Tropic of Food Community Development Award

Ladies and Manfolk: my brother has learned of the internet. Please welcome him with open arms.

Musical History of Todd

1989: After seeing the video for "Rag Doll" by Aerosmith, buys Permenant Vacation. His life is changed.

1990: Probably buys Pump, Rocks and Toys in the Attic.

1991: I sure this is when he buys Night in the Ruts and Done with Mirrors. His life again changes.

1992: I don't quite remember how it worked but I think it went like this--I sell my Martin Stinger to Will Garriott and buy a Gibson SG, then sell the SG to Todd so I could buy the Jazz bass that is now in my closet. Then Todd decides he wants to play bass, so he trades the SG to Play it Again for a "Rickenbacker" bass, scooping Johnny Wyatt on the transaction by just minutes. Then Todd decides he doesn't want to play bass and trades the "Rickenbacker" to John for either a 12 string or a classical--I don't remember. At any rate, at this point, Todd has his first guitar. Also, buys Joe Perry Project's Let the Music Do the Talking.

Oh, like 1986, the piano lessons start. I should have started with that since it is Todd's primary instrument. Shit. Anyway:

1993: I give Todd all of my Bob Dylan, Neil Young and Pink Floyd CDs thinking, "Now that I listen to Husker Du I have no need of these relics of music." I am wrong. Todd scores. Life changes again.

1994: Goes to college for a while. Probably writes some dirty songs.

2006: Gets Myspace account and ENGAGED!

CONGRATULATIONS TODD! HOORAY!

In loving memory...

Sharin' the Jowl

There ain't a damn ting wrong with Sharin' the Jowl on a lost weekend.

Memoriez....part too

Memoriez.....

HOTEL MOTEL IS A DOVE

Tomorrow night, one of the finest bands to ever break-up will finally live up to their promise to break up. What can one say about this band and the people in this band? They play music. They know what they are doing.

Who are they?

HOTEL MOTEL. Come see them Friday Night at the Big House. If you are reading this you probably live there or at least have passed out there a time or two--but if you are a bot or are from the Yemen, leave a comment and we may see fit to put directions.

HOTEL MOTEL will be releasing thier newest and most last EP Your Ass is Grass So Please Pass the Peas. It lives up to their promise to "sound like Thinking Fellers Union Local 282." I have heard it and it is their best. You should come and get some (diddles).

Some bands are popular with the ladies. Some bands are Band's bands. And some, just some, are band's band's bands. I think you know who I mean, but maybe you don't know what I mean.

A band of beards of subtle knowledge. A band of systematic skirts. That isn't a saxophone but the call of all of the doves of peace as they lay down and learn to respect heavy gauge strings and toypiano solos.

Really: words aside. HOTEL MOTEL present a significant improvement in the state of music. another like them will not be along soon--

This doesn't LOOK like Finn...

TROPIC OF DDOODD!

MySpace Burn

Oh Burn. . .

"I got fucking awesome taste in music"

I assume everyone already reads the AV Club section of the Onion anyway, but just wanted to make sure y'all checked this out:

"This week, The A.V. Club introduces a new occasional feature, Random Rules, in which we ask our favorite rockers, writers, comedians, or whatevers to set their MP3 players to "shuffle" and comment on the first few tracks that come up."

First up, is David Berman of Silver Jews.
David Cross is also worth checking out.

The Saddest Story of All Time For Real!

Once, there were two people--and older man wrapped in a towel and a young woman who was addled in the head to such a degree that her tongue always hung out her mouth. He was kind and loving and she was jolly and full of good cheer. They were friends.

The older man took care of the young woman--bought her groceries, kept her yard--and the young woman kept the older man company--reading to him simple children's stories at night. Neither had any other family, so they made a family just for themselves. Nights were warm, days were beautiful.

Then one day, the older man died. The young woman, being addled, perhaps from a head injury, didn't know he was dead. She just thought he was sleeping. She continued to read to him, or to his lifeless body, each night in the fading light. Soon, she ran out of food, and being simple, couldn't go get food for herself. She was very hungry, but didn't know what to do. She kept asking the older man to get her food, but remeber, he's dead and couldn't respond. She cried. Then she died.

(pictures from Pugs In Hats)

Chris Toenes Fripps it up.

Keeping it Real?

So Pitchfork has a piece on authenticity and such, which uses the Frey thing as a starting point and even mentions Speak, Memory which David will appreciate. I'm not sure it really says much that isn't pretty obvious, and it's longer than it probably needs to be, but I thought it might be the sort of thing that would prompt some discussion here. Maybe I'm naive, but I tend to put myself in "the song not the singer" camp as much as I can. I used boy bands as a metaphor in our earlier discussion, but perhaps Ashlee Simpson is a better example. The anger and surprise at her 'faking it' hardly seems justified. Anyway, have at it.

Champions

A google image search for "Finn's Way" got me a link to this. Apparently, it's not a facial hair competition, but some sort of truck driving contest.

What you think in lights.

MySpace, Finn's Way

Overexperienced in Durham--volume Whatever

Wednesday, February 15
12:30pm
room Whatever in the Terry Sanford Institute of Despicable Public Policy Hotties
"journalizm klass"

Former NEWSWEEK editor JERRY FOOTLICK speaks to the minions on today's hottest issues in journalism:
"You will get a job with a Liberal Arts Degree. My daughter, Duke graduate, totally hot, makes an absurd amount of money, produces Hollywood movies that are touching lesbian brother and sister schlock and will forever live in the shadow of BROEKBAK MOUNTIN', she has a job. Making lots of money. ANd you'll get a job. You'll also be hired somewhere. Freelance writing is for chumps, or the independently wealthy. Oh, sure, it's a grait way to mayk a living, but don't bother with that." (here he pauses to twitch his face violently, which happens about 6 times a minute for the 75 minutes that he talks non-stop, in class that is only supposed to run for 55 minutes but is forced to sit uncomfortably reverently in the presence of someone famous who has ties to DUKE UNIVERSITY, with no questions from the brightest minds at a semi-brightest school [a painful subject with the Devils, who have always lived in the shadow of schools that not only had more people from NEW JERSEY but was actually in NEW JERSEY, or some state like that, CORENELL, or PRINZTUN] other than these:
1. "Like, it seems liek there's so many people who are like, working for NEWSWEEK all over the place, you know? And, so, this is a totally random question, but, like, how does that work? (makes gesture with both hands indicating some motion towards the center of the roundtable--it's a SEMENAR, you know?)

2. "What do you think about trying to do freelance writing for, like, a small local INDEPENDENT publication (narrator did not ask this question, but questioner spends way too much time staring at narrator in general)? "

Jobs. THat's the important thing about, like, journalism, and writing and stuff, too. Getting a job. In JOURNALISM, of course.

Lyrics Updated

Due to popular demand, the lyrics page has been updated to include all three EPs, our two compilation tracks and the lyrics to the forthcoming LP, "Teenage Horses." If you want the lyrics to that to be a suprise, don't look.

TROPIC OF DDOODD!

Marginalia

The Chronicle of Higher Education has an article about the digital recovery of Melville's Marginalia. Mr. HM is a hero to those of us here at the Tropic of Food, so this is very exciting. (via Backwards City Review).

In Melville: His World and Work (Knopf, 2005), Andrew Delbanco, humanities professor and director of American studies at Columbia University, observes that "detailed reconstruction of Melville's revisions of Moby-Dick is impossible since no manuscript or notes survive." But that assessment turns out to be an overly bleak one. No, Mr. Olsen-Smith doesn't have a long-lost draft of Moby-Dick up his sleeve. But he has recovered the next best thing — the notes Melville made in his copy of a critical source for Moby-Dick: Thomas Beale's 1839 book, The Natural History of the Sperm Whale.

Check it out!