My New Favorite Band I Just Heard Of

No, not Mumford & Sons.  Although I did recently listen to their album Sigh No More just last week for the first time.  (And after this, I’m equally enamored with their sound, and perplexed as to how I missed out on these guys all year.) Definitely give them a listen.

But tonight I briefly want to mention a band I heard about on Sunday—and then again, and again.  The band Buke and Gass derives its name from the homemade hybrid instruments it members play: a baritone ukulele (“buke”), and a guitar/bass combo (a “gass,” naturally.)  They also use stomp-boxes, kick-pedal tambourines, and an array of custom distortion pedals all played through homemade amps tweaked to produce the unique sounds that populate their eclectic, but oddly catchy, songs.

As the owner of a homemade cigar-box guitar (hand-crafted by my grandfather), with an interest in creating more instruments, writing my own songs, as well as an open ear for cool local bands operating in the DIY mode—of course I was taken by Buke and Gass.

I first heard them perusing the 50 Favorite Albums of 2010 on the NPR Music website (as nominated by NPR staff in DC and at member stations.)  If you’re looking for a summary of 2010 in music and some new stuff for the iPod, I highly recommend this.  Surprisingly, the selections are more diverse than I expected, but I really appreciate this aspect.  (And unsurprisingly, the bands—and provided sample songs—are quality.)  But if you’re looking for a more passive way to get a sense of 2010’s best music, you could also listen to the latest All Songs Considered podcast, wherein the NPR music staff runs through their favorite new artists, albums, and songs of the year (many of whom I had the privilege to see in concert.)

As if a mention on both these lists was not enough, Buke and Gass also appeared at the NPR offices for a Tiny Desk Concert.  Again, you should watch it, especially if you want to check out their instruments—unique and experimental, if not especially unusual.  But as if this wasn’t enough coincidental publicity and exposure in single week, guess who’s profile appeared in the music section of the Village Voice?  Buke and Gass, of course. 

And wouldn’t you know it, they’re doing a concert this Saturday night at Mercury Lounge.  I love going to concerts (for anyone new to this blog), especially for hip local bands I first heard of less than a week before.  However, as it turns out, I will be working that evening.  Do not shed a tear on my behalf—I have cried into my growler of craft beer for many a night already.  But, if you’re anywhere near NYC this weekend, I highly recommend the concert.  And if you do happen to go, please don't rub it in (much.)
 

One man's trash ...

Late last night, as I wearily scanned the blogosphere, my roommate entered my open bedroom door carrying a milkcrate.  As he set it next to me, I could tell that the uniformly similar objects contained within were collectively heavy.  And considering that my roommate had just come from a chilly walk outside, I had the strong sense that a pile of junk had just been deposited on my floor.

It took me all of a second to realize that he’d found a second-hand collection of two dozen vinyl albums—and nearly all of them in Spanish!


As I began to examine through this bizarre collection, I recognized the title of a song on the very first record and immediately played it on my turntable.  As “Los 3 Paraguayos" (a trio straight out of a Canadian world music festival) played in the background, I flipped through my new—and wholly unexpected—treasure trove.

Although this may not hold true with books any longer (you know, with the digital age upon us), with vinyl, eye-catching cover art remains essential.  And let me tell you, Spanish albums from the 1960s are particularly hilarious to see several decades and a language removed:

from serious portraits of male singers featuring their impressive guitars and/or facial hair,

to ensembles in native garb;

whether the Simon & Garfunkel of northern Brazil,

or the eight albums by famed Chicano singer Trini Lopez.

Apparently, the former owner is a big fan of TL—but now I assume he has the collected works on his iPod.

And there’s even a cover featuring a rotund Latino man in sombrero and bandoliers slouching next to a bottle of tequila—an album appropriately called Mexican Joe.   

Oh the hilarity!  I couldn't help but chuckle as I put on record after record, read aloud from the few English album descriptions, and attempted to decipher just what any of this milkcrate meant.  All I know is that I have some rather strange and enjoyable hours of music ahead of me (perhaps I’ll even pick up some Espanol.)  Now that I can entertain with style, I just wish I could host a swinging Sixties cocktail party, throw on a Trini Lopez record (they’re all good—especially The F**k Album), and dance about my apartment full of urbane, witty guests with a highball in hand. 



(By the way, did you know that Mr. Peabody went through a lengthy legal process to possess his boy, Sherman?  That’s right—he owns him.  Get on Netflix, grab a bottle of hooch, and watch a few episodes of Rocky & Bullwinkle—you’ll see what I mean.)

Civil Liberties, Cultural Relevance, and … Picture Books?

"At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected? I answer, if it ever reach us, it must spring up amongst us. It cannot come from abroad. If destruction be our lot, we must ourselves be its author and finisher. As a nation of freemen, we must live through all time, or die by suicide."  

                                                                                                                                      --Abraham Lincoln, 1838

While perusing the Internets during the week, I tend to keep an eye out for articles pertaining to the protection (or, more likely, the violation) of civil liberties or civil rights.  Oh, there’s nothing I like more than a story on Guantanamo Bay detainees, or gay marriage, or oppressed ethnic minorities to get my blood boiling.
This week, however, rather than the subjects of the articles themselves, I took notice of the authors’ arguments and evidence.  Specifically, I twice read an allusion to the same historical event—although to different aspects of the event.  Glen Greenwald (a civil liberties watchdog) and Akhil Reed Amar (a law professor), while addressing the legal and judicial issues surrounding suspected and convicted terrorists, each refer to the trial of British soldiers involved in the 1770 Boston Massacre.