Melancholy Music is Beautiful and Dangerous

Music gives me chills. I love music. It is one of my biggest sadnesses that I am tone deaf and have a horrible singing voice and no other musical talent to speak of. Luckily, I can still listen and appreciate and savor.

Loud and fast and catchy punk is usually my first choice. It energizes me, it makes me happy, it restores my faith in humanity. Trust me, I can wax poetic about the virtues of good, anarchistic, pop punk for days on end. And no, anarchistic and pop punk can indeed go together. The Queers, anyone?

However, every once in awhile I get sucked into a cycle of listening to slower, sadder, beautiful music. I am extremely picky about the slow music I listen to - it has to be a combination of factors mixed just right. I don't even understand all the components of what I like, I just know when I like it. Oddly, some element of folk music is usually in there somewhere. Maybe that part reminds me of people I've been told over and over again were more idealistic and committed to change than kids today.

For instance, the Mamas and the Papas really do it for me. As one of my first-ever CDs I listened to this one over and over again. I'm not really sure why my mom thought I would like it, but I'm glad she did. This is still one of my favorite songs ever. I still have no idea what it's about, but it gives me a sweet and sad feeling that is so amazing. The feeling when you hear something beautiful that you know you could never reproduce but you want to experience again and again.

I think that feeling really epitomizes melancholy for me. It's a feeling that there is beauty but only because there is sadness and we all have to return to that sadness. You can see why I end up in a sad contemplative cycle when I get on one of these music kicks. It is usually provoked by gorgeous retro-sounding music, like my recent discoveries of Coconut Records, and She & Him. Yes, both celebrity fronted, and both highly resisted by me at first, especially the hipster-tastic She & Him. It was just too much to resist, though. I dare you to try.

Newstead Tower Public House Reviewed

I have lapsed, I know. But for a good reason - I got a job! In October! So now I can pay my student loans! Hoorah!

However, while money is nice, the job is not super fulfilling, so I return to the world of writing my own insipid opinions and hoping that someone, somewhere will read them. Today I bring you an actual review of a St. Louis institution: The Newstead Tower Public House (hereon referred to as TNTPH).

I went for dinner last night with the boyfriend and another friend. Now, all of us are recently graduated and pretty young. We're not used to fancy things or really even going out to bars and such that much. Well, I'm not anyway. I'd heard good things about TNTPH from people at my own work and was curious to try it out. The menu online looked pretty tasty and any place with organic beer piques my interest. Everyone was game and we'd all been cooped up inside with this crazy cold weather so we wanted to go out.

I suppose I'll start with the bad things. First - the name. I get that it's kind of fun and catchy, and they have a fun logo/crest to go with it (very hipster - fleur de lis, star, rooster, trees), but I could not get it straight for the life of me. I kept calling it the Newstead Tower Grove Public House or the Tower Newstead House. Hopefully that will get better over time, but I couldn't tell our friend where exactly we were going.

The atmosphere seemed off to me. Granted, this could have been because it was balls-ass cold and no one besides us was even there when we walked in and for a good 20 minutes afterwards. Everything seemed very fancy and nice - I was afraid I was going to break something. I'm not exactly sure who TNTPH's target audience is. It wasn't me, I'm sure. Too fancy, and slightly too expensive. It wasn't exactly family-friendly, either, with it's imposing dark walls and tables. I would go again, but I would probably dress up a little more and save it for a special occasion. I certainly couldn't afford it on a regular basis.

Now for the good things, though - the food! Everything I ordered (Beer Battered Seasonal Vegetables & Housemade Curry Mayonaisse and the Crostini) was absolutely delicious. I had to stop myself from consuming it all so that I wouldn't be sick. The vegetables were fantastic - cooked just the right amount with delicious breading. I wish there had been a little more variety - all I had were eggplant and onion. Granted, it's what's in season, but some sweet potato or squash would have been nice as well. The crostini was likewise delicious. My companions weren't as impressed by their food, but what I tried was great - some of the Cream of Potato soup, as well as the chips of the Fish and Chips. My beer was also delicious (Samual Smith Organic Lager) and large (18.7 oz). Boyfriend seemed pretty pleased with his Boulevard seasonal (Irish Ale).

TNTPH also gains points in my book for their promotions. We went on University Night, so boyfriend and I each got 25% off beer and appetizers all night long. Other promotions include a general Happy Hour (same as University Night) 4-6 pm Tues-Fri, Trivia on Tuesdays (with all-night happy hour for neighborhood residents), and Dare 2 Pair on Wednesdays with 50% off the beer they suggest for specific menu items. Any of these make the higher prices a little more reasonable.

I think I'll be back to TNTPH at some point - I'd like to go for Trivia night, or some time when there are more people. I'd also like to go when I have a little more money and don't have a heart attack over a $41 bill for three people. May those times come soon :).

The Road, by Cormac McCarthy

I have an awful habit of jumping over to Wikipedia whenever I finish a book or movie. I don't really trust my own interpretation of events, and anyway, I was never very good at picking up symbolism. So I get someone else to do it for me. It's bad, I know, but I cannot help it that I am an extremely literal person.

I just finished reading The Road by Cormac McCarthy, and even before going over to Wikipedia, I must say that I really enjoyed it. For those who aren't familiar with the book, it is the story of a father and son who are trying to reach the coast in a post-apocalyptic world. Almost everything and everyone is dead, so they must survive on canned food that they find. I was surprised, but impressed, when I found out that this was an Oprah's Book Club pick. It also won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 2006.

The book itself was slow going at first, but McCarthy always is. Like any author whose writing style is different, it takes me a little while to get into the book. This happens with everything - Marx, Austen, etc. Having only read one McCarthy book before this (No Country for Old Men), I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm still not sure if this is representative of McCarthy's style, but there were lots of similarities between the two books. I'll be the first to admit - unset-off dialogue (with no quotation marks or anything) tends make me confused, especially in a long exchange. I forget which person is talking and I usually have to go back and read it again, more slowly.

But really, the dialogue confusion was my only complaint. This book was the perfect mix of withholding information with just enough to keep me engaged. Although I am a little embarrassed that I definitely thought they were headed west to the Pacific Ocean and through the Rocky Mountains (not south to the Gulf of Mexico or Atlantic Ocean through the Appalachians as is actually the case), I think I kept up with the story pretty well. During the time that I was reading the book, I kept thinking about it when I had to do something else, and I think this is the mark of a great, thought-provoking work.

I'm also very interested to see what the movie version will be like. Before I read the actual novel, I was skeptical about what I had heard and how well it would translate to film. After reading, though, I don't think they'll have a problem. Viggo Mortensen is more than adequete and it was nice to have his face to picture while reading the story. There is enough action to keep the movie going, but not so much that they'll have to cut much. I hope there are no drastic plot changes, though - everything in the novel seemed to work so well. I suppose some more backstory would be nice (woo flashbacks), and they might have to add more dialogue. I guess I'll find out November 26th.

The O.C., and California in General

I just finished watching the first season of The O.C., and in the spirit that this blog was created in (reviewing the world), I will both praise and critique it in my next post. This post, however, needs to be devoted to the state of California.

California always was (and still is) incredibly mystical to me. It's like Disneyland and hippies and movie stars and Hollywood and East of Eden and everything sunny and wonderful and oddball all focused in one place. I think my fascination started with Francesca Lia Block's novels (go Weetzie Bat!), and it just never stopped. She made California, LA in particular, seem magical and weird and amazing. Part of this was probably due to the genre: young adult magical realism.

It's more than that, though. The Beach Boys, the numerous California-themed songs (Rufus Wainwright, Phantom Planet). Not to mention punk. And ska. And most music that I listen to. Starting with Goldfinger, No Doubt, and Reel Big Fish, and then onto Social Distortion and Green Day and NoFX and Rancid and Tiger Army. I realize these aren't necessarily great musicians, but they mean a lot to me, or at least did at one point in my life.

Like any good teenager, I was never totally satisfied with my life. And I thought California could fix it. I could be liberal, like punk, dye my hair pink, and be vegetarian without anyone harassing me. I know it's ridiculous, but California seemed like a panacea for me. Of course I realize that California is probably none of those things. I still have never been there, and most people I talk to say how it's not really that great. But I still want to go. I think everyone feels that way about at least one place. I know I have impossible expectations for The Golden State, but isn't that part of the fun?

To end, I'll leave you with Phantom Planet, and the song that always gives me chills.

John Denver, I Heart You

So I am not truly unemployed - I work as a busser/"waiter's assistant" Friday night, Saturday morning, and Sunday morning. This is a really odd work schedule, to say the least. It's kind of like a negative image of everyone else's schedule. Anyway, it's really hard work. Lots of lifting and running around, and when I get home, I just want to veg out and relax. Today I got home and collapsed in front of the television. After flipping through endless sports games, I found A Song's Best Friend: John Denver Remembered on PBS.

This isn't really a dirty little secret, but it feels like one, for an unabashed lover of rock and punk. Here it is: I've always really liked John Denver. My mom had one of his tapes and would play it in the car when we were little - that's the only logical explanation I can come up with. Regardless, both "Leaving On a Jet Plane" and "Take Me Home, Country Roads" always give me shivers. Country Roads usually also brings tears to my eyes - I think because we would drive through the Blue Ridge Mountains (in West Virginia!) to go from Kentucky to my visit my mom's college roommate in Roanoke, VA. I could identify with those lyrics. Shit, the Shenandoah River. I also know I really love a song if I don't like its covers more (which is usually the case). Here is a sweet duet of John Denver and Johnny Cash singing Take Me Home, Country Roads. It's pretty awesome, but nothing near the original. And if Johnny Cash doesn't improve your song (see here), then I don't know what can.

One person I always associated with John Denver is Lou Reed. I know that they are actually quite different, but my first exposure to Reed was Transformer, which I think has a similar singer-songwriter vibe. Or maybe it's just two similarly-aged white men doing solo albums. Another is John Lennon, but I think that might just be the fact that they both wore glasses and had similar haircuts. If you have any John Denver-related connections or experiences, please share! I know I'm not the only one with an irrational love.

Line Dancing

After a very unfortunate dance unit in fifth grade (which involved learning line dancing, the bunny hop, and the hand jive), I pretty much forgot that line dancing existed. Unfortunately, St Louis's CBS station reminded me tonight with "St Louis Country! With Billy Ray Cyrus!" at 12 am Sunday morning (night?).

First, a little background on line dancing. All of my previous knowledge was from my gym teacher's enthusiasm (really, she loved that shit), and a five-second segment in Dirty Dancing (it really couldn't get high billing - line dancing is by nature, not dirty, which I'll discuss later). Wikipedia tells me that line dancing is "choreographed dance with a repeated sequence of steps in which a group of people dance in one or more lines (British English, "rows") without regard for the gender of the individuals, all facing the same direction, and executing the steps at the same time."

This whole dance style just smacks of fascism and obedience and mob mentality. People line up all facing the same direction, and perform choreographed steps in unison. The lines are parallel, and no one touches each other, and watching this country western concert on television is disconcerting. There are not merely random groups of four people scattered around in lines - there is a large group of at least 30 that has miraculously come together to line dance in uniform, parallel lines. I'm fascinated - did these people know each other? Did they confer and agree that they should all dance in unison? Or is it more magical, with the whole group spontaneously forming to walk sideways? This brings up another point - while line dancing looks very much the same all the time, there are different ways to walk sideways and rotate - how does this group of people know how to do the exact same steps and rotations every time? How???

I suppose the group mentality isn't all that different from the group consent that takes place in a mosh pit, but a dance pit feels like it has a bit more anarchy. You can get kicked in the head or punched in the face! You could fall down and get trampled to death! I don't see why anyone would prefer a safer form of concert activity! (kidding) Even without going to extremes, "regular" dancing, such as swing or salsa, isn't quite dancing if there aren't steps, but in other dances, there is room for improvising, and that is what makes dancing fun to do and fun to watch.

To end this brilliant comparison by stretching tenuous connections even more, The Electric Slide could even be seen as commending and encouraging capital punishment. See for yourself: It's electric, boogie woogie woogie.

Introduction

I'm starting this blog as I'm sure many great writers began: unemployed. Actually, many more not-so-great writers probably also started that way, too.

As a recent transplant from the largest city in the Great American Midwest to one not quite as large, I've spent a lot of time in my air-conditioned apartment. My goal is to explore the city more, but laziness has interfered so far. As has the lackluster public transportation program. Really that's just a poor excuse - the bus routes are comprehensive, just infrequent.

The purpose of this blog is to give me a public forum in which to pass judgment. I do it so well privately, I thought I should share my gift with the world at large. I will review music, movies, businesses, local attractions, and anything else that merits a decree of some sort. Hopefully, it will evolve into something more meaningful over time.

Of course, your all's judgments are welcome as well. There's room for everyone to have an opinion in this great Interweb of ours.