Chris Merritt

Shirts! Bags! Stickers! Posters! YEAH!

The first ever Chris Merritt merchandise has arrived! The exceptionally talented Elsie from A Beautiful Mess has gone and outdone herself with these phenomenal works of cuteness. Beautiful and timeless! I am blown away to see my name on such kick-ass paraphernalia.

This impending impedimenta will soon be available for purchase in limited numbers on this very website. But first, it will make its debut at the Chris Merritt Provo show this Friday! If you need another reason to attend, here it is. Be the first to grab this sexy stuff and be the envy of your friends!

Pictured sporting the 2009 Chris Merritt collection is the Terrible Madame E herself, and a very special man named Jeremy Larsen. Jeremy makes some of the best damn songs I’ve ever heard - listen to this - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=foskqJ0KrFY. (Here’s another Jeremy clip with that silly BEZILLY drummer from Mutemath)

More of the same

Yeah, well it’s so hard

This Thursday, I will be flying to Utah, playing a show on Friday, hugging Dustin’s family, and then flying home again.

The show was Corey’s (owner and brainchild of Velour) idea, and it’s going to be this intimate, sit-down, storyteller-type show. I have a slew of new songs that I can’t wait to try on the hardcore fans. I’ll also be taking requests and interrupting my own songs with stories about them.

If you live in the state of Utah, don’t miss it. It might be the best Chris Merritt acoustic show ever. Get tickets NOW, or get there way early on Friday. It’s not a typical standing-room show, so 150 or so seats will pack the place. First come first serve, etc. We’ll be so close to each other that we’ll be able to feel each others breath on each others beards.

Played a little acoustic gig before driving home from Norfolk/VA Beach this weekend.

Someone posted a high-quality video (thanks Jerry!) of a new song called Rain King.  The song starts at about a minute in.

Ha, so, the actual lyrics are “….and every girl I thought was pure and sweet was only acting cute to try and $&#* me”, which is like, this shock-value-funny kind of thing.  BUT, there were these really sweet looking, happy older ladies right up front, and so I chickened out and replaced “$&#* me” with “fool me” at the last second!

Self-censorship.

Some of the Demos Of Nod packs in the store (which are going down, like, today or tomorrow by the way) include a personalized song, hastily written and recorded by myself, sent to your email inbox.  I thought I would share one that I was fond of - for a young gentleman named Matt, posted here with kind permission.

+

+

I give myself a time limit of one hour on these kinds of things, from conception to finished mp3.  I knew the following for certain about Matt: 1. He lived in or near Philadelphia and 2. He was a fan of Rent, the musical. Mix in a healthy dose of listening to too much They Might Be Giants.

Matt in Philly (or somewhere around Philly), thanks for your purchase and email; it was so nice to get a well-written email.  It was so rare to get a well-composed email.  It was so nice to get a well-composed email.

When I was, like, sixteen, I drove a bunch of girls to see Rent and we went the wrong way and missed half of it.

Now I feel guilty every time someone mentions it, yeah, but I know it’s not a very good reason not to like Rent.  I know it’s not a good reason, but still I hate Rent.  I know it’s not a good reason, but still I hate Rent.

demo version of I Get Sad:

+

and here’s a slightly different full-band version that we did for a “motion picture”

+

My favorite artist in the Universe is a guy named Jim Woodring.

So, my mom gave me this comic book called Frank.  This was like, five years ago.  Paperface was hopeful and ready for Imminent Rockstardom (read: naive little bastards) and piled in a van leaving for California when she handed it to me.  She had happened upon it at a used book store (my mom is very big on used book stores) and apparently she thought it looked weird enough to be something I would like.  And I read it, and I was very confused and annoyed.  But then I read it again, and again, and probably fifteen more times by the time the van rolled into Los Angeles.  Ever since, I’ve been clinically addicted to Frank.  I’ve had to re-buy Frank collections many times because I’m constantly peddling the drug.  Check out this sample.

Anyway, Mr. Woodring is from Seattle and I wrote him a letter.  I wanted to get his mailing address, so my friend and I looked him up in a Seattle phone book.  I didn’t think it would actually be him…I’m not sure exactly what we expected to happen, actually.  But anyway, it was him.  I called Jim Woodring’s home phone, and here’s how the conversation went to the best of my memory (I’m not making this up):

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Mr. Woodring?”

“You….you fucking, little retard.  FUCK YOU.”

“Oh, sorry to bother you, I was trying to find your mailing-…”

“OH.  Oh!  I’m sorry, I thought you were my son.”

“…”

“He and I enjoy being rude to one other!”

Anyway, I mailed my letter, and he sent me a really nice letter back (needlessly apologizing for calling me a fucking retard), and included a pencil drawing of my soul!

Recently I played a gig in Seattle, and it was right near Woodring’s comic shop!  I went in, and asked if they had any Woodring stuff, and the guy behind the counter got excited and said, “You know Jim comes in here all the time, don’t you?” And then he proceeded to re-enact Woodring’s apparently consistent pathway through the store, narrating as he went.  Then he showed me his extensive Frank collection and I spent my last sixty dollars in cash.

Wodring.  Frank.  Jim.  This is pure truth, folks, but nicely wrapped in an knee-slapping, mind-massaging, pretty package.  It’s like peering at the fabric of reality through the disembodied eyes of Bugs Bunny.  Highly, highly recommended.

So I often tell people this: the first time I heard some of my favorite bands/artists, I hated them.  I hated OK Computer by Radiohead when I first heard it.  I only listened for a second and third time because my friend Wes swore by it and I felt stupid that I didn’t get it.  Well, that, and I could hear something there.  But it didn’t make much sense.  Now when I hear that album, it’s hard for me to understand that there was ever a time when I didn’t just enjoy it.  It seems obvious, now.  It seems like just a collection of fun, melodic rock songs.

The same goes for every Frank Black record ever made.  I excitedly rip open a new Frank Black CD and jam it in the player, and feel confused and annoyed within five minutes.  Every time, without exception, I think, “Oh boy.  Frankie’s really gone and bit the shark now.  Poor Frank.”  But two weeks later, it feels like the only record that even matters, or has ever mattered.

The first time I heard Weezer.  In The Garage.  Hated it.  Hated Bush for a week.  I remember where I was standing and who was in the room the first time I hated Ben Folds Five.  I honestly remember feeling sorry and embarrassed for Kent the first time I heard Isola.  Pedro The Lion.  Rufus Wainwright.  Pinback.  Wilco.

Anyway, I tell people this from time to time, and they always think I’m crazy, or they say something like, “Well, I always know right away if I’m going to like a band or not.”  Yeah, but you also paid four dollars for a fucking Killers ringtone, so go to hell.  Anyway, I felt an affirmation when I read this excerpt from the brilliant and hilarious Douglas Adams on The Beatles:

The next exciting thing was that they kept on losing me.  They would bring out a new album and for a few listenings it would leave me cold and confused.  Then gradually it would begin to unravel itself in my mind.  I would realize that the reason I was confused was that I was listening to Something that was simply unlike anything that anybody had done before.  “Another Girl,” “Good Day Sunshine,” and the extraordinary “Drive My Car.”  These tracks are so familiar now that it takes a special effort of will to remember how alien they seemed at first to me.  The Beatles were now not just writing songs, they were inventing the very medium in which they were working.

-Douglas Adams, The [London] Sunday Times, 1992

NEW DEMO ALERT.  Working title:  Another World.  Have a listen, won’t you?

http://www.thesixtyone.com/chrismerritt/song/Another+World+%28Demo%29/52474/

Jacob Thro, Brett Ripley and I demo’ed this new(ish) song I’ve been writing.

I thought this was an amazing playlist, so I thought I would share it with y’all:

An email from a friend, after meeting/greeting/giving a burned Chris Merritt CD to Frank Black/Black Francis (the greatest songwriter of our time) and his wife, Violet (together, they make up Grand Duchy):

Here’s the tracklisting and, I swear to God, if you go on tour with them because of this, you’ll owe me for the rest of your life:
1. The Palace Flophouse (Hello, Little Captain)
2. Off and On (Hello, Little Captain)
3. Milksop/Virginia (Hello, Little Captain)
4. Beautiful Ms. Parker (Songs I Wrote…)
5. Baby Understand (Songs I Wrote…)
6. Sherlock Holmes (Songs I Wrote…)
7. Layer Cake (Pixie and the Bear)
8. The Long Road (Pixie and the Bear)
9. Cruise Elroy (Pixie and the Bear)
10. Bleach (Pixie and the Bear)
11. North (Pixie and the Bear)
12. Cell (Hello, Little Captain)
13. Madison (Pixie and the Bear)
14. Boys [Lovin' Each Other] feat. Benny Satchel (most recent cut)

What would YOUR playlist look like?