Bud Melvin

Bud Melvin's name conjures images of an overweight elderly man who wears bolo ties and drives an older model Buick. Bud Melvin is actually a Chicago / Alberquerque singer-songwriter and artist named John Poston.

Male singer-songwriters seem to be a dangerous sort: one can almost never know what they are going to encounter. The spectrum of such artists can range from justified reverence (Dylan, Bragg, Young, Drake, Smith, Waits) to legacy founding modern darlings (David Pajo aka Papa M, Johnston, Jeff Tweedy), once prostigeous icons until mid-80s / early 90s f-ups (springsteen) to ill-intented insincere opportunists (Bright Eyes) to that guy playing acoustic Nirvana who we saw at the bar last night. It's easily decipherable: on end of the spectrum furthers a craft, the other is working for dollars, pitchfork write-ups, and anonymous sex.

The main problem with singer-songwriters who are great and deserve praise and recognition are most foremost, the imitators. How many transparent songs must we be subjected to? How many 'next Bob Dylans or next Nick Drakes' will be marketed to us and our fellow citizens? Are by association, the next generational answers to the living classics going to corrode those who they ripped off by diluting the pool with people who already sing a little bit like Dylan or a lot like Leonard Cohen?

A solution to enjoying singer-songwriters has baffled me. Fresh air in the genre is as tough to come by just as it is in country (real country), which is suffering a similar plight.

Bud Melvin offers something different. He's not out to promote himself. He is selling his music, but he's not going to seek you out on myspace and advertise himself in your comments section. His site, constructed of rudimentary html, offers no link to an online Spin interview. A brief browse through his site reveals a healthy distaste for things capitalistic.

His music is emulating the standards of finely woven pop we're programmed to enjoy but the indiosyncracies keep us about an arm's length away, not to keep you away so much as to give you the opportunity to get closer if you want to. The instrumentation is comprised of layers of banjo, acoustic guitar, and most interestingly, a hacked gameboy. Other traditional and non-traditional elements surface including lap / pedal steel guitars and what sounds a lot like beatboxing. It is interesting to hear how close this motley assortment of instruments and their unusual juxtaposition within his songs risks bringing him close to novelty, but keeps him in a place of shear sincerity. His vocal stylings shift from one song to the next: in "Goodbye Pirahana", his doubled vocals sound reminscient of how I imagined a friendly monster might sound when I was a child. In "Hi Goldfish", his voice is quiet and shy. Though in "Moonglow" he crowns so Vaudeville-ingly-esque, before a steel guitar riff seals the MP3 file Bud has posted.

His music is certainly a strange animal. Though, it's a sincere, well-developed animal, and you can cook while listening to it. Its such a shame stuff like this doesn't surface more often.

Mp3s
Goodbye, Piranha
Hi, Goldfish
Moonglow (first 1/2)

He'll kick you apart / he'll kick you apart.

aww yeah, you went for the forty? I put one of those away in college.

Good morning. I just woke up. There's still eye crust on muh eyes. Last night I made it until bar close: 3 PBRs and an appetizer plate for this guy, so it wasn't a very indulgent night of drinking.

Last few days have been a hoot. I had a filling get knocked out of one of my mollars. I tried to sleep despite the searing pain, which didn't work. Desperate for sleep I tried to take every painkiller in the house which was nyquil and advil, but they didn't really make much of a difference. I went to work for a couple hours before the dentist opened.

After I got a new filling and slept for a good six hours, I went to Tuesday's Twins vs Dodgers game. Not a terrible game, but the crowd got totes unruly and was not very welcoming to the low-ranked Dodgers. Across the aisle, two guys with necks thicker than basketballs got into a fist fight. Though the real clincher came when I tried to leave the metrodome and my kryptonite combination lock was broken, whilst still locking my bike to the pole I shackled to. I called MPLS PD's bike recovery squad, and they said that they had dispatched a car to come, cut my lock with a blowtorch, and then confiscate my bike for 60 days since it was unregistered and I had no proof of ownership.

Panicked, I set the combination on my lock and put all my energy into trying to tear it off. After about 9 tries of giving it all my strength, the lock popped off, thus saving my bike.

Only love can break your heart.

1. Fashion tips for the week of 6/26/06: white turtleneck, sportcoat w/ far too many cuff buttons, and helicopter related paranoia. See below. Courtesy WFMU's Beware of the Blog.



2. Nothing like the monetary bends to give you that bi-weekly haunting right on the dot. I'm kind of feeling frustrated with the fruits of labor: working a lot and not having much money after buying film and photopaper. Though, I've got beer and Minutemen albums, so all is well the ends well. Or what-ever.

Yesterday, after my typical 800 am - 330 pm server shift, I went and served ice cream at the new Guthrie, as seen below.



I was selling only three slightly non-traditional flavors of ice cream to the masses. Oreo, personal favorite, as well as peppermint bon-bon and vanilla. Still had a million requests for chocolate and strawberry even after many explanations that we only had three flavors, none of which were strawberry or chocolate. I loved how people got in the mindset that I personally conjured the spirit of Francisco Franco to smote their expectations with three totalitarian ice cream flavors of Oreo, P-Mint Bon-Bon, and Vanilla.

Though, I incidentally befriended some cool people. I met the former bassist from Low and we talked about music for a while. I still think Alan Sparhawk's last name is totally made up.

I also ran into one of my professors. I saw him eating from a distance, and was tempted to yell a heckle akin to 'large format cameras suck' or perhaps 'photography is for losers, business management degrees are better." Neglecting my duties, I instead spoke with him for a while on the subject "how when you do art and you love art, but you can't make art because the ideas stopped coming to you". His advice was to take a few days off work and shoot everything that could possibly be a composition until my conscious got the better of me for neglecting work and my personal life. Which I'd like to do, but leads back to where I was about not getting paid. So I'm giving up on worrying about money. I should have my new camera by Friday or Saturday, and then a few days straight of days with nothing going on but photos.

3. Power animal for the week of 6/25/06 - 7/01/06: adorable Kitten.


4. Saw Down By Law last night. Splendid: Waits, Benigni, et al. "I scream-a, you scream-a, we all scream-a ice cream-a!"

Everythings Gone Green

It is important that when all four of your roommates leave your house, you play some records kind of loud. This morning I have spun my copy of New Order's "Everythings Gone Green", recently acquired from Olde Ebay for only ₤1.99 including shipping. I love this band. The first two albums and the early singles are genius and overlooked.

Over fourth of July I had intended to be in Chicago, but I've commited to being here to feed Lydia, the cat who lives in our house, so I'll be in Minneapolis. However, I was thinking about having a movie party or something, since we have a cavernous living room, and I have access to a digital projector. "The Warriors", I am thinking.

I love sharks! Yea, I love them!

&

Grackles of Austin TX

1.

Weird dreams are happening with startling frequency. Lately, I've been dreaming intermittently of Austin TX parking lots, filled with those great-tailed grackles they have. Making noise and what-not, with their displays of territorial dominance by bending their necks backwards.

My friend Colin and I used to duck out of work early from Kinkos to grab a burrito from time to time. We'd sit outside to eat and maybe have a smoke. Those grackles would be all around, and they'd offer themselves as the kind of comic relief we'd be due. We'd always talk of instigating battles between them and the sororiety girls of UT Austin.

The great-tailed grackle is my power animal for the week of 6/19/06, or until I can stop thinking of why I'm dreaming of them.

2. Tomorrow I will go to a meeting to make the most lucrative barter of services I could ever possibly imagine. I will trade photographs and some money for the services of a fashion designer. Ultimately, if all goes well, I will have the winter coat that will last me the next decade or so. Winters come and go, and with each, I seem to collect 2 or 3 coats, almost none of which I wear the following winter. Though, I have one that I purchased for $1.50 at Savers three years ago, which somehow has survived peril countless times. Nonetheless, I need a coat that will at least get me through my 20's.

It's a little early to be discussing winter coats, but I'm really intrigued by the idea of making my own clothing. Should prolly get some screening supplies sometime soon too. Should make / recycle some t-shirts.

3. This kid is the coolest.