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A sonic shoulder to cry on

There’s something magical about getting a new record album on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Yes, a record album. It feels so good to pull out the freshly pressed vinyl and drop it on the tuntable, hear that first little hiss as the needle touches down (“The Needle has landed,” as Neko Case says) and you’re wisked away to happy times. Anyway, as I pulled the cellophane wrapped LP from the cardboard mailer, Poppy wandered over and inquired — after extending birthday wishes to the cover subject — “What’s that?”

“It’s my new record. It’s a new Wilco album. Want to listen to it?”

However we didn’t listen to the LP right then — we had to run out to the hair cuttery for the gals, so we took along the CD that came with the LP and listened to the smaller, more compact version in the car on the way to the chop shop.

Since then, I have probably completed 15 listenings of the entire album (about 6 on the LP — and yes, I think it does sound richer than the CD). I think it might be their best album. Or let me put it another way that I think is more fitting and really a better compliment to them — it is as good as all their others.

“Wilco (the Album)” sort of represents a convergence of the sounds that I’ve heard on their tracks before, but this time it’s all melded together. The first song “Wilco (the song)” — a sonic reassurance to all their fans that regardless of who is out to get you, Wilco has your back — gets things started with a wink and a hug. And the album just goes from there.

Throughout the album, they sound like they are having fun, and the result is that I have fun listening to them having fun. It’s fun, but it’s also confident. This is the most assured Wilco I’ve heard, and while some may not like the produced feel of some of the tracks, there are spots throughout the record where anyone who has seen them live or knows their music well will be saying to themselves, “Man, I can’t imagine what Nils will do on THAT solo live!” or “Hey, that keyboard in the background reminds me of SummerTeeth.”

My favorite song (so far): “Bull Black Nova.” I love how it builds bewteen the frantic emotion of the words and the slightly piercing timbre of the guitar. Not to mention, it has what I think is one of the best repeated guitar riffs in their vast catalog of songs.

This is the kind of Wilco album that someone who has never bought a Wilco album could buy and get a nice taste for their different facets all in one dose. So support the economy — go buy a few copies and distribute to all your friends.

Are Times getting tough?
Are the roads you travel rough?
Have you had enough of the old?
Tired of being exposed to the cold?
Stare of your stereo
Put on your headphones before you explode

Let’s go Devil Rays! Or, how the MLB lost its biggest fan.

I’m pleased to welcome our first guest-poster here at Butterscotch Sundae. Rockford has asked Chris to talk to you about baseball, and our favorite expat was kind enough to agree to do so.

Chris and Baby Z, doing what dads and their boys do.I was born and raised a Dodgers fan because my Dad was a Dodgers fan. I remained a Dodgers fan until I got to the age when you start to disagree with your Dad, and then I became a Braves fan. I loved the Braves when they sucked, in the ’80s when they wore powder blue and averaged 65 wins per season. When Dale “The Stormin’ Mormon” Murphy was their sole All-Star. There’s something pure about a team that bad, something simple and something loveable. The best thing was that every single game could be seen on “The Superstation” sandwiched between reruns of “The Dukes of Hazzard” and “Dallas.” That glorious 1995 series win over Cleveland made it all worthwhile, yet their hapless record in the post-season kept things simple.

The Braves didn’t make the playoffs this year. But it doesn’t matter because as the 2008 MLB playoffs get started up, I’m a die-hard Tampa Bay Devil Rays.* This isn’t because I grew up in Florida; Tampa Bay didn’t have a team until I had left the Sunshine State firmly in my rear view mirror. Nor is it some kind of bandwagon jumping. I’m pulling for the Devil Rays this year because they’ve got the second-lowest payroll in major league baseball.
Continue reading Let’s go Devil Rays! Or, how the MLB lost its biggest fan.