Music Video Week Part Two: Mayer Hawthrone Turns On The Charm

So one of the things that brought on this "Music Video Week" was the fact that it wasn't that long ago that the music video seemed like a completely dead artform. With MTV languishing in vapid, reality television hell and VH1 dealing with washed up drug addicts rather than adult contemporary and pop musicians, it seemed like the music video was going to go the way of the 8 track. Video may have killed the radio star but the internet and cheap-to-produce television killed the video star about two decades later.

Viral phenoms like those Midwestern scamps OK Go have revived music videos, and oft-viewed videos (Something that seemed five years back like it would become simply reserved for the priciest of pop stars) are now being made for dang near free by indie musicians in the artist's own backyard. Literally, sometimes.

This year it's more apparent than ever that the music video is alive and kicking, with unique videos being released by singular artists constantly and it's no longer simply a camera filming a fellow with his guitar, trying his darnedest to look hip. Yesterday, I blogged about Josh Ritter's more-perfect-than-perfect "The Curse" and it's successor is a fellow named Mayer Hawthorne with a video that plays out like an innocent, 1950's version of Lars and The Real Girl.

Seriously, I dare you to not have a crush on Mayer Hawthorne after watching this charmingly directed bit of perfectly produced pop bliss. I can attest that this gal didn't know all that much about Mister Hawthorne before this video made it's way onto my desk last week but in the days between then and now, Ann Arbor native Mayer's A Strange Arrangement has been weaseling it's way in to my summer rotation.

Additionally, you may have noted that Mayer Hawthorne is from the very same area I am from, the Detroit-Metro-Ann-Arbor-Ypsi conglomerate. Chances are, Mister Hawthorne, you have a google alert for your name so you may or may not be reading this. If you are, let's go grab coffee next time you're in town so you can charm my pants off in person.

Hitting on musicians via her blog? Yep, there goes my integrity...

Music Video Week Part One: Josh Ritter's "The Curse"; Romance and Tragedy... Via Puppets.

I can say with almost complete certainty that puppets have never made me cry until yesterday.

I almost feel half bad writing this blog but relevance it's relevance and not only is the following artist relevant to my life but he's becoming increasingly relevant in the public eye, finding himself the darling of NPR and Paste magazine in recent years.

I'm talking about Josh Ritter, a man who has been featured on The Hot Half Life no less than four times this month, pushing him dangerously close to Okkervil River territory. I can't help it though. Not only has Ritter released a nearly flawless LP this month but he's also made youtube all the more wonderful with his video for a "Southern Pacifica" duet with his wife and now, "The Curse", a track I fawned over in the past and have listened to over fifty times according to iTunes, has been made into what might be the most perfect music video ever made, and can be seen on the aforementioned Ritter loving NPR.

The song's lyrics, perhaps the best example of Ritter's impeccable storytelling from his no-short-of-prolific career, lend itself to a very straight forward music video, telling the tale of a beautiful young archaeologist who, in Egypt, unearths a mummy who awakens. It's love at first sight as the two travel back to the U.S. before the mummy is placed in a museum. Eventually, he grows tired of his confinement and that's when things not only get interesting and whimsical but also so beautifully heartbreaking that I cried the first time I heard the track. And I'm so tough that I can literally count how many times I've cried in the past year on one hand. So the fact that Josh touched me so deeply is saying quite a bit. And the fact that the song made me, a girl who has never wanted a serious boyfriend much less to fall in love, want to experience the type of adoration that Ritter sang about is saying even more.

The video for "The Curse" is acted out just as it's sung only instead of using actors (Although the song would lend itself perfectly to a twist on the classic Karloff Mummy movie), the video is produced with marionettes that were crafted by Ritter's multitalented drummer, Liam Hurley.

I didn't think that "The Curse" could get any more endearing than it had but Hurley has managed just that.

Anyone who hasn't taken a chance on Josh Ritter's music owes it to themself to set aside five minutes to watch "The Curse".

You won't be sorry.

The Hot Half Life Presents... Theme Week, Volume One.

Every now and then, I get on a mega-kick with writing. It's funny because when I have no reason to write, I seem to get a million ideas, however, when a deadline is rapidly approaching, I tend to scoff and put it off as any good writer would.

So I was having one of these "big time writing" days and queuing up various posts for this here Hot Half Life when I realized that an alarming amount of these entries were focusing on something I hadn't spent very much time on in the past: Music videos.

Thus, I've decided to introduce the first Hot Half Life theme week, focusing on new music videos and a few old ones that are worth a watch.

First up? Josh Ritter's absolutely beautiful video for not only my favorite track off his latest record, So Runs The World Away. but also one of my favorite tracks of his no-short-of-prolific career, "The Curse". What's better to kick things off than one of my favorite artists? Well, kicking things off with one of my favorite artists and marionettes! Let's do this, kids.

Examining The Existential Questions Posed By Interpol

Interesting Hot Half Fact About Interpol:

• Interpol makes me feel extraordinarily hip. For me, Interpol is the only American band that makes me feel like taking suggestive black and white pictures, dress all in monochrome, chain smoke menthol cigarettes, and wear ridiculously large sunglasses. Usually, only French music makes me feel that way.

What I'm getting at is that Interpol makes me feel like a hipster.

And I'm okay with that.

Sure, I scoffed at the band for being "Joy Division Redux" when their debut, Turn On The Bright Lights, came out of New York in the hey day of genuine New York hipster music (Seriously, remember when The Strokes and Yeah Yeah Yeahs first came out and people didn't scoff at you for trying to dress like Karen O. but instead thought you looked both crazy original and just-plain-crazy?), but did my complaints keep me from rocking the quartet's CD all summer long? Not in the slightest. It doesn't seem to matter how long I go without listening to Interpol, it seems the lyrics to "Obstacle 1" are engrained in my head, and with good reason. To me, "She puts the weights into my little heart and she gets in my room and she takes it apart" is the epitome of early 2000's hipster lust.

I'm not going to lie and say that I adore Interpol. I have a solid amount of respect for them and, in turn, the solo career of Paul "Why isn't he dating me?" Banks under the moniker Julian Plenti, featuring video cameos from Hot Half Girl Crush Emily Haines of Metric but I've never been a huge fan of the fellas. Now, that's striking me as sort of shame.

You see, there seem to be two types of music I really take a shine to. The first is that folk stuff I wax poetic so often about. The second is seductive rock and roll with fuzzy vocals and a dapper lead singer, a fondness for which not only explains my ridiculous crush on Franz Ferdinand lead singer Alex Kapranos but also begs the question, Why didn't Interpol ever rise to Ferdinandian ranks in Hot Half Hq? Also, while we're asking questions, would bands like Bad Veins sound the same if it weren't for Interpol proving there was a place in the world for cinematic indie rock and distorted vocals outside of garage rock? Would I have developed such high standards for fellas if it weren't for dapper gentlemen like Kapranos and Banks? And why the heck don't more guys dress like they're in Inpterpol?

Ah, the existential questions posed by Interpol, the answers to which we may never know.

In the meantime, make like me: Blast these songs, put on your best skinny black pants, and look self-important.

Interpol - Obstacle 1

Julain Plenti - Only If You Run

The Song Of The Summer: A Look At Miniature Tigers "Gold Skull".

It wasn't that long ago that I posted about my most recent Miniature Tigers adventure, this time at the Majestic Cafe in fabulous, luxurious Detroit, marking my first trip to the younger sibling venue of the haunt of my youth, The Magic Stick, and marking the, I believe, fifth time I've seen the Tigers in the span of one year. To keep from repeating myself verbatim, I'll simply direct you either back to the original review or below, to a short summary of the events that unfolded in mid-April (You know, minus all the stuff that doesn't pertain to the music because someone's got journalistic "integrity" to keep):

The Phoenix-L.A.-New York quartet's debut, Tell It To The Volcano, consisted almost entirely of a timeless sort of indie pop. Taking their cues from early 2000 bands like the sunshiny Phantom Planet and the only good album Weezer ever produced, Miniature Tigers put out a record that was at once classic and completely modern, making an instantly endearing LP that didn't catch on nearly as much as it should have. If there's one band that every person who appreciates lovely music should adore, then it's probably Okkervil River. But if there's two bands that every person who appreciates lovely music should adore, then it's Okkervil River and Miniature Tigers.

Although I had heard a vast majority of the band's new material after seeing them play multiple times in multiple states over the past twelve months and I quite liked it all, the fact of the matter was that the prospect of a new Tigers album made me just as apprehensive as it did excited. After such a solid debut, where was there to go?

Up, apparently, if lead single "Gold Skull" is any indication.

This is the type of song that has the potential to invade Sirius Satellite Radio, blow up the blogosphere, be featured in Apple iPod commercials, and weave it's way into the world's collective summer consciousness, turning Miniature Tigers from under-appreciated indie darlings into crossover sensations, not unlike Phoenix, who's "1901" tried to make me by a Lexus and who's "Listomania" is still inescapable on Sirius 21 through 26.

I've always been of the opinion that organic music is better than synthetic production but that's a phrase I might soon find myself eating because the dancability of "Gold Skull" is undeniable wonderful. Since making it's debut on Stereogum, the track has become something of a summer anthem, worming it's way onto every mix I produce and easily quickly becoming the most played song of the season at Hot Half Life HQ.

Miniature Tigers - Gold Skull

For me, the mark of a truly wonderful song is if I can imagine it playing during a montage of movie-esque moments from my life and in my opinion, "Gold Skull" is some Focus Features shit. Let's, for a moment, explore the idea that my life is a painfully self-aware indie romantic comedy, about a young music journalist who's spent the majority of her twenty something years being so career driven that she's let her personal life go by the wayside. After her magazine goes under, she finds herself returning home to Detroit and realizes that there's only one thing she needs in her life and it isn't her job. It's love. Of course, learning to "let people in" is easier said than done so much hijinks ensue.

During the inevitable wacky road trip that she takes with two or three of her most darling friends, across the country to go see a wicked killer concert that cannot be missed, "Gold Skull" would undoubtably be playing as the girls drove in the sunshine, with their windows down, and sunglasses on. Think the driving scenes in Wristcutters: A Love Story. Only with less facial hair.

So what are you waiting for? Snag that track and score your own summer.

Like what you hear? Preoder the forthcoming FORTRESS and while you're at it, do what I did and spring for the sweet bundle to get yourself the album, a record, a tee shirt and the bag that I'm more excited than words can describe to use, meaning that after a good year run, I can finally retire my Bad Veins tote and upgrade to canvas that features not just incredible art by Tiger Rick Alvin Schaier but incredible art by Tiger Rick Alvin Schaier that features boobs.

He Is The Dot.

Nothing bums me out more than an awesome indie band that releases an infectiously perfect and blissful song that goes unnoticed by the mass populous.

That's pretty much what happened with Denver's amazing duo, Young Coyotes. "Momentary Drowning" is everything that's great about music: Woahs. Handclaps. Dreamy vocals. A melody that takes you by surprise at almost every turn.

Why didn't that song go the way of MGMT's "Kids"? That's a mystery. Young Coyotes haven't made my dream come true of taking the opening slot on the fictional Zoo Tour which would feature the aforementioned Coyotes and Hot Half Favorites Miniature Tigers opening for Grizzly Bear. The Coyotes haven't even recorded a full length album.

While that does bum me out to an incredible degree, Young Coyotes also happen to be connected to something that makes me one of the happiest reformed hipsters in the world: A member of an awesome band taking part in a just-as-if-not-more-awesome side project. In this case, that project is Zach Tipton's I Am The Dot, making Tipton quite possibly the only man in the world who is in two equally awesomely named bands. Seriously: Young Coyotes. I Am The Dot. Who wouldn't rock tee shirts proclaiming those phrases? I'll tell you who: Squares.

While the name is a damn cool hook to get people to listen in, that isn't the best part of I Am The Dot by a long shot.

Young Coyotes have produced some incredibly catchy and evocative tracks on their two EP's, the first of which is available on the band's site for free, and Tipton continues the trend on his self titled and Minimal Love EP. Top it off with the fact that Tipton reps my hood in the song "Detroit, MI", and you've got yourself three of the top ingredients that make your band automatically beloved by Amber.

The results of I Am The Dot recall the dreamy nostalgia of The Shins first record, before Garden State ruined the magic of "New Slang", and it's an ace example of the right kind of lo-fi, not engineered insincerely to appeal to listeners the current lo-fi trend but rather purposefully. Tipton is producing the kind of indie pop that more bands ought to take note of.

Don't believe me? Take a listen for yourself.

I Am The Dot - Oranges

Sadly, no Tipton project appears to be touring outside of the general Colorado area any time soon so I suggest you support I Am The Dot and Young Coyotes by becoming a fan of both I Am The Dot and Young Coyotes on facebook and buying their EPs, if only for the fact that I want Tipton to play "Detroit, MI" in Detroit, MI and I've always wanted to clap along to "Momentary Drowning".

The Hot Half Life is Late On The Uptake.

Sometimes, an album is so anticipated and hyped that the only thing I can do when it finally comes across my desk is... Well... Ignore it.

I say this sheepishly because some of the biggest albums in indie this year have gone woefully unlistened to by me. Broken Social Scene? I'm sure it's good but I just haven't had time. The Hold Steady? I love them so much but it's just not a priority. Joanna Newsom? Oh come on, it's three discs long, that's too pretentious, even for me. In fact, the only new release I think I listened to quite literally the moment I got it was Josh Ritter's mini-masterpiece So Runs The World Away but let's face it, that's a special case. Call me a music snob but sometimes, I'd rather delve into the unknown and discover something new or reminisce about an already beloved artists' stellar back catalog than fawn over the awesome new album that every blog, aggregator, and magazine is shoving down your throat.

That's why a good two months after it's release I'm only just not getting around to listening to The National's latest release.

I know that's something of blasphemy. Not only am I an indie kid, ergo expected to love The National, I'm also a Cincinnati-ite, ergo it's mandatory for me to have at least two albums by the Ohio-by-way-of-Brooklyn band on my iPod. Seriously. Find me someone of a hip persuasion in The Queen City who can't sing along to "Mr. November", and I'll show you a damn phony.

I've admitted before that The National grew on me slowly, after being beloved by all my indie rock adoring pals for at least two albums. Now, finally, I'm just as fond of them as the majority of my peers, with the group steadily climbing up from the dregs of my Last.fm chart and easing their way into my regular rotation. After being at first fairly underwhelmed by the lead single, "Bloodbuzz Ohio", off their latest album, the beautifully named High Violet, I realized that The National is one of those bands that has to grow on me as a whole. You see, I heard Alligator upon it's release and I listened to it once before shelving it for nearly two years. It was the same situation with The Boxer. Given that, I just wasn't entirely excited or willing to devote time to High Violet when I could spend it listening to, well, Okkervil River. What can I say? I'm predictable.

So it came as quite a shock to me that upon my first listen of High Violet, I found myself not remotely unimpressed. In fact, I didn't even find the CD "tolerable" or "decent". Instead, I found it to be excellent and very "National"-esque, meaning, I found it consistently solid, lyrically impeccable, and the musical equivalent of a very attractive earthworm, burying itself in the dirt of your brain and staying there, melodically boring into the very core of your thoughts.

The thing that I've come to love the most about The National is the fact that every CD The National makes is a monument to the emptiness and disillusionment one feels as they enter into adulthood. What's more depressing than being a writer who has to work a minimum wage day job just to get by? What's more tragic than a musician who has to sell their guitars to make rent? And what's more upsetting than an artist buried in student loans to pay for a degree that hasn't earned them a cent of recognition or profit? "Nothing" is the answer to all three of the questions posed and if the sentiment of being buried under your own misery is one you can relate to, then The National has an anthem for you.

All the familiar National themes are present on High Violet: Making missteps in your personal life, feeling overwhelmed by disappointment with your professional life, faltering in love, you know, all the things you go through in your twenties that make you feel like the all the magic's been sucked out of life and that's the main reason that The National have been getting increasingly more plays at Hot Half Life Headquarters. Let's face it: Being an adult fucking sucks and admitting failure sucks even more. If Lightning Love is the soundtrack to all the moments that I feel like a total fuck up but at peace with that fact and happy to not let it stand in the way of my good time, The National is the soundtrack to all the moments that I feel like a total fuck up who doesn't understand how life's going to ever be even a quarter of what I once thought it would be.

Sure, it's a depressing sentiment but the fact that I'm not alone in feeling that way is a beacon of hope in itself and while encapsulating those emotions, The National have made what is, in my opinion, the best album of their career.

The National - Anyone's Ghost

Track Removed At The Request of Record Label

Love Songs For Breakfast.

Two posts in one day? What's the world coming to? I hate to do it but I'm starting out my birthday the best way I know how: With love songs and cigarettes. Really, isn't that how every day should be started? Plus, after you watch the following video, you'll understand: This gem is too amazing not to share.

Josh Ritter and his too-cute-for-words wife, Dawn, performing "Southern Pacifica", another near perfect love song (with an absolutely stellar chorus, by the by) off Josh's latest, masterfully crafted So Runs The World Away. What tops this off, however? Josh and Dawn perform this in their kitchen. Hello heart. Prepare to be melted.

Oh, Hey, I'm Getting Older.

So it appears my birthday has rolled around again. It seems to happen every time this year and, well, since it's currently slightly after three a.m., I'm not sure exactly how this here birthday is gonna treat me yet but I hope it involves dresses, family, friends, a ridiculous headband or crown or two, and gorging myself on so much cake that I feel the strong desire to vomit... Y'know, in a delicious way.

Anyhow, I'm not going to reflect on this year much but it's been a whirlwind. Last year on my birthday, I cut off all of my hair in my bathroom, going from roughly twenty inches of hair to about five, and I guess there was some sort of transformative-finding-myself thing that took place. I moved from Chicago to Ohio to Michigan. I met literally hundreds of new people. I lost friends. I made friends. And now I'm willing to go out on a limb and say that, in the past two months, I've turned from a cynic and a skeptic back to a ridiculous optimist. I'm quite possibly happier now than I've ever been and I know that trend is going to continue throughout the rest of the year, maybe even the rest of my life. How do I know that? I just do. It's a blind sort of faith in happiness that I haven't had for six years or so and finding it again has basically changed me. I feel pretty bad for all the people I got close to in the past half-decade in a sense because the pessimistic and ruthless version of me that they met isn't me at all. I guess it's that whole finding yourself thing. And I found that naivety, expecting the best out of everyone I encounter, is a part of me that I like.

So this year, well, this will be our year.

And who are the we that I mention in this "our"? It's me. It's my friend Sara. It's other Sarah, Heidi, Gina, and the rest of the Gharbellyager clan that has helped make my return to Michigan less transitional and more like a real home. It's that boy fella I've got a crush on. It's my old family. It's my new family. It's my friends. It's everyone I've met and everyone I'm going to meet. Every musician I've successfully interviewed and every musician whose music has become a part of my day to day existence. It's you, if you're reading this, whether I know you or not. It's all the people I've loved and all the people who've died that I miss. It's me and it's you and I meant, when I set out to write this, to literally write five short sentences and call it a night. But I don't think I'm capable of keeping it short and sweet, am I? What can I say? I'm a novelist at heart.

What were those five original sentences, you might wonder? (Heck, I know you're probably not wondering but I'm going to pretend you were anyhow.)

So it's my birthday. I could wax poetic about that but I won't bore you. Instead, listen to this. It makes me happy for reasons I could list but sometimes, the song should speak for itself and at the end of the day, nothing sounds better to me than a simple folk song. I love it and I hope you do to.

Josh Ritter - Long Shadows

I Need Some Fine Wine and You, You Need To Be Nicer.

I used to wish that I was hip enough to say that my first concert had been Neutral Milk Hotel or Built To Spill (the latter of which you can see on a forthcoming Kings of Revlon tour, shaming the very fundamentals of music itself and encapsulating everything that's wrong with the music industry) but let's face it, I'm not quite old enough for that. At least I can boast that the cd I bought was Elliott Smith's Either/Or, followed promptly by discs by the two aforementioned indie legends. My first concert though? Well, it was a late '90's one hit wonder.

That used to make me feel sort of ashamed, as if I owed my indie roots better, as if my twelve year old self should have been just slightly more pretentious. It ends up, however, looking back, I knew something at twelve that I didn't at twenty:

The Cardigans are awesome.

A few years post-twenty and I appreciate that fact now, just as much, if not more than I did at twelve.

Hook laden melodies? Check. Interesting and unpredictable instrumentation that keep the band from being totally pop? Check. Sugary sweet vocals and lyrics that are alternately bitterly witty and just plain darling? Check. Completely sincere covers of metal songs? Double Check!

Combine that with the fact that frontwoman Nina Persson is a turbobabe and you've got yourself a charming band of Swedish winners that vie with True Blood's Alexander Skarsgard for the honor of being the countries best export.

Predecessors for much adored female fronted bands like Metric and The Bird and the Bee, I believe that if the Cardigans had emerged a decade later, they'd be a treasured indie band, remembered for all the things that make them so great, catchy, underrated, and glorious. But the fact of the matter is that the quintet is remembered instead for their one big hit, "Lovefool", a track more relevant now than it has been in over a decade thanks to teen pop sensation Justin "His Hair Really Knows Where It Wants To Go!" Beiber who hijacked the chorus of the track for a song I don't know the name of and really don't feel like googling. "Lovefool" is a damn glorious song, a perfect bit of pop that's just as irresistible now as it was in the summer of '96 when it was at it's peak of being ridiculously overplayed. Even so, it's sort of sad that if you mention The Cardigans to anyone who was alive in the '90's, that's the only thing they'll remember.

What they won't remember is the fact that the band abandoned the cotton candy sound of their first three discs completely in 1998 when they released the edgy, dark Gran Turismo, which featured all of the bands hooks but none of the pop pretense, seeing Persson replace fresh faced lyrics about the love with lines about substance problems, physical abuse, and love gone wrong. Pair the heartbreaking subject matter with Persson's sweet-as-ever voice and the band's tight and appealing melodies and you've got yourself a band that's just as hip as they ever were.

The Cardigans - Iron Man

The Cardigans - Your Favourite Game (Acoustic)

If anything goes wrong, Desmond Hume will be my constant.

Tonight, six years of my life comes to an end.

What does that mean? No more Geranimo Jack's Beard podcasts, no more trolling Dark UFO for spoilers, no more sharing theories at ONTD_Lost, no more mysteries, no more numbers, no more left-field character deaths, no more jears (Jack Shepard's tears, for the uninitiated), no more smoke monster, no more time travel, no more Hurley bird, no more fish biscuits, no more four toed statue, no more Crazy Jungle Claire and her squirrel baby, no more lame C4 casualties (Seriously, it was crazy cool and unexpected when it was Leslie "Mister Fabulous" Arzt, but it was played out when it was Ilana), no more Dharma initiative, no more Jack-Kate-Sawyer triangle, no more flashbacks, flashforwards, or flashswideways, and no more tailies... Oh wait, there were no more tailies by the time Season Two ended. Never mind.

It means there's no more snark from Miles, no more guyliner from Richard, no more nicknames from Sawyer, no more cheering for siblings Boone and Shannon to bone again, no more Pedobear feelings for little Jacob or David Shepard, no more wondering what the heck happened with Walt, and most importantly, no more Princess Faraday, which is probably the most heartbreaking part of this whole thing.

Obviously, I'm talking about the monstrously epic tale of the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815, Lost, a television show I've followed since the beginning. What can I say? Everything about this show is perfect and flawed at the same time, just like it's characters. Sure, all my favorites were killed off before the final season started earlier this year but regardless, I love this show as much as I hate it and it's leaving an island shaped hole in my heart.

So, in memorium of all the characters we've loved and - You guessed it! - lost, from Boone in season one, to Jin, Sun, and Sayid just a few weeks ago, I bring you a lovely ukelele strummed version of the show's sorrowful "Oh god, they're really gone!" jear-ful theme "Life and Death", as well as some of my favorite LOL-tastic, internet provided moments from the most recent chapter in my multimedia existence.

Life and Death - Jared Matthes

The Hot Half Life Examines... Perfect Songs. Part One.

I know it's unusual for me to post multiple times in the same month about an songwriter that isn't named Will Sheff but bear with me for a moment.

A few years back, I was briefly seeing this fellow. Obviously, it ended poorly (With me being dumped via e-mail, if we want to get specific but we don't need to talk about that. Specifics are for squares.) but we shared some fairly epic correspondences. This, of course, was in the naive days of youth when a three hour distance seemed earth shattering, something I scoff at now because in the years since, I've spent the majority of my time seeing people who lived anywhere from twelve to thirty two hours away from my midwestern locale but I've found that distance is, for me at least, something of a luxury. It gives me the excuse to handwrite letters, send out care packages, and craft mix cds but above all, it gives both myself and the other party involved the chance to get to know each other on a level more substantial than one would if your meetings were all casual, face-to-face encounters in barrooms and bedrooms. With carnal flirtation removed from your list of options, you get to find out if someone fits with you, compliments you, and contrasts you if need be. And hey, if butterflies can last via letters and text messages until the next time they manage to make it to your end of the country, well, then you've probably found yourself a keeper.

Anyhow, the aforementioned boy (Who we'll call "Stephen" here, for no particular reason at all) and I would send each other pages-long e-mails daily, compile songs we wanted to expose the other to, and banter back and forth about writing, existentialism, and all those other pretentious things that college aged hipsters banter about.

One day, I decided to make Stephen a mix of "perfect songs". Included were Iron and Wine's "The Trapeze Singer", Okkervil River's "A King and A Queen", and John Lennon's "Real Love", amongst seven to nine others.

He broke up with me before I could give him the cd and we tried to be friends but whoever started the facebook group "'We can still be friends' is like 'Your dog is dead but you can still keep the corpse'" was spot on. Knowing that my feelings were unreciprocated made the effort involved in keeping in touch not bittersweet, but just bitter.

I haven't thought of that for a long time. At the time, I was pretty devastated but I only felt that devastation for maybe a week or so and it hasn't affected me since. The only piece of that story that lingers is the bit about perfect songs because every now and then, something strikes you, and for me, it's usually a song that doesn't pertain to my life but rather a song that I wish could pertain to my life. Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever Ago is packed with perfect songs and perfect fragments of songs. The Monster of Folk himself, M. Ward, writes some of the most perfect love songs of our generation. And, naturally, that Will Sheff fellow has quite a few moments of sheer perfection, as evident on the majority of Okkervil River's Black Sheep Boy LP.

Earlier this month, I featured the collaboration between Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore. What I didn't feature, however, was the late-album stunner "Sweet Marie".

I could write another dozen or so paragraphs on what exactly makes this song so damn beautiful, why the lyrics and melody fit together so well, and how the cello and acoustic guitar couldn't be better matched for the soft waltz of the heart breakingly hopeful "Sweet Marie", but it would all be wasted because the song doesn't need explaining. It just needs your time.

Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore - Sweet Marie

Please Turn On Your Magic Beam, Mr. Sandman, Bring Me A Dream

Here's a fun fact about Amber for you: Thanks to spending so much time at her grandmother's house when she was a wee little thing, she has a ridiculous weakness for old songs. "Moon River", "Somewhere Over the Rainbow", "My Boyfriend's Back", just about anything from The Sound of Music or any Shirley Temple film, heck, I'm pretty sure I still know Patsy Cline's greatest hits by heart, from "Walking After Midnight" to "Triangle". After we veer out of Judy Garland territory, my admission gets slightly less cool but if I cared about being cool, I wouldn't say or do half the things I say and do.

Let's face it, I'm a nerd. I once admitted that fact to a fella I was courting while we were standing on his porch, smoking cigarettes. He told me that wasn't something I was supposed to tell people but no matter how calm and collected I pretend to be, at the end of the day, I still like to curl up with a Scott Pilgrim graphic novel and put on some Hellboy.

It seems to me, however, that "nerdy" interests like superheroes are more socially acceptable in my age group than admitting you know all the words to "Animal Crackers In My Soup".

One of my favorite songs from my youth has been recorded by youtube phenoms Pomplamoose, best known for their "indie-fied" takes on songs like "Single Ladies" and "Telephone".

What exactly is it about "Mr. Sandman" that makes me so dang happy? Well, to me, it's sort of the audible version of a Princess story. The way girls hold tales like Cinderella and Snow White in cherished, high regard is the way I feel about "Mr. Sandman" and not even it's prevalence in the Halloween movies could ruin that. "Mr. Sandman" is the type of song that makes me want to have a ridiculous crush - The kind that makes you feel young and happy in the most simplistic of ways, the kind that makes you smile for no reason and daydream too much. It's the kind of crush that makes you want to take walks around the lake with a certain cute boy, and sit in the park with him drinking milkshakes. Yes, that's all very fifties but so is the song so it works. At least in my head it does.

Pomplamoose - Mr. Sandman

Something, Somewhere, Sometime.

Sometimes I feel lucky to be a bit of a traveller. I don't identify one particular area as my "home" but rather, the entire Midwest. Detroit will always hold a special place in my heart as I in west Detroit, I was born and raised, although I didn't spend most of my days on a playground, but rather at a book store and then later, a hole in the wall haven called Repeat the Beat. Chicago was always a dream for me growing up, the holy grail of living a happy life, and I still hold the area in high regard. As for Cincinnati, it's a wonderful city filled with some of the most creative people I've ever met. I'm one tenure in Indianapolis away from having conquered the entire Midwest!

Anyhow, whenever any band emerges from obscurity and on to my radar from any of the above listed cities I've dwelled in, I can't help but feel a sense of pride. Perhaps I feel that way the most about Cincinnati because of my age and the fact that I was so "in it" there, much more so than I was in Chicago as the fact of the matter is that Chicago's local scene is severely lacking because of all the immense amount of national acts that live there and travel through.

When Lexington's Ben Sollee and Northern Kentucky's Daniel Martin Moore released their collaboration on Subpop, it generated quite a bit of interest in the local Cincinnati scene because, for those not in the know, Northern Kentucky is an honorary part of Cincinnati. For example, I road my bike to Kentucky on more than a few occasions and Cincinnati's main venue, the Southgate House, is right across the river in Ky's Newport. The interest in the release was not unwarranted and it only takes one listen to any of their songs, particular the featured track "Something, Somewhere, Sometime" to understand why these two relative unknowns from Kentucky landed a deal on Subpop.

The songs on the duo's collaborative release Dear Companion have a timeless quality to them that make it almost guaranteed that the songs will age impeccably. Equal parts affectingly honest lyrics and elaborately delicate melodies driven by Moore's Appalachian tinged guitar and peppered with Sollee's cello, Dear Companion has already secured itself a high spot of the best albums of 2010. It's certainly the best album of 2010 so far and I highly doubt too much will be able to force it down the list (Although Lightning Love and Miniature Tigers are probably going to do just that, as both Hot Half Favorites will be releasing their sophomore albums before too long).

Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore - Something, Somewhere, Sometime

Sometimes I wish I could make a cd for ex-fellas explaining why things went wrong. "Something, Somewhere, Sometime" would definitely be a featured track on the potential mix (although truth be told, I recently put the track on a song for a boy I currently like, without any context other than the fact that it's a dang pretty song). Honesty like "If I've wounded you, I'm sorry. I had good intentions", makes the track a perfect apology for not liking someone that likes you, no matter how hard you try and the fact that the song is so well suited for such a task makes me want to go through with making the "Wow, I Was Kind Of A Bad Girlfriend." mix. Of course, the fact that "Good Time" by Lightning Love ("I'm too young not to mess around"?) and "Don't Think Twice, It's Alright" by Bob Dylan ("You kinda wasted my precious time"?) would also be on said mix prevents me from actually following through with any pipe dreams of a "break up mix" because I'm only human and I do like to get out of relationships with a slight amount of dignity intact. But honestly, people do make cds when they have crushes on people! Why don't they make cds when they stop having crushes on people?

Oh. Right. Probably because that's mean.

Regardless, none of the above sentiments diminish any of the beauty of Daniel Martin Moore and Ben Sollee's collaboration. If you need further proof, check out the following video of the fellas performing the above song live at Grimey's.

And what would a Hot Half Life post be without a link to another amazing Daytrotter session? Ben Sollee and Daniel Martin Moore's session, featuring absolutely gorgeous versions of album tracks "Dear Companion" and "Try" , can be found here and solo sessions from back in the proverbial day are also up on Daytrotter. Moore's can be found here and Moore's is here.

The duo is touring sporadically and hopefully more dates (particularly Midwestern dates) will be added soon because they're definitely at the top of my "Artists I Need To See Live Right Now" list. Check out Daniel Martin Moore's site for more details.

Wait. They don't love you like I love you.

I had a conversation in the semi-recent past with a fellow music blogger about how all songs boil down to being about one of two things: Girls or drugs. Well, "love or drugs" might be more accurate. Regardless, in the months between then in now, I've noticed just how true that is. Sure, there are songs about politics, there are songs about working dead end jobs and harboring pipe dreams of living out a rock and roll fantasy, but the vast majority of songs are either about love. Or drugs. And sometimes, songs are even about both.

But drugs aren't important and we're not here to discuss who does what in their extracurricular time. Instead, we're here to talk about matters of the heart. Yes, again. Apparently, your favorite sarcastic and baggage-ridden blogger has become quite the sap recently, writing blogs about and making mixes of love songs but if I bet you that whatever song you're listening to right now is about love, chances are, I'd be at least half right. Because it's all about girls or drugs.

Maybe it's the fact that such a thing was pointed out to me or maybe it's the fact that I've got a number of weddings in the forthcoming months to prep for but I've been hearing the overtones of love just about everywhere I go. Mix that with my penchant for cover songs and these next two songs are right up my alley:

I think we can all agree that a few years back, when MTV still had "Music" in the title and when the garage rock revival of the early 2000's was at it's peak, Brooklyn trio Yeah Yeah Yeahs' song "Maps" got incredibly overplayed. I was lucky enough to be introduced to the track before radio got it's dirty mitts all over it, having seen Yeah Yeah Yeahs open for The Liars the year prior to their debut album's release. When I first heard "Maps", I think I had the same reaction that most people did: Holy shit, I thought, that is one beautiful love song. It was a shame how overused the song became in such a short span of time but now that that's faded, what we've got left is one of the more gorgeous tracks of our generation. Who that saw Yeah Yeah Yeahs first national tour before Fever To Tell's release would have thought that the same girl that growled and caterwauled whilst pouring beer all over her lithe body would be composing such tender, revealing, and candid ballads?

Arcade Fire is a band that I've never paid enough attention to but when I do give them the time of day, I'm always pleasantly surprised and their cover "Maps" is nothing short of lovely. If there's one thing I love just as much as cover songs, it's handclaps. There aren't any handclaps to be found here but if there's one other thing I love just as much as cover songs and handclaps, it's duets. I do have quite the lady crush on Yeah Yeah Yeahs frontbabe Karen O. and I'd never want to blaspheme about her but the fact of the matter is that Win Butler and company may have given the sassy and brilliant fashion trainwreck a run for her money with their melodic and understated, vocally driven take on the track.

Arcade Fire - Maps

There are certain musicians that I sort of hero worship. David Bazan is an obvious one and Tim Kasher of Curisve has nothing less than my complete adoration. Joining their ranks is the politically driven punk rocker from my mom's hometown, South Bend, Indiana, Ted Leo. To be honest, Ted Leo hasn't really done it for me in a while because his overt liberalism has started to feel more like preaching than him sharing his opinion but after producing such affecting songs as "Counting Down The Hours" and "Me and Mia" (Both of which rank on my mythical Top 100 Best Songs Of Ever Forever list), I can't not love the man. Usually, Leo can be found with his backing band, The Pharmacists, performing electrified sets that are more often than not peppered with at least one cover. My personal favorite amongst these covers that Leo does so well? A completely not-ironic take on Kelly Clarkson's "Since U Been Gone" with a bridge that turns into Yeah Yeah Yeah's "Maps". Below, you can hear or see (or both!) Leo performing the song flawlessly, solo and acoustic. Does it get any better than this? If it does, I've yet to figure it out.

Ted Leo - Since U Been Gone/Maps