I fail...

All right, I am a complete sell-out hipster and an embarrassment to myself, but if anyone else is going/wants to go to the Pitchfork Music Festival this summer, I could use the company. I'm going now because Beirut is going to be there and that officially puts it over the number of bands I can stand missing, even when music snobs and hipsters are involved.

I officially offer you a free spot on my couch and my Chicago expertise, and some pancakes, if you want.

Seriously. If anyone is considering going, I need someone to protect me from the hipsters. And, I mean, we're all supposed to see the Flaming Lips before we die, and Beirut is awesome, and so is Grizzly Bear, and I suspect I may actually learn to like The National if I see them live. Plus all the people I have no interest in/have never heard of, who may turn out to be cool.

I promise I'm actually a happy-go-lucky concert-goer, and not the sort of downer music snob who doesn't enjoy anything anymore (that's who I want you to protect me from).

Anyone, anyone?

No longer a river...

Once upon a time, when Set 'Em Wild Set 'Em Free leaked, I had the brilliant revelation that the album would sound really good on vinyl. This was also around the time that my mom was getting into some of my music, and so I thought "I'll kill two birds with one stone! I will get my legit copy of this on vinyl, and have it sent home for my parents to enjoy until I get a proper record player."

The album arrived at home yesterday, and after a bit of cajoling, I talked my parents into putting it on tonight. I'd already sent my mom the mp3s, and she'd given it a fairly favorable review, so I figured maybe my dad would like it too. But, as I was talking to my mom tonight, I kept getting weird vibes. "Your album is playing. It's a little dirgey, but I'm sure I'll like it after I listen to it about 10 times, just like everything else you've introduced me to. :)" She kept commenting on how deep the guy's voice was, and how depressing it was. "Well, I guess it is a bit slow at times," I said. My dad compared it to Black Sabbath, and said something about the occult. "I guess all criticisms are valid," I thought, and said "I think they're a little too... hippie, to be occult." I couldn't figure out why they didn't love this album as much as I did.

Then I got a call. My mother was apparently too overcome with laughter to continue our conversation online. Through giggles, she explained that the album was a 45. They'd listened to the entire album at 33 1/3. The entire album. "I kept telling him that was how it was supposed to be! Dirgey! You agreed it was dirgey! Who makes a 45 LP?" And it's true, I could not have predicted this. I am not all that experienced at at being old-school, and so I don't know that it's non-standard to have a full-sized album play at 45 rpm. Though, I admit, if I put something on and it sounded like a record playing at the wrong speed, I'd probably change the speed, regardless of whatever arty, experimental nonsense I suspected the band of. My parents are old! Old enough to have an extensive record collection! They're supposed to know better than this.

On the plus side, I got them to promise me slow-speed Akron/Family mp3s, so I could enjoy the album just like they did.

Edit (Days later): The surprise moral to this story, now that I've thought of what this situation must've been like, is that my parents must have a lot of tolerance for my eccentricities, and respect for my taste in music, to sit through an entire album on the wrong speed. It makes me feel kind of loved.