Also, this video for “Everything Touches Everything,” directed by former Let’s French guitarist Max Sorensen, slipped through the cracks. Find it after the jump:

Given the brevity of this encounter, I can’t claim to know much about the guy. However, were I to set up a Fake Michael Bay–style Twitter account for him based on first impressions and trivial details–he had a jar of formaldehyde on his desk with a coiled rattlesnake inside—it would probably revolve around slurred words, fine dining, and pharmaceuticals.

In other worlds, it would be much like this actual Twitter account, which a friend passed along to me today. I guess this could be a hoax, but who else would brag about drinking a nice Côte de Beaune AND be Twitter friends with John Agnello? Seems pretty convincing.

Various 140 character slices of rock living after the jump:

-i can’t sleep its 7 am, took a sleeping pill and shot. probably a bad move

-thats Mel Brooks btw MEL FUCKING BROOKS

-i guess i need rest after carousing till 530 am! Partners lunch someplace fancy then dinner at my club

-geez woke up early, just ordered a poppyseed bagel w/ sturgeon, belly lox creamcheese and onion + fresh OJ and a valium to take the edge off

-how can you spend SO much money in SO short a time?? well good eats I suppose, but the drink$$ I GUESS THE WINE WAS FINE!!!

-after masala bloody’s off to PA’s for the lamb lotsa cotes de beaune

-Geez that was good bagel, Neue Gallery, leg o’ lamb lotsa old juice to drink at PA’s… prolly listen to some recent Hi-LIFE aquisitions

-just trying to figure out what makes everyonne OK

Hot Chip: “Take It In”
Devo might have had a few reflective moments in its time, but nerds don’t come much more tender than Hot Chip. The London-based electronic pop group’s new single, “Take It In,” could bring a tear to the tersest microserf’s eye. “Wheel of Fortune stops at 6 o’clock/So what am I to do until midnight?” sings co-front man Joe Goddard over a skittering beat. Yeah, we’ve all been there. But it’s the chorus—with its soaring New Order keyboards and talk of doves—that will bring tears down on the keyboard and have you Skype-ing the one you love.

Yellow Fever: “Hellfire”
Chief among the virtues of Austin, Texas: there’s good barbecue. But the rent isn’t too bad either. So, you’d think Yellow Fever could afford to buy a few more instruments—maybe a sampler or a keyboard. But if “Hellfire,” from the duo’s self-titled debut record, is any indication, they’re getting by just fine with drums and guitar. One part Swell Maps and two parts Quix-O-Tic, it’s a solid piece of post-rock minimalism.

Eels: “Little Bird”
Eels front man Mark Oliver Everett has gotten a lot of mileage out of being sad. He’s made seven sad full-length records and then, recently, authored an autobiography that details the specific reasons for his ever-enduring melancholy (to be fair, he has some pretty good reasons). And, he’s not done yet. A new Eels album, End Times looms just over the horizon and its new single, “Little Bird,” is duly bummin’. “Little bird hopping on my porch/I know it sounds kind of sad/But what’s it all for?” sings Smith. What does the little bird say? Nothing. He’s flown off in search of a birdbath filled with hemlock.

-I’m dropping pops off in g town & he says in his thick west Indian accent “I was shopping here when niggas were wearing polyester and shit”

-Need to punch you in the mouth with a Listerine boxing glove

-I got #attentiondeficit on Itunes, on the leak and I need to cop out the store to complete the trifecta

Outputmessage:

-The last few weeks have easily been the busiest of the year. Feels good to be in the final stages of the album releasing process though!

-Got word that a few of my recent tracks will be on the show Styl’d airing on @MTV in Nov. Stay tuned for more info!

Foul Swoops:

-after playing a lot of NBA Live 2001 over the last few days I’ve come to the conclusion that Foye is a young Alvin Williams.

-the verizon center is as empty as a foul swoops show.

Edie Sedgwick:

-Bulgarian guy on 4-pack/day cigarette habit: “We all have to die someday.”

-All the vegan vampires here in Macedonia hot to trot in re: tofu-flavored blood.

-Free barf bags on this tour through your aesthetic.

Tom Noble knew only two things about George Smallwood: He had an awesome record and an address.

Back in 2006, Noble, the owner of Lotus Land Records, a small San Francisco-based label that re-issues obscure disco and R&B tunes from the late ’70s, came across the D.C. singer’s first single, 1974’s “Touching Is My Thing.” He was intrigued enough to contact Smallwood. “I hand-wrote him a letter,” explains Noble. “I didn’t even know he was blind. Luckily, he has a lady friend who reads his mail to him. He got back to me pretty quick.”

Through Lotus Land, Noble tracks down artists, like Family of Eve or Wind Chymes, who pressed records in very limited quantities during the ’70s. He checks to see if they have any copies hanging around in their basements, and, when appropriate, helps the artists sell the records off to collectors. The songs he really likes, he licenses and re-releases himself.

So, after hearing back from Smallwood, Noble went out for a visit. After conducting some business in Pittsburgh, he rented a car and drove down to Smallwood’s home in Hyattsville. “I was going to take some pictures and go through his master tapes to see what he had on the table,” explains Noble.

He didn’t count on getting a show, though. “I walked in and he was playing Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller.’ Then his friend came over and started playing congas,” he recalls. “I had a flight the next morning and I had to sleep on a bed downstairs. But it was really hard for me to get to sleep with them playing. I missed my flight. I tried to watch as much of the show as I could, but around hour six.…”

As it turns out, Noble was only the first of several record collectors to come knocking on George Smallwood’s door. But just like Noble, everybody gets a show.

George Smallwood’s home probably hasn’t changed all that much since the heyday of disco. On the living room floor there’s a dusty sculpture of a man and a woman in a carnal embrace. The parlor table hosts a large zodiac-themed ashtray, and the backyard is largely occupied by a giant above-ground swimming pool.

And then there’s the keyboard: The Yamaha PSR-510 sits in the corner of Smallwood’s rec-room—a converted garage—next to a microphone. It doesn’t take a lot of coaxing to get Smallwood, who is nearing 65, to climb behind it.

One Monday afternoon, Smallwood—looking relaxed in a white athletic suit, shades, and hiking boots—plays some of his standards. He sets off one of the keyboard’s pre-programmed drum machine rhythms, considers it, and decides it’s the right fit. Then he slows the tempo down some. Then he slows it down some more. “Touching is my thing, what’s yours?” Smallwood sings over a bed of tinkling quiet-storm chords. “I like candy canes and toys.”

He’s practicing songs that he’s planning to perform during a show at Comet Ping Pong, booked for him by Andrew Morgan, owner of the record label Peoples Potential Unlimited. It’ll be Smallwood’s first gig in some time, not counting the concerts he occasionally gives at retirement homes and churches. “That’s the song I was going to open the show with,” he says. “Once they get inside those doors, all the problems and troubles of the world are left outside, it’s my job to make them totally forget.” It takes Smallwood’s voice a minute to get going, but once his pipes are warmed up he can croon like Luther Vandross. His Balmy take on the Carptenters’ four-hanky weeper “Superstar” flows forth like Kahlúa into a snifter.

When Smallwood  is really feeling the rhythm he flips on the keyboard’s metronome, letting the steady click add some oomph to the backbeat. This usually happens around the second verse.

And the music never stops—instead, it just fades away. This is the singer’s preferred method for getting from one song to the next. The keyboard is equipped with a fade-in/out button that, when pressed, causes the backing track to slowly evaporate into silence. Even on his records, it’s rare to hear him stop on a dime.

Then it’s on to another song. “Put on your wings and let’s fly,” sings Smallwood over a the keyboard’s Kraftwerk-ian Latin groove. It’s “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” This goes on for hours.

Smallwood loves to talk as much as he likes to play (“I walk with 450 hours of music in me,” he says). But getting details out of him is difficult. He tends to deflect questions or shift the subject. “If you don’t know him very well, he’s not very forthcoming with information,” says Kevin Coombe, who runs the archival website D.C. Soul Recordings. “Since he lacks the ability to see he has to get to know somebody before he reveals details of his life.”

Born in D.C. at the end of 1945, Smallwood grew up in a musical family but had little interest in pursuing music full-time. He drove trucks professionally until 1968, the year he lost his vision. George doesn’t like to talk about how or what happened. If pressed, he’ll say that he “had an accident.”

Once Smallwood went blind, music became his life. He taught himself to sing and play keyboard. Because of his disability, forming a band was a bit of a challenge. So he recruited people who were in his immediate vicinity: his family and, later on, his mailman, who turned out to be a pretty good bass player.

Over the course of about a decade, Smallwood and his group, Marshmellow Band, released six singles and an LP, Just 4 You. None of these took off. “His singles really did not go anywhere,” says Coombe. “They were mostly distributed to family and friends and maybe put in a few record stores. He got on a public access show one time. It was very local. About as local as it gets.”

But somehow they found an audience abroad. Northern Soul DJs in Britain picked up on Smallwood’s songs. “When big Motown hits were coming out people would self-release copycat singles and the British would hear about it. Rich DJs would fly out here and bring them back,” explains Noble. “That’s how all the records got discovered over there. People in America didn’t start caring until after eBay.”

These days they’re willing to drop some pretty tall paper on them, too. Copies of Just 4 You have fetched $1,000. Smallwood isn’t necessarily cashing in big-time, but some of the money from the sale of his old records has made its way back to the man who made them. Some labels have also licensed his songs for re-release. Peoples Potential Unlimited recently re-issued Smallwood’s single “Lady Disco” and London-based label Jazzman will be putting out a compilation album later this winter.

“George’s songs aren’t picture-perfect Northern Soul,” explains Noble. “It’s a little bit different. There’s this extra touch to it. When he was doing that version of ‘Thriller,’ it was this epic 30-minute song. But I didn’t know it was ‘Thriller’ until 15-minutes in. He can take any song and Smallwood-ize it.”

Coombe provides a sharper definition of Smallwood-ization. “He really is Mr. Mellow,” he says. “He takes the song and no matter how much energy the song had originally, he makes it smoothed out and very soulful in his own particular way.”

“They say, ‘George, do you ever do a song the way it’s written?’ And I say, ‘I just don’t hear it that way,’” says Smallwood. “I ain’t Prince, I ain’t trying to be Prince.…Being different, I find, is the hardest thing.”

Smallwood performs at 10:30 p.m. on Friday, Nov. 13 at Comet Ping Pong, 5037 Connecticut Avenue, NW. $5. (202) 364-0404.

Photo courtesy of Kevin Coombe, DCSoulrecordings.com

Bassist/vocalist Justin Angelo Morey has a sharp ear for ’60s R&B hooks and Zombies-style harmonies. “Gloomy Monday Morning,” with it’s farfisa organ grooves, is such a thorough psych-pop forgery that even Lenny Kaye wouldn’t know for sure. And a lifetime of high volume pounding will do wonders for your rhythm section. Strawberry Alarm Clock could have benefited from such a stint on the New England basement-show circuit.

The Black Hollies w/ Title Tracks and Brian Scary and the Shredding Tears
@ Black Cat
$10 8:30 pm
1811 14th St. NW

First, Asa Osborne—formerly of Baltimore gnostic/punk quartet Lungfish—will perform with his guitar/organ project, Zomes. Lisa Selin Davis will read. That’s kind of a tough gig, though, considering the last person to put words in or around Osborne’s music was Dan Higgs.

Then, in February, J. Robbins—fresh from reissuing the late ’90s masterpiece For Your Own Special Sweetheart and performing on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon with the reunited Jawbox—will perform his first ever solo show. Marianne Villanueva and Steve Fellner will read.

Dates and details after the jump:

December 4, 2009
Readings from Lisa Selin Davis (Belly)
Musical Performance by Zomes (Asa Osborne of Lungfish)

February 19, 2010
Readings from Marianne Villanueva (Mayor of Roses)
and Steve Fellner (Out Loud)
Musical Performance: J. Robbins Sings J. Robbins
(First ever solo show! New interpretations of Jawbox songs and other works from his canon)

This is a free event.
Program Begins at 8:00 PM
The Writer’s Center is located on the Red Line
at 4508 Walsh Street, Bethesda, MD

Tittsworth:

-A man has our elevator filled to the brim w/plants. Its like a 2 acre jungle crammed into a cubicle. he’s complaining the door won’t shut.

-i think i just discovered the malkovich floor of my building? what exactly is going on the 3rd floor? :-)

-Mother fucker, I’m trying to watch the lost boys!!

Wale:

-dear ucb..i will go to breakfast w/ yall but i am NOT goin to eat a Dinosaur sized pancake at “The Griddle”

-everybody askin what kinda shoes im wearin…haa

-09 airmaxes http://pic.gd/38d0d6

Casper Bangs:

-is listening to some old songs he wrote and thinking that they are not that good.

-The Whitespace 7″ should in stores soon, but it’s available now here: http://www.dischord.com/release/ws01/whitspace

Tabi Bonney:

-My bookbag smells like it’s been eatin chicken behind my back…literally

-Somebody somewhere has candy paint…on their house though.

-I think I’m just gonna say “Jordan!” after I have sex or something from now on.

From Dave Malitz’s interview on Post-Rock last April:

“I knew how to make a release weird and good. But I just banged out all these offers and they ended up coming out at the same time. I kind of knew the recordheads would like it. I knew made sure it was weird enough while still sitting on my ultimate full-length for a bigger label.”

From Jonah Weiner’s profile in the New York Times:

“I know the band is going to get real tight the more we play, but I’m nervous, man,” he said, heading backstage to tune his acoustic guitar. “I want people to be able to hear all the different dynamics.”

And in Maggie Serrota’s interview in AV Club, he explains why he’s been comparing his record to My Bloody Valentine’s shoegaze behemoth Loveless:

I said that mainly to hype it up because I was really anxious to get it out there—so I had to say something

Which is great, actually. It seems rare that people who make sludgy, weird music are so open about actually, you know, upfront about wanting people to listen to it. And listen to it they should. The best tracks from Childish Prodigy, Vile’s Matador debut, strikes a sweet spot between hermetic basement grot and the grandeur of the most transcendent Bruce Strpingsteen studio jam. Kurt Vile may not be shy about hyping his tunes, but at least he can deliver on it.

Kurt Vile & The Violators w/ Benjee Ferree, The New Flesh
@ Black Cat
$12, 8:30 pm
1811 14th St. NW

Bite Sized Sets at Comet: Shortstack from All Our Noise on Vimeo.