My mom called at 10:15 tonight, which is strange since she's normally in bed by 10:30.

"Bon journo, mon blah blahio."

She said something in Italian which I took to mean, "Good evening, my son" or something of that nature. I took French in high school, so Italian is Greek to me. She's been taking some Italian classes over the past few months so that one day she may be able to carry on a conversation with her favorite blind opera singer, Andrea Bocelli.

"What kind of pie do you want for Thanksgiving?" She asked me this question about two minutes into "What It Takes to Be Alone," the second track off Atombombpocketknife's self titled debut. "Uhanythingbutmincemeatthisyear."

"I can't hear you. Wait, let me try and change phone here. [click] Okay, so I was thinking of doing mince meat again."

"Anythingbutmincemeatmom."

"What are you saying?"

"ImtalkinglikethenameofthisbandIhavetoreview. I'm talking like the name of this band I have to review."

"I see. What are they called, Mumbo Jumbo?"

"No, Atombombpocketknife. They're from Chicago."

"Are they like Fugazi."

"Well, sort of." Heh. She'd always been partial to Fugazi's name. I guess it's easy to remember. "It sounds more like a slower Unwound, if you really want to know."

"Oh, play some for me."

"You wouldn't like it."

"Just play some!"

[music music music music music]

"Enough! You're right, I don't like it. How can you listen to that stuff? It sounds like a chainsaw. And that person isn't even singing. You can't call that singing."

"Well, it's more about the rhythm than melody. They're building up layers of rhythmic sound textures. I'm not saying that I like it."

"Then why are you listening to it?"

"I have to. I need to review it."

"Make sure and talk about the chainsaws in your review. Here, play it again so I can run the garbage disposal in time to it."

"Not all music has to sound good, mom. I mean, you can appreciate it for its ideas, too."

"How wise for a young man... [clickclick] Oh, hold on. There's another call." [clickclick]

By this time the album had repeated back to the first track, "Disintegrate the New Generation." Sounds like Built to Spill's Doug Martsch singing lyrics he wrote in fourth grade: "I am numb now/ Sucking thumbs now/ My disintegration/ Looks like a new generation." Next comes "What It Takes to Be Alone" again. "Those gymnastics/ Look fantastic/ They make us look like we're made of plastic." Ah, yes. How true, how true. The songs tend to run together in a Lungfish-ish sort of way. Kind of a cross between a bad Unwound song and "23 Beats Off" from Fugazi's In On the Killtaker. Despite the additions they grant their respective albums, they don't necessarily make for an interesting listening experience on their own.

[clickclick] "Okay, I'm back. That was your sister. Will you be able to pick her up from the airport?"

"Yeah, she already told me."

"Oh, right. Well, let me see... what else? Did you tell me what pie you wanted?"

"Bananacherrychocolatecream."

-Chip Chanko