White rabbits

I think a lot about synchronicity.  Not the Police album, but the concept.  In particular, when some random piece of information floats into my life, and then within a day or so I see that same information again in a completely different context.  Does this happen to you?  One day you read a word like "nacreous" in a book or something, and you're like 'that's a crazy word, what does it mean?' and then you look it up (if you're a big nerd like me) or just wonder about it, and then a few hours later you're listening to the radio and the announcer talks about the nacreous sheen on the inside of oyster shells.  Why is the radio announcer talking about oyster shells anyway?  I don't know, it's just an example!

Anyway, two days ago I heard "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane for the first time since I was a teenager.  Seriously, it's been over twenty years.  Of course, that opening bassline, and the marching drum beat is so iconic and memorable it took all of one second to know what song I was listening to.  Where was I when I heard the song?  At an indoor climbing gym.  I never really thought of Jefferson Airplane as being great climbing music, but there it was.

Yesterday I was wandering through an antique store at lunch, and nearly tripped over a stack of records propped against the base of an overpriced dresser.  The record on the front of the stack was Surrealistic Pillow, by Jefferson Airplane, which is the album White Rabbit is on.

I didn't buy the album, because it was in terrible shape.  But it got me thinking about synchronicity again.  I don't really feel like two instances of information appearing in close proximity is enough to be amazed or dumbfounded over.  I mean, we're seriously bombarded by information of all shapes and sizes all day every day, it's no wonder it doesn't happen more often.  I think if I got four or more random instances of the same obscure and unlooked for piece of information within 24 hours, I'd be more inclined to consider the potential for a conspiracy, but until that happened, I'll just treat it as a gentle prompting from my subconscious to listen to this old song again and enjoy some pleasant teenage memories.

Buckethead and friends

Back in college, in... the 90s... I had a friend who was really into Buckethead.  I'd never heard of the guy before, but I was kind of fascinated by this story of an amazing guitarist that only appeared on stage with an empty friend chicken bucket on his head, and a creepy mask.  And clothing, too, I mean, it's not like he's only wearing a chicken bucket.

Anyway, he had this import album called Bucketheadland, and he played it for me a few times.  It's crazy and epic and bizarre, and Buckethead can play the guitar like a madman.  I don't understand why he feels like he needs a bucket on his head.  It makes it harder for me to take him seriously as a musician.  On the other hand, listening to him play guitar makes me forget he has a bucket on his head.  It's a weird one.

It might feel like work at times to listen to the whole thing, but fortunately for you the first six or seven minutes of the album is all you need to discover his epic genius.  The Giant Robot Theme is so awesome I could easily get teary eyed imagining giant robots entering some field of battle to fight huge aliens for the future of Earth.

Now, at that time I also learned about a band called Praxis, which was a loose collaboration of different artists, including Bootsy Collins, John Zorn, and a Japanese noise artist named Yamatsuka Eye.  I got to hear their album Sacrifist, and immediately fell in love with the song Rivet, which was written in part by Buckethead.  Hey, scream along if you know the words!

Learning a little more about Yamatsuka Eye, I realized that I'd actually heard something else by him back in high school, when an Italian exchange student who came to live at my house during my junior year brought his cassette of Naked City's album Torture Garden.  Although I appreciated that album conceptually at the time, it was the kind of thing I could only listen to for a few minutes at a time.  Go ahead and try a little bit of it for yourself.

New car, new music

Okay, it's new to me, even if it isn't new new.  I loved my car, it was great and it worked great and I had it just the way I liked it.  Sure it had some built-up layers of junk that had accumulated under the seats, but I had all the CDs I like in the glove box, and it was just comfortable.  Then someone ran a red light and sideswiped me, and even though there wasn't a lot of damage, there was enough that it was totaled.  Great.  I get to do my least favorite thing in the whole world, which is shop for a car.  I don't like buying from car dealerships, because even the most pleasant experience feels like a sham.  I don't like buying from private parties, because even though most people are probably fine, I'm worried I'll get the one that's trying to sell me a lemon.

Whatever.  I got through it, and now I have a car to drive again, and that's great.  More importantly, it has a good stereo, and it can play CDs, and I can also plug in... my ipod!  Wow.  I've arrived.

I forgot to put all the CDs back in this car this morning, and I don't have an adapter cable yet, so I was stuck listening to the radio, where i heard an old Shins song, and I was reminded that I like the Shins and I should listen to them again.

"New Slang" was pretty big for a while there, especially after that movie Garden State came out, but I think one of my favorites was/is "Kissing The Lipless," from their second album Chutes Too Narrow:

Deep Cuts

I am digging this album by The Knife.  Also, "Deep Cuts" is an awesome album title, especially from a band called "The Knife."  Maybe it's a little on-the-nose, but whatever.  Of course, an album called "Deep Cuts" should probably have actual deep cuts on it - old B-sides and collected never-before-released live tracks from random concerts.

Vacation find #3

Well, on our trip through Spain and Portugal we stayed in seven different cities, and found records for sale in three of them.  Seville had actual record stores, Lagos had a music store, and Segovia had a collectibles store that was mostly coins and stamps, but also had some antiques and a small box of records.  Here in the states, if you go into a shop and it has a small box of records, it's usually not worth even looking in - they tend to be dusty cast-offs with broken covers and scratched vinyl, something the store-owner's neighbor pulled out of their attic or something.  I've seen water damaged, broken, scratched, coverless records for sale for five bucks, right?

Not here.  These records were all in pristine shape - flawless, glossy vinyl from the 70s.  We found two great singles here, one of which is by a band called Yoyi.  The single is "Bananas."  The B-side is a song called Copacabana, but it's not the Barry Manilow song, it's their own psychedelic Cuban funk song.

Bananas:

The cover is what sold us on the record, but the music keeps bringing me back for more.

More vacation finds

In Lagos, Portugal we happened on a shop selling CDs and DVDs, and discovered they had a couple boxes of records, too.  The LPs were all 5 Euros per disc, and the singles were all 1 Euro, so we bought five singles, mostly based on the cover art or the name of the band or the songs.  My favorite find out of this group was from a funk band called Fresh Meat, with their single "Hobo."  I just love the word 'hobo,' so how could I resist, right?

It's a catchy funk song from the 70s, but I don't think it was very popular.

I was on vacation

Record store shopping in other countries is just as fun as it is here.  In some ways, more so!

Whenever I go to a new place, I try to find a record store.  Once I'm there, I try to find a record or single on vinyl from a local band.  This isn't always easy, but most record stores have a "Locals" section of their inventory, and I'll just browse through that until I find something that looks like it might be good or interesting or at least in a genre that I enjoy.

In Seville, Spain, my daughter and I went to a couple of record stores, and bought one full album and three singles, all of Spanish bands.

The full album was the first Cerebros Exprimidos album, "Mas Suicidas," which promised to be a punk/hard-core album by a band in Seville.  It turns out they're actually from the island of Majorca, but maybe they live in Seville now.  Not sure.

Here's a song from the album, with a great image of their album cover.

I'll post more links to other record finds soon - we picked up 10 or 11 records on our trip through Spain and Portugal, but I haven't heard them all yet.