peevish mama

Valentine’s Day is Dash and my quasi-anniversary. It’s sort of when we started going out, or rather when I stopped playing foolishly, flippantly hard to get. It was 1992, we cooked steak with blue cheese in the creaky blue house on St. Peter’s Street that I shared with five other girls. It seems like a lifetime ago and yet just yesterday.

We pay attention to Valentine’s Day. It’s a good day for me and my man. Some years we cook at home, some years we go out. This year we are stepping out for the Poliça concert. The singer, Channy Moon Caselle, was also in GAYNGS, who I LOVE, and Roma di Luna, who I didn’t know, but is no longer together. Poliça plays around with auto tune to great effect and there are TWO sets of drummers. Caselle is a songbird and the whole mess is cool, hypnotic and SEEEEXXXXXY! Perfect for Tuesday night. After the show we’ll find a perch at a bar and feast. I can’t wait. Tuesday! Tuesday! Let it be Tuesday!

Could she have been more talented, promising, bubbly and flat out gorgeous? She should have grown old and become one of the QUEENS.

I’m feeling as scattered as chicken feed. I’m woozy and hungover from a weekend away with my increasingly rowdy book club. I’ve got something up my sleeve that I’m getting ready to spring on the world. I don’t seem to have time for anything these days. And I’m kind of in love with this lanky red head. She’s a cerebral fashionista and that’s not even what she really does with her life. Cool chick. And in addition to the aforementioned, I’m saaaaaad we got shut out of tix for her April show. Sniff. OK, back to scattered life. Maybe after listening one more time.  

This music monday is a long distance hug for my little brother, Maestro de Bife, who just left for a year in Australia to do a hepatobiliary fellowship. Spell check does NOT recognize that word, but it’s for real – something about livers and such. The other day my mother was telling me what times to call him and kept illustrating different 15 hour time differences for me to try. My two thoughts were 1. ya ya ya, I can do math and 2. damn, he’s far away.

I love this song by Australian/Belgian Gotye. The whole thing is beautiful, but it sort of explodes around minute 3 and swallows you up. And it turns out Devil Baby really loves body paint, because she kept asking to watch this video over and over.

Through the rabbit hole that is youTube, I discovered the awesome Kimbra. She’s from New Zealand but based in Australia and it’s hard to pinpoint her genre, except to say she’s a little soul, a little pop, a little jazz, and a lot catchy. There are moments when she kind of sounds like Santigold to me, in that she has a unique, silvery, slippery sound that’s hard to categorize but impossible to resist. Don’t let the fact that she looks a bit like Katy Perry fool you. This girl is legit. And also, possibly, has THE BEST collection of dresses ever. The pink in Cameo Lover and the black in Settle Down are to DIE for. And if you too find yourself going down the rabbit hole, don’t miss the Live at Sing Sing Studios sessions. There’s yet another dynamite dress in it for you – as well as a stripped down, soulful Kimbra.

 Last week I had the pleasure of curling up on the couch to watch Under the Great White Northern Lights with Dash in the middle of the afternoon. There are some real perks to having a husband who works nights. His first day off after a week of work is a cobwebby affair for him – a day best spent having long lunches and catching a movie. Nothing too taxing, but entertaining enough to keep him awake during the hours he’s usually in a deep sleep. It felt indulgent, almost unseemly to be so firmly ensconced in our basement on a blustery January day, but hey, someone’s got to keep him company.

I loved this movie. If you like the White Stripes, you will love it too. And if you don’t and somehow I can convince you to watch it anyway, I can’t see how you won’t fall head over heels for this band (which is sort of a cruel thing to do to you considering they are no longer a band). No matter, this documentary is cool to look at, gorgeous to listen to and Jack White gives us a generous look into his creative process, which is impressive, fascinating and completely humbling What he does looks effortless, but as we learn, it is anything but.

 Resplendent in yellow, I love Nina singing Ain’t Got No – I’ve Got Life. This version is almost downright kicky, a perfect dose of sunshine and self-love for this Martin Luther King Day. And that dress? I want it. Enjoy. She’s incredible, isn’t she?

David Bowie turned freaking SIXTY FIVE yesterday. He is like no other. He is spectacular. J’adore, like, for realz. Oh man. ANY Bowie song, ANY time, ANY where will send my hand to my chest in a dramatic I may swoon gesture. It’s Pavlovian. I love. I love. Lovelovelovelovelove! Check out this collection of 65 iconic images of the Thin White Duke and see if it doesn’t make you want to tape your boobs down and put on a tuxedo, or if you’re a boy, you know, the opposite. Hats off to you, Mr. Bowie.

Where have I been people? I’ve been in Florida visiting my parents with the kids. I got to see Maestro de Bife before he goes to Australia for a year and got to meet his very sweet, very cool lady love. An extremely enthusiastic thumbs up from the peanut gallery on her! We had warm days and cool days, but the sun was always out and we got our injection of family and Vitamin D. Despite the long walks, the great meals, the beach with its constant source of peace and treasures, it was an odd week for me.

My heart kept flying back to Minneapolis. I would be squinting up into palm fronds dancing beneath a blazing blue sky, but my thoughts were with the people in the dark and muddy north. For starters, Dash and Foxy were at home, so there was that feeling of being slightly off kilter that comes from the family not being whole. Then there was the fact that Lady Tabouli and Lady Doctor Poodle’s mom died in the wee hours of the new year after a very long, hard battle with ovarian cancer. As I got to enjoy my mother, bustling around, doing the things she does, I wondered about my girls and how they were faring in Chicago at the end, but in some ways at the beginning, of a very hard journey. On top of that, I heard of Jack Jablonski’s spinal cord injury almost immediately after it happened through the Carondelet grapevine. A sophomore in high school, an alum of our little grade school, he was horrifically injured during a hockey game and will likely never walk again. It seems he may not even have use of his arms. It is heart breaking. It is a tragedy. There aren’t words for this. Again, thoughts of Jack’s parents, their utter agony, kept my thoughts pinned to Minneapolis. I still cannot stop thinking about this boy.

So for this belated Music Monday, a little something from home, from the place that preoccupied my mind when I was far away. Howler is a young band from the hood whom I had heard on the radio but was hugely surprised to see featured on Rolling Stone’s website. Go little dudes! They are darling and, in my opinion, quite good. A couple days before we went to Florida we had a small dance party with some families and after the tornado of goodness had passed, Saint James and I were lolling on the couch thinking about all the songs we wished we had played. It was late, we were tired, but there we lingered, luxuriating in the glow of the Christmas lights and the silently spinning disco ball. Can you find that song by those kids from our neighborhood? he asked, apropos of nothing. Ah, he had heard rumors. I grabbed the laptop and we watched it together, his head on my shoulder – a perfect ending to a perfect night.

Here’s a small reminder that at any one time, in any one place, there are myriad stories unfurling: endings, beginnings, heart break, triumphs and everything in between; a reminder that, for better or worse, the world just keeps on spinning. Enjoy. (And notice the basement of Java Jacks.)

It feels specious to say Happy New Year. But, what else is there left to say?

OK, so Christmas is over, New Years is coming and for today’s Music Monday I’m feeling like a little gratuitous booty pop. As an aside, I happen to love Nicki Minaj. Big surprise. She’s a freak but she can back it up – she’s the real deal, and as hoochy as she can go, I feel like she’s doing it on her own terms. Theatrical, left of center, and so funny. will.i.am, being the master sampler that he is, has remixed the Buggles song which, arguably, defined our generation. It sounds as great today as it from the couch in my rainbow-colored toe socks, latched to MTV like a teat. CHECK IT OUT.

Here we go. One of the busiest weeks of the year. Christmas concerts and school parties, wrapping and cooking, constantly running out for one last thing. Here’s to a little quiet in the midst of it all. I can’t think of anyone more appropriate for this Music Monday than Joni Mitchell, who sings like an angel. Not a Christmas song, per se. Not a happy song, per se. But a song that slows you down, wrings your heart and makes you want to hold your dearest loves close and tight.

On Friday night there was a collision – the girl in me who wants to fly around in the dark and hear loud live music, feeling it in every cell in her body, ran up against the mother and wife that I am on the outside and in the present. Mostly, these two pieces of me can co-exist peacefully. Mostly, I find that one actually helps the other. After I get to see something that moves me, that opens my mind and my heart, I think I’m actually a better mother. The next morning, my kids come down to breakfast and I’m usually playing whatever it is I heard the night before, all bright and happy, savoring that shimmer left behind, and they ask questions and they listen to the music and I tell them everything. Perhaps I am rationalizing, but my kids’ take-away might be this: art is one of life’s priorities and live music lifts up everyone in the room, the performers and every last person in the audience. I swear, First Avenue is like OZ to them. When they finally get to go, it’s going to be epic. But, as I’ve said before, this town is so chocked full of good music that Dash and I have to turn a blind eye to many many things we would like to see. And even with that kind of triage, there can still come a night when you look at the ticket, sigh and decide that staying in is the right thing to do.

I fell for Doomtree a couple summers ago when they played at the Lake Harriet Bandshell during the Music and Movies Series. We went with our neighbors on a beautiful August night and while the girls stood in line for free t-shirts that were being silkscreened on the spot, our boys stood on the benches and watched, rapt. How cute are they?It was a joyous rapping free-for-all and our guys were drinking it up. (I bet that’s what spawned their careers as Lil’ Ziggy, G-Dog and TNT.)

Doomtree is a Minneapolis collective of seven musicians who each go out and do their own thing, while coming “home” to collaborate with the each other in all sorts of different combinations and constellations. It’s so cool. They’re so cool – super talented, hard working, smart, honest. Dessa, beautiful, bad-ass Dessa, is the only woman. And I didn’t go to see their Blow-Out on Friday night – my sad little ticket is sitting on my bureau. I’m a little bitter, of course, but I snuggled on the couch with my monkeys and watched TV. And that kind of night, as we know, possesses its own kind of magic. But I’m still bitter – Nanook calls it FOMO (fear of missing out). I’ve got IKIMO (I know I missed out). Watch this for a little idea of how they work. So good.

I love this band, although I don’t think you’d really call it a band. More of a French dude. And you all know I happen to have a thing for French dudes – French Canadian dudes, anyway. This song is Midnight City off the new album, Hurry Up, We’re Dreaming. It’s the perfect music for tiny dancing, the season for which is fast approaching, so get ready. The night before Thanksgiving, I went to Transmission with my dancing girls and, in a brilliant move, DJ Jake busted this song out. Heaven. The top of my head popped off and out blew reams and reams of confetti. Really. Ask anyone. It blends seamlessly with 80’s new wave, which is probably why I like it so very much.

Do you remember when I broke your clutch and you threw both your shoes at me? Talking your brother into buying us wine cause we didn’t have any I.D. This Minnesota boy came home for Thanksgiving and put on a really beautiful show on Saturday night. It was my first time seeing him and well, now, I’m a little smitten. He’s thoughtful, poetic, gracious and . . . tall. I stood right next to him at the t-shirt table. Tall. His lyrics are simple, painterly, exquisitely attuned to those tiny nothing moments in life that mean everything – especially in retrospect. So lovely.

If you’re married to someone who loves The Black Keys as much as Doctor Dash does, you end up loving them too. This is off their new album, El Camino, coming December 6, and it’s an awesome song with an even better video. Y’all know how I feel about dancing – in all its wondrous and quirky permutations. This guy makes me happy. Enjoy. And maybe shake what yo’ mama gave you a little too. Happy Monday!

And did you notice that person peeking out of the “office” window at 30 seconds? What must she be thinking?

Check out this cool graphic depiction of the evolution of music. It’s sort of mind boggling and I can’t help but think of the spread of contagion – of the musicians, elders, kids and dj’s carrying this music from place to place back when music had to move physically, if it was to move at all. Heady, no?

Also, on this very tired Monday morning after a late arrival from Boston last night, I just want to curl up with the musical equivalent of a warm fuzzy blanket. Enjoy Lykke Li’s cover of Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow – so pretty, as is she. I’m intrigued by her because she’s quirky and weird – the kind of girl who would put bells on her ankles and sing a cappella in a public square. She played to a sold out First Ave last night while we were on an airplane hurtling through the night. I would have liked to have seen her, but I wouldn’t have traded this weekend for a hundred shows. We went for Dash’s cousin’s wedding, and in an absolutely jam packed weekend, we got to squeeze in lots of fiercely lovely time with our family and all of our East Coast peeps. It was intense, fun, and as always, bittersweet. I miss everyone.