Beulah Land

Mount Eerie-No Flashlight

Mount Eerie-Seven New Songs

Last night after about an hour and a half long pep talk from eric and anna, I finally tried talking to the bartender at aalto lounge, my favorite neighborhood bar. I believe I was supposed to say, "I'm sorry I can't keep my eyes off of you. I just think you are the most handsome man and I'd love to go get coffee with you sometime.." or something to that effect. Instead as he passed by to collect our many empty cans of pabst I said "sorry I keep looking at you...". "I'm sorry, what?". this is me standing up and invading his bubble space. "I said, sorry I keep looking at you". pause. chuckle. "Oh, I didn't even notice." this is me nodding my head, blushing, quickly and ashamedly taking my seat. He was polite enough about it. Probably due to the fact that he's a tattooed and fit young man working at a bourgieous hipster bar on belmont that practically drags lonely queers in off the street. Perhaps he was even interested. I mean, he did run up to the counter, in between the other bartenders to make sure he was the one to close out my tab as I was leaving. But as sure as drinking makes you drunk, I clammed up again and got out of there as efficiently as humanly possible without leaving my debit card behind, which in retrospect might not have been a bad idea. I'm very zen about the whole ordeal now. I suppose it's all part of learning how to play the game. But last night it was a different story. Let's just say Eric would have been better off hauling me away by the scruff of the neck than standing outside the bar in the drizzle and patiently reminding me that it wouldn't be a good idea to go back in and try again. It's times like this that make me grateful for technology. Had I not stumbled across No Flashlight while scrolling through my ipod and remembered that it's the perfect album for traipsing about in the dark I think I might have been a mess... or rather, a crying mess. Yes, The Glow Pt. 2 and Mount Eerie, the record before the name change, are the best albums Phil Elvrum has ever made. But I've found even a few die hard fans that seem to have forgotten or possibly even over-looked completely his post-Microphones work. Most of which is at least on par with and occasionally surpasses his previous efforts. Maybe I just think so because of all of the seminal moments in my life involving this particular iteration of Phil Elvrum's song-writing. Up until last night the most recent being an October performance at a quirky, but pretty awful little venue that sort of reminded me of a shittier, dorkier version of The Church (RIP). That particular night, the specific date of which is lost in the ether of my hungover mind, marks not only the first time I saw Mr. Elvrum live or the first time I spoke at him (it's probably the 45 hundredth time someone has yelled "What does Mount Eerie mean?!" in between songs). But also the first time I went to a show or pretty much anywhere except work by myself in Portland. Or maybe my brain just wheedles away until it finds something to commemorate listening to Mount Eerie. The music certainly lends itself to nostalgia well enough. How lame. I bet you The Microphones and Mount Eerie are probably the most blogged about bands in the history of bands that are blogged about. But I guess there's nothing wrong with being just another jilted scrawny white dweeb who loves music for jilted scrawny white dweebs. Or maybe there is. I don't care. I just like listening to it in between alienating every half-way attractive person in Portland.

P.S. This whole drag and drop photo thing is awful and I hate it.