose appear at least twice it’s normal size. Get up-close. No, closer. Closer. Like pores-and-errant-hairs closer.
Step 2: Open Photoshop and proceed to “photoshop them” as you see fit.
Step 3: Post file to the interweb.
Step 4: Repeat the adage “Only truly beautiful people can make truly ugly faces” until the mantra is cemented as truth in your head and your ego comes home.
The end. Repeat as necessary.
Only completely not. After all, he’s not strange. Well… to clarify, he’s not strange in the strictest, number-one-beside-its-definition sense. I don’t mean “not previously unknown or unfamiliar,” because he is a known factor. He is, however, completely “out of the ordinary; unusual, and differing from the normal.” Whatever the semantics, I have a roommate again. 2/3 of the famed McWilsonShip residence are reunited under one roof. We thought it would be fun to have Wilson back, too, but I somehow doubt his wife would enjoy our persistent, unwavering, all-encompassing presence.
Too each their own.
About The Author
I'm a graphic designer and sometimes writer living in Anderson, South Carolina. I serve as the Design Director for NewSpring Church. I love Jesus, my wife, Levi's Jeans, good Tex-Mex, and 8oz glass bottle Coca-Cola Classic. On good days I love them roughly in that order. Email me.