If you don’t know about WFMU, it’s simply one of the best things ever. If you love music and will never tire of exploring, always want to learn more, hear more, know more: you need this station in your life. You can listen online, you can listen over the air, whatever. They have until midnight to make their goal for funding the station this year. If you’re at all hesitant: go listen to some of the programming in the archives - http://www.wfmu.org/recentarchives.php - see just how much there is there, available for free to anybody with an internet connection. Or ask around: you won’t go far before you find somebody whose life got improved by WFMU. And then go to the pledge page and throw some money their way and spend an hour trying to decide which DJ premium you want because they all sound, and are, awesome.
That is my pitch! Give give give! OK!
STEREO!? (at Paradise Rock Club)
Uh, “Summer Babe?”
Malkmus + the Jicks are so loose tonight. Spectacular. (at Paradise Rock Club)
Pop songs are a set of tools used by many hands, as well as artistic statements made by a few, and instinctively I care more about the first. But these two sides are still connected by money, which makes “separating the art from the artist” a glib default position. So “I Believe I Can Fly”’s genuine power as a redemption song – it’s the most convincing self-help song I can think of – makes a lot of cash for a man who may well be irredeemable. And this is the tension “I Believe I Can Fly” can’t resolve and never addresses. Reaching out to a higher power is only the first step in the classical recovery process, which is designed to lead not just to personal change, but to restitution. So you can fly. Now what?