food, drink, monkeys, and beats from the dairy air of mondovi, wisconsin, the streets of minneapolis, and the sands of bondi beach, australia
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AIM is pntyrdr1 Email Seppo: kris dot sipe at gmail dot com
EAT ME!!!
Beef Bourguignon
Bitchin' Baked Paella Risotto Magic Stuffed Salmon Chicken Wild Rice Soup Chili Prawn Penne 3 2 1 Spatchcock! Tomato Basil Fettuccine Chili Con Seppo Blueberry Boat Roast Marinated Buffalo Mozzerella Grilled Swordfish with Mango Salsa Miss. Highco's Creme Brulee
ON THE IPOD...
Sufjan Stevens - Come on Feel the Illinois
Tegan and Sara - So Jealous The Hold Steady - Separation Sunday
Nickel Creek - Why Should the Fire Die
FOR THE BOOKCLUB...
PREVIOUSLY ON...
Survival of the Unfittest
Muffin Top A Fly in your Chardonnay Eat Your Heart out Thoreau The Rumours of My Demise... Last Time on the OE Plug Away I'm a Rockstar... Pitchin' a Tent at Camp Cove Chunky Monkey
WHEN?
WHERE?
blogger all music guide college music journal internet movie database slayage urband legends archive tripple j all zone 4 dvd grimsey records britneyfreak Blogger Boobiethon Starlight Foundation Sydney Morning Herald Apple Torrentspy MacRumors
Favs, Fads and Friends
Gideon's Bible Whatevs Stereogum Rollertrain Lou's Page of... Memoirs from the Edge RADhole Thighs Wide Shut Cityrag Goldenfiddle 1115 That Ashley Girl President Peabs PhotoSydney Ms. Fits Drew's Blog-O-Rama Sarah's So Boring SynapticBlur BakedZiti Daily Refill Jeffrey Mimi Emancipated NY Hotlist sdrawkcab sti Pink = New Blog Brave World NYC You Aint No Picasso Berkeley Palace Fluxblog My Dad at Vinifera Minnesota
CREDITS:
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Wednesday, April 20, 2005
![]() I don't think I fit in to... His Indie World part 1 ![]() When I worked as a cook in my teens, at The Dock, in Stillwater, Minnesota, the music I knew was played by the Anthony Bourdainesque sociopaths, Toyota truck driving lesbians and aging hippies I was surrounded by. The strange thirtiesh couple who worked in the prep area loved The B-52s. Ms. Patty the Pastry Chef's son was photographer Daniel Corrigan, who gave me personalized, autographed photos of Husker Du, The Replacements and Soul Asylum. Tom H. Gardner III, a recovering alcoholic writer, obsessed with Hemingway, Soldier of Fortune and the Grateful Dead, taught me to love The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Medeski, Martin and Wood, and all of the folk music on local Red House Records. Dada the Lebanese dope head was into George Clinton and James Brown, as well as the Pixies, and Porno for Pyros. Nick and Jeff on the front line were my own age, but definitely old souls. I never gave Jeff back all of those Uncle Tupelo albums, I hope he doesn't miss them (I know I would if someone took them from me). I'll never forget cleaning squid the first time I heard Smells Like Teen Spirit. ![]() Every time I ever felt unloved or alone, I had the library that all of these influences had helped me create, to keep me company. Now that I am all the way over here in Sydney, living in Bondi, where record stores receive daily truckloads of Chill Out compilations, and Ministry of Sound Annuals, I don't have the same types of influences in my life as I did back in the states. For my first couple of years in Oz, I was really down in the dumps about the whole thing. I didn't get to the point of groovin' to Blink 182, or making out to John Mayer, but I did miss out on some really good shit. In the last couple of years things have definitely shifted. Thanks to blogs like Stereogum and Ultragrrrl, sources like College Music Journal, and online radio stations such as Indiepoprocks!, when I've got the Powerbook in bed at home, I feel like I'm back in St. Paul, wading through the new Vinyl releases at Applause. Shore suggests in the article mentioned above that an Indie Yuppie Establishment has been created, and that record companies are producing "fancy-coffee-drinking, Volvo-riding music for kids." I have found the last few years to be a return to a rock-and-roll mentality, producing so many innovative and thought provoking records, that a 20GB ipod can't begin to hold them. The fact there is more mainstream exposure to indie music, and a larger demographic of hipsters, is only a product of technology and communication. The phenomenon is discussed in New York Times Columnist Thomas L. Friedman's book, The World is Flat, at an extensive level. While his book refers to the progress of the pursuits of education, the phenomenon can easily be extended to music. No longer do intellectually motivated kids need to swap cassette tapes between classes. Now, Betsy from Wisconsin can get on AOL Instant Messenger and explain the merits of the new Lamb of God Lp, while her friend Pedro in Tennessee tells her how he wants to be a roadie for Calexico. ![]() The irony of the article lies in the fact that Shore's label hosts indie darlings of the moment, Bloc Party, who could easily be added to the list of bands he criticizes. Their album is the first, in my opinion, of the new wave revival to add something new to the mix, especially with their anti-establishment lyrics. I wonder if the band is actually speaking to Shore when they sing, "You're just as boring as everyone else... Why'd you have to get so hysterical?Success, success, success is over... Why'd you have to get so fucking useless... Play it cool boy" Part II - Indie Music and Hollywood next week
... Seppo 2:47 pm...
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