The Alamo has all the typical college basement trimmings – washing machines, water pipes dangling from the ceiling, spray painted mattresses leaning against the walls – but the small space brings the band and audience closer together. Erin, the singer/drummer/guitarist in Sun Puddles catches the eye of someone two feet in front of her and beams a smile as she digs into a 70s punk beat at hyperspeed. When the reverb-soaked wall-of-sound guitars start chugging, the smiles become contagious and the crowd instantly turns into a collection of life-sized bobble head dolls.

Given the poor quality of the PA systems at most DIY shows, singing is usually left by the wayside. But for Sun Puddles, Erin’s voice is their trump card. Songs like “Coffee Cup” make me think of indie pop bands like Velocity Girl or Best Coast where the vocals are pretty and melodious but with an emotional perspective that’s hard to place. At other times, her atonal howling brings to mind the raw emotive power of the Screaming Females, making you feel the frustration of unrequited love rather than think about what it means. When she trades places with the guitar player, the lyrics become sparser to make room for more intricate song structure and a heavier hitting drum sound. Even when she does very little singing on songs like “Congratulations . . . Sorry”, Erin’s stage presence is such that when the mic stand starts to collapse mid-song, people rush the stage to fix it in fear of missing a single word.

When the next band, Real Good, is ready to start all the lights go out except for a single red bulb in the corner shining on the drummer. As he sparks a cigarette and nods toward the emaciated shirtless bass player, I make some earplugs out of pieces of a paper towel in anticipation of demonic hard rock. What I get instead is closer to a mix between the twisted pop hooks of the Velvet Underground and Pavement’s artfully dissonant vocal style.

Though the bass player jumps around like Flea at an early 90s Chili Peppers concert, Real Good makes you feel like singing along more than headbanging. At the end of the song “Three Points”, front man John Terry repeats the chorus line “there is no wisdom without risk” but it’s done with the appropriate amount of Lo-Fi shamble to come off as playfully ironic instead of pretentiously nagging. Other songs like “May 21st” show the band’s strength at manipulating tension-and-release. The familiar feeling you get hearing dreamy psychedelic guitar tones at the beginning of the song is later betrayed when the beat gets turned around and the vocals strain to belt out a daft, unsettling sense of helplessness.

Toward the end of Real Good’s set, someone trips on an extension cord somewhere and the whole basement goes pitch black. Suddenly, people in the front row start shining their cell phones on the hands of the guitarist and bass player like pilgrims who bring candles to a vigil. It’s moments like these that make basement shows feel more like a spiritual community than a concert. But with bands like Sun Puddles and Real Good residing at the pulpit, the only Good News anyone is trying to lay on you is a flyer telling you about the next show.

Original songs like “Summer Vacation” are what the band does best – a mixture of compelling chords and grungy breakdowns that’s reminiscent of garage rock revival bands like Cage the Elephant. But despite Harpoon Forever’s tendency to keep songs under 3 minutes, the quartet also has enough classic rock influence to dig into longer jams. Case in point: the epic show closer, “Paddle to the Sea”, which starts out with bouncy alt-country strumming but then dissolves into building repetitions of krautrock drumbeats structuring Sonic Youth-style guitar mayhem. Sure, you can’t hear the lyrics over the P.A. but the sweaty exuberance of the singer and his hipster cowboy style say enough.

After the show, I walk a few blocks to another house, Titan’s Rest, where southern Connecticut band Fugue is making a stop on their 2-week tour. Outside, people are sitting on the driveway peering into the basement windows like stray cats. It’s not a packed house but it’s so hot inside that the girl drummer Alexa remarks, “I’m gonna pass out” with a look like she means it.

After a short break and some water, Alexa nods her head and kicks off the next song with an aggressive prog rock beat that sounds like early The Mars Volta. When the three guitars begin to fade in with lyrical melodies and the singer triggers a sample of birdcalls, it’s only to lure the audience into a false sense of security. Songs like “What the Tortoise Said to Achilles” prove that this band is all about contrast: clean tones are juxtaposed with distorted ones, soft sections suddenly burst into raucous thrashing, and the lead lines play tug-of-war with the rhythm section. With a name like Fugue it’s no surprise that most of the band’s catalogue is instrumental, but some songs feature vocals that provide emotional context and sound like tribal yells laced with Portishead-style effects.

When the band finishes their set and I walk back out into the sultry night of late July, it feels like air conditioning compared to the sauna I was just in. Summer basement shows in New Brunswick are not for the faint hearted, but with bands like Fugue and Harpoon Forever on the scene it seems like things are only going to get hotter.

_____________________________________

To listen to these bands, check out the links below:

Again the embrace: a makeshift circle,

guitar wire scratch, the plucking of strings.

Earlier you asked me why I grow so

quiet with the music of friends. There,

the grace of your hands: chords of words

that don’t exist. The caress of keys like

fields of snow being praised by drops

of rain. There, the nameless voice of faith,

the crisp unwavering mother of absence.

How music gives a history of flesh to

the body: I at once this man and that boy

who threw fists of mud at the regal

autumn trees, for their awe was too much.

My feet that refuse tempo. The squalor

of my voice. How each song is like those

fading leaves: burning, godless, and

radiantly falling. And if I could offer any

-thing other than silence . . . I know

too just as autumn is not truly for us,

this moment is not for me. But I have lost

the name of my hands. I want to say

piano, cello, violin, but they are trespassers

to the arthritis in my wrists. The question

never why I threw wet earth at those

trees, but why they continued to bare

themselves of splendor, asking no

questions: only the gifts of the body,

only the gifts and the silences after.

Big Fat Marker is an indie rock band from South Jersey who operate out of the greater Philadelphia area. While “indie rock” may be the easiest classification for their sound, it is not entirely accurate. They describe themselves as a folk rock band and I am inclined to agree. The combination of great vocal harmonies, well composed lyrics, and gripping melodies makes me want to hear more and more. The songs “Morning Man,” “N’After” and “Sun Salutation” particularly exemplify those characteristics which makes this band so much fun to listen to.

I encourage, no–I implore the Johnsonville readers to listen to this band. If you like what you hear, then download their EP! I would also urge you, the reader, to go see a live performance. Based on my own experience seeing them play, I can confidently say that they put on a great show. On that note, in the coming weeks be sure to check back with the Johnsonville Press to watch our video with an interview with the band and a JVP exclusive performance!

To check out and download their music, please visit their website:
Big Fat Marker

Also find them on Facebook to stay up-to-date on upcoming performances!

Happy Listening!

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Photo taken by Mr. Jonathan Schoonover. All rights reserved.

RU Photography Club: Still Segues

Gallery Hours Friday 3-10pm Sunday 6-10pm

NEW BRUNSICK, NJ – Collaborative Arts is pleased to present Still Segues, a two-month exhibition that features the emerging artists of the Rutgers Photography Club, which is curated by Skyla Pojednic and Theresa Francisco. Our Opening and Second-Look Reception will take place on Friday April 22^nd and Friday April 29^th from 7-10 PM at coLAB Arts (49 Bayard Street, 3^rd Floor, New Brunswick, NJ 08901). The open receptions will feature wine and food and music by Alex Denman-Brice, Jeff Deppa and Damian Kulikowski. Normal gallery hours are Fridays 3-10pm and Sunday 6-10pm.

Mary Kate Riecks and Ceaphas Stubbs both use illusion in their work to create exaggerated or surreal scenes of movement.  Mary Kate focuses on the concept of kinetic energy by physically spinning, shaking, and dropping the camera to impose a forced movement. In other instances, she reworks her photographs by dragging colors, blurring or layering images. While Riecks focuses on physical movement, Stubbs creates optical illusions using patterned fabric that plays with the eyes’ ability to focus. He employs vibrating boundaries to create a confused space, which makes an otherwise static image appear to move on the gallery wall.

In contrast to Riecks and Stubbs, who both use the human figure as a supporting feature in their photographs, Samantha Kelly assigns people as the main characters in her images to elicit strong, spirited emotions from the viewer.  These moods are caused by her images of humans actively experiencing the world in a way that is very visceral and relatable.

Skyla Pojednic, Pablo Ruiz, and Matt Drews present movement within nature itself. As active members within the world, all three have gathered a great deal of images throughout their travels. Each has captured ethereal, otherworldly, or exclusive pictures documenting their journeys. Pojednic’s photos deal with gravity’s powerful control over the elements. The dynamic composition of her work not only shows literal movement, but also helps the eye travel harmoniously around the image. Ruiz creates epic and unfamiliar nature photographs.  He implements a single, central line to command movement through his pieces like a line across a page. Drews simulates the line through long exposures and slow shutter speeds, which clearly demonstrates his clever and resourceful techniques.  His patience and interest in meteorology are very evident in the rare images of a 9° and 22° lunar ice halo, which can only be captured when the clouds begin to move.

Emily Kohl-Mattingley sums up the show with her affirmation that life would not exist without the existence of energy, which supports all movement.  She captures many movements that the eye is too slow to see. She examines the relationship between a world filled with energy and a world in which the very movement and energy, which makes life possible, can so easily cease to exist.

Collaborative Arts (coLAB Arts) is a non-profit organization located in New Brunswick, NJ, dedicated to the development and presentation of emerging local artists. coLAB Arts’ mission is to cultivate a hip, mindful, and inclusive Hub City community of artists, audiences, and critics, empowered to create inspired and inspiring art.

Drum Ensemble

Saxophone – James Roy
Gyembe – Zanne Morris
Gyembe – Ronald Staley
Bangos – Melvin Patterson
Junju & Talking Drum – Mike Gyampo

Don’t miss an opportunity to meet the artist responsible for the thought-provoking sculptures and paintings currently on display at the gallery and, as a bonus, enjoy quality music, too! Click here for more information on Mike Gyampo’s solo exhibition.

(click here to learn more about this event)

November 20th and 21st, 2010 – “Omega Sound Fix” – Electronic Music Festival at Alfa

Saturday, 6pm-12:30am; Sunday, 4pm-10:30pm
One Day Ticket: $6, Two Day Pass: $10

Sonic Architecture Unveiled by Electronic Composers and Human-Robot Band at Underground Music Venue
Electronic Music Festival resonates in New Brunswick art gallery

Over twenty innovative international and local musicians will perform at the bleeding edge of sound on Nov. 20 & 21 at Omega Sound Fix. Headlining performers have performed with the likes of John Cage, David Tudor, Steve Reich, Lydia Lunch, Faust, and Throbbing Gristle and are exploring new territory this fall.

Richard Lainhart is an award-winning composer, author, and filmmaker renowned for his individual work and collaborations with John Cage, David Tudor, and Steve Reich. His compositions have been performed worldwide with his earliest sonic forays predating Brian Eno’s ventures into ambience.

Philippe Petit of Marseilles, France is an innovative composer, who considers himself a “musical travel agent,” and assembles “sound-images” with turn tables and digital wizardry. He has performed across Europe and the Americas with Lydia Lunch, Faust, and Throbbing Gristle.

Octant, a one-man and multi-robot band, will plumb the depths of cybernetic accompaniment on Sunday, Nov. 21. Mathew Steinke serves as the band’s Gepetto and sole human member. “I would go out of my way to see an Octant show…” writes CMJ magazine.

Tickets are $6 for one day, $10 for a two-day pass.  Doors open at 6 p.m. on Saturday and 4 p.m. on Sunday.

About Omega Sound Fix:
Local musicians, Mike Durek and Mark Weinberg, spawned the idea of an innovative and eclectic music festival during a mini-golf match last summer. Durek and Weinberg expressed frustration with the lack of a new music scene in New Brunswick and sought to fill the void with innovative sounds and talented performers. Click here for more info.

Contact:
Vaughn Benway
551.795.0223
vaughnbenway@gmail.com

(click here to learn more about this event)

__________________________

Photo provided by Alfa Art Gallery.

Discussions of neuroscience, physics, psychology, computer science, and even theology might prove helpful, but for the purposes of our journey, will only complicate the matter.

Musical artists seek to communicate some aspect of their own personal experience to others. Artists present their experience by intentionally creating variations in the patterns of pitch, rhythm, instrumentation, or volume of sound that they call their ‘piece’ of music. To the artist, these patterns are intended to be vehicles of representation for feelings and thoughts which are each, in turn, metaphors themselves.

On what organizational level does music store the information used to encode the artist’s ideas? Music is often organized by melody and harmony. Over time the development of a taxonomy of musical structure has made the dissection of great pieces so precise as to warrant the creation of entire academic departments devoted to their study. Until now, this study has focused mainly on elements such as pitch or rhythm.

However, with the advent of modern computing, the ability to piece together different sounds taken from established musical pieces suggests a new level from which to approach music. Contemporary communication: 8 track players, records, cd’s, and most recently, the internet, has allowed for the near universal distribution, consumption, and discussion of currently available musical pieces. The result is a far more common and universal value for various arrangements of sound. When individuals in society constantly deconstruct the meaning behind a particular song or band and then communicate their thoughts on the matter to everyone else in society, ideas of what these songs mean become more congruent across individuals.

While an individual piece of music ranging from Wu Tang’s “C.R.E.A.M (Cash Rules Everything Around Me)” to Paul Winter’s “Lullaby from the Great Mother Whale for the Baby Seal Pups” (LGM) may illicit different reactions from those who hear them for the first time, the near constant communication regarding these pieces between those who have heard them serves to eventually standardize the general reaction across this group. Whereas individuals with different backgrounds may have completely different initial reactions to a song, after much conversation they will eventually arrive at some middle point between their two original positions. Thus, anyone who is linked to the ‘music scene’ will share common emotional reactions to these shared pieces of music. Despite even significant variation in this perception across individuals, few would argue that Person A would find more in common between “C.R.E.A.M” and LGM than would Person B find in common with Person A on “C.R.E.A.M.” In other words, there would be a greater difference in the perception of “C.R.E.A.M” and LGM within an individual than there would be between two individuals in “C.R.E.A.M.”

Just as pieces of sound are used to create an aesthetic we refer to as ‘song’, this common perception allows for the use of ‘songs’ to convey an aesthetic.

As a result of our biological imperative for efficiency, humans employ symbols in their experience to refer to large pieces of information. This process creates the ability to process large amounts of data without having to constantly refer to the entire set being processed. Due to the common understanding of musical pieces such as songs, smaller sub-sections or samples of known songs can remind the listener of the aesthetic created by the original piece to which the sample refers.

As a musician myself then, I am able to convey vast amounts of information by arranging multiple levels of symbolic reference. Although I can certainly evoke emotion within listeners using the traditional tools of melody, rhythm and the like, I am hopelessly tempted by the vast cultural value present in sampling. Whenever skeptics hear that the majority of the music I create uses samples from other artists, they can, and almost always do, level critique suggesting musical or instrumental ineptitude flavored with a suspected artistic poverty on my part. Having played the violin for eight years, the bones for thirteen, as well as having performed in numerous professional and semi-professional productions since I was fifteen, as well as having taught tap, ballet, and hip-hop for five years, I’m inclined to label these people as idiots, philistines, or some other disdainful noun. This is intellectually lazy on my part, as it does not take into account the state of many ‘musicians’ who are currently using sampling/samples in their ‘work.’

There has been an explosion of kids using computer programs like Acid Pro, Logic, Reason, and Garage Band to string together looping samples of various songs with little to no relationship to each other, save the fact that the loops are discernable. What I mean by this, is that they are ‘hearable’ and do not prevent the listener from understanding that they are pieces of familiar songs. Usually, all musical value of these creations is largely excised by their creator and disguised as artistic work under the creator’s moniker “D.J. so and so.” Given the state of most sound created by playing well-known songs simultaneously, currently masquerading as a genre called mash-ups, the above discussion is necessary before presenting you with my musical offering. Sampling songs, and just presenting them are two different things.

The songs I present here were produced by piecing together samples from pieces so ubiquitous they have common symbolic content for the public. Anybody who hears them knows what they are from, and has an instant, unavoidable, and visceral reaction. In the case that I sample more obscure artists, the genres and sounds that I use are also selected for the super-structural value they posses.

Now that my exhaustive disclaimer is complete, I can launch into what I actually came here to do: Present my work with a symbolic primer that can help the listener to decode it. I thus will present two works, each with its own guide relating the sampling choices I made in their creation. Hopefully, the listener will then be suited to understand and enjoy them better.

- Brendan Kaplan

OVERJOYED:

Pieces Sampled:

“Joy” by Missy Elliot off “The Cookbook”

“Poor Leno” by Royksopp

Sounds Sampled:

Record Scratch

Candyland Bells

Bass Line

Tilt
Overjoyed

The piece ‘Overjoyed’ is designed to convey a frenzied, negative, and yet pleasurable sensation. The reversed candlyland bell line that introduces the piece during the vamp provides an ominous backdrop, which is created by reversing and speeding up an otherwise benevolent sound. As the number builds, the highly rhythmic and syncopated “Joyeee” sample repeats throughout the song to create a sense of focus on sensual pleasure. This effect is juxtaposed by layering the sample into minor chords repeated with a cut-time signature relative to the rest of the piece to convey an understanding of the cost associated with each material indulgence we take. As the piece continues, hip-hop record scratches work with reversals of the “Joyeee” sample to impose a subtle and yet necessary structure that helps the song build until the introduction of the base line. Through the use of the hip-hop musical lexicon, this structure also recognizes the gritty and impoverished genesis of the already established sensual focus the piece uses. As the number matures, the funky bass line is repeated at the expense of the original “Joyeee” sample to suggest that the hedonistic focus of the piece eventually leads to a change in lifestyle that can overshadow the original goal of the listener. As the piece fully progresses, the base line mutates into a perturbed computerized sound that is jarring and unpleasant, while still viscerally attractive. As this sound eventually fades leaving only the original samples used, the listener is both struck by the relative impoverished-ness of the piece without the base line while the creaking “tilt” sound reminds the listener how of the sinister addition to the asthetic of the song was the result of the process which brought them there. The piece ends with the same focus on material reality as conveyed through the “Joyeee” sample, but with the enticing candyland bell line replaced by the ominous “Tilt” sound. In the end, the listener ends in the same place as he started, with slightly more understanding of the nature of Joyeee.

MILKSHAKE OF LIGHT:

Pieces Samples:

Milkshake – Kelis

Temple of Light – Fable (Composed by Danny Elfman and Russel Shaw)

Sea Storm – Paul Winter

Shake – Pitbull (Which itself samples “Din Daa Daa” by George Kranz)

Shake that – Eminem

Milkshake of Light

The piece “Milkshake of Light” opens with slowed down yelling of a hip-hop/pop artist named Pitbull combined with the square toothed vamp 4 beat bamp from “Milkshake.” This jarring arrangement immediately gets the listeners attention which is then directed to two very different sounds. One is that of the song “Milkshake,” which is, or at least was a few years ago, an obligatory inclusion in the playlist of any shake-your-ass drunken college event. In this case, “Milkshake” is played far more slowly than listeners are accustomed to, forcing them to consider the meaning of the words Kelis is singing.

My Milkshake brings all the boys to the yard

and their life is better than yours

damn right they’re better than yours

Kelis’ “Milkshake,” both through the grinding beat and bongo drums is suggested to be a sexual product that presumably most individuals have, but that Kelis possesses in greater quantity or quality than most, while emphasizing the commercial nature of this “milkshake.”

I could teach you, but I’d have to charge

As the listener considers this, the haunting and tranquil melody of the Temple of Light sample provides contrast to the violent and cheap atmosphere of the first sample. As the piece continues and Kelis fully exposes the opportunistic way she uses her “milkshake”, she mentions that it causes “the guys “ to “lose their minds.” The contrast between this type of thinking and the harp “Temple of Light” sample is so stark that it forces the listener to fully appreciate the desperation in Kelis’ voice. The slowed down pace at which her revelations are presented provides a sense of suspense and ominous-ness as she delivers her final line “I think it’s time.”

At this point, the music breaks and the sadness of the “Temple of Light” music becomes overwhelming as its melody continues while seamlessly raising its octave. Additionally, Paul Winter’s “Sea Storm” creates a powerful sonic gale that further overpowers Kelis and along with her, the listener. As the groaning of Winters’ sample grows while the “Temple of Light” music metastasizes into a high pitched assault, Kelis’ desperate voice is barely audible. Pitbull’s “Baaaa” and Eminem’s “Shake That” clapping sounds, misogynistic lyrics, and steady beat punctuate the barrage with just enough rhythm and content to imbue the now violent force of Winter’s “Sea Storm” with a focused sense of loss and hopelessness. As the violence begins to fade along with “Sea Storm” a depressed yet comforted peace settles in as the “Temple of Light” piece enters its final and highest octave. It rests here only for a moment before fading back into its original form and finally ending with the sound of a record spinning after its song has finished. The listener realizes that the savage and brief experience of Kelis’ voice is now defunct, irrelevant and anachronistic. They are left to empathize with a life so tragic, seeming to make little difference to anyone.
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Photo courtesy of Mr. Brendan Kaplan. All rights reserved by the artist.

As I stroll through Kennny’s house, into the backyard, and up to the converted pool house-studio, I’m a little leery of what I’m getting myself into. The only thing I knew about the band was what I’d heard from Kenney when we golfed together in high school. He’d tell me about some of the other hardcore bands and about how many shirts he’d sold. It always amazed me how many shirts the band sold; it seemed like half the school owned an A Clear Blurr shirt.

As I open the door to the pool house/studio, I’m instantly met with chaos: members of the band are wrestling on the floor, throwing drumsticks, and calling each other names. I immediately think to myself, “Now this could be a very, very interesting interview.”

The studio only has one couch in it, so some of the band members and I sit on amp cases. As of now, no member of the band is above the age of 20. They’re all currently attending college, with three members at Middlesex County College and Kevin Nicotera, vocalist and guitarist, going to Rutgers University. When I asked them if it’s a coincidence that all but one of them is a business major, a smile comes to their faces. This is clearly an inside joke. Kenney tells me that a fan’ s father once told him to study business, so he did.

Every member of the band agrees that college is not the main plan; the band and becoming successful are priorities one through ten on their list. Bassist Karl Pearson says that if he had a steady paying job, he wouldn’t be going to school. Pearson also says that he’s got his own plan on how to make a living: underwater welding. Karl is serious when he relays this info to me, but his tone is underplayed by the fact that he’s wearing a furry polar bear hat.

The serious mood of college and what they each plan to do with their lives if the band doesn’t hit it big quickly dissipates. Someone throws a cupcake and hits someone in the face and then a brief wrestling match breaks out before Kenney wrangles the band up again. This little wrestling session seems to be how the band tackles everything: a serious demeanor about their music, but all other things in life are to be taken no more serious than a pair of clown shoes.

After being asked where they’re going, where they’ll be in five years, and whether throwing cupcakes and hanging out will still be a part of the daily routine, they all laugh. They all say that if things are the same as they are now, then they really do need to break up the band. The uneasiness in their voices is palpable, though, and it’s pretty clear that they don’t fully believe this themselves.

Their current manager, Kenney’s sister, has reduced her influence in working with the band since she now has a child. This hasn’t, however, stopped the band from performing almost constantly. I thought that the band might turn down a lot of shows, but the reality is much more exhausting. In fact, on the day I interviewed the group they were just coming back from a show the previous day and had a show planned for the next day.

This sort of work ethic is, quite frankly, shocking to me. My idea of a high school and now college band is of playing the occasional show for friends and spending the rest of the time just hanging out. I figured that because of all the shows they played, the band must be making some decent money. However, I am met with a somber answer that they as a band are currently $60,000 in debt. I know that A Clear Blurr was once sponsored by such large companies as Vitamin Water and Fox Racing, but since then Vitamin Water’s merger with Coca-Cola killed the sponsorship and the contract with Fox ran out. This seems to be the sad reality of undiscovered bands: in the time spent waiting to be found, you need to sink large amounts of money into travel, promotion, and take any sponsorship that is offered to you.

A reality this grim is unsettling to me.  It seems one’s love for an art is only as powerful as the amount of money you can make from doing it. Kenney and Pearson speak about how it’s not all about the money and that as long as they have enough to get by that they would keep going. The true reality appears to be that just making enough to get by is much more difficult than I even realized. Society has told them that if they want to play guitar or drums then that’s fine, but only as a hobby. This is where the whole business major and underwater welding comes into play. From 9 to 5, Monday through Friday, you are to go to work. Then, if you’re not too tired from that you can play your instruments.

As an up and coming journalist, I draw many parallels to the band. My own personal love of writing has driven me to the field; at the same time, many people say that there’s no money in journalism— if you don’t make it as a major journalist that is. While success can be placed into many categories— such as material, personal, and professional— one must decide one’s own definition of each.  For those like myself and the members of A Clear Blurr our own personal definitions of success are tied to being able to do what we love. Material success then is more related to our ability to continue to do what we love and not necessarily living in a mansion or driving an $80,000 car. Society may define success as money, but I know that my success is about waking up in the morning and knowing that I’m doing something I love.

For more information on A Clear Blurr, click here.

Today’s Submission by: Matia Guardabascio

1. Recommendation of the Day:  Check out “The Wanderer Sessions” from Pollifax. If you want to hear some quality, spur of the moment live music from some local musicians, and from musicians passing through New Brunswick, then you want to hear this shit. I am personally very impressed with the quality of the music and the way in which Kevin frames it in the videos. “The Wanderer Sessions” does a great job showcasing the good, young talent in and around Rutgers and New Brunswick, so check it out and spend some time discovering the music around us.

2. Quotation:  “Work hard to bridge the gaps between geography and lifestyle, for the older you get, the more you need the people you knew when you were young.”

~Baz Luhrmann, “The Sunscreen Song”

3. Random Interesting Fact:  Van Gogh created his most famous work The Starry Night while staying in an asylum in Saint-Remy-de-Provence, France. 

Van Gogh Facts

4. Top Internet Pick of the Day:  If you need to laugh at something, watch this episode of South Park, the finale of Season 3, which is probably my favorite:

The World Wide Recorder Concert (The Brown Noise)

5. Topic of Discussion:  If you could be a character from a piece of literature, who would you be and why?