Some Chicago friends are following through on a very worthwhile project that culminated with a CD release today. The disc, an EP from the group Grogshow, is one I haven't yet had the chance to hear, but based on previous work by the folks involved, I'm sure it's good.

Here, from an e-mail they sent out today about the project, is a better explanation than I could cobble together, taken from the liner notes to the CD:

"Marc Kisting was a dear friend we lost to a sudden illness in 1996 following a long and courageous battle with leukemia. We met him in 1983 at Wahlert High School in Dubuque, Iowa. Along with Ed Carew, we formed our first band, Bob White and the Quails.

While attending the University of Iowa, Marc formed The Hakkenkraks with Al Hennagir. After calling it quits in 1992, Marc continued to develop his unique style of guitar playing and poetic lyricism.

In 1994, he met drummer Jason Williams of Davenport, Iowa. After a handful of live shows, they recorded eight songs under the name Grogshow. Using only only one guitar, voice and drums, Marc told us he had found the sound he'd been looking for. The intricate yet deceivingly simple melodies and arrangements showcase Marc's emerging talent.

Marc touched everyone he met with his humor, openness, and ability to see the best in people. He was a beautiful person and an inspiration to us all. We miss him and all the music he never got a chance to write."

The disc is available online through Future Appletree Records (also a good spot to get some other good, catchy Iowa-based pop) and CD Baby. Proceeds go to the Leukemia Research Foundation.

UPDATE: Here's the Grogshow MySpace page, with streaming audio of four of the EPs eight tracks and a bit more information. Having acquired the disc and given it a listen, I can report that while a bit rough, the songs here show Kisting to be a budding talent who would have been right at home amid the Neutral Milk Hotels of the late-90s early-aughts indie world.

I made my first mix CD for my son, Edward, this weekend to act as the soundtrack for his first roadtrip (the two hours to my folks' house). I was happy with most of it, particularly with the quieter, more lullaby-like songs. There will be time to get him fired up and head-bobbing with poppier stuff. For now, soothing sounds that don't involve vocalizations from animated animals are a plus.

The entire exercise was harder than I thought it would be. I limited myself to what was in my iTunes library for the sake of expediency, and simply pulled songs into a playlist as I came across them. I didn't listen to anything ahead of time -- something that I will do next time out, as there were a few things that just didn't fit. As much as I love the Beach Boys, the Kinks and the Chills, those tracks were a bit jarring in this context. I gave a cursory thought to lyrics, though I would imagine that everything to him sounds like the adults in "Peanuts" at this point, and Paul Westerberg's admonition to "kiss his ass" in "Waitress in the Sky" probably won't leave any mental scars. I was happy to offer Ed's first exposure to a lot of personal favorites, including the Replacements, R.E.M., Nick Lowe, Guided by Voices, Neil Finn and Yo La Tengo. With any luck, he'll be content with things like that as he finds his own way into the music he likes. Better the Beatles than "Barney."

Here's the tracklist. You'll note it's in reverse alphabetical order by band name. Anyone know of a way to actually order the tracks the way you want in iTunes? I've had no luck beyond sorting various categories to find the most pleasing mix.

Yo La Tengo - Here Comes My Baby
Wilco - California Stars
Vulgar Boatmen - You Don't Love Me Yet
Robert Pollard - I'm a Strong Lion
The Replacements - Waitress in the Sky
R.E.M. - Swan Swan H
Iron & Wine - Such Great Heights (a Postal Service B-side, hence the order)
Pernice Brothers - Dimmest Star
Nick Lowe - What's Shaking on the Hill
Neil Finn - Two of Us (with his son, Liam, from I Am Sam)
Nada Surf - Blonde on Blonde
Kinks - Picture Book
Josh Ritter - You Don't Make It Easy
Fountains of Wayne - Valley Winter Song
Guided by Voices - Tropical Robots
Crowded House - Fall at Your Feet
The Church - Under the Milky Way (from the acoustic El Momento Descuidado)
The Chills - Heavenly Pop Hit
Bob Mould - Sunspots
Big Star - Thirteen
Beach Boys - Sloop John B
Arthur Russell - A Little Lost

Continuum released its list of the books it picked for the next round of its 33 1/3 series, and my proposal to write about the Jayhawks' Hollywood Town Hall didn't make the cut. No surprise, particularly given the bigger cult status (or just plain commercial success) of most of these picks. The list I received only had album titles, yet I only needed to look up a couple (Throbbing Gristle?) because the rest are easily identifiable. I could argue the worth of a couple of these (do people who would be interested in Celine Dion's Let's Talk About Love even read? If they do, Carl Wilson, who keeps the great blog Zoilus, is likely to blow their minds a bit), but by and large it's a list of books that I'd like to someday read. Some I even thought about pitching myself, such as Shoot Out the Lights and Double Nickels on the Dime.

I still think there's an interesting story to be told about Hollywood Town Hall, so maybe there's a lengthy magazine piece about it in my future. As for the series, I thank editor David Barker for the chance to submit a proposal. It couldn't have been easy to pare down the list.

The list:
Belle and Sebastian - If You're Feeling Sinister, Scott Plagenhoef
Steely Dan - Aja, Don Breithaupt
Richard and Linda Thompson - Shoot Out the Lights, Hayden Childs
Nine Inch Nails - Pretty Hate Machine, Daphne Carr
Guns 'n' Roses - Use Your Illusion, Eric Weisbard
Patti Smith - Horses, Phil Shaw
The Minutemen - Double Nickels on the Dime, Mike Fournier
Nick Drake - Pink Moon, Amanda Petrusich
A Tribe Called Quest - People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm, Shawn Taylor
U2 - Achtung Baby, Stephen Catanzarite
Throbbing Gristle - 20 Jazz Funk Greats, Drew Daniel
Kate Bush - The Dreaming, Ann Powers
PJ Harvey - Rid of Me, Kate Schatz
Brian Eno - Another Green World, Geeta Dayal
Stevie Wonder - Songs in the Key of Life, Zeth Lundy
Captain Beefheart - Trout Mask Replica, Kevin Courrier
Celine Dion - Let's Talk About Love, Carl Wilson
Lucinda Williams - Lucinda Williams, Anders Smith Lindall
Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs, LD Beghtol
Television - Marquee Moon, Peter Blauner
Tom Waits - Swordfishtrombones, David Smay

It's my 100th post here, but rather than pontificate on some endlessly fascinating topic, I'll instead offer a few quick notes about things that have been piling up in my RSS reader. Watch for no. 101, however, as it ought to be a treat for Guided by Voices fans.

Little Hits, a favorite TIRBD stop, was profiled recently in The Pitch. Site guru Jon Harrison talks about what moves him in a song: If I'm going to go to the trouble of putting this on the turntable just to hear one song, it better really snap my head back."

City Journal has a rather silly piece up criticizing Hollywood for giving Johnny Cash the biopic treatment without doing the same for Merle Haggard. The piece is right in stating that Hag's life is equally ripe fodder for a good movie, but goes off the rails when it dismisses Cash's music and in its explanation of why Haggard has been overlooked.

According to the article, it is Cash's leftwing politics that made him popular, dating his rise to the recording of the trifle "Man in Black." Haggard, who recorded the decidedly rightwing songs "Okie from Muskogee" and "Fightin' Side of Me," was passed over because this political orientation doesn't sit well with Hollywood. Hogwash. Hollywood is about making money, and if they thought a Haggard movie would sell tickets, they'd make it. Thing is, Cash always has been more popular across the board than Haggard. He got his start in rock, and maintained that cool throughout his career. The renaissance he enjoyed over the last decade of his life thanks to some stripped down, hip albums, far outshines any luster Haggard's career currently enjoys. That's not necessarily fair -- Haggard has recorded some rich, return-to-form discs in the past few years himself -- but it's the way it is.

Bill Maher will host a new online show on Amazon.com starting Jan. 24 (10 p.m. CST). "Amazon Fishbowl" will feature interviews with artists who just happen to have new things for sale on the site. He has been asked to steer clear of the political commentary that makes his HBO show "Real Time" such a spot-on treat. HBO not paying enough, Bill?

Finally, Largehearted Boy points to a couple of Robert Pollard interviews. My opus with Uncle Bob ought to be running on PopMatters shortly. When it does, I'll offer a few more tidbits here that didn't make it into that already sprawling piece.

It took me a long time to get into the music of Steve Wynn. I missed out on Dream Syndicate the first time around; the only one of the band's albums I owned contemporaneously was Out of the Grey, it's swan song. When Wynn made his solo debut, Kerosene Man, I was at the college paper and received a promo copy (on vinyl!). I gave it a listen, and while the single, "Caroline," was catchy, not much else stuck. So, not realizing I was basing my opinion on perhaps Wynn's two least-representative albums, I moved on.

Another decade, another paper, another promo, this time for his solo disc with the Miracle 3, Here Come the Miracles. It was a sprawling, two-disc set that blew the doors off and made me a believer. A subsequent live show sealed the deal. I went back and picked up most of his solo discs and the nicely timed reissue of Dream Syndicate's Days of Wine and Roses, and got caught up. The follow-up to Miracles, while less expansive, was no less stunning. Static Transmission was a great extension of the raw but groove-filled sound of its predecessor.

Now comes what Wynn calls the third in the Desert Trilogy, tick... tick... tick. Recorded, like the previous two, in Tucson, it feels of a piece with the other two while pushing everything a bit further out, brightening the corners a bit. The songs are shorter and more direct, for the most part, but lack none of the fire that made the previous two so compelling. Wynn still provides plenty of guitar-fueled freakout, but the songwriting is more concise, offering a nice counterpoint to Miracles and Static.

The new disc is officially released in the U.S. on Jan. 24, but has been available overseas and through Wynn's web site since October. There is a lot of information and music on Wynn's site, as well as a lot out around the web. A nice interview with Wynn can be found on Whisperin' and Hollerin, while the band's MySpace page offers streaming tracks, including the tick... tick... tick outtake "Welcome to the New Regime."

For those needing an extra push, Wynn is a favorite of top-notch crime fiction writer George Pelecanos. The two are friendly, and collaborated on the song "Cindy, It Was Always You" on the new disc. While the song lyrics are a bit wordy, forcing Wynn to shoehorn an extra beat or two into a few lines, it's a nice result from a partnership that ones hopes will continue.

I thought I had pretty well said all I care to about JT Leroy last week, but I've been slowly making my way through the last Oxford American music issue (yes, I'm months behind) and came across a Leroy "essay" about Loretta Lynn that reminded me there had been a dust-up about the accuracy of the piece last summer. That's funny now, of course, as it has been shown that there is nothing accurate or real about this made-up character or "his" work. Again, however, it shows how much people were willing to let slide in the desire to believe the person writing these things was who he said he was.

In this case, "Leroy" wrote about Loretta Lynn and how his mother, Sarah, liked to strip to certain of Lynn's songs. Discrepancies noted in a Houston Press article about the piece dealt with whether or not there were Publix stores in Nashville at the time Leroy claimed to have visited one. The writer got into a tiff with OA Editor Marc Smirnoff, and the blogosphere hosted a short debate about all of this. Funny that such a preposterous piece, labeled in the magazine as an essay, wasn't seen as wholesale fiction for reasons well beyond debate about the presence of a grocery store. The whole thing reads like the melodramatic fiction of a high school student. As I noted last week, the author's bio becomes such a big part of people's interpretation of a work, that "Leroy's" background seemed to help otherwise sane people view this as worthwhile reading.

Nosing around the 'net in search of Leroy info, I came across "his" web site, which includes a blog. I've no idea if it's legit (as legit as a blog written by someone claiming to be a fictitious character can be, of course), but I was struck by this passage: "Sometimes the media writes things to be manipulated and we don't even know we're being manipulated. The author can stay invisible and appear to be stating a fact when they're carefully and seamlessly orchestrating a desired response. Usually you can tell because it is an artfully hidden attack that we are just trained to accept. There are certain words people will use and it's a horrible form of manipulation because they don't have to take responsibility for it or own it."

That's in a post about media coverage of Sean Penn's efforts to help Hurricane Katrina victims last year, but it might as well be about the creation and maintenance of Leroy, particularly about the media's unwitting assistance in the endeavor. Seeing things like this, as well as that horrible and obviously fictitious "essay" in the Oxford American makes me wonder if all of this is less a desperate attempt by someone unmarketable to become so and more an elaborate prank to expose the media's quick desire to elevate the unworthy if they have the right backstory.

With a new baby in the house, I've been thinking about two things. First, I wonder when I'll ever get back to regular reading, music-listening and TV-viewing schedules (regular being a relative term, I know). Second, what should I be playing for Edward to educate him about good music?

On the first point, I'm sure that we'll start to strike some balance as his schedule normalizes and I get better at holding a book in one hand and a baby in the other. I've been chipping away here and there at a couple of things, but find myself better able to get through magazines at this point. TV will be interesting with the debut of 24 this weekend. An uninterrupted hour to watch a drama? We'll see.

My own music listening and the second rumination above about helping to shape Edward's tastes go hand in hand. Even before he arrived, most of my listening took place in the car, at night or on walks with the iPod or on weekend mornings with something quiet as background for newspaper reading. Currently, the car still offers my best venue for listening, and the iPod has helped to drown out background noises during daytime naps when helpful grandparents come by to hold the baby. As Edward becomes more aware of his surroundings, however, I want to pick out things to play for him that he'll like (or that at least won't alarm/annoy him). My vast holdings of power pop would seem to be a good place to start, and the many quiet jazz records I have would also seem fitting (finally, a reason for ECM discs beyond inducing sleep, and I say that with all respect).

I know there eventually will be a battle in our home as things like the Wiggles and Barney and who knows what else make their assaults on my child's ears (Raffi is banned). If I can instead steer Edward toward the Beatles or that great Spongebob Squarepants movie soundtrack or Dan Zanes' kids records, so much the better. So far, he has been limited to overhearing some Crowded House and Split Enz as I watched a video compilation while feeding him (parent, thy charge is multitasking!), and a quiet Brad Mehldau CD while his Mom and I chilled out one evening between feedings and diaper changes.

I plan to write a bit about this from time to time as Edward and I explore music together. Suggestions for good kid-friendly/adult-tolerable music appreciated.

The most interesting thing about the JT Leroy and James Frey unmaskings is that it offers a great example of the fact that people crave authenticity in their art. Anyone could write a novel about a lot lizard addict or a writer facing down drug addiction (I overgeneralize here, as I've read not a word by either "man"), so to set oneself apart, it is important to cloak the work in a veil of supposed truth. For the folks behind Leroy, it meant creating a character out of thin air; for Frey, it meant passing off a lively bit of autobiographical fiction as memoir. In both cases, perhaps the writing itself wasn't enough of a selling point. No surprise: A well-tuned sports car wouldn't sell as well if it were under the chassis of a K car (not to suggest that the work of either writer is any more powerful than a Honda, of course).

This notion of authenticity is why you don't see many punk rock musicians owning up to middle class roots, or rappers who will admit that maybe they actually didn't sling drugs on the corner. People crave something real. Stories about street hustlers, junkies and AIDS victims written by a young artist who claims to be all three are a visceral, voyeuristic rush. Those same stories coming from the pen of a 40ish housewife in a crappy rock band? No thanks, a bit too creepy.

Little in the world of art is presented without the trappings of what is known about the creator, be it truth or something else. Great hoaxes have been perpetrated because people want to believe fantastical things that have an air of mystery. It's why people still buy Klaatu records hoping that they really are lost works by the Beatles, and why Garth Brooks' attempt to go pop as "Chris Gaines" fizzled. While Brooks' was indeed the man behind that work, the fact that everyone cruising the aisles at Wal-Mart knew as much meant the mystery was gone. Left with the music and no story to make themselves feel like they were in on something, fans took a pass.

JT Leroy always seemed fake to me -- we Midwesterners get a bum rap from our jaded cousins on the coasts, but we can see through crap as well as anyone -- though I didn't imagine this depth of deception. I expected something more like Breece D'J Pancake, a kid of privilege who pretended to be of poor stock like the characters about which he wrote. People were so eager to believe, however, that even seeing a goofball in wig and sunglasses hanging out with Courtney Love wasn't a tipoff.

Odd segue here, but I've been thinking a bit about this as I work on a review of Robert Pollard's new disc, From a Compound Eye. I think it's a great album, among the two or three best he's done. How does my knowledge of his past work color that view, however? After breaking up Guided by Voices and deciding to truly jump into a solo career, Pollard clearly is reinventing himself a bit. What would I think about this disc if I was coming to his music for the first time, without hearing the music as a clear extension of what he had done on GBV's latter discs? I think I would like it even better, actually, because it would be a pretty stunning debut from an unknown. My enthusiasm in reality is tempered just a bit because I know that, as good as it is, it could be better if Pollard had taken the cream from the discs he released under a variety of names in the past couple of years and chucked a couple of clunkers from the final tracklist.

Are there discs out there by unknowns that I would like as well as this? Of course, but admittedly I don't give them a chance because it's easier to go with a known quantity than to explore the unknown. Also, some of that music might be made by people who don't have a complementary backstory or who frankly just don't look right. Much as a JT Leroy book might not go over well if the author was known to be a 40-year-old housewife, a great psych rock record might flop if it came from... well, a 40-year-old housewife. That might not be fair, but it's reality. For some that means working a little harder; for others, it means going to any lengths necessary to make it. Who's to say which is right?

Nothing like making something rare to make it desirable beyond all reason. The latest in the Robert Pollard/Guided by Voices Fading Captain Series came and went in 48 hours, selling out before most fans knew it was even available (including me). The album, As Forever by Acid Ranch, is a limited edition of 525 LPs. That's vinyl, kids.

Word went out on the fan listserv Postal Blowfish the first week of December, and copies already were selling on eBay for $152 a couple of weeks later. Yes, limited-edition GBV-related vinyl is an investment... anyone looking for a mint copy of that out-of-print Tropic of Nipples single, by the way?

The thing is, I know the music on this is quite likely horrible. The last Acid Ranch LP, Some of the Magic Syrup was Preserved, is almost entirely without appeal. That doesn't make me want this any less. Usually, it's all about the music. When you get a favorite band that puts out an endless stream of product, however, it slowly becomes all about possession. If the music is good, that's a bonus.

In this case, the possession is pretty cool, an LP of recently unearthed music from Pollard, his brother Jim and fellow GBV old-timer Mitch Mitchell, sleeved in an old LP jacket screen printed with a "new" cover. Dan Hill, Juice Newton and Dire Straits are thus far among those covered over. I'll only admire from afar, however, as $150 is much too rich for me. I may get suckered into the aural equivalent of Tom Sawyer's white picket fence, plucking my credit card from my wallet each time Pollard issues any little scrap of music and deems it "limited" just as surely as Sawyer's buddies would pick up a brush to partake in the fun of painting. This little whitewash job, however? I'm going to sit this one out.

An interesting discussion about the disconnect between the taste of the masses and that of critics is being had thanks to an insightful post at Coolfer. In it, Glenn takes issue with a critique published last week by Jon Pareles in the New York Times. In the Times piece, Pareles laments the fact that consumers chose comfort over ambition in making their pop music purchases. Glenn points out that Pareles falls into the common critical trap of reminiscing a bit too fondly about the past. Pareles mentions great, ambitious works that also were top sellers, but fails to note that the bulk of the music released in any of those years was probably terrible.

"...through the years, the most memorable blockbusters have aspired to something beyond popularity. They set out to inspire, to startle, to define an era or to defy it. For the likes of Nirvana, the Beatles, Pink Floyd, Madonna, Michael Jackson, Eminem, Alicia Keys, Metallica or Bruce Springsteen, catchiness has been a means rather than an end," Pareles writes.

True, but Glenn counters with this: "For every Nirvana there's a Bush, three Silverchairs and a dozen Candleboxes. For every Eminem there's a Kid N' Play, a Vanilla Ice and more than enough Black Eyed Peas."

Both make good points, yet miss the overall point: The year's most ambitious discs simply didn't sell as well as those of prior years, because they were made by cult artists, not superstars. They certainly were there (look up my Top 10 list or that of any other blogger for evidence). Pareles is right that in the past top discs aspired to be more than just disposable pop, but seems to miss the fact that the kinds of artists topping the charts these days (and being promoted by the industry) are more interested in sales than art. You can't compare Mariah Carey to U2 and be credible. No matter how good U2 is, if they hadn't risen to prominence at a time when the music industry deemed them worthy of promotion, they wouldn't be the kind of superstars who could sell the heck out of a marginal disc like How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb in 2004.

Glenn also is right to point out that those ambitious yet best-selling discs of yesterday were the exception, not the norm. That's always the case, and it's why top 10 lists from critics rarely have much overlap with lists of top-grossing CDs, films or books: "How easily we forget that popular music tends to be popular precisely because it doesn't take chances. It's not just music. Popular movies aren't very challenging or brave. Hit novels are no different. And ask any politician how to win an election and you're sure to get one answer: Stay as close to the center as possible."

Those breakouts -- Nevermind, Born in the USA, et al -- are quirks, and Pareles can't see that through his fogged-over rose colored glasses.

A quick post here to show some signs of life. The holiday break turned into a much longer layoff as we welcomed a new son to our family. As I balance work, (lack of sleep) and other pursuits, I'll resume posting again. In the meantime, a few links to things of note:

Sad news out of Richmond, Va., about the brutal murder of House of Freaks leader Bryan Harvey and his family. Oddly enough, I bought my first House of Freaks disc just a few months ago after reading something on the net about the lost gem that was Tantilla. It hasn't earned a lot of spins, but it's quality makes me wonder how I could have spent so much time with Guadalcanal Diary in the early 1990s while missing out on House of Freaks.

"Syriana," the last movie we saw in a theater before our new arrival, was an entertaining, complex political thriller that left me with more questions than answers. It's the type of film that will reward repeat viewings (which will be limited to DVD for me, it seems). In the meantime, Warner Brothers has made the entire script available for viewing online.

I'll be busy in January with PopMatters-related work. I'll interview former Belle and Sebastian member Isobel Campbell about her improbably good collaboration with Screaming Trees leader Mark Lanegan on a forthcoming disc, and hope to chat with Robert Pollard about his fantastic new solo disc, From a Compound Eye coming later this month on Merge. I'm trying to get my thoughts together for a review of the Nels Cline/Wally Shoup/Chris Corsano free jazz disc Immolation/Immersion. It's a wild disc centering on the wide-ranging 29-minute title track, and it's taking all I've got to find ways to describe it.