Sunday, September 10, 2006

woxy :-(

Well, if you're like me, you recently began listening to WOXY.com's great mix of relatively unknown music. If you're not cool enough to have heard of them, check them out (quick) at woxy.com. If you've been listening to them for the whole two years, you're the kid who got to the party four hours early, and you're not cool. Take the pants below the navel, friend, and stop drinking so much punch.

...

They're shutting down. Damned labels. I don't know which part of their operating budget was so high, but I'm willing to bet it was the crazy licensing fees charged by labels to internet radio stations. My favorite part of the station were the Lounge Acts: in-house shows from your favorite or soon-to-be favorite bands. (The National were featured, so I've got mine...) Go check out what's there before they're gone. Download the ones that are available on MP3 since, you know, it's our generation's mark and all...

Saturday, September 02, 2006

eat it, bitch

Yeah, I'm beating the Tiger-half to the punch on this one. Technically, he got this new Ray Lamontagne album, Till The Sun Turns Black, a few hours before I did, but since he's a slackerbum, I'm going to post about it first. So, it's awesome. Very chill, like an acoustic David Gray. (I should be ashamed at myself for having just typed that, but it's for all the Lamontagne n00bs out there...)

Mr. Lamontagne should be alt-country/folk, but he isn't. He's a little bit blues. A little bit jazz. With some awesome thrown in. I'd be interested in hearing your genre-making, dear commenters, so please leave a little...

Here's a little sample. Get the album; you really won't be disappointed. I promise!

Ray Lamontagne - Empty

(Here's what the boys at www.songmeanings.net claim are the lyrics...looks good to me:)

She lifts her skirt up to her knees
Walks through the garden rows with her bare feet, laughing
I never learned to count my blessings
I choose instead to dwell in my disasters

Walk on down the hill
Through the grass grown tall and brown
And still it's hard somehow to let go of my pain
On past the busted back
Of that old and rusted Cadillac
That sinks into this field collecting rain

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged

Of these cutthroat busted sunsets
These cold and damp white mornings I have grown weary
If through my cracked and dusty dimestore lips
I spoke these words out loud would no one hear me

Lay your blouse across the chair
Let fall the flowers from your hair
And kiss me with that country mouth so plain
Outside the rain is tapping on the leaves
To me it sounds like they're applauding us
The quiet love we make

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged

Well I looked my demons in the eyes
Laid bare my chest said do your best: destroy me
See I've been to hell and back so many times
I must admit you kinda bore me

There's a lot of things that can kill a man
There's a lot of ways to die
Yes and some already dead who walk beside me
There's a lot of things I don't understand
Why so many people lie
Well it's the hurt I hide that fuels the fires inside me

Will I always feel this way
So empty, so estranged