Surely it must mean that this is going to be a great day when a warm breeze comes through the window, blowing my hair and waking me up. It's an unexpected pleasure on a November morning.
It gets even better when I open my front door to get my Washington Post and discover next to it a gift: a mixtape (okay, a CD, but I will always use that term to mean a hand-selected compilation) slipped through my mail slot while I was asleep. Some guys sure know how to impress a girl first thing in the morning.
Out walking on Grace Street, a guy comes out of the VCU library annex and does a full body scan. "These college girls got nothing on you," he says, smiling like he knows me. Note to self: wearing shorts on a November morning seems to be a sure-fire way to get complimented.
This day just keeps getting better.
Love is a mixtape~ Rob Sheffield
I am not in love, but I am open to persuasion~ Joan Armatrading
Showing posts with label mixtapes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mixtapes. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Going for Guilty Pleasures
Sometimes doing research in your area of interest seems like a guilty pleasure. Should you really feel that way? If you like something and want to know more about it, it's as worthy a use of your time as anything else.
There, in that one day Gemini horoscope, is the rationalization for my entire life, or at least for me following my curiosity wherever it takes me. So after a morning of writing up my interview with non-jam band Railroad Earth, here, I was free to satisfy my curiosity at Studio 23 Gallery, recently moved from Plant Zero to Main Street and with, what else, music (well, sort of).
Their new studio is bigger and better than the old digs; the coolest part is that it boasts a blackboard to-do list on the inside of the front door. There's a way to keep an artist's chore list in plain sight.
I was meeting some guys to check out Studio 23's third annual show of art inspired by the mixtape, "Mixtape 3-D." I actually had a mix tape in the first show back in 2008, but this new show was more about the case than the music.
In fact, only three of the pieces even had playlists, which was a surprise to all three of us (and both of them had participated in the 2008 show, too, so they knew from mixtapes).
One that did was two sided, consisting of "Songs to Drink By" (naturally Tom Waits was on there) and "Songs to Recover By," containing the most random song on any mixtape made this century, "Brandi (You're a Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass. It actually made my jaw drop in amazement when I saw it.
Another mixtape was directed at how to be hipster, with a playlist of all the indie favorites (Mumford and Sons, Temper Trap, et al) as well as a list of rules for hipster compliance.
Most rang true (don't bathe often; ride your bike everywhere), but I'd be inclined to take issue with the one stipulating that hipsters never dance because they're too cool. Has this guy been to a dance party at 534 or the Nile? Hell, even Ipanema's big anniversary bash was full of dancing hipsters.
Probably my favorite piece was the cross section of the tape case with the actual tape pulled out and arranged above and below in a most artistic manner. Another one was opened up and painted to look like a bronze sculpture.
Some submissions were less literal, not even employing the case or tape. All were clearly made by true fans of the art form.
But being a Gemini, I really wish I knew what music was playing in their heads while they created their masterpieces.
There, in that one day Gemini horoscope, is the rationalization for my entire life, or at least for me following my curiosity wherever it takes me. So after a morning of writing up my interview with non-jam band Railroad Earth, here, I was free to satisfy my curiosity at Studio 23 Gallery, recently moved from Plant Zero to Main Street and with, what else, music (well, sort of).
Their new studio is bigger and better than the old digs; the coolest part is that it boasts a blackboard to-do list on the inside of the front door. There's a way to keep an artist's chore list in plain sight.
I was meeting some guys to check out Studio 23's third annual show of art inspired by the mixtape, "Mixtape 3-D." I actually had a mix tape in the first show back in 2008, but this new show was more about the case than the music.
In fact, only three of the pieces even had playlists, which was a surprise to all three of us (and both of them had participated in the 2008 show, too, so they knew from mixtapes).
One that did was two sided, consisting of "Songs to Drink By" (naturally Tom Waits was on there) and "Songs to Recover By," containing the most random song on any mixtape made this century, "Brandi (You're a Fine Girl)" by Looking Glass. It actually made my jaw drop in amazement when I saw it.
Another mixtape was directed at how to be hipster, with a playlist of all the indie favorites (Mumford and Sons, Temper Trap, et al) as well as a list of rules for hipster compliance.
Most rang true (don't bathe often; ride your bike everywhere), but I'd be inclined to take issue with the one stipulating that hipsters never dance because they're too cool. Has this guy been to a dance party at 534 or the Nile? Hell, even Ipanema's big anniversary bash was full of dancing hipsters.
Probably my favorite piece was the cross section of the tape case with the actual tape pulled out and arranged above and below in a most artistic manner. Another one was opened up and painted to look like a bronze sculpture.
Some submissions were less literal, not even employing the case or tape. All were clearly made by true fans of the art form.
But being a Gemini, I really wish I knew what music was playing in their heads while they created their masterpieces.
Friday, December 18, 2009
The Mixtape Master
Back in the 90s, I met and befriended a local club DJ, whose skill at mixing music was awe-inspiring.
He didn't have a car, so he'd ride his bike to gigs with a crate of records bungee-corded on the back of it.
He was a music junkie, always going back to DC to score new and obscure stuff he couldn't find in rva. Needless to say, I don't often meet someone as rabid about music as I am, so I wanted to know him better.
After seeing him for several weeks at one place or another, he suggested we meet up at the Virginia Museum on a Thursday night since that's when the museum stayed open in the evening.
As it turned out, I had to stay late at the radio station where I worked and missed meeting him.
I didn't even have a way to contact him to let him know I couldn't make it. What I didn't know at the time was that he'd made me a mixtape he'd intended to give me that night.
It was a masterpiece entitled "Naive Melodies/Waiting" and the title referred to his anticipation of our first outing together.
Full of classic 80s and early 90s indie pop, it was superbly chosen and mixed.
By the time we rescheduled our outing, he'd made me a second mixtape, this one called, "STOOD UP!" and full of jittery and angry music.
I got the message.
Other mixtapes followed, with names like "A Cup of Coffee and a Slice of Time" and "Groovy Tunes," which had one side of "Harmless Pop" and another of "Popless Harm."
One called "Delusions of Grandeur" didn't even list song titles or artists, just the instructions to listen and enjoy because titles were irrelevant.
I listened to those mixtapes for years because they were so well done. It got to the point where I could anticipate the next song because I knew the tape so well.
Finally I realized that I was going to wear out the tape itself and enlisted a friend to put them on CD for me so I could enjoy them in perpetuity.
My friend and I eventually lost touch, although I occasionally heard him on a late-night shift on several local commercial radio stations.
Not long after I'd heard he'd moved back to DC, he showed up weekly on WRIR doing Monday's Breakfast Blend.
What a treat! It's almost like having a new mixtape made for me every week because our tastes are so similar and I'm just so fond of his musical selections.
I listen when I'm up early enough, but I always make a point to look at his playlist for sentimental reasons.
Invariably, I see song after song from one of my many mixtapes that are still making it on to his show: the B52's "Follow Your Bliss," The Posies' "Mrs. Green," Marshall Crenshaw's "Cynical Girl" and anything by Paul Weller.
There's also plenty of new stuff which I'm also listening to, but it's these mixtape reminders that give me a retro thrill.
Over the years, no less than a dozen friends have made mixtapes for me; some were terrific and some were nice gestures, but uninspired.
Creating a really good mixtape is more difficult than it sounds and yet, I've still got this guy's collection of 1993/94 mixtapes in regular rotation.
No one but a mixtape master can inspire that kind of long-term musical devotion.
He didn't have a car, so he'd ride his bike to gigs with a crate of records bungee-corded on the back of it.
He was a music junkie, always going back to DC to score new and obscure stuff he couldn't find in rva. Needless to say, I don't often meet someone as rabid about music as I am, so I wanted to know him better.
After seeing him for several weeks at one place or another, he suggested we meet up at the Virginia Museum on a Thursday night since that's when the museum stayed open in the evening.
As it turned out, I had to stay late at the radio station where I worked and missed meeting him.
I didn't even have a way to contact him to let him know I couldn't make it. What I didn't know at the time was that he'd made me a mixtape he'd intended to give me that night.
It was a masterpiece entitled "Naive Melodies/Waiting" and the title referred to his anticipation of our first outing together.
Full of classic 80s and early 90s indie pop, it was superbly chosen and mixed.
By the time we rescheduled our outing, he'd made me a second mixtape, this one called, "STOOD UP!" and full of jittery and angry music.
I got the message.
Other mixtapes followed, with names like "A Cup of Coffee and a Slice of Time" and "Groovy Tunes," which had one side of "Harmless Pop" and another of "Popless Harm."
One called "Delusions of Grandeur" didn't even list song titles or artists, just the instructions to listen and enjoy because titles were irrelevant.
I listened to those mixtapes for years because they were so well done. It got to the point where I could anticipate the next song because I knew the tape so well.
Finally I realized that I was going to wear out the tape itself and enlisted a friend to put them on CD for me so I could enjoy them in perpetuity.
My friend and I eventually lost touch, although I occasionally heard him on a late-night shift on several local commercial radio stations.
Not long after I'd heard he'd moved back to DC, he showed up weekly on WRIR doing Monday's Breakfast Blend.
What a treat! It's almost like having a new mixtape made for me every week because our tastes are so similar and I'm just so fond of his musical selections.
I listen when I'm up early enough, but I always make a point to look at his playlist for sentimental reasons.
Invariably, I see song after song from one of my many mixtapes that are still making it on to his show: the B52's "Follow Your Bliss," The Posies' "Mrs. Green," Marshall Crenshaw's "Cynical Girl" and anything by Paul Weller.
There's also plenty of new stuff which I'm also listening to, but it's these mixtape reminders that give me a retro thrill.
Over the years, no less than a dozen friends have made mixtapes for me; some were terrific and some were nice gestures, but uninspired.
Creating a really good mixtape is more difficult than it sounds and yet, I've still got this guy's collection of 1993/94 mixtapes in regular rotation.
No one but a mixtape master can inspire that kind of long-term musical devotion.
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