What you want can be different from what you need

Call me old fashioned, call me un-punk or dis-indie-franchised, but every time I hear a new band that is achieving genius in their own little room in the world of music, I want everyone to hear, love and accept them for the genius that they are. Is it because I want to share this beauty and enlightenment, this joy that I get from listening to them? Is it because I like rooting for success for the ones that deserve it? Or is it just the plain fact that 80% of mainstream music sucks a big fat dick. And lately, popular music has been choking on that dick and puking on your lap. Call me old fashioned again, but I’m not into getting puked on. However, when it comes to bringing enlightenment to the public and cleaning up the vomit on their lap, there are a few difficulties. For starters, some people liked to be puked on and aren’t down with a nice hearty, sensual blow job. You know, maybe a little deep-throating and a swallow and smile at the end. The beautiful art of fellatio.

OK, enough with the dick-in-mouth metaphors. Some people couldn’t conceive beauty if their name was Mary and God himself impregnated them. Sucks for them. Then there’s the simple problem of taste (I could make another dick reference but I won’t). Some stuff isn’t for everyone. Please see: marijuana, homosexuality, religion, democracy, etc. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and it’s hard to please everyone. Then there’s the simple fact that some bands don’t want to be discovered. Some bands, when there in the bigger room, might not know what to do and shit on themselves. The Strokes did it, ruining their cool pants with rancid new wave diarrhea. Nirvana started to, but then got to the toilet and Kurt flushed. I just wish bands got what the deserved. All this being said, go check out White Denim. They’re from Austin, one of the coolest music scenes of the moment. They play a mash-up of genres that’s difficult to describe. They’ve got a prog-funk-punk-soul thing going. Bottom line, they can play their instruments and have a lot of soul, two things often traded for “being cool”. Give them 5 listens, minimum. If you don’t “get it” in 5, try them one more time. I guarantee you’ll at least appreciate the musical genius even if they’re not for you.

Dear M.O.F., Thank you. Signed Daniel

No, it wasn’t the most exciting, shocking, or entertaining, but dammit, it was worth every single penny to see the most professional rock n roll concert I’ve ever attend. The venue, with its 150-year-old architecture and acoustics crisper than a fresh bag of Doritos, was the perfect showcase for 3 of music’s top song writers at the top of their game coming together like a giant indie rock Voltron called Monsters of Folk. For almost 3 hours these gentlemen, dressed in full suits, served up a 4 course meal of tasty tunes from their own separate catalogs and the M.O.F. album released earlier this year. The highlights consisted of sweet, buttery ballads marinated in each singer’s unique voice and lightly kissed with a zest au guitaire acoustic. Conor Oberst sounded silkier than ever, only returning to his wounded-and-angry boy hiss that we all fell in love with on his Bright Eyes renditions. M. Ward’s sexy Leonard Cohen minus a pack a day croon stole the show on his solo outings. But Jim James stole it right back with his long-lunged southern man-angel howls. The rest was the pure fun flare of three men who loved what they do and do what they love well. This was not a “show”, it was a “concert”. Thank you M.O.F. for putting on the best “concert” I’ve ever seen.