2008 Brady Bunch Year In Review

Here is our 2008 year in review slideshow. Some of the pictures were ganked from Grandma and from my brother Bill's blog. Music is "I'm Working On A Building" by the Seventy Sevens. Enjoy!

In which cool stuff happened

You can find out about a couple of cool things I've been doing the last couple of days by clicking on some links (support your local bloggers!):

My brother's blog has some pictures of the playhouse Steven and I helped him work on this week. It's not done, but progress pictures will be continuing as the work moves on, I'm sure.

My wife blogged about our search for a new church. We've been talking about looking for one and we finally got around to it. She's got all the details (and is a lot prettier than me) so go check out her blog as well.

In which I finally get it over with

You ever heard the word "blogslacking"? I picked it up while trolling the Ben/Wanda/Megan blogumverate. It means you have a blog but you don't write in it. My name is Sam Brady and I am a blogslacker. By trying to cure my blogslack, I have now become a workslacker as well, in that I am writing in my blog when I should actually be working. Lo, I am a master of the myriad forms of slack-fu.

I've been meaning, at some point, to tell the long, sort-of-funny, fully annotated version of the stove story but it's been four months now, so what's the point any more, really, you know? I'll beat that long-dead horse by giving you the down-and-dirty, then move on with my blog and my life. Our stove caught on fire in June or July (might have even been May). Twice. In one day. Pithy e-mails were exchanged between my wife and me. We eventually got a new stove, but it was too big for our stove hole. My brother came over one night and made our stove hole bigger. Yay Bill! And Steven helped. We have been enjoying our new stove for many weeks now. I think it's this one. If it's not, it looks a lot like it, so roll with it.

So that's the stove story. I'm sure you're saying, "We waited all this time for that?" Talk about your anticlimaxes.

I know I had other things to tell you, but I really can't think of any of them right now so I'll go away and try and get some work done before I go home. Hopefully the amount of my blogslack will decline. I'll do my best, but no promises.

Rock me, Joseph Alberto Santiago

I've been on a tremendous Pixies kick the last couple of weeks. I've passed several delightful hours inside Bossanova and Trompe le Monde in particular, but have spent plenty of time careering back and forth across the entirety of their oeuvre with impunity as well. If you put all their records together you don't even get five hours of music total but, with the exception of brief excursions into Radiohead, I've listened to nothing else over the last two weeks; I must have listened to each record at least four of five times in whole, plus just putting the player on shuffle more than once and letting it percolate for a while. It's music that just fascinates me to no end.

They play within so many different styles, from roaring punk-thrash-whatever ("Tame") to shimmering pop ("Havalina") to surf rock ("Cecilia Ann"). It's a melange that I don't think anyone else this side of Nirvana has managed to duplicate with as much panache. Another similarity to Nirvana lies in the tortured voice of Black Francis. Like Cobain, he ranges from tender sweetness to manic incoherency. What is Frank saying, exactly? Even with a lyric sheet in front of me, I can't really understand that one line in "Wave of Mutilation"--it sounds like "I've kissed mermaids, plucked me an emu." According to the lyrics I looked at on the Internet (which, come on, it's the Internet), the end of that line is "rode the El Niño". OK. If you say so. At least the rest of the song is--can I use the word "legible" to refer to the spoken word? You know what I mean. Still, either way that's more than you can say for "Territorial Pissings" so Pixies get the nod over Nirvana in that particular instance.

It's fun listening to Kim Deal sing, too. She sounds like she's ten years old. That's what makes "Cannonball" such a fun song (yes, I know it's by the Breeders. Hush). I think my favorite part of the Pixies' music, though, is the drumming. It's just so simple and unobtrusive; it's like if Charlie Watts played in a punk band. I'm an unrepentant air drummer, so I really get into it. I was sitting at my desk yesterday tapping away to "Trompe le Monde" when a co-worker happened by and grinned and gave me some good-natured snark. I just nodded, then kept on doing my thing. I'm willing to suffer for my art.

I first learned about the Pixies in college when I was hosting a show (such as it was) on WMRE (such as it was). Trompe le Monde was a recent release and in the Heavy Rotation bin. I used to love playing "Letter To Memphis" or "Subbacultcha" or "U-Mass" (hoping in the latter case that Frank's incoherence would render the explicit anatomical references murky enough to keep me from getting fired. Then again, considering the state of WMRE's management and listenership in those days, you'd have had to do a lot worse than playing a song like "U-Mass" to have anyone notice it and get fired for it. That's a whole 'nother story, though. I might have to see if I can get Ben to tag-team with me on some WMRE musings sometime. Remind us to tell you about Allen Ginsberg and Mr. Bungle). As a result, Trompe le Monde has always been my favorite Pixies record. Years later, my brother made me a three tape Pixies/Breeders/Frank Black manastrocophy, and I was fully exposed to the rest of their catalog at last. In the last few months I've managed to collect the Pixies library (except for the two "best of" compilations) on mp3, which has been feeding my occasional jones since.

I haven't tried introducing my daughter to the Pixies yet. Her tastes run more towards anything with a dance beat, rather than straight-up rock and roll. Techno, bubblegum pop, even '60's soul--if you can wiggle to it, she's diggin' it (as an aside, you should hear her say "Soulfinger"--I can't even spell it the way she says it. "Sodafeegah" comes close, I guess). The Pixies would probably be a little raucous for her at this stage. She's not even five yet, though. There'll be plenty of time to educate her on the finer things in life as she gets older.

That's it for now. I may take the time at a later date to expound on other of my musical obsessions. Iron Maiden, Seventy Sevens, and--most bizarrely, perhaps--marching bands come immediately to mind as future topics. I might have to post more about air drumming, too. Some good stories there. For now, though, I will continue my journey into autumn with the Pixies and leave you with the (mostly coherent) words of Black Francis.

Cease to resist
Giving my goodbye
Drive my car into the ocean
You think I'm dead
But I sail away
On a wave of mutilation