Vol.

1, Issue 1, Winter 2007



FEATURE ARTICLES
Speaking Out In Class.........page 6
Brian Lenz ‘07
Jon Appleton Interview......page 18
Brian Lenz ‘07 & Tim Bakke ‘07

Editors’ Picks............................page 3

Editorials..................................page 9

Editor-in-Chief 2006 ALBUM REVIEWS...............page 12

Executive Editor RETROSPECTIVES

Yo La Tengo......................page 21
Lloyd Miller ‘10
Managing Editor
Pet Sounds.......................page 22
Layout Maggie Severns-O’Neill ‘08

Genre Editors
Caleb Ballou Reggae 2006 MUSIC FESTIVALS
Andrew Berry Indie Lollapalooza....................page 23
Abdallah Chammas Rap/Hip-Hop Lindsey Wolf ‘08
Bart McGuire Indie
Scott Muir Jam All Good...........................page 25
Caleb Powers Jazz
Mike Selvin DJ/House Scott Muir ‘08
Greg Sirois General Rock
Jen Swanda Country/Bluegrass Bonnaroo........................page 27
Contributors Molly Caldwell ‘09
Leon Chang, Maggie Severns-O’Neill, Ryan
Chesley, Andrew Bailey, Emily Weisburst, Lindsey
Wolf, Carlton Frost VI, Chris Symeonides, Gregory Wakken...........................page 29
Dona, Samuel Kohn, Joseph Hilgard, Noah Hall, Ryan Chesley ‘06
Henrik Bliddal, Alex Howe, Molly Caldwell,
Aimee Pritchard, Maryanna Brown, Lauren Miller,
Lloyd Miller, Max Bryer, Mark Davenport Venue Guide............................page 32
Faculty Advisor Scott Muir ‘08
George Edmondson
Squeezebox Music Magazine exists to pursue musical discourse
via the open discussion, critique, and academic appreciation We Are Scientists Live...............page 34
of music of all genres and backgrounds and their respective Maryanna Brown ‘08
compositions and concerts, to expose the Dartmouth
Community to new musicians, past and present, and to
disseminate information concerning new musical releases The Crystal Method Live...........page 35
and upcoming concerts/events of note both in the general
Northeast and on the College campus. Mike Selvin ‘07
The opinions printed within are those of the authors and
do not represent those of Dartmouth College.

The Harder They Come
Soundtrack
1972
My general perception of movie
soundtracks is that they contain one or
two solid tracks, and the rest is often
total crap. In the case of The Harder They
Come, this idea couldn’t be more wrong.
My familiarity with Jamaican music
isn’t exceptional by any standards, but
I’ve heard my fair share, and The Harder
They Come may be the best. The album
features songs by reggae legend and star
of the film, Jimmy Cliff. Accompanying
Jimmy Cliff on this masterful reggae, Ska,
rocksteady, and vocal trio compilation are
Let It Be
The Replacements
1984
Let It Be, The Replacements’ career-
defining LP of 1984, represents some of
the best that the post-punk/alternative
scene had to offer. This is a coming of
age record, both artistically and lyrically.
Songs like “We’re Coming Out” and “Seen
Your Video” are hard-hitting, piss-off-the-
neighbors garage-rock ragers that cater
to the quartet’s punk roots. However,
these songs, while a great listen, are
less memorable than the five tracks that
make this album a landmark and one of
fellow heroes of Jamaican music, Toots
and the Maytals, Desmond Dekker, The
Slickers, The Melodians, and Scotty. The
movie, in which the soundtrack plays
a major role, tells the tragic tale of a
renegade singer trying to make it in the
Kingston music scene that is completely
controlled by a few wealthy men. Without
its extraordinary soundtrack, the movie
would be difficult to sit through, so I
suggest you bypass the movie and proceed
straight to its heart. Each song is a classic
and the soundtrack is a must-have for
anyone with even remote interest in the
music of Jamaica.
Executive Editor
the best albums of the 1980s. These five
tracks see The Replacements expanding
their range of musical samplings, and
they mark the maturation of the band as
artists. Their treatment of issues familiar
to the punk movement, like angst and
teenage rage, with new musical styles
and experiments is wildly successful. “I
Will Dare” captures the excitement and
uncertainty of an adolescent infatuation
in a jaunting, melodic rocker, graced by
the fantastic guitar work of R.E.M.’s Pete
Buck. “Androgynous” may not sound like
it, but it is a subversive pop ballad about
social dislocation that is as insightful as
it is witty. “Sixteen Blue,” “Answering
Machine,” and most notably “Unsatisfied,”
are ridden with such expressive, heart-
wrenching angst and frustration that
they make you squirm uncomfortably
in your seat, but reach to crank up the
volume at the same time. All in all, The
Replacements, aided by Paul Westerberg’s
Gulag Orkestar
Beirut
2006
To dispel any unnecessary speculation,
Beirut (Zach Condon) is a 19-year-old
resident of Brooklyn. And though his
alias may belie his origins, his debut
album Gulag Orkestar merits its orphic
title. From the opening brass trills of
the title track, Condon creates an Old
World aura that is only enhanced as the
album progresses. His unique instrument
ensemble, consisting of tambourines,
accordions, congas, trumpets, organs,
ukeleles, and mandolins, beautifully
blends together to form a rich, layered
melody. Yet the instrumentation is
surpassed by the album’s real highlight
- Condon’s poignantly mournful vocals. It
is his lilting baritone voice, with a power
reminiscent of Morrissey’s, that completes
our aural experience, providing a delicate
counterpart to the grandness of the
instrumental backdrop. By fusing indie-
rock sensibilities and Eastern European
influences, Beirut provides us with an
album that oozes pathos. While those
Neutral Milk comparisons that everyone
is making are probably premature, there is
certainly some truth in them, so the next
time you feel like escaping or wallowing,
give Beirut a listen.
Managing Editor
burgeoning talent as a songwriter,
managed to bottle the essence of an angry
suburban teenager in a mere 5 tracks.
Listening to the record, you get a tense,
uneasy feeling in your chest, as emotions
from your adolescence come rushing over
you. These moments are measured by the
album’s harder-rocking but less thoughtful
tracks, creating a blend of sound that
celebrates youth as much as it struggles
with it. Inevitably, The Replacements will
never sound this good again, as they move
further away from the harder edged stuff
that make Let It Be such an invigorating
listen.
Editor-in-Chief

Annual moe. fall northeast run:
10/6-7@Hampton Beach Casino
Ballroom, Hampton Beach, NH
10/9-10@Higher Ground Ballroom,
Burlington, VT
10/14@Palace Theatre in Albany, NY
Over the past 15 years, moe. has
evolved from its humble beginnings
at the University of Buffalo into being
the Northeast’s premier rock jamband.
They have become increasingly eclectic,
blending a wide variety of genres
and influences into a unique sound
saturated with their unique personality.
In the process, moe. has developed a
large and extremely dedicated national
fan base with many fans traveling great
distances to see several performances at
a time. The band shows its appreciation
by practicing relentlessly in order to
provide a different, largely improvised
show every night, typically playing
5-8 songs during each of 2 sets lasting
at least an hour. moe.’s hard work
has paid off, as the band has played
at two of the five Bonnaroo festivals
and headlines both the Summer Camp
festival and its own festivals, moe.
down and snoe.down, annually. Since
the inaugural Jammy Awards in 2000,
moe. has taken home ‘Live Performance
of the Year’ awards twice, as well as
honors for ‘Best Studio Album’ for
Wormwood (2003) and ‘Best Live Album’
for L (2000). They have shared the
stage with the Allman Brothers Band,
Dave Matthews Band, Sam Bush, John
Medeski, Trey Anastasio, John Popper,
Keller Williams, and many more. After
a busy September including moe.down
7, and a thorough tour of the west
coast and a handful of gigs opening for
The Who in the Midwest, moe. made
its traditional fall run through the
northeast, making 5 stops within two
hours of campus. The two-night run
at the beautiful and intimate Higher
Ground Ballroom was particularly
special. Later, moe. played two nights at
the Chicago Theatre over Thanksgiving
weekend and New Year’s Eve at Radio
City Music Hall. I suggest checking out
the bootlegs.
Jam Editor
The Polyphonic Spree
2000-present
Indie Co-Editor
The Polyphonic Spree sounds like what would happen if The Beatles and The Flaming
Lips had a big psychedelic orgy and spawned twenty-some children who all went and
crashed a symphony orchestra. The band, which consists of over 20 members, boasts an
ensemble including strings, brass, harp, theremin, and countless backing vocals that all
support the traditional rock combination of drums, bass, guitars, piano and vocals that
provides the foundation, but not the focus, of the bands sound. While there are some
melancholy moments, the band has a generally uplifting mood, with painfully catchy
melodies, unexpected arrangements and shockingly emphatic breakdowns. There is
thematic and melodic simplicity in lovely contrast with structural and instrumental
complexity. They have two records in stores now: “The Beginning Stages of…” and
“Together We’re Heavy.” I prefer the latter but they are both kick-ass. You need this.
Beast Moans
Swan Lake
2006
Indie Co-Editor
It’s intimidating to write about music because by nature any reader will either
a) scoff at your musical taste, or b) want to know when 50 Cent will remix
“Promiscuous Girl.” (Side note: can anyone think of a more ironic title for
Dartmouth girls’ favorite summer song?) So, regardless of the category you fit,
you will inevitably ignore this review. This is fine, I haven’t even heard the album
yet. However, you can thank me later when you realize you played the record
twelve times in a row without even checking blitz, because with these three names -
Spencer Krug, Dan Bejar, Carey Mercer - collaborating on one album, I can’t imagine
it being a flop. Dan Bejar sings and plays guitar for Destroyer and also contributes
in The New Pornographers. Carey Mercer is the Frog Eyes frontman. Spencer Krug
was arguably the biggest name in indie rock in 2005. Do the math, buy the album.
Mirrorball
Neil Young
1995
General Rock Editor
Neil Young’s 1995 offering, Mirrorball, is widely underappreciated in comparison
to many of his records. There are no standout songs, and very few have ever been
performed to a live audience. However, it is unlike anything he has ever done. Pearl
Jam was brought in as his backing band. At the time, the so-called “grunge” scene was
coming to an end with the recent passing of Kurt Cobain and the dissent of Seattle-based
musicians. This set the stage perfectly for one of classic rock’s most prominent names to
collaborate with one of contemporary rock’s most popular acts. The album is a change
for Pearl Jam. Eddie Vedder is largely absent except for a minor backing vocal on “Peace
and Love.” Without having to deal with the shadow of a strong front man hanging over
them constantly, the rest of the band was able to grow musically with the guidance of
Neil. The music is distorted, crowded, cloudy and best in headphones. However, Pearl
Jam’s fast paced, punk influenced guitar playing and Young’s drawn out wail mesh
very well. The songs on the album cover everything one would expect from two artists
as socially conscious as these two. Politics, abortion, war and peace flood the albums
lyrics, but do not steal focus away from the music. Although this album is far from Neil
or Pearl Jam’s best efforts, the influence the ageless rocker had on the career of Pearl Jam
is undeniable. No longer was their music solely guitar driven hard rock providing space
for a great voice. They now moved to produce a solid wall of sound that would blend
with Eddie Vedder’s chilling baritone. This shift produced their two best albums, No
Code and Yield, and moved them out of the mainstream, a place Neil Young’s constant
experimentation always brought him.

Überjam
John Scofield
2002
I guess for the first Editor’s Pick I can
choose anything I want from any period
in Jazz history. Therefore, let me tell
you about The John Scofield Band’s first
release called Überjam, what I consider
the best record ever made. This album
features Scofield’s be-bop sensibilities
(he started out playing with Miles
Davis) coming face-to-face with the
most cutting-edge jazz and funk artists
of our time. Fusion drummer Adam
At the Controls
James Holden
2006
At The Controls is only Holden’s
second commercial mix CD release, the
first being the seminal Balance 005, and
it provides a truly different experience
from its predecessor. While Balance is
immediately danceable and clearly
reflective of a club experience, At The
Controls is better suited for enjoyment
at home or in the car. A quick look at
the track list is a testament to its eclectic
nature. Tracks by artists typically found
on his record label Border Community,
such as Petter and Nathan Fake, are
intermixed with artists such as Massive
Attack, Death In Vegas, and Aphex
Twin. The album also features two new
original tracks and a remix by Holden
himself. While the mix certainly doesn’t
develop as it would if Holden were
playing in a club, it is well-structured
and clearly goes places. It’s eclectic
yet cohesive, slightly discordant yet
never out of key, and slightly off beat at
times yet still masterfully mixed. It is,
without a doubt, the most original and
ambitious DJ mix CD you will hear all
year.
DJ/House/Electronica
Editor
Jazz Editor
Dietch, who made a name for himself
drumming with Soulive, provides a
foundation pace for the backbone of
the album. Rhythm guitar and sampler
Avi Bortnick makes the album unique,
more electronic, and arguably more
progressive than anything else to come
out of this decade’s jazz scene. Bassist
Jesse Murphy just loves a groove; he
left Scofield’s band for a gig on Gov’t
Mule’s new line-up before their second
release, but left his mark on their
sound. Guest appearances by Karl
Denson and John Medeski take this
album from good to great. Whenever
somebody new to the genre asks me for
a recommendation, I suggest this album.
It’s far from pure jazz, but this fusion
release will make anybody understand
what makes modern jazz worth their
attention.
Ys
Joanna Newsom
2006
Three months after first listening to this al-
bum, I continue having trouble adequately
characterizing what happens to me when
James Mercer’s voice swells on the open-
ing lines of “Australia.” More and more
I’ve become drawn to music that can ab-
sorb me, and that is exactly what Wincing
does. Beyond just its infectious melodies
and driving rhythms, it possesses those
brief moments when a perfect combination
of notes and tones just seems to reach out,
fill your head, and push everything else
out. With tunes like these and the main-
stream appeal their record sales imply, The
Shins just might be resurrecting good pop.
Some Loud Thunder
Clap Your Hands
Say Yeah
2007
Trout Mask Replica
Captain Beefheart &
His Magic Band
1969
If Cal Schenkel’s crazy-ass cover art
doesn’t hook you, then something on this
28-tracked double album really should.
Dissonant and eclectic, this seminal album
is experimental rock at its best. Getting
through it the first time is sometimes a
miserable experience, but subsequent
listenings will take you in and send you
on a visceral journey. It’s no big surprise
that Frank Zappa produced this gem, nor
is it shocking that Tom Waits called this
one of his 20 most cherished albums of all
time. Go bury yourself in this shit, but be
warned - it is not for the weak-hearted.
Country and Bluegrass
Editor
Her hyperliterate lyrics speak of loneliness,
desperation, redemption, and rebirth; they
tell stories about our relationship to the
universe, and spin poignant fables about
degradation and lost dreams. Her distinct
warble, simultaneously rough and delicate,
combines with the beautiful backdrop of
a Van Dyke Parks strings-based orchestra-
tion to create epic melodies that engulf us
in their rises and falls. Though this album
may be difficult to get through on first
listen, it is certainly worth the effort.
Wincing The
Night Away
The Shins
2007
This sophomore effort is the product of
a completely different CYHSY. In an
attempt to create a darker, mor somber
album, these Brooklyn-based rockers have
generally forsaken the tight, high energy
melodies that made their debut such great
listening. Most of Thunder’s tracks are
disorganized and uninspired, with the
notable exception of “Satan Said Dance,”
which can still rouse me to sing loudly and
frenetically shake my head.

he lights dim on a Friday night
in Albany, New York and Boom’s
anthem, “Wasted Reprise,” soars
over a roaring crowd. The roar becomes a
sweat of anticipation, and I am not alone as
a knowing grin forms on my face when I
realize an epic evening is certain to follow.
Lead singer Eddie Vedder soon lends his
voice, creating an ethereal aura. Before
the organ has time to drown in the sea of
crowd noise, Matt Cameron’s symbol beats
the way from its lofty reprise into the hard-
hitting “Life Wasted.” As Stone Gossard’s
guitar knifes in, the transition is complete,
and the band immediately hits high gear.
We would not see much of Boom Gasper,
Pearl Jam’s “chairman of the boards,”
the rest of the evening, but I don’t think
anyone protested, because what ensued
was some balls out rock.
The nearly idle to full throttle transition
was something Pearl Jam threw at us
throughout the tour. In Hartford, the
band sedated the audience with the rare,
mellow combo of “I’m Open” into “Sleight
of Hand.” Having downed a few brews
and jumped around like a maniac for an
hour and a half, things were not looking
good for regaining the energy needed to
fully represent as a Pearl Jam “freak” for
the remainder of the show. As “Sleight of
Hand” ambled on I dejectedly looked to
Greg, my heterosexual Pearl Jam life-mate,
and said something to the effect of, “That’s
it man, I’m not going to be able to get back
up for this.” Seconds later I gladly ate my
words and was airborne again as the band
“shifted from first to fifth” and thrashed
out an intense “Comatose” followed by the
ultimate blood boiler “Do the Evolution.”
A mini road trip, involving back to
back shows in Albany and Hartford, was
a great first half of the eventual four Pearl
Jam shows I would see thus far on this
2006 tour. It wouldn’t be doing the band
justice to say that this tour is taking place
in promotion of their recently released
self-titled album. Touring is what they
do, and is what they have been known
for throughout the past ten years while
their albums have failed to attain mass
approval. That being said, there was
notable emphasis placed on the recently
released album, much more so than was
placed on Binaural, Riot Act, and Lost
Dogs in the tours following their releases.
Both the Boston and Albany shows, for
example, featured nine of the thirteen
new tracks. Many of you are probably
thinking, “That sounds about right, play
most of the new album, then four or five
popular songs that everyone knows and
can sing along to, maybe throw in a cover,
and that’s you’re rock concert.” In most
cases you would be correct, but Pearl Jam
doesn’t fuck around. Those nine songs
made up less than one third of the average
28 song, three hour Pearl Jam show. You
can see why many are starting to compare
their shows and cult-like following, to
those of the Grateful Dead, a comparison
Vedder finds laughably absurd due to
drastic musical differences.
Playing lengthy shows with high
frequency for 15 years can be a grueling
endeavor. How many relatively
mainstream bands have been able to tour
regularly and produce albums for that
long without burning out or fading away?
What Pearl Jam has done, and continues
to do, certainly does put them in elite
company. Having had the pleasure of
experiencing the seismic level of energy
that erupts at each show, I find it amazing
that this level of energy, shared by Pearl
Jam and the audience alike, never wanes.
This sustainable energy is potentially
even harder to achieve during this tour,
because the band has focused on pleasing
the average fan by playing Ten classics
such as “Alive” and “Even Flow” at nearly
every show. In a recent interview with
Rolling Stone, Eddie was asked how he is
always able to seem really into the songs
that he sings each night. His response
was surprisingly simple. He doesn’t fake
it or use some trick to fire himself up, for
him, it’s all about the music. “I dare you
to sing ‘Black’ and not feel it. I dare you,”
was his reply. He feels that, “If you’re
gonna play the song, you better play it.” I
know I speak for many, in fact, just about
everyone in the crowd on a given night,
when saying that I sure as hell feel it. It’s
that unbelievably contagious feeling of
power and energy that keeps me paying 60
dollars to see show after show. There are
very few bands playing today that I could
see four times in a little over a month and
be completely enthralled each time.
Although, for the past ten years Pearl
Jam has been plugging away just outside
the gaze of the popular eye, with this
album and tour something has changed.
They have raised the bar back to the
heights of the Ten era. As Eddie puts it,
“I feel like we’ve been handing in our
work on time, and we’ve been getting
A’s and B’s, but we haven’t really raised
our hand and spoken out in class. This
record is us speaking out in class.” I’m
not quite sure what it was, maybe just
Eddie being onstage in front of me, maybe
his girlfriend, model Jill McCormick, in
view backstage, or maybe it really was
this “speaking out in class” concept, but
I had a revelation. As you may have
guessed, I had to share my revelation with
my heterosexual Pearl Jam life-mate, so
after scanning the crowd I turned to Greg
and said, “Man, I think they have finally
figured it out, they are all there is for these
people (referring to the 30 year old males
that filled audience). Pearl Jam has finally
sacked up and realized it’s time to be THE
band for these guys.” That may sound
fairly cryptic, but it made a hell of a lot of
sense to me at the time. I got so excited
that I even mentioned that I wished I
wrote for Rolling Stone, because I wanted
to share all of the divine insight that had
been bestowed upon me. Now that I
actually do have the chance to write about
it, it neither sounds quite as good, nor
makes nearly as much sense, but I think
I was referring to the fact that I could not
think of any other bands that have been
consistently rocking since that group of
thirty year olds started high school. Pearl
Jam may have fallen off the radar a bit, but
they never ceased to put on one of the best
shows in the business. Now that they’re
back and seemingly ready to accept their
responsibility as heroes. This group of
beer swilling 30 year olds now has a band,
one that they’ve grown up with, to get
excited about again. This isn’t some joke
of a reunion tour, where you have to pay a
hundred dollars to watch some half dead
sixty year olds just trying to live through a
concert. This is one of the greatest bands
of their high school glory days running on
all cylinders.
The idea of familiarity is an important
one here. Pearl Jam is finally choosing
to be a familiar name again, like they
unwillingly were in the early 90s, and like
they could have been all along. Beginning
with No Code in 1996 Pearl Jam began to
isolate all but their most devout fans by
“Pearl
Jam has
finally
sacked
up and
realized
it’s time
to be THE
”
band ...
producing more obscure, introspective
albums and not playing a number of mega
hits at every show. The band cites several
reasons for their intentional self sabotage
campaign, most notably immaturity,
stalker issues, and general contempt for
the ideas of stardom and pop culture.
Their philosophy of humility has been a
Pearl Jam trademark for the past ten years
and is largely responsible for fostering
the formation of their cult-like following.
Perhaps their shying away from the
limelight is what enabled them to stay
together, productive, and alive for the past
fifteen years. It’s impossible to predict
where the band would be today had they
not. We all remember the outcome of Kurt
Cobain’s war with stardom.
That being said, if they were disgusted
by all of the crap that’s played on MTV
and the radio today, why not make a
catchier song or two and have people
listen to your music, which is infinitely
better than said crap? If they’re so
passionate about politics, why not amass
a larger fan base to which they could
pitch their propaganda? And if they’re
legitimately scared of making a lot of
money, they could simply give even more
to charities. It took them awhile, but
they seem to have realized that fame isn’t
all that bad. Letterman, SNL, and VH1:
Storytellers appearances, a Rolling Stone
cover, the success of “Worldwide Suicide”
as a single, frequent interviews, the “Life
Wasted” music video, and set list changes
are all indications of this realization.
I guess I shouldn’t be the one complaining,
because No Code and Yield are my two
favorite Pearl Jam albums and they are
products of the band’s former mentality,
but as this encore break speech Eddie
made in Albany indicates, things have
changed and Pearl Jam the “Leash” in Boston for the first time
is ready to appease the since March 3, 1995, they certainly had the
“freaks” and “normal”
fans alike.
“It’s weird, it makes it
“freaks” in mind.
Between the seldom and the redundant,
there is a lot of variable middle ground
really interesting. Some that cannot be overlooked. Ripping,
of the people want to ten minute renditions of “Porch” and
hear a bunch of songs “Rearviewmirror” are the highlight of
they know from the radio, many a show whether your fancy yourself
some of the songs that as a “freak” or “normal.” Perhaps the
they, uh, fell in love to, biggest difference I can see between the
some of the songs they current shows and those shows of the past
first got laid to, some of few years, that I’m sure the majority of
the songs they ran away the fans appreciate, is that the relatively
to, then other people just
want to hear the songs
flaccid Riot Act material has been replaced
with the raw, energetic, and powerful
that we’ve never played new material, creating an atmosphere
before once ever, ever, reminiscent of the Ten days. Granted,
ever…never played… and
I guess what we should
Eddie isn’t plunging into the pit from a
thirty-foot perch and bassist Jeff Ament
do is take a poll at the may not be jumping quite as high, but no
beginning of the night one is twenty forever.
because we’d see how Two years ago if I mentioned that
many of the normal people are here and I was going to a Pearl Jam show, the
we’d see how many of the freaks are here common response was, “Those guys are
and then we could deal accordingly. And still around? I thought they’d broken up
believe me, when I was growing up, the years ago.” Pearl Jam is still here, and
last thing…I thought the worst thing you now they’re ready to let you know it. The
could turn out to be was normal, so I say people who thought they had crashed are
freaks in the most complimentary way. now coming to the shows, being blown
Here’s a song by a fellow freak.” away, and asking for more. There is no
Eddie followed that quote by turning back this time, the band is having
performing a solo, acoustic version of John fun and has given every indication that
Lennon’s “Hide Your Love Away.” Sure, they foresee things rolling like this for
maybe the guys would like to add even many years. If you have or had any
more diversity to their set lists, but the interest in Pearl Jam whatsoever, even
heavy Ten bias, rarely playing Binaural if you just like a song or two from Ten, I
and Riot Act (two of their least well implore you to listen to the new album a
received albums), and always playing the couple times and get to a show. I would
singles are what the “normal” people come be surprised if you didn’t bump into me
to see. Add to that the Mike McCready on campus and tell me it was the best rock
highlight reel featuring Neil Young’s concert you have ever attended.
“Rockin’ in the Free
World,” a jammed out
“Yellow Ledbetter,”
and a Hendrix-esque
“Star Spangled Banner,”
while the house lights
conveniently come on
during the final encore,
and you may catch a
few “normals” drop
the word legendary.
Despite the increased
predictability due to
renewed attention
paid to the “normal”
crowd, the band never
forgets to throw a bone
or two to their beloved
“freaks.” When the
band played “Rats” in
Albany for the first time
“since Matt Cameron
joined the band” in 1998
and when they dropped
out an intense “Comatose” followed by the
ultimate blood boiler “Do the Evolution.”
A mini road trip, involving back to
back shows in Albany and Hartford, was
a great first half of the eventual four Pearl
Jam shows I would see thus far on this
2006 tour. It wouldn’t be doing the band
justice to say that this tour is taking place
in promotion of their recently released
self-titled album. Touring is what they
do, and is what they have been known
for throughout the past ten years while
their albums have failed to attain mass
approval. That being said, there was
notable emphasis placed on the recently
released album, much more so than was
placed on Binaural, Riot Act, and Lost
Dogs in the tours following their releases.
Both the Boston and Albany shows, for
example, featured nine of the thirteen
new tracks. Many of you are probably
thinking, “That sounds about right, play
most of the new album, then four or five
popular songs that everyone knows and
can sing along to, maybe throw in a cover,
and that’s you’re rock concert.” In most
cases you would be correct, but Pearl Jam
doesn’t fuck around. Those nine songs
made up less than one third of the average
28 song, three hour Pearl Jam show. You
can see why many are starting to compare
their shows and cult-like following, to
those of the Grateful Dead, a comparison
Vedder finds laughably absurd due to
drastic musical differences.
Playing lengthy shows with high
frequency for 15 years can be a grueling
endeavor. How many relatively
mainstream bands have been able to tour
regularly and produce albums for that
long without burning out or fading away?
What Pearl Jam has done, and continues
to do, certainly does put them in elite
company. Having had the pleasure of
experiencing the seismic level of energy
that erupts at each show, I find it amazing
that this level of energy, shared by Pearl
Jam and the audience alike, never wanes.
This sustainable energy is potentially
even harder to achieve during this tour,
because the band has focused on pleasing
the average fan by playing Ten classics
such as “Alive” and “Even Flow” at nearly
every show. In a recent interview with
Rolling Stone, Eddie was asked how he is
always able to seem really into the songs
that he sings each night. His response
was surprisingly simple. He doesn’t fake
it or use some trick to fire himself up, for
him, it’s all about the music. “I dare you
to sing ‘Black’ and not feel it. I dare you,”
was his reply. He feels that, “If you’re
gonna play the song, you better play it.” I
know I speak for many, in fact, just about
everyone in the crowd on a given night,
when saying that I sure as hell feel it. It’s
that unbelievably contagious feeling of
power and energy that keeps me paying 60
dollars to see show after show. There are
very few bands playing today that I could
see four times in a little over a month and
be completely enthralled each time.
Although, for the past ten years Pearl
Jam has been plugging away just outside
the gaze of the popular eye, with this
album and tour something has changed.
They have raised the bar back to the
heights of the Ten era. As Eddie puts it,
“I feel like we’ve been handing in our
work on time, and we’ve been getting
A’s and B’s, but we haven’t really raised
our hand and spoken out in class. This
record is us speaking out in class.” I’m
not quite sure what it was, maybe just
Eddie being onstage in front of me, maybe
his girlfriend, model Jill McCormick, in
view backstage, or maybe it really was
this “speaking out in class” concept, but
I had a revelation. As you may have
guessed, I had to share my revelation with
my heterosexual Pearl Jam life-mate, so
after scanning the crowd I turned to Greg
and said, “Man, I think they have finally
figured it out, they are all there is for these
people (referring to the 30 year old males
that filled audience). Pearl Jam has finally
sacked up and realized it’s time to be THE
band for these guys.” That may sound
fairly cryptic, but it made a hell of a lot of
sense to me at the time. I got so excited
that I even mentioned that I wished I
wrote for Rolling Stone, because I wanted
to share all of the divine insight that had
been bestowed upon me. Now that I
actually do have the chance to write about
it, it neither sounds quite as good, nor
makes nearly as much sense, but I think
I was referring to the fact that I could not
think of any other bands that have been
consistently rocking since that group of
thirty year olds started high school. Pearl
Jam may have fallen off the radar a bit, but
they never ceased to put on one of the best
shows in the business. Now that they’re
back and seemingly ready to accept their
responsibility as heroes. This group of
beer swilling 30 year olds now has a band,
one that they’ve grown up with, to get
excited about again. This isn’t some joke
of a reunion tour, where you have to pay a
hundred dollars to watch some half dead
sixty year olds just trying to live through a
concert. This is one of the greatest bands
of their high school glory days running on
all cylinders.
The idea of familiarity is an important
one here. Pearl Jam is finally choosing
to be a familiar name again, like they
unwillingly were in the early 90s, and like
they could have been all along. Beginning
with No Code in 1996 Pearl Jam began to
isolate all but their most devout fans by
“Pearl
Jam has
finally
sacked
up and
realized
it’s time
to be THE
”
band ...
producing more obscure, introspective
albums and not playing a number of mega
hits at every show. The band cites several
reasons for their intentional self sabotage
campaign, most notably immaturity,
stalker issues, and general contempt for
the ideas of stardom and pop culture.
Their philosophy of humility has been a
Pearl Jam trademark for the past ten years
and is largely responsible for fostering
the formation of their cult-like following.
Perhaps their shying away from the
limelight is what enabled them to stay
together, productive, and alive for the past
fifteen years. It’s impossible to predict
where the band would be today had they
not. We all remember the outcome of Kurt
Cobain’s war with stardom.
That being said, if they were disgusted
by all of the crap that’s played on MTV
and the radio today, why not make a
catchier song or two and have people
listen to your music, which is infinitely
better than said crap? If they’re so
passionate about politics, why not amass
a larger fan base to which they could
pitch their propaganda? And if they’re
legitimately scared of making a lot of
money, they could simply give even more
to charities. It took them awhile, but
they seem to have realized that fame isn’t
all that bad. Letterman, SNL, and VH1:
Storytellers appearances, a Rolling Stone
cover, the success of “Worldwide Suicide”
as a single, frequent interviews, the “Life
Wasted” music video, and set list changes
are all indications of this realization.
I guess I shouldn’t be the one complaining,
because No Code and Yield are my two
favorite Pearl Jam albums and they are
products of the band’s former mentality,
but as this encore break speech Eddie
made in Albany indicates, things have
changed and Pearl Jam the “Leash” in Boston for the first time
is ready to appease the since March 3, 1995, they certainly had the
“freaks” and “normal”
fans alike.
“It’s weird, it makes it
“freaks” in mind.
Between the seldom and the redundant,
there is a lot of variable middle ground
really interesting. Some that cannot be overlooked. Ripping,
of the people want to ten minute renditions of “Porch” and
hear a bunch of songs “Rearviewmirror” are the highlight of
they know from the radio, many a show whether your fancy yourself
some of the songs that as a “freak” or “normal.” Perhaps the
they, uh, fell in love to, biggest difference I can see between the
some of the songs they current shows and those shows of the past
first got laid to, some of few years, that I’m sure the majority of
the songs they ran away the fans appreciate, is that the relatively
to, then other people just
want to hear the songs
flaccid Riot Act material has been replaced
with the raw, energetic, and powerful
that we’ve never played new material, creating an atmosphere
before once ever, ever, reminiscent of the Ten days. Granted,
ever…never played… and
I guess what we should
Eddie isn’t plunging into the pit from a
thirty-foot perch and bassist Jeff Ament
do is take a poll at the may not be jumping quite as high, but no
beginning of the night one is twenty forever.
because we’d see how Two years ago if I mentioned that
many of the normal people are here and I was going to a Pearl Jam show, the
we’d see how many of the freaks are here common response was, “Those guys are
and then we could deal accordingly. And still around? I thought they’d broken up
believe me, when I was growing up, the years ago.” Pearl Jam is still here, and
last thing…I thought the worst thing you now they’re ready to let you know it. The
could turn out to be was normal, so I say people who thought they had crashed are
freaks in the most complimentary way. now coming to the shows, being blown
Here’s a song by a fellow freak.” away, and asking for more. There is no
Eddie followed that quote by turning back this time, the band is having
performing a solo, acoustic version of John fun and has given every indication that
Lennon’s “Hide Your Love Away.” Sure, they foresee things rolling like this for
maybe the guys would like to add even many years. If you have or had any
more diversity to their set lists, but the interest in Pearl Jam whatsoever, even
heavy Ten bias, rarely playing Binaural if you just like a song or two from Ten, I
and Riot Act (two of their least well implore you to listen to the new album a
received albums), and always playing the couple times and get to a show. I would
singles are what the “normal” people come be surprised if you didn’t bump into me
to see. Add to that the Mike McCready on campus and tell me it was the best rock
highlight reel featuring Neil Young’s concert you have ever attended.
“Rockin’ in the Free
World,” a jammed out
“Yellow Ledbetter,”
and a Hendrix-esque
“Star Spangled Banner,”
while the house lights
conveniently come on
during the final encore,
and you may catch a
few “normals” drop
the word legendary.
Despite the increased
predictability due to
renewed attention
paid to the “normal”
crowd, the band never
forgets to throw a bone
or two to their beloved
“freaks.” When the
band played “Rats” in
Albany for the first time
“since Matt Cameron
joined the band” in 1998
and when they dropped
Life’s Soundtrack
Indie Editor
Wow. I’m surprised you’re reading this
article. I’m shocked you were able to fit it
into your busy day of class, reading, blitz
notifications and binge drinking. We all lead
hectic busy lives, and unfortunately in order
to save time we sacrifice certain luxuries,
but one of them has been taken too far.
Music has been marginalized as an art form,
because nobody actually listens anymore.
When you are looking at a painting you
devote your attention to it. You aren’t
Chris Symeonides on Genres
My name is Chris, and
I have no idea what the
hell “Krautrock” is.
As a self-described
music junkie, it’s a very
difficult admission to make. But the simple
truth is that when it comes to genres and
labels, I’m a borderline moron—but it’s
something that I have in common with
most music fans. Musicians are loathe to
accept them and do anything to distance
themselves from them, yet critics can’t trip
over their keyboards fast enough to label
each new band with their own personal
trademarked term.
These terms just cause my eyes to glaze
over: Noisepop, Grunge. Dance-Rock.
New Wave Revival. Krautrock. Shoegaze
and slowcore. Post-punk, Post-rock,
post-modern, post-anything. The various
colorations of Metal. House, Jungle,
Acid, IDM, Trance, Drill’n’Bass, and all
things Electronic. And of course, catch-all
terms like Indie and Alternative, which are
meaningless, yet useful at the same time.
My interest in the labeling of genres
stems from my love of the music that was
coined as “grunge”, a term that seems so
despicable in this day and age that there
is practically no one left who will own up
to loving this type of music. When I listen
driving,
or
working, or
jogging, or
fucking. When
you are watching
a movie and somebody asks you what
you are doing you say, “I’m watching a
movie.” But when was the last time you
were actively listening to a record? Almost
all of the time we spend listening to music,
we are doing so as a secondary activity, as
an enhancement to make studying more
bearable, to make the basement scene less
awkward, to make your walk to class less
boring. There is of course, nothing wrong
with this. Music makes everything better.
I’m listening to music as I write this very
article. However, there is a fundamental
difference between listening to music as a
subsidiary activity, and to giving a piece of
art your full attention.
There was a day when kids got together
and listen to records. Just like watching
a movie or a TV show, listening to music
to this music, my first impression is not
grimy soap scum.
Most of the bands associated with
the term had little in common with one
another, aside from the fact that most of
them originated from the Seattle area.
Pearl Jam was more of a classic arena-rock
revival band, Nirvana was more of an
alternative-punk mix, the Screaming Trees
were psychedelic, and Soundgarden was a
progressive Sabbath/Zeppelin-influenced
band. The closest anyone came to
something called “grunge” was the Alice
in Chains song “Sludge Factory”, which
was written in the movement’s dying days.
Of course, every band hated the term,
which was created solely to sell trashy
fashion. But the thing is this—I like each
and every one of these bands, and it
provides a convenient label to use when
describing my taste in music. However, I
am reluctant to accept other genre labels
at face-value due to my own knowledge of
the misuse of the “grunge” tag.
Broad labels are not the only problem;
the opposite dilemma exists as well—some
genres are way too subdivided. Is there
really a need to divide Techno into a
million categories, based on where the hi-
hat hits? Of course, you shouldn’t really
care about the difference. Honestly, you
was a relaxing activity where one didn’t
have to concentrate on anything in
particular and could lose himself, even if
just for a moment. Those days are largely
gone.
Why do we do this? Because we can.
Ear-buds, iPods, laptop computers and
car stereos allow us to get our aural fix
while we go about our day-to-day lives.
After having spent the afternoon in
novack half studying, half chatting, with
your headphones half on, why would
you bother to spend an hour listening to
music? You’ve been listening to music all
day! Maybe I’m the only one that feels this
way, but a song sounds different when it’s
only coming through the one ear-bud that
isn’t dangling near my shoulder. when I
take the time to sit on my couch, close my
eyes, and listen intently to a piece that isn’t
competing with kilograms of background
noise, I gain much more appreciation.
Musicians put their heart and souls into
their work. They devote their lives to it.
Every nuance is intended to be grasped,
every lyrical phrase pondered. We won’t
even notice most of the audible nooks and
crannies in the tunes we listen to, unless
we meet the artist halfway and give them
the focus they deserve and expect.
Try it sometime. It won’t take that long.
You can listen to three whole LPs in the
time it takes you to watch one shitty
movie. The next time your friend tries to
convince you to watch Episode II: Attack
of the Whatever, tell him to go speak some
Klingon or something, ditch the movie,
and put on some music.
really don’t want to associate with the kind
of people who can explain the subtleties of
“Big Beat” and “Jungle”—that shit’s just
weird. Trust me.
Problems exist even with genres which
most people assume are settled. I found
this to be the case when I tried to explain
what “punk” music is. How exactly am I
supposed to explain that The Clash’s “The
Right Profile” is in the same boat as the
Dead Kennedys’ “Terminal Preppie”?
And this doesn’t even cover the idiocy
of labeling popular music “alternative” (a
great source of jokes for music journalists
in the mid-90s) or bands that appear on
major labels as “indie” (same thing, except
mid-00s). Let me clue you in, these titles
act as euphemisms for “tuneless”.
In the end, I think this problem is best
left for the philosophers—we attempt to
constrain the ultimate creative expression
by arbitrarily creating boundaries.
We’ve solved nothing here today, but, at
the very least, I hope you’ve learned a
couple of new terms to throw around in
conversations to make you seem much
more-informed than you are. Because
really that’s what this is all about.
Does Krautrock come with beer and
sausage?
 Why do we all listen to music? What
purpose does it serve? Why does music
affect us the way it does? Why doesn’t
Ol’ Rover feel the groove?
Music and Biology
Music has no transparent evolutionary
advantage, but is prevalent in every
society across the globe. Mothers
everywhere use music to comfort their
babies and nearly every ritualized event
includes music. Humans are seemingly
built to appreciate music. We can detect
slight changes in pitch and frequency,
even if we aren’t trained to listen for
them, and human beings are better
at recognizing clips of songs
than any computer. If you can
identify songs in less than
three seconds, you can
even get a job tallying
radio station play lists
for the American
Society of
Composers and
Publishers.
Listening
to music is
built into
our brain’s
pleasure
and reward
system.
When people
listen to music, a
neurotransmitter
called dopamine
is released into
the brain,
creating
feelings of
pleasure.
This
obliges the
organism
to repeat beneficial
stimuli that create
the same feelings
of pleasure and
contentment, teaching
the body to pursue certain
things (orgasm) and avoid
others (sulfur). The same
regions of the brain that
are activated for other forms
of reward and arousal are also buzzing
when we listen to music. Apparently,
nature wants you to listen music more.
Music and Human Development
Daniel Levitin, musician, producer,
and assistant professor of neuroscience
at McGill University, has written a book
called This is Your Brain on Music which
takes a psychological look at the reasons
people across the world have devoted
so much time and effort to making and
listening to music. Levitin believes that
exposure to music begins in-utero, due to
the fact that babies have been shown to
prefer music that their mothers listened
to while pregnant. Hearing is the first
sense to be fully developed, in about the
fifth month. Music in the womb would
sound like it’s underwater, with primarily
low frequency sounds reaching the baby. music. The teenage years are when musical
On top of the steady rhythm of mother’s taste truly develops, and though it may
heartbeat, it’s no surprise that most people be influenced by the prenatal experience,
and babies gravitate towards beats and there are other factors. Social group and
lower tones similar to their first musical social identity have a huge impact on the
experiences. type of music people listen to. These songs
The common undercurrent running of your glory years will form a lasting
through most types of music relates back impression and be the music you will
to human intelligence. Good music (no listen to when you are old and decrepit,
matter who you are) generally sets up long after your twenties have ended and
expectations that meet enough of our your musical horizons have stopped
predictions to make us pleased with our expanding.
cleverness, but violates enough of those
Music and Sex
You ever notice how musicians never
seem to have trouble finding buddies
for whatever kind of play they’re
up for? Well, that’s easy. Music =
sex, or 50,000 years ago, sexual
fitness. Levitin suggests that
music was developed by
males to attract mates
and then selected
for by the females.
Males would
generally perform
a combination of
music and dance
to show their
prospective
mates that they
were both
mentally and
physically
healthy,
displaying not
only that they
could learn what
it took to play
an instrument
correctly and to
create a song,
but also, that
their motor
control was
able do what
is needed to play
and dance. Think
peacock showing off
for the peahens. And, as
mentioned above, music
stimulates the same areas
of the brain as arousal, but
then, you knew that already.
Grab your favorite music major.
You’re the motivation for his music.
Not everyone believes that music has
been a beneficial and definite part of
humanity’s development. It has been said
that “its basis is purely hedonic,” “an
evolutionary parasite”. I would prefer to
believe that music was developed for a
definite purpose, that there is some need
expectations and surprises us enough to in human beings for music. And Darwin is
keep us interested. Music that children on my side.
love is often considered repetitive and
boring by adults, who are used to the This Is Your Brain on
standards of music in their own culture.
Children are still learning the rules for Music: The Science of a
what is standard in music, so things Human Obsession
adults have heard dozens of times may
be enough to interest a child. As children Dr. David J. Levitin
grow and become more acculturated by
their society’s music, they tire of simplistic Penguin Books
tunes and listen to more complicated
 Off the Dome
When listening to the Lil’ Wayne’s
albums , I can’t help but follow the
ridiculous flow and word intonations, as
the 22 year old seems to land his squeaky
voice so effortlessly and unpredictably on
any beat given to him. Although some may
find his lyrical content a bit mundane and
his voice a bit aggravating, I can overlook
these shortfalls, because his original flow
variations and emotion-filled vocal tones
make up for them.
I have grown much more fond of Weezy
(as some call him) over the years as the
countless hours of hip-hop listening have
led me to favor erratic and fluid rhythms
over formulaic and repetitive flow types. I
would put Lil’ Wayne in the same category
as “free-flowing” emcees such as Biggy,
PROTEST MUSIC
Protest music,
in one form or
another, has played
an important role
in many periods of history. Musicians
often give a face and a voice to social
reform and other movements. Artists such
as Woody Guthrie, Joe Glazer, and Pete
Seeger played a formative part in the U.S.
labor movement. Bob Dylan, Joan Baez,
Harry Belafonte, Phil Ochs, Peter Paul and
Mary, and countless others sang for civil
rights, free speech, and disarmament. A
musician today however would have a
great deal of trouble making a name for
himself using the same approach.
At a Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young
concert I attended this summer, Young
attempted to engage the audience in a
sing-a-long rendition of his newly released
“Let’s Impeach the President for Lying,”
and Crosby & Nash’s “Immigration Man.”
With exception, the crowd seemed a great
deal more appreciative of “Southern
Man,” “For What it’s Worth” and “Ohio.”
I was frustrated with what seemed like
a desperate attempt at recreating an
atmosphere that doesn’t exist anymore.
Why is it that songs of the same genre lack
the audience and influence of similar songs
from other eras?
The cultural and political environment
today is quite different than that of the
Vietnam War era. Then, several influential
movements – civil rights, free speech,
Jay-Z, Tupac, Eminem, and the Game.
Relax, I’m not saying he (or the Game for
that matter) is as good as any of the other
emcees in the category – not yet at least. I
am simply suggesting that these rappers
have an intuitive knowledge of the flow
that allows them to rap without an obvious
rhythmic structure.
Emcees like Jadakiss, Big L, Cam’ron,
Fabolous, Ludacris and Lloyd Banks have
had tremendous success with highly
structured rhythms, as their styles allow
more focus and stress to be placed on their
descriptive, vivid and/or playful lyrical
content. Less originality and variations in
the flow usually allow for more creativity
with the word choice, which explains why
Jadakiss and Big L are among the best at
conveying hard and poignant lyrics, and
why Ludacris and Lloyd Banks manage to
rap with such playful and witty imagery.
All professional emcees can plan
out a structured song before hand, but
a much smaller portion of them have
the skill to freestyle impressively and
properly incorporate it into recorded art.
Such rappers are set apart by this “off
the dome” approach, where they step
up to the microphone with less written
preparation. Eminem has been rumored
to completely freestyle some his songs,
which may explain the randomness of
his subject matter in songs like “Rain
Man.” Jay-Z and Lil’ Wayne have been
known to write almost nothing on paper
feminist, anti-war – were occurring
almost simultaneously. Growing numbers
and influence of the baby boomer
generation galvanized movements. The
draft must also be taken into account,
which undoubtedly increased the
popularity of the anti-war movement and
protest music.
Having over 300 television stations and
more publications describing what shoes
to avoid than those that focus on current
events makes it all too easy to avoid
absorbing news. Now large corporations
have a near-monopoly on radio stations,
stripping earlier generations’ independent
DJ’s of the influence they once had. The
recording industry has become more and
more commercialized, which involves
choosing profits over message and
offending as few people as possible.
The music of the singer-songwriters of
the 60’s probably didn’t change anyone’s
mind – the music was simple and the
message often obvious – and a resurgence
of protest music today would most likely
not do so either. However, the music and
festivals offered a focus and an outlet for
the causes of the time, brought awareness to
a generation through popular culture, and
encouraged dialogue and action.The ability
of music to unify that generation is perhaps
something important missing in the realm
of activism for our own.
Many artists, such as Ani Difranco,
Green Day, Pearl Jam, The Coup, and
Bright Eyes feature themes of social
or political discontent (as opposed to
those regarding ones “lady lumps,” of
but are able to put together entire tracks
by simply reiterating or varying their
freestyles. There is something about the
“off the dome” approach that has a special
appeal for me. The spontaneity adds a
unique and refreshing aspect to a song that
lyrical preparation cannot match. In the
midst of a pure freestyle, the artist loses
consciousness in a sense, as unfettered
expression becomes one with the beat.
If you ask me, the ability to come “off
the dome” is a true sign of emcee talent
and skill. Of all of the Hip-Hop greats,
regardless of how they approached
recording their songs, they all are or were
gifted enough to drop bars and bars of
beautiful and fluid rap improvisation, and,
in some cases, they are even skilled enough
to make entire tracks of spontaneous
inspiration. I personally commend rising
hip-hoppers like Lil’ Wayne who take the
“off the dome” approach because it truly
adds a refreshing flavor to rap music while
giving it more credibility as a musical
genre. Maybe record labels should make
it a pre-requisite to freestyle for 200 bars
before being able to sign an emcee to a
deal. A few purely lyrical rappers might be
lost, but I guarantee that the fake bullshit
you hear on the radio that gives rap a bad
name would be cut-down immensely.
arguably equal importance). Many major
musicians attempt to get their message
across verbally at concerts and festivals
if not in their music, and just as many
support causes they believe in with
their own funds, such as Elvis Costello,
Dave Matthews, Bonnie Raitt, and the
Dixie Chicks (who have recently had to
cancel many scheduled concerts due to
their politics). While a number of hip
hop and pop musicians have written
songs protesting the war, these songs
are virtually ignored as album fillers.
There are also countless musicians who
independently create and produce their
own music with a message; however in
most cases you have to know where to
look. Musicians are still protesting, but
like it or not the
audience isn’t what it
once was. If you’re
looking for a lone
songwriter and
his guitar singing
new songs and
asking for peace,
be prepared to do
some solitary sifting.
 The Young Knives
Voices of Animals and Men
Release Date: Aug. 21, 2006
Wea International
T his British trio’s freshman effort surfaces among the recent
flood of British post-punk art-rock revivalists. Echoes of the
Strokes and the Futureheads reverberate throughout the
record. Additionally, The Young Knives’ roots are obvious and
increasingly commonplace: XTC, the Jam, and Gang of Four are
most prominent. And yet, Voices of Animals and Men could be one
of the most distinctive debuts of 2006.
Opening with “Part Timer”, the album is immediately charged,
infective, and restless. A majority of the tracks share these
qualities, resulting in a record pregnant with edgy hooks and
melodies that will inevitably pulse in your head later in the
day. Even tracks like “Another Hollow Line” and “Temblings of
Trails,” which ease off the frantic riffs, find brilliance in their keen
melodic punk sensibilities.
Of course, like any worthwhile band, the true character of
The Young Knives resides in more than catchy hooks and jittery
bass lines. Henry Dartnall’s vocals can only be described as
idiosyncratic; sung with a pitch-shifting British twang, they are
fantastically treacherous. “In The Pink” features choppy lines
of cynical fury intermittently met with a sinking, melancholy
refrain that makes you feel as though you fell into a Shins’ album.
The Knives weave pleasant harmonies, hard-hitting anthemic
verses, and random, nearly out-of-place falsettos so tightly that
the result is a quirky sound, which is complimented by the band’s
solid instrumental groundwork. The writing is generally as good
as the other aspects of the album. Although many of the lyrical
references are lost on an American audience, their wit shines
through, highlighting their penchant for furious observations
on subjects like the working class (Weekends and Bleak Days),
elitism (Loughborough Suicide), and boredom (Part Timer). and Fire,” and on tracks like “Original Fire” and “Broken
Unfortunately, Voices of Animals and Men is far from perfect.
Rearing their appalling heads about halfway through the album,
“Tailors” and “Half-Timer” are terrible songs, and they absolutely
kill the rush delivered by the previous 6 six tracks. The energy
of the first half of Voices never fully returns after this mid-album
two-track train wreck.
Despite its weak points, this is an excellent debut by a band
whose sophisticated immediacy is instantly appealing. Overall,
Voices of Animals and Men is an invigorating listen – before “Part
Timer” even finishes, you’ll be hooked.
Tim Bakke
Audioslave
Revelations
Release Date: Sept. 5, 2006
Sony
F ive years ago when we heard rock supergroup
Audioslave’s eponymous debut album, we were blown
away. It wasn’t Soundgarden Redux or Rage Against
the Machine Rehashed, but rather possessed a new sound
that incorporated some of the best elements of both bands.
Guitarist Tom Morello retained his raw style of play from
Rage, and Chris Cornell’s dark and emotional vocals replaced
de la Rocha’s occasionally annoying rap, giving us an album
that was at once heavy and melodic. While it may not have
been revolutionary in breaking down genre barriers or
experimenting with new sounds, it was a powerfully hitting
record that swept us away and had us angrily shrieking and
wailing along to its tunes. It established the band’s strengths:
power, anger, and the ability to get us carried away.
Latest release Revelations’ title track (also the opener) aptly
reveals that this new album is lacking those very qualities
that made the debut worthwhile. Quitting smoking and
excessive boozing has taken the character out of Cornell’s
voice and smoothed out his compelling rough edges, or
at least the album has been remastered to sound that way.
“Revelations” – and half of the other tracks on the album
– sounds like soulless, mainstream rock. There are certainly
moments when they sound like the hard Audioslave we love,
but overall, the melodies and arrangement are so trite that
not even Morello’s guitar can salvage them. There’s just no
edge or energy.
The half of the album that isn’t just bland rock finds
Audioslave attempting to create a new sound. Morello has
described the record as “Led Zeppelin meets Earth, Wind
City,” we do hear some funk and R&B influences though the
Zeppelin is missing. These moves may appeal to a different
audience than the band is used to, but fans of Audioslave will
likely be disappointed. The funky guitar riffs and variegated
rhythm stylings just aren’t Audioslave’s forte.
If you’re really craving some new Cornell, try and find
a bootleg of an unplugged show he did in Sweden as a
promotion for Revelations. Download “Moth” and be done
with this disappointing effort from a band we deserve more
from.
Chet Ramamurthy

Girl Talk
Night Ripper
Release Date: May 9, 2006
Illegal Art
Night Ripper sounds like the unconscious
of a pop-music obsessive five milligrams
of Adderall short of heart explosion.
Composed of mash-ups, it joyously
bounces from sample to sample to
sample—over 150 in all. Overall, it is one
of the most fun albums in recent memory,
a frenzied celebration of all that is pop
music. About two minutes into “Smash
Your Head,” the “Tiny Dancer” piano
melody drops like a bad habit as Biggie
raps like a man about to die. Words fail,
jaws drop, white people dance; the mash-
up as grace.
Girl Talk is Philadelphia DJ Greg Gillis,
and his genius is selection. Every sample is
precisely the best part of a great song: the
string hook from the Verve’s “Bittersweet
Symphony,” the piano line from Phantom
Planet’s “California,” the 50 Cent’s first
verse from “Hate It or Love It.” Part of the
fun of the album is trying to identify the
samples’ sources, which range from the
Pixies to Southern rap to the Beatles.
The greatest achievements of Night
Ripper are the glorious juxtapositions in the
vein of the Biggie/Elton John masterstroke
described above. The album is full of such
moments: the Game verse is on top of
pastel synths that put his fire on ice, and
the “Bittersweet Symphony” sample is laid
under the most profane rapping the Ying-
Yang Twins have to offer. If that sounds
crazy, wait until you hear it.
The samples have intensity in common.
About ninety seconds into “Hold Up,” the
“Laffy Taffy” chorus soars over a beat of
unearthly speed. Before the song is over,
every sound is new: call-and-response
rapping backed by chopped-up snares,
and Weezer’s “Say It Ain’t So” guitar solo
as the fireworks over the grand slam.
Night Ripper is a party. Invite your friends.
Alex Howe
A duo that has remixed everything from After a chilled-out interlude in the
Britney Spears to Dido to Nalin & Kane form of “Not Enough” and “Amsterdam
to the theme of Brokeback Mountain, Josh Interlude,” the tempo picks up again with
Gabriel and Dave Dresden finally give us a relief from vocals and a floor-shaking
their debut genre-defying artist album. The “Sydney,” leading to the finale uplifting
album as a whole has a very harmonic, “Tracking Treasure Down.” It sounds like
introspective feel and while certainly not it should be an anthem but unfortunately,
a typical “dance” album, there is a broad it doesn’t quite make it.
range of styles here, Good though they are, I can’t
from a deep dance shake the feeling that the
floor sound verging vocals do get in the way of
on house to an almost some of the tracks and are
commercial, radio- a distraction from G&D’s
friendly pop style. All excellent production skills.
but two tracks have While all cuts from this
vocals, though not the album have their moments,
ethereal vocals we’re there’s no true standout
used to in trance; track here. Nonetheless,
instead it’s about innovative use of sounds in
punch and attitude places, careful filtering and
here. effects, and a very unique
The opener “Let Gabriel & Dresden style make this album a
Go” is typical of great listen and certainly
the whole album, Gabriel & Dresden something fresh, provided
with lots of vocals, Release Date: Aug. 8, 2006 you’re not expecting four-
jingly synths,
background acoustic
Organized Nature Records to-the-floor pumping dance
floor tracks throughout.
guitar arpeggios, and Overall, this album feels
percussion, which combine to sound like it wants to be great, and has all the
more like rock than dance. Nevertheless, elements required to make it a classi but
it’s catchy, thoughtful, and uplifting. it’s crying out for a tougher remixed
Appearing a few lackluster tracks later, version that cuts most of the vocals and
the snappy “Closer” is one of the album’s ditches the dodgy synths but keeps the
highlights, with sharp production and great patches.
great synths, though I would have liked to
hear a non-vocal remix. Samuel E. Kohn
This time, celebrated genre-defying gives way to “Backstage Girl,” a terribly
turntablist DJ Shadow (Mike Davis) long story of a sexual tryst with a
seeks to establish his continued groupie (complete with guitar swagger
relevance by embracing the rising that desperately needs to be sent back to
trend of Bay Area hyphy hip hop. Kid Rock) that’s really only an excuse to
This move fails – the mainstream rap use the line, “I gotta stop fucking with
tracks taking up half the album could these bitches off of MySpace, dog.”
almost have been written by anybody That said, some of the hyphy
else. The underwhelming tracks manage to
performances of guest be catchy - “Enuff”
artists such as Keak proves charming
Da Sneak and E-40 with its salsa dance
come off as phoned- sensibilities, and
in reminders of these E-40’s son Droop-E
artists’ fondness for provides a bonus
the finer things of remix of “3 Freaks”
hyphy culture: stunner that improves a bit
shades, gas breakin’ upon Davis’ original.
and dippin’, getting But nowhere does
dumb, turf dancing, the album get any
and buying magazines better than the
about car stereos. aforementioned
Davis’ experimental 1960s soul of “This
style does shine DJ Shadow Time,” an enjoyable,
through a bit on each The Outsider if not slightly
song, though, even if Release Date: Sept. 19, 2006 rudimentary, exercise
only as the cheery ba- in turntablism. With
ling! of a Game Boy Universal Records/Island Records The Outsider, Davis’
or an odd choice of scatterbrain style
synthesizer. Sadly, his genre-mashing misses the mark.
style doesn’t operate with the usual In future albums, I hope never to
smoothness, leaving the album a jumble again hear The Federation rhyme “ghost
of self-contained tracks thrown together ridin’ the whip” with “[she] ghost ridin’
in a schizophrenic hodgepodge. Soulful my dick.”
1960s Al Green sounds are suddenly
replaced by the thumps of mainstream
rap. A frantic storm of electronic beats Joseph B. Hilgard
 Lately, it seems as if every surfacing
new wave band breaks out with a hit
debut record only to spiral into relative
oblivion due to an uninspired sophomore
slump.
The Killers clearly harness inspiration,
but it seems altogether too fake. Rather
than developing in a
new direction all
their own, Brandon
Flowers and company
strive to no avail
to assume defining
characteristics of
legendary artists. They
leave behind the bits
and pieces of David
Bowie channeled so
beautifully on Hot
Fuss, in favor of
motivation from a
supposedly more
mainsteam musician:
Bruce Springsteen. Release Date: Oct. 3, 2006 entirely unimpressed. The
Unfortunately, such a
stretch proves far out
Island, Lizard King Records Killers
of the group’s reach;
they simply lack the experience and talent,
among other things, possessed by the Boss. original, and true to their style.
“Bones” showcases Flowers’s voice by
pushing it slightly passed its limits into a
warm, embracing tremble. Unfortunately,
Gov’t Mule began in 1994 as a power
trio, a love letter from frontman Warren
Haynes and bassist Allen Woody to classic
groups like Cream and the Jimi Hendrix
Experience. Although the band had to
replace Woody after his death in 2000, and
added a permanent keyboard player on
their last album, 2004’s Déjà Voodoo, they
have stuck to their classic-rock guns. High
& Mighty is no exception
– Warren and the boys have
come back with more of the
same bluesy rockers and
heartfelt ballads fans have
come to expect.
Haynes’s powerful,
soulful voice, like an older
Chris Robinson with better
enunciation, is in top
form, adding a sense of
drama to the album.. This
is especially true on the
up-tempo “Streamline
Woman,” as the somewhat
generic lyrics (“Ooo,
streamline woman, let me Release Date: Aug. 22, 2006 Voodoo in that Danny
be good to you”) become
convincing through
Warren’s strong, but
nuanced delivery. Another highlight of the feel like less of an afterthought. If you
album, “Like Flies” pairs a sinister guitar
line with lyrics that harshly criticize pop
culture, accusing those “who wouldn’t
know the difference between Vin Diesel
and Van Gogh” of “spreading filth /
buzzing all around my head / like flies.”
Haynes’s formidable slide guitar chops
make an appearance for the reflective,
nostalgic anthem, “Brighter Days.”
High &Mighty’s biggest strength is also
its biggest flaw – it’s more of the same, to
they also mimic Queen with high-pitched
group background vocals, and the track
comes off as clumsy and awkward rather
than empowering and energetic. Although
lead single, “When You Were Young,”
authoritatively and aggressively charges,
the album lacks a definitive toe-tapping
jam. Without the incredibly
catchy anthems found on Hot
Fuss, Sam’s Town ultimately
lacks a substantive base.
The Killers take
themselves too seriously, and
the negative effects manifest
not only musically, but
lyrically. Flowers struggles to
establish a deeper meaning
to his lyrics, but he lacks the
literary skill to pull off the
lofty metaphors he shoots
The Killers for. Lines such as “he doesn’t
look a thing like Jesus” fall
Sam’s Town flat and leave the listener
must continue to
pursue musical adaptation
and evolution. Next time
we want to see them do something unique,
Gregory Dona
the point of seeming stale at times. The
worst offenders are “Mr. High & Mighty,”
which follows in the same vein as “Mr.
Man” from Déjà Voodoo and the Free cover
“Mr. Big” (see a pattern here?) from their
1995 self-titled debut. Not to mention
“Nothing Again,” which is such a rehash
of Voodoo’s “Little Toy Brain” that Haynes
can’t help but play a nearly identical solo.
If you’re already
a Mule fan, High &
Mighty is an album
worth getting excited
over. This band is at
its best in comfortable
classic-rock territory,
as evidenced by the
disappointing reggae
experiment “Unring The
Bell.” If at times a little of music. They manage to meld widely
too formulaic, the album
is still altogether good.
The arrangements
Gov’t Mule are generally an
High & Mighty improvement over Déjà
Louis’s keyboard parts
Red Ink mesh a little better with
the rest of the band, and
approach this album expecting the band to
break new ground, you’ll be disappointed.
However, if you’re looking for more of the
Mule you have come to know and love,
then by all means, pick up the album.
Noah Hall
Gov’t Mule’s original bassist, Allen Woody, died of a heart attack in 2000.
Andy Hess, bassist for the Black Crowes, currently tours with the band.
The Mars Volta
Amputechture
Release Date: Sept. 12, 2006
Universal Records
I’m baffled. I don’t get it. The Mars
Volta should not be in the Billboard 200
(peaking at No. 9). The general public
should not like them, but it does. Granted,
they did have the advantage of riding the
coattails of At The Drive-In, and have John
Frusciante and Flea of the Red Hot Chili
Peppers playing on their albums. But come
on, their songs are long, bombastic, and
lack structure. However, I guess once in a
while a band receives recognition for being
one of the most adventurous Progressive
Rock bands out there.
This is their third album since
their debut in 2003. While it is not as
mind-boggling as their debut or as
uncompromising as their sophomore
effort, The Mars Volta really hit their stride
with this one. The album encompasses
all that has made the ‘70s Prog bands
legendary: breaking new grounds without
sounding contrived. Rather than abusing
the old template, they bring back what
makes this style progressive: being bold
and taking risks in their composition
differing influences ranging from Metal,
Classic Rock and Latin music into organic
songs. To be sure, there’s the meandering
of ambient passages and the seemingly
endless guitar solos which some might
find annoying. For fans, though, that’s
the beauty of The Mars Volta – they do not
cater to cookie-cutter conceptions of what
music should be.
So thanks to the Volta, Prog is back in
the spotlight, where it used to be in the
days of Genesis, King Crimson, Pink Floyd
and Yes. In sum, this is an outstanding
work of art that has to be appreciated to its
fullest. I suggest headphones!
Henrik Bliddal

Mogwai
Mr. Beast
Release Date: Mar. 6, 2006
Matador Records
Mr. Beast is not just the title of Mogwai’s
latest album – it’s a metaphor for the
music they create. Each track is an animal
that seethes, growls, and purrs. With the
explostion of Young Team onto the scene,
Mogwai redefined a genre and gave life
to a creature that would spawn multiple
bands for years to come. If the long, epic
tracks of their earlier albums were the
untamed animals of the post-rock world,
this latest album takes these beasts and
tacks on a title to their names. Call it “Mr.”
Beast.
“Auto Rock” opens with a simple
piano melody, growing in force as synth
counterparts and a pounding drum beat
bring the track to a peak. This is the new,
sophisticated sound of Mogwai. There is
still that undeniable power and intensity
in each track, but you can feel the reins
being pulled in ever so slightly. The tracks
sound clean and crisp, the muzzle is
strapped a little tighter. Tracks like “Team
Handed,” “Friend of the Night,” and
“Emergency Night” possess the grace and
elegance of the New York Philharmonic.
The increased piano presence contributes
to creating this pleasant sensation. The
simple melodies swell and spread,
exploring more complex rhythms and
sounds. In particular, “Team Handed”
has a beautiful piano melody that shifts
from a lullaby to a sonata and back again.
A lighter touch can be felt all around,
creating the sensation that the album fears
breaking the silence that falls between
each key of the piano.
Yet, whatever happened to the Mogwai
we knew? Where are the cutting, searing
tracks that would have our ears splitting
and our hands turning up the volume?
“Glasgow Mega-Snake” brings back the
sharp sound of distorted guitars and
crashing drums and delivers the intensity
of older Mogwai. Honestly, how can a
song with the word “Mega-Snake” not be
the rocker of the album? The song crushes
as much rage as it can in less than four
minutes. The live version on the album
is even better, and shows the absolute
power Mogwai can explode with given
the chance. Not much can awe the senses
like the tried-and-true combination of a
hard guitar riff and a thrashing drum beat. and growth, the song takes your mind,
A track similar to “Glasgow Mega-Snake” wraps it around a mesmerizing pedal steel,
is “We’re No Here,” another heavy-hitting and fazes you in to whatever daydream
post-rock episode of the Mogwai of the you want. Aptly named, “Acid Food”
past. The sole purpose of “We’re No Here” comes as the drug of choice of the album.
seems to be drawing as much sound as Mr. Beast isn’t a Young Team. It’s not
possible out of their instruments and even a Come on Die Young. Instead, it’s a
“
expelling a riot of the loud and angry. grown-up version of the smashing tracks
The theme of restraint seems to be a of their earlier albums. None of the songs
constant in Mr. Beast, limiting yet reach the six minute mark, while past
controlling their epics like “Mogwai
potential. In Fear Satan” on
tracks like “I ...[“Acid Food”] takes your Young Team reached
Chose Horses,” fifteen minutes or
which feature mind, wraps it around a more. The album
”
a combination
of a soft, slow mesmerizing pedal steel, portends greatness;
it just needs the
mix of guitars
and synth with
and fazes you in to whatever time and space
to realize what it
the comforting daydream you want. can become. The
spoken Japanese harder, post-rock
of Tetsuya Fukagawa of the hardcore band tracks could use more freedom in
Envy, the self-control is reassuring. The song expanding and swelling to the grand sizes
chooses not to go places, but instead to wax of Mogwai’s earlier songs. While maybe
and wane gradually within its boundaries. lacking in scope and ambition, the album
“Acid Food,” another vocal track, is one finds beauty in Mogwai’s newfound
of the shining moments of Mr. Beast. The minimalism. The piano sings softly and the
steady background complements the lyrics drum hits clean and crisp to craft a new
perfectly – “we learnt them as we went / direction. Mogwai says it best themselves:
forgot them straight away / the ones we left “we’ll come back the other way.”
behind / the ones we sent away.” Almost
as if Mogwai describes its own progression Leon Chang
Over the course of the last two years,
Steve Lawler has distinctly changed his
style as a DJ. Long gone are the days of
“Dark Drums.” The tribal house style
with which Lawler built his reputation
has been replaced by a mix of minimal
techno and synth-driven electro,
reflecting a recent trend that has seen
many DJs (Lee Burridge, James Lavelle,
and even John Digweed) making this
transition to a more “electro” sound.
While Lawler’s shift has managed to
retain his signature grittiness, it has
drawn rather harsh criticism, having
occurred more rapidly than the pace at
which the average DJ evolves his or her Steve Lawler
style. Viva
The first release from what will be
a three part commercial series entitled
Release Date: June 27, 2006
“Viva,” the mix distinguishes its three Viva
discs as separate “days.” The first disc
is a warm-up, the second a peak-time “Jah,” and the Tiefschwarz remix of
set, and the third an after-hours session. Lindstrom’s “I Feel Space.”
Disc one is heavy on the synths, with Disc three’s after-hours mix is full of
thicker drum patterns and more vocals obscure down tempo and ambient tracks.
than the other two discs. Nothing When big room DJs experiment with
groundbreaking, but the best disc to down tempo mixes, the result is very
listen to at home or in the car. unpredictable. Lawler’s attempt, while
Disc two, the peak-time set, sounds comprised of interesting songs, falls flat.
most similar to what Lawler has been Sometimes mixed and sometimes just
playing in nightclubs. Although the faded, the third disc lacks cohesion and
tracks are minimalist in nature and create comes across as rather boring.
significant energy, tension and a tangibly All in all, Viva is a very solid release
darker feel, despite dub-heavy drums and will probably prove to be one of the
and simpler synths that, at times, lack year’s best. Lawler proves that although
any real melody. The driving bass lines, his signature tribal drums have been
accompanied with punchier drums, reduced to something far more minimal,
result in a minimal, yet big room sound. the grittiness that characterized his earlier
This is my favorite of the three, featuring style is still very much in effect.
highlight tracks such as the Misc. remix
of Trick & Cubic’s “Easy” M.A.N.D.Y.’s Mike Selvin

Kaki King
...Until We Felt Red
Release Date: Aug. 8, 2006
Velour Recordings
Kaki King has come a long way since
her debut release “Everybody Loves
You,” a showcase of her unbelievable and
unprecedented acoustic guitar technique.
There were virtually no lyrics or non-
guitar instrumentation on the entire
record. I was shocked that her sophomore
effort “Legs to Make Us Longer” contained
sparing use of drums, vocals, and other
added layers to her trademark sound. Now
on her third record, “…until we felt red,”
she has completely transformed into a
singer and multi-instrumentalist who uses
full arrangements and prominent vocals in
many songs. While it is very different from
her old sound, I think “…until we felt red”
might be Kaki’s best yet.
Kaki’s vocals sound like those of a
ghost, the most benign beautiful ghost
imaginable. They are gorgeous and
haunting but at no point threatening.
Instead they sound inspired and other-
worldy. The opening track “yellowcake”
provides not only some of the most
appealing guitar on the album, but also
a vocal arrangement that stands your
hairs on end. The non-vocal additions are
unpredictable and eclectic, including lap
steel, Wurlitzer, heavy bass, flugelhorn,
dulcimer, some mild electronic elements…
the list goes on. On one song Kaki is
credited with playing “a bowl of corn.”
There is even a touch of distortion here
and there, but only on deep bass and
various floating sounds.
Both structurally and instrumentally,
King has taken her songwriting to an
entirely new level of sophistication. Tracks
such as “you don’t have to be afraid” are
able to take us to many different worlds in
a single song, something King was never
able to do as a solo guitarist. The songs are
generally both appealing and interesting,
easy listening with heavy thinking. The
guitar is still the most prominent part
of the arrangement. The acoustic guitar
sound is intricate and gorgeous with a
What would be the product of three
of America’s top corporate forces – Nike,
Apple, and Fox Broadcasting Company
– coming together for a musical project?
Apparently, their combined influence
results in a 45 minute and 33 second track energized and performing at his peak.
from “OC” darlings
LCD Soundsystem.
Nike merged their
fitness prowess
with a group made
popular by Fox’s hit
show to mastermind
a jogging oriented,
iTunes exclusive track.
The group mixed
their addictive dance
beats, showcased on
media phenomenon
“The OC,” with
Nike’s image to LCD Soundsystem workout.
craft a musically
impressive track 45:33: Nike+Original Run as a standalone track,
tailored perfectly for Release Date: Oct. 17, 2006 “45:33: Nike+ Original
the jogging hipster. Nike (iTunes only) Run”
A passive beat eases
the listener into a comfortable jog
before introducing breathy, rhythmic
whisperings calling for a slight
acceleration. As the song progresses,
the pace picks up, pitches elevate, and
more sporadic noises arrive, all of which
indicate a need to kick the conditioning
into full gear. Trippy blips frantically
scattered throughout the tune subtly
My Morning Jacket
Okonokos (Live)
Release Date: Sept. 26, 2006
Ato Records
consummate frenzy of finger-picking,
harmonics and an innumerable variety of
other techniques. My biggest complaint
with the record however, is her neglect of
the “slap guitar” styling that put her on
the map in the first place. Perhaps she felt
that now, with the use of drums, it was
not necessary to call upon the percussive
nature of her old slap guitar. Ironically,
though, these new songs are much less
percussive than her older work, even with
the addition of drums. There are a handful
of instrumental songs, and lots of time
spent on solo guitar, but at no point do we
even get a hint of “Everybody Loves You.”
However, her sound has evolved and
spark the adrenaline of the runner and
extended background moans provide
additional motivation to keep pushing. As
fatigue begins to set in, an amalgamation
of horns motivate the athlete to keep him
These fade and give way
to the quickest time frame
yet. The body naturally
picks up on the frequent
aural vibrations and
responds with an inspired
last push to the finish line.
This rapid thrust peters
out and surrenders to
a charming assortment
of chimes and various
other mellowing sounds,
ensuring a relaxing
consummation of the
Although appealing
truly shines by
perfectly complementing
a 45 minute run. The band achieves
flawless timing – its ability to motivate
lagging muscles just as they begin to
give way proves exceptional throughout.
Many wondered how LCD Soundsystem
could improve upon their 2005 double disc
release. This function-specific project is a
worthy start.
Gregory Dona
After capturing thousands of new fans with
their brilliant album Z, it seems only proper
that MMJ would provide a live album to not
only give a taste of their legendary live shows
(the 3 and a half hour set from Bonnaroo this
year comes to mind), but also to give new fans
a glimpse into their older catalog. The band
is tight and energetic throughout, shifting
seamlessly from the old to the new, but the
listener is left wanting a bit more. Perhaps
the lack of true improvisation in the solos
plays a part, but it’s the total lack of contact
with the audience that is most unsettling. I
may be spoiled from listening to dozens of
Pearl Jam boots that each have at least one
hilarious story in them, but really the only
indication that this is a “live” album is the
audience noise that filters in at the end of half
the songs. It’s truly a shame, because MMJ is
truly capable of putting together a landmark
live album— but this certainly isn’t it.
Chris Symeonides
improved in so many other ways that there
is simply no time to dwell on the past.
In the end the album is reminiscent
of classical music but led by more
modern elements. There is a distinct jazz
influence, with a little rock and roll as
well as some noise on the side. Its all very
low key, but involving; something that
you’ll be able to use as bedtime music,
but only once you’ve listened to it a
couple times to get your head around it.
Otherwise it will keep you awake with
images of brilliant red snow and molten
hot guitar strings zipping through your
hair. Yikes.
Bart McGuire

Beck
The Information
US Release Date: Oct. 3, 2006
Interscope
The Roots studio
Game Theory four minutes of anguished-soul wails,
US Release Date: Aug. 29, 2006 percolating percussion, and a bridge that
Def Jam the warpath. Only the closer, an 8-minute
“
Since their inception as “The Hip-Hop
Band” more than a decade ago, The Roots
have struggled
to translate their
musical prowess Make no mistake: this is
into popularity.
After their the best Roots album yet.
lackluster The
Tipping Point (2004),
with its silly attempts at club-fare, it
seemed that the boys from Illadelph were
doomed to be forever name-dropped by
only palefaces and hipsters.
Not quite. It seems that the band spent
their leave listening to Public Enemy’s It
Takes a Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back,
and have answered that manifesto with
one of their own. The songs are terse and
dark, woven together in one long suite of
gnarly funk. Drummer/guru ?uestlove’s
production is as exciting as any Bomb
Squad track, and he still makes the skins
crack and pop like no other. Black Thought
is focused and articulate; he flows like Ron
Hubbard played – no showboating, just
polished delivery. His lyrics are all barely-
O ne of the greatest things about Beck is
his ability to completely change styles
every album. From noise-rock to folk
to mournful acoustic ballads to Prince-
style audio sex, Beck has shown himself
capable of a great many distinct styles.
However, it looks like Beck has finally run
out of ideas. His previous album, Guero,
was a straightforward no-frills album, a
re-treading of territory already explored.
Now, The Information reveals a surprising
lack of progress, featuring the same new
flavor – plain. Beck has now dedicated two
consecutive albums to a middling rehash
of his earlier works. Centered on what
an arithmetic mean of Beck would sound
like, all the tracks lean slightly one way
or the other; some folksy, some balladic,
some slightly hip-hop, with halfhearted
folk guitar and a dash of turntable samples
throughout.
But it’s not just that Beck is reheating
his earlier albums – The Information repeats
suppressed panic and anger: “When the
refrigerator naked and the cupboard is
bare/ People got to strip naked, stick ‘em
up in the air/ Was it lies when they told
you wasn’t nothin’ to fear?” he asks the
man on the street. That bare-cupboard
uneasiness works its way into every line;
the closest Thought gets to romance is the
rape and victimization of “Baby” – not
very close. Behind him, the band skips the
flaccid jams that marred earlier albums
and reminds us that they are the tightest
unit since P-Funk went into orbit. Make no
mistake: this is the best Roots album yet.
?uestlove’s growing skill behind the
boards transmutes the once childish
trickery into magic. Lead single
“Don’t Feel Right” is the showstopper:
sounds like Herbie Hancock’s clavinet on
canonization of the late producer J Dilla,
fails to compel. The rest of the material
is uniformly strong; even as the music
”
industry follows
the iTunes Pied
Piper back to
the old days of
singles and pop
confectionary,
The Roots have
released an honest-to-goodness album.
It is worthy of purchase and extensive
headphone time. Bravo.
Mark Davenport
My album
sucks! =(
–The Staff
itself throughout. “Think I’m in Love”
and “Soldier Jane” are the same damn
song. (Tired Cliché Alert: Beck sings that
he “Thinks [he’s] in love” but it “makes
[him] kind of nervous to say so.”) The voice
sample that begins the album pops up
again midway through, and the bass line for
“Cellphone’s Dead” reappears on the last
track. “New Round” sports a tedious and
repetitive two-note swivel that is later copied
by “Motorcade.” One almost feels that Beck
is stretching just to reach the one hour mark.
Lazy and uninspired, The Information
pays lip service to the breadth of Beck’s
style while demonstrating none of it, but
it’s the timing that’s most worrisome. By
following up Guero with more of the same,
Beck could well be dedicating himself to
writing garden-variety junk the rest of his
days. Download “Elevator Music” and
“Cellphone’s Dead” and never look back.
Joseph B. Hilgard
Every issue we provide our predictions on
some upcoming releases, and next issue we’ll
see how they panned out.
Modest Mouse
We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank
Release: March 20, 2007
With legendary guitarist Johnny
Marr (formerly of The Smiths)
joining Mouse as a full-time
member, this album is sure to be strong a
follow-up to 2004’s Good News for People
Who Love Bad News. Expect typical Mod-
est Mouse melodies infused with Marr’s
disinctive high energy riffs.
Klaxons
Myths of the Near Future
Release: January 29, 2007 (UK)
Heralded as Britain’s hottest new group,
Klaxons will not live up to the hype.
Their album, which is due out in the
U.S. later this year, will inevitably fall
short, leaving us ever searching for the
next great hope from overseas.
Arcade Fire
Neon Bible
Release: March 5, 2007
We’re cheating. We’ve heard it. It’s
good.
Radiohead
[Currently Untitled]
Release: “Sometime in 2007”
If you liked The Bends, then legit. If Kid A
and Amnesiac were more your style, then
shit. This album will rock like it’s 1995.
A Conversation With:
Jon Appleton
Jon Appleton joined Dartmouth’s music department back in 1967. His achievements at Dartmouth since then have been impressive. He is the co-
inventor of the NED Synclavier, which is regarded as the first self-contained digital music synthesizer. Winner of the Guggenheim, Fulbright and
National Endowment for the Arts fellowships, Appleton also created the College’s graduate program in electro-acoustic music. Tim Bakke and Brian
Lenz got a chance to sit down with Professor Appleton to discuss his achievements, the state of electro-acoustic music, and his teaching experiences at
Dartmouth. At the end of this fall, he will be leaving Dartmouth’s undergraduate program after 35 years for a visiting professor’s position at Stanford.

SB: What initially turned you in the
direction of electro-acoustic music? Was
it the excitement of uncharted territory?
Or maybe it was easier to make a name?
JA: No, it wasn’t easier to make a name
because nobody knew what electro-
acoustic music was when I started. I
was actually quite traditional before I
discovered electro-acoustic music. Once I
started to play around with the primitive
equipment we used in those days, I found
that I was making a kind of music that was
really interesting and that I liked. So that
was an important part of it.
SB: Coming up with music that is not
necessarily groundbreaking but new and
unique seems to be increasingly difficult
these days. Do you agree with that?
JA: It’s much harder today than it was in
the late sixties. My first electronic piece
was in 1963, but I didn’t really gain a
reputation until the late sixties/early
seventies – I think that was because things
were much more open back then. There
was bigger interest in alternative music
culture, and today we’ve hit a low spot
because of the complete control of most
of the outlets by a few major corporations
that continue to buy each other out.
So pretty soon you have just 2 or 3 big
corporations that are controlling the rights
for music throughout the United States.
These companies basically decide what we
listen to. But this will be very short-lived,
I think, because people are sick of hearing
the same thing over and over. Also, as the
means for music distribution by the net
become more the usual channel…maybe it
already is. Anyway, I started working on
the synclavier back in 1973. That was when
John Kemeny was president of Dartmouth,
and he used to tell people, “Someday
everyone will have a computer in their
home.” Everyone would laugh, because
in those days computers were things that
filled entire buildings. Do you know what
the Kiewit Center was? That was built just
for a computer. It had miles of cabinets
housing a huge computer less powerful
than a Powerbook G4. So people just
couldn’t believe that it could be possible.
Similarly, they couldn’t believe that you
could have a musical instrument based on
a computer you have in your home. Well,
that didn’t deter me.
SB: We have the benefit of having the
synthesizer around for so long, with
so many different means of electronic
innovation. To even imagine that back
when you were starting must have been
so immensely difficult or trying of a task
– to picture where that can go. In the
present day, do you see any paths that
have yet to have been explored?
JA: Yes I do, but when I tell people they
think it’s a crazy idea.
SB: Most innovative ideas start out like
that, I think.
JA: Did I ever give you that article about
the brain cap when you were in my
class? The idea behind the brain cap is

that by using magnetic resonances you
understand what your favorite music
is, based on all your experiences about
music, your collected emotional, acoustic
information and the way it is stored in
many different places of the brain.
Read the article. It is called “A Vision of
the Future: Musical Delivery Systems
in the Mid-21st Century.” That is what I
foresee in the future.
SB: You were talking about the
development process of the synclavier.
You said you weren’t discouraged by the
fact that it seemed outrageous. Were there
any major setbacks or hurdles?
JA: No, the main hurdle was finding
interested companies to produce this
musical instrument, because their vision
was so narrow that they couldn’t even
conceive of how they could be used. I
can give you a perfect example of that.
What we developed in that instrument
was the first live sequencer, where you
could play on a keyboard and push a
button and it would play it right back.
That had never existed before: you had
to put it on tape and rewind the tape
to play it back. And they all have that
now, but when we showed it to people
they thought it was a trick, they didn’t
believe that it was commercially feasible;
they couldn’t accept it. Eventually
one company did, but it was easier for
my co-developers to start their own
company and try to sell it, so they did.
It was called New England Digital
Corporation.
SB: I read in your “incomplete”
autobiography that you were discouraged
that when you were performing, the
audiences were more interested in the
technology than they were in your music.
Did that make you lose hope?
JA: It didn’t make me lose hope, it just
made me less interested in being a
performer.
SB: Did it make you doubt your choice to
enter the electro-acoustic world?
JA: No. I always knew there were people
who really liked what I did, but those
weren’t necessarily the people who were
showing up at the concerts.
SB: What do you think of the current
state of electronic music?
JA: Well, I think it is very interesting
that when I started in this field, it was
something quite separate and unique. It
was a kind of music that was completely
different from the music that other
people knew or what they even thought
of as music. And today, that’s changed
completely. It has all been incorporated,
bits and pieces of it from everything; from
rap to synthesizer stuff to the whole idea
of people doing records where not a single
musician gets together in the same room
“
I really enjoy teaching.
However, a lot of people
who are in academia do
not. They do it as way of
supporting themselves
to do their research or,
in my case, composition,
”
but they don’t really
take [any] pleasure in it.
– it’s all recorded and assembled. Even
synthesized voices are becoming better.
There’s no question, for example, that
if you really want new tunes by Frank
Sinatra, you can have them. It’s just a
question of developing the technology to
capture the nuances of the way he sang.
I don’t know that people are particularly
interested, but there are so many projected
possibilities of manipulated digital audio
in ways that are really mind-blowing. The
real question is: “How do you interest
people in trying something new?”
SB: Do you know anyone now who is
doing what you were doing, making
totally radical or different or unique
music?
JA: Do you know John Zorn? Check him
out. I think that he does very unusual
things. There’s also a musician by the
name of Michelle Redolfi. Look them up
on the web. Their work is so complicated
that I can’t quite explain it. They’re not
complicated to experience, it’s just that you
have to see the range of things that they
do. Let’s see, who else. I also find DJ Olive
and a Montreal DJ named Kid Koala very
interesting. Those are some directions that
I think are new.
SB: What initially inspired you to start
teaching?
JA: I really enjoy teaching. However, a
lot of people who are in academia do
not. They do it as way of supporting
themselves to do their research or, in
my case, composition, but they don’t
really take pleasure in it. I think that
what happened is that when I went to
college – and I went to Reed College – I
had some really dedicated teachers, and
they inspired me to do the same thing.
It made such a difference: people who
took the time to talk to me, to listen to my
aspirations and goals, to introduce me to
new things, not to hit me over the head ­– I
just think that’s important.
SB: In your autobiography, I know you
mentioned your stepfather Sasha as
giving the gift of music to you.
JA: Well, he did. But that was pre-school.

New
England
Digital’s
synclavier
I was six when he came into my life. And
so, I was just surrounded by music. But
I think I was musical before that. I do
believe that there are genetic propensities
toward musicality. There’s no question
about it. I think there are a lot of people
who never develop them or never have
the opportunity but I think that it’s there,
and it’s not the only way to do it. I teach
everything – I have taught basic theory,
harmony, and all of that. But I think in
this particular field [of electro-acoustic
music], you can bypass traditional musical
training and get at the heart of people’s
essential musical abilities. And that’s really would you suggest to them in that pursuit
SB: Where do you see the music
department going at Dartmouth?
JA: I think the music department is in very
serious trouble right now because it’s been
split into two. There is a very conservative
group who would like to get rid of all of
the composers and experimentation
in electro-acoustic music, and I
think it’s a very sad situation.
All you have to do is go
interview someone like
William Summers.
Go ask him what
he thinks
of electro-
acoustic
music. See
what he tells
you. He doesn’t
believe that
there’s been
any good music
written since 1900.
So the fact that you can
tolerate people like that,
well I guess you can tolerate
anybody then. You don’t have to
like music to know that it’s moving
forward and that new kinds of music are
coming around and being discovered and
people are enjoying it! It may not be what
you personally like! You have to be able
to separate yourself from your taste when
assessing the quality of music. And a lot of
people are not able to.
SB: You aren’t going to be here much
longer. As a closing question, for any
student who’s interested in pursuing an
experimental direction in music, what
These are very difficult abilities to attain,
but they are very important. I don’t think,
to be honest, that someone needs to study
music at Dartmouth to become a good
musician. I just don’t think that. When
I went to Reed College, they had one
music professor and maybe five courses
in music. I did it by myself. I got together
with players who wanted to play my
music, and I learned just by doing it. I
still think that that’s not a bad way. Music
courses in theory can help you along, but
they can also cripple you. Because you
don’t want to know what the rules are
to make music: there are no rules! There
are rules of good taste, but nobody wrote
those down in a book. There aren’t any
rules to what could be music or what’s
going to sound good. You have to make
your rules. Now it’s good to know about
the past, just like you’re not going to
invent the light bulb without knowing
something about electricity, conductivity,
and so forth. Just like you should know
something about basic science before
you invent something, you should know
something about basic music, what
people have done in music in the past,
before you compose something. But aside
from that, I guess that the more music
you listen to, the more sophisticated you
will become in your taste, and that will
automatically transfer over into what
you do as a composer. You don’t need to
study it. Studying music really sometimes
does cripple you. Just doing it and being
critical of yourself and being persistent
are most important.

“
good. That’s what makes it exciting, and here at Dartmouth?
that’s why in my undergraduate class
right now you can see JA: If you are at
that these are kids Dartmouth, I think
who would never you should get to
have done anything To make a career in know Larry Polanski, John Zorn
like that, and all of
a sudden they’re music you have to have only a professor here. Not
am I leaving, Eric
Check out Zorn’s 2006 re-
making pieces in persistence. A belief Lyon left last year, so lease, Astronome. This Avant-
ways they never
thought about, and you can attain your going to replace us.
who knows who is Garde album functions as a
it’s fun for them. goals, whether you are a They haven’t made three-act aural play.
any decisions, so I
SB: Because performer or composer. don’t know who will
otherwise they be here. DJ Olive
would need to spend That you can deal with
a long time learning discouragement [or] that SB: Maybe even Gregor Asch (aka DJ Olive)
the fundamentals of looking further, once
you’re willing to listen you leave Dartmouth, put out Heaps As, Live in Tas-
musical theory.
to criticism, but also that do you have any mania in 2006. The listener

”
JA: That’s right! This advice for making
you are willing to be any sort of career out friendly album combines ele-
way you jump ahead
ments of reggae, funk, dance-
with the technology
critical of your own work. of it?
that enables you to hall, and Latin flavor.
do that. JA: Oh that’s a very
simple question to
SB: This is your last term at Dartmouth, answer. To make a career in music you
right? have to have persistence. A belief you Kid Koala
can attain your goals, whether you are a Head to http://www.djkoala.
JA: Well no, I teach a graduate seminar performer or composer. That you can deal
next summer and the summer after. And with discouragement, that you’re willing com and click on his dome.
then in the springs I teach at Stanford. to listen to criticism, but also that you are
willing to be critical of your own work.
Hope I don’t die before i get old:
On their website they have set up
a mock online petition to Congress
to make ketchup America’s official
national condiment, wryly condemning
the “increasing ubiquity of soy sauce,
Branston Pickle, sriracha, chutney and the
scourge of undocumented salsas on our
tables.” That should tell you a great deal
of what you need to know about the three
seasoned veterans of the indie rock scene
that make up the band Yo La
Tengo.
Releasing their Sonic
Youth-inspired debut album,
Ride the Tiger, in 1986, they
have since become standard-
bearers for the entire indie
rock movement, hailed by
critics and fans alike as
one of the most innovative
and consistently exciting of
contemporary bands. Their
blend of ironic humor, naked
emotion, and amplifier-
crushing noise rock
pyrotechnics has proven
enduring. Their live shows
continue to be a celebration
of pure rock energy unlike
almost anything around
today. And to top it off, they
have just released, at the
onset of their third decade as
a performing unit, an album
may just be the best of their
career. I Am Not Afraid of
You and I Will Beat Your Ass
does not really take Yo La
Tengo in any decidedly new
directions, but it acts as a
blissfully perfect summation
of their past achievements.
The album starts out with
“Pass the Hatchet, I Think
I’m Goodkind,” a ten-
minute blast of distorted
riffs and tight grooves laden
with guitar feedback that
recalls their early days as
Sonic Youth imitators. But
their real strength as a band
becomes apparent once they move into
more tightly constructed songs.
Lead guitarist and singer Ira Kaplan got
his start as a music critic, and he and his
wife, drummer Georgia Hubley, possess
an encyclopedic knowledge of 20th-century
pop music, a fact reflected in the great
stylistic variety of their songs. Indeed,
throughout their career Yo La Tengo’s
albums have been littered with elements
Yo La Tengo Getting Better with Age
of country, jazz, electronica, psychedelic
rock, and classic Brill Building pop, most
often filtered through the lens of their
signature hazy, atmospheric sound. The
earliest prominent example is the 1995
album Electr-O-Pura, which features,
alongside sleepy ballads and extended
feedback jams, the irresistibly catchy “Tom
Courtenay,” a song about the Swinging
London of the 60s that would fit right into
the Beatles’ catalogue were it not for the
amplifiers being turned up to eleven and
the ending devolving into a noisy and
atonal, yet exciting, guitar solo that ends
up drowning out all other sound. Their
next album, 1997’s I Can Hear the Heart
Beating as One, boasted an even greater
stylistic diversity and has proven one
of their most popular efforts. Yet, most
representative of Yo La Tengo’s deep love
of even the most obscure of popular culture
is their 1990 album Fakebook, a collection
of covers of forgotten gems from the pop
canon ranging from the Kinks (“Oklahoma,
U.S.A.”) to the Holy Modal Rounders
(“Griselda”) to indie culture darling and
total nutcase Daniel Johnston (“Speeding
Motorcycle”).
But to my mind, Yo La Tengo’s
masterpiece (aside from the superb new
album) remains 2000’s And Then Nothing
Turned Itself Inside-Out, an
album composed mostly of
quietly beautiful songs about
the joys and pains of mature
love and relationships.
It’s their most textured,
atmospheric work, generally
told from the point of view
of suburban loners taking
comfort in each other’s
company in the late hours
of the night. There are still
the cheeky pop culture
references (as in the brilliant
“Let’s Save Tony Orlando’s
House”) and distorted
guitar workouts (“Cherry
Chapstick”), but the heart of
the album lies in songs like
the lilting “Crying of Lot G”
and the country-esque ballad
“Tears Are in Your Eyes.”
Perhaps Yo La Tengo’s most
moving (not to mention
gorgeous) song, the latter is
filled with close harmonies,
yearning guitar lines, bursts
of distant feedback, and
delicately brushed drums.
Nevertheless, And Then
Nothing was greeted with
mixed reviews in some
quarters, with a number of
critics complaining that Yo La
Tengo had abandoned their
rock roots and were drifting
into a sort of comfortable
Starbucks coffee-sipping
middle age.
Their latest album has
not only proven this theory
untrue but confirms that they remain at the
top of their game and are one of the most
vital artistic forces in music today. As they
embark on their fall North American and
European tour, they can be pretty confident
that, indeed, not many bands can beat their
ass.
 Waiting for the Day
The 40th Anniversary of
PET SOUNDS
It’s okay. You can admit it: the Beach
Boys have been collecting dust in your
music collection (and your heart) for a
while now. If you ever did “wish they all
could be California girls,” the sentiment
has long faded. Harmony and 32-bar
songs no longer strike your fancy. Calling
surf music “dated” is an understatement.
I understand.
Now, my turn: remove Pet Sounds
from your shelf. Immediately. I don’t
care if you hate the Beach Boys (or do
not like demands being made of you via
magazine). Pet Sounds is underplayed. It
deserves better. In fact, its 40th birthday
deserves a look back at the history and
legacy of this landmark album. Let’s give
Pet Sounds what it deserves, starting now.
At the start of 1966, the Beach
Boys had achieved success through
popularizing “surf rock”, cranking out
16 top-40 hits such as “Surfin’ USA”
and “I Get Around.” Front-man Brian
Wilson, however, was experiencing
rapid creative growth that undermined
his interest in the band. 1965 marked
Wilson’s introduction to LSD, as well
as his decision to stop touring with the
Beach Boys. It was in 1965 that Wilson
began laying the ideological groundwork
for Pet Sounds, though he himself did
not understand where his new “brand”
of pop music was going. In the end, it
was the release of the Beatles’ Rubber
Soul that provided Wilson with both the
competitive drive and the inspiration
for his new album. The new promise
of Rubber Soul was twofold: both its
emotional range and its track-to-track
coherence were jarring to Wilson.
In January 1966, Wilson bought a
house outside of L.A. and called on
relatively unknown songwriter Tony
Asher to help write lyrics for his inspired
creation. By having nothing to do with
the Beach Boys, Wilson gained the
obsessive creative control he had desired
for years, and the two went to work
recording in Wilson’s home. This shift
is crucial to understanding Pet Sounds.
Wilson stepped entirely outside of the
Beach Boys and used the band strictly
as performers of his music. Rarely has
an individual had Wilson’s level of
creative control in the composition
and production of an album. Wilson’s
painstaking perfectionism was well-
suited for the task.
What emerged was nothing if not
revolutionary. Wilson’s tendency towards
working abstractly and intuitively led
to an album that was conceived of as
a whole, and built as such from the
ground up (think of Pet Sounds as you
would an impressionist painting, or
grassroots political movement). Wilson
recorded individual riffs, harmonies,
or other such pieces weeks apart from
one another, layering and building on
different parts of a track before it was
conceived of as a whole. A concept that
was itself innovative, this layering also
accounts for the unconventional sounds
and instrumentation on the album (listen
for Wilson’s dog at the end of Caroline,
No). The one-man, intensely theoretical
approach to making an album is the source
of the compositional genius that one senses
while listening to I’m Waiting for the Day or
the title track, Pet Sounds.
The second important feature of Pet
Sounds is its treatment of the album as an
art form. In the 1960’s, most LP’s were
constructed by stringing a few “singles”
together with other songs whose primary
function was to add length. Pet Sounds
departs from this. It has been suggested
that Pet Sounds functions as a concept
album: a narration from a teenage boy’s
perspective on the angst of finding and
losing love. This explanation functions
well, but fails in explaining the adapted
folksong, Sloop John B. More important
than debating the presence or lack of
lyrical congruence, however, is the
emotional breadth and depth of Pet
Sounds. Beginning with the lofty romance
of “Wouldn’t It Be Nice,” the listener is
swept into a journey that encompasses
a remarkable range of emotion. The
instrumental tracks on the album (“Let’s
Go Away for a While” and “Pet Sounds”)
build on this range despite their lack of
narration.
Pet Sounds was released on May 16,
1966. It was the first album since the Beach
Boys initial success to not go gold, and was
passed on at that year’s Grammy Awards.
Capitol Records was equally disappointed
by the album, and did little to promote
it. Though it floundered in the U.S., there
were a number of key figures listening
across the pond. Pet Sounds gained fans
amongst British critics and artists, amongst
them John Cale and Elton John. Eric
Clapton was another Pet Sounds devotee
at the time. Clapton later said, “I’ve often
played Pet Sounds and cried.”
Most famous of Pet Sounds listeners,
of course, were John Lennon and Paul
McCartney. The two reportedly heard Pet
Sounds prior to its release, while recording
Revolver, and adjusted the album in
response to Wilson’s compositional
complexity. McCartney in particular was
a devout fan of Wilson’s; his fascination
with Wilson’s tension-forming bass lines
(look to tracks such as “That’s Not Me”)
would surface in subsequent Beatles
recordings (“Fixing a Hole,” for example).
The 1967 release of Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely
Hearts Club Band was the final chapter
in the rivalry between the Beatles and
the Beach Boys, taking Wilson’s ideas on
composition, instrumentation, and the
album itself a step further. On the whole,
the desire to “beat” Pet Sounds led to an
album that legitimized pop music as an
art (at least for a time), and popularized
Pet Sounds’ spin on both psychedelic
and conceptual pop. Even the emotional
range and percussion-heavy composition
(listen to the percussion on “Within You
Without You”) are reminiscent of Wilson’s
masterpiece.
The release of Pet Sounds marked
the beginning of the end for Wilson. He
descended into a spiral of mental illness
and drug abuse that would dominate the
next 20 years of his life. Consequently,
he was fired from the Beach Boys in
1982. For a time, it seemed that both
Wilson and Pet Sounds had passed their
moment in the limelight. However, the
1990’s marked a comeback for both
parties: Brian Wilson reemerged onto the
popular scene, and Pet Sounds took on
a new life. Recently, critics have hailed
the importance of the album. It was
recognized on several “millennium”-
type lists of important music, and as the
best of the 20th century by British MOJO
Magazine. The growing notoriety of Pet
Sounds has spurred the release of several
box sets and studio sessions, as well as a
live tour. Wilson may not have reached
his fans initially, but he has certainly
made them amongst music fans and
musicians today.
 For me, Chicago is music.
Growing up in Milwaukee, I learned
to curse the city’s sports teams and
berate its drivers, but I have to admit
that when it comes to concert choices,
Chicago is far superior. At least once
every summer, when options in my own
city were lacking – which they always were – my
friends and I would pile into our parents’ cars and
make the trek to the Windy City. It was no surprise, then,
that when presented with the choice of taking another sophomore
summer astronomy quiz or taking my friend up on his offer to
do “whatever it fucking took” to get my “lazy ass out of New
Hampshire” and to Chicago’s Grant Park for Lollapalooza, I
opted for the latter. A week later, we set off on the 19-hour drive
from Hanover and began what was to become the best weekend
of my summer.
Created in 1990 by Jane’s Addiction frontman Perry Farrell
as a traveling festival showcasing some of alternative music’s
most groundbreaking acts, Lollapalooza was resurrected in
2005 as a stationary festival taking place over three days in the
heart of Chicago. With 130 performers and eight stages this
year – twice as many as last year – Grant Park was packed with
festival attendants, making it nearly impossible to see everyone
we wanted to see without an airtight plan, and even then the
extensive trek across the park made splitting sets tricky.
My own Lollapalooza experience, not counting the road
trip from Hanover, began Friday morning with several delays
courtesy of the Chicago Transit Authority, causing us to miss all
but the last few harmonies of The M’s, our intended first show.
Having no desire to see anyone in particular for the next few
hours, I aimlessly wandered
the festival grounds hoping to
discover new music. First stop
was Editors, a UK band I was told
I would love if I liked Interpol. I like
Interpol. I do not love Editors. Editors,
in fact, sound a lot like Interpol… only
not as good. I left halfway through their set,
unimpressed.
Two hours in and already losing energy, I was
relieved when British MC Lady Sovereign bounded onstage,
Veuve Clicquot in hand. Lady Sov is a lot like me – a short and
skinny white girl who curses and guzzles alcohol while jumping
around obnoxiously spitting out ridiculous rhymes – but she’s
also got an accent and a side ponytail, not to mention critical
acclaim and a deal with Jay-Z, making her infinitely cooler. Her
erratic stage presence and British snarl, in addition to the man
behind her “playing the canvas”, made the show one of the
weekend’s pleasant surprises.
The performance of the night, however, went to Sleater-Kinney
who, without being overly-indulgent or nostalgic for what was
to be one of their final shows, rocked through one of their most
solid and straightforward sets yet. Relying heavily on material
from 2005’s The Woods but ending with old-school favorite “Turn
It On,” the trio played with the same enthusiasm and energy that
inspired me to pick up a guitar and “rock out”, as the kids say,
at age 14. (Never mind that the guitar was quietly laid to rest in
its case a year later – Sleater-Kinney is still responsible for my
passionate, if short-lived and technically flawed, rock career.)
Saturday began with the sultry sounds of Leslie Feist who,
despite her adorable head-shaking and fist-pumping, managed

to rouse only a portion of her sleepy, sun-
soaked audience. The quiet Canadian’s
vocals were often overpowered by the
bands playing at nearby stages, muffling
her already-subdued songs. After standing
through half a lackluster set by Built to
Spill and a few soulful songs from Lyrics
Born, I crossed Grant Park to where
thousands had already gathered to hear
Gnarls Barkley. The set itself, in spite of a
few unexpected covers and the amusing
coordinated tennis outfits sported by the
band, lacked the enthusiasm I expected,
and as soon as Cee-Lo finished the
last hummed notes of [if-I-hear-it-one-
more-time-this-summer-I’m-going-to-
shoot-someone] “Crazy,” most audience
members had already turned around
to leave. Annoyed, the man behind me
drunkenly screamed for “Transformer”
– one of the best songs on the group’s
debut album – and got what he requested.
However, the depressingly slowed-down
version of the song almost made me wish
for “Crazy” again.
Disappointed, I ran back across the park
just in time to catch Wayne Coyne of the
Flaming Lips, surrounded by Santa Clauses
and aliens, entering a giant inflatable ball
and rolling over a fanatical crowd. The show
continued with Coyne shooting confetti
and balloons into the audience, and though
Pitchfork has called the set a “disaster,”
everyone should see a Flaming Lips show
at least once, for the spectacle if for nothing
else. Next was the New Pornographers
who, despite the absences of both Neko
Case and Dan Bejar, flawlessly played
their catchy pop songs, with AC Newman
cracking jokes about performing between
Common and Kanye (pronounced CAN-
ye). I opted to pass on Can-ye, however, in
favor of international star Manu Chao in
one of his only US appearances. Chao’s live
performance sounded very little like his
Latin and salsa recordings, and his tendency
to extend every song into some sort of punk
jam grew tiresome after the third song, but
no one in the crowd could resist bouncing
and shaking with the band well past the
concert’s scheduled end, making it one of
the sweatiest and most fun experiences of
the weekend.
Sunday proved to be the best day of
the trip, starting with an energetic set
from The Hold Steady. Described by a
friend as a combination of “a TI-86, a
Budweiser, and a Gibson SG,” the band
looks like the tired and slightly overweight
middle-aged men my dad hangs out with
– hardly a recipe for rock success, but
somehow lead singer Craig Finn speak-
singing about Catholic schoolgirls and the
The Flaming Lips frontman Wayne Coyne preparing to roll over the audience.
Upper Midwest on top of generic guitar
riffs works. Halfway through the set Finn
raised his Bud Light to the crowd and
declared it “the most fun [he’d] had before
three in the afternoon.” Not including the
very drunken El ride to Grant Park that
morning, I had to agree with him, and The
Hold Steady officially became my new
favorite band.
The performances by Andrew Bird and
The Shins, despite being other “favorite
bands,” were plagued by sound problems
and imbalances, proving that some acts
(especially Bird and his subtle loop-
stationed melodies) are better heard within
the intimate setting a club or theater offers.
Of Montreal, on the other hand, complete
with witty banter and costume changes, led
the audience into a dancing frenzy, leaving
everyone’s legs as happy as their ears.
As the evening cooled down, Wilco
played to a receptive hometown crowd
and Jeff Tweedy, looking very much like
a leprechaun with his hat, green jacket,
and full beard, admired the audience for
knowing “how to go to a festival.” The set
was perfect, comprised of favorites from
their most recent two albums as well as
several new songs, though I may be biased
– after all, I first stumbled upon Wilco on
Milwaukee’s lakefront years ago and still
maintain that you haven’t really heard
Wilco until you’ve heard “Via Chicago”
stretching across Lake Michigan as the
summer sun sets behind you.
The final show of the evening was
Broken Social Scene, performing (finally!)
with all of its 11+ members. Musically one
of the best shows I’ve ever seen, the only
disappointment was when it ended fifteen
minutes earlier than all of the festival’s
other shows so that the Red Hot Chili
Peppers could take the stage across the
field. Bitter, I skipped the Peppers and
instead hopped in the car again, ready for

For 8 of my classmates and me, the long
journey to tiny Masontown, WV for All
Good Music Festival was hands down
sophomore summer’s greatest adventure
(not to mention the overwhelming
highlight of ’09 Whitney Paterson’s
summer vacation). As we left campus early
in the afternoon on July 14th, I could hardly
believe that we had assembled such a
mighty crew of foolhardy, fun-loving men
and women for such a trek. No expenses
were spared. In our giddiness, we threw
down more cash than any of us could
responsibly justify spending, arriving with
enough beer, BBQ, and absurdly-sized
snacks (shout-out to ’07 Chris Fiore and
his handy ‘inner circle’ BJ’s card) to feed
half of the free-loading drains on society
in attendance. After stopping in Cranbury,
NJ to pick up Whitney, we drove all night,
sharing stories, asinine observations,
uninspired anecdotes, and Gushers
fruit snacks. A few quick stops for meat,
propane, and beer, and we were ready to
enter the gates at sunrise.
Unfortunately, the local volunteers were
not ready to let us enter without paying
the $15/head ‘early arrival fee,’ despite the
sun having already risen on the opening
day of the festival. We refused to pay, of
course, and spent a couple of delightful
hours tailgating with resisting hard-
core wookies who informed us that the
festival was a scam: “It’s only half good,
man.” Our enthusiasm undiminished, we
provided them with a couple Keystones
for a taste of Dartmouth. By the time we
were sufficiently sketched out by our
new friends, we were allowed into the
festival without additional charge. We
were extremely fortunate to quickly find
a flat site and set up camp. After grilling
some delicious burgers and throwing back
a few cold ones, we were ready for a full
weekend of music.
All Good is unique among festivals of
its size (19,000 in attendance) in having
only one main stage area with a sidestage
for short, between-set performances by
smaller acts, which makes it much easier to
navigate the grounds and catch most of the
sets. Before the day started, I confidently
asserted that I would rage harder than
anyone else (musically, that is), but I was
pleasantly surprised that my companions
gave me a serious run for my money.
Bassist Oteil Burbidge (Allman Brothers
Band, Aquarium Rescue Unit) and the
Peacemakers opened the festival with an
enthusiastic set of bouncy, Southern-fried
by Scott Muir
funk despite the blistering heat. After the
set we made the steep hike back to the
campsite to escape the oppressive sun and
to ‘prepare’ and pace ourselves for the
long day ahead.
We returned to the stage for John
Medeski and the Itch’s inaugural
performance. Medeski (Medeski, Martin
and Wood, The Word) enlisted Eric Krasno
of Soulive and Adam Deitch of John
Scofield Band specifically for this festival
set of tight, lick-laden funk that recalled
MMW’s 1996 classic, Shack Man. We were
surprised by the brand-new band’s intense
cohesion and lack of improvisation, but
the music was perfect for working the
sunburned crowd into a groove. After a
thoroughly strange but largely uninspired
set from Les Claypool, Maggie Severns-
O’Neil ‘08 and I were fortunate enough
to discover the festival’s best keep secret,
the unadvertised campground tent
sponsored by Ropedope Records, where
All Good’s funkiest artists let it all hang
out. As the sun mercifully set behind the
ridges, Medeski and the Itch provided
a full hour of pure improvisation, more
than making up for the restraint of their
main stage performance. The three players
communicated effortlessly, churning out

A view of the concert lawn.
grooves that sounded far too sweet to be
spontaneous. The mad scientist seemed to
be completely in his element with his new
band mates as he aggressively attacked
his organs and synthesizers in front of the
small, but intensely enthusiastic crowd. It
was definitely one of the highlights of the
weekend, and I think it’s safe to say we
were getting down.
After retiring back to the campsite for
some rest, dinner, beers and Jagerbombs
(the official drink of the heady music
festival), we made our way back to
the stage for G.R.A.B.’s (Mike Gordon
and Trey Anastasio of Phish with the
Benevento/Russo Duo) primetime
performance. Although the set was much
more energetic and enjoyable than their
rain-soaked Burlington show earlier that
week, it still left much to be desired, as
the band never lived up to its potential. It
just wasn’t the sum of it’s four incredibly
talented parts. Nevertheless, the peaks
were quite high and we all enjoyed
ourselves thoroughly. The majority of our
crew retired before the Disco Biscuits late-
night ‘rave your face off’ set to save our
energy for Saturday’s marathon lineup,
while sleep-deprived Dara rocked all night
with her sketchy Bisco friends. She paid
the price the next day.
Saturday proved to be one of the most
jam-packed (no pun intended) days of
music I have ever experienced. Tea Leaf
Green, San Francisco’s up-and-coming
jam-rock quartet, woke us up with a
roaring early afternoon set. Next, Railroad
Earth, one of the finest Newgrass bands
touring today, picked up a storm, rocking
out surprisingly hard on their acoustic
instruments in the scorching heat. We
retired for a couple hours in the shade
to relax and grill more burgers. On the
way back to the campsite, self-hating
hippie Sara Khan ’08 stopped to shun her
brethren with unwarranted disdain: “Ugh,
they even make soccer gross.” Meanwhile,
Bennet Meyers ’08 was so inspired by
the fanciful festival atmosphere and the
beauty of the West Virginia mountains in
the hot July sun that the physics major
decided to abandon his hard science track
and become a writer. After spending
hours trying to convince us that this
was a momentous and overwhelmingly
positive event in his life, he gave up on
his afternoon-long dream. Note that
despite my repeated insistence that Bennet
contribute to the notebook I brought
specifically for such inspirations, he did
not actually write anything during his
short-lived career.
Late in the afternoon we returned to
watch New Orleans’ Galactic funk it up on
the main stage. Drummer Stanton Moore
led the band through a variety of material
from throughout their long career with his
driving bass drum and tasteful, innovative
licks. Next, Chicago’s Umphrey’s
McGee breezed through a relaxed, but
airtight set of its unique brand of eclectic
improvisational progressive rock. Half
of us wandered from the unfinished set
to catch ‘Stanton Moore and Friends’ on
the tiny Ropeadope stage. The setting
sun painted a magnificent panorama of
oranges, reds, and purples, leading Bennet
to conclude, “I hate beauty.” Meanwhile,
the wildly enthusiastic stage emcee riled
up all the ‘party people,’ repeating the
ingenious mantra, “Go ‘head, it don’t
stop.” Moore’s Galactic bandmates
(minus saxophone/harmonica player
Ben Ellman) filled in for his missing
trio players, keyboardist Robert Walter
(who later appeared with the Greyboy
Allstars) and guitarist Will Bernard (T.J.
Kirk, Midnight Voices), as the quartet ran
through the drummer’s excellent new
material from his then unreleased trio
album, III. The relaxed, spontaneous
atmosphere allowed the players greater
improvisational freedom, but Moore
and his band mates maintained the
album’s tight, funky sound with their
well-developed chemistry and incredible
rhythmic command.
After returning to the campsite to throw
back a few more beers and ‘bombs, we
made our way back to the main stage
to catch the Black Crowes. The Atlanta-
based rock band wasted little time,
ripping through anthems ‘Halfway to
Everywhere’ and ‘Sting Me’ to open their
primetime set. From there, the Crowes
took a decided turn from the expected list
of crowd-pleasing renditions of hits and
rockers, electing to play a delightful mix
of underplayed tunes (‘Cosmic Friend’
and ‘Young Man, Old Man’), soulful
ballads (‘Bad Luck Blue Eyes Goodbye’
and ‘Thorn in My Pride’) and choice
covers (‘You’ve Got to Hide Your Love
Away’). The band continued to build
up momentum, energizing the crowd
with a scorching version of Neil Young’s
‘Alabama.’ It seemed the set was coming
to a close as they launched into their old
hit ‘Remedy,’ but Jimmy Herring (The
Dead, Aquarium Rescue Unit) appeared
for an extensive take on the introspective
Allman Brothers Band classic, ‘Dreams.’
The Crowes soared to new heights as
Herring traded fiery, blues-inflected
solos with guitarists Marc Ford and Rich
Robinson, while Chris Robinson delivered
a heart-wrenching vocal performance that
nearly rivaled the legendary Greg Allman
himself. It was the definitive peak of an
incredible weekend of music, drawing a
raucous ovation from the largest crowd
of the festival. The Crowes responded
in kind, returning for an encore of Joe
Cocker’s ‘Space Captain.’ After the dust
settled, the Greyboy Allstars closed
out Saturday night with an impressive
demonstration of their trademark
west-coast funk. The Allstars are back
and at the top of their game, having
reconstructed their sound throughout
their lengthy reunion tour after a six-year
absence. Melodic masters Robert Walter
(keys), Karl Denson (sax) and Elgin Park
(guitar) traded virtuosic lines and funky
riffs as they collectively led the band
through the long set, alternating their old,
up tempo jazz compositions with new
harder-hitting funk.
Unfortunately, our academic
obligations forced us to leave early
Sunday morning and miss performances
by the Aquarium Rescue Unit, the
Wailers, Mofro and others, but I think
we had all just about had our fill. After
surrendering 85 hours (nearly 30 spent
on the road), hundreds of dollars, and
millions of brain cells, we returned
exhausted, sunburned, and utterly
satisfied. The sacrifices made were
inconsequential in light of the incredible
times we shared and our pride in
knowing that we pulled off the perfect
heady festival experience. The wookies
were wrong. It was definitely all good.

DAY FOUR—Sunday, June 18th
“BONNAROOOOO!” a figure clad in
home-made, orange plastic overalls yells,
while running through the crowd that
waits before the What Stage. He darts in
front of me and my friends who are sitting
close to the stage in high anticipation of
Phil Lesh and Friends, who are preparing
to perform the last show of the 2006
Bonnaroo Music and Arts Festival.
“Oh wow!” one of my friends comments.
It turns out the orange overalls have been
cut out in the back and a bare bottom is
weaving its way through the crowd at eye-
level for those of us fortunate enough to be
sitting on the ground.
I ask, quite legitimately, “Was that a man
or a woman?”
“A man,” my friend Udit replies
immediately. “That was one hairy ass.”
Hairy Ass Man isn’t the only character in
the audience. Beside me, a boy about my
age lies flat on his back staring straight up
into the clouds above. Every so often he
giggles.
I lean over to the kid and whisper, “I
want in on the joke. I can never get the
clouds to talk to me.”
He ignores me but I don’t feel too
insulted. Periodically, people squeezing
their way closer to the stage will get a look
at this guy and stop with huge grins on
their faces.
“Having fun, man?” they’ll ask.
Giggle.
Ahead of us, a girl wearing wings is
sprinkling everyone who passes with goo
from a broken glow stick. “I’m a fairy,” she
sings out. The mushroom fairy, I guess.
The last day of the festival has been
highly satisfying, with concerts by Soulive,
moe., Bonnie Raitt (making several anti-
Bush comments), Sonic Youth, Steve Earle,
and Béla Fleck and the Flecktones. The last
is my favorite, being comprised of some
of the best musicians in the world. Lead
by Béla Fleck on the banjo, the Flecktones
are made up of bassist Victor Wooten, Jeff
Coffin, who plays two saxophones at once,
and Future Man, inventor of the Drumitar,
an extraterrestrial-looking instrument
that possesses all of the powers of a full
professional drum kit.
A roar comes from the audience and
we’re all on our feet as Phil Lesh and
Friends take the stage. Lesh is joined by
singer Joan Osborne from the Grateful
Dead days, guitarists Larry Campbell and
John Scofield, plus the usual members
John Molo on drums and Rob Baracco
on keyboard. They kick off the show
with “Uncle John’s Band,” which sends
the crowd into motion, bouncing up and
selling cool beverages in the ever classic
Bonnaroozies, the Bonnaroo adaptation of
the coozie. A man offers me a pamphlet,
which I accept unthinkingly. It starts
off promisingly enough, “You are going
to engage in lots of crazy activities this
weekend, many of them illegal.” Great, I
think. “BUT what happens when the fun
ends? God is watching you!”
by Molly Caldwell “Oh man!” I say dropping it. My
Dartmouth friends in the back grab it and
down, throwing glow sticks, knocking start cackling. “The South!” they exclaim.
beach balls into the air, and dancing the Our camp site is named Camp Luke
hippie dance. Behind me, three Dartmouth Skywalker in the Star Wars section.
kids attempt their own rendition of the There are Port-a-potties and trailers full
hippie dance, but it looks more like of sinks placed randomly around the
the Drunken Bar Crawl. It’s certainly camp grounds for the 80,000 people in
nothing compared to Joan Osborne’s stage attendance. VIP ticket-holders get showers,
presence. She has positioned every flowy- but they also have to shell out 300 more
dress inch of herself in front of Phil Lesh dollars a ticket for these showers. Any true
and is twirling her heart out. hippie would scorn such luxury.
At first, I’m a little annoyed, as her only At seven o’clock the music starts.
contribution seems to be a little backup The main path leading to the entrance
on the choruses and she is obstructing of Centeroo, where the ten stages are
my view of Phil Lesh. “Who is this chick located, is called Shakedown Street and
anyway?” I think to myself. However, is full of vendors selling everything from
that question is answered about half-way hammocks to five hundred dollar blown-
through the first set as Lesh and Friends glass bongs. A girl ahead of me stumbles
transfer from “Scarlet Begonias” into “Fire through the crowd waving a handle of
on the Mountain” with Osborne belting Jack Daniels above her head. I watch as a
out the vocals. She’s equally strong on the mounted police officer rides by and scoops
cover of “All Along the Watchtower” that the bottle out of her hand. No glass bottles
immediately follows. Lesh and Friends hit allowed at Bonnaroo by ruling of the Clean
a large number of Grateful Dead songs, Vibes Clean-up Crew.
ranging from the country funk of “Big After my friends and I enter Centeroo,
River” to the bluesy “New
Speedway Boogie,” on
which Osborne’s vocals
have an almost Billie
Holliday sultriness. Near
the end of the set, Lesh
and Friends do a number
of squealing guitar jams
with a psychedelic touch.
“Box of Rain” is their
single encore as the sky
pours down on the ecstatic
crowd.
DAY ONE—Thursday,
June 15th
My friends and I arrive
in a caravan of cars on
Thursday morning. We
wait about two hours
on the highway, which
is nothing compared to
the thirty hour interstate
backup of Bonnaroo
2002. In all directions,
people sit on the top of
their cars smoking bowls,
or run along the side
of the interstate tossing
Frisbees. As we turn off
the highway onto Bushy
Branch Road, the two mile
long dirt road that leads
to the Festival site, a 700-
acre farm in Manchester,
TN, our car is accosted
by all sorts of people
handing out free stuff and Radiohead frontman Thom Yorke getting emotional.
we approach That Tent where a band
I’ve never heard of before, The Motet, is
playing. They are amazing! Created and
led by drummer Dave Watts, the Motet
plays their music with a focus on the
percussion. The result is a dance-jam that
includes funk, African, reggae, salsa, and
jazz beats.

DAY TWO—Friday, June 16th
Three major events mark Friday.
Tragically, a twenty-one year old concert-
goer is killed when he bolts onto the
interstate in front of Ricky Skaggs’s tour
bus. Throughout the day, the shortage
of weed (despite the large amount of
back-packed drug dealers who roam
around calling out their wares) is noted
by festival attendees everywhere. It is
not until I return home that I learn the
cause. On Sunday, a U-haul headed down
to Bonnaroo was stopped carrying two
thousand pounds of weed (one million
dollars worth.) Thankfully, the music
doesn’t stop.
Ben Folds is the first big performer,
playing on Which Stage. Despite the
sweltering heat, Ben Folds is filled with
energy as he bangs away on the piano,
at one point attacking it with the stool
he’s sitting on. This antic is not the only
way Folds engages his audience. For one
song, he leads the crowd in a three-part
harmony. Later, his sweet and sorrowful
voice fills the air on a heartfelt tearjerker, a
cover of Dr. Dre’s “Bitches Ain’t Shit.”
Later, while Death Cab for Cutie, Ricky
Skaggs, and Robert Randolph and the
Family Band all perform on various
stages, I remain stationed at the main
stage watching Oysterhead, arguably one
of the best shows all weekend. Despite Just your typical mushroom fountain. Notice the lack of hippie bathing.
having not played together since 2001,
Police’s drummer Stewart Copeland, Copeland provides a steady background wearing an Elvis Mask.
Phish’s Trey Anastasio, and bassist Les to Anastasio’s laid-back jam, as they Oysterhead is followed by headliner
Claypool (from numerous bands including mesh perfectly with the funky, demonic Tom Petty, who performs his Greatest Hits
Primus, Flying Frog Brigade, and Bernie’s Claypool, who during a creepy, jailbait album followed by a slightly excessive
Bucket of Brains) reconnect instantly. cover of “Jailhouse Rock,” comes out run four encores. In a festival where
tremendous improvisation is taking place
on every stage, I find him somewhat
disappointing. However, he does create a
stir when he brings out Stevie Nicks for a
duet of “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around.”
The late night shows compensate for the
lull created by Petty’s performance. The
collaboration between Umphrey’s McGee
and the Disco Biscuits is absolutely off the
hook, and performances by My Morning
Jacket and hip-hop artists Common, Lyrics
Born, and Blackalicious complement it
very well.

DAY THREE—Saturday, June 17th

I don’t know whether I lose my way
due to the confusion of haze and dust or
because everything in Bonnaroo moves
around in an Alice in Wonderland-esque
fashion, but upon entering Centeroo I
find myself in the middle of the 1,000
square foot Sonic Forest. The Forest is

Béla Fleck and the Flecktones are among the most talented live acts around.
 Among the Heathens
Ryan Chesley
Special Contributor
I
awoke on the morning of the fourth
of August, 2006, so hungover I
could barely move, stiff-jointed
and reeking of whiskey. This in itself
was not unusual, but on this particular
morning, for some reason I could only
dimly recall, I was curled up not in my
bed, on a couch, or even a floor, but in
the driver’s seat of a rented Volkswagen.
As I struggled mightily to sit up, I heard
Manowar echoing over the fields from a
cranked-up car stereo: “The gods made
heavy metal / And they saw that it
was good / They said to play it louder
than hell / And we promised that we
would!” I suddenly awoke, revitalized
by the absurdity of the rousing chorus.
Was it being played ironically? Who
knew? Who cared? At that moment
all that mattered was that I was at the
Wacken Open Air Festival, the largest
gathering of metalheads in the world.
It takes place every year in northern
Germany: for three days, dozens of bands
and 62,000 madmen (and a surprising
number of women) descend on this tiny
farming village and completely take it
over, rampaging through the streets like
a horde of black-clad Huns. This year, I
was one of them, along with my fellow
pilgrim Andrew. What better way to
kick off our month-long tour of northern
Europe? I grinned. And then my head
started hurting again.
As I stumbled around to the back of the
car, I was offered a can of Polish beer by
Lukas, a burly philosophy student from
Gdansk whose camp was next to our
own. Nearby were colonies of Germans,
Italians, Canadians, Iranians – any
nationality you could name, gathered
in tents and cars that sprawled from
horizon to horizon. We had befriended
Lukas and his fellow Poles the day before
by offering them some of our whiskey;
they had reciprocated with something
called “spiritus” mixed with cola, which
tasted like nothing at all but turned out
to be some kind of high-octane Polish
moonshine. Prompted by the non-verbal
code of the metalhead’s wardrobe, Lukas
showed that he approved of my Venom
shirt by calling out song titles, and so
we began screaming lyrics at each other
(AHH… AUGGH… AAAAUUUGH!
BLACK METAL!). Fighting through
language barriers and the encroaching
effect of the spiritus, we discussed the
relative merits of Polish versus American
metal; he played us some of a band
called Witchmaster, we played him our
band’s demo. We met some Germans
and Canadian backpackers, and plied
them for information regarding their
Eastern European adventures over beer
bartered for some more of our whiskey.
One of my last coherent memories is of
Lukas inviting Andy and myself to come
back to Gdansk and live with him (“My
Grandfather, he died… he left me a house
with five rooms… I will give you two”);
as near as I know the offer still stands. I
have hazy recollections of Andy dragging
me out of the car, where I was locked in
a life-or-death battle with the spiritus, to
go see the Scorpions (of “Rock you Like
a Hurricane” fame), and of leaving them
in disgust because they were so bad that
no amount of alcohol could possibly
make them enjoyable. Andy, who has the
misfortune of remembering the whole
thing, relates that “the guitarist was
jumping around like a damned idiot for
two hours,” which I suppose is as much
of a review as you need. According to
the official program, the theme of the
evening was “A Night to Remember….”
So much, as they say, for that.
Which brings us back to the morning
of the first full day. Lukas and I, now
joined by Andy (who appeared to
be in far better shape than me, the
swine) compared notes concerning the
weekend’s festivities, which promised
to be every bit as hyperbolic as the day
before. A mind-boggling array of bands
awaited, performing back to back on
the festival’s two main stages: the “True
Metal Stage” for
more traditional acts, and the “Black
Stage” for the genre’s darker and more
extreme offshoots. Together with the
small, peripheral “Party Stage” and
tent-enclosed “Wet Stage,” the complete
line-up encompassed all of metal’s
distinct sub-genres, indistinguishable to
outsiders, but as different as night and,
well, even blacker night to those who
have mastered the lexicon: Black Metal,
Death Metal, Speed Metal, Power Metal,
Thrash, Grindcore, and every conceivable
blending thereof.
It is telling, however, that the most
universally anticipated acts were either
reunions of long-defunct bands or still-
active holdovers from metal’s formative
years, well beyond their creative prime:
Celtic Frost, Emperor, and Atheist in the
first case, Motörhead and Morbid Angel
in the second. Fans often reverentially
describe these undisputed innovators
and their peers as metal’s “old gods,”
undisputed innovators of almost
superhuman stature whose early works
are still venerated to this day.
A cynic (such as myself) could dismiss
the other headliners as superficially
pleasing novelty bands: Children of
Bodom, a Finnish quintet who have
risen to popularity over the last five
years on the strength of their catchy,
high-speed power metal; Finntroll,
whose delightful blending of Black
Metal and Finnish “Humppa” music
was always a kind of self-parody but
became positively intolerable after their
guitarist/songwriter got drunk and fell
off a bridge several years ago; and In
Celtic Frost
Monotheist
Release Date: May 30, 2006
EMI
With their groundbreaking
1980s albums, Celtic Frost greatly
influenced both modern metal and
more mainstream bands such as
Nirvana. Monotheist proves to be an
excellent comeback record, featuring
lush doom-filled sound-scapes full of
weighty guitars slurring out rhythms
and minimalist dark melodies, whilst
Tom Warrior delivers surly, weathered
vocals.
Key Tracks: Ain Elohim, Obscured,
Synagoga Satanae
Andrew Bailey
The resurrected Celtic Frost hold the crowd in thrall as they intone their morbid tale
Extremo, a German ensemble which re-
interprets medieval minstrel tunes by
incorporating electric guitars alongside
bagpipes, tympanis, and fire-breathing.
While all enjoyable in their own ways,
their strengths seem more like gimmicks
when placed next to the achievements of
their musical ancestors.
These sobering ruminations were far
from my mind on that morning, however:
old gods, new gods, no matter: all
judgment and criticism were suspended
in anticipation of the upcoming high-
decibel bacchanal. The first stop was the
Metal Market: stepping over the prostrate
bodies of overly indulgent revelers, we
threaded our way through the copious
booths hawking bootleg shirts, rare LPs,
drinking horns and hand-made gauntlets.
Equipped for the struggle ahead with
some lethal-looking spikes, we returned
to the car for some sausage and beer
while we awaited the day’s worthy
bands. In the meantime, we could hear
the afternoon’s opening act, Canadian
“satanic fuckin’ rock-n-roller” Danko
Jones, tell the crowd that not only was he
“the fuckin’ greatest,” he got “this fuckin’
eye-patch” while “fuckin’ jerkin’ off.” I’d
never heard of Danko before, but after
hearing his set from afar I can confidently
say that he is one of the worst people in
the world.
My mood improved as the day wore
on. I left Andrew behind, as he had
heroically decided to pass out spread-
eagle on the hood of our car (ha ha,
fucker, now it’s your turn), and made
my way to witness the return of Atheist,
whose improbable mixture of technical
death metal and free jazz more than lived
up to their formidable reputation. We
spent the next several hours alternately
breaking in our new drinking horns at
the campsite and enduring competent
but ultimately mediocre sets from Opeth,
Six Feet Under, Carnivore, and others. In
Extremo’s aforementioned pyrotechnic
circus of creative anachronism offered an
entertaining spectacle, particularly when
several thousand closely-packed fans fell
down simultaneously in the middle of
their set.
As the sun went down, the crowd in
front of the two main stages swelled and
the festival’s iconic 20-foot cow skull was
set ablaze with torches. Finally, the first
night’s headliners took the stage: First
came Children of Bodom, who despite or
perhaps even because of their inescapable
cheesiness won over the thousands
of assembled spectators with nonstop
guitar- and keyboard-based frivolity.
Celtic Frost, however, blew nearly
everyone away: a cult pioneer of extreme
metal in the mid-80s, they more than
proved their contemporary relevance
by not only nailing 20-year-old classics
such as “Into the Crypt of Rays” and
“Circle of the Tyrants” but also delivering
enthrallingly doom-laden performances
of material from their 2006 comeback
album Monotheist (see sidebar for Andy’s
review). Exhausted, we returned to our
campsite to rest before the final day.
Saturday’s afternoon performances
were disappointing: Aborted, like many
American bands, showcased impressive
speed and brutality but derivative
songwriting; Arch Enemy’s Swedish-style
death metal floundered despite their
charismatic and talented frontwoman/
growler Angela Gassow; and Soilwork’s
Swedish-style death metal floundered
because, well, they’re a mediocre band.
Morbid Angel, in my opinion the world’s
greatest death metal band, proved an
outstanding exception: the return of
original Dave Vincent and the paradigm-
shredding guitar work of Trey Azagthoth
even managed to incite the otherwise
complacent European crowd to sporadic
frenzies of American-style pit violence,
raising our collective adrenaline level
considerably.
Anticipation ran high as the evening
approached. I took advantage of
Whitesnake’s set to position myself front
and center for Emperor, unquestionably
“
the most avant-garde and musically
literate Black Metal group to emerge
from Norway
in the early
90s. They were
returning to the ... it felt as though they
stage for the
had single-handedly
first time since
hanging up their
gauntlets in 2001 driven the sun below
after releasing a
pair of lackluster the horizon.
albums that
forsook the
rich, majestic
atmosphere of their classic works for
soulless prog-metal wankery. I steeled
myself for bitter disappointment,
but they delivered a genuinely
transcendental performance: an
opening medley drawn from their 1993
masterpiece In the Nightside Eclipse
laid the foundations perfectly for more
complex works from 1995’s Anthems to
the Welkin at Dusk, and even the baroque
neo-classicism of their later albums
sounded monumental in a live context.
Darkness Descends: The metal hordes gather beneath lengthening shadows as the second evening ramps up.
By the time they closed with “I am the
Black Wizards” and “Inno a Satana,” it
felt as though they had single-handedly
driven the sun below the horizon.
As Emperor retired to the lengthening
shadows, it fell to one final act to deliver
the weekend’s killing blow: Motörhead,
a name which should be familiar to
even the metallically-illiterate. Their
hard-charging, dirty rock-and-roll was
a foundational influence on modern
metal, and though
they’ve evolved
little in the last
thirty years, they
have remained
”
primitive and
uncompromising.
They are heavy
music’s great
white shark, a
barbaric force
of nature. At
one point, as the
crowd of 60,000 headbangers roared for
the obligatory “Ace of Spades,” 61-year
old-front-man Lemmy Kilmister (who
looks not a day over 100), grumbled,
almost self-deprecatingly, “until I
fuckin’ die, right?” before launching,
appropriately, into “Killed by Death.”
Ace of Spades came last, of course, in all
its anthemic glory, providing the perfect
parting shot for the festival before we
staggered back to the car to say goodbye
to the Poles and try to get a few hours
of sleep in before we left at dawn for
Hamburg and the rest of our European
journey.
In strictly musical terms, Wacken
offered a handful of truly world-class
performances and several fun spectacles
amidst a sea of mostly forgettable
mediocrity (and utter crap; fuck you,
Danko Jones). What made the weekend
truly memorable, however, was not the
music per se: the total experience of
Wacken amounts to far, far more than
just a parade of bands. The artists on
stage merely provide a focal point for
the celebration of a thriving subculture
shared by countless fans around
the world, living 362 days a year in
permanent diaspora amongst menial
jobs, oppressive governments, prolonged
war and collar-popping SAEs. It may be
that only the “old gods” were truly able
to live up to the expectations set by the
scope of the event, but this is no reason
to declare metal dead or even dying, as
its detractors and even its fans are often
quick to do. The true spirit of metal at
Wacken springs from the cameraderie of
the sprawling tent cities, the booths and
byways of the metal market, and from the
bottom of so many beer bottles, opened
by strangers but finished by friends. The
old gods still reign here, but for now,
their immortality seems assured. Until
you fuckin’ die, Lemmy – until we all
fuckin’ die.
THIS PAGE IS NOT HERE

Never before was there a more perfect
combination than We Are Scientists and
Berlin, Germany. It was fated that this
pairing would produce epic results, and
thankfully, we were there to witness
something I can only describe as magical.
Although any respectable scenester
would never show up on time, Andrew
Flynn ’07, Marianne Epstein ’08, my
German host sister Eva, and I rolled into
Bastard Klub, deep in the bowels of East
Berlin, fifteen minutes before the show
was scheduled to start. Though we had
to wait an hour and half before the band
actually started to play, it did allow us
ample drinking time and an opportu-
nity to grab a place tantalizingly close to
W.A.S. in the intimate venue.
When I think about the self described
“most handsome bachelors in New
York,” which I do often and intensely,
a few words come to mind: spectacles,
flamboyant bass lines, and perhaps most
importantly, cats, which can be found on
their album cover, band tees, and photos
posted on their website. Their show lived
up to all of my wildest fantasies with one
major exception – there were no cats. This
was a huge blow to all of us. Cats aside,
although the sound quality left a little to
be desired, the set was fabulous. But not
even sketchy sound could bring down the
crowd’s enthusiasm for the group’s two
hits, “Great Escape” and “Nobody Move
Nobody Get Hurt,” which roused even
the most cross-armed, head nodding,
tight-panted, German hipsters to dance.
However, the witty scientists, famous for
their on-stage banter, were less than talk-
ative during their set, which was probably
“
By Maryanna Brown
After a group huddle, which in hindsight
must have seemed incredibly suspicious,
...we slipped behind we slipped behind the curtain and into
the curtain and into another world, a world of beer without
cost. I was convinced it was heaven, but
another world, a world maybe that was just because I looked
”
directly at Keith Murray, finalist for PETA’s
of beer without cost. I sexiest vegetarian, without taking proper
precautions. I was blind, blind with love
was convinced it was for W.A.S.
heaven... For heaven, it was a little small and
dingy. This East Berlin club was not a
classy establishment and neither was its
due to the fact that everyone in the crowd
spoke exclusively German. coatroom, which apparently doubled as
“backstage.” Admittedly, upon arrival we
Having exhausted their 13 track album
just stood there awkwardly, mainly be-
With Love and Squalor, the band left the
cause there were only about twelve people
stage without even attempting an encore.
in this little gathering including the band.
Although the absence of an encore was
Almost immediately their manager came
a bit disappointing, we can’t complain,
over, “Are you guys supposed to be back
because that’s when the magic happened.
here?” clearly sensing we were randos.
When the three lusciously diminutive
“Oh totally...”
musicians left the stage, we saw our
“You need to leave.”
dreams of meeting the band, a hope we
“But but but...” I stammered, watching
had cherished at least thrice daily for the
everything slipping away, “I came all the
previous two weeks, crumbling around
way from Alaska to see this show.”
us. After we milled around the venue for
“We both know that isn’t true,” he
a bit, we stumbled upon a roped off cor-
replied.
ridor. We surreptitiously slipped behind
“That maybe so, but I am from Alaska,” I
the ropes, took off down the hallway, and
said with a shrug, expecting to get booted
made our way up a couple flights of stairs.
out by security within in the next thirty
When the fruits of our journey rewarded
seconds. It’s widely believed that Alaskans
us with a coat check-in, we turned to leave.
are the most attractive and charming of
However, before we left, Eva peeked
the nation, and my ensuing experience
behind the velvet curtain adjacent to the
only proves that theory. We were not only
check-in and revealed Chris Cain, Keith
allowed to stay, but were given the first of
Murray, and Michael Trapper with their
many free rounds of beer that we would
small entourage. It was fate. Destiny had
receive during the course of the night.
brought me to Berlin, not to learn German,
And while we may have been uncomfort-
but to meet We Are Scientists, which was
ably awkward, we were enjoying free
a relief because I hadn’t learned German.

The Crystal Method
Live @ Crobar, NYC 7/21/06
hen I arrived at the Crobar it
was already late into the night,
and I unfortunately missed
the opening DJ and the first
few minutes of The Crystal Method’s
set. The main dance floor was packed
wall to wall, as one would expect from
Manhattan’s largest capacity nightclub
(3,000 people) at 2 AM. After about a ten
minute effort to navigate through the
mass of dancing bodies, I finally made
my way to the stage. This summer I
interned at a management and booking
agency for DJs called The Collective
Agency, and The Crystal Method is one of
their clients. Although I worked full time
for no pay, I was reimbursed through free
entry and stage/VIP access whenever our
clients were playing.
Once on stage, I found a convenient
spot just to the side of the DJ booth
from which to watch without getting in
the way. The Crystal Method, which is
composed of two guys from Los Angeles
named Ken Jordan and Scott Kirkland,
garnered some commercial success a few
years back with a number of hit albums,
namely Vegas, Tweekend, and Legion of
Boom. Their success came as producers,
not as DJs. Tonight, however, they were
DJing rather than playing their own hits
live. I wasn’t sure what to expect going
into it, but the duo played a solid two
hours of high-energy breaks, with the
occasional tech house or electro house
track thrown in the mix.
Their performance was top notch.
Although they weren’t experimenting
with new sounds or wowing the crowd
with any particularly impressive tricks
By Mike Selvin
or techniques, did give the people what
they wanted to hear without resorting
to their own commercial hits. In fact,
the only instantly recognizable tune
aside from the closer was Souwax’s
“NY Excuse”. The pair truly played as
a team, one of them setting up a record
and mixing, as the other looked for the
next track to throw on. They switched
the actual mixing duties five or six times
over the course of two hours, and were
clearly as excited about the performance
as the crowd was. At one point, Scott was
standing in front of the decks as Ken was
playing, jumping around and throwing
free bottles of water and cans of Red Bull
to people in the crowd. While those of us
in the booth were worried he was going
to fall off, it never seemed to cross his
mind.
As 4 A.M. rolled around, Scott and
Ken threw on their last track, a dubby
house edit of Blur’s “Song 2”. The crowd
hadn’t diminished in the least, and “Song
2” made for an epic ending to a great
performance. The track also set the tone
perfectly for the closing DJ, Brooklyn
native Tommie Sunshine. Tommie mixed
from Blur straight into his own special
blend of rock & roll infused electro
house. While still an up-and-comer,
Tommie Sunshine has been attracting
international attention of late, and that
night he proved why. While I couldn’t
stay longer than about 45 minutes into
his set, it was smooth, powerful, and very
original. Dropping tracks like his own
electro remix of Fall Out Boy’s “Dance
Dance,” Tommie finished off an excellent
night in perfect fashion.
endangered animal species crackers,
which were both delicious and rare.
When a heavily-mustached Chris Cain
strolled over and introduced himself,
I peed a little in my pants. After we
told him we went to Dartmouth, the
same school as his former girlfriend,
Emily Cross ’08 Grad Student, we had
our in. Plus, it turned out that she was
a climbing friend of Flynn’s. So after
Flynn scored us the in with Cain, we
all made our way over to some ridicu-
lously comfortable couches and chatted
about increasingly random subjects for
the next hour or so. Admittedly, I spent
a good part of that time not-so-suavely
gaping at Keith, who was sprawled on
a nearby couch eating take-out Thai—
much to my dismay he was not a talker.
Could this be because I spent most of
the concert repeatedly screaming, “I
love you Keith”? Perhaps.
As I sat there with Marianne, inhaling
cheesy dolphins and blue whales, while
Chris showed off his new calculator
watch and described his penchant for
racing random strangers with math-
ematical calculations, I knew this was
indeed the highlight of my young
life. Eva had yet to hone her English
seduction skills—she was trying to
win over their manager using such
lines as, “How much money do you
make?” Oddly enough, that line usually
works for her. Damn those hot German
women, they’re irresistible. We sensed
that Cain was one of us and Andrew
invited him to join our gallon challenge
we had scheduled for the next day. We
must have impressed him with our
good looks and winning personalities
because he accepted the challenge in
his characteristically goofy manner, and
we exchanged numbers. For the record,
we are still in possession of said digits.
They are my most prized possession.
He suggested that we show him around
Berlin after we got out of class the next
day, a prospect which would have vali-
dated my existence.
Maybe he never called...but he could
have. I’d like to think he just got a little
busy...the upkeep of his mustache alone
must take hours, not to mention review-
ing random localities and objects, such
as Gatorland and the sink basin in the
public toilet at Ekko, on the band web-
site. Not to be discouraged, we called
him—he never picked up. Honestly, I
felt like a scorned lover, and I suspect
Flynn did as well. Were we not good
enough to warrant a second hang-out?
I didn’t sleep for weeks. Rather than
counting sheep to lull me to sleep, I
instead counted the reasons Chris Cain
was too cool for us. Reason #23- His
friends are people like the Arctic Mon-
keys. I’m not even British. We’ve all
gotten over the scorn, but this relation-
ship is far from over. W.A.S. has a show
in Montreal on the 26th of October and
we are so there.
 The Penultimate Page
(LOLLAPALOOZA from page 24)
the end of the weekend and the sleepy ride
home, via Chicago.
Lollapalooza has been criticized for
many things – lack of audience diversity,
heavy reliance on corporate sponsorship,
and a recent “bigger is better” mentality
– and though many of these criticisms
are valid, I still managed to have a pretty
amazing weekend. Lollapalooza, like any
large outdoor festival, has its limitations.
It isn’t as “alternative” as it once was, and
I didn’t get to see everyone I planned on
seeing (the weekend’s casualties included
Be Your Own Pet, Cold War Kids, The
Go! Team, Sonic Youth, and the Violent
Femmes) but the fact remains that it still
offers an incredible line-up. Ignoring all
the bullshit, it’s the music that draws
people to Lollapalooza, and it’s the music
that makes it worth the 19-hour drive.
(BONNAROO from page 28)
made up of sixteen eight-foot high metal
poles that play an ever-changing series of
lights and melodies as they sense a person
nearby. They are designed, like everything
else at Bonnaroo—the Silent Disco, the
playground, the small city of hemp art—
for people on drugs.
However, for everyone, drugs or no
drugs, there is Radiohead. At 8:30 it
appears as though all 80,000 concert-
goers are waiting in front of What Stage.
Moments later, a wave of sound and light
engulfs the audience as Radiohead appears
and breaks into “There, There” from Hail
to the Thief. The screens on either side of
the stage don’t work and I can hardly see
a thing, but it really doesn’t matter. Their
music is so full that I feel as though I’m
listening to it in a flawless, acoustically-
engineered concert hall. Through twenty-
eight songs, two encores, “Idioteque,”
and “Karma Police,” Radiohead is able to
surpass the momentous expectations of the
crowd (many came to Bonnaroo solely to
see Radiohead) and hold the audience in
ecstasy to the very end.
As we all file out after the show, towards
This Tent where Dr. John will shortly
be performing in full Indian headdress,
I look up at one of the fifteen-foot high
plastic men that grin over the crowd. This
particular man has a large, hairy, beer
belly and a pair of old-school aviators. I
follow his gaze to the giant mushroom
fountain. During the day it’s filled with
people cooling off and bathing, many at
least topless, but now it’s deserted except
for animated bubbles which float up the
the mushroom toward the golden glow of
water spouting from the top. I can’t help
but think to myself what a long, strange
trip it’s been.
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 Digitally signed by Tim Bakke
DN: cn=Tim Bakke, c=US,
Tim Bakke o=Squeezebox Magazine,
email=tim.bakke@dartmouth.edu
Date: 2007.03.12 09:35:56 -04'00'