On My Own - You are Mine

I am hella possessive of this song. And I am hella from southern California saying hella which is a blasphemy depending on who you ask. Or I'm just hella cool cause I'm defying the society regional norm. I grew up listening to Les Miserables like a good little thespian child. I related to the tragic abandonment of Cosette in her sweetly sung "Castle on a Cloud" and only later related to the strong desire to escape to an illusive place built on ether that felt beautiful and safe. I had a mother, and was and am still grateful for that (She is a wonderful person too, we are hella tight) but nonetheless, at a very young age, I realized this important character's plight, her pain and her good fortune being whisked away from abuse by a strong, compassionate father-figure. Maybe that is where the interest came in for me, being rescued by a dad, because mine left.
So having divulged a full psych-bio to you parelled by the musical interpretation of Victor Hugo's masterpiece (which I have not read, have you seen how lengthy that shit is?!) I will get on with my point, like a stubborn donkey.
Eponine is the greatest character that ever lived. She is the little girl in the red coat in Schindler's list. She is the Crimson Rose Atrophaneur Hector, the most beautiful birdwinged butterfly, that's lifetime only spans a meager 72 hours. Like the milliondollar bouquet of flowers, your life and mine, a perfect sandcastle, and oh my god how I want to grab hold and squeeze it so it's mine. But to do so clearly would ruin everything (how can you grab/own a sunset?? you can Instagram it!!!!). The most beautiful thing of all is always fleeting, so utterly temporary that before you truly absorb how fascinating it is, it's already dying. The play Les Miserbles is fucking fantastic. Every song, ever visual, is impactful and meaningful. But the part that makes it so brilliant to me is that they chose the most EPIC voice to be used in all of 3 songs. And then she dies right after. UHG!!
Before I begin to ramble on, I'll just say I have a really hard time allowing other people to have there own experiences. I have an equally hard time allowing people, the "general public" watch Les Miserables in a diluted half-assed fashion on screen. Film is wonderful, but this production has it's place, and that is on stage. I hate to think people can walk into this cultural blessing, and walk out not feeling the weight I've felt, the lump in the back of your throat, a face cleansed with tears, and a gratitude to have not lived in 18th century, stinky France. I'm sure it will be well done, and I know it is just my selfish, possessiveness that cannot let the exclusivity of Broadway go. I have always been the only freak singing to myself I Dreamed a Dream, and then freaking Susan Boyle came along and started to tear down my fort. We work hard defending that which makes us odd, only to have it not be so odd anymore.
I cannot find the MP3 I want to play for you. So please, for me, next time you see something beautiful don't steal it by taking a picture and posting it on facebook. Just be present to it, take it in, and let it go.

Pull It Off- Hot Chip

Hi. It's Friday. That means I am tired but driven by the excitement that I get to piddle about all day tomorrow. This energizes me, keeps me up at least past 10pm. I drive a lot, living in southern Caleeforniy-yah and braving the 405 twice a day I get a lot of personal time with NPR, with my perpetuating, at times, disturbing thoughts, and in today's case, my iPod. I write my own songs and play guitar so I wonder a lot what this means. Not in the sense so much of why I play and sing but more in the trivial pondering of what and how this might become something meaningful to someone else. This is the trouble with modern technology/communication. There is this hyper-awareness of the self, that isn't really the self, it is the self's imagined perception of the self, through someone else's eyes. I always try to figure out what I mean in the world by envisioning me through the eyes of another. I have this conversation with my friend Jen a lot. I know she gets it. It's really disturbing because the insane and ironic part of this is that although I pretend to know how others see me, it is still my brain just creating ideas and holograms. I will NEVER know how I look to you or anyone, ever. But for some reason this idea, that some one else's perception is more validating than my simply just being, has a strong hold on me. Maybe it's the movies that has done this to me. You aren't much unless someone is watching you, lusting after you, jealous of your pretty hair or your turtleneck. What the FACK does this have to do with Hot Chip- well I'll tell you. On my 405 schleppage at 5:37AM yesterday I got the feeling that Alexis Taylor doesn't spend so much time questioning what he means to other people, or whether or not his music is "pulling it off". I get the vibe that many of my favorite musicians just do what they do, and they keep on doing it, because they love it. They don't listen to those fuckers who told them they need to sing louder, their guitar skills were sub par or their sound wouldn't ever go viral. I admire this and those who are what they are and rock out accordingly. Please, to all of me beloved friends and musicians, artists or people wo play with instruments: don't alter what arises from your being for anyone. We need you the way you are. The world is drying out, give us something real.
Alexis sounds like a girl, but it's perfect. Hot Chip is important to me.
Hot Chip - Wrestlers MP3

Get Me In the Gut: M83

This song get's me in the gut... like when you stick your finger in your belly button and wiggle it around. There is something sad, despondent yet hopeful about it. It reminds me of losing your virginity sophomore year summer, catapulting your sense of self from a serene childlike awe into the wet of real life adulthood. It's so unpleasant but still you want more. Maybe that yearning is just the hope that next time it will be different, that this can't be what everyone is talking about. Is it too late to go back?
This feeling is a deep one because it is all too familiar. The hope that there is something greater out there for us, something lasting, the highest of highs, in another's kiss, a new tee shirt or a song. And everytime I go running to one or the other, eyes shut and hands groping, the only thing left in it's once bright place, is me.
Here is Midnight City - M83

Will Sing for Joy - Metric Inspired

I have been in a shitty place the last few weeks. I feel bad for my boyfriend because he is dating Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh. Better than dating Tigger I suppose. Nonetheless, I know he didn't sign up to court a big blue ass with a pin-on tail. Lucky for him, it has become evident to me that I am coming out of the clouds into a touch of breaking sunlight. How do I know this? I have been singing to myself again (I know this is cheesy bare with me!!). I really believe in my heart of hearts that many happy people sing to themselves. Not only is it a coping mechanism for when we are afraid, it is a form of expression that, for many, is necessary to blow off steam, communicate connection/love, and show gratitude or joy. I know it is for me.
On another note, sometimes my job gives me grief. I am in sales and grumpy old men and bitchy assistants don't always want to hear my pitch. My personality can be that of a turtle's in that loud noises and "threats" cause me to retract into myself and not want to come out. But alas, I keep showing up and doing my best. It is really easy to get down on myself at times, to think I am not "fit" for this position. It's not true, because I do a good job, but sometimes singing this one song helps me remember that I am not defined by what I do, that I don't have to give into expectations and that Emily Haines is the mu-flippin sip sap snap. I love Metric forever. Emily's lyrics are a source of wisdom and relief for me. She is amazing. This blog is apt to have over 1,004 posts about Metric so be expecting.
Metric - Twilight Galaxy MP3 
The lyrics are below. I find my self writing over and over again on my little yellow legal pad at work "I don't know bout you, who were they talking to? They're not talking to me." And wouldn't you know in the chorus she says "Keep singing along" :) Oh Emily, you know I will. And I see glitter in the gutter every day.
(Please pardon this geeky and even cliche post. Gleekche is necessary some weekends.)

Twilight Galaxy

Did they tell you, you should grow up

When you wanted to dream.

Did they warn you, better shape up

If you want to succeed

I don't know about you, who are they talking to?

They aren't talking to me.

I'm higher than high

Lower than deep,

I'm doing it wrong

And singing along

Go higher than high, lower than deep

Keep doing it wrong and singing along

Did I ask you for attention

When affection is what I need

Thinking sorrow is perfection,

I'd wallow 'til you told me
There's no glitter in the gutter,

There's no twilight galaxy.

I'm alright, c'mon baby

I've seen all the demons that you've got.

If you're not alright, now c'mon baby

I'll pick you up and take you where you want

Anywhere you want

Anywhere you want

Anywhere you want

Anything you want

Jill Barber - Vocal Satisfaction

Just a quick post this evening. I've been in love with singer-songwriter Jill Barber and her amazing voice for a couple years now. Interestingly enough, I only had one of her songs that I'd ever heard but obsessed over the whole while, and still do. It's one of those jams you play on repeat and sing obnoxiously in your car clapping with your best emo-geek face on. I wonder if others find it as Flipping Awesome as I do. I really love this song.... Find it below.
Please enjoy her voice I may never know how to describe... it's almost Eartha-Kitt-meets-Dolly-Parton in sound and something prolific and perfect in lyrics. Now that I have finally downloaded more than one of her tunes, I see the complicated and thoughtful, articulate artist that she is, much led by emotion and her broken heart, but still practical and sensible. She's done lounge singer, she's done folkish country and even experimented with a sort of easter European sound in her song Measures & Scales and I appreciate all of it. I hope Jill approves of this message. :) Love you girl.

Jill Barber - Hard Line MP3

Nutcracker in September - Tchaikovsky and Firework at Hollywood Bowl

The Hollywood Bowl is amazing. I experienced it for my first time last Saturday with my beloved boyfriend and a Whole Foods custom crafted sandwich. You can bring your own food if you didn't know, and wine or any other sultry beverage if that's your bag. "Picnicking" they call it. I call it a steal.
The show was titled Tchaikovsky Spectacular with Fireworks! led by conductor Bramwell Tovey featuring the LA Philharmonic. Sounds a tad stuffy with someone named "Bramwell" leading the whole shabang but I assure you it was anything but. Bramwell was my favorite part. I fought the tears at the end with 1812 Overture and fucking fantastic fireworks spewing from behind the Bowl. Just before the whole thing exploded at the end, the USC Trojans "slipped on" (Bramwell's much applauded verbatim introduction, not mine) and blew the audience away.
I don't know if you remember at the end of V for Vendetta when V blows up British Parlement, the city's PA System is playing "1812 Overture". It's pure power, which is what the Russians needed after defeating offender Napoleon Bonaparte and his intrusive Grande Armee. Oh the French.
Berliner Philharmonic - "1812 Overture" MP3   (with Vocals)
I was a bit bored/peeved at the beginning, when the symphony performed music from the Nutcracker. I hate when Halloween garb hits drug store shelves September 1, how the Starbucks red cups come earlier and earlier each year and ESPECIALLY hearing Christmas music before December 1. It messes me up emotionally. It woud be like putting a heat lamp in a hibernating bear's den in Jthe dead of winter. You'd probably murder him with confusion. I need the time to be right, no cheating the Season's highs.
So Good tidings to you, I'll see you in December wearing short-shorts and zinc oxide on my nose, fucking Nutcracker in September, who does that?
Honestly is was a blast, literally and figuratively and I would do it again for certain.

Hollywood Bowl's Professional Photo of the affair:

My low-res iPhone foto (still rad!):

<3 ANR

Damn Straight You Can Listen Greedy

Just as you can ride dirty, be pretty ugly and eat jumbo shrimp, you can be a greedy listener. It may not be a blaring oxymoron however one  generally conjoins Greed=Aggressive and Listener=Passive so there inlies the oxymoronic tendency. The reason this blog is called The Greedy Listener is because in my past life, I listened to music for a sense of identity, for my ego. I wanted to be the tits when it came to knowing new songs, bands and upcoming shows. I wanted to have every tee-shirt, seen ever big band "before they were big" and make you think I was really fucking awesome because of it. I hated when Target used a Starfucker song on there commercial way more than you did. One time I confused Pennywise for Millencollin in front of a boy I liked and I hid out for a week. I was a full-blown, ego-driven, self-serving music snob lacking a true identity and and sense of humility. Today that is different.
Trouble is, since I had a nice feeding on humble dookie pie, I lost my drive to uncover the best of the best new/current/forgotten bands and artists. I want some of that desire to come back. In all honesty, my yearning to blog about music was sparked today after reading an old Twitter post that read "Cribs at Bimbo's tonight with Jemina Pearl, fun fun." I then wished I had logged every show I had seen at that time in my life. I was wild, inebriated and even despicable at times but still there is something sad and sweet about this young girl and her tenacity to discover others' auditory achievements. I have empathy for her today.
For the woman in front of you now, (yes I am a 26 yr old woman. Does that ruin your image of a hip, bearded man in plaid? Sorry) an undeniable passion for sound vibrates inside her stomach. She cries at the end of Don McLean's "American Pie" and throughout Van Morrison's entire "Into the Mystic". She knows beauty as well as sadness (the 2 go together) and wants you to know that same bitter-sweet pit in your gut.
I love writing, I love music. And now that I am no longer a stay-at-home asshole, I can truly listen, assess and express. I want to give back to the music industry but also regain a touch of the "cool" tag as well. Hope I can be consistent and introduce you to something special that tells you more about who you are and helps you know you are alive. Because that's what music does for us, both in the making and in the enjoying.
-ANR