I never knew what a good time was till I had a good time with you

I have to say I was really excited a couple weeks ago when I saw someone on lala.com was sending me The Dead 60s by The Dead 60s. I'd read some stuff about them that proclaimed them to be the future of British rock (this was a couple months before the Arctic Monkeys were declared the future of British rock). Well if this is the future, it sounds a lot like the past.

The whole album reminds of something by The Clash, but without the anger. You know what The Clash would sound like without their anger? That's right, crap. Now, I don't think The Dead 60s are total crap, but I just kept thinking that I could be spending this time listening to actual Clash songs instead of sad imitations. It's more just a waste of time.

Coming over Waterloo, dreaming of your hands

My first album in the letter D is sort of an iTunes fluke. According to Mr. Amazon, myself and anyone with any sense, the title of today's album is Lost Songs. Somewhere along the way, though, someone in computer land decided that it's actually called David Gray Lost Songs, thus jumping it into the D's. Yes, it's nitpicky, but Mr. Gray should really learn to wait his turn.

Anyway, Lost Songs was released in 1999 on the tails of the hugely successful White Ladder. Suddenly, everything David Gray ever hummed was being burned onto a CD. This set of songs were recorded between 1995 and 1998 in the years after Gray had been dropped from a label for the second time. Needless to say, they're a little stark and sad.

The people on Amazon love this album, but I can't say I really agree. I knows me some sad and British and while this is decent I've seen sadder and Britisher. Many of the songs lack the strong melodies I love in all of David Gray's other stuff, so none of them really stick with me. I guess it would me more good coffee shop background music, but how much of that does the world need?

My heart beats faster than safe

I bought some Reds tickets a couple weeks ago in preparation for Josh and Harleigh's visit to Cincinnati ("The Kidneys of Rock and Roll") but so many things are conspiring against us. First, there is the weather. Earlier they said it would be all beautiful and nice but now the weather people say its gonna maybe rain. There's still time for that to change (again) but it's still bumming me out.

Then, there are the reality stars. Evidently there is a diabetes fundraiser this weekend that involves getting to hang out with reality television "stars." It ends with a trip to the Reds game on Saturday where for $20 one can sit in the bleachers with people like the Linz brothers from The Amazing Race or Coby from Survivor. My bleacher seats only cost $4, though, so I'm a much cheaper date.

As I'm willing to guess that I'm the only one who watches any reality TV, I'll be playing my own game of reality star bingo while sitting in the rain. This is gonna require a beer.

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How about another installment of New Music Monday? I'm proud to announce my discovery of the first sad and Swedish band. Yes, the country that has brought us incessantly perky groups like ABBA, Ace of Base and The Cardigans have finally produced a band with a mood to match their weather. And I love them.

I'm speaking of the Shout Out Louds and their 2005 album Howl Howl Gaff Gaff. Pay no attention to the title, it's an excellent album featuring sad love songs and pop sensibility. Those are pretty much my two favorite things. They toured in America a lot last summer and I'm kind of sad I missed them. Hopefully they'll come to the Midwest sometime so I can be sad and Swedish in person.

Tomorrow, on to the D albums!

Headlong into the irresistible orbit

I originally bought Cure For Pain by Morphine back when it came out in 1993. I'd heard "Buena" on 120 Minutes and liked their whole sound. Morphine is probably another of those one song bands, though. When you only have three members and they play drums, saxophone and a two-stringed bass repsectively, your sonic options are pretty limited.

Anyway, I actually just re-acquired this album a couple weeks ago, thanks to lala.com. A few years ago I swapped my two Morphine albums with a coworker for two albums by The Clash and a copy of Girl With Curious Hair by David Foster Wallace. I'm not sure either of us thought the trade would be permanent but when that coworker got fired, it did. So Charles, I hope you're enjoying those Morphine albums.

Why did you travel far abroad so you could sleep with strangers?

Declan's going back to his roots today with one of the last albums I have in the letter D. It's Cruel Smile by Elvis Costello and the Imposters and it's really one for the fans.

Cruel Smile is full of live tracks, outtakes and remixes. Those are usually the albums I buy out of a sense of obligation, listen to once and never touch again. This one has stuck with me, though. I'm not a huge fan of the live tracks (if you haven't picked up on it yet, I'm generally not a fan of live albums) but the remixes and outtakes are great to have if you're a Costello fan.

The album starts and end with different (and suitably cheeky) versions of a song written by Charlie Chaplin called "Smile." It's perhaps the most bizarre Costello recording since he wrote "Dip Your Big Toe in the Milk of Human Kindness" for a Disney movie. The alternate version of "When I Was Cruel" and "Peroxide Side," a great remix of "Episode of Blonde," are a couple highlights. Overall, it's nothing I would recommend to the casual listener but there are some treats in there for the avid fan.

Say good night to the last psychedelic band

I know I lose a lot of indie rock cred for saying this. I know I'm supposed to worship at the altar of Pavement, but I don't know what the big deal is. The lyrics are cool and it seems like they invented the literate, ironic lead singer that indie rock loves so much these days, but I don't like their music all that much. I listened to Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain again today and I'm still not feeling it.

"Cut you Hair" is still pretty awesome, though.

I wonder, do I want the simple, simple life that I once lived in so well?

Crash is the last of the Dave Matthews Band albums still left on Declan. Most everything else has been kicked off to make room for better music, but I just can't get rid of Crash, it's a big Nostalgia Train CD for me.

According to Mr. Amazon, Crash was released April 30, 1996, almost 10 years ago to the day. I was in college and it was the album that every college student owned. Everybody played it in their apartment. It was literally the soundtrack of my life for a year or two. I couldn't have avoided it if I wanted to.

Everybody is sick of the song "Crash" by now. It was on the radio constantly. I'm still a big fan of "Two Step" even if it took me about six months to figure out that the line was the very Yoda, "celebrate, we will" and not my preferred "celebrate, drool." Eh, it's Dave's loss.

So I think this might be my last hurrah for Crash. I'm going to need to make some room for new albums and it's just not something I listen to much these days. I'll be sure to bust it out the next time I want to think about college, though.

Without your tight little denim, your virtues would all go unknown

There are some bands that have one song. It's more pervasive than a "sound''or style, it just seems to be one song. Don't know what I'm talking about? Think of Everclear, Oasis or Tom Petty. Also, think of Cake.

Now, my take on bands with one song is easy. If you like the one song, you'll love the band and if you don't you won't. But after listening to Comfort Eagle by Cake I was faced with a third question. What if you like the song a little, but it starts to get on your nerves?

Cake is probably best known for their 1996 hit 'The Distance" and everything they've released pretty much sounds like that. I bought Fashion Nugget and enjoyed it, but it wasn't love. I don't know what compelled me to purchase their 2001 album Comfort Eagle, then. I knew I only loved them enough for one album. It was probably some CD club deal.

Comfort Eagle is catchy and it's pretty fun, but I just find myself getting tired of the one song. I'm capable of loving one song bands. I have many albums by Oasis and Everclear, I think I'm just tired of Cake's one song.

I made a lot of mistakes in my mind

Sufjan Stevens is a guy after my own heart. He's said he wants to make an album about each of the 50 states, but I don't think anybody really believes him. His first album was all about Michigan, but where do you from there? There's tons of great stuff to write about Michigan so everything else will pale in comparison - especially when your next state is Illinois. Right?

So just as millions thought I'd never make it past "B" on my iPod, Sufjan has made it to Come On Feel The Illinoise. Even if the album is terrible, it already wins best title of 2005.

Sufjan does take a little getting used to. He makes music for people who buy cast albums to musicals they've never seen and listen to indie rock. It's a small demographic, but probably not as small as people who buy cast albums and listen to gangsta rap.

The songs are elaborate and filled with twee backing vocals. I'll tell you, it didn't catch my fancy right away and this is from somebody who was instantly captivated by a girl who plays a harp and sings like an elf. I gave Illinois a cursory listen last fall and began to think maybe it wasn't for me. When I dialed it up on Declan today, though, I started to see the appeal. He has beautiful lyrics and the soft music can be lulling but isn't annoying. Believe me, there's a difference.

Sufjan also has the sweetest song ever about a serial killer and that beats any cast album any day (even Assassins).

Another day that I can't find my head

O.k., who here DOES NOT own Come Away With Me by Norah Jones? That's what I thought. I'm pretty sure this album came with everyone's 2002 tax returns. I can't remember buying it but I can remember driving all over Nevada County whilst listening to it. I am particularly reminded of Dog Bar Road for some reason.

It's good and I still like it but these days it seems a little soft rock than I remember it sounding back then. In 2002 it was suitably cool enough that Norah Jones didn't seem like the new Kenny G. These days I think the jury may be out.

Finally, a little trivia. Norah Jones' father is noted musician Ravi Shankar. Who is Ravi Shankar? Well, he taught George Harrison how to play the sitar and he's widely regarded for his skills on the instrument. Norah doesn't like to talk about him, though, because she never really knew him. So if you see her in a bar, it might be best to avoid sitar discussions. Just a tip for all you boys out there.