I would submit the soundtrack to Tombstone, which I listen to and enjoy, but I suspect that "popular" does not apply, except among early/mid-90's college graduates. What a horrible sentence. Anyway, look:
I Shot a Man in Reno: A History of Death by Murder, Suicide, Fire, Flood, Drugs, Disease, and General Misadventure, As Related in Popular Song. I especially appreciate the "general misadventure" category.
She is starting a blog.
Listening to the sublime Somethin' Else album while I try and dig out of paperwork. You can hear some of that on YouTube with amateur fan videos attached, but to see the man himself, here's (fittingly) "Work Song".
Via everywhere, the world's worst album covers. Here's my pick. Who would you buy this for? Who would you leave this to in your will after you buy it, put it on the record player, and hang yourself? (Nobody, because you'd be dead. Leave me alone, it's late.) The contenders here.
Funny story: I was at work tonight, talking for a few minutes on the phone with my wife. She asked me if I'd listened to Selected Shorts tonight. No, says I, why? She told me that she put it on to listen to while settling the littlest child into bed, thinking the description of the show sounded nice, with music provided by "some quartet" - but apparently, the music "made (her) ears bleed," was horrible, awful, no-good "sort of Chinese orchestral jazz noise, or something" - and the radio was louder than she'd anticipated, the baby wasn't going to sleep, she couldn't reach the radio to turn it off, and - the worst - "the music made me actually want to listen to the theme music for Maine Things Considered instead." Which, let me tell you, is pret-ty godawful. We had a good laugh.
I just got home a few minutes ago and figured I'd take a quick (ha!) look at Google Reader, and hey, there's tonight's episode of Selected Shorts, all lined up. I open it to see if it says anything about the Earbleed Quartet - and the featured story is by Condalmo friend J. Robert Lennon, he of Ward Six and also Books That Have Been Published On Paper And Read! I'll have to ask her in the morning if she listened to the story. I gleefully anticipate a string of venomous invective toward the Quartet, followed by a no, after which I reveal my tenuous yet genuine connection to the author, to be met with likely-deserved skepticism/disinterest!
If, like me, you cannot stomach the glossy "today's country" of CMT, it's possible that you are unaware of this show (airing tomorrow on the television; airing here, tonight: thanks, internets!) - Robert Plant and Alison Krauss, performing live. The interface is terrible, and there doesn't seem to be any way to embed it, but you are largely spared the ten-gallon redneck "patriotism" that you'd have to swallow while watching on the network.
Excuse me for a moment, small sidetrack here.
How great is that?
People. I can't do this all on my own. Some people have their Doctor Who, some people their Battlestar Gallactica. Me, I like it where there's always music in the air, and the birds sing a pretty song.
Observations:
Continue reading "Nobody told me this was happening tomorrow. Why has nobody told me?" »
I'd like to be sympathetic, but if everyone wasn't pissing all over themselves to get a review of In Rainbows to press in a hurry, you wouldn't be getting dreck like this, the lead on Rolling Stone's "review":
These wily boys may have a secret album-title exchange program with Kelly Clarkson, but everything else about In Rainbows is typically hard-rocking Radiohead. Like every other Radiohead album except Kid A — still their most famous album, but they only made it once — In Rainbows has uptempo guitar songs and moody acoustic ballads, full of headphone-tweaking sound effects.
What reader is this nonsense aimed at, exactly? Was it so important to have RS weigh in so soon (quick! before an online upstart trumps us! we're Rolling Stone, damn it) that this was given the go ahead?
Here's your link, but allow me to sum up: "It's the best ever, name drop, name drop, how much the reviewer paid, name drop, sweeping generalization, name drop, it's the best ever!!!"
This sort of bending to "the way things are now" (get the review out there fast, keep it brief for the online/short attention span crowd, keep it bland and by-the-numbers) instead of giving the album a considered review benefits nobody.
Let's all hold hands and listen:
What I'm most excited about though is fan bases discovering an album all together at the same time again. That strengthens music fanatic communuties immensely. Whether you consider this a collective conscious phenomenon or good old gang mentality nothing beats experiencing a musical event with a shitload of like minded people.In recent years it has become the norm that an album gets discovered by fans in the following order: 1) The press are issued their copies of the album. They begin to form opinions but can't talk about them online yet. One of them, however, is bold enough to leak it online. "Fuck it," he or she says to themselves, "I don't care if I get fired. I'm going to be a hero on Oink." This leads to 2) The computer savy early-leak-listener-club all breaking their wrists to either dismiss or praise the album first on their message board of choice. 3) The die-hard-fans who swear off early leak listening finally hear it the day it comes out in stores. A new wave of discussion and evaluation rolls in. The reviews come out. 4) New fans or casual fans find the album eventually also and chime in as well. Now, that's dividing up a fan base's initial new album experience into four segments over at least six months of time. Imagine combining all four segments within a the span of three weeks. Which scenario do you think is more likely to cause cultural explosions? Which scenario do you think will create a more lively, unified fan base? And what sounds like more fun to you?
When I heard the beginning, I nearly clicked away, thinking "not that overplayed thing again." (Someone once called that song "our generation's "With or Without You" - I can't even begin to respond to something like that. I used up all my (self-)righteous snark for the week on Oprah and Atwood.)
I'm glad I kept listening. This is joyous and troubling, in strange combinations.
On the connections between Joni Mitchell and W.G. Sebald (excerpt):
Mitchell and Sebald both project a persona that is perpetually on the road, although not exactly for the same reasons.When she is “porous with travel fever” the road for Joni Mitchell usually serves as the transition between past and future lovers. It provides the physical and temporal space for reflection and wild hopes.
A thunderhead of judgment was
Gathering in my gaze
And it made most people nervous
They just didn’t want to know
What I was seeing in the refuge of the roads
(from Refuge of the Roads)For Sebald, the road provides the transition between projects and a release from periods that sound vaguely like depression.
In October 1980 I travelled from England, where I had then been living for nearly twenty-five years in a country which was almost always under grey skies, to Vienna, hoping that a change of place would help me get over a particularly difficult period in my life. [All’estero, Vertigo]
In August 1992, when the dog days were drawing to an end, I set off to walk the county of Suffolk, in the hope of dispelling the emptiness that takes hold of me whenever I have completed a long stint of work. [The Rings of Saturn]
The fine folks of Ruined Music would like you to participate in a contest. (I may or may not submit my horrid entry, though this linkage would probably disqualify me.) Write a haiku about a song that was ruined for you by a relationship gone south, or a job gone south, or a what have you gone you know where. Details here.
Stylus is going to break it down.
Continuum’s 33 1/3 series began publication in 2004 with the intention of analyzing specific albums in a small book format. A unique array of authors have contributed to the growing number of releases with varying levels of success. Over the course of the next few months Stylus writer Matt Kivel will break down the entire series, book-by-book, in order to inform our readers of the virtues and pitfalls of each 33 1/3 entry.
Here's a bit from the review of Harvest:
The search for a definitive Neil Young album is a perilous quest—no single record can accurately sum up his many personas and songwriting styles. Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, Tonight’s the Night, On the Beach, and After the Goldrush are the oft-cited critical darlings, but Harvest remains his best-known LP due to its overwhelming commercial success.
In Sam Inglis’ Harvest, the author approaches the album with honesty—shrewdly deconstructing its flaws and virtues without indulging in masturbatory analysis. He has written a simple book conceived in two parts: the first tells Harvest’s history and the events surrounding its production, while the second part breaks down the album in a song-by-song fashion. Inglis is intimately familiar with the music and he points out what makes it simultaneously great (Nashville production; excellent session musicians; songs 1, 2, 4, and 6) and detestable (absurd orchestrations; inconsistent track selection; songs 3, 5, and 7).
(via)
Here's a music post. Rustic Overtones were big in these parts, back in the day. Horns, ska, rock, funk, lots of good stuff from this band over the years. I have good memories of shows: backing Long Division with a show at UMF; at The Big Easy; a great show at The Tunnel, toward the end; and the final show. Not so final; they've reunited, put out a new album, touring, possibly more to come.
Track list for the new album:
1. The Calm
2. Rock Like War
3. Dear Mr. President
4. Troublesome
5. Hardest Way Possible
6. Black Leather Bag
7. Oxygen
8. Carsick
9. Carnival
10. Light At The End
Sam Pfeifle is, predictably, experiencing multiple seizures of joy. (Then again, few local acts fail to have this effect on him.) I have yet to pick it up - blew my spending money on the new Spoon disc - but for readers outside of Maine, check these guys out. Buy it at Bull Moose, of course. Their webpage is long gone, but they've got a MySpace page.
All the elements in place for me to mention it. Murakami on jazz and the roots of his writing. Excerpt:
When I turned 29, all of a sudden out of nowhere I got this feeling that I wanted to write a novel — that I could do it. I couldn’t write anything that measured up to Dostoyevsky or Balzac, of course, but I told myself it didn’t matter. I didn’t have to become a literary giant. Still, I had no idea how to go about writing a novel or what to write about. I had absolutely no experience, after all, and no ready-made style at my disposal. I didn’t know anyone who could teach me how to do it, or even friends I could talk with about literature. My only thought at that point was how wonderful it would be if I could write like playing an instrument.
I had practiced the piano as a kid, and I could read enough music to pick out a simple melody, but I didn’t have the kind of technique it takes to become a professional musician. Inside my head, though, I did often feel as though something like my own music was swirling around in a rich, strong surge. I wondered if it might be possible for me to transfer that music into writing. That was how my style got started.
While not the irresistable extended mix, this still packs in plenty of good summer vibe. On my computer, the audio doesn't quite sync up with the video, but throw me a bone here, labor could happen any time now really it could
In his novel Ignorance, Milan Kundera writes, “If in the past people would listen to music out of love for music, nowadays it roars everywhere and all the time ‘regardless whether we want to hear it.’” Kundera quotes the German composer Schoenberg here, who states that “Radio is an enemy, a ruthless enemy marching irresistibly forward, and any resistance is hopeless.” Schoenberg is resigned to the fact that radio forces music down our throats irrespective of whether we have the ability to digest it, understand it.
There is no need to elaborate on the musical garbage that reaches our ears in elevators, cafes, dentists’ chairs, and so on. When music is fed to us, it tastes like hospital food, and all of us have our sick bowls nearby in case we need to retch. But in spite of all this, there is something to be said about that chance encounter, that moment when one is not looking for music, when one is not looking for anything at all.
(via, now with a link to go right to the playlist at iTunes.)
The 33 1/3 series of books is turning to U2's last great album for an upcoming title. Achtung Baby. There's an excerpt at their blog. I played that tape into dust, so I'm looking forward to this one. Excerpt of excerpt:
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, something bad went down—and it took everything and everyone down with it. Even the most well-adjusted person, possessed of a sunny disposition and positively brimming with “high self-esteem,” recognizes that the world is often a very dark and dangerous place and that people, though capable of astonishing kindness and goodness, frequently commit acts of unspeakable evil. With us and with the world things are just not right. “Life,” said the Buddha “is suffering.” “Whatever we are,” said Augustine, “we are not what we ought to be.” Fulton Sheen describes man as a “seat of conflict,” and in his classic book Peace of Soul offers an account of the origins of that conflict through a musical analogy:
Picture an orchestra on a stage with a celebrated conductor directing the beautiful symphony he himself composed. Each member of the orchestra is free to follow the conductor and thus produce harmony. But each member is also free to disobey the conductor. Suppose one of the musicians deliberately plays a false note and then induces a violinist alongside of him to do the same. Having heard the discord, the conductor can do one of two things. He could either strike his baton and order the measure replayed, or he could ignore the discord. It would make no difference which he did, for that discord has already gone out into space…on and on it goes, affecting even the infinitesimally small radiations of the universe. As a stone dropped in a pond causes a ripple which affects the most distant shore, so this discord affects even the stars. As long as time endures, somewhere in God’s Universe there is a disharmony, introduced by the free will of humanity.
The analogy is, of course, made to the story known as the Fall of Man. As told in the book of Genesis, God created the first man and woman in his own image and placed them in a wondrous and wonderful garden filled with beauty and delight. The garden was to be governed by love, and God spelled out exactly what that meant so that the man and woman could live in harmony with God, with each other, and with everything else God created. God also gave them freedom—free will—so that they, out of love, might make beautiful creations of their own. Being free, the man and woman could decide whether or not to obey God’s instructions, but that was never an issue—until the day the devil slipped in. Convincing the man and the woman that God was playing them both—and withholding the best of everything for himself—the devil suggested they take matters into their own hands. Exercising their God-given freedom to disobey God, first the woman and then the man overreached their grasp and overstepped their boundaries by stealing fruit from the one tree God had reserved for himself, setting off an ecological catastrophe of eternal proportions. Having polluted the garden with the taint of their selfishness, Adam and Eve earned for themselves—and for us, their spiritual children—a one-way ticket out of Eden. The cost of re-entry being more than they or we could ever afford, we remain in exile to this day, still touched and enchanted by the scents and echoes occasionally wafting from God’s garden but still dancing in the dung to the devil’s discordant tune.
Each song on Achtung Baby provides a variation on that tune. Taken collectively they offer an insightful meditation on the Fall and the consequences of our “fallen-ness.” It is all there: our infinite potential for dreaming, discovering, and building, and the trouble we cause by confusing our liberty with license; our wanderings through streets both named and unnamed in search of peace or escape, enlightenment or forgetfulness, love or domination; the longing in our hearts for unity between and among God and man, man and woman, brother and sister, parent and child, and the restlessness, pride, larceny, and fear in our heads that disturbs even the happiest of homes; our reveling in the fact that we truly are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” and the sad acceptance of our brokenness; the excellence of fidelity, and the appeal of seduction; the glamour of evil, and the disaster of sin; the paradox of being rooted in time but destined for eternity; the God-shaped hole at the center of our being, and our vain attempts to fill it with something, everything, anything other than God.
I can't imagine a less inspiring, more insipid group of finalists. Smash Mouth?
"Suddenly I See" by KT Tunstall
"I'm a Believer" by Smash Mouth
"Get Ready" by the Temptations
"Rock This Country!" by Shania Twain
"Beautiful Day" by U2
"Are You Gonna Go My Way" by Lenny Kravitz
"Ain't No Stoppin' Us Now" by McFadden & Whitehead
"Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" by the Police
"You and I" by Celine Dion
"The Best" by Tina Turner
A little something for everyone in there, if everyone is limited to your still-single, please let me be hip 43-year-old aunt. And Smash Mouth's three fans. (The dead "Monkee" is spinning in his grave.) (What?)
I go three days, hair sprouts from under my collar and I snarl. This poor woman, in the name of writing:
So, if there are any remaining readers of Book World still out there after the lack of posts recently, you may be wondering how my week of reading deprivation was.
Bloody awful is how it was. A truly vile week in which we had exams (yes, the whole family participates, with revision anyway), builders randomly plastering ceilings in rooms which I had foolishly believed to be on the verge of being habitable again and creating endless mess in the process, hot weather taunting us with the fact that the garden resembles a bombsite on the previous location of a builders yard, then rain taunting us with the fact that we spent the hot weather in the office and are now spending the long weekend staring out at the rain with the heating back on. And of course my sole consolation of being able to escape it all with a good book was denied me.
I have not found any inner enlightenment. On the contrary, I have found myself with useless corners of time too small and awkward to fill with anything practical. Instead of spending them pleasurably with a few pages of a thought-provoking book, I have found myself staring aimlessly out of car/train/kitchen windows brooding on the week's annoyances. Thus all the petty grievances which should have slipped away were simply magnified and I have been in a vile temper. I declare reading deprivation an utter failure.
I declare! You know, it does make sense, in a way - I often think that if I cut out my Google Reader I.V., put a vacation notice on my e-mail, stopped reading, stopped listening to music, all of that input, if I turned it all off, that maybe those ideas bubbling around in the back of my mind would surface. Plus, without reading/music/etc., I'd probably be homicidal, which would land me in prison w/plenty of time to write! The plan is foolproof; expect my novel in 2010.
Have a look at her other posts regarding The Artist's Way (apparently, a cottage industry of sorts). Interesting stuff.
*And yes, I'm listening, so expect continued oblique references. It kicks ass. I'm home alone with a pot of iced coffee in my boxers, so consider the obliqueness to continue into absolute obliquity.
Actually, I'm in my boxers, the coffee's in my cup. OK, that's all.
Condalmo fully appreciates (and not just because Mary hails from Waterville, not too far north of Portland) Ruined Music. New favorite website? Mmm, maybe. The skinny:
Most people have a song that’s been ruined.
A breakup turns “our song” into “the one song I can never hear again.” A crush goes downhill and takes your favorite record with it. A best friend vanishes, leaving you holding the mixtape. Talent show disasters, high school humiliations, family crises… somehow there’s always a song playing in the background.
Ruined Music collects essays about these songs we’ve lost. If music is the soundtrack to our lives, here are the scenes when it all went wrong.
Read. Write. Reclaim your record collection.
UPDATE:
Largehearted Boy's "Book Notes" has (as usual) got the goods. Excerpt from the intro:
People ask me lots about books and films - if I have seen such-and-such or read such-and-such and to what degree whatever-it-is has influenced The Raw Shark Texts. People rarely ask me about music though, which is strange because there’s a lot of music in the book and a lot of music went into writing it. There are even a few musical puzzles - spotting a song title and a few seconds searching for song lyrics will give a reader a nice little Raw Shark Easter egg of one sort or another (but I don’t want to give those away here!). I thought about putting together a playlist made wholly of mash-ups or cover versions, which might have been clever and fun and could even have worked as a commentary on my ideas and aims in a roundabout sort of way. Maybe a bit too clever though, and not very honest. Instead, I’ve decided on a playlist that tries to capture the tone and mood of The Raw Shark Texts. It’s a list of songs that helped me find and hold onto the mood of the story and songs which I’ve heard since which feel very close to what I was trying to get down on paper.
I keep going back and forth on whether or not to add this to my TBR pile. This piece gives it a nudge in the positive direction...
Found this gem when working on the Of Song and Water review. Armstrong was my first dip into jazz - working at the college radio station back in undergrad, WUMF, 100 watts. (Really.) A live CD - Satchmo at Symphony Hall. Played the hell out of it.
Fascinating look at the different versions of the song at LB's Book Notes for Stagger Lee by Shepherd Hendrix and Derek McCulloch - in researching the book, they sought out as many versions of the song as they could find, made an actual soundtrack. Excerpt:
Stagger Lee – Lloyd Price: Lloyd Price has done more than anyone to keep the legend of Stagger Lee alive in popular culture. In 1959, he pulled together elements from different versions, upped the tempo, and most crucially added the “Go Stagger Lee!” chorus that transformed what was often a mournful cautionary tale into a gleeful celebration of machismo and mayhem. In a shrewd marketing move for the time, Price also added a chorus of white backup singers to – what? Well, to remove a little soul from it, I suppose, and make the song more palatable as a crossover hit…exactly the opposite of what legions of blue-eyed soulsters would later do by backing themselves with gospel singers. (Amusingly, the backup vocals on Stagger Lee were by a group named The Ray Charles Singers – no relation.) Whatever Price’s reasons, one can’t argue with his success – the song sold more than a million copies and went to #1 on both the rock ‘n’ roll and R&B charts. For generations, Price’s was the best-known version of the song and arguably remains so today. “The night was clear/The moon was yellow/And the leaves came tumbling down…”
Some fans burning, indeed. This Herald article points out the trend of re-releasing CD's with "bonus material" - not many years later, as with the remastering/re-release of Miles Davis' "Kind of Blue" (for example), but months later.
Bruce Springsteen’s “We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions” came out in April as a DualDisc (one side a CD, the other a DVD). In October it appeared again in a new “American Land Edition,” that included five additional songs on a CD, and four additional performances on a separate DVD.
Or perhaps you bought Neil Diamond’s “12 Songs” last year. A “Limited Edition” version released this month throws in a second CD of alternate takes and demos for virtually the same price you originally paid. Is this any way to treat a dedicated fan?
“Labels traditionally repackage albums to capitalize on the holiday shopping season or to goose sales of initially underperforming product,” said Doug Brod, executive editor of Spin magazine. “It’s almost as if die-hards are being penalized for buying a CD fresh out of the box.”
This holiday season, Neil Young fans have felt that sting, too. His May release, “Living With War,” reappeared last week in a more costly, limited-edition version titled “Living With War - Raw.” Along with a DVD, fans get stripped-down versions of the first CD, with louder guitars and without the 100-person choir heard on the original CD. Young says it’s the better of the two.
I'm a die-hard Neil Young fan, and I was excited about buying "Living with War" - when he rocks, he holds nothing back, and the idea that he whipped this album up in a frenzy of anger over the Bush administration's lies was tantalizing. Except that the album is kind of a dud, an "Are You Passionate" with a little more noise and not a lot of Rockin' in the free world. If you know what I mean.
So now we get the better one, months later. Are we supposed to think that Neil wasn't allowed to release this this first time around? He can do whatever he wants. (Greendale.) It's sad to see him getting roped into this sort of last-throes effort on the part of the music industry to stay relevant - an incredibly unsuccessful, misguided effort.
I don't know what this means, exactly, but I'm enjoying the heck out of both of these, so this little coincidence makes my season bright. (Please also note track seven, "And It Rained All Night.")
Largehearted Boy's Book Notes section is great stuff. I should have mentioned this sooner, but along with the Laird Hunt conversation and one with Lynne Tillman (author of American Genius: A Comedy), among others, there's one from Oct. 12 with Brian Evenson re: The Open Curtain and the playlist for that book.
In addition, I'll have some notes from a reading that Mr. Evenson will be doing nearby on Dec. 7, and hopefully before that will wrap up an interview (via e-mail) with him and get it posted here. And there's that review on the way, too...
My first reaction to Bud's piece was the usual Dylan defense indignation. "Blood in my Eyes" have bad lyrics? That's an album of covers. Jack Johnson a zero on the interesting scale? Jack Johnson-related indignation! (But then I realized that no, in fact, his songs aren't really that interesting. They're kind of bland. And yet I own all of his albums, and enjoy them all a lot, to varying degrees. (I kind of think the first release is the worst.))
But - back to Dylan - why compare them? For God's sake, it's Dylan. Apples and oranges. Even when he sucks, he's done enough in, and for, music that he gets his own category. And he's making the music that someone his age should be making - it rocks, it croons, it kicks back, all in a dignified way that doesn't make you think of Mick Jagger or Steven Tyler trying (in vain) to keep the old fire burning. You reach an age, you need a different kind of fire. Bud sez:
As for Dylan, it seems that it's difficult to separate the mythical man from his music. Like when they hailed his singing as being "anti-stylish," fans explain away his more questionable lyrics as ironic or, 'oh, he was just being wry, don't you get it?"
OK, but who cares about what people say? Dylan has been saying for years that he's not interested in comparisons to his back catalog, his former selves, or music in general. He's just making music. He's not interested in being the spokesman for this or that - he's just singing. (Which apparently does not include Victoria's Secret, but that's another matter.) So his "fans" want to analyze everything, pick it apart, figure out which old poet or musician he's nabbing from this time - who cares? Is the music good?
And this is where I find myself agreeing with Bud. I've been listening to the album a lot this week, and it's good - touching songs, get-you-dancing songs (my 3 year old has been shouting "Bob Billin!" and dancing to "Thunder on the Mountain" on repeat), political songs, I-know-I'm-getting-old-and-the-last-song-on-the-album-might-be-the-last-song songs. (Or song. Whatever.) But if you take away Dylan's voice, where do the songs stand? Too cool for school folks will make fun of his voice, but it's part of the appeal, and in this case a large part; the songs are well-crafted, his band is in fine form, but if it were anyone else, this album might not be selling big. It certainly wouldn't be number one. So for the critics who laud it as his third masterpiece in a row (and I would disagree; Love and Theft was kind of weak, no comparison at all to Time Out of Mind), it's time to notice that the voice so mocked is now the biggest part of the draw. I bet Dylan likes it that way.
Since there's a category for it, I might as well drop in the occasional music post. Friend K directed my ears to this site last night. As he introduced me, kicking and screaming, to some of the music that I've listened to the most over the years, his recommendations carry weight.
This one is the least like anything else he's ever recommended, and unlike nearly everything in my own music collection. (Neil Young is scowling, somewhere.) Under the Influence of Giants combine elements of disco, funk, ultra-mild 70's rock, disco, the Bee Gees, disco, Earth, Wind, & Fire, The Commodores, and... yes. Given that description, this music is the stuff that you either like immediately or immediately dismiss as another example of culture degradation, and on any given day I could have fallen on either side of that decision. He picked the right time to tell me about it, and I've had it on repeat all day. If this is what Pop music is, then perhaps ... well, nevermind, but this is worth a listen. He recommended two listens; only took one for me. Please try to look past the as-usual wildly obnoxious MySpace format and check it out.
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