Okay, here’s an odd juxtaposition of some music that I’ve been listening to.  First of all, we have a couple songs from the Mr. T Experience, a band that I was introduced to as a teenager.  Recently, due to circumstances beyond my control, I’ve had to rebuild my music library. Through this process, I was able to download the entire Mr. T Experience discography.  In the course of listening to these songs that are new to my ears, I’ve come across two that I really like.

First we have Unpack Your Adjectives, which, in the true nature of the band is a catchy yet dorky song about grammar.

And what would MTX be if they didn’t sing hopeless and corny love songs? The legend is that at every gig, Dr. Frank, the lead singer, would introduce every song with the sentence, “This is a song about a girl.” In that vein, we have More Than Toast.

Now for the odd juxtaposition stuff: some old folk music. I was introduced to Doc Watson by someone I don’t remember, but again, due to these circumstances beyond my control, I downloaded more of his music and stumbled across The Storms Are On the Ocean. I’d heard variations of this song before, but this one struck me and I really like the harmony.

And finally, because I was so struck with the song above, I listened to more of the album, and heard this song. The flatpicking is so good (you should know that Doc Watson has been blind for almost his whole life) and the harmonies are so tight… This is what folk music should be like. Without further ado, here’s Ridin’ That Midnight Train.



Bad Experience

I just at a very typical and annoying experience with who I assume to be is a Viet Kieu (a Vietnamese person from overseas). I went to a cafe and just sat down and was taking out my computer and a man walked over from across the room and said rather loudly, “Excuse me, where are you from?” This was annoying simply due to the fact that I was just taking out and starting up my computer and didn’t want to be engaged in trivial conversation at the moment. “She wants to know,” the man continued, gesturing to a middle-aged woman sitting across the room.

“I’m from America,” I said curtly.

“Where do you live in America?” the man continued, not taking the hint.

“I live here,” I replied, again curtly.

“But where do you live in America,” the man continued, really not taking the hint.

“I live here,” I said again, this time louder.

The man then walked back to his table and announced loudly, this time in Vietnamese:

“He’s American, but he lives here.”

Such encounters with Viet Kieus, when they just want to show off to the entire establishment that they can speak English, really annoy me, probably more than little kids running up and screaming “HELLO!” It’s just an attempt by certain people to show that they’ve lived abroad and therefore (the usual assumption goes) they have more money and they’re better than “normal” Vietnamese people.

This is not to say that all Viet Kieus are like this, but it tends to be middle-aged Viet Kieus who feel like they have something to prove to others. In general, just very annoying.