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Getcher Mobius strips, Klein bottles, and Costa surfaces here!
Some days just can't hold onto their hours. This day — Wednesday — has butterfingers. It feels as though only seconds ticked since I phoned Jon Iverson this morning. In fact, an entire day has gone by. People are walking out the door, saying "bye," without looking back. Meanwhile, I'd like to start from the beginning.
What happened between then and now?
Many things, I suppose. April's trees have sprinkled their tree pollens all over Madison Avenue. I've been sneezing like mad. The whites of my eyes have gone pink like the cherry blossoms on Orchard Street.
…
RHIC creates mini-sized versions of the Big Bang. The results are perfectly surprising. Turns out, J. B. S. Haldane was right: The universe is not just stranger than we imagine, it's stranger than we can imagine.
The CEA has taken out ads in Capitol Hill papers that tell Congress to learn the difference between pirates and regular citizens employing fair use.
Via EFF Deep Links.
Oh yeah, while you're there Joe Citizen, you might want to sign the petition urging Congress to adopt a reasonable copyright stance rather than unquestioningly toeing the RIAA line.
Why can't our high-school students? (Okay, lighten up, I know it's because English makes no sense—I just couldn't resist the straight line.)
Matsushita and Toshiba call off talks about Blu-ray and HD-DVD. Let the public decide, they say. My guess? People will say, "A pox on both your houses" rather than gamble on choosing wrong. Again. Don't these bozos ever learn?
Smog's A River Ain't Too Much To Love rose again and again in the earliest days of this blog. It reminded me of Nebraska and it brought me back to San Francisco, and I am a rock bottom riser and I owe it all to you.
Of all the album's sad and lovely songs, "Rock Bottom Riser" — with Joanna Newsom doing her tipsy tender tap dance across the piano keys — seemed, to me, the saddest and loveliest, and so soon became my favorite.
I loved it. I loved it despite the Magnavox, and loved it more when the Solo arrived.
Today, Zach at Drag City lets us know that the video for…
Espers II
Drag City
Drag City
Shrouded in space echo and dangling with sleigh bells, the opening riff of Espers' "Dead Queen," clearly and immediately, draws an eerie resemblance to the Eagles' "Hotel California." As unfortunate as this may seem, there's more to this Philly band than some played-out tune.
As Espers II continues to crawl through the desert with its trembling, wonderfully–sustained guitar leads and tenderly plucked dulcimer and hypnotic 12–string, it becomes increasingly obvious that Espers offer so much more than the easily recognized haunt of…
Having heard from the good folks at Ralston Purina—sorry, "good folks" seems to be a trigger for 60's TV commercial flashbacks for puppy chow or something. Lemme try again...When I heard from the good folks at the burgeoning mini–mega empire that Concord/Fantasy Telarc has become that a new series called Stax Profiles was about to begin, I anxiously tore open a Concord box that arrived in the office yesterday.
While the entries on Albert King, Booker T, Little Milton, Eddie Floyd and others are mildly interesting, it was the Otis I was most interested in. In my unhumble…
Robert Baird's office is a record shop crowded by tall stacks of many–colored jewel cases and digipaks.
I walked in this morning, and let my eyes fall upon the closest disk: Espers' Espers II, the latest Drag City release.
"Have you listened to this, yet, RB?" I asked.
"No. Go ahead and take a listen."
"Cool."