Reppin the 505

As the innaugural post on my semi-ironically titled pop culture blog, I shall begin by asking (myself) the question: why should I, a shipping clerk who dropped-out of/graduated college after only three years, add his own hackneyed voice to the cacaphonous glut of amateur journalism on the internet? Is it because I have something pertinent and meaningful to add to the general cultural discourse? Is it because the world is hungry for the opinions of another over-educated, underworked twentysomething with an interest in independent music? Is it because my crippling loneliness and isolation has forced my to turn to the only form of expression available to me in the soulless social vacuum of modern society? Or is it because I saw the blog that my friend Dan (aka Lionel McLure) started, and was moved his jockishly overcompetitive spirit to try and outdo him. . . The world may never know.

One thing is for certain though: the Bears lost the Super Bowl and now I'm bored (I guess that's two things). Of course, this year's football season was of particular importance to me because, up until this point, it's the only one I paid any attention to. So why, you might ask, does a guy who spent most of his life decrying the inherent worthlessness of sports suddenly turn into George Wendt's superfan character on SNL (minus the morbid obesity)? Well, after reluctantly agreeing to join the fantasy football league at my work, I ended up doing pretty well (I went undefeated and won the playoffs), and, much to my surprise, eventually found myself enjoying real football (oooh, take that 16-year-old self!). At the same time, I found in the Chicago Bears a team that I could root for without A) feeling like a fraud and B) resigning myself to a life of perpetual frustration (Giants, I'm looking in your direction). And even though they lost the big one, it was all worth it to see them crush the hopes of the beleaguered city of New Orleans and win the NFC championship. As a bonus, I also found out that Brian Urlacher, the monstrously-large-yet-neatly-groomed linebacker that makes up the core of the Chicago defense, played college ball in my home-of-homes, Albuquerque, New Mexico. This brings me to the subject of this entry: New Mexican expatriates that aren't a disgrace.

Up until recently, the only celebrities I knew to come from my home state are C-list actors like Freddie Prinz Jr. and French Stewart. To my knowledge the only halfway respectable celebrity to share a home town with me is Neil Patrick Harris (who only gets a pass because of his role in Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle). So right now I want to give it up here for two bands, the Shins and Beirut, both comprised of New Mexican expats, that remind me that maybe I'm not doomed to a life of lameness and douchebaggery just because I'm from a state that the general public doesn't recognize as a part of the union.

I downloaded the new Shins album, Wincing the Night Away, last week and pretty much haven't been listening to anything else. While I was definitely part of the post-Garden State backlash against the Shins and I found their last album annoyingly preachy at points and not as catchy as their first, I decided to give this one a shot. Sadly the lyrics are still a bit esoteric for what is essentially a pop record (FYI: the word 'conundrum' should never find it's way into any pop song). Though luckily the band seems to have used that fat Garden State paycheck to buy some better weed, because they've jacked up psychedelia and added trippy instumental interludes into almost every song. So between the dense production and the catchy hooks you can almost ignore the feeling that the lyrics were the work of a 16-year-old girl submitting poetry to her high school literary magazine.

Unfortunately though, the Shins have effectively given up their NM citizenship (the last interview I read with them involved James Mercer explaining how excited he was to be buying a house and settling down in Portland) and probably don't even remember what green chile tastes like. The members of Beirut, on the other hand might still be young enough that some of them could live with their parents without being ridiculed, so even though they apparently live in New York, they still get plugged as being from "New Mexico by way of New York" (like me if I were to get plugged for anything). For those that aren't familiar with Beirut, they're definitely worth listening to if for no other reason than that they've pretty much invented their own bastard genre (though I'd give it another year before the Grammy's start giving out an award for Best Performance by a Slavic Folk-Rock Duo or Group). Their debut was good, but by all counts pretty rough. The recording is low-fi and the songs are mostly devoid of structure. I downloaded their new EP, Lon Gisland the other day, and so far I haven't been disappointed (I'm hoping that title is meant to point out that people from Long Island sound dumb when they speak, because they do). On this record, the songs sound more like songs and the production values are much improved, but they still keep their signature sound of brassy horns and ukulele strumming under deep, crooning vocals (hey, there's a thought - an indie rock vocalist that can sing lower than a choir boy!). The band is rumored to be working on a new album somewhere in northern NM. I'll be waiting. In the mean time, let's hope I have something else to say so that I can keep this blog going.