Bitter Bites A Rack of Resentful Ribs Minneapolis The ribs at this poorly named fictitious restaurant tasted raw and resentful, just like me, now that Music & Food is dead.
Central BBQ Pulled pork, ribs Memphis Something I noticed driving through the south is that barbecue joints, as advertised, are everywhere. In small towns, in strip malls, behind gas stations on the side of the highway. And by most accounts, you can't really go wrong; if it's smoked, it's generally good. But one of the more highly touted eateries in Memphis is Central BBQ, located in a semi-hip (but not quite) residential neighborhood a couple miles away from downtown. While by no means a behemoth or a chain, Central is certainly more than a hole in the wall, with an indoor and outdoor seating area, its own parking lot, and plenty of literature on its catering, cross-country BBQ shipment services, and various 'green' initiatives. No, it's not a behemoth, but it certainly knows its place on the hierarchy of Memphis BBQ joints (and that place is: high). The service was fast and friendly, the seating was limited (I actually shared a table with a family in town from Maine), and the BBQ was every bit as good as hoped (vinegar sauce!). Nice. That said, my experience helped inform one of my new BBQ maxims (yep, I've got maxims now!), which is that there are many subtly different BBQ's in this nation of ours, some better than others, but no one is superior. Here I was, in Memphis, a true barbeque mecca, wholly satisfied and happily impressed, but not transformed. Is there BBQ plateau? I think there might be. A point at which BBQ is simply perfect, and can get no better. Atop this plateau, you'll find dozens, hundreds, of variations and options, but the quality of each is essentially equal, a matter of personal taste. Yeah, Central BBQ was great, and I'm glad I went there, and you should too should you ever be in Memphis, but there is nothing inherent in Memphis that makes it's, or Kansas City's or Dallas' or Raleigh's, BBQ any better than our own.
Mr. D's Country Store Fried chicken buffet Vicksburg Did you know that Greg Maddux, over the span of his four straight Cy Young winning seasons, had an era of 1.98? Is that not incredible? And to watch Greg Maddux pitch, you'd think nothing of it. He didn't overpower, he didn't get cute. He just pitched exactly how a pitcher is supposed to. And he was unbeatable. The connection I'm going to make here should be obvious: The fried chicken at Mr D's, a highly praised little southern cookin' buffet located in a former country store in a practically non-existent town on the side of a highway in western Mississippi, tastes exactly like fried chicken should taste. Not flashy, not cute. It is the Greg Maddux of fried chicken. And it's almost enough to make you cry.
Special attention must be paid to the owner of this place, Mr. D himself. This guy is the definition of personality, to the extent that I fear his employees constantly want to smack him. He's probably there every hour of every day they're open, cooking, bringing food out the buffet, and talking to every single person eating there. Those who wanted to talk to him more, he gave them all the time they wanted, talked about cooking, talked about his recipes. No secrets. Those like me, who just were enjoying their food, he gave a very pleasant greeting to, and let us eat. The line I kept hearing from him was, "It's all you can eat, don't feel bad for the cook!" He's just one of those people. Even if the chicken wasn't the most beloved in all of Mississippi (which it is), people would still come to this place.
(Oh, and they had amazing potato salad, too. And amazing cole slaw. And amazing black eyed peas. And did I mention pork ribs and chicken fried pork chops? Cornbread was a little dry, though).
Cotham's Catfish, Cheeseburger Little Rock Little Rock, I quickly learned with a little online research, is not a food town. "It's the south," you'd think, "there's gotta be great places!" Not really. But the one that everyone, including William Jefferson Clinton himself, recommends, is Cotham's. Located in a broke down old antique store 10 miles outside the city, Cotham's is famous for their cheeseburgers. I guess Man Vs. Food recently filmed something there, so they get a lot of people like me coming through. But when I was there, I just didn't feel like a burger. So instead, to the confusion and surprise of the waitress, I ordered the catfish. If Arkansas has a food specialty, it's catfish. And while I'm never one to order it, or fish of any kind, I figured 'when in Rome,' right? It was fine. I have no gauge to judge catfish by, but it the breading was nice, crispy, but the fish had a weird mushy, fatty texture. I think that's not abnormal for catfish, which is a bit of a garbage fish as far as I know. The onion rings, however, were fantastic. Some of the best onion rings I've ever had. Just perfect onion rings. Wonderful. Yet still a voice nagged deep inside me: What about the burger? Their burger is famous. Everyone goes there for it. I would never be back, right? So I got one to go! To be honest, I ate half of it in the car before I even left the parking lot. It was, I must admit, fabulous. Flavorful, with herbs and salt atop the melted cheese. And served with only mayo and brown mustard. I've eaten very few burgers without ketchup, but they specifically gave me brown mustard, so that's all I used. It was great. And then I got the heck out of Little Rock.
Ted Drewes Frozen custard St. Louis I've decided I like frozen custard better than ice cream. Really. So of course I had to go to this Ted Drewes place in St. Louis, which everyone from the area just looooooves. So I stopped in one of the two locations and got a big ol' pile of custard topped with pecans, chocolate, and caramel. I can't say it was any better than any other frozen custard I've had (Liberty's and Glaciers' in particular), but it was just as good. But I think part of Drewes' appeal is the atmosphere. It's a cruddy old building in parking lot of a cruddy old neighborhood. The sign is hand painted, the menus are photo copied, and all the employees seem to give a damn. Everyone gets their custard at the window, and stands around the parking lot eating it. Cheesy as it sounds, it's truly a neighborhood place, where everyone goes no matter what part of the city their from, how much money they make, what they do, blah blah blah. Later in the week a lady working at the hotel where I returned my rental car saw my Ted Drewe's cup and chided me for not bringing some for everyone. I guess the people of St. Louis truly love Ted Drewes.
Zia's Meatball Sandwitch St. Louis The Hill. An Italian neighborhood in St. Louis that, unlike other Italian neighborhoods I've visited in Providence, Boston and New York, actually feels like a neighborhood, as opposed to some sort of Sicilian theme park. I didn't do my research beforehand, so my choice of eating was random, and I picked Zia's. As long as they had toasted ravioli, a St. Louis specialty, I'd be happy. So I had them along with a meatball sandwich. It was all good. Rich, hearty, a bit sweet, very red saucy and beefy. Not spectacular, but good. I left happy. There are probably better places to go in The Hill (A telling sign: the walls were adorned with newspaper articles and Best Of St. Louis awards... mostly from around 1994), but I'd bet there are also worse. Unfortunately I was unable to try any St. Louis style pizza in my short time there, a thin, crispy crust with a regional processed cheese called provel. But from what I've read, I'm not missing much.
Artopolis Roast lamb leg Chicago I'm currently staying the night in a hostel above a Greek restaurant in the Greektown neighborhood of Chicago. No joke. So I have to have some Greek food for dinner, right? The running joke about Greektown, as far as I could tell from my brief scans through Chowhound, is that all the restaurants in Greektown share the same kitchen. They're all apparently good, but just very similar. And walking down the street here, I really get that vibe. Lots of white table cloths. Lots of blue and white. Lots of logos designed around 1988. The one I chose, Artopolis, is supposedly a newer, fresher take. It actually touts itself as a bakery, and the best comparison I can make is French Meadow. It has both a bakery counter and full dining service. It has a big menu with everything from light sandwiches to full entrees. It has many deserts. And most of all, like French Meadow, I ordered the most expensive thing on the menu and it was... okay. I was expecting a bone-in lamb shank, and got slices. And they were a bit dry. But the sauce, a light tomato and mint based number, was great, as were the roasted vegetables (squash, zucchini, and red pepper? Get original, Artopolis!). I had a desert, as well, a sort of lemon custardy thing inside a phyllo dough shell. It would've been great if it was chilled, but they... microwaved it?. As far as I can tell, they did. So Artopolis did everything they could to ruin my meal, and I probably payed about $5 too much, but I still left satisfied. Now if only this hostel would turn their AC up a bit!
Gion Bun bo hue New Hope The best compliment I can give Gion, as backhanded as it may sound, is that it in no way stands out from any Vietnamese noodle/soup place you could find on Nicollet's Eat Street. "Geez, Steve, that's pretty mean." No! What I mean is that Gion, a tiny little place in hidden strip mall in New Hope, could go head to head with any of those places. It's not any better than them, but it's certainly not worse. And for being the lone Vietnamese restaurant in New Hope (and one of the few in the western suburbs), I think that's amazing! And it's only a few blocks away from Fat Nats! New Hope: foodie paradise?
Wise Acre Vanilla Custard South Minneapolis Oh my god somebody finally did something right. I haven't eaten a meal here yet, only a custard sundae, but I'm feeling warm all over from the simple fact that the people behind Wise Acre have taken an opportunity, and knocked it out of Proverbial Park. I mean, how often does this actually happen? Liberty Custard was sitting on a goldmine, and their hearts were in the right place, but they just didn't quite have there wherewithal (or capital) to turn their amazing building and almost-amazing custard into the institution it should've been. So they close, and I'm frightened. The potential was through the roof. And someone easily could've waltzed in, knocked down the building and built a giant CVS Pharmacy. Or turned it into a yoga studio. Or a real estate office. Or something else that does nobody any good. But as we now know, the nice people (read: yuppies with taste) over at Tangletown Gardens bought the space, bought a farm, and made Wise Acre. And by golly they did it right! I mean, everything: The building is practically untouched, save for a perfectly considered sign. The landscaping is (obviously) pristine. The new outdoor furniture is classy but fun, and they kept Liberty's funky turf seating area. And best of all, along with their local/organic/fresh/grass-fed dinner menu, they have dirt cheap sandwich and hot dog options. And custard! The same machines Liberty used, only with (most likely) better ingredients. And they kept the take out window! You can go right up and get a two dollar cup of delicious frozen custard, fancy toppings and everything. What they've done, which seems so easy and yet leaves me without any other restaurant to compare it to (the closest I can think of is the Town Talk, RIP), is welcome everybody. The neighbors that just want a cheap cup of custard like they used to get at Liberty? Here you go! The neighbors who want a $20 plate of organic, scratch made new American cuisine? Have a seat! The kids who want to be loud and eat hot dogs and be annoying? There's a spot over there with Astroturf! The couple celebrating their anniversary? Have some wine! I'm gushing, without having eaten any actual food there, because I'm just in awe of it on a conceptual level. I can't think of anything like it. And as far as I can tell, they're pulling it off. My only worry is that they seem to have jumped right into it, at full steam. They put a ton of money into this place. The furniture is expensive. The menu is huge. No corners were cut, and no expense was spared. They have their own farm, for cripes sake! This thing, come winter, could easily nosedive, leaving us with a vacant white tile gas station yet again. But then at least the nice people of Tangletown could finally have another yoga studio nearby.
Las Teresitas Tacos South Minneapolis It's a genuine Nokomis food find! Las Teresitas! In the skeevy strip mall at the end of 34th Avenue where it hits 62! They've got al pastor! They've got asada! Lengua! Tripa! (Read: Tongue! Intestine!). They've got real mexican cheese! They've got a salsa bar with about 8 different salsas (arbol chile and garlic is the frontrunner) and all the chips you can eat! Homemade mole, richer and more layered than Dominguez's! Daily specials! Friendly staff! A welcoming and helpful owner! It's like you've traveled south of the border (or at least north to Lake Street)! And it's a dump! But not too much of a dump! I mentioned this on Facebook, but: Please eat there so it doesn't go out of business. I'd like at least another two months with it.
Compeneros Burrito Park Rapids Back when she lived up north, Libby worked at this Mexican restaurant called "Compeneros". Although it might have been called something else back then. There was a lawsuit involved. But Compeneros is one of the 3 or 4 restaurants in the town of Dorset, MN, which, with a population that hovers around zero, holds the record for 'most restaurants per capita' in the US. No joke. The restaurant is located on its own street, called "Fajita Loop," if that says anything about the scope of this town. So anyway, the point is, I finally got to eat there this weekend, and it was way better than it needed to be. I was expecting the most half-assed, unseasoned ground beef and velveeta cheese, flavorless Ortega salsa, all that stuff. But it was actually pretty good! Spicy homemade salsa, flavorful barbacoa, verde sauce. It was all there, and huge, and very tasty. Sure, it wasn't real Mexican (see above), but it was a heck of a lot better than a handful of places you could go to down here. And their kitchen manager is the mayor!
Big Daddys Barbeque Pulled pork, rib tips St. Paul Big Daddy's, on the corner of University and Dale in a skanky little corner of St. Paul, won "Best Barbeque" in the City Pages Best of 2011 this year. Good for them. But as I've discovered, opinions about barbeque are even sketchier than opinions on politics. Everyone has their own dogma, everyone has their own expectations, and everyone is just so goddamn sure they're right. I'll read four reviews a BBQ joint and not even be sure they're writing about the same place. I'm as guilty as anyone, defending Ted Cooke's like it's the fucking Ron Paul of barbeque. But just as many people eat Cooke's and say, "meh, not as good as Roosters," or "That's not barbeque! It's all sauce!" Seriously, what other cuisine has people staunchly arguing about its very definition? ("It's about the meat!" "It's about the sauce!" "It should only be smoked!" "It should be smoked then grilled!" "Pickles are for socialists!") Anyway, my point is that from here on in I'm not going to go into new barbeque joints with expectations, like I did today at City Pages Award Winning Big Daddy's. And it worked, because despite me not thinking it's the "best" I've had, it was certainly not bad. The pulled pork was a little thin and seemed to have been sitting for a while, but it tasted good and was still somewhat juicy. Plus they served it with pickles! Score! I could easily imagine someone complaining about them because of this or that, but screw it. I ate it and enjoyed it. Cole slaw: good enough. Baked beans: unique. And delicious. On my way out, I grabbed a to go order of rib tips (because how can I judge a place without eating the ribs?), and they were perfect. I'd imagine the ribs here are excellent based on the tips, and I'd definitely order them next time I'm there instead of the sandwich. The sauce is good, but nothing special. They serve everything dry, however, and claim on their website that sauce "is only used to cover up mistakes." I disagree. And the cycle continues.
Taco Taxi Tacos al pastor y carne asada South Minneapolis Do this: Go to to the Midtown Farmers Market on a Saturday morning/afternoon (take the train!), find the cruddy little yellow cart marked "Taco Taxi," and give them your money. Classic pork al pastor and carne asada tacos, two bucks a pop, with cilantro and onions and radish and a lime wedge, a dab of hot salsa. Thank me later.
Chevys Enchiladas and stuff Bloomington Hi Andrew and Sarah. Thanks for reading my music and food blog. The food part of it, at least. I realized I haven't updated it in a week or two, so I thought I'd fill you in briefly on Chevys. I mean, you're pretty much the only people that read it, so I haven't exactly been getting emails about how it hasn't been updated. And I know you don't really need to be filled in on Chevys, nor do you want to be. But the point is, Chevys is that big lame Mexican restaurant across from the MOA (and there has been one sitting vacant downtown for a good 3-4 years now). I went there yesterday after getting a flat on my bike and not being able to ride away from it before it sucked me in. I mostly just wanted to watch the NBA finals game that was on. So I got a 3-piece combo, with an enchilada, a chimichanga, and a couple flautas. It was terribly expensive, but at least there were leftovers, right? Actually it wasn't the worst Mexican food ever; better than a Chi Chi's, and probably Don Pablos. But here's the weirdest thing: The flautas came with a "jalepeno jelly." I've had jalepeno jelly before, but this was something different. It was a sweet sugary syrup, with a vague hint of jalepenoness, like dipping your flautas into General Tsos sauce or something. Really weird. But I have to admit it was kind of good. Addictive, even. Anyway, the point is, if you absolutely have to, go ahead and eat at Chevys. Get a three-thing combo, and share it between the two of you. Oh, and the have fried ice cream! I didn't get it, though. Sorry.
Rice Paper Peanut curry Edina I thought Rice Paper had closed, but really it just moved. From Linden Hills to 50th & France, which is a move best described as "lateral," as far as I'm concerned. I always heard okay things about the Linden Hills location, but never tried it until now. Four things stand out, and I will do my best to keep it brief. 1.) I've never tasted anything like these dishes before. Not that it was better than anything I've tasted before, just different. Very particular seasonings and aromas; lots of tumeric. Definitely different than your standard Vietnamese/Thai fish sauce and sugar. 2.) All the dishes, to me at least, screamed "1990s". Granted, I wasn't eating anything other than Taco Bell and Chilis in the 90s, but the plate preparation, from the fancy cut carrots to the pile of shredded cabbage, seems like something straight out of 90210. Kind of cheesy. 3.) Amazing dumplings. Some of the best I've ever had. 4.) Bonus points for the server. She accidentally brought us a tofu curry instead of chicken. We didn't complain and where just going to eat it anyway, when suddenly she brought us the chicken curry and said we can just have them both! So we took one home. Totally above and beyond, and very appreciated. So will we go back? Sure, why not.
Dong Yang Bibimbap Fridley Someone once told me about this little hard-to-find Korean place by a strip mall in Fridley, hidden in the back corner of a Korean grocery store. Best Korean food in the city he said. Then a year later, City Pages goes and crowns Dong Yang officially. So it makes my list. After a failed attempt to eat there this winter (it truly is hard to find), I finally made it there today. And it.. is.. so.. good. So good. And so pleasant, despite its hole-in-the-wall-ness. I had the bibimbap, which is essentially a bowl full of sprouts and carrots and mushrooms and a handful of other mystery vegetables, along with a bit of beef, an egg, and an entire tray full of various kim chee. I loved every bite of it, and I spent the entire meal staring at their photo menu (very handy) dreaming of what I was going to order next, angry that I wasn't able to eat a second lunch right after the first.
Cecils Pastrami St. Paul There was a time when I loved Cecil's. Then there was a time when I was "over it," buying the line that it was a pale imitation of a "real" deli. Well now I'm over being over it, and I'm totally on board the Cecil's bandwagon. Great place, totally delicious. Had their carrot cake for the first time tonight, which was outstanding. Their deserts there are really below-the-radar. And have you had the sauerkraut rye? Ooh.
Pepitos Enchilada and taco South Minneapolis I like Pepitos alright. It's too busy and too expensive usually, but it's tasty enough. I tried their chicken mole for the first time last night and found it a bit bland. I'll take Dominguez mole any day. Although Dominguez doesn't have free valet parking. They do have Brother Ali, though; we saw him there last week, giving his kid a stern talking to.
Pineda Tacos Chicken burrito South Minneapolis Last time I ate at Pineda Tacos I woke up the next day with a rash over a quarter of my body. In hindsight it was most likely a reaction to an anti-viral amoxicillin-based medicine I had just finished taking, but at the time it was difficult not to draw a parallel between the magnitude of my ailments and the latitude of the previous day's lunch. Pineda Tacos, I mean to say, is a foreign place. This is not Chipotle. It's previous digs were a former Pizza Hut with only the minimum amount of the charm of being a former Pizza Hut, while its new space, despite being in a strip mall less than 3 years old, is even skeevier. The menu is confusing, and the food looks, honestly, kind of gross. One certainly could expect to get a rash here. The food, however, is every bit as deserving of the accolades it constantly receives. I don't remember what kind of meat I had pre-rash (pork, maybe?), as there are at least 6 options, none of which are really labeled or described in any way, but this time I went with the spicy chicken. Some rice, beans, jalepenos, a bit of cilantro, hot salsa. Nothing fancy at all. But I consumed it all without stopping to breathe, or consider my actions, and for the last 24 hours (rash-free) it's been all I can think about.
Craftsman Spaghetti carbonara South Minneapolis Fantastic dinner, with a capital F, last night at the Craftsman. A rich, tangy spaghetti carbonara with some bacony sort of thing (which Wikipedia tells me is " guanciale", a sort of bacon made from pig cheeks). Oh god it was good. Maybe my favorite meal of the year so far. Libby had a reuben which she thought was great, and I can't disagree, although there are certainly better reubens out there. All told, an extremely positive if expensive experience. I feel bad that we haven't gone to the Craftsman more (or at all) since moving into the area, since it's an easy bike ride away. But after last night's accidental dinner (we tried going to La Grassa but they wanted no part of us), we'll be spending a lot more time there this summer, even if it bankrupts us.
Soul Daddy Pork Bloomington If Chipotle was a rock star, Soul Daddy is its ill-advised but satisfactory side project. Like that folk record the dude from Neurosis did. Or The Raconteurs. The place is laid out exactly like a Chipotle, as if they pasted up some new menus over the old ones, made the wood trim a little "earthier," and replaced all the steel with stone. I know the Chipotle CEO had a big hand in the dog and pony show that created this place, but da-umn! But you know that feeling you get after you eat a Chipotle burrito, that feeling that you have once again been birthed onto this earth, accepting in equal parts the enlightenment, defilement, and remorse? Soul Daddy unfortunately offers you none of that. Which, of course, isn't a surprise considering that the place wasn't as much created as it was squeezed through some sort of reality TV processor, inoffensive enough to appeal to most any demographic, yet touched by enough talented people that it's clear that they know exactly what they are doing. So it's better than Arby's. It's better than Popeye's. It may well last a couple years and open a dozen more locations. It may get better (some fried chicken would help). It will never be great or special or anything more than That Restaurant That Won That There TV Show. But I guess if you're at the Mall Of America looking for something to eat, you could definitely do worse.
The Blue Ox Meatloaf sandwich Burnsville "Do you love chaos? Do you hate taste? Do you long for undisrupted vistas of the Sears Auto Center off the frontage road of the Burnsville Mall? Well then come on down to the Blue Ox Sandwich Shop! It's food!"
And now that I'm done making fun of them, I'll at least throw them this bone: They're trying. Someone independently decided to open their own sandwich shop in the middle of Burnsville's shopping center nightmare world. You have to give them some amount of credit. But credit can only go so far. Maybe we'll try it again some time (there are only so many non-Subway options around the Burnsville Unique, after all).
The Modern Pork chop Northeast Minneapolis All is still well, for the most part, at The Modern, after their head chef left this winter for the Birchwood. They re-designed their menu, which freaked me out, and it seems the prices are all a buck or two higher. But my pork chop (with pickled cabbage and red-eye gravy) was classic Modern goodness. That is to say: I happily ate every last bite. Consider me relieved.
Q Fanatic Pulled pork sandwich Champlain Okay. So. Last night Q Fanatic got bumped up from "intriguing" to "astounding." Just perfect, perfect barbeque in every way. I could've cried. I'm not about to declare Ted Cooke's defeated, but ladies and gentlemen: We've got a competition.
Singapore Curry South Minneapolis Takeout from Singapore last night, for the first time since our "interesting" experience a year ago. And hot damn it nearly went off without a hitch. They actually answered the phone, they actually took the order correctly, they weren't out of any of the menu items, and they had it ready to go when we went to pick it up. No complaints. Other than the relentless 8 year old assaulting us with questions about video game systems (!?) while we were waiting at the front door. Oh, and the food was great.
Mozza Mia Sausage pizza, etc Edina I've decided that Parasole restaurants aren't actually restaurants; they are pieces of commercial art created to make you think you are in one. And the food is not food, rather a carefully composed mix of foodstuffs measured and cooked to give you the impression that what you are eating is food, and you are being satisfied. It is a tenuous lie, one that has gone too far and has lapped itself, a snake eating its own tail, to the point that it actually, truly, is food. It actually is a restaurant. And sure, it's satisfying.
Tanpopo Noodle Shop Beef soba, croquettes St. Paul The beef croquette dinner special? Not so much. Not so much. The beef soba? Absolutely. The sesame spinach? Oooooh boy. Look, I don't want to insult Midori's Floating World (and heck, I can't even remember moto-i at this point), but it's safe to say Tanpopo is on a whole other level. Weird waiter, though.
Smalleys Caribbean Barbeque Pork sandwich Stillwater Smalley's Caribbean Barbeque should not be good. It's barely barbeque. It is not the least bit caribbean. The menu's design has less integrity than Famous Daves'. You are greeted at the door by a mannequin dressed as a pirate, it has its own gift shop, and not least of all, it is in Stillwater (which, despite its charming facade, is not a breeding ground for quality eateries). But here we are. And you know where I'm going with this. Everything I ate, between my Carolina-style pulled pork sandwich, to Libby's jerk shrimp tacos, was dee-licious. I know. There's no accounting for it.
Cat man do Veggie momos, chicken noodles St. Paul I know I shouldn't have ordered stir fried noodles at a Nepali restaurant, but I really, really wanted stir fried noodles. And I happened to be near a Nepali restaurant, one that I've been meaning to try for a while now. So I ordered the stir fried noodles, as well as some vegetarian momos. And I know I shouldn't sit here and judge a Nepali restaurant by anything other than their curries, but I have to say that everything was just a bit too bland. Not a lot happening. The momos and dipping sauce were good at first, but after the second or third one they just overwhelmed me with saltiness. And now I'll stop judging, and just say that I will definitely try it again some time. Maybe get something actually, you know, Nepalese.
Uptown Cafeteria Ribs Uptown Minneapolis I feel comfortable now, after three trips, saying that the Uptown Cafeteria is nothing special. It's not bad, at all. Not at all. And it's fun and quirky and a bit of a lark to go to every now and then. But unless you have a hankering for chicken and waffles, there will rarely be a time when it will be your best option.
Black Sheep Pizza Pizza Downtown Minneapolis An hour long wait, an hour of the booth next to us having a WWF-level argument about the pros and cons of union labor (see, the guy in the flannel shirt and baseball cap thought unions are the protectors of the American Dream, and the guy in the sweater and shiny shoes thought they're literally destroying the country), potentially awkward run-in with clients. Black Sheep was truly a powder keg this evening. Let me tell you, even the most minor problem with the food would have sent me over the fucking edge. But by god they did it; Black Sheep put together a pile of food that, from the bread and marinara to the mushroom and rosemary pizza, satiated everything inside me that otherwise would've led me to punch someone in the head. Oh, and 1919 Root Beer on tap. We can all agree on that, right?
Paciugo Gelato Bloomington Some new gelato place that is pretending to be Italian and artisan opened up a while back at the Mall of America, and I finally got around to trying it. And though it pains me to say it, I think it's legitimately good. Tons of flavors (I had half pistachio and half chipotle chocolate), they make it on site, and I think they really do use real ingredients. While they do have some cheesy flavors like "wedding cake" and "Rocky Road" (just like in Sicily!), they also have some more interesting ones like black sesame and the aforementioned chipotle chocolate, which is actually spicy. Anyhow, give it a shot. You'll be pleasantly surprised.
Tom Pham's Wonderous Azian Kitchen Singapore noodles Downtown Minneapolis This could easily have been the place that "saves" downtown, if every item on the menu was about half the price and the ambiance was actually welcoming. But no, instead it's an $18 plate of stir fry and a wall with dragon tattoo paintings. And there's a picture of Tom Pham on the front of the menu. That says it all, really.
Rice Pik khing pork Washington DC For years I've been hearing people, mostly those from DC, complain about how lame of a city DC is. "No soul! No style! No culture!" they say. Not to mention the taxation without representation. But from the couple days I spent there, I have a hard time seeing what they're whining about. Sure, there are a lot of sad-looking lawyer types walking around in their Brooks Brothers pea coats, and yes traffic is a mess. But the whole place seems to be riddled with restaurants and bars and mid-century furniture stores. What's the problem? Granted, a majority of the 'nice' restaurants I noticed had a certain air to them. Slick, fussy, trying their damndest to be cool. Still not over "fusion." You get the picture. But this Asian/Thai place we went to with some locals, Rice, despite the fussiness and fusionness, was flawlessly delicious. My pork thing was good, but the winner was Justin's spicy duck, followed by Ben's squid ink spaghetti. It was loud, it was busy, and it was dark, but it was otherwise a perfectly respectable restaurant, and only one of about 1000 others in the vicinity. So stop whining, DC.
Oohhs and Aahhs Meatloaf Washington DC "A little hole in the wall southern cookin kinda place," they said. "You gotta go." And so I did. Hole in the wall? Definitely. Southern cookin? Catfish, greens, rice and gravy, sounds close enough to me. Gotta go? Well... sure. I'd only recommend it because from what I've learned, there are surprisingly few soul food restaurants in Washington DC, and this is by far the best-regarded. And, oh yeah, it's good. Not in a, "My god I'm finally experiencing the real south" kind of way, but more in the "Huh, this meatloaf is pretty darn good" kind of way. It all tasted like somebody's above-average home cooking, and really, that's the whole point. So yes, if you're in DC, and want to do the southern thing, by all means go to Oohhs and Aahhs. Just try to bet the lunch rush.
Alterra Cookie Milwaukee Speaking of the Milwaukee airport, I suppose I need to also give Alterra its due. From what I gather, Alterra is Milwaukee's big-time hipster coffee chain, one that probably has a lot less cred now than it did 12 years ago. Think Pizza Luce if Pizza Luce roasted coffee. They still have art-school illustrations on their menus, and organic pork in their burritos, but we're still talking operation here. Anyhow, they too have a Milwaukee airport location, and I had a chocolate chip cookie and a peanut butter bar there (on two separate trips... I'm not a glutton!), from Alterra Bakery. And let me just say: they were very, very good. I'm actually excited to stop there once more on my trip back in two days to get another. I can't speak for the quality of their coffee, of course, but I'd imagine it's "fine." (By the way, the Milwaukee airport also has a French Meadow location! What is the deal with the Milwaukee airport!? And an even better question, what is the deal with French Meadow!?)
Northpoint Cheeseburger Milwaukee Take it from me, a man who's now eaten there twice: If you're ever stuck at the C terminal of the Milwaukee airport, you must get a burger from Northpoint. I imagine it's a Milwaukee institution type place, a Five Guys style no BS burger joint that simply does everything the right way. Greasy, fresh burgers with homemade buns and fried onions and special sauce, perfectly crispy krinkle fries. It barely gets better than this in the real world, much less at an airport.
Travail Kielbasa, et cetera Robbinsdale Oh, hi there. I forgot to write about my second trip to Travail. It was better and worse than the first trip, in different ways both. Still waited a long time, still had some good and some less good small plates. Fries: excellent. Kielbasa: good enough. Beet salad: don't remember, sorry. All in all, my take away from Travail has been to set your expectations just a notch below "skyward." Do this and find the bus to Robbinsdale and you should leave happy.
Szechuan Spice Three pepper chicken Uptown Minneapolis Szechuan Spice. Not a misnomer. And also the first restaurant by the old apartment that actually made me jealous of those suckers who still live near LynLake. I will reserve a detailed review until I've tried a few more dishes, but after a single order of some spicy chicken, I'm already pissed that this didn't exist two years ago. It may not be Rainbow, but it's heads and shoulders above any China Panda Dragon Star Garden.
Heritage Lamb vindaloo, other stuff Washington DC It's been long enough since I was in DC that I no longer remember what I wanted to write about Heritage. But for the sake of record keeping, let it be known that I found it to be well above average. Especially the fried rock bass, and the vindaloo, which the bowtie-clad waiter warned us would be "extremely spicy," but was in fact quite pleasant. There are apparently a couple Heritages in DC, because after we left Ben found out we were at the "wrong" one, whatever that means. But this one seemed perfectly fine to me.
Tune Inn Beef sandwich, ham salad Washington DC The Tune Inn! Washington, DC! Congressmen eat here! Guy Fieri called it "awesome, mant!" The main attraction was supposed to be the West Virginia Beef sandwich, but the real winner, in a shocking upset, all we could talk about the next day was the ham salad sandwich. Wild, right? Great cheese sticks, too. The point is, it doesn't take a room full of lobbyists to convince me to vote for the Tune Inn!
The Lowbrow Burger, chili South Minneapolis Ladies and gentlemen, The Lowbrow. They opened up very quietly recently on 42nd and Nicollet, just down the street from Roadrunner Records. No reviews, no ads, not a ton of publicity at all. But I think they'll do just fine. The menu isn't fussy or complicated, just straight-up well prepared food made from high quality ingredients. Grass-fed beef, local pork, all that stuff. The highlight was the bison chili, which had a deep, rich flavor to it, and a healthy amount of bison. The Fire Breather burger, topped with jalapeno and guacamole, was perfectly fine, but not the best I've ever had. The guac, however, was fantastic, and would be delicious just with some chips and salsa. Fries could've been crispier, but at least they were hand-cut and (I think) infused with some malt vinegar. So anyway, the takeaway after my first trip to the Lowbrow is that it is great addition to the area, and I'll definitely be back, but it's not a "game changer" at this point, whatever that means. (Oh, and that they need to add some lunch items to their brunch menu. Otherwise it's just, well..."
Travail Crab, pork, scallops Robbinsdale I will say this right up front: Travail is not the best restaurant I've ever visited, and their food was not the best I've ever tasted. There was some dry pork, some mushy sandwich buns, and some under-seared scallops. The pancetta around the tenderloin could've had a bit more snap, and the sweet potato fries could've had a bit more crunch. The waitress was a little impatient, and the seating situation certainly isn't ideal. However, no matter how many complaints I could try to amass, either manufactured or legitimate, the fact remains that this place is a capital-A anomaly. A progressive (and aggressive) restaurant practicing the dark art of molecular gastronomy in the middle of downtown Robbinsdale, serving frog legs and rabbit ribs and softshell crab banh-mi for prices lower than Chilis? It may or may not deserve the Restaurant Of The Year accolades it's been receiving, but what it definitely doesn't deserve is a single complaint.
Greek Grill Gyro Downtown Minneapolis Although its interior is utterly devoid of character, a neither charming nor repugnant food hole in the neither charming nor repugnant City Center, I think the Greek Grill might have some of the best food in the skyway. The competition is meager, yes, but still. Try it some time, won't you?
Oxendale Market Thousand Hills Beef South Minneapolis Things really are getting better over at Oxendale's. Slowly, slowly, they're starting to get their act together in becoming legitimately respectable. As part of the transformation, they've recently started carrying Thousand Hills beef products. Libby and I just made a mushroom and beef pasta using some of their chuck roast, and I'll be damned if it isn't worth the extra cost over whatever cheap meat Oxendale's usually stocks. Will that neighborhood buy enough of it to make them continue to carry it? That's the big question. I did once see an old lady there argue against buying an organic banana because she "doesn't know what they put in those things," so we know they've got a ways to go. Baby steps.
PF Changs Dali Chicken Edina I hate to say it, but I still think PF Changs is really good. Big Bowl, too. And I don't care that you once spent a month traveling around Beijing.
The Blue Door Pub Pastrami Lucy St. Paul SOLUTION! After posting the post below, I took all of 30 seconds and solved the Blue Door's capacity issues. They should switch spots with Taste of Thailand! Perfect, right? They get bigger, Taste of Thailand gets smaller, and they'd only like a block down from where they are now. Everybody wins. Commence!
The Blue Door Pub Pastrami Blucy St. Paul I want to speak to you not about the quality of my lunch at the Blue Door (which was good but heavy on the cream cheese and not as good as previous Blue Door burgers I've eaten), but about the their capacity issues. We were lucky enough to get there at 11:15 and get the last open table without waiting, but holy (stuffed) cow, did it get busy quick. Which was no surprise, because it's pretty much always busy. And it's so tiny that people have no choice but to stand in between tables, guts all up my grill. Plus the fact that it's like 7 below out today, and people are standing there with the door open while there's a table full of people trying to eat about 4 feet away, forced to wear their winter jackets and hats just to enjoy an above-average burger (not us, but still...). You can't blame the Blue Door for being wildly successful, but cheese louise! Short of commandeering the back end of the Mall of St. Paul next door, something has got to be done. Because scarfing down food while two dozen hungry people give you the stink eye is charming at a place like Al's Breakfast, but it does not benefit the Blue Door.
Highland Grill Taco salad St. Paul I'm going to need the Highland Grill to put up a big sign inside, maybe on their chalkboard, that says "Hey, Steve, order the taco salad." Because every time I go there I seem to forget how great it is and ignore it and order the turkey burger instead (which, incidentally, I had for lunch today.) Sure, the turkey burger is great, but this taco salad... hoo boy. And while we're making this sign, let's add a little footnote that says "By the way, don't order the chili mac."
Mavericks Roast beef sandwich Rosedale Here we have a pie chart. A big, round, roast beef sandwich-shaped pie chart, split right down the middle, 50/50. One half of that is the romantic notion of Mavericks, the little guy; hailed by everybody as how to do food the right way, an oasis of goodness in the middle of a Roseville strip mall, with City Pages awards and Urbanspoon stars hanging on the walls to prove it. On the other side are three words: "Arbys for grownups." After a second visit to Mavericks today, I sadly need to redraw that pie chart to 51/49, in favor of the cynics. God bless Mavericks and everything they do and are (except the cheesy western theme, of course), but while their food is nearly as tasty as their mission is noble, I think they get just a little more credit than they deserve. Just a little. Nevertheless, I will definitely be back.
Colossal Cafe Pork sandwich South Minneapolis Have I mentioned yet how Libby and I got interviewed for an episode of Drive Ins Diners and Dives, and it aired on TV a a few weeks back and Libby got 1.5 seconds of screen time??? No lie! In honor of the event (and its appearance on YouTube), we got Colossal for lunch. And I feel the same way about the lunch as I did about the breakfast: I could tell it was good and well-made and high-quality and all that. But it didn't move me. And I suppose it's that kind of attitude that left me on the cutting room floor.
Town Talk Diner Brat burger South Minneapolis I hear there's been a lot of chaos happening at the Town Talk Diner in recent months (ownership change, staff walkout, rumors of half-assed menus and cheaper ingredients, closing, reopenings, alien abductions, food poisoning, removal of garlic parsley fries, regicide, explosions, implosions, and that discovery of the hole behind the dishwasher that leads to a world exactly 37 years behind our own). Chaos. And at our brunch there this morning, something indeed seemed askew. The staff has changed from what once seemed like disinterested hipster alcoholic chefs in training, to disinterested 40-something waitstaff lifers. The brunch menu, as far as I could tell, was essentially the same as it was last time, but with a couple more burgers, including the brat burger, which I ordered and was happy enough with. It was certainly better than the awful brat burger I had at Gluek's a year or two ago. It's hard to tell how much the food has changed, since I wasn't necessarily a regular there to begin with. But there were garlic parsley fries on the menu, which people months ago were saying they no longer had, so that's a relief. They seemed tasty enough; they were at least skin-on, so even if they were cheap frozen fries like the rumor mill has claimed, the garlic and parsley at least made up for it. I left, however, with two images weighing the most on me. One, a man I assumed to be the new owner or manager, awkwardly walking around the dining room looking around, and asking how our meals were, though he didn't seem to care about the answer. Two, from my view into their kitchen, the bag of Country Hearth whole wheat bread sitting on a stainless steel prep table. The real Town Talk wouldn't use Country Hearth bread, right? Right?
The Red Stag Bison stroganoff Northeast Minneapolis The Red stag, even when dining alone at the bar on a depressing final night of a week's vacation, is as good as advertised. Sure, $25 might be too much to pay for a plate of stroganoff, but it was pretty much perfect. Big, hearty, tons of flavor, and a nicely roasted hunk of bison (you know, tatanka). It was good enough to spin my head into a miniature moral dilemma when Libby asked me if I liked it better than her mom's, an unfair question which I have not answered yet. Along side that was a plate of brussels sprouts with some nuts, and a white bean butter spread that came with the bread. It was all pretty much flawless.
Randy Newman Good Old Boys I know this is Randy Newman's record about the south, so this is a cheesy thing to say, but: Oh my god! This album is perfect to listen to when you're driving around Mississippi and Alabama. Just perfect.
Eleanor Friedberger Last Summer My new theory: If we didn't know who Elenor Friedberger was, and the Fiery Furnaces didn't exist, we would hear this record and go completely bonkers. 'A genius' we'd say. 'A true auteur'. The more I listen to it, the more things start to gel a bit, and it is a succulent gel. More than anything, it's about the lyrics. And I guess that's a big part of the FF's, too, the lyrics. But she's writing from reality here, instead of her usual fiery furnace flights of fancy. Real honest shit. Street shit. "Her mom went blind with the third baby / oh shit that's crazy." Oh, and did I ever mention I sat by her once at a Jon Brion concert? Totally did.
Eleanor Friedberger Last Summer Rich, lush, and soulful to a degree that the Fiery Furnaces don't often reach, but lacking, with the exception of two, maybe three songs, the level of perfection they are capable of. Still, I'd choose to listen to this 100 times over before trying to sit through Matthew Friedgerber's solo record any time soon.
Metallica ReLoad An uninteresting sequence of events* led me to sit and listen to "The Unforgiven II" this evening, for the fist time in a long time. A very long time (for as much as I love and defend Load, even I have to admit that ReLoad is total B-squad material.) My first impression: Not bad! It still holds up as being a very nice little song, some good vocal lines, good guitar parts, and it ties in to the original "Unforgiven" without coming off as tacky or disrespectful. All in all a great effort. My second impression: Oh my god is that Autotune??? Seriously, on a handful of the harmony parts, and maybe one or two pieces of the lead vocal, I heard the distinct remnants of Autotuning; vocals that are just a bit too smooth and perfectly-pitched to actually be James Hetfield singing live. I mean, this album came out in 1997, so it's borderline. I know Cher's "Believe" was the first mega hit to openly use it, but that was 98. A quick check says Autotune was originally released in 97, so it's possible. It's just crazy to think about, since back then we never would've noticed it; it simply wasn't something people did. Now, where most (probably every) Top 40 pop hits are swimming in Autotune, it's far easier to distinguish real and fake. And when I listened to the Metallica track, I swear it was Autotune. Very weird. Makes me want to go back to other songs from back then and see if it's hiding anywhere else.
* (I was skipping through my iTunes randomly, and landed on "The Unforgiven III" from Death Magnetic. I had completely forgotten they tried to stretch this thing into a trilogy. Part III, however, is clearly the black sheep of the group. It's a different key, different tempo, shares none of the lyrical or melodic themes as the first two. It just seems like they named a random song "The Unforgiven III." There's a cello/guitar part at the end that comes from the original, which is nice, but that's all it has going for it.)
Sondre Lerche Sondre Lerche On the bright side, this is the best full album Sondre Lerche has put out, maybe ever. The downside to that being, if I was a music rating sort, this thing only about a 6.9 or 7. I get frustrated with this guy, because he's one of the few pop musicians out there with real, hardcore compositional chops. Like, he actually manipulates chord structures. 7ths! 9ths! Augmented 6ths! And I want so much for him to write some classics. He's only done it once, with "Two Way Monologue." And that was seven years ago already. This record has some tracks that are starting to sniff at that level again, but he's still a ways out. Good stuff anyway, though.
Fucked Up David Comes Alive Finally, an album to put on my shelf in between Fuck and the Fucking Champs, not only alphabetically, but spiritually. But maybe that's pushing it. Anyway, there's a marvelous album squeezed in between the 18 tracks here, a thing of beauty, a classic. But unfortunately there's just too damn much of it. The first 6-7 songs here are truly remarkable, in the sense that I want to remark about them. And so I will: This is obviously a hardcore band (their singer, at his weakest, sounds like Dicky Barrett at his strongest), but it's also obvious that the guy writing and arranging this music has very little interest in hardcore. Incredible chordal interplay; not chord 'progressions,' per say, but almost a jazz-like willingness to let two guitars break free of each other every once in a while. They have three guitarists in the band, and they treat them more like the two hands of a pianist than an all-out assault. Don't get me wrong, this isn't Deerhoof or something, this is still punk rock. It's also 18 damn tracks long, each one of them sounding like a finale. Newsom-like levels of patience testing. After those first 7 tracks, I started getting ancy. Hoping for just 5 minutes of acoustic something, or some other reprieve from the pounding and hollering. Then I spent the last half hour of it thinking it was ready to finish. And it never did. I think it's still going right now. Which is fine, really, because the average of those 18 tracks is one really awesome one.
Tedeschi Trucks Band Revelator This album makes you think someone opened up a Famous Daves inside of a Starbucks. And yet "Midnight In Harlem" is looking more and more like my Summer Jam of 2011. It's just so pleasant!
The Cure Wild Mood Swings I'm no Cure purist (Curist?), never was never will be. So that leaves me, unlike the legions of 30/40-somethings raised on Disintegration and Boys Don't Cry, open and unafraid to claim that Wild Mood Swings is an incredible album. I've been saying that since 1996, albeit not as confidently as I do now, since I was just a snotty high schooler who didn't give enough of a shit about The Cure to care to make an honest comparison. But here, 15 years later, I'm blown away by the pure energy and composition of these songs. It sounds entirely unique to itself, and its clear that everyone involved in its creation was truly passionate about it. "Mint Car"! By god! You can't fake that! There is a cheesiness to the whole thing, a sort of embarrassing earnestness that is easy to make fun of, but also admirable. It's as if they completely ignored not only what was popular in 1996, but what made them popular in 1986, and just made the best music they could. Yet here it sits with only 3 stars on AllMusicGuide, lost and forgotten by most everyone, it seems. I mean, I've never actually spoken to a Cure fan about it, but I can imagine.
Battles Gloss Drop Major disappointment with Gloss Drop so far. Everything I'd read leading up to it gave me the feeling I would love it, as everything I disliked about Mirrored (i.e. the vocals) are gone. But right now it sounds like the same song on repeat. Pretty boring. I also have to note that the packaging design is awesome, and totally stealing the concept I've had for record packaging for like 8 years now (although Wilco's A Ghost Is Born nearly did the same thing). I'll try it tomorrow with headphones, though.
Wilco Sky Blue Sky Can't sleep. Dwelling on the fact that music critics continue to belittle Sky Blue Sky as being one of Wilco's 'lesser works.' No, no, no, no, no. I just read some review that half-bashed the new My Morning Jacket record (while still liking it), and comparing it unfavorably to Sky in this joking, sort of snotty manner. I mean, geez, if you're going to compare the new MMJ record to Wilco records, the obvious choice should be Wilco The Album.Sky is way more in line with It Still Moves, people. And Z is Summerteeth and At Dawn is Being There and they have no Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Get it right, you nincompoops!
Wilco Sky Blue Sky Can't sleep. Dwelling on the fact that music critics continue to belittle Sky Blue Sky as being one of Wilco's 'lesser works.' No, no, no, no, no. I just read some review that half-bashed the new My Morning Jacket record (while still liking it), and comparing it unfavorably to Sky in this joking, sort of snotty manner. I mean, geez, if you're going to compare the new MMJ record to Wilco records, the obvious choice should be Wilco The Album.Sky is way more in line with It Still Moves, people. And Z is Summerteeth and At Dawn is Being There and they have no Yankee Hotel Foxtrot. Get it right, you nincompoops!
Battles Mirrored Everyone always talks about "Atlas," and how it's "obviously" the "best" thing Battles has ever done, and how it's the "only" "fully formed" thought on Mirrored. Well I whole-heartedly disagree. "Race: In", people. So much better than Atlas, which is at its heart sounds like Mike Patton doing a throw-away remix of Marilyn Manson's "The Beautiful People." Seriously, listen to it. Race:In, meanwhile, is flawless. Anyway, their new album comes out tomorrow, and everyone's saying it's better than Mirrored, but those same people also like Atlas. So weeeeeee'll see.
The Decemberists The Crane Wife Get this: The Crane Wife is actually pretty great. Wow. I guess I couldn't really appreciate it until I lived with the Hazards Of Love monstrosity for a couple years. Well played, Meloy.
Gruff Rhys Hotel Shampoo Speakers? No. Headphones? Better. Either way, you're likely to forget every song on this album before you've heard the next one. Rough one, Gruff.
Chad Vangaalen Diaper Island A bunch of noisy bullshit from a man otherwise capable of pure melodic sublimity (or, rather, the sublimely melodic). Can you feel my disappointment?
Gang Gang Dance Eye Contact I'm digging* this new Gang Gang Dance record, despite the fact that they are on my long list of bands I passed off as Mid-2000s-Blog-Buzz-Bullshit. This was mostly because they are called "Gang Gang Dance," an embarrassingly cliche early 2000s Bullshit-Buzz-Blog combination of repeated words and a reference to dancing. And while they're not going to win any songwriting awards any time soon, I have to admit that Eye Contact sounds pretty sweet. Vintage synths and live drumming, carefully recorded and tastefully arranged. Sure, why not. It sounds like a sweet Battles dance club jam. A new singer would be welcomed, however.
Smashing Pumpkins Siamese Dream Three things: 1.) This is not the classic album you think it is. Lots of filler. 2). Production is pretty sloppy. Definitely a speakers album, not a headphones album. Hum engineered circles around this. and 3.) I don't know what if any acclaim Jimmy Chamberlin gets in the drumming world, but I think he is one of the best. Ever. I like what Corgan was doing, of course, but Chamberlin brought it all to the next level. His drum parts in just about every Pumpkins song harmonize with the guitar, rather than simply pushing a rhythm. It's beautiful to listen to, really, and the only comparison I can make, again, is Hum. If only Billy would've taken some extra time to mic the guy a little better.
Low C'mon It's not bad, in the sense that no Low album will (or can) ever be bad, but C'mon does not excite me in the same way as The Great Destroyer or Sparhawk's recent Retribution Gospel Choir work. I have huge respect for their music and take pride in their Minnesota-ness, but on a fundamental, primal level, I think I just like Low better when they rock.
Van Morrison Astral Weeks Until recently my only experience with Van Morrison is the classic "Brown Eyed Girl" / "Moondance" stuff. Sweet and catchy and all, but whatever. And then, randomly and unexpectedly, KEXP played "The Way Young Lovers Do" last week. And suddenly I see why people love Van Morrison. Astral Weeks, at least. This whole record is just a big sloppy pile of soul. I doesn't seem to demand close scrutiny, but from a distance it's a pretty flawless recording; the backing musicians are feeling it, and Van is doing whatever it is he does that makes us think he knows a heck of a lot more than we do. I can't make out half the words, and my throat hurts just listening to it, but soul, man. Soul.
Nilsson Pandemonium Shadow Show Is it official? Can I be a Nilsson fan now? I finally own (sort of) a copy of Pandemonium Shadow Show (sort of). Sort of. I know I could've downloaded it on iTunes or anywhere else a two years ago, and I could've ordered the record off Ebay a dozen times by now. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. It's just no fun! Where's the thrill of the search? Well the search ended this evening (sort of), when I found a German import of a CD containing Pandemonium, Aerial Ballet, and that dual record Aerial Pandemonium Ballet. It's the fist time I've found any version of it, so I had to snatch it up. So sue me. Anyway, I just gave it a passive listen, and it's as great as could be expected. Although at at the moment I'd claim that Aerial is a better record, there are plenty of amazing things happening here. Not the least of which is his take on the Beatles' "You Can't Do That," which is sort of an achievement all its own. His use of other Beatles melodies inside of the main song's arrangement makes Jon Brion's use of Nilsson songs in his version of "One" that much more perfect. I couldn't be happier. Except, you know, if it was the actual record and not a bargain basement German kompelateon.
Augie March Strange Bird Here I am listening to to Augie March's Strange Bird, already seven years since I first heard it. And my opinion of it hasn't diminished one bit, my opinion being that it is magnificent. Yet in these seven years I haven't seen a single review, a single news story, or a single mention of Augie March on any of my usual online music haunts. Or Rolling Stone, or whatever. Kills me. Totally kills me. On the flipside, it seems that they're huge in Australia. To the point that Australian music writers decry them for selling out. Which blows my mind, because nobody in this hemisphere has even heard their name.
At The Drive In Relationship of Command I liked Mars Volta*, and I liked Sparta*, and yet the thought of At The Drive In always bugged me. Too... punk? Too punk. But here I am, ready to admit I was wrong. This shit is pretty sweet.
Belle and Sebastian Jonathan David EP In finding a beautiful vinyl copy of Belle and Sebastian's "Jonathan David" EP (and Panda Bear's Person Pitch and The Smiths' Strangeways and Meat Is Murder and a couple Replacements albums and some legit old Beatles records and a pristine copy of Nilsson Schmilsson, with poster), I'm officially ready to admit that, by god, the Half Price Books in Highland Park is actually a great place to find records. And schizophrenics.
Bad Religion Recipe For Hate I don't want this to be one of those, "Man I haven't listened to Recipe For Hate in ages and I just did and it's amazing," because, as a whole, it's not. About half of it is pretty bad. 20% is good but forgettable Bad Religion. But that leaves you with 4-5 tracks that are not only fun and cool and exciting, but have a very particular sound that is unique to Recipe For Hate. "Kerosene," "Man On A Mission," "Skyscraper"... I have no reference point for some of this stuff. No other Bad Religion album ever touched some of the musical and sonic tones that some of these songs did, much less any album by anyone else ever. And no, I'm not saying it's a work of genius or classic album or anything, but just--that pedal steel is pretty sweet.
James Blake James Blake One part Jamey Lidell, one part Antony, sifted through that one Bon Iver song with the autotune, thrown shattered on the floor and glued back together as the exact inverse of what it originally was. Incredible, actually, not just as a music recording, but as a piece of work that (nearly) lives up to its impossible hype.
Tarkio Omnibus Found two copies of Omnibus at the St. Vincent De Paul thrift store for, like, $0.60. Tariko, as if y'all don't know, is Colin Meloy's old band from his college days in Montana. I never bothered buying it in the last five years when Kill Rock Stars released it, being that it's an old band, before his prime, not really meant to be heard by me. And most of the reviews I read on it were luke warm at best, calling it generic college rock, bar rock, frat rock, all that stuff. To which I can only respond, "Well... maybe?" It's rough around the edges and maybe only about three-fourths baked, but still: This is Colin Meloy. If you tried to convince me these were old Decemberists demos, you wouldn't have to do much convincing. His voice and songwriting, at least melody-wise, were already shaping up soundly. The only real drawbacks are the sometimes ham-fisted performances (this is a frat band, afterall), and the fact that the lyrics aren't about wharfingers and whipperins. Otherwise, shit. I have no problem with anything happening on any part of this two-disc collection. I'm glad I finally got it. And you can too, as the second copy of it is probably sitting at that thrift store right now. It's on Lake and Chicago. Good deals on old 4H trophies, too!
Kurt Vile Smoke Ring For My Halo Growing on me. Growing. I realized that despite its monotone grayness, its downbeat lack of fidelity, Smoke Ring is, deep down, a headphones album. That is to say: don't even try to listen to it out of your laptop speakers. Headphones. And a clear mind. And try not to focus too much on the singing.
J Mascis Several Shades of Why I've been excited about this one to come out, but it's hard to maintain that excitement when it's... just... so... slow.... There will probably be a night this Spring or Summer when I put this on and everything clicks into place, the light going on, so to speak. But for now I will be patient with it and take solace in the fact that there's always Farm.
R.E.M. Automatic For The People After years (decades?) of hearing "Everybody Hurts" coming out of tape players, MTV, FM radio, dramatic TV shows, gum commercials, grocery store speakers, Chris Farley movies, Applebees restaurants, and my own subconscious, I am just now sitting and listening to it, patiently and consciously, in a good pair of headphones. It's fun to do that sometimes, you know. Actually pay attention to music. And it makes an incredible difference. What I felt for years was an overblown, hyper-emotional ballad, sounds humble and quiet. The famous guitar arpeggios is nearly equaled in the left channel by an organ, which you can barely hear in any radio mix. It's really a pleasant little song. Plus, and this really gets me... this is practically an Otis Redding song! Listen to it. Imagine Otis moaning "When day is long..." Perfect, right? It could stand up right next to "These Arms Of Mine" and "Pain In My Heart." And when they hit that F# and the drums come in on the bridge? Awesome.
Danielson The Best of Gloucester County I would've loved this back in 2002, then hated it two years later. But as for 2011, I thought I'd love it, but am finding myself at odds with it. Like Danielson is purposefully distancing itself from me so I can never fully grasp what's happening. "People's Partay" is fun, though, if completely impossible to get down to.
Kurt Vile Smoke Ring For My Halo A couple years ago I heard the song "Freeway," by Kurt Vile. I tapped my toe and bobbed my head and said "I like this Kurt Vile. I must find more." And so I did. And none of it was as good as "Freeway." Three or four albums came and went, and still nothing that did for me what that song did. In fact very little of it was even in the same genre. And now Smoke Ring For My Halo comes out, supposedly bringing him back to the energy that made "Freeway" great. But it too just disappoints me. I wish I could say otherwise.
Sigur Ros Agaetis Byrjun There should be a rule where at least once a year everyone should have to take out their copy of Agaetis Byrjun and remember how fyrking amazing it is and how much better it is than anything else ever. And also, once someone invents a time machine, we all need to go back to 2002 and string together a mousetrap-esque series of calamities which force Sigur Ros to disappear, Jeff Mangum style, into relative obscurity while the mystique of Agaetis slowly grows over time to become legendary, instead of simply classic.
Shugo Tokumaru Port Entropy And finally, my six year quest to purchase a Shugo Tokumaru album is complete. Ever since Night Piece garnered a bunch of highly respectable reviews back in 2005, each successive Tokumaru album has hit me with equal amounts of intrigue and frustration; each one is more critically praised than the last, and yet not a single record store seems to carry the damn things. So now that Port Entropy finally got its US release, I've been going from store to store trying to find it (God forbid I order it online, right?), and finally scored a lone copy at the Uptown Cheapo, of all places. And only one listen in, I already wish I hadn't missed these last five years of Shugomania. In short: Damn this guy's good! "Sufjan Stevens meets Cornelius," yes, yes. That is obvious. But the first three songs on here made me want to weep with joy.
Nilsson Aerial Pandemonium Ballet So first of all it turns out that there's a record store on Nicollet and 30-somethingth called Yeti Records. Who knew? I was on a bus the other day and saw it out the window as we drove by, and was shocked enough that I yanked on the cable and got off at the next stop. It turns out to not be the best place ever, comparable to Shuga Records up in Northeast. But they did have Nilsson's Aerial Pandemonium Ballet, which isn't rare or anything, but I don't see it all that often, so I picked it up. It's an odd record; a combination of his first two releases put together onto two sides of a single record. I never really wanted it before, but recently found it that the tracks are actually re-recordings, alternate takes and remixes of the original. And that's fun. That is all.
Doug Paisley Constant Companion First you're like, "Hey, this Doug Paisley guy is pretty good." And then a few songs pass and you stop paying attention until you find yourself thinking, "Hey, this is a pretty good Will Oldham album."
Destroyer Kaputt Ooh, this is a tough one. But I think Iron And Wine wins the January 25th Showdown of Thoughtful Singer Songwriters Earnestly Invoking 1970s Soft Rock Cliches On Their New Albums. This is still a pretty sweet record, though. And track seven, "Downtown," totally apes the theme to Twin Peaks.
Iron and Wine Kiss Each Other Clean The songs aren't necessarily his best, but the instrumental arrangements on this record are a thing of beauty. 70s AM rock radio tropes are everywhere, and yet none of it comes off as cheesy or novel. Raunchy sax, raunchy flute, the occasional Rhodes solo, all of it somehow melts together into a sound that remains 100% Iron And Wine. This one may or may not stand the test of time, but you have to give him credit right off the bat for doing it right.
Deerhoof Deerhoof Vs Evil On a superficial level, this is the kind Deerhoof album I've been waiting for. Mellow, layered, unique, but still undeniably Deerhoofian. Yet here I sit, only two songs to go, unmoved. Oh well. I'm not too concerned, considering Deerhoof and I have an every-other-album kind of relationship, and Offend Maggie was possibly their best work. Next time, then.
The Decemberists The King Is Dead What's funny is that the more I've listened to this album in the last few days, it hit me that this "new" "radio friendly" version of the Decemberists is actually closer to their very first EP, 5 Songs, than any of their ensuing full lengths. I could easily imagine an alternate universe where The King Is Dead was the major label debut of the band after some A&R guy discovered 5 Songs, as if the intervening seven years never happened, and "My Mother Was A Chinese Trapeze Artist" was just a one-off novelty, as opposed to the basis for the rest of their career. Also funny, when you listen to King and 5 Songs back to back is how the Decemberists have taken a similar route as Belle And Sebastian in transforming themselves from scrappy amateurs to impeccable studio vets; they may be the same band, but by god they can actually play their instruments now.
Sharon Van Etten Epic All Zoe Deschanel bashing aside, this Sharon Van Etten seems to be the real deal. Which is to say she actually makes music. She plays confidently, sings earnestly, and best of all, writes melodies that can only be called Sharon Van Etten-esque. And the more I listen to and muse about music ("of the populist ethos," to quote Moby), I feel like that's really 90% of the battle. Every melodic line moves towards a predictable end, but blows right by it and keeps going for another 4 or 8 beats and makes you realize you don't know shit. By the way: My top albums of 2010 list? Updated.
The Decemberists The King Is Dead A breath of fresh air after Hazards of Love and The Crane Wife, that is for sure. Easily their most earnest work yet, albeit not nearly their best. A little overkill on the harmonica and pedal steel, as well. But still good. Good. As odd as it sounds, however, I'm struck by a feeling that this could very well be the last Decemberists album. I have no reason to believe that, and please don't go around giving them any ideas, but something about the vibe here makes me think that they've hit that, "Okay, we've accomplished everything and maybe it's time to move on" point. If I was in the band, I wouldn't know where to go from here. They did the build up to the prog rock opera (uh, twice), and now are doing the solid country rock studio band thing. Where else do they go? Their separate ways, that's where. Don't say I didn't warn you.
Broadcast Haha Sound I didn't even know Trish Keenan's name before today, when the news of her death appeared all over those particular parts of the internet that would notice such an event. I only knew her as the voice of Broadcast, a band who I've had great respect for since 2003, despite only owning one of their albums, Haha Sound. Broadcast is a great example of how experimentation and noise manipulation in music need not happen at the cost of melody. Broadcast is a band that sounds like no one else but Broadcast, and Trish Keenan's voice was integral to that sound. But the thought of this previously-nameless woman dying of something as prosaic as pneumonia, while on tour with her band, makes me sad. Because when someone like Elliott Smith goes, you at least know he'll have a legacy. When a Jeff Buckley or Nick Drake dies, they leave behind classic recordings that will create fans for decades. But I just feel like that sort of posthumous acclaim isn't in the cards for someone like Keenan and Broadcast, an anonymity in death that makes it that much harder to stomach.
Agalloch Marrow of the Spirit This record is getting shit tons of positive press in the admittedly shallow end of the heavy metal world that I sometimes dip my toes into. People calling it "Metal album of the year" with little if any reserve, handing it golden statues and sacrificing mammals in its name. It is, it would seem, a sensation. And yet when I listen to it, all I can think is how Agalloch, the Metal Band Of The Year, and each and every one of their metal peers (black, death, thrash, prog, or otherwise), are about 15 years behind Opeth. Hurry up, dudes, you're about to get lapped.
Cake Showroom of Compassion This new Cake album might be good, but I can't tell, because it was engineered and mastered by a trained bear. A very noble achievement for a trained bear, I will admit, but this particular trained bear apparently took little interest in the crispness or clarity of the recording.
