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The Shins: Not as popular as indies or cool

Natalie Portman a lot Pirucha is in the clinic waiting room with Zach "eldeScrubs" Braff. Just be aware, and she fits her discman headphones. "They will change your life," he says, just before having to listen to New Slang .
That was the first time I heard The Shins, a couple of years when I saw Garden State film, these "low budget" in Hollywood, leaving about 2 million dollars. The introduction of foggy New Slang be sifting through your ears, sooo little by little, until the voice of James Mercer begins, hypnotic: "gold teeth and a curse for this town Were all in my mouth ... ".


The Shins, a band originally from Albuquerque, New Mexico, consists of keyboardist Marty Crandall, bassist Dave Hernandez, Jesse Sandolval on drums and singer, guitarist and composer of all the material from The Shins, James Mercer. Four guys with a lot of pint of losers, or rather rare. Could be the four of The Big Bang Theory (which, incidentally, is very good).

The contract for the band's first album in 2001, came at the right time to Mercer, who was already resigned to having to go back to school for lack of musical success, and even told her parents, "this is my last attempt with the music. " Mercer
is carried on their backs with a long way, not only in music. He spent his childhood moving from one end of the planet to the other, inevitably the odd feeling, because of the work of his father, a colonel in the Air Force. So after returning to America, and is tanned in the case of the road, absorbing musical influences first hand the places where he lived, as happened with the Cure and the Smiths during their stay in England.

The germ of The Shins would be Mercer's former band, Flake, which later joined Sandoval and Crandall, impressed with the personality and talent of James. Without ambargo, the band did not last much longer. The new Mercer musical interests with his need to abandon the enforced manteniedo coming punk attitude led to a change of direction which would result in the formation of The Shins. Now Mercer, type and detail obsessive, definitely become the director of the orchestra, establishing itself as the undisputed frontman of the band.

Finally, Oh, Inverted World , the first (and my personal favorite) of the three albums by The Shins (then come Chutes Too Narrow in 2003 and most recently The Night Away wincing of 2007) , along with participation in the Garden State soundtrack , the propel to stardom, or at least all the fame to which can be driven a band that is classified as indie, and is proud of it.
According to Mercer, it's own originality which is not abundant in these times: "I think indie bands like us or Modest Mouse are becoming popular for the same reason that I bought a house in 1940. Growing up in the era of Wal-Mart and 7-Eleven, another supermarket chain, "which were the landscape of my childhood, makes you hungry for authenticity. There is something real out there who can buy, but you have to dig to find it. People are fed up falsehood.. "
And part of that to be true comes from the same creative process that gives rise to records by The Shins. The lyrics and melodies are infused with the melancholy and the feeling of not fitting in Mercer, as well as the specific circumstances in which the songs were written: wincing is a true example of this with its atmosphere even more somber and melancholic than previous records, reflecting seeing was going through difficult times tied to a job that did not like the separation from his girlfriend of the time and it was suffering from insomnia. And that darkness also contributes to the fact that he lived next to a crack house, which looked "like a pimp stick grinds to a toothless prostitute" during the composition of the disc.

However, when recording wincing , Mercer environment changed and moved to Portland (where he bought the former home of Elliott Smith, which shows off to visitors), while maintaining the method for making records that were used in the first two so successfully: it is in the singer's basement where the band is installed to record, an event that will take very quiet. Get rich sound textures, but relaxed atmosphere, which seek to create identical conditions in the study. The bassist of the band itself describes the "roots of the group as a stand and listen to Pink Floyd." Much to be lying on couches drinking beer and smoking dope at 5 am, they say, was basically what was treated OIW gestation process.

I do not know, says Natalie Portman, The Shins will change your life. But let's worth a try.

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5 Tracks

5 songs, half dumb but some of them make me be good.


1 - Mint Car - The Cure



2 - The World Is not Slowing Down - Paul Ellis



3 - The Boys Are Back In Town - Thin Lizzy



4 - What's The World Got In Store - Wilco



5 - A Friend Like You - Aberfeldy

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"A Love Song For Bobby Long" or "How the world conspired to keep naps"

Afternoon zapping. Bad sleeping lately come and know I have to sleep a half hour nap even if I intend to survive into the evening. So throw me in bed, remote in hand, and do a tour from one end to the program schedule to find a medium hair of those who always help me sleep.

Step by Hallmark Channel movies excellence pregnant teenage girls, and I stand there. The scene shows a group of men and girl together in a kind of backyard full of rubbish / waste ground, sitting in chairs half ruined, guitar and beer bottles around him. He who sits on the couch for two people and is telling a story about his childhood with the intention to embarrass the girl, is John Travolta, with his hair dyed blond, almost white. The girl is Scarlett Johansson.

And here I have to take a break. I like Scarlett Johansson bad. My friend Vicky tells me it's because I have anger. What is absolutely true. I can not stand it so cute. But mostly because it is pretty nice, "Valeria Mazza pretty." It is nice because it has a something. is beautiful "Scarlett Johansson pretty. "Ok, I admit. But my dislike for Johansson comes in a while. It comes from that movie I never knew what it was called, which makes the adolescent version of the little girl rebel Russian or Yugoslav or Czechoslovak left in your country home when his parents fled seeking the American dream, repatriating later and causing the Pibito never fit that western life. And more than anything else is seeing it in Scoop trying to be the innocent-friendly. Scarlett: Do not nobody believes it. Not so his character in Matchpoint , that we thought you all. (Yes, I know that many people, especially the male audience, which the mention of Scarlett begin to drool and stammer inconsistencies, they will disagree with me. Well, that's life.) Close parenthesis.

Well, one thing does not remove the other, and to see that I'm not resentful, here I have to give credit to Johansson, defunct for me many times. Obviously, it is unbearably cute. But also spontaneous and sincere and transparent. So for a while I like him.

As I took half the movie, I did not learn until after the end of what history would not even know the name. Again imdb.com contributed illustrative: A Love Song For Bobby Long (made soooo gooey missing name?), Johansson is Pursly, a girl whose mother, Lorraine, a singer herself and the victim of numerous vices, blurred throughout his childhood, having to grow up virtually alone. As expected, Pursly is a disaster. And when Lorraine dies, the girl is 18 and inherits the house she shared with two other men, Bobby (John Travolta, but how far is the horrible character he did in Grease that comes to my head every time you name it), a retired university professor charged with a story quite heavy on his back, and Lawson (Gabriel Match, and here we take a bit of revenge us) who was a student of Bobby, and fanatic, end up being his shadow and best friend. Pursly in order to preserve their heritage, is forced to move with the two boys, sick of the literature and wines, beers and virtually any flammable substance, to the house in New Orleans.

There are only two places in the U.S. that I'd like to meet: New York and New Orleans. And after seeing the film. Orange sunsets, willows, lakes, swamps, dark and rather dilapidated bars. And obviously the music. It is to breathe in the air there, the jazz and black music is so rooted in this land are inseparable (interesting soundtrack, well).

Al final no dormí un corno. Pero no fue una mala forma de pasar una tarde de frío, tapada hasta los ojos y viendo cómo se pone el sol en Nueva Orleans desde la cama.

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New book by Carlos Ruiz Zafon


Did you know that Carlos Ruiz Zafon has a new book? It is entitled "The Angel game" and will be released on the 17th of April. If only one bit of talent and knowledge have The old-style wind shadow, it is worth reading, reservadlo Now. For ye mouth, I included an excerpt from the book, rescued from the web World supplement. This promises ...

(placed anywhere it is prohibited to reproduce, if necessary, a mail sabiaisque@gmail.com enough to remove it from this website)


Act One: 'City of the Damned'

Intrigue, romance and tragedy. David Martin, a young man who lives to write mystery novels under a pseudonym, he receives an offer from a foreign publisher. From there he becomes involved in a plot hidden ambitions and crimes that lead the reader to an unexpected end and exultant.

That afternoon, hidden under her clothes so that my father did not see him, I took my new friend home. That was a fall of rain and days of lead during that read "Great Expectations" about nine times in a row, partly because he had another hand to read and partly because they thought that there might be a better one, and began to suspect that Don Carlos had written just for me. Soon I had the firm belief that wanted nothing in life to learn to do what he did that as Mr Dickens.

One morning I woke up suddenly shaken by my father, who returned to work early. His eyes were bloodshot and his breath smelled of liquor. He looked terrified, and he felt with the fingers bare bulb hanging from a cable.

"It's hot.

and I stared angrily threw the lamp against the wall. Exploded into a thousand pieces of glass fell on me face, but I dared not remove them.

- Where is it? - Said my father, cold and calm voice. I shook, trembling.

- Where is that fucking book?

I shook again. In the darkness just saw the blow coming. Felt who lost his sight and I fell out of bed, with blood on his mouth and an intense burning pain as white fire behind the lips. To tilt the head, I saw what I thought were pieces of a couple of broken teeth on the floor. The hand of my father grabbed me by the neck and lifted me.

- Where?

"Father, please ...

threw me face to the wall with all his might and hit in the head made me lose balance and collapsing like a sack of bones. I crawled into a corner and stayed there, curled up like a ball, watching my father opened the closet and pulled out the four pieces I had and threw them into the ground. Recorded drawers and chests without encountering the book until, exhausted, back to me. I closed my eyes and cringed against the wall, expecting another blow that never came. I opened my eyes and saw that my father was sitting on the bed, choking and crying shame. When she saw him looking, ran down the stairs. I heard the echo of their steps away in the silence of dawn, and only when I knew I was away I crawled into bed and pulled the book from its hiding place under the mattress. I dressed and with the novel under his arm, went out into the street.

A canvas of haze descended on Santa Ana street when I reached the door of the bookstore. The bookseller and his son lived on the first floor of the building. I knew six in the morning there were hours to call home for anyone, but my only thought at that time was to save that book, and I was certain that if my father was to return home as to shatter all the rage that was in his blood. I rang the bell and waited. I had to insist two or three times until I heard the balcony door open and saw the old Sempere, in a bathrobe and slippers, showed up and looked at me astonished. Half a minute later came down to open up and as soon as I saw his face all trace of anger evaporated. He knelt before me and held me by the arms.

- God! Are you okay? Who has done this?

-No. I crashed.

I handed him the book.

"I came to return it, I do not want to get away with it ... Sempere

looked at me without saying anything. I picked her up and I went to the floor. His son, a boy of 12 years so shy that I do not remember having ever heard his voice, had awakened to hear his father out and looked at the top of the landing. Seeing the blood on my face looked at him, startled.

"Call Dr. Campos.

The boy nodded and ran to the phone. I heard him speak and found he was not dumb. Between the two I settled into a dining chair and I cleaned the blood from wounds awaiting the arrival of the doctor.

- Are not you going to say who did this to you? Do not open her mouth. Sempere not know where she lived and would not give him ideas.

- Was it your father?

I looked away.

-No. I crashed.

Dr. Campos, who lived four or five portals there, arrived in five minutes. He examined me from head to foot, feeling the bruises and cuts heal so gently as he could. It was clear that his eyes were burning with indignation, but said nothing.

"No fractures, although a few bruises and sore last few days. These two teeth will be removed. They are pieces missing and no risk of infection.

When the doctor left, Sempere prepared me a glass of warm milk with cocoa and watched me drink, smiling.

"All this to save 'Great Expectations', eh? I shrugged. Father and son looked at each other with a knowing smile.

"The next time you save a workbook, save it for real, do not play in life. Tell me and I'll take you to a secret place where the books never die and nobody can destroy.

I looked at them, puzzled.

- What place is that? Sempere

winked and gave me that mysterious smile that seemed stolen from a serial of Don Alejandro Dumas and they said, was a family brand.

"All in good time, my friend. All in good time.

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Only Guys (and Mex )

Hace unos días me acordaba del For Fai y recurrí esperanzada a Youtube, a ver si aparecía alguna punta de lo que era ese enorme programa. Y sí, obvio, encontré algunas cosas. Youtube se está convirtiendo en el gran soporte de los programas de culto de los que nos acordamos con nostalgia. Yo tenía menos de 10 años en esa época, There are lots of things I overlooked. But after watching these videos, again all. For Fai

The world was very bizarre. Filled with mini professional opinólogos, workers, housewives, etc. they seem like great guys but speak, that world was like stuck somewhere in the 50, run by the political leader / owner corporaciónForFai (which here would mean something like "The System"), Orwell For Fai. We never knew exactly who was also a large owner of Everything. But he had his spokesman, Mario Podesta (the always well-judged Urtizberea Mex). And a whole political propaganda machine at your service in a world that seemed full industrial development, trade unions and militant movements included (such as the Anarchist Movement Empanadas Manufacturers). A whole universe was the world well completito For Fai.

a lovey-dovey concept, no? More if you consider it was a program for kids that were going on cablin (but later went to America and Cs), which also was also made by young children between 6 and 15 years all of them capable of mopping no difficulty to any pigeon Cris Morena if talent is concerned. It was all improvisation as the purrete: a couple of guidelines for the scene, and then to air.

So for nostalgic as who writes or for those who never even heard of the existence of Magazine For Fai, here's a sample of how it was all about. As Mario said, we vamossssss, back (below).


With talkshow and everything: "Table with People"





(It is evident that they were sometimes burned some of the kids.'s Sent to the TV so you do not break in the house.)




A classic Bellini, the corporate mentalist

(with respect to the title: I'm very bad, horrible, to select titles, so we often use songs or phrases. "Boys only" is not very good say, but considering I could have used other songs like "Let the children come," which I chose the break. Also in the summer passed in a recital of Fito Back at the Grand Rex in 90 of those good times Third World, and is a version made with Kuryaki Illia, a pair of sheep at that time, who redeemed the song.)

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Theories

Theory 1: When you have certain things in common with other people, certain tastes, such as books, music, movies and stuff, the world becomes less than a scarf. They may have the same records at home than go mad, compulsively watch the same TV series, stacking the same books in their libraries and more than likely, you'll find them everywhere.

and support what I say, speaking wisely Rob ( High Fidelity): "I Agree That What Really Matters Is What You Like, Not What You are like. Books, records, films, These Things matter. Call me shallow But it's the fuckin 'truth. " ("I agreed that what really matters is what you like, not what you are. Books, CDs, movies, these things matter. Call me superficial, but it's the damn truth. ")

Theory

100% confirmed empirically for me, I have a list of names and situations that prove it.

Theory 2: If you guys like Hendrix would have survived longer than they lived, the world had exploded. Directly. They were simply too talented, too sensitive and too good to stand here, or better, that this bear with them doing their stuff (bottle, if Hendrix did made on, rounded up, 5 years, what we would expect if still a couple of decades.) Anyway, they never grow old. Janis I can not imagine dying in a hospital at 80, surrounded by grandbabies. It had to be making noise.

Theory 2 Bis

The exception to the rule, there always has to be Dylan. The most logical thing would have been for espicha in the motorcycle accident to 66, which remain frozen in the poster of the musician consumed by the excesses of rock, and topping up her life with a Blonde on Blonde . Pearl Janis Type (post mortem records are always well in these cases). Lacked nothing to the myth, even at that time.

But no. Just endured (and suddenly disappear after a long time, and to leave everyone with the desire, revives from the ashes. Okay, the movie. Evil tongues say that in fact the accident was not anything serious, who used to disappear from the scene for a while. If it was a move of the press, how good it was.). Luckily for us, obviously. Thinking that we had lost Nashville Skyline, New Morning , the tremeeeendos latest albums, BLOOD ON THE TRACKS! I find it just awful, he did not think. Discussing

the subject with my friend Charlie, he said "is that Dylan is God." I would say that rather than being God, what the guy did was sell his soul to the devil. Much more likely.

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One Today

"thrash / black metal / Christian rap" classify themselves the Vetiver on your Myspace page. But nothing to see. In fact, if you have to put them in one of the bags of gender, would in that of the new folk. But I really like tags, so it does not matter.

I have little time to develop, just throw me the recommendation and pico: To Find Me Gone, Vetiver's second album, band led by Andy Cabic who walked these payments last year, played in The Hidden Folk Nuevos Aires for 2007 and have a great fan of our drummer Luis Alberto Spinetta. And the rest, go figure listening to the disc here.