the most conflicted creatures on this planet.

"And I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam

And no emotion that’s worth having could call my heart its home."

When's the last time you want to an actual record store? Like where you have to walk through a door and can't just click "download"? Yes, we live inside a blog, but record stores are pretty great. Brandon worked at one (Cheap Thrills Records, New Brunswick, NJ) for a handful of years before the place went under. It's where he cut his teeth, put on fun in-stores, and talked to people face-to-face while trying to explain why they might like the new Pavement and/or Harry Pussy album (all depending). We don't want to get too nostalgic, but it's those sorts of stores (the overstuffed, carefully curated independents) where so much essential music learning takes place. If you haven't ever been in a record store, go watch High Fidelity on your laptop, but take it down a few notches.

Nowadays, a lot of record stores are going under. People don't like to leave their houses anymore. This weekend, though, leave your house to celebrate the first ever Record Store Day. (Mark it on your calendar for next year, too: 4/19, the day before 4/20.) Record Store Day's the idea of a number of independent store owners, who hoped to remind us about the fact that because most folks download their sounds today, record stores as we know 'em are fast going the way of Beta and major record labels. If the livelihood of these people doesn't tug at your heart strings, how are you supposed to have a crush on the cute girl (or boy) working behind the counter when there are no counters to work behind? Maybe more importantly: What happens to the rad folks who know a lot of shit about, say, reggae? Via NY Times:

Some retailers are hoping that the effort is not too late. Jammyland and the Downtown Music Gallery, two East Village institutions -- Jammyland, on Third Street, specializes in rare reggae, and Downtown, on the Bowery, in avant-garde jazz and new music -- are facing untenable rent increases and are looking for new homes.
Jammyland is "the model of what a great record store can be," said Vivien Goldman, the author of "The Book of Exodus: The Making and Meaning of Bob Marley and the Wailers' Album of the Century" and other books. "D.J.'s congregate there from all over and exchange ideas. It's a crucible of music knowledge."

For a local music shopper with a memory of even just a few years, the East Village and the Lower East Side are quickly becoming a record-store graveyard. Across from Jammyland is the former home of Dance Tracks, a premier dance and electronic outlet, which closed late last year, as did Finyl Vinyl, on Sixth Street. Stooz on Seventh Street, Sonic Groove on Avenue B, Accidental on Avenue A, Wowsville on Second Avenue and Bate, an essential Latin store on Delancey Street -- all gone, to say nothing of stores in other neighborhoods, like Midnight Records in Chelsea and NYCD on the Upper West Side.

"Rent is up, and sales are down," Malcolm Allen of Jammyland said as he sold a few Jamaican-made 45s to a customer last weekend. "Not a good combination."

basically, this is an apology.
i still know what's best for both of us, kid.
we've been through enough.
there's nothing left to prove.
the feeling's mutual, but not exclusive.

alibis are only excuses -
allowances for us to abuse the truth.
the truth is i'm done with them.
you may not ever hear them again.

and still they only fulfill so much until
we have to fess up and face the facts
the best we can or live with the consequence...
the resulting accident.

our patience is fading.
consider this courtesy,
if not somewhat evasive underneath.
but even if it just thrills my soul,
or it burns another hole,
i've got to let it go
before we can't.
so long.
you've got to believe there's something better out there,
someone better out there for you than me.

so, there you left me standing
to fend for myself however.
but i'm holding up,
i'm pulling through.
i'm not sure what else you expect me to do.
but i won't deny that i'm taking it hard...
i'm taking whatever's available to me.
you see, that's just the way i deal with grief.

since i left you here
in our destroyed machine,
i fear you've grown immune
to the difference between
whether you're holding on
or you're just holding out.
do me a favor, love.
let me go.
let me lose; before it's too late to choose.

while your pride is numb,
while your face is still young,
while your hands are still clean,
just wash yourself of me.

It's easy to forget that when Elliott Smith first hit the
scene things were a lot different than they are now. There weren't
that many sensitive singer songwriters roaming the underground and
there was still a pretty huge divide between the 'indie' and the
mainstream. Of course that has all changed so much, but when Elliott
first started to get wider attention thanks to Gus Van Sant's use of
his songs in Good Will Hunting and the Oscar nomination that
followed, it was really an exceptionally strange occurrence in the
indie music scene. It kind of marked the moment where much of what
had been a big well kept secret would soon become a part of popular
culture. We can still remember watching Smith on live TV performing
at the Oscar's in his white tuxedo looking so sweet, nervous and
humble. It truly felt like one of US was finally getting their
deserved moment in the spotlight. Of course he lost to Celine Dion,
but there was really no one you would rather get to represent so many
of the underdogs than Elliott Smith. It was like finally getting to
see someone honest and uncorrupted in a mainstream Hollywood setting.
His music was so pure and beautiful, with this uncanny ability to
make the bitter sound so sweet.

"I listened to her music. She listened to mine."