There are lyrics I remember

Sometimes, I get random, undeniable urges to listen to very specific songs––tonight, it was "There Are Places I Remember," by none other than The Beatles.
I don't know if it's the controversy over a recent Gargoyle senior staff editorial (located here), or an exceptionally tiring week of school, but I felt somewhat blue until this song popped into my brain and said, "play me, Jono––I'm the perfect blend of a strong, but laid-back beat, smooth Beatles lyrics and vocals, mellow guitar, and a simple message of love." And so I did.
My brain hit the mark. Sometimes listening to something like The Who's "My Generation" medley from "Live at Leeds" puts me back into the mood with its energizing instrumental and vocal combinations (the Who's members were all masters and at the top of their game, and their meshed aptitude is what makes The Who so incredible, especially in their live recordings, which do an amazing job of unleashing their sheer power) and intense rock 'n' roll, underground attitude.
Other nights, I might slap some electronica (Prefuse 73 or DJ Shadow, for instance) onto my iTunes and start tapping out the rhythms, dancing––I even try human beatboxing on occasion...usually I'm alone. But tonight, something mellow was the perfect pick-me-up. It carried me away gently from a slightly depressed and somber mood and placed me in a new mindset; a positive mindset that didn't demand I felt upset.
And while "There Are Places I Remember" lifted me out of my initial rut, the next song that came onto my computer's speakers actually pulled me over the threshold into a good mood––"Poor Places" by Wilco, which is my favorite band for a reason.
This song says, "summer" to me. It begins fairly thinly, with Jeff Tweedy's lyrics accompanied only by a low-volume beeping that's reminiscent of the last rays of a late summer evening's setting sun in Champaign; the heat's finally dying down, the cicadas are calling out, and there's a sense of completeness and perfection in the still humid air.
But then, instead of dying out like the day gives way to night, the delicate and intricate pairing of Tweedy's voice and the electronic underlay is upset by the introduction of strong chords played on the piano, and "Poor Places" erupts in a brilliant display of new power, as drums and less subtle electronic elements begin to take over.
Tweedy's voice prevails through the entire ordeal, and seems to conduct every minute detail within the piece––the song's resulting sound is orchestral, not just in metaphor, but in bright, emotional music; "Poor Places" rises up in the air as it progresses, and eventually reaches a stratosphere of miscellaneous instrumental sounds (that could be incorporate practically every percussion implements from sleigh bells to washboards).
I turned the song off before it reached such heights––unfortunately, my left ear is giving me problems and the last minute or so of "Poor Places" bothered it tonight. But the effect of the four previous minutes had already carried my spirits high enough, and that's how music should always be, and I believe I'll remember this "Poor Places" for a while.

A step closer to greatness

So in the last week, I've gone through what I'd consider a somewhat interesting series of events, all of which resulted in my exciting new news: I've just received my first promotional CD copies ever!

The whole package I was sent, including album descriptions

See, the story starts goes this:
I decided to submit my last review of The Autumn Defense's new self-titled album to the News-Gazette. It occurred to me that I shouldn't stop at just that. I'd done a few other things for the News-Gazette, and I figured, "maybe I should start writing more regularly; I could contribute CD and concert reviews weekly." And so I talked to Melissa Merli (the Spin-Off section editor), and she said it sounded good.
Meanwhile, I thought I was going to get paid per story by the News-Gazette and reimbursed for these CD purchases for turning in the reviews to the Gargoyle and posting them online. To make a slightly longer story short, that didn't work out according to plan, and so I talked to Melissa and we decided that, although the News-Gazette doesn't reimburse writers, she would contact some record labels (Nonesuch, Matador, and Subpop, for instance) and see what strings she could pull.
All the while, I'd been reading reviews and looking at music sites when I stumbled upon a review of "Hissing Fauna, Are You The Destroyer?" by Of Montreal––their new release––and realized that they're signed to a local company, Polyvinyl. Fireworks started going off in my head, and I scrambled to contact Polyvinyl, mentioning that I live in town and that I was going to start writing for the News-Gazette soon.
So pretty soon after that, I got a response saying that they were interested––the local support was appreciated––and that pretty much brings us up to speed. I hope that wasn't too personal of a blog (i.e. I hope that I didn't come off sounding like a 14-year-old girl with a bad attitude and a livejournal), but maybe it's important to this blog too––I will have more to talk about after all. So expect comments on those sometime in the near future.

-Jono

Viva la revolucion

I'll admit I had my doubts about Prince performing in the Halftime Show at the Super Bowl this year––my original introduction to him was through "Chappelle's Show," and the whole deal seemed a bit too revolutionary for me, as it were. But while I expected to watch some overly flamboyant guitar player who was carelessly left over from the 80s removing various clothing items in front of an audience of millions of Americans, I was stunned to find that his show was actually really good.
Prince's guitar work was, of course, one of the first perks of the show. Even before the introduction of his "symbol" guitar, the fact that a pop star was playing his own instrument (and in addition to that, playing it well) was a treat that most followers of today's mainstream probably can't relate to. His vocals were fairly good, as expected, but the sheer volume of Super Bowl fans unfortunately drowned him out a bit as well.
That said, Prince's stage presence was also enjoyable in its own way. Really, his behavior was representative of all good musicians: he was smooth and just plain awesome throughout the entire show, such as when his guitar-playing silhouette was projected on a giant cloth that was blown up into the air, and when he seemed to throw his guitar into the already electric audience. But to add an extra, more expected dimension, he mixed it up with a few ridiculous, over-the-top bits, although he didn't go so far as to crawl or strip onstage.
One thing I definitely did not enjoy (and I don't seem to be alone in this) was the cover of The Foo Fighters' "Best of You" that Prince interrupted an infinitely better cover of Bob Dylan's "All Along The Watchtower" for. But even though this truly was the worst part of the show, he went out with a great "Purple Rain," and that in and of itself practically made up for the other errors in his playlist automatically.
And even if Prince's overall stage presence and raw talent hadn't cancelled my disdain for "Best of You," his cover of it was still not bad by any stretch of the imagination––it was actually a major step up from the original. The entire performance was one of the best I've seen during a Super Bowl. Despite its flaws, the crowd was still going wild, my friends and I all had a great time watching it, and it could've been much worse––Paul McCartney could've played again.

"Books, records, movies––these things matter"

With the immortal words of John Cusack as Rob Gordon in "High Fidelity" as a send-off, The Fake Plastic Press is officially rolling. This blog's purpose is to provide an area for the discussion of music and music-related topics. There'll be no "Rolling Stone Magazine" shit here ever––regardless of popularity, Fake Plastic Press does not and will not exist for anything other than offering straightforward opinions and good music journalism (if not a bit of random thought as well).
I hope to be accompanied on this mission by as many true fans of music as possible. Please feel free to comment openly on the blog and state your own opinions on anything and/or everything I write––I may be the voice here, but I wouldn't want to be speaking to a deaf audience.
It's just turned to Feb. 5, 2007 (and sorry Bears fans), but I plan to continue this project for as long as is necessary to broadcast myself. This blog is bound to evolve and develop as time progresses, and if you have any suggestions or want to help me with that as well, your input will be welcomed.
And so, with all of that said, I welcome you to Fake Plastic Press. Let the turntables spin.

-Jono

I'd also like to give special thanks to Rachel Baron, Ryan Carlson, Jeff Brandt, and my rents.