It’s the middle of February, and you know what that means: Valentine’s Day, one of the year’s most controversial holidays, is upon us. Similarly celebrated and hated, fussed over or made fun of, this all-sorts saint’s day is nonetheless an inexorability of our buy-or-die culture. Everywhere, from the corner grocery store to the gas station down the street, everything is decked out in a dazzling display of red, white, and chocolate, while everyone seems to be selling confections, carnations, and cards, taunting lovers either to embrace Cupid or grab him by the throat. It’s a difficult dilemma, especially for even the sincerest romantics.

Our hearts are listening.

We mean you, of course, dear readers. We at Scribbleskiff understand your pain. We have even felt it and dealt with it ourselves. And we are here to help (or hinder) you in your efforts to make sense of all this senseless sensuality by offering a bouquet of the best love songs from the past year – that is, songs that in one way or another invoke “love” and its many-splendored-thinginess. There are happy tunes and sad ballads, songs of wonderment and worry, written by nice guys and bad girls, confident lovers and confused losers — “and then there are folks like you and me,” as Camper Van Beethoven once wryly observed. Whether you are in a relationship, or simply “in between,” we hope you will find something here to sing about. Enjoy!

“Lucky Now,” Ryan Adams. Alt-country crooner Adams returned last year with Ashes & Fire, a quieter, more introspective release than his more rocked-out recent efforts. And if that’s your sweet spot (and it should be), then it’s your lucky day.

“Any Way You Want It,” Clem Snide. One of the best covers of last year, this stripped-down track from an EP of deftly ticklish lo-fi reinterpretations, will make even the most jaded indie rock-lover fall for this Journey chestnut.

“Little Talks,” Of Monsters and Men. The collective sound of this new (well, new to us in the US, at least) Icelandic folk-rock collective may remind you of others you once desired — think Edward Sharpe meets Bjork — but they will win you over on their own accord(ion).

“Bedroom Eyes,” Dum Dum Girls. Despite their name, this winsome foursome from LA craft smart post-pop songs that offer a seductive mix of surfer licks and shoegazer swirl. You’ll swoon, fer sure.

“Romance,” Wild Flag. As changeable as its subject, this first single from the self-titled debut from Wild Flag — the quote it-”grrl” super-band unquote — will keep you guessing as it slips effortlessly into and out of its many-layered garments, from punk to power-pop to ’60s doo-wop, and back again.

So, there you have it, a musical medicament meant to make you feel good (or bad) about the person you want to share that loving (or loathing) feeling with. It’s what we do.

As always, tell us what you think. Do you have a favorite love song from this past year? Is there a new song or band you’ve discovered and want to tell others about? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

This is the next installment in our “Janus Series,” in which we are glancing back at a few of our favorite things from 2011 in order to get you excited about what may lie ahead. As always, there’s no rhyme or reason to the order of things; it’s just a jumble of ideas and items, provided to distract you from whatever it is you need to be distracted from. Ah, Scribbleskiff.

The highest form of booklust.

Just as 2011 proved to be a loverly year for music-lovers, it was no less so inclined for book-lovers, especially those who have an incurable predilection for poetry — to us at Scribbleskiff, the highest form of booklust. A delicious number of poetry books rained down on us last year.

The first fell like Cupid’s arrows. Last February, while most of the country — the well-red majority, at least — was celebrating the 100th birthday of Ronald Reagan, a well-read portion was quietly observing another centennial: Elizabeth Bishop, who exerted more influence on modern poetry’s middle years than is often acknowledged, turned 100 on the 8th. Or would’ve, that is, since, like Ronnie, she’s long gone.

Several books by and about Bishop were published last year in honor of this makeshift milestone (this one and this one, for example). And though most covered the same stretch of highway — Bishop was a late-bloomer and painfully under-prolific; her collected prose and poems fill only two modest volumes — it’s worth having as many collections of her moving and intelligent observations on hand as possible. Her poems, at times both whimsically odd and deeply affecting, especially so.

Consider “One Art” as prime example. Read it only once — or, better yet, listen to it read by blithe Blythe Danner (here and below) — and you will forever recall the refrain each time you misplace something, precious or not.

Another indispensable reissue last year was the facsimile of the original 1923 Contact Press edition of Spring and All, by William Carlos Williams. Considered one of the 20th century’s most influential American poems, this “manifesto of the imagination,” which alternates between bursts of free verse and prose, explores how language creates and recreates the world — and vice-versa. Spring and All contains some of Williams’s best-known poems, such as “By the road to the contagious hospital” (also known as “Spring and All”) and “The Red Wheelbarrow”:

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens

Beautiful and enigmatic, commonplace and essential, like a secret garden, it’s what we return to every spring. Although never really out of print – Spring and All has been included in full in several collections, such as Imaginations – it’s somehow more titillating for us bibliophiles to hold a stand-alone version, lovingly reproduced by New Directions to appear the way it was first published (by a vanity press!) almost 90 years ago.

We courted and caressed several new books last year, by very much alive authors, including Wait: Poems, by C.K. Williams, Your Father on the Train of Ghosts, the collaboration by John Gallaher and G.C. Waldrep, and In The Back Chamber, the twentieth book of poetry by former U.S. Poet Laureate Donald Hall. All uniquely fulfilling in their own ways.

But if you only read one book of poems a year (and, for that, we are truly sorry) make it Happy Life, by David Budbill. In fact, Happy Life, published last August by Copper Canyon Press (our favorite poetry book-makers), makes for essential poetry reading for people who say they don’t like to read poetry. Why? Look no further than the opening poem in which the speaker rants, “I’ve spent most of my life / pissing and moaning about / never having any money, / never being known …” etc. Then reconsiders, after realizing that “for more than forty years / my days have been my own.” Only to admit, “It takes a long time for some people / to realize how lucky they are.” T.S. Eliot this ain’t.

Here’s another, “This Morning,” compact and profound in its simplicity:

Oh, this life,
the now;
this morning,

which I
can turn
into forever

by simply
loving
what is here,

is gone
by noon.

There are three reasons why we continue to buy and read David Budbill’s books, and why you should, too: Like Bishop and Williams, Budbill turns out undecorated but skillfully crafted poems that are immediately approachable, yet resonate long after you’ve turned the page; his subject matter touches on both universal and personal themes, often in the same lyrical passage; and his penchant for quietude should be a lesson to us all in this noisy, nosy culture. He’s also wonderfully cranky, witty, tender, honest, melancholic, joyful, insightful, caustic, wrong-headed, etc. In other words, these are poems you can read, relate to, and derive benefit from, on a daily basis.

Don’t believe us? Take Garrison Keillor’s word, then. He has included Budbill’s poems in his Good Poems anthologies, and regularly reads them on his “Writer’s Almanac” radio series. (Here’s “Winter Is the Best Time,” from a previous collection.) So much depends on that, too, for sure.

As always, tell us what you think. Do you have a favorite book or poem from 2011? Is there a new poet you’ve discovered and want to tell others about? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Because the month of January (named for the two-headed ancient god, Janus) teeters on the fence between the old year and the new, it offers a distinct vantage point for glancing backward at what has been, as a way to predict what may be lurking up ahead. In other words, it’s a time for deciding whether “been there, done that” should become “go back there, do it again” or “don’t go back to Rockville and waste another year.”

Were they saying "so long" all along? Oh my heart.

So that’s what we’ve been doing these past few days and will try to convey in the coming weeks (or for as long as we can sustain it): Looking over the catalog of our favorite things from 2011 in order to get excited about what lies ahead. There’s no rhyme or reason to the order of this list-making, really; it’s just a jumble of ideas and items, provided to distract you from whatever it is you need to be distracted from. Ain’t that just like Scribbleskiff?

In terms of music, or at least in terms of the music and musicians we at Scribbleskiff adore, 2011 was a love-in. So many singles, EPs, and LPs, from start-ups and stalwarts alike, were just too tempting to resist. So we didn’t, and over the next few postings we’ll offer a few selections, along with some suggestive excuses, why that we think you should succumb too.

And, speaking of stalwarts, what better way to start our sort-of “best of” list than with “All the Best” from Collapse Into Now, the newest (and, as it turned out, final) collection of new material from R.E.M. The second cut on the LP, “All the Best” explodes from your speakers, bursting with the band’s trademark tricks of the trade: jangly, crashing guitars, Stipe’s familiar speak-crooning, and a kick-slapping drum and bass line. Despite its placement on their 15th studio recording, “All the Best” could easily fall in line with R.E.M.’s earlier raucous rockers, like “Begin the Begin,” “What’s the Frequency, Kenneth?” or “The One I Love,” which it echoes in a number of ways.

Watch All the Best:

Now, as any faithful reader knows, we hold a sacred place in our Scribbleskiffing heart for the Athens foursome. So it’s understandable that we felt like sad tomatoes when the band called it quits last fall, seemingly suddenly and on the heels of a strong new record. Turns out, though, they had been plotting their exit for awhile, and we should have seen it coming. From the title of the record to the song titles (“Oh My Heart” and “Blue,” for example) and the lyrics (like, “let’s give it one more time” or “isn’t it just like me to overstay my welcome”), and even the hand-wave on the cover, everything says “good-bye.”

Too bad. We weren’t ready to see them go and were looking forward to more murmuring. Because, despite the distortion from all the qualifiers (“not as good as [insert favorite record title]”) and decriers (“they should have quit after [insert least favorite title]”), we enjoyed Collapse Into Now as much as anything in the R.E.M. catalog, and we turned to it as often as the other 2011 releases by quote-new-unquote bands that we flipped for, like Yuck and Wild Flag.

But don’t despair. R.E.M. may be gone, but we’ll be back soon to talk about more of “all the best” from 2011 — in beers and books, too. As well as what we are looking forward to in 2012, so stay tuned.

As always, tell us what you think. Do you have a favorite song or record from this past year? Is there a new band you’ve discovered and want to tell others about? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Scribbleskiff is sitting in dry-dock for a spell. We’re taking some time away from the business of busyness to rest and clear out the scuppers, so to speak, to restock our supplies, chart new courses, and ready ourselves for the next adventure.

A few of our favorite new seasonals

For instance, we’re keeping our weather eye trained on the approaching, unusually large waves of seasonal drafts — both autumnal and Yultidal. Also, the alluring siren songs of bands both familiar and foreign have been calling to us from the far shore. And we have been receiving reports of new book launches, as well as sitings of old tomes worth rediscovering and re-examining. And much, much more.

So, we’ll be back soon with a fresh store of aimless writing intended to distract you from your daily routine. Until then, here are a few of our (and others’) favorite posts, in each category, from the past year or so. If you are a faithful reader, then you may enjoy having the chance to riffle through them again. If you have never read Scribbleskiff, then these will be new to you. Enjoy!

Beery Scribblings
Not Near Enough: In Search of the Elusive, Authentic German Radler
Sacre Bleu! The Best French Beers for Thanksgiving May Be Made in America
How to Host Your Own ‘Mencktoberfest’

Bookish Babble
Of Poems and Promises, Meatloaf, Memories, and the Pleasures of Failure
It’s No Myth: Fathers and Sons Who Read (and Write) Together Can Grow Together
Finding the ‘Wit’ in Twitter

Musical Musings
Musically Speaking, My Kids Are All Right
It’s a ‘70s Thing: Learning to Fall in Love Again With the Songs of Alex Chilton
When It Comes to Some Tribute Records, Mature Imitation May Be Most Flattering

So, there you have it, a Scribbleskiff sampler — a triple trifecta of trivial treats. As always, tell us what you think. Do you have a favorite post from this past year? Or is there something new you want to learn more about — a seasonal craft beer, for instance, a song by an unknown band, or a recently published poetry collection? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Eat fresh.

Yes, I’m quoting the simplistic and simply cloying Subway ad campaign. I’m not sure it even makes sense, grammatically speaking (and I’m not the only one). But it’s nonetheless a not-unwise directive for healthy living. After all, when was the last time you ordered an Italian BMT, glanced at the contents, and returned it to the “Sandwich Artist” behind the counter because the greens were “not quite brown enough,” or the salami just didn’t seem “slimy”? Never, I hope.

Keeping it fresh with seasonal beer.

Thus, eating fresh — food, presumably — offers a number of obvious advantages. Not the least of which is being able to enjoy what you’re consuming at the peak of, well, enjoyment.

The same can, and should, be said for beer consumption, too — drink fresh, as it were.

Now, we at Scribbleskiff regularly extol the benefits of drinking our draughts in their suitable seasons — for instance, making a point of pouring a pint (or two) of Guinness on St. Patty’s Day (as we did here) or, now that spring’s sprung and Easter’s a hop away, popping and sipping a few bottles of bock. Etc.

But doing so does not by rights guarantee your brew is actually fresh. Quite often that’s not the case at all. Many bottled beers are stewed and stowed weeks before going to market, and even some so-called “seasonals,” like Oktoberfest marzens, have become so popular that they’re available all year long.

Please note: I’m not here to debate the merits of adhering to the “sell-by” or (heaven help me) “born-on” date. That’s an entirely different rule of thumb and a matter of common sense, along the lines of checking the stamp on a carton of milk before dunking your Oreos.

Rather, this article concerns the notion of acquiring and consuming a limited-release malt beverage, often concocted from a novel recipe, at the time of its liberation. Doing so — opening a bottle of hand-crafted specialty ale or lager, mere moments after it rolls off the line — is the best way to experience what the puritans call “real beer.”

The major factor in this equation is to drink locally, or at least to buy your suds brewed as close to home as possible. Short of spending every evening at a brewpub, or installing your own mashing tun and DIY-ing it, this is the best way to ensure freshness. Think of it as the spiritual equivalent of the “locavore” movement.

And what’s the best way to succeed in this endeavor? Ask for help. And I never go wrong when I consult with Jed, my go-to new-brew-guy at The Wine Source. It was he in fact who started me thinking in this direction several weeks back, when he answered my casual “what’s new?” by pointing to the stacks of six-packs of Nugget Nectar, an annual all-star from Troeg’s Brewing Co. “It just came in today,” he grinned, “and it’s amazing right now.” He was right, as always. Because the beer, an imperial (i.e., heavily hoppy) amber ale available for a few weeks starting in February, came from only a few miles away, it had been bottled only days before arriving on the shelf. So, when I popped the top that night and poured a glassful to accompany a plate of homemade bean burritos and guacamole, the result was a beautifully bright orange, crisp and clean beer, brimming with pungent Nugget (and at least 4 other) hops aromas. How was the combination? In a word: ambrosia.

I had a similar experience recently with Aprihop, a limited-release spring seasonal from Dogfish Head. I’ve encountered and enjoyed this brew before, both on draft and in the bottle. So, when I saw the announcement on their Facebook page that the beer would be available on March 1, I made sure to have it in my hand by the evening of March 2. Sweet and tart, tangy and zesty, it’s an American-style IPA made with fresh apricots — and it’s like drinking the fruit straight from the tree. Sure, it will ripen and mellow a little over the coming weeks, changing flavors and its color a little. And it will still be very good. But picking up a beer at the peak of freshness is a treat — like buying Krispy Kremes when the red light is lit.

And, speaking of fresh treats for an Irish spring (though not necessarily this one), I recently took a different tack on St. Patrick’s Day and filled my trusty schooner with Aarsh Red Ale, a new release from Heavy Seas. This Imperial Irish red, a balanced blend of malty caramel sweetness and spicy hops bitterness, proved a delightfully lithe alternative to the typical canned tradition of Extra Stout. And again, seeking maximum freshness — buying a newfangled locally brewed beer within days of its birth — made for smooth sailing.

Thus endeth the lesson. To summarize: while it’s true that most beers, craft-brewed or otherwise, if stored properly, will last for months and still taste great. And some beers benefit from extended aging in the bottle — Chimay Grand Reserve, for example. But when a new, limited-quantity seasonal arrives, one that’s brewed nearby and delivered almost immediately, don’t wait for it to ripen on the shelf. For goodness’ sake, grab it!

January is named for Janus, the Roman god of gates and doors, beginnings and endings. Often depicted with two heads — or, more unnervingly, with one head and two faces — Janus had the ability to look forward and backward at the same time.

Just a few of our favorite things in 2010.

Which seems a fitting namesake for a month that straddles the twelvemonth fence, endlessly putting the old year out to pasture and ushering in the new. And having such an origin may explain why so many of us citizens are inclined to spend a portion of January glancing over our shoulders, cataloging our accomplishments (and, ah-hem, failures) from the year gone by, and peering out toward the horizon, hopefully compiling lists of things to do.

We at Scribbleskiff are not above summational list-making, either. Although not fans of the art of compiling “top” lists — picking the most favorite among our favorite beers, books, or bands equates to a Sophie’s Choice, and miserable failure is inevitable. For example, we set out to create an iTunes playlist of the top 10 tunes of 2010 (clever, huh?) and wound up with a scroll 37 songs long that couldn’t be pared down. So it goes.

Nonetheless, we like to be categorical on occasion, picking out some “songs for a quiet moment,” for instance, or “six beers for a summer solstice,” etc. Doing so makes us feel less disorganized than normal and, perhaps, a bit more purposeful. More important, we recently received some pointed requests to “tally things up” and “entertain us” — Nostradamus-like — with predictions for next year’s bests. So we are caving in to both our whims and the peer pressure. (This one’s for you, Otto! Not [necessarily] to be confused with this Otto.)

Falling on the heels of the recently launched series “year-end wrap-up for holiday wrapping,” for which we attempted to take stock of and draw some conclusions about our favorite attainments from 2010 — the books read, beers tasted, bands discovered, etc. — we now bring you our “list of lists.” None of the following is definitive or even all that enlightening, but compiling these compilations has amused us muchly these past few weeks and distracted us from many mid-winter mundanities, and isn’t that the point? Enjoy!

The Seven Most Played Songs of 2010 (According to Our iTunes Library, as of December 31, 2010) That We Didn’t Review
Yes, this is clunky and far from gutsy, but there were more than 415 songs in the 2010 playlist, and it ain’t easy picking ponies. These aren’t necessarily “the best” or “the most [insert superlative]” anything. Apparently, we just liked and played them a lot but didn’t get around to commenting on them, as we did with others here and here.

“Boy,” The Orchard, Ra Ra Riot. Although the fluttery bass line and hooky chamber-pop melodies continually reel me in, it’s singer Wes Miles’ gliding glissando vocals that are the real catch here.
Listen to “Boy” (mp3):

“Wait Up (Boots of Danger),” Champ, Tokyo Police Club. This (non-Asian, non-law-enforcement) Toronto-based four-piece returned last year with a follow-up to their 2008 debut that was energetic, irresistible, and worth the wait.
Listen to “Wait Up (Boots of Danger)” (mp3):

“Big Wave,” I’m Having Fun Now, Jenny & Johnny. Neither half of this duo of indie-rock darlings (Jenny Lewis and Jonathan Rice) has ever sounded as captivating or fun-loving apart as they did together on this single.

Listen to “Big Wave” (mp3):

“Airplanes,” Gorilla Manor, Local Natives. Not locals nor natives (unless you reside in Silver Lake, CA), these guys have fashioned a unique mix of Afro-pop rhythms and laid-back folk lyricism (think Vampire Weekend meets Fleet Foxes) that would seem at home anywhere.
Listen to “Airplanes” (mp3):

“Bloodbuzz Ohio,” High Violet, The National. If there is a such a mellifluously named town in Ohio — and even if there isn’t — this song makes me wish I could be carried there, in a swarm of bees. It also boasts the line most evocative of 2010’s national predicament: “I still owe money to the money I owe.”
Listen to “Bloodbuzz Ohio” (mp3):

“Sad Smile,” A Storm, A Tree, My Mother’s Head, Bobby Bare Jr. With a knack for crafting catchy countrified pop songs (think John Hiatt) tempered with a rock-’n-roll gallows wit (akin to Paul Westerberg’s), Bobby Bare always make me smile, in a not-so-sad way.
Listen to “Sad Smile” (mp3):

“The Book of Love,” Scratch My Back, Peter Gabriel. As an elder statesman of rock, Gabriel can cover just about any band’s song and make it his own. Here he lends an appropriate air of maturity and wistfulness to this song of youthful wonderment by The Magnetic Fields.
Listen to “The Book of Love” (mp3):

(If you are receiving this via email or Facebook and do not see the flash music players below each song, click here to listen in full on the blog site.)

The Three Beers We Wanted to Taste More than Once
Like gluttonous Goldilocks, we tried a lot of different beers last year, in a variety of styles, from amber ales to wheat beers. Most were delicious and provided great accompaniment (and, in some cases, a helping hand) to many good meals. But there were three in particular that we enjoyed and, once we had shared, wished we had not.

San Diego Session Ale, Stone Brewing, Ballast Point Brewing Co., Kelsey McNair. The latest in Stone’s ongoing series of collaboration beers (I reviewed another joint-venture byproduct here), this was not only one of my favorite brews from 2010 it is also one of the best I’ve ever had. Truth. It offers a pucker-making mix of hops bitterness, tangy citrus aromas, and a slightly sweet malt flavor, with plenty of carbonation. It comports well with both appetizers (a nutty Asiago cheese on wheat crackers, for instance) and main dishes, like herb-roasted chicken. Best of all, it’s light in alcohol (4.6%) and clearly designed to be the one beer to have when you’re having more than one.

A Saison Darkly, Stillwater Artisanal Ales. Another collaboration, this time a limited-release black ale flavored with hibiscus and rose hips brewed by Baltimorean Brian Strumke at the Huisbrouwerij Sint Canarus in Deinze-Gottem, Belgium. Strumke, a self-proclaimed “gypsy brewer” and the man behind the curtain at Stillwater (I’ve written about Strumke’s rise from homebrewer to big-leaguer here and elsewhere), has produced several variations on the Saison theme in the past year or so, and this was by far the most complex and delicious. A mix of chocolatey dunkel sweetness and standard Belgian floral aromatics, the flavor combinations were contrasts in character — peppery and citrusy, roasted caramel and fruit (berries), creamy and dry, etc. — and anything but expected. A dark horse, for sure.

Bitches Brew, Dogfish Head Craft Brewery. Speaking of collaboration, this match-up was inspired not by zymurgy but by musicology. Created to coincide with the 40th anniversary release of Miles Davis’ eponymous breakthrough jazz-rock album, the beer fuses an Imperial stout with an African honey beer, creating a dark, rich concoction with sweet overtones. It was surprisingly smooth and delicious, enjoyed as the label suggested, as “the ultimate partner for chili or spicy curry chicken,” or alone, sipped cool — like Davis’ music.

Our Favorite Non-Poetry Reads
As any Scribbleskiff reader knows, our preferred choice for poolside perusing is a slim volume of poetry. We read and recommended several fantastic titles last year, including these. However, we also managed to find time to be delighted by and devour several non-prosodic tomes worthy of mention.

The Ask, by Sam Lipsyte (Farrar, Straus and Giroux), and Super Sad True Love Story, by Gary Shteyngart (Random House). Not much for novel reading, mainly because I have a short attention span, I nonetheless found both of these to be a cut above the usual tiresome and bathetic best-sellers. In fact, they were two of the funniest and most frightening books I’ve ever read. Sad but true — but don’t ask.

Hint Fiction, Robert Swartwood, Ed. (W.W. Norton). What if a haiku were like a novel? Or vice-versa? The entries in this pocket-sized collection, subtitled An Anthology of Stories in 25 Words or Fewer, attempt to answer (or refute) such a hypothesis. Spare and evocative, these 125 “stories,” written by writers both famous (Joyce Carol Oates, Peter Straub) and unknown, illustrate that length doesn’t always ensure complexity in fiction.

Drinkology: The Art and Science of the Cocktail, James Waller (Stewart, Tabori & Chang). I know what you’re thinking: Why didn’t I take that course in college? Well, now you can. Waller’s book, a revised and updated version of the 2003 edition, offers everything any budding bartender or mature mixologist needs to know — from instructions on how to set up and stock a home bar to more than 400 recipes for classic and novel drinks. Best of all, Waller’s writing is as entertaining as it is informative.

Esopus Magazine, The Esopus Foundation. Calling this twice-yearly collection of artists’ projects, critical writing, fiction, poetry, visual essays, interviews, and a themed CD of new music a “magazine” is a little like saying the Grand Canyon is a nice place for a picnic. It just doesn’t cover it. Nonetheless, I look forward to receiving each indescribable issue and savor it with desert-island devotion.

So, there you have it. A sampling of who and what carried us away last year. And now, in Janus-like fashion, as we say goodbye to January, we say hello to what’s in store for Scribbleskiffers in 2011:

• For instance, we are looking forward to over-indulging ourselves on new-music releases from The Decemberists, R.E.M., Cold War Kids, Peter Bjorn & John, among others.
• We’re getting foamy over some new beers we’ve been hearing about, including “Le Terroir,” a dry-hopped sour ale from New Belgium; a new, as-yet unnamed joint brew from Cambridge, Stone, and Victory; “Hoptimum,” an extremely hop-heavy IPA from Sierra Nevada; and “Black Cannon,” a black India pale ale from Heavy Seas.
• And we are making room on the shelf for a slew of new books, including Money Shot, by Rae Armantrout (Wesleyan); Poems, by Elizabeth Bishop (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux); Sky Burial, by Dana Levin (Copper Canyon); How Long, Ron Padgett (Coffee House); and Your Father on the Train of Ghosts, a poetic exchange between G.C. Waldrep and John Gallaher (BOA Editions).

As always, tell us what you think. Did you read/listen to/taste any of these 2010 new releases? Are there others that you think everyone should try? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

In December, a young man’s fancy doesn’t normally turn to thoughts of nature, or to the arousing (and consolatory) effects of it. Not in the usual, “greeny flower” ways, that’s for sure. That’s a spring thing. No, common thoughts of nature this time of year usually involve strategies to avoid it. Sure, snowstorms in a frozen oasis can seem beautiful in their ferocity and stark majesty. But mainly from behind the window of a warm and cozy living-room. Often the only cut flower in a vase you’ll find in our house in December is a Christmas tree.

Jim Harrison's new book of poems is a natural thing.

So why am I thinking (and talking) about the beauty of nature in the dead of winter? Blame Bill McKibben. You see, several years (OK, decades!) ago, I read his book The End of Nature, which was published in 1989, during this country’s last great frog-leap forward in the attempt to prove how important (and easy) it is “being green” (remember the pandering 50 Simple Things You Can Do… book?). Although the thrust of McKibben’s argument was simple — that the survival of the planet “is dependent on a fundamental, philosophical shift in the way we relate to nature” — his doomsday catalog of manmade cataclysms, like global warming, acid rain, deforestation, etc., simply scared the crap out of me. And not in the way he intended, I’m sure. Statements like this one — “in 1988—for perhaps the first time since that starved Pilgrim winter at Plymouth—America ate more food than it grew” — turned me from activism to skepticism and inaction.

Perhaps I wasn’t the only one to react this way, because one scare hasn’t been enough for the unnerving Mr. M. He has been banging his gong of gloom pretty steadily for 20-odd years and more than a dozen books, and he was back in the spotlight again this fall with another shocker, the unsettlingly titled Eaarth. I didn’t have the stomach to read it. (You can find out more about McKibben, his books, and his prophecies at his Web site here. Enter at your own risk.)

But re-confronting his Morrisonian concept of “the end” did inspire me to wonder about the affect that the natural world has had on my life, in big and little ways. For instance, if I just take the time to notice its existence — some days literally forcing myself to stop and smell the roses (or dahlias or cherry blossoms, etc.) or to pause and photograph a maple tree in full autumnal luster — I realize how unpleasant life would be without the cosmos. Oh, and unlivable, of course.

Luckily, nature didn’t quite end, not in the ways McKibben predicted, not yet. In fact, it’s fairly thriving, at least in my little corner of Earth (just one “a,” thanks), and in the minds of many of the writers I read these days, especially (though not surprisingly) the poets. Several of my favorite books of the past year offered a unique perspective on “the way we relate to nature,” and vice-versa. If nothing else, they remind us that the natural world has an important role in our lives: as a renewable source of inspiration.

As part of Scribbleskiff’s “year-end wrap-up for holiday wrapping” series, here is an overview of five of our favorite books of poetry published in 2010. Enjoy!

In Search of Small Gods, Jim Harrison (Copper Canyon Press). Not only is this my favorite book of the year, but it is one of the best books I’ve read in a long time, poetry or otherwise. High praise or hyperbole? Yes. Harrison, who is perhaps best known as a novelist — he wrote Legends of the Fall and Julip– also is an accomplished and highly readable poet. His writing style is unadorned and straightforward, as are his sensibilities: “What could it be, this astonishment / … to finally understand that the purpose / of earth is earth?” And so is his sense of humor:

If a peregrine sees fifty times better
than we, what do we look like to them?
Unanswerable.

To Harrison, nature and the natural objects that comprise it (the “small gods” in the book’s title) aren’t something to fear or protect. Nature is simply a part of everyday living, important and necessary, but intangible and fleeting, like “the fluttering unknown gods that I nearly see / from the left corner of my blind eye, struggling / to stay alive in a world that grinds them underfoot.” Sure, rivers, mountains, and animals — including lots of birds, dogs, deer, even the “lowly stinkbug” he accidentally crushed with the garden gate — play a significant, even spiritual role in his life. But he knows that these are not harbingers or a hypostasis. After all, he states, “nature only leads us to herself.”

What makes In Search of Small Gods such a natural fit for me is the craftsmanship of the language that fills every page. Harrison’s talent is translating the transcendent into earth-bound, yet elegant statements, infused with warmth and wit, from the seemingly pointless (“my heart must open to the cosmos with no language”) to the poignant:

in Montana you can throw yourself down just about anywhere on a green grassy bed, snooze on the riverbank and wake to a yellow-rumped warbler flittering close to your head then sipping a little standing water from a moose track. … [But] first look for hidden rocks. Nothing in nature is exactly suited to us.

Everything about Jim Harrison’s 12th book of poems suits me. And the same holds true with some other 2010 books that I encountered this year:

The Forest of Sure Things, Megan Snyder-Camp (Tupelo Press). With such a confident tone and heartfelt honesty, it’s hard to believe this compact volume is a debut. The Forest of Sure Things offers an eerie, mesmerizing sequence of poems, split between imagined (or “borrowed”) memories of a real-life family tragedy and the poet’s reactions to it, that left me feeling both at home in this seascape where “shipwrecks build houses” and crate-loads of oranges “bob along the coast like subtitles” — and uneasy: “In this land the children tear their hearts in half.”

Bird Lovers, Backyard, Thalia Field (New Directions). It’s difficult to call Field’s new book “poetry” because, traditionally speaking, there are few discernible lines of verse here. Nonetheless, her experimental, genre-blending “stories,” which offer a stylistically daring exploration of our natural (and un-natural) world, are ripe with lyricism: “Until their power over the cities becomes too great, we think the pigeons will be able to continue. Then we think thinking will no longer help them.” This book is an aphrodisiac for word (and nature) lovers.

Child of Nature, Lujeta Lleshanaku (New Directions). Lleshanaku’s stark poems, translated from the Albanian by Henry Israeli and Shpresa Qatipi, plumb the lives of people living in a changed landscape where “spring kills solitude with its solitude.” These are haunting portraits, with their intensity often sparking at the intersection of human nature and nature itself. Here, a widow’s breasts droop “like flowers,” while “soft rain falls like apostrophes / in a conversation between two worlds,” and “praying was considered a weakness/ like making love.”

On Speaking Terms, Connie Wanek (Copper Canyon). Commonplace moments form the outstanding features of the landscape Wanek explores in this third book of poems. The speaker of one poem, for instance, writes a word on “the delicate paper [torn] from a garlic clove,” the result of “a whimsy / that came out of my pores.” In “Scrabble,” the poet admits that a lack of gamesmanship is “the story of my life, / rearranging assets and coming up shor.” Such word-playfulness is refreshing and inspirational, especially during these super-serious times, and feels hopeful, the way each puff of breath on a cold day, she says, might form “a little cloud capable of a single snowflake.”

So there you have it, five new books from this past year that should appeal to the natural instincts of the book-lovers on your list.

As always, tell us what you think. Have you read any of these new releases? Are there others that you think everyone should try? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

If you live life according to Gregory’s calendar, as we do in our little corner of the world, then you’ve likely noticed by now that we’ve reached December, the final (and, at this moment, coldest) month of the year.

As such, December ushers in a season of conclusions, a time for tallying, wrapping-up, and tying-off. Most of us spend these last few weeks tidying for tax filing (and feeling taxed), for instance, compiling lists of accomplishments and comparing them to (the much longer) to-do lists, cleaning out cluttered closets and organizing kitchen drawers, and so on. It’s also a time for reflection and introspection, for looking back on all that’s come before you in the 330-odd days already passed, remembering the good times (while revising your memories of the bad), and wondering if you’re ready for what’s coming next. And, for those of us who are filed under the world’s major religious categories, December has become an excuse for wrapping-up and giving gifts.

New Wave beach party music.

So, for the next 2-3 weeks, we at Scribbleskiff will be trying to accomplish all of the above tasks, taking stock of and drawing conclusions about our favorite attainments from this past year — the books read, beers tasted, bands discovered — posting brief reviews and/or some rumination, in the attempt to distract you with useless information (as you’ve come to expect) and to offer some ideas for items to give your loved ones and friends (I know it sounds better to write that phrase the other way round, but it’s never made sense to me to do so). Let’s call it our year-end wrap-up rapping for holiday wrapping series.

Some of this you may have encountered before, whether here or elsewhere, but we suspect most of it you may not have heard about at all. In either case, we’ll be posting as often as we can, so keep checking back. Enjoy!

First up is a little dose of nouveau-nostalgia, because nowadays, it seems, if you want to find out what’s happening around you, just look to yesterday. It’s the new today.

In fact, so much of what’s making headlines right now is, for all intents and purposes, old news. Everything, from bank failures (remember the S&L crisis?) and rising unemployment (get in line again, brother), to natural disasters (like good ol’ what’s-her-name), global conflicts (same desert, different decade), and public celebrity meltdowns (this is one of our faves), everything has been — yawn! — done before.

Even among the ephemera of pop culture, what’s new and hip right now often turns out to be old-fashioned. Take the resurgence in cocktails, for instance. Some of the hottest drinks for fall, according to an article in Esquire, involve some of the oldest and simplest of ingredients: rye, sweet vermouth, and bitters. Of course, no one makes Old Fashioneds the way “dear old Dad used to.”

Not there’s anything wrong with it, as they said on Seinfeld. Quite the contrary, actually. I often like it when we repeat the past, on purpose. A lot of what went on before was good and bears repeating. And, yes, things were simpler back then. I suppose that’s true because we were younger (and, in some cases, youngsters), and people were doing things for us, taking care of us and the stuff that needed taking care of. I miss that. I’m not always fond of being responsible and having to be in charge. Sometimes, I don’t want to be a pirate.

Two new records by relatively young bands have recently caught my attention and wound up on continuous repeat, simply because they sound like — and, let’s be honest, make me wish for — the way things were.

(If you are reading this via email or Facebook and do not see the flash music players below each song, click here to listen in full on the blog site.)

The Drums, The Drums. Island Records. I’m a sucker for the incongruity of a debut that sounds dated, that evokes an “I’ve-heard-it-all-before-but-never-like-this” feeling. But I wonder if it was ever quite like this. Imagine if Brian Wilson and New Order had a baby. That spawn would be called The Drums, a band from Brooklyn whose sound is both sunny and goofy, hip and nerdy, techno and swinging. An undeniable ’80s odor permeates the disc — from the opening cut, “Best Friend,” with its danceable, collar-turned-up INXS swagger that would be at home on any John Hughes soundtrack, to the last track — and it smells like an old-time beach party. The Furs are here, along with The Cars, Yazoo, and A Flock of Seagulls (and their cresting hairdos). And so are Dick Dale, the Surfaris, The Ventures, and other beachcombers. The first single, “Let’s Go Surfing,” with its Devo-meets-Jan-and-Dean quality, is the strongest cut and it nearly overshadows the others. But, like the bravest big-wave rider, it’s so outstanding that the others follow along, holding their own in its wake.

Listen to “Let’s Go Surfing” (mp3)

A heavy metal time machine?

Phosphene Dream, The Black Angels, Blue Horizon. If The Drums is a throwback, then this record is a catapult. A one-way trip in Doc Brown’s heavy-metal time machine. In other words, the future is all in the past for The Black Angels, who have been digging their 1960s psych-pop roots for a few LPs and now have finally hit peyote dirt. From the song titles (like “Yellow Elevator #2” and “Bad Vibrations”) to the spacey album art, everything on Phosphene Dream says, “we’re not in the 21st century anymore.” But this is not mood music for a wax museum. No, these folks have done their homework (and their share of psychotropic drugs, too) to create a set of original, lively songs that feels both “of an era” and of any era. They take handfuls of The Zombies, early Pink Floyd, Iron Butterfly, and The Doors, down them with some bluesy vibes from The Yardbirds and Led Zeppelin, and create dark, moody, lyrical, raucous rock music that’s as full of drama as it is fun to dance to. Amid the halting, reverb-swallowing vocals, haunting Hammond runs, crashing cymbals, and droning guitars beats the heart of a straight-ahead garage band. Watch this clip and tell me if you think I’m dreaming.

Listen to “Bad Vibrations” (mp3)

So there you have it, two new CDs from this past year to box up and bestow upon a rocking loved one. As always, tell us what you think. Have you heard the new LPs by The Drums or The Black Angels? Are there any other new seasonal offerings that you think everyone should try? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

This week’s posting on Scribbleskiff is part treat, part trick. It’s our way of honoring Halloween and, at the same time, shirking our responsibilities. Typical? Exactly!

Boo-ya! Or boo-hoo?

Well, for several reasons, we just can’t be aimless and informative right now, but we didn’t want to let one of our favorite holidays slip by without some sort of nod. So we are handing out a few novelties, including some seasonal songs, spirited books, and sinister beverages, and offering a little tomfoolery, too — namely, a repeat of some popular past postings. If you’ve never read any of the following words before, then this entry will be sweet music to your eyes and ears. If, on the other hand, you feel like you have previously encountered some of these specters, well, then, boo!

Treats: For starters, we recently uploaded a new Halloween-themed playlist at 8tracks.com. All 18 songs, by everyone from The Acorn to Wolf Parade, have some type of seasonal tie-in to put you in an All-Souls-Day state of mind. And all were released in 2010. Click here to hear them.

Trick: We recently invoked the magic in the relatively new search function on this site (floating in the upper right-hand corner). We typed in “Halloween” and, surprise-surprise, more than a dozen entries appeared that either featured or were related to this most un-hallowed holiday. One of our top picks was this one (click here to read it), which involved the search for an adult-strength beverage appropriate for sipping while handing out (and sneaking) Halloween candy.

Treat: Sometimes, reading a good book can be a spiritual experience — especially if said book is about alcoholic beverages. Such is the case with Beer Is Proof That God Loves Us, a frothy and refreshing look at “the soul of beer and brewing.” Author Charles W. Bamforth, a British ex-pat and a 32-year brewing industry veteran, offers a personal look at everything from the rebirth in a “beer ethos” to the reasons why a few simple ingredients (water, grains, hops, and yeast) are simply divine. Buy your copy of it here.

Trick: Here’s another of our favorite reruns (here, actually), in which we once again enjoy being visited by a palpable, menacing specter that haunts (and, in so many ways, delights) us all.

Treats: And speaking of spiritual (and spirited) visitations, lately our inbox has been a virtual medium for a slew of seasonal cocktail recipes that we are just dying to try. Here are a few:

Corpse Reviver
2 oz Kanon Organic Vodka
¾ oz Fresh Lemon Juice
¾ oz Orange Curacao (or Triple Sec)
¼ oz Absinthe (or any Pastis)

Combine all ingredients in a mixing glass, add a few ice cubes, and shake.  Strain the mixture into a Martini glass.

Fake Blood
1 1/2 oz. Riazul Silver Tequila
1 oz. cranberry juice
Lime wedge
1/2 oz. simple sugar
1 splash ginger ale

Combine tequila, cranberry juice, squeezed lime juice, and simple sugar with ice. Shake and strain into a chilled glass. Fill with a splash of ginger ale.

Jack-o’-Lantern Punch
2 oz. Flor de Caña rum
4 Sugar cubes
3 oz. Club soda
1 oz. Lemon juice
1 ½  oz. Pumpkin puree
Dash of allspice

Muddle four sugar cubes with lemon juice. Add Flor de Caña rum, pumpkin puree, and a dash of all spice and a cinnamon stick. Top with club soda. Garnish with an apple slice.

Trick: We’ve saved the best (and bloatedest) Scribbleskiff replay for last. In it (click here to read it) we offer a half-dozen recommendations that, though they may not help explain why we celebrate this ancientest of holidays, they should make Halloween more spirited if you do.

But don’t let these lazy bones scare you away. We’ll be back soon with new postings that feature the same aimless nothingness that you’ve come to expect (and, we hope, enjoy) at Scribbleskiff. In the meantime, tell us what you think. How do you celebrate Halloween? Are there any other new seasonal offererings that you think everyone should try? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.

Whether or not you would say boo to a beer, the fact of the matter is, in about two weeks, someone is going to say “boo!” to you. That’s right, Halloween is right around the corner again, and that can only mean one thing, at least in my house — it’s time to find a spook-tacular adult-strength beverage to go with all the candy corn, M&Ms, Milk Duds, and other sweets piling up by the bagful.

Pumpkin ale: the bonbon of beers

That’s part of the reason we at Scribbleskiff have been wearing our beer goggles for the past five days: to focus on some unique new brews for your consideration and consumption. The other reason, of course (and as mentioned previously here), is that we have been having fun celebrating the second “Baltimore Beer Week,” which officially ends this weekend, by offering one brief review of a new varietal each day. Selections have been based on the long list of breweries supporting the 11-day Bawlmer benefit (see who the sponsors are here), or intended to be something you might find at a bar or a store near you. As always, we’ve been choosing something unique or unusual, and providing some suggestions for pairing our picks with food for your enhanced pleasure. Following is the final (and seasonally appropriate) installment of this series. Enjoy!

• The Great’er Pumpkin, Clipper City Brewing Company. As part of their Heavy Seas line, which features “big flavor extrAARGHdinary brews,” as the label says, this Imperial pumpkin ale epitomizes the notion of greatness. Not only is it brewed with an extra helping of that eponymous gourd and lots of spices, it’s been aged in bourbon barrels. The result is the liquid equivalent of a deep-dish pumpkin pie, with a sweet candy coating, lots of bubbles, and a strong alcohol content (9%). But don’t let that description scare you: it’s delicious, and balanced, with the right mix of familiar autumnal spices — nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves — along with hints of vanilla and caramel, and a noticeable trace of whiskey warmth. In other words, it’s just like their other (albeit low-test) seasonal, The Great Pumpkin, only greater (though not as great as this pumpkin). I enjoyed a bottle of The Great’er Pumpkin as an accompaniment to an array of post-dinner snacks, including creamy, aged goat cheese and gooey gorgonzola on wheat crackers, and honeyed almonds. But it was simply howl-worthy with a couple of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

As always, tell us what you think. Did you attend any Baltimore Beer Week events? Have you enjoyed the week-long coverage here at Scribbleskiff? Are there other new beers, or beer and food pairings, that you think everyone should try? Let us know by leaving a comment below.

And be sure to visit (and join) the Scribbleskiff page on Facebook (find it here), where you can partake in wall-to-wall conversations, find additional information and suggestions from readers, and more.