Tuesday is When the New Stuff Comes Out

by Patrick on March 3, 2009

Today, for instance, the new Neko Case album is out.  Please buy it so that she becomes wildly wealthy and makes more albums.  I listened to it on the train ride into work today.  I’ve written before about what a literary singer Neko Case is, and this album is no exception.  So far my favorite line is “I’m not the man you thought I was/My love has never lived indoors.”  Damn, that’s good.  Listen to it on Lala.com.  Read about it at Pitchfork.

On another note, my co-worker Anne gave me this little column that used to run in the Los Angeles Times Magazine.  I thought it was a pretty good illustration of the difference between an indie store and a corporate chain.  Anyway, here it is:

name-game

The nominees for the  Los Angeles Times Book Awards have been announced.  They always have an interesting list, and this year is no different. The nominees in fiction are Marisa Silver, Joan Silber, Richard Price, Marilynne Robinson, and Sebastian Barry.  Jacket Copy has a great post featuring content on each of the fiction nominees.  The winners will be announced at this year’s LA Times Festival of Books, where Vroman’s will have a booth (Stop by and say hello if you’re at the Festival, or maybe even ride over with us on our famous book buses).

I never know whether pointing people to a blog that has been named one of the 25 best blogs by Time Magazine is worth anything to anyone, but I’ll do it here anyway.  Since we’re talking about music a bit, I highly recommend that you click over to Said the Gramophone.  StG is an mp3 blog where the writers post songs and then write about them.  And boy can they write.  Check this out:

“The first half of this song is about how good it would be to move in with your lover. It’s coo and thump, swing and lick; it’s blue and rose. And then the second half of this song is about what it’s like once you’ve moved in. It’s a paradise in windchime and bassline, hair on pillow and ice in glass. I can’t help but imagine Daft Punk passed out, unconscious; and in that The Diving Bell and the Butterfly reverie, laying in bed, the sun touches the drapes, touches the floor, leaves fingerprints on yr chest.”

Nice, right?  It’s a great site.