“I am a breathing time machine…”

I just discovered (and simultaneously fell in love with) The Avett Brothers. They performed in a podcast of NPR’s “All Songs Considered.” I don’t even know how to describe the music. A little rock. A little bluegrass. Entirely wonderful. Even though I spent an afternoon watching some of their performances on Youtube, I still can’t tell the brothers apart, and some of their facial hair styles confuse me. But the music is amazing.

Love the tender lyrics and beautiful detail shots (the piano, the guitar and the Avett Brothers’ eyes) in the “Murder in the City” video:

Other Avett Brothers songs I’m obsessed with:
“Laundry Room” — How can the rock out that goes from 4:45 to the end not make you happy? So. Freakin. Badass. And it’s pretty cute how they dance and jump around while they’re playing.
“Bella Donna” — Makes me want to learn (even more) to play the guitar.

They’re playing in New York in October. I think I have to go.

• • •

One of my dream jobs is to select the music for a film or TV show. The task almost seems impossible — to find the perfect snippet of a song for a specific scene so that it seems like they were made for each other. “Grey’s Anatomy” always does a good job, and after watching season 3 of “Weeds,” I’m noticing some stellar pairings as well.

Xavier Rudd’s song “Messages” was in a “Weeds” episode and the catchy refrain lured me in. His voice sounded familiar, but I’d never actually heard any of his songs before. Other interesting asides: Rudd is an Aussie, plays the didgeridoo and never wears shoes (as you may notice in the video).

I’ve been a fan of State Radio for a few years and have even seen them in concert in New York. But this song slipped by me until I heard it in “Weeds.”

Ice, Advil and elevation

My Saturday has consisted of staying in bed watching season 3 of “Weeds” (an unexpected gift from my parents) while propping my right ankle up on pillows. I’m not quite sure what I did (my three-tier theory also has a three-tier diagnosis: I rolled my ankle while wearing heels for the second time this year. Or I rolled my ankle running on a softer but unlevel surface. Or I just ran too much in a short time span. Therefore, my ankle is sprained, strained or fractured.)

Thankfully, a visit to my doctor on Friday (which turned into a trip to NYU’s Radiology Department for some x-rays) ruled out a stress fracture (the thought of this kept me from sleeping well Thursday night). In an unrelated observation, I passed the Medical Examiner’s Office on my way to the Med Center. The air around it smelled really funny. One of the SARS/swine flu-preventing face masks would’ve been helpful.

Complying with doctor’s orders, I’ve been icing and elevating my foot most of the day and relying on TV on DVD to keep me entertained. One of the characters in “Weeds” said this quote and it has had me giggling ever since: “Thug means never having to say you’re sorry.” (obviously I can’t be a thug if I giggle at the mere mention of being one).

I’m not sure how long I’ll have to keep the icing up, but one day in I’m already bored.