Hillary Clinton's Music Strikes a Minor Chord

While Senator Hillary Clinton's speech tonight at the Democratic National Convention in Denver struck an energetic, unifying tone, the music used in her tribute video and walk-on offered an interesting counterpoint. The video, narrated by Chelsea and played before her speech, kicked off brightly and energetically, with a couple of rock tracks that were considered edgy when they first came out but have since settled into the classic-rock pantheon. First we heard The Kinks' "You Really Got Me," which is based entirely around rising, pulsing major chords, in the upbeat "Louie Louie" style of the time. Then we segued into Lenny Kravitz' "Are You Gonna Go My Way," a track whose funky minor chords in the verses give way to celebratory major chords in the chorus. Next up, Tom Petty's "American Girl," whose chorus kicks off with major chords but then steps briefly into melancholy territory, with a few minor chords expressing a certain nostalgia.

Did Facebook Just Endorse Obama?

This past weekend I finally decided to launch myself a Facebook page. I was going about my business setting up my profile, editing my information, importing pictures, re-editing my information, and so on until I was ready to begin inviting friends. So I found an old buddy, clicked "Add as Friend" and this popped up:

I didn't notice at first. But then I saw it... look again at the words I was required to enter.

"voted ican"

Usually we're just asked to type randomly capitalized jibberish, but here we have an incredible promotion of civic engagement. How responsible of Facebook. Thank you, Mark.

But wait—"ican"—that reminds me of something... Seriously, did Facebook just endorse Obama?

—Jesse Finfrock

Merge Records's 20-Year Anniversary Collections to Remind Us of the Greatness of Merge Records

If you look up "Indie Record Label" in the dictionary, does it have a picture of North Carolina's Merge Records' logo there? Yeah, I know, "what's a dictionary." The legendary imprint will celebrate its 20th anniversary this fall with a set of subscription-only specially-curated compilations, which, as Idolator put it, are guaranteed to open the wallets of nerds worldwide. The first CD will be curated by R.E.M.'s Peter Buck and Junebug director Phil Morrison, while celebs like Jonathan Lethem, David Byrne an Amy Poehler are lined up to take charge of future discs. You can start ordering them on September 8th, and they're limited editions, so set your alarms, my fellow nerds.

The label's 20-year existence is bookended by two bands who are symbolic of the "indie culture" of their time: Superchunk, whose music Merge was formed specifically to release, and Arcade Fire, whose two recent full-lengths were the label's greatest financial successes by far. But they've released a lot of other fine music in the interim. After the jump, some Merge-tastic videos from a few of my faves.

Mining for Gold

After more than two weeks of shot putting, somersaulting, sprinting, and spiking, the Beijing Olympics have come to a close. And for the first time in 72 years, the United States isn't standing atop the podium.

China has come away with the most gold medals, walloping the US 51-36. And while home countries often claim more victories in the year they host—Greece procured an impressive 16 medals in the 2004 Athens Olympics—few countries have seemed as driven as China and none have toppled the dominant USA in a quarter of a century. And the US is having trouble dealing with it. The UK edition of the Times Online noted that the United States is defying the traditional system by keeping tabs of the most overall medals instead of golds (The US scored 110 overalls to China's 100)—a move summed up in the headline "America Refuses to Accept Defeat in the Olympic Medal Count."

Most Americans will gauge this Olympics, as they always do (ok, maybe a little moreso this year), by its heroes: Michael Phelps with his record-breaking dominance and supportive single mother; Shawn Johnson and the Chinese coach who guided her to gold in his hometown. Don't forget your Michael Phelps gold medal tribute to remember! But fluffing Phelps' feathers aside, the medal tally matters. When billions of people around the world see that you're the top dog, it's an unbeatable global PR push.

Outside Lands: Slogging It, Part Two

An hour and a half after our streetcar adventure began, we made it to Golden Gate Park Friday evening with more than a half an hour to spare before Manu Chao took the stage at 6:15.

Making our way through the gates took another 45 minutes: We entered the park at 19th Avenue, the closest entrance to the box office and our passes, but the festival map did not label the intra-park streets, which snake around and break off into tributaries. I figured this was the organizers' way of testing our spatial-reasoning skills.

This thought was confirmed when, after we realized we had walked too far and turned around to backtrack, we saw signs labeled "media check-in" and "will call" with arrows pointing us in the right direction. The sign was hanging on a fence, facing away from anyone who entered the park at 19th Avenue.

My Outside Lands Experience: Worth the Fog and Trouble

First of all, not to rub it in to my streetcar-entrapped Mother Jones colleagues, but a motorcycle makes things a lot easier.

To those of you who aren't located within about a 10-mile radius of San Francisco, let me remind you of our unique meteorological situation. The California Current brings cold Pacific Ocean water south from Canada, while upwelling from the frigid, murky deep peaks during the summer months, making our ocean waters colder in June and July than they are in December. The summer sun heats the land in central California, causing high low surface pressure, and sucking the chilly, saturated air in from the sea and over SF. This creates the famous fog, which everyone thinks is so charming in pictures but actually feels like a soggy blizzard. It's my personal theory that the Bay Area's notorious political uniqueness is actually a symptom of meteorological alienation from the rest of America, frolicking in the summer sun while we huddle around our space heaters. Whatever else our shivery summer isolation causes, it makes an outdoor music festival in Golden Gate Park, out by the ocean where thick fog is almost inevitable, seem about as attractive as spending an evening under the vegetable sprayers in the supermarket.

Outside Lands: Slogging It

Our downtown offices at Mother Jones sit just a few miles from Golden Gate Park, the site of the Outside Lands fest, so to make sure we had a good spot for Manu Chao's set at 6, Brittney and I hopped on an outbound streetcar just after 4 yesterday afternoon.

After the train pulled away from Montgomery Street, we began talking about the bands we were excited to see: The Black Keys, Radiohead, Beck, Cold War Kids. It had been a long week at MoJo; our Military Bases project finally went live. We were looking forward to a relaxing night in the park.

And then approximately 12,639 tourists, hipsters, hippies, festival-goers, and unlucky commuters crammed themselves into to the train at the next stop. I guessed 12,634 of them were also on their way to Outside Lands. Suddenly, I became acutely acquainted with the aromatic heft of Old Spice deodorant under the arm of the guy who wedged in next to me to grab the pole over my head. Two women, probably on their way home, sitting in the seats just in front of me looked up at the crowd that had made the train a can of sardines; their faces wore Kurtz's horror.

So many people had squeezed in to the train the door wouldn't close, so the conductor politely informed the crowd not to lean on the bars that, when pressed, open the doors when the cars stop at street level. Ten stops and ten similar announcements later, he'd lost his patience: "DON'T LEAN ON THE BARS! THE BARS KEEP THE DOORS OPEN! GET OFF THE CAR! CAR TWO! I KNOW IT'S YOU, CAR TWO!" A girl at the back of the car put it even more bluntly: "Get off the f*cking bars! Get off the f*cking car!"

We were half way there.

—Steve Aquino

Outside Lands: Radiohead Makes History

Thirteen sets and two Natalie Portman-sightings later, the first night of San Francisco's Outside Lands festival wrapped up by 10 p.m.

While acts ranged from Cold War Kids to Manu Chao to Beck, the night had one consistent theme: confusion. You couldn't find a sign leading you to an entrance, but we found a stash of unused signs, including the much needed "Restrooms this way," stored in the crew area. And in lieu of "branded stages" companies sponsored interactive exhibits such as exclusive lounges that required a specific Visa card for admittance.

Yet efforts toward greening the event, the unique food selection (think shrimp ceviche), and a spectacular location helped us forget the organizational troubles. Not to mention talented visual artists decorated each stage. Plus, as the first group to ever play in Golden Gate Park at night, Radiohead's show was as visually stunning as the music was enthralling.

Despite some organizational glitches, the Outside Lands festival is off to a solid start.

—Brittney Andres

Murakami's Running Lags Behind

I can't tell you how excited I was to read Haruki Murakami's new memoir, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running. As a runner and admirer of Murakami's work, I raced to the bookstore in hopes of discovering thrilling personal connections between myself and the great novelist.

Unfortunately, what aspects I could relate to— the pain of training for a marathon; the feeling of running outside in the wet New England fall—were eclipsed by a parade of high-school-gym-class-style clichés ("Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional."). Even more disappointing was the pace and style of the book: The rambling trains of thought did not arrive at interesting destinations, and despite Murakami's claim to months of careful editing, the collection is about as organized and well thought out as your average LiveJournal entry.

And that's what this book seems to be—not a memoir or an essay collection so much as Murakami's personal blog, printed out and placed between two hard covers. And no matter who keeps them, personal blogs are ultimately records of the quotidian. Even giving Murakami the benefit of the doubt—perhaps his hackneyed phrases are much more beautiful in the original Japanese—the book cycles again and again through the kinds of small revelations that I have on every run. Running is hard. Running is like writing. These are not insignificant, but neither are they worth $21.

2008 Conventions: Who's Performing?

I'd love to attend the upcoming RNC and DNC, if nothing else just to watch the live music performances; and yes, this makes me a geek. Despite several lineup reports, when I called event planners today to confirm, my call to the DNC went straight to voice mail and folks at the RNC said to call back next week.

Until then, I'm going by a scattered reports from the interwebs:

New TV on the Radio Picks Up Where Beck Left Off

New York combo TV on the Radio made my #2 album of 2006, so when I learned that a track from their upcoming album, Dear Science, was available to stream on their web site, I clicked over there as fast as my mouse could take me. First of all, what's the deal with indie rock bands and wedding announcement fonts? Are they trying to steal a little bit of Ellen DeGeneres' blog fire? Okay, just had to get that out of the way. The song, "Golden Age," is a little more accessible and straightforward than the angst-ridden material on Cookie Mountain; it's got a jaunty little beat and buzzy synths reminiscent of Beck's "Hell Yes," although unlike that song's focused, quirky minimalism, "Golden Age" builds and builds until the whole band is singing along with a crazy horn section. I'm having a bit of trouble making out the lyrics, although at one point Kyp appears to rhyme "natural disaster" with "ghetto blaster," which deserves an award in and of itself. Either way, this is at least my song of the month.

Dear Science is out September 23 on Interscope. After the jump, Beck's "Hell Yes" for comparison, and TV on the Radio's "Wolf Like Me" from 2006's Return to Cookie Mountain, just for fun.

Hooray: Rachel Maddow Gets Her Own MSNBC Show

Nothing against Dan Abrams. Air America host Rachel Maddow will be taking over Abrams' 9 p.m. slot on MSNBC effective, like, right away: Abrams will sign off Thursday and Maddow will kick off her show September 8. The move has long been rumored since everybody thought she was awesome, and Abrams will stick around in a general manager role. Everybody's happy!

After the jump: More praise for Maddow, and watch her take down Pat Buchanan.

Whut If Barack Wuz a Kitteh?

The lead-up to the convention just got a little weirder. Adorable, but weird. Check out Slate's video of "Pol Cats: The Treadmill." It's a "satire" of Hillary and Barack's political aspirations, as illustrated by two felines running on a treadmill. Hillary is a fluffy calico, and Barack is a black cat with tiny white socks. If we wanted to get literal, the Barack cat should be half-white, but hey, they're running on a freakin' treadmill. The video's not hilarious, but it's probably more entertaining (and infinitely cuter) than the slew of post-convention political commercials that's in our future.

(Image courtesy of lolcats4obama.com)

Your New Favorite Band: Glasvegas

Like with most things, I'm a little late to the party on this one. This Scottish quartet came in 4th in the BBC's "Sound of 2008" poll, and NME ranked the first version of their single "Daddy's Gone" as their #2 song of 2007. Well, Alan McGee was way ahead of everybody: the Creation Records svengali who discovered Oasis spotted them in 2006. But there's still time to get on board before the backlash!

If you're wondering, here's what they sound like to me: imagine the Jesus & Mary Chain got off the drugs (mostly) and did some songs with Billy Bragg. There's a homey, folksy, eternal quality to their music, but the fuzzy almost-rockabilly sound lines them right up with hipsters like The Raveonettes. But while those two live out their '50s cinematic fantasies in their lyrics, Glasvegas sing about what they know, with a brutal plainness that Hemingway might have admired. "Daddy's Gone" offers no resolution, just emotion: "To see your son on Saturdays/What way is that to live your life?" New single "Geraldine" floats in on a Brian Eno-style whisper of guitar noise, and the stadium-size chords are definitely reminiscent of U2. But lead singer James Allan has a thick Scottish brogue that seems to double the syllables: "My name is Geraldine, I-eem yee-er sow-cial woer-er-kerrr!" Now that, my friends, is an accent.

The band are planning a quick tour of the East Coast in September and October, and while they just signed to Columbia, apparently the debut album won't be out until 2009. Oh well. Watch some videos after the jump.

New AC/DC, G N' R Albums To Be Wal-Mart Exclusives?

Let me get this straight. The music industry is in crisis, as sales plummet and stores consider eliminating CD sections entirely. Artists with name recognition are exploring new avenues of distribution, bypassing the retail store entirely. So, say you're a beloved rock band with a highly-anticipated new album coming out. What do you do? How about you force your fans to jump through ridiculous hoops and go on a freakin' retail scavenger hunt just to track it down? Brilliant! And thus, AC/DC is requiring that anyone interested in their first new album in eight years, Black Ice, to get in the SUV and head out to Wal-Mart or Sam's Club to pick it up (starting October 20th, for $11.88). Not to be outdone, Guns n' Roses are in the midst of negotiations with either Wal-Mart or Best Buy for exclusive retail rights for the mythical Chinese Democracy. Ah, the music industry: answering complaints that its business model is inconvenient by making things more inconvenient. Well, just you wait; when I release my album, it will only be available on a ledge halfway up the side of K2.

New U2 Recorded By Some Guy Walking Past Bono's House?

This is silly. Yes, U2 is supposedly working on a new album, No Line on the Horizon, with a tentative release date later this fall. But check out this ridiculous story: apparently a "cheeky holidaymaker" was strolling past Bono's pad in the South of France and heard what sounded like new U2 songs blasting from the windows. Said pedestrian just happened to be carrying some sort of easily-accessible recording equipment with him, with which he taped the tracks, then raced home to post the recordings on YouTube. The fact that this has happened before makes it even less believable. I mean, how close can you even get to Bono's house before the laser robots get you?

However, the recordings themselves (listen at Vulture) are oddly compelling, as lo-fi as you can get, featuring the buzzing of insects, passing cars (or possibly waves on a beach) and far-off conversations. While Vulture hopes the noises won't make it to the actual album, there's something kind of compelling about them, muffled far-off tunes on what sounds like a lovely summer night. It kind of reminds me of the KLF's hypnotic Chill Out, a concept album meant to evoke a drive through Texas and Louisiana. Come to think of it, playing a bit of an artsy prank on the media by having your music "taped" from outside your house is kind of KLF's style, too. Has Bono been taken hostage by sheep-wielding million-pound-burning art terrorists? Enjoy a bit of Chill Out after the jump.

New (Leaked) Music: The Verve - Forth

People think I'm an arrogant jerk, but I really do try to be nice. Honestly. My friends go crazy for Coldplay, and I try to focus on Brian Eno's epic production; buddies want to watch Roger Waters for three hours, and I'm a good sport and hang around. But The Verve has caused perhaps insurmountable rifts between me and my hipster pals. They love The Verve, and I think that other than the inspired sampling on "Bitter Sweet Symphony," Richard Ashcroft and co are dull as doorknobs, whiny, plodding, a fine example of Britishness covering up lack of ingenuity. Like Sigur Ros, they're lumped in with a genre populated by good and great bands, but they just don't measure up. The Verve split in 1999 after Urban Hymns brought them worldwide fame, but recently have come back together for a few live shows. Forth is their first album together in ten years, which leaked onto the intertubes this week.

Poor McCain, Even Jackson Browne and Mike Myers Are Against Him

Can't somebody throw the guy a bone? John Mellencamp said "uh-uh," Chuck Berry said "sorry," even fellow politician John Hall (he wrote "Still the One") said "no dice." Only the Rich part of Big and Rich seems to care. Well, it turns out that the McCain campaign is just shooting the moon now, culturally speaking, throwing copyrighted material into their ads willy-nilly like a demented mash-up hooligan. I guess the Republican presidential nominee should take it as a compliment that people are still paying any attention, since a couple more artists have sued to make him stop. First up, Jackson Browne is none too happy about "Running on Empty" being used in ads for the senator, apparently without a license, filing suit against McCain and the Republican Party. A McCain campaign spokesman denied they had anything to do with it.

But they've got a bad track record: just a few days before, Mike Myers demanded the McCain campaign remove the "Wayne's World" clip from their "celebrity" anti-Obama ad. The campaign's Michael Goldfarb tried to make a joke out of it, blogging that "apparently, we are not, in fact, worthy." Ha, but overlooked is the fact that they put one of the most recognizable moments in Saturday Night Live history in a TV spot, and didn't think to call anybody? Could they possibly just be playing a cynical political game, breaking the rules intentionally just to get some coverage? Nah, they wouldn't do that. Well, hey, John, you kooky culture jammer, if you want to use some of my mashups in your commercials, you go right ahead. I'm sure the original artists whose rights I never bothered to get wouldn't mind…

World, Shut Your Mouth: The Horror of Public Radio Call-In Shows

Much of the time, public radio is a calm, thoughtful oasis in the fart-joke maelstrom of commercial FM broadcasts. But at a certain point in the daily schedule, most public radio stations suddenly turn from interesting to irritating, filling time with that most lazy and obnoxious of programs: the call-in show. It's a high-minded ideal, letting the actual public on to "our" radio stations, but unfortunately, in every case, the public that presents itself is yammering and paranoid, either astonishingly bigoted or pathetically whiny, and the shows are unlistenable embarrassments. Why do public stations waste 1/6 of their day on them?

The other day, NPR's long-running Talk of the Nation attempted to address the issue of gays in the military. One caller drawled that "those people" knew the rules when they joined, so they deserve what they get, while another sobbed through an endless, baffling story about breaking up with her girlfriend or something, and I never figured out if she was actually in the military or not. All these shows are like this: hosts seem frazzled and nervous, dreading each call, stammering interruptions when the monologues get too crazy. And why hasn't anyone figured out how to signal a caller that they're now on the air without 60 seconds of am-I-on-yes-you're-on-do-you-mean-me-yes-go-ahead back-and-forth?

On the Charts: Mamma Mia, M.I.A., Conor Oberst, The Verve

Various combinations of the letters "m," "i" and "a" did pretty well on the Billboard US charts this week, plus we can all celebrate the fall from #1 of the eardrum-rupturing "I Kissed a Girl." Hooray! First, on the album chart, the Mamma Mia soundtrack jumped to #1, which is a little weird since the movie is currently a weak #6 at the box office, just behind the Traveling Pants sequel. Well, as we all know, people like ABBA. The rest of the Top Ten consists of standard fare like Miley Cyrus, Kid Rock and Coldplay, although Omaha's got reason to celebrate this week, as favorite son Conor Oberst's self-titled album debuts at #15, while The Faint's Fasciination sneaks into the Top 50 at #46. Take that, Boise!

On the singles chart, Rihanna dominates, as her terrible adventure-in-autotune robo-electro number "Disturbia" climbs to #1, while the marginally better "Take a Bow" sticks around at #4. Lesson: America likes Rihanna. But holy Clash samples, ladies and gentlemen: M.I.A. is now officially a Top 5 Artist in the U. S. of A., as "Paper Planes" jumps 11 spots to #5 on the strength of online sales inspired by Pineapple Express commercials. It's like I've woken up in some strange bizarro world; what next, a #1 hit for Portishead? The track is down a bit on iTunes today, from #2 to #5, so this may be its chart peak, but hey, we'll take it.

After the jump: Richard Ashcroft explains sightlessness.