
Uhhhh. I'm sorry. Regarding this. I mistook some random guy for P. Diddy. I saw P. Diddy on Tuesday, standing up shaking hands with someone who was sitting down, or at least I had a pretty good idea it was P. Diddy, and had a sense he was roughly in the area where the random guy was, and zoomed in on that area (in the photo Anthony found) to confirm with you, dear readers, knowers of everything, that I was identifying the rapper correctly, as I have very little idea what P. Diddy looks like, as my favorite band is Belle & Sebastian, and although you can argue this is an example of my Northwest-y "subtle racism" if you like, I think it just means I'm an idiot. In fact I think it reveals I am attracted to that random guy, for some reason. Sorry, guy, whoever you are, for being confused for a rich and famous person, or for being a rich and famous person I don't know.
And thanks for the help, you. The guy I believed to be P. Diddy, and still believe to be P. Diddy, is in the photo above, standing behind Mr. Washington.
⇒ Further reading on the subject of subtle Northwest "racism": David Schmader's brilliant, sincere regret in the 2008 Regrets Issue regarding two non-white performers he confused with one another, in the presence of one another.
Turns out he's become quite a successful hot sauce entrepreneur.
Via the LA Times:
Bandito is now being bottled at the brisk pace of 300 gallons a month and is even being sold through Albertsons supermarkets in Southern California and Las Vegas, a triumph for a venture that faced a dizzying array of competitors and started as a spicy lark."Growing up here I was always into Mexican food and culture, Day of the Dead, all of it, and one day I looked at a hot sauce bottle and wondered if I could do better," the 43-year-old Holland says...
(Photo via gringobandito.com)
Great songs are like uppers—but without the constant teeth grinding, nasal-membrane erosion, and grimacing. I would like to start a series of posts titled Most Uplifting Songs Ever (aka MUSE) that spotlights the tunes on which I can rely to elevate my mood (with no negative side effects), no matter how oppressive my deadlines, no matter how grim the news is, no matter how lousy the weather, no matter how severely the publishing industry continues to collapse (okay, maybe they can't ameliorate that last one). You may feel the same way about them.
As the series progresses, I recommend that you tape, record onto CD-R, or download onto your iTunes or iPod these songs, and experience the rush of all the world's supermodels simultaneously inhaling Himalayas of coke. (Not that I would know what this feels like, but I can imagine it's pretty spectacular.)
Let’s kick off this mess with the Meters’ “Pickin’ and a Grinnin’,” an atypically speedy track by these New Orleans funk legends that reminds me of the oft-sampled “Sport” from Lightnin’ Rod’s Hustler’s Convention LP. If “Pickin’ and a Grinnin’” doesn’t inspire you to a personal best in whichever athletic endeavor floats your boat (including mixing metaphors), I will be kind of surprised.
Because our hiphop columnist, Larry Mizell, wrote these disturbing words ("and even still : biggie was a superior mc to [roxanne shante]") in the comment section for this post, I have decided to take the matter directly to the people. Democracy, which is better?
"Have a Nice Day" (1987)
or
"Juicy" (1994)
Which is better?
The NYT has an article about Perlman & Co. accompanying a pre-recorded performance of John Williams' "Air and Simple Gifts" at the Inaugural. I would have liked to sit close by just to see if my ears could detect discrepancies between what was live and prerecorded. Oh, and the Chamber Music America Blog has a marvelous post with diagrams and tables explaining the vulnerability of wood stringed instruments to weather.
As for John Williams' music, I couldn't recall a single note until I re-listened to the piece, below. The piece was well-scored, however the repetition of the clarinet figure at 1'36 was unnecessary and too beautiful to need repeating; despite a stately proclamation of "Simple Gifts" at 2'09, the resulting semi-spiraling piano obbligato clouded a cello part at 2'23 that would have been better heard solo; also, the peroration at 3'19 is lovely and compensates for the hackneyed (and desultory) exchanges between violin and cello that infest the piece around 2'40; and why not give the pianist something interesting to play? So much more could have been done with the source material - ambulatory polyphony, wrenching arioso solos, exploiting the microphone proximity effect, etc. - that could cast the Shaker Hymn "Simple Gifts" in a new light. Aaron Copland fared better when he deftly embedded within "Appalachian Spring."
To be fair, most "occasional" pieces are just that, pieces written for an occasion and lucky to last beyond that day. Generally, I do like John Williams' music: he writes memorable, often stirring themes: "The Mission" for NBC News is my favorite, barely topping his "Imperial March for "Star Wars (Imperial March" and the main title of "Superman." Williams tends to come up short on secondary themes ("The Mission" and "Raiders of the Lost Ark" are two memorable exceptions), lapsing into rather rote variations or short-winded tunes. Like most composers, especially those who write for films, he lacks "the long ear" - the ability to make large forms mean more than an accumulation of lovely tunes, textures or combination thereof.
Classical music fans were no doubt happy to see "Classical Music" at the Inaugural, but whether it bodes well for arts education remains to be seen. In tough times, arts funding is the first to go. Until we see several generations immersed in arts education (whatever that is), people will continue to discover and dig art on an ad hoc basis (oldies radio, college & internet stations, first Thursdays, newspapers, word of mouth, random Wikipedia surfing, your cool New Wave Aunt with big earrings, etc.)
Anyway, the most interesting music I heard that day was supplied by Aretha Franklin whose melismas overcame a crap arrangement - and this improvised soundscape created by C-SPAN filled with interstital moments and the occasional (yet oddly alluring) technical fault.

The next edition of KEXP Wo’Pop host Darek Mazzone’s quarterly night Juice goes down Sat. Jan. 24 at Lo-Fi Performance Gallery. Juice immerses you in a nourishing broth of what Mazzone describes as “international hiphop, South Asian dancehall, gypsy electro, Jamaican glitch, samba, bhangra, reggaeton, cumbia—the cutting edge of global beats.” Joining Mazzone on the decks will be Rhythma and Gringo Starr.
Cover charge for tomorrow’s 21+ event is $10 and all of it benefits four charities: Crooked Trails, Community Empowerment Network, BMK Foundation, and AMA Foundation.
(Wo’Pop can be heard Tuesdays 6 pm-9 pm on 90.3FM and www.kexp.org.)
On the earlier post about the Arcade Fire covering Sprinteen's "Born in the USA" at the Obama Staff Ball, commenter Reverend Z says:
Why do people keep playing this song like it's something patriotic? At an appearance for a man who ran his campaign on the hope and promise of a new America - why would Arcade Fire choose a song written from the point of view of a betrayed Vietnam Vet?The song is a rant about the mistreatment of our soldiers after their return from war. Yes, it's politically relevant given the situation in Iraq and the info that we've been hearing about Walter Reed, but it's not a celebratory song. At a moment full of pride and aspiration in our country, shoudl we be advertising one of our country's greatest failures?
Another perfect example of a song being misconstrued and/or played at a very inappropriate time is Tone-Loc's "Funky Cold Medina." I remember this song being played at my junior high dances (they were sponsored by KUBE 93). I'm sure it's been played at a poorly-DJ'd wedding reception or two too. And while the song might come off as a little dance number, perfect for the club because it's about drinking and getting action and everything, it's really about spiking a woman's drink with a date rape drug.
This brother told me a secret
On how to get more chicks
Put a little medina in your glass
And the girls'll come real quick
It's better than any alcohol
Or afrodesiac
A couple of sips of this love potion and she'll be on your lap
The fact that that was being blasted to a room full of clueless 8th graders is hilarious.
There are so many more examples, I'm sure. Help me think of them.
...So if you find his backpack, which he lost last night after Club Pop, please do return it:

Thanks.

There is one problematic angle when it comes to writing about music for a publication such as The Stranger: the most enjoyable music to write about isn’t necessarily the most appropriate for the format. While I would love to expound on the virtues of the Lewd Acts/Hour of the Wolf split 7”, I have to acknowledge that most LineOut readers really don’t give a shit about hardcore. And furthermore, most hardcore kids don’t really want to see their under-the-radar scene paraded around in an alternative weekly. I still remember being upset over The Rocket’s negative review of Undertow’s At Both Ends album back in 1994. What authority did a bunch of aging bar rockers have to evaluate a band like Undertow? I would’ve rather the band remained an all-ages underground secret than get dissed in the weeklies.
The same goes for black metal. Granted, I generally hold the genre in the same regard that I hold William S. Burroughs—the subject tends to be more interesting than the actual art. The Letters of William S. Burroughs? Yes please. Naked Lunch? No thanks. Likewise, I’d rather read about Mayhem than listen to any of their albums. But occasionally a truly remarkable album will come out of this particular subculture that I feel deserves some attention. But reporting on black metal entails a significant Catch 22. Part of the genre’s appeal is its commitment to form, its unceasing and complete adherence to misanthropy and nihilism. While the evil façade of traditional metal acts extends only to lyrics and artwork, the more reputable black metal artists manage to maintain their malevolent personas off the stage. And while this makes for a fascinating subject, it makes reporting on black metal a touchy subject. Just look at the Nachtmystium controversy that unfolded on this blog back in October. How much of the evil is genuine and how much is act? Is it really worth giving press time to artists like Varg Vikernes of Burzum? And on the flipside, do black metal fans really wanted to see bands like Deathspell Omega or Carpathian Forest exposed to a wider audience?
I’ve been stewing on the subject for the last few weeks as I’ve made daily checks to Craft’s website for updates on the progress of their new album. Originally slated for release in 2008, the final tracking sessions for the record are supposedly wrapping up this month. Normally I wouldn’t bother mentioning a Swedish black metal band’s recording developments in this forum, but Craft is an exception to the rule. Their third album, Fuck The Universe, generated a small but noteworthy buzz when it was released in 2005. But the buzz doesn’t seem to be dissipating as much as growing exponentially. Fuck The Universe’s appeal seems to be transcending the small cluster of black metal enthusiasts and resonating with fans of various extreme music forms. I’ve heard a surprising variety of music geeks speak of it with reverence. And with good reason. Fuck The Universe doesn’t necessarily add much innovation to the black metal canon, but it exploits the genre’s trademark washes of blurry dissonance with memorable hooks to a more effective degree than most of their peers. They’ve managed to employ the good elements of black metal (the mystique, the discord, the blasphemy) while eschewing its trappings (embarrassing forays into goth and folk territory, poor production choices, one dimensional songwriting). It’s a surprisingly effective record, and a good starting point for people that may have been dismissive of the genre in the past. Their crossover appeal, along with their denouncement of National Socialism, makes them worthy of broader attention.
Knowing the fickle nature of underground music scenes, this is probably the point when Craft will start to lose their original fanbase. Critics be damned. Fuck The Universe is a stellar album, and I eagerly await the news that they’ve finished their next record.
Less than one week ago, Blake Schwarzenbach performed a solo acoustic set at a bar in Brooklyn (a benefit for 826NYC). The set included the song "My First Time" ("It's about losing my virginity in Venice, California in 11th grade to a 9th grade girl who was way ahead of me") and "Vivid Green," a song he wrote for his nephew.
I love the lyric "A mother's nightmare, a father's dream."
(Thanks, Jasen.)
Also: In the sidebar on YouTube, one of the related videos is Blake Lewis covering "You Give Love a Bad Name" on American Idol. I think that's funny.

Is this P. Diddy? (I identified this guy as P. Diddy in something I wrote on Slog the other day. He was definitely getting celebrity attention. This photo isn't great, he's making a weird face, and I don't really know my rappers, so I need a Diddy expert.)
It's not nearly as good as I imagined it would be... still worth seeing if you're an Arcade Fire fan.
(ht Pitchfork)
As I told y'all in this week's My Philosophy, Chase Jarvis got damn near all the key MC's and DJ's in Seattle hiphop in one room, eating, drinking, and doing what they do best. Here's the performances from Blue Scholars' Geologic and Macklemore.
How are the conservatives gonna spin this one?: Itszhak Perlman and Yo Yo Ma’s inaugural performance was prerecorded
Listening to Bright Flight as I mourn the loss: Silver Jews call it a day
Prepare to be depressed: Forbes announces the top ten selling artists of 2008
Sounds more interesting than The Return of Bruno: Ryan Gosling and Zach Shields release album
The rich man’s eight track: Hardcore label Think Fast! abandons CDs, goes strictly vinyl and digital
Atlanta doesn’t deserve this: Scion Fest adds even more bands
First of all, the correction—this band:
...Not playing at the Katy Perry concert tonight.
Last week, Idolator reported that Alphabeat had dropped off the Katy Perry tour. Music nerds groused in their comments, and I capped my U&C for tonight's show with the following lament:
And why the hell are Alphabeat off this bill now? I would've gone just to see them.
But our ever-scrupulous fact checkers got word from the Showbox that, despite Idolator's announcement and Aphabeat not having any tour dates listed on their website or myspace, that the band was still on the bill. So, the ending was amended to:
I would go just to see Danish wonky popsters Alphabeat, though.
Which is technically still correct—I would go, if they were they actually playing. But then, on Tuesday, after the paper had gone to print, the Showbox sent an email confirming that, yes, Alphabeat were off the bill, to be replaced by some band called Daylights, whose myspace page has banner ads featuring the douchey-looking band for Coca-Cola and Miller.
All of which sausage-making is terribly boring and not really important, since the show is sold-out anyway, but still, I can't be the only person who was considering braving that terror just for the sake of those adorable Danes, and it's as good an excuse as any to post the above video.
(Also, let it be known: for every time something like this happens, which is like once in two years, our fact-checkers save my ass several times a week on stuff as potentially embarrassing as confusing Al Green for Marvin Gaye—really, fireable offense type stuff—so, thank you, fact checkers!)
Prince vs. Michael: DJs Dave Paul and Indica Jones
(Nectar) At this stage of history, it seems almost cruel to cast Prince and Michael Jackson as rivals. While the former continues to compose, record, perform, and tour with the obsessive artistry that has distinguished his three-decades-and-counting career, the latter is content to repackage old hits ad infinitum and skirt bankruptcy by the skin of what's left of his nose. About the only forum where Prince and Jackson can contend as near equals is on the dance floor, where the greatest dance records of each remain universal intoxicants. Tonight, DJ Dave Paul, founder and CEO of San Francisco's legendary Bomb Hip-Hop record label, returns to Seattle, bringing his renowned "Prince vs. Michael" dance party—featuring hits, rarities, and remixes of both icons—to Nectar. DAVID SCHMADER
Katy Perry, Alphabet
(Showbox at the Market) In a recent interview with New York magazine, Antony "and the Johnsons" Hegarty said he thought Sean Penn's portrayal of gay politician Harvey Milk in Milk was "like blackface... it's a continuing Hollywood minstrel show, co-opting queer stories and perversely building up the careers of these heterosexual bastards." So, Hegarty's probably not a huge fan of Katy Perry's breakout single, "I Kissed a Girl," in which evangelical spawn Perry affects some limply titillating bi-curiosity but still hopes her boyfriend "don't mind it." (This is of course to say nothing of her other atrocious single, "Ur So Gay," which reduces homosexuality to little more than the wearing of an H&M scarf.) Still, such lyrical offenses might be excusable, even enjoyable, if only the music were at all interesting (cf. the gender/identity tourism of Of Montreal's Kevin Barnes/Georgie Fruit). I would go just to see Danish wonky popsters Alphabeat, though. ERIC GRANDY
Ms. Led, Wallpaper, the Camellias
(High Dive, late) All good things must come to an end, and tonight, after nine years of post—riot grrrl post-punk ass-kicking, Seattle's Ms. Led perform the final show of their career. "Regular" Ms. Led live shows are smashing dance parties, and tonight's finale should be an ecstatic massacre. Go and get your last fix of a band that's been fighting the good fight for the past near-decade, and scream loud enough to power leader Lesli Wood onto whatever glories shall next be wrought from her significant talent. DAVID SCHMADER

Unnatural Helpers, the Fresh & Onlys, Idle Times
(Sunset) Unnatural Helpers could be considered Seattle's Replacements (pre-Tim Replacements, that is): ramshackle, noisy, tuneful, and fun. There's nothing original about Unnatural Helpers, but there's plenty good about them, including their knack for writing concise songs with great hooks. Rudimentary wins the day. Featuring members of the Catheters, Unnatural Helpers, and Tall Birds, Idle Times are like UN's more accomplished doppelgängers, although they're far from slick—they may remind some of the excellent Soundgarden side project Hater. No-frills rock with a sweet balance of raucousness and tunefulness: In the right hands, that's quite enough. The Fresh & Onlys craft spot-on facsimiles of regional American teen-beat hits circa 1966. DAVE SEGAL
Listen to Unnatural Helpers via MySpace.
Black Eyes & Neckties, Prize Country, Madraso, Rad Touch
(Comet) It's likely that no local band is more stoked about the Murder City Devils' upcoming Seattle shows than Bellingham's Black Eyes & Neckties. Or, maybe not, actually.... The goth-rock dance band borrows heavily from Murder City's haunted rock-and-roll sound with live performances just as blistering as the most memorable Spencer Moody and company moments (last summer, the band's thrash-happy singer broke his ankle onstage, for example). And with MCD long gone, BE&N could nicely fill the hole in our hearts. If there's not enough room in the Northwest for both bands, I propose a battle—of wits, rock, and dance moves. May the best fake-blood-soaked, sweater-vest-wearing, electric-organ-pounding band win. MEGAN SELING
But that's not all! The Cumulus Festival kicks off tonight at Chop Suey with Earth, Joy Wants Eternity, Correspondents and This Is a Process of a Still Life; Larry Mizell has some Friday night picks including Neema in this week's My Philosophy, and Ruff Gemz is at Lo-Fi.
If you want even more to choose from, see all of tonight's listings in our online calendar.