Monday, February 04, 2008

New Stuff vs. Old Stuff

In the category of Old Stuff, Saturday's Madonna vs. Blondie Dance Party rocked fairly hard, due in no small part to the Midget reminding me of the existence of "Call Me" at the last possible moment. A totally unforgivable oversight on my part. I mean, who the hell forgets about "Call Me"?

In the category of Not Quite as Old Stuff is the Guatamalan coffee Jessica was nice enough to bring me back from Ritual Roasters in San Francisco, quite possibly the most aesthetically pleasing coffeeshops on the planet. How could it not be with this handsome former gimme employee at the helm?Fantastic design sense and a great light roast Guat. PA and I have been french-pressing it all week and today I've been running shots through what's left. Pretty bright, but it's still making me happier than the local stuff, which has been a little thin and dull lately.

On the new tip, I finally made it down to Danny and Emily's new place in the West End, Fine Line. We weren't overly adventurous in our ordering, but the pork tenderloin with polenta and the mussels were pretty solid. The prices are decent (hopefully the wine pricing will be comparable once they get their liquor license), but the service was puzzlingly slow given that the Lawyer and I were far outnumbered by the staff. Craigslist claims of a "Little Brooklyn" are probably premature, but I think once they've had a couple weeks to work out the kinks and get their beer and wine operating, this will be a nice addition to Ithaca's list of places you can take someone who isn't necessarily a date but you might like the option of making out with.

Even newer than that, today the Big Brown Truck of Fun dropped off a buttload of records! I'm trying to decide how many are just coming home with me, but the new stuff I'm psyched about are the debut album by Basia Bulat, "Oh My Darling" and the third record by the Devastations, "Yes, U". The fine folks at Matador were nice enough to send an advance copy of the new Mountain Goats and Monade albums, which will make for nice post-trivia listening this evening.

Basia Bulat hails from the commonwealth of Canadia, home to such greats as Gordon Lightfoot (is Gord still alive?) and Tom Cochrane (the chubby dude who sings “Life is a Highway”). In far-flung London, ON, detached from Toronto’s Arts & Crafts behemoth and Montreal’s post-rock and Anglophone indie scenes, Ms.Bulat has more in common with the utterly amazing Julie Doiron than with the Broken Social Scene girls, although there’s a definite Feist element in the production. Lots of strings, very shiny. When I say she’s not as universally palatable as Feist, can we all understand that I mean that in a good way? Legs has pointed out that she sounds weirdly like Shakira if Shakira were good, a statement with a whole lot of assumptions built into it. She’s been touring around with the Veils, a band the Midget likes quite a bit and I find kind of histrionic. She falls somewhere between folk and pop, and if this picture is any indication, she plays one of those autoharp things.

Wow, the new Mountain Goats is sounding really good right now. And it has a song called “How to Embrace a Swamp Creature”. Anxiously awaiting Darnielle’s Black Sabbath book, which will apparently be out before mine.

The Devastations are from the whole other side of the world, a little joint called New Zealand, which I’m told is full of sheep and hobbits. A definite debt to Nick Cave here, although they’ve abandoned the resonant baritone vocals that marked their last album, “Coal” (get it, it rules). The vocals here are more full, the attempts at rocking out given up in favor of one long mid-tempo piece of inspired sleaze. The kind of sleaze that makes you aware of your whole body at once. Smokey stuff, a creeper. Now that I have to play a Vampire Weekend track by request every time I DJ in public, stuff like this is nice to come home to, accompanied by a finger of bourbon and bad thoughts.

Okay, halfway through the Mountain Goats and it’s trumping the last two albums, although not quite on par with “We Shall All Be Healed”. Going home to contemplate the removal of my beard.