There Are a Million Things Doing Me

Am overdosing on input, right now, a bit overstimulated.  Blame much of this on the 2005 New York Asian Film Festival, currently heading into its second week.  Reviews will be forthcoming, but if you’re in search of something different it’s worth just stopping in and randomly checking stuff out.  The second week of the fest is at the ImaginAsian theater on E. 59th St.; tix are $9 at the door or $9.50 ($8+service charge) online, and there have been giveaways (ranging from the valuable to the inane) before each screening I’ve attended.  But right now it doesn’t matter if I say that Seijun Suzuki’s Princess Raccoon is one of the most enjoyable movies of the year, because there are no more fest screenings and I don’t think it has a U.S. distributor, yet...

Brooklyn Vegan put out a “Best CDs of 2005 (So Far)” list last week, and my initial reaction was that, while there has been a great amount of above-average music so far this year, there weren’t any records with which I’d fallen in love.  Little has lodged itself in my CD player, and some of that is because there’s been so much good music to listen to, so many options.

But in the past couple weeks, I’ve finally found a couple that have made me dance around screaming, “Buy this, buy this, buy this now.”  So here are my three so-fars:

3.  Sufjan Stevens, Illinois.  Yes, it’s overlong, but no, it’s not a tired retread of Michigan.  It’s richer and more adventurous, bigger without being broader.  Like any good road trip, it takes you a bit out of the way, but there’s no begrudging “The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades is Out to Get Us!!!” for being every bit as good as “Chicago” or “Come On!  Feel the Illinoise!”  Riddled with little climaxes, it sometimes feels like A Lot to Do, but the doin’ is good.

2.  I’ve never gotten over Andrew Bird’s The Mysterious Production of Eggs.  Bird wields the same spoon as Vonnegut did, lacing his smart, sorrowful stuff with agreeably textured lyrics and gorgeous, life-affirming music.  It’s the apocalypse, but he’s bringing snacks. 

1.  Cloud Cult, Advice From the Happy Hippopotamus.  My new favorite song is “Rockwell,” wherein psychedelic feedback melts into house beats while Craig Minowa desperately drags his nails along expired nostalgia (“I think it could still be just like Norman Rockwell”).  But that’s just because that’s what’s currently pumping through my headphones.  Every track is my new favorite song.  Even when Minowa’s MN-based collective makes you feel you’ve heard it all elsewhere – there are Modest Mouse mantras, Radiohead richness, a mélange of Saddle Creek samples (Cursive, Desaparecidos...), a quick gasp of DeLaughter gas – there’s no place else you’d rather be.  Big thanks to More in the Monitor for gushing about these guys.

 If Southpaw doesn’t start selling advance tix for the Jenyk.com Clap Your Hands Say Yeah (who’re still listed as opening for Dirty on Purpose – wonder if that’ll change) show, they’re going to have a nightmare on their hands.  The band has already run out of their new CD, apparently.  I’ll give it a listen (and there are sample tracks on their site), but I’m not prepared to be blown away.  I’ve seen them before, and think they’re... fun, fine.

And that Pitchfork rating?  Sure it’s a whopping 9.0.  But it only took two whole days before CYHSY got bumped off the front page’s “Best New Music” window. 

tags: cloud cult  

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