Organic Schmorganic.

"You're coming off kind of contrived and pretentious.
You're not saying anything we haven't heard before."
- Against Me!, "Don't Lose Touch"

There are two things that I am unable to deal with in this world: pomposity and pretentiousness. And God help the person who displays both with equal aplomb, because my wrath is far-sighted and narrow-minded. The people who fall into these categories include "indie" foreign film devotees, Whole Foods proprietors, most Saab owners, and anyone who thinks that a band's b-sides are superior to anything they put on an actual record. Also, people who constantly misuse the word "organic." Allow me to focus in on this last breed for the remainder of this rant.

Organic can be used to define food, chemistry, and the French law known as Organic Articles. Aside from that, it's not to be used. So the next time that I hear some hipster doofus on a behind-the-scenes film commentary refer to the production process as "being so organic," I'm taking a knife and going straight through the TV screen. I hear this all the time and it genuinely makes me vomit in my mouth. It wouldn't be quite as bad if I didn't hear the word being tossed around like a hot potato during an Irish famine, but the fact that every actor, director, writer, producer, third lighting backdrop engineer, and whoever else feels the need to drop this already trite line every time someone asks them a simple question about their movie...well, it makes me hate cinema just a little bit more each time.

The following phrases involving the word are to be abandoned immediately: "the idea came out of me so organically...", "it was really organic how it was filmed...", "the actors meshed together in a very organic way...", and worst of all, "the verbiage in that scene grew organically out of conversations from my own life."

Fuck you all, destroyers of the English language. Douches of the cinematic world. Stop organic-isming at the sound of your own pretentious schlock. This type of speak does NOT make you an intellectual, nor does it make anyone any more impressed with your uncanny ability to direct a shirtless Matthew McConaughey on how to elongate his syllables. So please, find a new phrase to demean with your hypocrisy and arrogance.

Pompous pricks.


This Entry In Song:
Foo Fighters - "Wind Up"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

The Song You Hear Before You Die.

"Well I wonder which song they're gonna play when we go.
I hope it's something quiet and minor and peaceful and slow.
When we float out into the ether, into the Everlasting Arms...
...Did you hear the old gospel choir when they came to carry you over?
Did you hear your favorite song one last time?"
- The Gaslight Anthem, "The '59 Sound"

I was listening to my MP3 player on the subway, as I often do on my way home from work, letting the music sweep through my head and clear the cobwebs out after a long day. Not thinking, just listening. And then some grim lyrics started to stab at my brain, making themselves difficult to ignore. It was the above mentioned lyrics from The Gaslight Anthem's "The '59 Sound," which begs the question: what do you hear just before you die?

When you see the clouds part and a bright light floods your vision, the warm embrace of the afterlife severing your connection to the world, is it nothing but silence? The optimistic part of me wants to believe that everyone has the choice of what they hear before departing. A pre-death playlist, if you will. You get to hear one--maybe two--songs of your choosing, so that like a movie soundtrack, your life receives the perfect sonic conclusion. A musical summarization.

Disregarding the obvious--which would include preferential hints on which way you want to go, such as "Stairway to Heaven" or "Highway to Hell"--the decision would be tough. What's the last song you'd want to hear...ever? It really sheds light on the type of music that is important to a person. I mean, would you really want to hear Weezer's "Buddy Holly" or Kanye's "Gold Digger" if it was going to be the last thing you ever heard? Personally, if the theory that your life flashes before your eyes holds any water, I'd like to listen to something that would fit with that montage. Perhaps Simon & Garfunkel's "The Sound of Silence" could gently blend into Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" as my slideshow played out.

The more I think of it, though, the easier the decision becomes. I would want to hear the one song that could give me chills for the last time. The song that I could hear a thousand times on repeat without giving in to nausea. I'd want to hear "Everlong" by the Foo Fighters. Not only is it a fitting tune to float along with, but it's the greatest song I've ever had the pleasure of listening to. And as the credits roll on Jacob Trowbridge, I'd like "Everlong" to accompany me into the beyond.


This Entry In Music
Foo Fighters - "Everlong"
The Gaslight Anthem - "The '59 Sound"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

The Los Angeles Metro Ruins My Life.

"I almost broke my neck tryin' to get out the door. And I chased the bus 'til my feet was sore. On the trail--the tail--but I couldn't catch up. I guess it must have been my day for me to have bad luck."
- Kris Kross, "I Missed the Bus"

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank the Los Angeles County Metro Transit for making everyday an adventure and an overall pain in my neck. (And by neck, I mean ass.) Because of the "well-timed" and "not-at-all random" timetable that your aptly-named "Dash" system provides, riders get the thrill of chasing down a bus that wasn't supposed to show up for another 5 minutes, or waiting for a bus that was marked to stop half an hour earlier.

"Maybe it runs on Central time..."

When I think fun, I think L.A. Metro.

Because it just wouldn't be Los Angeles if you could only sit next to a homeless man that smells like stale farts and old hats while being on time for work. No, in L.A. you only get the pleasure of hearing Toothless Paul rant about the obvious connections between Jesus Christ and Sponge Bob Square Pants after having sprinted for the 6:45 bus at 6:29. If you're extra lucky, you may get the bus driver whose mother didn't love him enough and therefore won't stop for you even while you chase after him. Then you can just walk the 4 miles to work.

Warning: This Bus Does Not Stop For Passengers

Los Angeles Metro Transit, fuck you very much. I hope your drivers all die of terrible hemhorroids.


This Entry In Song
Modest Mouse - "Missed the Boat"
Against Me! - "Stop!"
Gym Class Heroes - "Catch Me If You Can"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

An Open Letter to Eve 6.

"I quit lookin' at the clock. It'll only bring me down and it won't bring you here.
If I pulled out all the stops and a little less of my hair, could I bring you here?"
- Eve 6, "Without You Here"

Dear Eve 6,

Guys. Pals. Slutty gentleman of the pop-punk world. You know why I'm doing this and you know that it's necessary. You've finally finished your too-long hiatus as a band and are now beginning to play some gigs together again. But I noticed that you aren't going to be playing near L.A. What's up with that? Am I not deserved of your terrific rock show? Let me explain to you, in depth, why that's just not true...

Our relationship started out as most of mine do. I heard your song on the radio, I sang along with it, and then danced around my feelings for you for quite awhile. I wasn't sure if I could fully give myself to you as a fan, but was willing to do a casual listen. Nothing too involved, just playing the field and sewing my musical oats. After all, I had other bands in my sights, too. But then I caved and made a mixed CD of your catchiest pop gems and had them drifting around my ears every time I got into my car. You reeled me in and wrapped me up in catchy hooks, creative wordplay, and a rapid-fire delivery. I finally declared my musical love for you by becoming a diehard fan, ready and willing to take a bullet for the band if ever a harsh word was shot in your direction. And what did you do, just as my feelings for you grew to be the strongest they had ever been? You broke it off without so much as a warning of things to come. It was "Think Twice" and then it was quits. No more Eve 6.

I spent years trying to get over you. I stopped listening to you on a regular basis, only putting you in the playlist if I wanted some delusional touch of nostalgia. I met other bands--Anberlin even sought to replace you completely. And now, all of sudden, you're back in my life and back together as a band. You simply can't toy with a man's heart like that. It's not fair.

But I'll be damned if I can't stop thinking of what could have been. What it would have been like if our relationship hadn't been put on hold for those couple of years. Well, I'm tired of wondering. I want to see you again, but I can't have it be in the canned tunes of another one of your albums; it has to be in person. So that I can know if this is for real. I need closure.

The easiest way to settle this would be a concert setting. It might be good to have a lot of other people around to save us from the awkward silences if things didn't quite mesh between us. And let's not make any eye contact, either. Because, to be honest, you seem like kind of a sleazeball. No offense.

Come to Los Angeles. Let's make things right. What do you say?

This Entry In (Your) Song:
Eve 6 - "Without You Here"
Eve 6 - "Anytime"
Eve 6 - "How Much Longer"
Eve 6 - "Sunset Strip Bitch"
Eve 6 - "Promise"
Eve 6 - "Still Here Waiting"


P.S. If you do perform here, please don't play "Here's to the Night." That song is pretty gay.

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

My Very Own Album (...Not Available On iTunes)

No foreboding quote. No fancy lead-in about some special situation that recently happened in my life. Just a make-believe album cover, inspired by this Album Generator game that I stole from Nick Kocher's blog (who himself stole it from someone else).

It cured a few minutes of boredom and killed some of my spirit. Good times!


Good, clean, slightly depressing fun. For the uninitiated, it's easy to make your own album cover. Just follow these simple steps:

1) Go to a random Wikipedia page: Random Article
The first article that comes up is the NAME of your band.

2) Go to a random quotation: Random Quotation
The last four or five words of the very last quote on the page is the TITLE of your album.

3) Go to flickr's Last 7 Days: Last Seven
The third picture, no matter what it is, if your album COVER.

Repeat, if necessary.


If you liked this entry, feel free to stop by next week when I take a picture of myself kicking someone else's dog, then turn that photo into a mural and hire someone to paint it on the wall of my kitchen.


Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

Long Live The Summer of Live Music!

"By the time we got to Woodstock,
We were half a million strong
Everywhere you look there was a song and hope and a celebration."
- Joni Mitchell, "Woodstock"

It’s concert season, people. And that means music! And what else? More music! Coming from Iowa, concert season isn’t exactly the most spectacular time of the year. Generally, it just means that we’ll be getting regular visits from early 90's alternative has-beens (hello Gin Blossoms) and mid-80's pop-rockers (how do you do, Loverboy?). It’s not usually a Grammy Award-winning list of artists that’s flocking to the Dubuque County Fair.

But this year I’m going to take full advantage of living in California and get my rear in every front-row seat possible. I’ve scoured the lengths of the Internet to get some live music flowing through my veins and I’m determined to take it all in before it’s time to head back home. And luckily for me, SonicLiving has made it much easier for me to organize which of my favorite musicians have shows coming up.

For anyone who's interested, here is my summer concert wishlist.

The highlights will definitely be Rufus Wainwright, Jack's Mannequin, and--bum bum BAH--Anberlin!

It's going to be a great summer, everyone!


This Entry In Music:
Blink 182 - "Rock Show"
Plain White T's - "Sing My Best"
The Gaslight Anthem - "Great Expectations"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

BriTANick: Infinitely Amazing.

"Don't bring any cocaine or hookers to my party."
- Brian of BriTANick, Taint Monopoly Sketch

Tonight I had the privilege of viewing a top-notch, first rate, premium quality, 100 Proof comedy act known as BriTANick (which rhymes with Titanic for proper pronunciation) at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater. For the second time in one week. And both times were well worth the cheap admission.

Though I've never been much for sketch comedy outside the basic realm of Saturday Night Live or, at my artsy limit, The State, these two guys (Brian McElhaney and Nick Kocher) have shed much light on the endless possibilities that exist for pure laughs when a couple of guys act silly on stage. I've seen their newest show, The Infinity Prison--which meshes themes of time travel, friendship, cocaine, time cops, clones, cocaine sales, and the insult "chicken faggot" seamlessly--twice thus far, and would gladly pay another $5 to see their happy-go-lucky shenanigans a third time. Sadly, BriTANick rarely makes it out to the West Coast, so I may have to wait a long time before I get the pleasure of seeing their faces again.

But for those of you who live in or near New York, take advantage of them. Watch them! See them! Enjoy them! Make sweet, comedic love to them in your minds!

In the meantime, for the benefit of anyone who hasn't seen or heard of these guys, I take you to my favorite clip from their sketch comedy website. It's basically a snapshot of everything I love about their humor smooshed into a single clip.



There's plenty more where that came from at BriTANick.com.


Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake

Fast Fact #7

The concept of sleep sounds like something out of a science-fiction novel. Try explaining the idea behind it to a child and see what they say.

"So basically Jimmy, you close your eyes and let your brain slip into a deep state of unconsciousness for several hours. During this time you don't talk, you lay stoic, lifeless, and stay generally inactive. When you wake up, you feel recharged and better than you did before you started. If you don't do this every night, you can become very sick."

There are less creepy explanations for crop circles.

Everything In Transit, Except the Glass Passenger.

"Fuck yeah, we can live like this."
- Jack's Mannequin, "Holiday From Real"

Long before I packed my belongings and left the isolation booth that is the Midwest, before I ever came into direct contact with the ocean, I had dipped my toes into the sandy saltwater of the West Coast via one very important album: Jack’s Mannequin’s “Everything In Transit.” It let me live in California before I ever stepped outside of the cornfields and cold winters. I blame this album for making my last automobile get smashed in the face by a truck (who wasn’t playing anything nearly as cool as this album and, in a jealous fit of rage, succeeded in taking care of my car for good). Yeah, it’s that awesome.

What happens when you listen to awful music.

Everything In Tranist made me feel warm on days where temperatures dipped below zero. Each song depicted a different sunset that I could drive into while I actually drove toward a ranch-style house on a grassy hill. When I listened to that record, I could actually feel the sand between my toes and see a version of Santa Monica Boulevard that was much more satisfying than any street could ever be.

And more than two years after I first listened to it, I found myself on California’s doorstep, looking for the very things that Jack’s Mannequin had promised. I continue to seek them out like a checklist.


Everything In Transit is littered with lyrics that appear as deja vu, as if I’d already written them down in my own mental journal. Whether it be from the start of my time out here (“oh, California in the sun and my hair is growing long. Fuck yeah, we can live like this”) or from a time more recent (“on Third Street the freakshow thrives. Santa Monica’s alive but something’s not so right inside”), every song targets my experience in a different way. It’s even made some predictions about it. So far, it has predicted a mini-vacation (“the road we drove last night stretched from the desert to Las Vegas”), my encompassing sense of boastfulness (“there’s so much sun where I’m from, I had to give it away”), an impending near-future (“you’ll give up your job at the bank, proving money’s not fun when you’re gone”), and possible circumstances if we were to extend our stay (“I never thought that I’d be living on your floor, but rent’s are high and L.A.’s easy”).

Everything In Transit brings in the sunshine. Their second album, The Glass Passenger, sends in the rain.

The Glass Passenger is the dark to Everything In Transit’s daylight. The stormy skies to its puffy clouds. After having lived “the California dream” for a few months, I caught wind of the new album. I waited with baited breath to hear the latest rays of sunshine come out of the lead singer’s mouth; to be in the moment with the record and feel a connection in a way that I hadn’t been able to with the first album. That moment didn’t come. Because it seems that by the time I was able to live the dream, Jack’s Mannequin had already swept it up and tossed it in the nearest garbage bin. I listened to the stream of disenchanted lyrics and wondered how long it might take for me to feel the same way about this place. How long until I say “I don’t think that I’ll close my eyes, ‘cause lately I’m not dreaming. So what’s the point in sleeping?” How long until my motto becomes that of the song Swim: “I swim to brighter days despite the absence of sun. Choking on salt water, not giving in. I swim?” Or latch onto the words of Suicide Blonde as I become homesick: “Watched the planes landing from the roof of my treehouse in Burbank. I had that dream I was taking off...” Could that ever be me? It’s a question of following your hopes and relishing the small things that make life emanate sunlight or sinking into the big picture and falling victim to doubts and disenchantment. The light side or the dark side? Good...evil?

All that I can do is continue enjoying the lifestyle that California has to offer, so that when I return to the Midwest, I can say that I lived this one year to the fullest. No regrets. Hopefully, in the end, I will still relate most to that first album of good times and sandy beaches. Hopefully, everything will remain in transit.


This Entry In Song:
THE SUN: Jack's Mannequin - "I'm Ready"
THE RAIN: Jack's Mannequin - "Annie Use Your Telescope"

Be Back Soon,
Shaky Jake