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Archive for September, 2009

When Moose Get Sexy

Here’s the thing.

If you were a she-moose, you know you would be all about this dude (for the record, a she-moose is called a cow, but I’m not trying to confuse you more than necessary).

The Silent but Strong Type

The Silent but Strong Type

Look at that Eye. The calm expression. He’s just doing his thing. He’s not bothered by the weird thing sagging from his chin, so why should we be?  Yeah, his head is weighed down by his ridiculous antlers, but he bears them gracefully. We can’t see his knees in this picture, but we know they’re a fucking joke, because all moose have hilarious knees.

Still. This guy has something to say to our hearts, if we would only listen.

I love moose.

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So I’d been having a fine Saturday afternoon, listening to Mandy Moore and writing a little bit about her, dancing around to The Marvelettes and Françoise Hardy and painting my nails. In the middle of all this, DJ Reggie popped into my head.

that ryan, he thinks about the big things

that ryan, he thinks about the big things

Yeah, DJ Reggie. As in, the pseudonym Ryan Adams used a few years back (on his own website! ha!) to release about a thousand fucking songs. Those songs! They were silly, dude. So I love them. I have a soft spot in my heart for “Egyptiania Christmica” which contains lines like: “I got a thing about Ancient Egyptian documentaries / I like the voices they relax me.” Even better: “Those motherfuckers were busy as hell too / They just wanted, they wanted to build something fun / And have something to do / Well, not really /I mean, some politics went into it / In fact, there’s a good chance a bunch of motherfuckers didn’t get paid.”

Thinking of “Egyptiania Christmica” made me think of my favorite: “Unicorns (prob. don’t exist).” Here are the lyrics to this brilliantly insightful song:

“i got to tell you the truth about unicorns
unicorns don’t exist
i got to tell you the truth
i got to tell you the truth

motherfucking unicorns don’t exist
elves and wizards don’t exist
although it ain’t proven
nobody ever took a picture of them

i suppose they could still be
but the chances are 95%
that shit don’t exist
unicorns don’t exist
i got to tell you the truth
unicorns don’t exist
sad, but true
sad but true motherfuckers

if they did i bet there would be some kind of skeleton remains
on exhibit up in the moma or the met or the national history museum
but i ain’t seen nothing
nobody reported it back to me
it’s a fucking shame
unicorns don’t exist.”

Ryan Adams, you are absurd. Of course wizards exist!! But I love you anyway.

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Okay. So I am sort of a fan of Mandy Moore. As in, I inexplicably love her as a person despite, you know, not knowing her. Whatever, man.

mandymoore

I don’t know how it started. It wasn’t her early music, for sure. But I didn’t dislike her for it. I remember seeing her on tv from time to time and thinking to myself: “She seems like a sweetheart. I like this broad. I had better not tell anyone.” Of course, being myself, I told everyone. I went to see her films. I bought a cd. I listened to it occasionally. It was silly pop, but hey, I can make room for some of that in my life. So for years, unbeknownst to Ms. Moore herself, we shared a steady but slightly embarrassed relationship. I would get drunk and tell people I was a fan. I would go on lengthy talks about how I bet she was really cool to hang out with, and my theory that her earnestness might lead to her making a sort of decent album one day.  Friends had to listen me chat about how yeah, she did some cheesy movies, but she was always polite about it and self-deprecating and spoke about how she wanted to be a better artist. I would wake up in the morning and think: “Damn! I told people how I feel about Mandy again! I have to stop doing that!”

I need to point out that, despite my bizarre faith in Mandy Moore, I wasn’t under any illusions about some of the stuff she had done. I only saw the film How to Deal when my sister told me it was the most hilariously terrible film I would ever watch. She was right. Manos: the Hands of Fate and Troll II are certainly joyously bad, but much of the awfulness is because they are both (I don’t really know what to call them) sci-fi/fantasy/supposed horror films. They have a lot of room to be stupid. How to Deal tried to deal (ha!) with teen ‘problems’. Instead, Mandy Moore put her arms above her head at many points in the film, doing a weird swaying thing. I don’t know what it meant. God, Mandy, that swaying!! That fucking swaying, and those little turns!! Please, why, please, explain it to me. And! Alison Janey! I’m sad you were in that. Still.

Anyway, digression aside. Mandy Moore did things I wasn’t wild about, but I persisted in thinking she was going to do something pretty good one day. Then Mandy Moore did something which kinda broke my heart while also delighting me. She totally started dating Ryan Adams.

I Like This.

I Like This.

There were a whole lot of feelings I had about this. A) I love Ryan Adams. B) I like tall people. C) Mandy Moore seems like one of those really nice people who meets assholes and jerks and doesn’t feel a need to prove how morally superior she is to them, but just kinda smiles and makes the best of it. D) Does this mean Ryan is into dating tall people? Cos I’m as tall as she is. E) Why do I know how tall Mandy Moore is? F) Whatever, so I do. G) This is the only celebrity relationship I approve of. H) I hate celebrity relationships. I) I never want to know a single thing about their private relationship, because that is creepy J) All the same, I will feel devastated if they break up K) I probably shouldn’t live vicariously through this relationship L) Does this mean Mandy Moore will write a good album soon? M) I feel so proud of them both. Look at these two kids, growing up! N) I am getting old and sentimental.

Well, obviously a lot of those thoughts were silly (were they?) but L was actually rather on-point. Because this year she released Amanda Leigh, an album which is not bad. In fact, it is kind of okay. Okay to the point where I kinda listen to it more than occasionally. I wasn’t mad about Wild Hope. Wasn’t into that album of covers. I tried to like them because I could tell she was really trying to become a decent song-writer, but she wasn’t there yet.  On this new album though! There are some good songs on here!

‘Merrimack River’ is rather lovely. And ‘Pocket Philosopher’ is charming, holding itself back from unbearable perkiness. It makes me wanna restrain my own hyperness a bit and try to put some balanced rhythm in my walk. The album is pretty without being totally fucking boring. It’s not perfect, but it’s perfectly listenable. I still think she could benefit from going on-tour with Ryan Adams and getting really fucked up on stage every night, doing shots of whiskey and trying to figure out how to play the guitar while wobbling around. I feel that would be good for her as an artist. But that is probably why I am not a musician, and a poor blogger: because I like to have some beers and try to sing Ryan Adams songs before getting tired and watch Stella shorts. Still. Listen to me Mandy! Get drunk and tour the country! Yeah!!

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