Yellow Mustard Blog

I like music. I wouldn't go as far as to say I am an audiophile...mostly because I'm not totally convinced that isn't a felony in some Midwestern states. I do not touch dirty music, ok??!Anyway, I am trying to be more open to all forms of music and accepting of everyone's tastes. The jaded, world-weary YMG of college got pissed off when a band I liked suddenly became popular and started getting Top 40 radio play. Back then, I thought it was because I was an elitist. Luckily, the self-medicating YMG of today is too hopped up to be bitter. And now I realize the real reason I get pissed is because when a band gets popular, their damn concert tickets shoot up from $12 to $60!! I better get a lap dance for that much chinga. And a t-shirt is 30 bucks now?!?! What is it made out of, Justin Timberlake and champagne dreams? oy!

But anyway, I try to give all music a chance (except for Big & Rich or Tiny and Smalls or whatever the hell that country band is. That top hat is NOT amusing!!) but mostly stick to my beloved indie rock. Oh indie rock, your name is almost as vague and all encompassing as "emo" which itself was coined by a drunken hobo during a bar fight and even then no one knew what it meant. I know, I know, indie music can be a little out there...a little pretentious...a little "grad student pretending to be poor and 'real' while carrying around a $300 ipod and an extra hot, venti soy latte with 2 pumps of vanilla and three Splenda. Splenda, not Equal, dammit!"

Back to indie, however. To me, that includes everything from whimsical, wistful Sufjan Stevens to bloodthirsty, pretending-to-be-angry My Chemical Romance. Quite the expanse of musical territory. I like music with substance; rich, colorful lyrics and beautiful melodies and complicated, lush soundscapes and bitchin' guitar solos. No fluff, no filler, no mercy! Music is an experience! It should be listened to with a purpose! It shouldn't cost 99 cents a song because that is deceptively cheap until you've bought 80 songs in a row and bounce your rent check!

So imagine my embarrassment when I went to an Ozma show recently (the kindred band of Weezer, the patriarchs of indie) and the opening bands "cute is what we aim for" and "HelloGoodbye" got me tapping my feet and bobbing my head! If you are not familiar with these bands, turn on MTV. No, ha! ha! ha! This isn't a joke, I swear. I know they haven't played music videos since 1987, but if you wait until the commercial break between The Hills and Date my Mom, they often play a clip of some hot and trendy band. And it don't get trendier than hyper-synthed, cutesy-ironic dance music like HG. The kids went CRAZY for hellogoodbye, they knew every word and shrieked and wiggled and convulsed along.

Being a grizzled old cow, this kind of public display of enjoyment normally gets my goat. But that night, it was infectious. By the last song I was singing along (you know, the old "mumble the verses, scream the choruses" trick) and dancing in the confetti and balloons that poured down at the end. CONFETTI! My achilles heel! I can't ever say no to confetti. I'd like to see ANYONE try to frown when confetti is around. Hey, that's catchy. I should make that into a t-shirt.

So after the show I went out and bought their 4 song EP, even with two of the songs being remixes of each other. Normally remixes piss me off. They're like prequels and Wayans Brothers movies: generated purely from the blackest pits of human misery and greed. But I bought it anyway and played it all the time. Pretty soon I couldn't start my morning commute without "Shimmy Shimmy Quarter Turn". Inevitably, my morning fix wasn't enough and I had to move to harder shit... their full length album. I actually ponied up 10 dollars of my hard-earned Christmas gift iTunes cash for it! And I listen to it compulsively. I sing the keyboard parts. I bop, for cripes sake. What has happened to me? Aren't I the girl that wept at back-to-back Radiohead concerts?? No? Yeah, you're right. I'm the girl that spilled my beer on someone's head at the concert. Sorry! but seriously, who sits DOWN at a concert??

Back to the point...don't I swoon to Morrissey and scream with The Mars Volta?? (but not Sparta, blech. talk about bad end of the stick) I used to go to Black Flag concerts and pump my fist for political consciousness. Now I gyrate for power pop and dream of a world where every child gets more orange sherbert. sigh. I guess in this crazy MySpaced, blog-saturated, Bluetooth-enabled, reduced trans-fat world of fear and overexposure, I couldn't help but crave something sweet and simple.

YES! How good was that last sentence? Fuck yeah, it's Readers Digest Good! No, no, wait....National Public Radio Good. oooh, nice. anyway, moral of the story...go buy the new HelloGoodbye CD and also, start researching ways that I can earn money for schilling HelloGoodbye on my blog.