Why I Oughtta

Last night I get home a little before five — the first time I've been home since early Saturday morning. I took a rejuvenating shower — the kind where you feel like a completely different person afterwards — and headed out to a delayed Mother's Day dinner with Mom and bro.

I pull out of my parking space and start driving through the parking lot when I see these two guys in the middle of the road. I am swearing at them quietly, urging them to get out of the road, when I see that one of them has a video camera and the other guy looks somewhat familiar. He waves to get my attention.

Apparently some creep in my neighborhood has been giving kids drugs in return for letting him take dirty pictures of them. And now, the public wants to know what I think about it. I'm shocked at first — just because my community seems kind of sleepy and family-oriented. There are tons of little kids, mostly from first generation families.

I've interviewed enough people to know what a reporter wants to hear, so I try to articulate myself in soundbites. The camera is “all up in my grill,” so to speak, and the reporter, a gel-y haired, questionably Latino, and decidedly homosexual (but he seems to butch it up for the camera) thirtysomething asks me just how shocked I am.

So shocked, I reply in scare quotes.

Later that night, I tape the news on the Fox affiliate. My segment conveniently airs during a commercial break on the Real World Road Rules Challenge: The Inferno. I'm fairly certain he'll use the first quote I gave him, which concisely outlined my surprise, but instead he uses something I say later about the fact that the guy's apartment is 300 feet from my bedroom and I think that is “astonishing.” After the segment airs, I question my use of the word “astonishing.” As if he is luring underage kids to his apartment and having doves magically fly out from his sleeves.

I get self conscious of how I look on camera. Initially, I think I look bloated — like the camera has added 4 weeks of nonstop Big Macs — but second and third viewings (yes, I rewatched it thrice, even freeze-framing it so I could pick out flaws) I don't look bloated but I look rubbery. Hard to describe, but I guess I have a more expressive face that I think. That, and I am squinting because the sun was directly in my eyes.

Up next: my weekend in NYC. I'll recount my activities over the weekend and contemplate the city itself. As well as my thoughts on whether I should move there or not.

Idlewild's new album is called “Warnings/Promises” and I purchased it at Tower on Friday evening for $25. It was spur-of-the-moment, but I figured I may as well get it now and save myself 4-5 months of anticipation before it comes out in the US.

The verdict:

Not their best album. In fact, when all is said and done I'd probably say that it is their third best (they have four). The only reason I like it so much now is because I haven't listened to it hundreds of times (like I have 100 Broken Windows and The Remote Parts).

Much of the album is surprisingly sedate and jangley. Lots of strumming acoustic guitars atop layers of clean and distorted electric guitars. A lot of commercial potential here, as most of the less rockin' tracks are very radio-friendly.

However, the straight-ahead rock songs are really kind of a mess: 2 in particular. The album's third track, “I Want a Warning,” is barely listenable because of the squalling guitar aimlessly screeching in the background. Roddy Woomble (love that name) has some nice vocal melodies, but it really can't compete with that headache-inducing screeching. There's another song that isn't quite as harsh as “Warning,” but it's similarly jarring and I'm not a fan.

There are some really good songs here, though. The best one so far is “Not Sometimes But Always” which has some syrupy strings.

The good news is that Woomble is stronger than ever as a singer and especially as a songwriter. His lyrics have always been a bit ambiguous, but now they're more personal and emotionally resonant. Plus, I love his voice — the way it lilts and falls.

Idlewild have always been dodging REM comparisons. I, personally, have never really seen it. However, some of these songs are very “Losing My Religion” and now I can see it.

The album's first single, “Love Steals Us From Loneliness,” is quintessential Idlewild. If there ever was a typical song by this band, that would be it. However, it's the only song that is like it on the album.

I wouldn't rush out and buy the import — I'd save that for fanatics. But it's a solid buy, especially for people who've never purchased an Idlewild album before.