There are many wonderful artists out there. I discover at least two or three a week. They can be visual, literary, or musical. I especially love the musical one. I am finding new bands all. the. time.

Here are a few I like this week. It’s a pretty representative sample except they are all girls. That part is not on purpose.

Guitar virtuoso Kaki King:

Avant-garde indie musician St Vincent:

My wonderful, weird, Leslie Hall:

Ok! I know Leslie Hall is strange but I love her. She is just my kind of strange. She’s from Iowa. She came to Internet fame with her Gem Sweater Collection. The natural follow up to that? Record a hop-hop album of course. I don’t know why, but I love it. If you agree, here’s the remix.

Happy Valentine’s Day! Today I woke up to roses on the dining room table. Awesome!

This is Not About Love by Fiona Apple (featuring Zach Galifianakis).

UPDATE: video gone because Sony owns Fiona Apple’s soul.

For our fifth anniversary, Kyle and I spent the night in San Francisco so that we could go to French restaurant Fleur de Lys and then to the opera. Neither of us had had a meal quite that fancy in a restaurant owned by a chef who is on TV a lot before, and I had only been to one opera a long time ago, and have been wanting to go again to see if I like it.

We were the first people at Fleur de Lys. Normally this would bother me, but I knew the place would be filling up quickly, so I decided to enjoy having five or six waiters focusing just on me for the time being. The restaurant is decorated so that it’s like you are in a tent from Arabian Nights, with drapery gathered at a point in the center of the ceiling. We sat in the middle of a room by a big vase of flowers. Our waiter was not stuck up. The music was kind of New Age-y, but I didn’t really mind.

As the evening went on, I was glad Kyle insisted on wearing his suit to dinner. We were easily the youngest people in the place, and everyone was wearing evening clothes and even fur jackets. The opera was the same way, so if we hadn’t dressed up as much as we did, I would have felt uncomfortable. As it was, I felt like I fit right in.

We got the four-course meal with wine pairing. That is: One appetizer, one half-fish course, one half-meat course, and a dessert. We had:

• Amuse Bouche: Pureed eggplant topped with a roasted parsley cream–smooth and cold, a good palate cleanser
• Amuse Bouche 2: A creamy cold soup served in an eggshell that had been hollowed out and dipped in poppy seeds. You sipped the soup with a straw. I loved the presentation.

Appetizer:


• Me: Foie gras two ways. One, the foie gras was cut up in a tiny casserole dish with shitake mushrooms and fingerling potatoes. It was delicious. The other way was a little “burger” of seared duck and foie gras on a brioche bun. The bun overpowered the foie gras–in fact, all I tasted was bun. It was not very good, and I didn’t finish it. However, the other was so good, and I appreciated the presentation of both so much, that it didn’t bother me.
• Kyle: Chops and saddle of rabbit with a bean salad. As usual, Kyle picked better and had the most delicious combination of fresh beans–possibly edamame–in an incredible sauce, topped with rabbit medallions. On the side were tiny rabbit chops in a reduction sauce beside a corn flan that melted in your mouth with creaminess. Score one for Kyle.

Fish:


• Me: A single scallop crusted in hazelnuts, sitting on a bed of spinach. It was surrounded with pear tomatoes and tiny, amazing, truffle gnocchi. Wonderful. The textures in particular were complimentary–crunchy nuts, smooth scallop and spinach, etc. But my favorite was the gnocchi. They made the dish for me.
• Kyle: Something to do with salmon and pistachio nuts. His wine was a nice buttery chardonnay that I was envious of.

Meat:


• Me: Filet mignon with endives, oven-roasted pears, and a turnip gratin, all in a wine reduction sauce with pecans. I was in a very traditional mood. The meat was perfect, and the sauce was incredible, especially with the pecans. The white thing that was supposed to be a pear horrified me for awhile. I kept tasting it, wondering what they did to that pear to make it so bitter. Was it black pepper? Then I realized it was the endive, and it all slid into place in my mind. I don’t know where the pear was–maybe in the orange turnip gratin thing on the edge of my plate, which tasted too much like sharp cheddar cheese, and interrupted the flow of the dish for me.
• Kyle: Buffalo in a port reduction sauce. Very delicious. His sauce was slightly better, I think. But he didn’t have pecans.

Dessert:


• Me: Fresh Berry French-word-that-starts-with-a-G. I was served a plate that looked like a tiny funhouse of shapes and colors. There was a triangular coconut popsicle, a tube of pineapple custard topped with a raspberry, a dollop of chocolate mousse, a flat pastry covered with berries and the most amazing whip cream. (I always say you can tell a restaurant by the quality of their bread and their whip cream). It was so much fun and every bit of it was delicious.
• Kyle: Gran Marnier soufflé. Yeah, well, okay, but did he get a coconut popsicle?

By the time we ate all this, we were getting late to the opera. We hurried outside and found there was another couple waiting for a cab. I was getting nervous because if you are late to the opera, they don’t let you in, and it’s hard to get a cab in San Francisco. But then it turned out that the other couple was going to the opera too, so they let us ride along with them in their limo. I had never been in a limo before! It is a very long car.

We saw Don Giovanni by San Francisco Opera. I was excited for a chance to use my opera glasses, but they were unnecessary because they have screens that let you see everything happening on stage. I found that while I don’t like listening to most opera music, I like seeing it performed. It is, after all, meant to tell a story with actors, and it is far more interesting when you are following along with that story.

But while listening to people sing Mozart is wonderful, the plot of Don Giovanni? Pretty darn bad. It rambles and leaves loose ends and throws in a ghost at the end for lack of a better way to wrap things up. Who am I to criticize what some have called the most perfect opera ever? A cheeky young thing. Go to the opera and see for yourself.

I’ve been wanting to see Flogging Molly live for a long time, so on Saturday, we went to the Oyster and Beer Fest in San Francisco. The cost for admissions for a full day of music was a reasonable $15, so I was expecting the other shoe to drop–hidden parking fees or super long lines or something like that. But while there were fees and lines–especially to get beer–it wasn’t bad at all. The festival took place on a green lawn overlooking the bay and the Golden Gate Bridge. It was a lovely day. People seemed in a good mood. The price for food and drink wasn’t bad, considering. And yes, there were lines, but we got to skip the major one because we bought our tickets ahead, so I didn’t mind.

We met up with Robin, who was hanging out with his co-workers, and Rachel, who was hanging out with her friend Lindsay. We spread a blanket under a palm tree and waited for Flogging Molly to come on. That band is awesome live. Of the three concerts I’ve been to lately, they were the most fun. I was able to get right down by the stage while they played, although my pictures of the band aren’t that great. By the end, we were all dancing jigs by the palm tree.

I got a lot of good pictures that day. Here are a few:

The crowd by the stage listening to a rollicking song. San Franciscans can be so reserved.

Robin, with a beer in his pocket

Random girl in red

Kyle and Rachel talk

This guy had attitude

Robin and his friends cheering Flogging Molly’s finale

I will start talking about my writing life on here again presently. In the meantime, here’s some Flogging Molly.

Update: Marcia wrote about the festival too.

Last night I went to Modest Mouse at SJSU’s Event Center. I liked it a lot. They are a good band, man. Marcia wrote about it here, and I concur. I would also add that Modest Mouse is one of those bands that is better on CD than in person, but they are still worth seeing live.

I am listening to new albums right now. Here’s some mini-reviews:

Bright Eyes — Cassadaga– My problem with Conor Oberst is that he tends to be melodramatic. When he’s not melodramatic, I like him. On this album, he’s exploring new age-y stuff like psychics and energies and other things that make me barf, so you would think I would hate it. But I don’t. It’s a good album. Everything on it is broad and ladened, from the long poems disguised as lyrics to the layerings of many musical instruments. Still, the melodies are fully formed, and although Oberst is treading on much-treaded territory, his spin on it is somehow fresh, and sad without being maudlin (for once).

Tori Amos — American Doll Posse– I haven’t liked Tori’s last few albums. This album is better–no songs about her daughter running with ribbons flying and women carrying parasols this time around. She even gets a little early-Patti-Smith-sounding in parts. Still, this album bores me. I turn it on expecting to listen to it, forget about it, and next thing I know, it’s over. Oh Tori. I think the adorable weirdo is gone forever. (This interview reminded me why I loved Tori Amos when she first came out.)

Arctic Monkeys — Favourite Worst Nightmare — Wow! I was so surprised by how good this album is. It’s tougher, harder, and more varied than their first album, Whatever People Say I Am, That’s What I’m Not. It significantly raised this band’s esteem in my mind. It’s good rock and makes you want to move.

Bjork — Volta – At some point, Bjork became too esoteric for me and I didn’t get her anymore. So I was happy to see her coming back to earth in Volta, especially in songs like Earth Invaders and Declare Independence. She’s still exploring cool sounds and beats, but in a way that holds together as something that can be called a song. This album is more focused on the outside–the audience, the world, whatever–and less on Bjork’s own inner realms, and that makes all the difference in how much more enjoyable it is to listen to.

Willy Mason — If the Ocean Gets Rough – There’s something I like about Willy Mason. Maybe it’s his voice, which sounds more mature and deep than his age (23?). Maybe it’s that his songs seem to get at an authentic emotional landscape that most folk songs pretend to get at, but don’t. I don’t think this album is perfect–I don’t like the plunking keyboard in “I Can’t Sleep,” I find “Save Myself” repetitive, etc.–but there’s just something I really like about it anyway.

Amy Winehouse — Back To Black – From everything I can tell by the gossip magazines, Amy Winehouse is a Peter-Doherty-style mess, but at least she can really sing. I love the retro soul-singer sound of this album, and I love Winehouse’s deep voice, the kind of voice that fills the breadth of sound waves to bursting. Not all the songs are good–some are so bad they feel like filler (If My Man Were Fighting an Unholy War? Huh?) and others are over-produced–but she effortlessly brings a sense of style and soul to the better songs.

I could go on, but I won’t. Let me know if you agree or not.

For awhile, everyone told me I would like The Decemberists. Even articles describing the band’s audience described, um, me: a former English major, someone from Portland, someone who likes stories and indie rock. But when I tried the band out, I didn’t like them at first. Every song seemed to be a guy singing along to acoustic guitar, which contrary to popular belief is not the kind of music I like.

But then last year, I heard their most recent album, “The Crane Wife.” It won me over. I liked the album so much, last Wednesday I dragged Kyle to see them at The Warfield in San Francisco.

The Decemberists sound every bit as good live as they do on their CDs. In fact, the slower songs may even have more energy live. Or maybe it’s that their songs make more sense when you see them performed. By watching, you not only hear how intricate the songs are, you see it. The band is known for using lots of instruments, and there were quite a few on the stage–different keyboards/pianos, an upright bass, a melodica, an accordion, etc.–that the musicians switched around throughout the performance, bringing out layers to the songs that I hadn’t noticed before.

The band has good showmanship, too. For the Shankill Butchers–a song about a serial-killer butcher–lead singer Colin Meloy had the lights go all red to set the mood. At other times, the lights were aqua and with the rippling keyboards and guitar, the audience in the pit looked like underworld creatures looking up at the sun. The band also had audience participation for 16 Military Wives, but Meloy handled it so casually you didn’t feel like you were being coerced into a sing-along–a pet peeve of mine–and so it was fun when the entire audience alternated for the La-de-das for the song. At the end, one by one, the band members went into the audience, and a 12-year-old kid jumped up on the empty stage to play the drums and the guitar. The stagehand ran out as if to chase him off the stage, but instead tightened the kid’s the guitar strap, which got a laugh from the audience. After the kid sang a song and jumped off the stage, the band got back on and did their final numbers.

And here’s the thing: As much as I love music, part of me has a hard time sitting through a concert. This is true in everything from a symphony to my very favorite bands–something about sitting and listening to music makes me antsy. So this is one of few concerts I have ever been to that held my attention all the way through. I was entertained and impressed. If you like The Decemberists, go see them live.

Here’s When The War Came off The Crane Wife, which you can buy here.

I discovered the band Winterpills yesterday and I’m really into them right now. Not that that means that much. Sometimes I like a band immediately and then lose interest later on when the emotional reaction passes/I realize their faults. I hope this isn’t like that, but today, I can’t get enough of this song: Broken Arm by Winterpills.

I bought their new album too.

Last night, my friend Dan visited Kyle and I. Dan’s a musician. He’s one of the few people I know from high school who went on to do something with his life. However, I did learn about an interesting endeavor by a guy I knew back then, Jacob Morgan.

Jacob, who apparently works for the Disney Channel in Southern California, is in a band called Pilbilly Knights. It’s a raunchy faux-cowboy band headed by Todd Lowe, the guy who plays Zack on Gilmore Girls.

(Jacob is the guy on the left)

And as much as I disapprove of what the writers are doing to Lane, Zack’s wife on that show, (She’s pregnant with twins and her annoying mother is living with her and Zack? What about Lane’s dream of drumming in a band? Lame!) I think Pilbilly Knights is pretty dern cool. I mean, cowboys? Songs about DUIs and chai tea? Zack from the Gilmore Girls? All awesome.

Check out Pilbilly Knight’s myspace page.

Somehow it completely escaped my notice that an album of Johnny Cash’s last songs, Amercan V: A Hundred Highways, was released in 2006. Cash wrote and recorded the vocals shortly before he died, and the songs were finished by other musicians.

Usually, an album completed after a musician’s death is pretty bad. You can always tell things were done to the songs that the artist wouldn’t have done himself, he had lived. But I think this Johhny Cash album is an exception. The songs on this album are mature meditations on death and life, and are often really sad, but they have a restrained elegance to them. The arrangements are suitably subtle and drift more towards blues than country. I hope when I’m on death’s door, I’m still producing art that is as relevant and interesting, although really, I’ll just be grateful if it’s readable.

Anyway, I’m really digging this tack from the album, God’s Gonna Cut You Down. Listen Here.

I am really really enjoying this mash-up by dj BC of hip-hop and dixieland jazz. Louie Armstrong and Method Man? Dirty Dozen Brass Band and Old Dirty Bastard? How does that work? And yet it so does. Oh and did I mention that you can download the whole album for free?

(Uh, once upon a tme, this was going to be a lit blog. I wonder what happened to that.)