• Concert Review: Aimee Mann at the Calgary Folk Music Festival (07-24-08)

    26 Jul 2008, 20:17 by andythesaint

    Before I get into this review, I'll admit straight out that I'm not an unbiased reviewer. Aimee Mann is one of my favourite artists, owing both to the fact that her melancholy songs are right up my alley (even though I'm a pretty happy guy, I'm drawn to sad music) and the fact that she's always been the first act on my iPod, so when I'm feeling indecisive about what to listen to, I simply press play, "How Am I Different" starts from Bachelor No. 2 and I'm good.

    She's probably been near the top of the list (that I'm surprised I haven't actually written down) of artists I wanted to see live, so I was pretty excited to learn that she was coming to play the Folkfest, and even more excited to learn that I got to go for free on behalf of http://blogcritics.org/. Yay for the internets!

    With all that said, festivals are never the best way to experience a musician, particularly for the first time. At best, it can offer a sample of what they're like live. …
  • Favorite Lines

    6 Oct 2006, 03:11 by phairphan

    The title is fairly self-explanatory. No, Patsy isn't recalling her fondest cocaine experiences. I'm going to use this journal entry as a running list of my favorite song lines, for either what they say or how they say it. I'll finally have these in one place I can access from any computer, rather than scattered about on scraps of paper. Sorry for the length, but this is more for me than for you.

    I'm falling out of bed, not out of love.
    Imaginary Lines

    But I'm alive.
    I survived you.
    I'm alive.
    I'm Alive

    I can tell by the way you reach your conclusions,
    you're the director of a mental institution.
    Tea & Thorazine

    My dandy voice makes the most anti-choice granny's panties moist.
    MTV Get Off the Air, Part 2 (feat. Princess Superstar)

    My private driveway is,
    like the Verrazano Bridge,
    I'm very much a bitch.

    So may the sunrise, bring hope where it once was forgotten.
    Sons are like birds, flying upward over the mountain.
    Upward Over the Mountain