Taking Time

I'll be honest: It's all to easy to rush and cut corners when putting together a show for Radio Boise. I'm busy, it's late, it runs tomorrow, I'm tired, blah blah. I've done it--though I know those of you who have listened to Range Life will find that shocking. I'm very sorry. I'll try my best to do better.

And, for that last part at least, I mean it. I put time into these shows. I read about music a lot, I search out new music, I log hours and hours both mobile and stationary listening to new music, and I love it all. Nowadays, I especially love the process of assembling a version of Range Life, the show. I love firing up the iBook and the Creatures and setting out in my office/bike shop for hours on end, listening to track after track and assembling playlists and listening to them and changing them and trying to create a good flow, with good transitions, with a healthy balance of new stuff and old stuff and brand new stuff and not so old stuff and whatever else grabs my attention.

So, why would I cut corners? Why would I spend less time on it than I could or should? Because I'm stupid, that's why. And so are you. We all are. We lose sight all too easily not only of the big things that give life meaning, but the little things that give each moment of life purpose and contain the potential to turn into big things or to alter or affect big things. We avoid things that make us happy for things that don't. I'm no hedonist, but I do think this happens far too often. And when you can make a small change that you're damned sure will affect big change, you do it. Or you should.

I'll be spending more time on this. It'll be better. And by this I mean both the radio show and this blog. If this is starting to sound like your run of the mill resolution, so close to New Year's as we are and all, I suppose maybe it is. I didn't set out to do it, but I think it's a natural thing to put things in order at this point of the year, to think of what was and what could have been, and to take the next step and start planning for the next year. This is just one way I'll make it better.

On Thursday, we're heading for Targhee. Friends of ours have a family cabin that we've been granted permission to use, and we're spending New Year's there. Not sure who-all yet, but it's coming soon. We're very excited. It's nice to be excited about New Year's. Staying at the cabin, taking the dogs for romps in the snow, skiing Grand Targhee, celebrating New Year's with a mess of other friends who will be out there, all of it. Can't wait. I've never skied powder before. This seems like the perfect time and place.

Top 10 of 2005

Since everyone else on the planet is doing it, why not me? In the time-honored tradition of end-of-year wrapups, here it is, my very own Top Ten Albums of 2005.

I preface this list by saying that, for me, this year has been remarkable for the depth of new music. So many great records have come out, so many exciting new bands have popped up, that it was extremely difficult to choose just ten. (So, of course, there will be a long also-ran list here.)

Perhaps this has been simply an effect of my re-awakening.

As I've written about here before, the first part of this year saw me wake up and walk out of my deep, dark, musical hole. I was and am still amazed at what I've found. I was so totally engaged in music for so long, so focused on finding it and writing about it and thinking about it and acquiring it and sharing it, that when I got married and left Austin, I just stopped paying attention. It was nice for a while. And during that time I sort of forgot what it was like to care so much about it.

Now I remember. And what a fantastic year it's been.

So, without further ado, here they are.

CHess' Top Ten Albums of 2005

1. Broken Social Scene ~ s/t
2. WHY? ~ Elephant Eyelash
3. Four Tet ~ Happiness
4. Clap Your Hands Say Yeah ~ s/t
5. 13 & God ~ s/t
6. Wolf Parade ~ Apologies to the Queen Mary
7. Animal Collective ~ Feels
8. The National ~ Alligator
9. The Decemberists ~ Picaresque
10. Brazilian Girls ~ s/t

Honorable mentions in no particular order which, in a lesser year, would have made this list easily: Okkervil River (Black Sheep Boy), The Books (Lost and Safe), Stephen Malkmus (Face the Truth), Spoon (Gimme Fiction), Art Brut (Bang Bang Rock and Roll), Wilderness (s/t), Sleater Kinney (The Woods), Boards of Canada (The Campfire Headphase), Bloc Party (Silent Alarm), Franz Ferdinand (You Could Have It So Much Better), New Pornographers (Twin Cinema), Beck (Guero), MIA (Arular), Caribou (Milk of Human Kindness), Iron and Wine & Calexico (He Lays in Reins), Death Cab for Cutie (Plans), American Analog Set (Set Free), LCD Soundsystem (s/t), Jeff Parker (Relatives)

So, there you have it. I'd love to see your lists, to hear criticism, or to share music with any of y'all who are interested.

WHY?

WHY?

Elephant Eyelash

(Anticon Records)

OK, so I've been sitting with this one for a while, soaking it up, marinating in it, and while I'm not so sure that it's "the Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain of our modern indie times" (Filter Mini, 10/05), it's a pretty damn good slab of music. Labels are lazy, but this band just invites you to try. Folk-rap? Avant-hop? Indie artrock hip-hop experimental freak folk... all of it comes into play during a listen to this record from front to back.

Yoni Wolf, who was Why? as a solo project for a few years and now heads up WHY? as a band, comes up with verse after verse of totally accessible everyman-as-freak lyrics, rolling them out in a near-deadpan singspeak that, after the necessary acclimatization, is just really cool. It's like my internal dork has found voice and form at long last.

The sound of light rain and burning leaves is the same... I'm fucking cold like a DQ blizzard, you act like a slut but you're really a freezer... Inhaling crushed bones through a dried up white out pen and writing the backwards racer in hot June rain in a matching blue and gold plastic bag poncho raincoat... In London where the sirens yelp like a helpless dog with his paw stepped on...

He goes from smart and sharp rap lyrics to weirdo free-association all a microsecond behind the beat, shifting the layers off time just a bit, making the music more dense and busy and turning the beat into a jarring shuffle that's tough to nail but wonderful to listen to.

The appeal of this record is, so far, for me, tough to put into words. If you don't think this is your kind of thing, just listen. Suspend judgement for the first few trips through, then listen to it again.

Chris Loves Macha: Macha Knows Chris Not

Alright, so I'm a little slow on this one, but in all honesty I didn't know this band was still making music.

Back in the day, when Macha and Bedhead sort of teamed up for the little indie lovefest Macha Loved Bedhead: Bedhead Loved Macha, I thought for sure that this would end up being my next favorite band. They brought the chill, but they threw down some cool crazy drums and Asiany percussion, putting a crashy ambient vibe onto the narcotic haze of Bedhead's style. F'ing brilliant.

Then they went away. Or at least that's the way it seemed.

And now (or, more accurately, last year) they're back with Forget Tomorrow, a gorgeous record full of exactly the stuff that made me love them: at turns ambient and lush, at others raw and spare, at all times totally unique and affecting. They have a gift for melodies that don't smack of melody--of tunes that are both immediately catchy and yet subversive enough to not fully reveal themselves until you've spent some time with them.

Thanks to Harlan for laying this on me. I heart Macha.

Freaky Friday

Hot times in Les Big Bois. Tonight, the queens of the country dirge, Freakwater, hit the Neurolux for some much needed good, dark, country music. This is good. Nothing can better reawaken a passion for a certain type or genre of music than catching a great show. It's been a while since I've felt like I give a rat's ass about country or country-related music, possibly a backlash to my ODing on it in Austin as well as a normal response to the lack of good music of this type up here in Whitaho. It'll be good to want to seek it out again.

Then again, I've seen Freakwater play a couple times, and although I love their records, and I wouldn't say either of the shows was 'bad,' I would say they did not blow me away. For whatever reason, I came away both times thinking that I expected it to be better. But, I go tonight with a clear head (well...) and an open mind (ahem), and in not expecting the world, I may come away with a renewed love for this music. At the very least, I'll get to hear the gorgeously rusty pipes of Catherine Irwin and the beautifully clear and high crooning of Janet Bean. (And I'll get to stare at the lovely Ms. Bean for at least an hour or so, which ain't so bad on its own.)

But anyway.

Their new album, Thinking of You (listen here), was made with the help of the fine fellows of Califone, and I'm anxious to hear how they'll pull that off live.

Art Brut

So, y'all ready for the next Brit band that's about to storm the US with a newer, sillier, snottier take on rock and roll? Like it or not, they're coming, and you are soon to hear the name Art Brut bandied about by hipsters and music geeks as the next Franz Ferdinand.

That statement may be a bit misleading, especially if it conjures thoughts of new and improved disco rock or dance punk or whatever the hell you want to call that pop-rock with the infectious backbeat and judicial use of high hat that the boys from Glasgow made so famous. You know what I'm talking about. Art Brut aren't doing that. They're doing something far sillier, far more basic--far more rock and roll, really.

They're ridiculous. Their songs are about themselves being in a rock band, themselves partying, themselves being themselves. It's absurdly self-referential, but that's the thing about it. As the singer says in "Formed a Band," "We're just talking... to the kids!"

Check out that track plus a couple others at their website.

http://www.artbrut.org.uk/release.html

I downloaded this CD from emusic because I was in a weird mood. (Apparently it's not available in stores in the US yet--ah, another great thing about emusic. And by the way, if you check out emusic and want to join, contact me first, that way you get a sweet trial offer and I get 50 free tracks for getting you to sign up. Everybody wins. Especially me.) I'm still not quite sure what to make of it, except for the obvious: It's silly; It's full of great hooks and catchy basic riffs; it's silly; and it's a hell of a lot of fun.

Check it out. It'll also be in the rotation over at RangeLife this week and, likely, many weeks to come. (RangeLife airs Wednesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 3pm, mountain time.)

Animal Collective

Animal Collective
Feels


I've resisted this band for a while now, based on a couple tracks I'd gleaned from various compilation CDs. It's weird. Its sounds are strange and delayed in ways that are hard to describe. The songs are assembled like they're a joint math-music project by genius kids on acid. Seemed to me that the tunes were either scary fairy tales that screeched in the night or teletubbyesque slackjawed daydreams.

But, I just downloaded the new album, and I may be changing my mind.

I'm on first listen as I write this, but man--and now I mean it in a good, intriguing, innovative sense--this shit is WEIRD.

Admittedly, I'm listening to this on crap computer speakers and haven't yet given it full attention or full stereo treatment, but so far, I'm being sucked in to this strange childish zap-brained netherworld. More to come, for sure.

Meantime, check out the first track, Did You See the Words, at the FatCat Records site, here. There are more to listen to, too. Flesh Canoe? WTF? And it's too bad Purple Bottle isn't one of the free listens. This is quite a track.

Statement

TV On the Radio, about whom I've written here before, have posted a free track and a very potent political statement.

Check it:
http://www.tgrec.com/bands/album.php?id=367

It's a track called Dry Drunk Emperor. Here's the chorus:

all eyes upon
dry drunk emperor
gold cross jock skull and bones
mocking smile,
he's been
standing naked for a while!
get him gone, get him gone, get him gone!!
and bring all the thieves to trial.

Guess who it's about...

Oh, and while you're there at the Touch and Go Records site, get ya a little learning on Dirty Three. I just got their new album, Cinder, and it's a good one. More to come on that later.

Back to the Life

We're back from the Big New Orleans Adventure, and it's now time to get back to normal life. Strange and hard to do so after all this, but it'll be good to get stable in the brain again.

So: Music.

I've gotten the big dump from friend Allison through her connection in Oregon, a certain someone involved in radio who's hooked me up to many a new band or latest CD. And all this from someone I've never met. God, I love this whole sharing business.

Cream of the crop so far: Lali Puna's offering of remixes and rare tracks, called I Thought I Was Over That. Fantastic stuff, much chill electronic beatifying and reworking of strong tracks by folks like Two Lone Swordsmen and Dntel. You can listen to a good bit of it at the Morr Music website. Lali Puna's take on (This is the Dream of) Evan and Chan is really something to get lost in. Taking the ethereal melody out and laying it on some skittering beat and nice effects, the track surprisingly does not suffer from the absence of trance-like fuzz or Ben Gibbard's vocals.

Other standouts include Koushik, some more chill deep thought electronic music that lives in the hazy fog between rock and dance music.

The most surprising thing to have captured my attention is the new album by Blackalicious, The Craft, which I'm really enjoying diving into. I've been through it a couple times now and it seems there's not a down or weak moment to be found. Great great beats and some outstanding vocal work. I know as much about hip hop as Brownie knows about disaster relief, but I'm enjoying checking this release through ears untainted by knowledge. Ignorance is bliss here.

Alright, back to normal. This ain't so bad.

Travel Blog

This week sees Cathy and I embarking on a different kind of trip. With the support of the Idaho and US Humane Societies, we are headed to New Orleans to help clear some dogs out of a temporary shelter that's about to close down. We'll be loading the dogs into a U-Haul and driving them from N.O. back to Boise where they'll either be adopted or placed in shelters until they're ok to be adopted.

None of you will be surprised to learn that Cathy's the one who's gotten us into this. However, I think you'd also agree that this is at least a worthwhile endeavor, and could be at most an adventure that will change our lives.

So, with camera and laptop in tow, we head out tomorrow morning on a flight for Houston. I hope to blog it at the travel blog, so check in over there if you're curious.

Okkervil River

There's something about seeing bands from Austin play up here in Idaho that makes me very happy and also profoundly homesick. The Gourds? Sure, that's obvious. There are strong connections to my life in Texas and, really, to my development as a human being that go along with seeing that band play. But Okkervil River? I've seen them a handful of times, I've got a couple of their records, and while I do like them quite a bit, I wouldn't consider myself attached to them or their music in any meaningful way.

Still, seeing them this past Saturday night at the Neurolux had a strange effect on me. They put on an outstanding show, full of their hallmark energy and abandon and yelling, and the respectable-sized crowd responded with enthusiasm, staying with the band even through the quieter moments of their loud-quiet-loud roller coaster ride. They were into it. So were we.

The strange thing is how familiar it all sounded. I mean, I'm familiar with their work, but I mean this in a larger sense. Back when I wrote for the Austin Chronicle I interviewed Will Sheff for a SXSW edition of the paper. When I asked him about whether moving to Austin has made a difference to the music he makes, he replied that he'd be making the same music no matter where he lived. I was surprised at this then, and I think I attributed it more to him not wanting to credit the scene more than he or his band's inherent creativity. In hindsight, I think I was at least partly correct. There is something Austin about that band, something buried deep that surfaces as part of the murky characteristics of Mood or Tone or Aesthetic or something indefinable like that. It's in the way the keyboards and the lap steel fit together, or in the way the rest of the bandmembers sing all the songs whether they have mics or not, or in the narrative quality of the lyrics or the sense of unrehearsed style they all had. Note: This is a good thing. It is a measure not only of style but of quality.

And stranger than this recognition of roots or pedigree was the effect it had. When the show was over, I was sad. Not in the sense of not wanting a good thing to end, but in the sense of leaving a place that I love. Oddly enough I don't really even get this feeling from seeing the Gourds play. Maybe I'm too close to their music. Seeing Okkervil River was less a big event than just a good show, more a feeling of being transported to Austin to see any one of hundreds of bands that would give me this same feeling. When it ended, I was only beginning to recognize it. Then it was too late.

I don't know what this all means. Just another layer on my already complex and freaky relationship with Austin, TX, I suppose.

Dramatics aside, the show really was very good. If you get a chance to see these guys, take it. Whenever you have songs this good, a band this solid, and a level of passionate engagement this high, it's not something to be passed on lightly.

I'm Too Much

Trouble

Only about 6 weeks back in the country after a wonderful trip abroad and already I'm reading through the travel blog every day.

I find it's getting harder and harder to stay content. I love where I live, I like my job more than I've liked most jobs, and all parts of life seem to have fallen into their proper places. But, still, the restlessness prevails, the wanderlust seeps into the front of my mind, and I find myself checking air fares and weather in far off places and just constantly wishing I were somewhere else.

Travel is good like that. It gets in your nose and your bones and creates a permanent place in the mind, a room off a main hall that you pass by often, where you can poke your head in and see how things are going and look back at trips gone by. But this, this is something else. It's distracting and troubling, a feeling that sends small tremors through the beams and mortar of everyday life.

On our last trip, I approached the day to day with the idea of just pretending I lived in a place. In Paris, or in Amsterdam, in this case. It was wonderful, a whole different style and pace of traveling, and I enjoyed it so much that I think I took it too much to heart. Now I actually do want to live there. Somewhere. And it seems so plausible. That's the trouble.

Wedding Bell Rung

The weekend is over. My little brother is married.

It was a hell of a time, starting with family arriving all last week, a bachelor party on Thursday, and the wedding weekend up in Stanley. Lots to report, from seeing family and friends to riding the totally burnt out Fisher Creek trail, but it'll have to wait. I'm now buried at work and have yet to get my head back together from the damage of all the festivities.

Brother married.

Fisher Creek scorched.
















Family gone now.

More later.

Fall

I rode to work this morning in the dark, accompanied by the familiar wet and cold of autumn. It's tougher to get out of bed in the morning, too. That happens when it's dark and chilly and I know I have to get on my bike and ride to work.

Fall must be here.

Though the official opening of the season is now a couple weeks behind us, and though it's already been dark during my morning commute ever since we got back from vacation, this morning is the first that's really felt like fall. I broke out the raincoat and the fleece gloves and even wore a hat under my helmet for the ride in. And just as I was dealing with the too-familiar dread of getting out in it first thing in the morning, I came around to the very familiar realization that it's not really as bad as it seems.

This change in seasons will bring about the obligatory re-ordering of life and all the re-commitment that goes with it, but this time it'll be a bit different. I'm committing to a training and fitness regimen for the fall and winter that will include a membership at the Y. I've never joined a gym before, so this will be some sort of experiment, but I've decided to engage in another training program for next year, and my winter training will rely less on actual road miles and more on a structured system including riding, spin classes, weights, maybe swimming, and most definitely a regular program of cross country and skate skiing.

In other big news, I drilled some holes into my house and shop yesterday, which allowed me to lead an actual cable from the router inside to my computer in my office, which means that at long last, for the first time since moving in, I've got reliable high-speed internet access in my office. This should change everything. And, to add to the excitement, when we make the move to re-do our bedroom and upstairs bathroom, we're going to include a small piece of money for renovations to the shop building. This way I can get a wall and some climate control without having to rig it all myself with second grade materials. Very exciting.

The lean-in to every new season causes this sort of shuffling and stocktaking in me, and I'm really excited about it this time around.

Them Gourds

I got to work at 11am today. Yes, it was a good night.

We started out at our place with a vat of sangria and about 30 of our closest friends. Great fun. We laid waste to 3 gallons of wine, a bottle of brandy, a crapload of fruit, a bunch of beer, and a table full of snack items. Very fun. Nice that so many people turned out early and stayed out late on a schoolnight.

I left the party and headed downtown early to try and catch Kevin Russell and whatever other Gourds I could round up so I could drag them to the BCRP studio and record some promo stuff for my show. I hovered about the Neurolux entrance, then went to the studio to set up, then went back to the venue, and stuck near to the entrance for a while. They never showed--well, they did, but they snuck in the side door and I didn't see them until they took the stage. Oh well. Kevin's promised to record a couple drops for me and send them via e-mail.

The Hackensaw Boys opened, and they did a fine job of whipping the crowd up. Good solid 6 piece acoustic music that sped around the stage and stomped all over, though without the "look at us and how hickish we are" facade of so many bands like that. They were good.

The Gourds opened up with "My Name is Jorge," which was a hell of a way to start, especially as it was followed by "Dying of the Pines" and then "Hellhounds." Great way to kick things off. They were having some sound problems, but they seemed to get them ironed out quick--due no doubt in no small measure to Rche being in the house--and got on with the rocking.

They put together a good set, digging into the old stuff, taking solid turns through the newer stuff, and even playing a couple tunes I'd never heard before. The biggest surprise of the evening was just how much Kevin's playing the electric guitar nowadays, as well as Claude's time at the keyboards. Suddenly dude can pound the ivories like mad. Really impressive. For a good bit of the night they seemed like a straight-up rock band, with Jimmy on electric bass, Claude on keys and Kev on the Fender, with Max switching between mandolin and guitar and Keith playing drums like he was back in Prescott Curlywolf. It was a big change, and one that could have gone over poorly. But they pulled it off and even had me hoping for more of it.

The first encore had Kev and then Jimmy come out solo, and to be honest I'm having trouble remembering what they played. I do remember that one of Kev's songs was new, original, and just beautiful. The final encore was a fairly rushed and obligatory turn through "Gin and Juice," which was a bit disappointing after the others and in light of everything else they could have played. It was done rock band style, which was a cool twist, but it still felt like "OK lets play this song and get the hell out of here."

Seemed like they had a great time, and we stayed and talked to Kevin and then Jimmy and then Claude until about 2:30 in the morning. Then we walked home. Getting to bed at 3am on a school night is great fun, and makes me very thankful that I have a flexible schedule and reasonable bosses.

Now the question: Do I go to Seattle this weekend to see The National, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, and M83? Long drive. Tough call.

Gourds Tonight!

Something about seeing these guys play always feels like going home.

Tonight, for the second time since we've been in Boise, The Gourds are coming to the Neurolux, and we couldn't be happier. Last year they came on Cathy's birthday, which was about perfect as could be. This year, it's our friend Allison's birthday, and we'll be celebrating beforehand with a vat of sangria the size of my car.

Openers tonight are the Hackensaw Boys, about whom I've been reading quite a bit lately. They were even favorably reviewed in Pitchfork, which was quite a surprise to me, as they seem to do their bluegrass offshoot without a trace of irony or hipness. I've checked out some of their tunes on emusic, and while I was expecting something closer to the frenetic acoustic insanity of someone like Split Lip Rayfield or that other Austin band that plays the Continental all the time (drawing a blank here), they're more thoughtful and carefully assembled and song-oriented than that. At least, that's the case on first listen. Tonight's set could be a completely different thing.

I've also been giving Blood of the Ram, the Gourds' newest record, plenty of air time lately, and the tracks there have definitely grown some on me. Some of it is as great as they ever were, and while other parts don't really hit me so hard, it's easy to identify the quality of the songs and the growth and movement of the band within them.

So, Gourds tonight. Very exciting.

The Race for Race

While I agree that the rush to blame the disaster in New Orleans on racism was a bit premature, or a bit kneejerk, or at least not well thought out and carried out in the heat of the catastrophe, I have to say I am far more disturbed by the backlash and by the stronger racism and hatred it's conjured up in us. I'm pretty sickened by the internet trash being sent around about it, as if racist whiteys are finally able to publicly rejoice in what happened and can now let all their demons out of the closet where they've been half hidden to play in the flooded streets and spit in the eye of any who disagree.

Both these attitudes are way off base and nothing but destructive. Blacks in New Orleans were inordinately affected by the hurricane--that seems undoubtable. Beyond that, it's really hard to know anything for sure.

The tube-glued couch potatoes among us seem to think they've got it all figured out, that black people--all black people--simply ran amok with guns blazing and peckers hanging out destroying anything of their city that wasn't already destroyed, and then started crying that white folk weren't helping them enough. That's about as simpleminded as saying that the country ignored New Orleans because the only people left there were black.

There is truth in both those statements, but neither of them is the truth. There's a big difference there. And, mostly, I just wish we could disconnect ourselves from the canned and distorted reality of the idiot box and show a little common sense and sympathy. Something very bad has happened, and beyond the local politicians and Brown and Chertoff and Bush, we're not so sure who played what role in all of this.

I guess all I'm saying is let's think, not just react. Let's not assume that everything going on down there has been captured on TV. It hasn't. Or that all these malicious and racist e-mail bullshit making the rounds have any kind of wisdom in them. They don't.

Let's think for ourselves.

Jazz Joint

There's a new joint in town.

I've started a new program for Boise Community Radio called Jazz Joint. Bet you can't guess what it's like...

Actually, maybe you can't. It's two hours, once a week, focusing in a large sense on jazz music. I say in a large sense because it's not your normal public radio jazz show.

Jazz Joint will have rotating host duties, so far involving myself and four other people. And far as I can tell, we've all got pretty different ideas about what this show will be. And that's great. That's the point. There's already plenty of homogenous jazz shows out there, playing the greats playing standards, and that's a good thing, but that's not our thing.

I turned in my first show right before leaving town for vacation, so I haven't managed to hear any of the other hosts' work yet, but I knew their musical ideas beforehand, so I'm confident. But, in these descriptions, I'm also guessing. I'll update this as I find out how wrong I am. Art Hodge is way into breakbeats and all types of jazz, Tim Whitecotten leans more toward the hard rock and avant-garde modes, Isabel Holt is well versed in the classic and historical side of jazz, and Dave Foster leans more toward the ambient, electronic, experimental versions. A really good combination of perspectives if I do say so myself.

My own take on it is pretty scattershot, to be perfectly honest. It's not even all jazz. Jazz music, mostly bebop and hard bop from anywhere in the late 50s to today, makes up the core of the show, but it only spreads outward from there. I work in some electronic music that is, if not actually improvised, has more of an anarchic feel to it, and I'm also trafficking some experimental rock and some plain old avant-garde instrumental stuff. Thelonious Monk next to John Fahey next to David Murray next to Four Tet next to Isotope 217... You get the point.

Or, if you don't, check out the show. It's on Wednesdays from 11 to 1, mountain time, on RadioBoise.

Return

My two weeks of travel have come to an end, and now it's back to the grind. Sure, it's been a relatively easy re-entry, what with Kristi and Steve's fantastic wedding up at Warm Lake this past weekend, a trip that included a great mountain bike ride on the Eagle's Nest trail and road, but still. It ain't vacation, and it ain't in Amsterdam, so I'm gonna go ahead and be depressed about it anyway, thank you very much.

Two weeks is not enough. I mean, it is enough in that I feel like I did go somewhere for a decent length of time and was able to get work and everything else completely out of my system and adapt to a different pace of life, especially my sleep schedule. But last Wednesday morning, as I wandered the streets of Amsterdam for the last time, I felt all too deeply that I wanted another week or two. I wanted to see and feel more of that city before leaving it for god knows how long.

But, no such luck, and no more vacation time to play around with, so here I sit, back in my office, blogging over lunch, feeling all sorry for myself because I have to work for a living like most of the rest of the world. Poor me.

Highlights of the trip are tough to pin down in one sense, as just the acts of wandering the streets and neighborhoods of Paris and Amsterdam and Groningen were wonderful nearly every minute. Dinner at Robert et Louise in Paris was definitely one of the more memorable moments, as were the few hours spent watching football in a pub with an extensive English-speaking expat community the next day.

While the wedding weekend in Groningen, in the Netherlands, was without a doubt the highlight of the whole trip, other Dutch moments stand out with more individual clarity than the rest. Seeing Four Tet at the Paradiso was perhaps the most amazing and unique experience I had throughout this trip, the one that most made me feel I was experiencing something that just is not available to me here at home. And, of course, Wilco playing their tour-ender at that same venue was a pretty fantastic time as well.

In some ways, as it always is, it's nice to be home. Good to see Gus and Henry, good to see friends and to be able to cook my own food and to be in my house and to have my own bikes and all that stuff. But, there's still melancholy and longing for the places we just were, and there's still the time-tested means of best dealing with these things: planning the next trip.

New Zealand next fall for the Mountain Bike World Championships?

Myanmar next year for some SE Asia trekking and exploration?

A few weeks with my car and my mountain bike exploring British Columbia?

It's decisions like these that make time between travel more bearable.

And, it looks like the music offerings are still coming through town. Tonight, a band called the Moggs are doing an instore at the RX and a show later on at the Bouquet. I hadn't heard of them before, but the tracks available on their website are promising. I think I'll check them out.