Really beautiful. I love the part where the people suddenly spill into the street and onto the opposite side, before the cars surge through the intersection.

Why, you might ask, would this new video be any different?

The catch: the software that pays out those tiny sums doesn’t pay if a video is embedded. This means our label doesn’t get their hard-won share of the pie if our video is played on your blog, so (surprise, surprise) they won’t let us be on your blog. And, voilá: four years after we posted our first homemade videos to YouTube and they spread across the globe faster than swine flu, making our bassist’s glasses recognizable to 70-year-olds in Wichita and 5-year-olds in Seoul and eventually turning a tidy little profit for EMI, we’re – unbelievably – stuck in the position of arguing with our own label about the merits of having our videos be easily shared. It’s like the world has gone backwards.

Pretty much describes what’s wrong with the music industry these days.

So instead, let me invite you to enjoy this great little video of OK Go practicing “This Too Shall Pass” with a choir for a performance on the Tonight Show.

You can download the song for free on Blondie’s site.

Jawbox, one of my all-time favorites, played together for the first time in 12 years on Jimmy Fallon last Tuesday. Alas, it was only a one-time thing, to plug the re-issue of For Your Own Special Sweetheart, remastered by Bob Weston and released in a collaboration between indie record labels Desoto and Dischord.

They did “Savory” for TV, and 2 more, “FF=66″ and “68,” that you can watch online.

(thx, rae)

Birthdays, puppy dogs, breakfast in bed…
Nothing could be better than Radiohead

Rhyming book of ABCs from Paste Magazine with great illustrations.

(via coudal)

There is also a ‘making of‘ video with commentary from the band.

(via kottke)

I loved this bit from the Pitchfork review:

“Giving Away the Bride” is one of the most radical deconstructions of normal rock production in the band’s catalog, eschewing even their normal roughly recorded acoustic guitars for a spaced-out beat and a monster of a distorted electronic bass figure, over which Rutili floats dreamily, intoning like a blues singer from the 1930s who got lost and tripped into the 21st century. The otherworldliness is so well-developed that it’s genuinely startling when the piano drops almost four minutes in or the live drums take up the rhythm a minute after that. If the band had hits, this would be among the greatest.

As Harry at Owl and Bear notes, no Califone release has received a score below 8 at Pitchfork. That has to be some kind of record.

Gary Giddins, the veteran critic and author of “Jazz,” agrees. “This ranks on the top shelf of her live recordings,” he said. “It’s about as good as it gets.”

Why these tapes stayed locked in the vault for nearly half a century — and what it took to set them free — is a tale of a producer’s neglect, a jazz sleuth’s obsession and a string of happy coincidences.