Fear Street

The other blog on this account is for my music project Fear Street. It started to come into fruition in 2009 and the first album, Experimentations, was finished and released in December 2010. Since then, I have recorded four more full-length albums and an EP, which are available for download. The latest album, Not Too Bad, was released on July 31, 2013. The blog has track listings and info for each release and links for download, and I have also have a Soundcloud with personally selected songs for your listening-only pleasure. 

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Here are direct download links for the albums:

Not Too Bad

Funpalera

The Rainbow Tape

Ditties Plus! (EP)

Pure Dirt

Prairie 'Merica

Prairie is a new-ish brewery out of Krebs, Oklahoma with a rapidly growing reputation for unique, quality brews. Their specialty seems to be saisons of the hoppy/funky/winy variety, but they also delve in other styles - (notably the highly-rated imperial stout 'BOMB!'). 'Merica, however, certainly falls into the former category. The label describes it as an American Farmhouse Ale that is 7.5% alcohol. It gets the job done using one malt (floor-malted pilsner), one hop variety (Nelson Sauvin), 2 brett strains and wine yeast. One malt, one hop, one 'Merica!

(They have cool labels as well.)

This beer is extra hazy and the head is luxurious. Upon even the tiniest first sniff, you know you're not about to drink a run-of-the-mill saison. Those looking for a traditional or well-balanced version of the style may be disappointed - it is a Nelson Sauvin/brett takeover, plain and simple. All sorts of oddball foot funk, dank tropical fruit, and just for good measure, some cat pee as well. The taste ups the hoppage and accompanying crazy flavors of lime, peach, grapefruit, kiwi, and some earthy weed tones. The brett still comes on strong bringing a sharp lemony tartness, funk and hay. Some wine and bready malts come through as well. Great mouthfeel with just the right amount of foaminess and not much of an alcohol presence, although its pungent nature does make this a sipper.

N.D.A.

Pete was on what he liked to call an N.D.A. – Nostalgia-Driven Adventure. Every so often, when he had a free day, he would drive to a location that was near and dear to him, often an ordinary place that was a landmark of his childhood; maybe that bench where he had his first kiss, or that small section of woods where shoddy dirt jumps were constructed and small acts of arson were committed. These were now merely locations that only existed as places and times stored away in his memory, like a dusty old photo album in an attic waiting to be reopened. More often than not, these unassuming meccas of youth were in his hometown of Ward, about sixty miles from where he currently lives. Since it was a bit of a drive, Pete would make a day out of it, often looking forward to it for weeks and planning other events around it. When some people seek adventure, they may drive cross-country, perhaps travel abroad. They may return with a series of photographs outlining their experience, eager to spill tales of triumphant arrivals, laughable mishaps, and woeful departures. These options to Pete, however, were an expensive bore – he considered his form of adventure to be small yet significant. He preferred that those close to him remained unaware of his actual intentions during these trips, often citing the aforementioned ‘other’ events for the reason of taking a daytrip – N.D.A. was a concert, N.D.A. was visiting an old friend from college. Before, during, and after an N.D.A., Pete was secretive and studious about his activities.

On this particular N.D.A., he was indeed headed to Ward; to visit his first place of employment – Campbell’s Groceries. He had worked there for just about two years during high school and hadn’t been there in some time (he estimated four to six years). It was on his N.D.A. checklist for far too long, and was excited to be able to draw that big, satisfying line through Campbell’s Groceries on said checklist. He actually wasn’t even sure it would still be there – as he drove down the highway quickly approaching Ward, he thought how crushed he would be to get all the way there just to discover it crushed, maybe still a fresh, cloudy pile of rubble. Or a landfill. Or maybe a new, different, clearly inferior establishment in its place. Quite ironic, seeing as he probably would’ve enjoyed seeing its annihilation as a teenager, but it was now a very significant place to him for many obvious reasons. It was his first experience working with the public, the horrible, horrible public, pushing all those carts around the parking lot during the horrible, horrible winters, and his first promotion – from lot to cashier. Ah, and all those things teenage employees who don’t know any better do – flirting with female co-workers while counting the register totals, and all those short drawers that followed. Giving friends all those discounts on all that horrible, horrible sugar water. Campbell’s was also the bearer of Pete’s first firing – promotion, indeed. Other than leaving him with a deep-seeded paranoia of nosy camera eyes and a slight blemish on his employment records, the firing hadn’t really affected him long term. Shortly after graduating college some seven years later, he had landed a comfortable and financially rewarding position at a flourishing advertising agency. The agency was the type of place where once you got your foot in the door and passed through an unspoken grace period of about six months, getting fired was almost arduous. From age 17 to 32, he had gone from a content and clumsy cashier to a detached and prosperous businessman. Pete loved the idea that places he previously used to dread now filled him with elation, wonder and good old fashioned butterflies – not much affected him like that nowadays; and it emptied him of his faded and jaded cynicism.

After getting off of the exit for Ward, he started to head in the opposite direction from Campbell’s - this was intentional, all part of the plan. Though it was much more roundabout than heading straight there from the exit, he wanted to start the drive from his old house and travel the same route he used to back in the day. If Pete ever considered writing an autobiography, it would be called “Back in the Day”. Tactics like this one were commonplace during N.D.A.’s; predetermined strategies that allowed him to achieve a nearly pure old-school experience. Some examples of previous procedures were borderline obsessive, like the time he visited a baseball field from his childhood. It was there, where during 4th grade, he had his first taste of team sports, which was a great hobby to him until college. For this occasion, he insisted that he would find the same yellow and white uniform he wore that season, branded with the Ward Tigers logo, but in adult size - and wear it on his visit. After months of determined hunting, though it killed him inside to do it, he settled for a logo-less uniform of the same color combo that he found at a thrift store for $3.99. To try and make up for this tragic falsity, he also bought a pair of cleats and shin guards to go with it, and in a last ditch effort for authenticity, scrawled “Ward Tigers” across the shirt in black marker. As he drove that old sacred route, he again pined for exact precision, wishing he had brought his bike along, so he could enthusiastically pedal to Campbell’s like he used to, “the way it was meant to be done.” Eh…, he thought to himself. I’d probably pass out from exhaustion nowadays…I don’t have that kind of SPARK or ENERGY anymore…who stole the soul??... Even for the young and fit, the ride on a bike was quite strenuous – about five miles each way and hilly all over. If only you could buy youthful dexterity at a thrift store. As he coasted down the last incline now, at the bottom of which was his final destination, he opened his window just a little more, letting his left hand fight against the breeze, remembering how good that same breeze used to feel on his face while traveling without this boxy, fascist vessel of adulthood. He wanted to close his eyes and take it all in, but remembered he was driving.

He reached the bottom, and breathed a sigh of relief as he approached Campbell’s, thankfully still standing and seemingly unchanged, except for what looked to be a newly paved parking lot. With his heart racing and his stomach in a knot, he got out of his car and headed towards the store. He passed the same old bike rack where he had locked his bike up all those times, and grazed his hand against the top while walking past, getting a slight chill from the combination of cold metal and a nostalgic twinge. While inside the store, he mechanically walked each aisle. Every now and then, to not appear too robotic, he pretended to browse for items, as he was attempting to remain incognito as just another average shopper – tricky to accomplish with no cart, basket, or list. He carefully observed his surroundings - though he felt that they were still very familiar to him, that he had ‘seen it all before’. One new frame of mind he couldn’t shake was that he couldn’t help but analyze all of the advertisements around him - every item in the store was essentially an ad, no matter how plain or subtle. As he pseudo-browsed, he judged various labels, boxes, and designs, weighing their strengths and weaknesses, picking them apart until there was nothing left. This irked him greatly as he felt work had no right to interfere with an N.D.A. He realized he was losing this moment, stuck in a swirl of slogans, and made it his way out of the aisles and towards the front end, where a number of cashiers were stocking batteries and dusting shelves. Busywork.  He had no interest in hunting down any old co-workers that still might be toiling away their days here, though as he approached the registers he did recognize two people he had worked with all those years ago – still bagboys, fifteen years later, he thought, though in a way he envied them.

He decided to become an actual customer and make a purchase, which consisted of a Snickers bar and a lemonade, his default snack choice while he was employed there. He worried that he may not be able to stomach this sort of food nowadays, as he was currently weaned on protein-injected granola and Caesar salads. After getting through the transaction ‘undiscovered’, he exited the store. He sat on a waist-high ledge right outside the door, his old favorite spot for taking breaks, his official stomping grounds. He opened a fresh pack of smokes, which he had bought specifically for this moment, and lit one up. For the next ten minutes at least, Pete was not a 32-year old ad man with a penchant for the past – he was a 17-year old cashier on break, indifferent towards any time except the present. Though full-on accuracy was not achieved (it never is), this is what he considered the sum of all parts; his journey had culminated – the route, the full store walkthrough, the snacks, the ledge, the cigarette. For Pete, this was as close as it got to time traveling.

now songs

The Magnetic Fields "All The Umbrellas in London"
from Get Lost

Just awesome. A perfect second-to-last track for this album, possibly my favorite from this album as well. Catchy, depressing, pathetic, what more could one want from this band? Cool intro/matching outro, great instrumentation, and all sortsa wonderfully sad lyrics that are equally melodramatic and memorable.

Link



R.E.M. "Green Grow the Rushes"
from Fables of the Reconstruction

I got this LP some time ago and as of right now have only given it a couple listens. It's noticeably more subtle than Murmur and Reckoning and although I like it, it hasn't really caught my fully grasped attention yet. This gem is as low-key as the rest of it, however, it stuck out right away - it almost feels haphazardly thrown onto Side B of the album. Its guitar-hook chorus is not only immediately likable, but irresistible. The rest ain't bad either.

Link



OutKast "Da Art of Storytellin' (Part 1)"
from Aquemini

This is probably one of the more basic songs (half-song?) from an epic album chock-full of complexity, but that beat, man. That beat. And those raps, too. Hits ya immediately. R.I.P. Sasha Thumper.

Link


The Jesus Lizard "Monkey Trick"
from Goat

Scary, pummeling and awesome all the way through. Vocals that vary from ramblings that are buried in the mix to abrupt, bloodcurdling screams. The bass line, the scathing guitar, the production.

Link


Bjork "Unison"
from Vespertine

Bjork knows how to end an album on a memorable and fitting note  - "The Anchor Song", "Headphones", "All is Full of Love" - the final song from Vespertine continues that tradition. Bjork stubbornly succumbing to the idea of choosing marriage over an independent loner lifestyle comes off as incredibly endearing, especially with verses like this: "I thrive best hermit-style/With a beard and a pipe/And a parrot on each side/But now I can't do this without you". I love how it starts at a quiet, tiptoe pace and enjoys a long, excellent buildup. Excellent vocals all around. It's cute without being cheesy and slowly becomes more and more epic.

Link