Earlier this week while I was walking home from a night out with friends I was surprised by a stranger who randomly yelled out to me across an intersection, “How do you do this all the time?” I assumed by the question and the incredulous affectation that colored his sho
ut that this fellow had to be the sort of out-of-towner used to strolling casually along level sidewalks, not straining to climb them. Living in San Francisco’s Chinatown for eleven years has provided me with plenty of street-side entertainment in the form of visitors struggling to get from point A to point B and these hapless pedestrians have become common fodder for egregious porchfront commentary among my friends and I, especially the drunk ones falling uphill. I offered the winded tourist no reply, but I began to sing to myself a song that hadn’t invaded my head space for some time, “all we need is just a little patience...”
, I am reminded of two recent, overlooked releases that guild a gentle acoustic sound that is characteristically rock while also spiritually folk: Nagisa Ni Te’s Yosuga and Karl Blau’s Nature's Got A Way.
ut that this fellow had to be the sort of out-of-towner used to strolling casually along level sidewalks, not straining to climb them. Living in San Francisco’s Chinatown for eleven years has provided me with plenty of street-side entertainment in the form of visitors struggling to get from point A to point B and these hapless pedestrians have become common fodder for egregious porchfront commentary among my friends and I, especially the drunk ones falling uphill. I offered the winded tourist no reply, but I began to sing to myself a song that hadn’t invaded my head space for some time, “all we need is just a little patience...”
What W. Axel Rose and his Guns N’ Roses showed the world with their slowest, most patient song, "Patience," was a sensitive vulnerability, unrestrained by the tired power ballad format, that balanced out all the hollyweird, small-man anger their sleazier hits that flaunted to the top of the charts. "Patience" made it to number four in the US and I know for a fact that it continues to enjoy slurred and spirited karaoke renditions the world over, though, as a choice cut, it bodes ill for the novice due to its length and monotony (Kimberly Starling of The Karaoke Informer says it's one of the top 5 songs that tends to bomb: "It just eludes the average ear and when you get off key on this one it sounds to the ear like a turd in a punch bowl looks to the eye.") However, with "Patience" in mind








This is another album that I have been anticipating for so long this year. I just could barely hold in my excitement until today to talk about my little friend
of the world to love Jens as much as I have the last couple of years.
Jens is a little bit Stephin Merritt and a little bit Sufjan Stevens. Sort of like an orchestrated indie rock lounge singer. I just read a review today that said his music was perfect for swingers parties. I really would not go that far. But I could imagine it being played live at maybe some piano bar in Portland or something. But with a full band and backup singers. The first song begins with music very similar to the theme of the Hellraiser movies. However, I know he is sampling someone else on this song. But it really reminds me of the Christopher Young Score of Hellraiser. So it sort of puts me in a weird mood every time I start the album. Jens is really a great songwriter and like Stephin Merritt or the great Paul Lynde, he has great delivery of his lines. The songs are actually fun little love songs with great lyrics like "I would never kiss anyone, who doesn't burn me like the sun." He is telling stories with his songs and albums
but seems to be sort of making fun of himself while he is singing. Like he is telling us by his delivery that he really does not take himself as seriously as he seems to be. He is having fun with himself on these albums. He also sort of reminds me of Neil Hannon from the Divine Comedy.