Songs that make your heart sing: Double whammy edition

I'm bringing you two songs today because I'm feeling generous.

First up, Laura Izibor with ''From my heart to yours." Laura's awesome! She definitely has her own sound, but if I had to describe it I would say Jill Scott meets Alicia Keys meets John Legend by way of Otis Redding a dash of Stevie Wonder. Aka awesomeness. Not everyone knows about my weakness for soul music and good R+B, but I'm confessing it now. Well, perhaps confessing is the wrong word. I am proudly declaring it!

I first heard this song on a Syracuse radio station I don't normally listen to when my Zune died at the gym. I've listened to it a dozen times since then, and it sounds to me like the a perfect, upbeat song to play while the days get longer and the temperature gets warmer.



Second, I'm still not over the elation I felt at the Ra Ra Riot show this weekend. If you've ever heard them live, you know what I mean. Definitely one band whose live performances far exceed any studio recording. Here's the video for ''Can you tell." Anyone want to go drum on doors with me? It looks fun.

A homeless wanderer lands in Syracuse

Fergie pees her pants on stage. She is a former meth addict. A stranger once offered her a muffin when Fergie was wandering among bushes on the side of a street. The muffin-bearer thought she was homeless. Most of her lyrics are so idiotic and incomprehensible that they send listeners into a) a blind rage or b) a state of delirium. I still don't really know what a "London Bridge" is, and frankly, I hope I never find out.

On Tuesday, Fergie will be coming to Syracuse.

Her appearance has been met with a great deal of bitterness and misplaced anger on campus. Naysayers are complaining that they don't ever listen to Fergie; they don't like her; and why couldn't University Union--the student organization that books acts for our big annual spring concert-- have found someone better?

I am here to say: define better. Whether you like it or not, Fergie is a big name who has had great success. Her songs are on the radio, oh, CONSTANTLY. And you would be a bold-faced liar if you said you've never danced inappropriately to a Fergie song in a grungy basement in the wee hours of a weekend morning.

Better yet, the day of Fergie's concert coincides with SU's Mayfest (held in April) celebration. By definition, Mayfest is day when faculty and students stop classes to celebrate academic accomplishments and present their work.

But in reality, Mayfest is a day when students celebrate the fact that after six long months, the sun has finally returned to Syracuse. Most students spend the day at outdoor parties, playing games and living up the last few weeks before everyone packs up for the summer. When the University offered up some of its own money to bring Fergie to campus, in my view, the administration was asking us to bask in the glow of our youth and its ridiculous pop culture, and revel drunkenly in the confusing lyrics and mystifying sounds of Stacy Ann Ferguson.

Ashley and I will be pulling out all of the stops this Mayfest. We definitely deserve it after this particularly grueling semester. Keep your eyes peeled later this week for a rundown of Tuesday's drunkfest Mayfest. It will surely be glamourous.

Postponed until further notice

Let me offer you a piece of advice. If I ever invite you to a concert, say no. I have this awful luck which causes half the acts I have tickets to see suddenly cancel or postpone. It makes me think I shouldn't dare to see anybody who may have health problems because my ticket purchase could immediately make their conditions worse.

For example, I won't go see Melissa Etheridge. I might make her breast cancer come back. And as God as my witness, Tony Bennett is an absolute no-no because I would hate to be the reason that old man dropped dead. He has such a lovely spirit.

It all began in seventh grade. A group of my friends and one of their mom's all piled in a minivan to go see Christina Aguilera and Destiny's Child at the Tweeter Center in Mansfield, MA. Okay, forgive me, I was twelve and rather proud to know all the words to "Bugaboo."

We got there, settled down on the lawn seats, eagerly anticipating the horrendous cacophony of pop music that was about to fill our ears. "Sorry, but I don't think so," said an announcement over the loudspeakers. Ms. Aguilera had laryngitis, or some other condition that she clearly knew about much before that moment. We packed up our things, sang that horrible Nelly song, "Ride with Me," much to the horror of my friend's mother, and headed to Wal-Mart, because that was the only thing we could think to do. Oh, suburban childhood.

Fast forward a couple of years. Freshman year, Casey and I were set to go see Elton John and Billy Joel in their outrageously popular Face to Face Tour. And boy, were we excited. I had been listening non-stop to Elton John for months, and Billy too. Yes, it was somewhat unusual taste for our particular age group, but we both adored Elton and Billy. On the Saturday of the concert, at around two o'clock in the afternoon, I was showering in preparation for the event. You know, I wanted to impress the respectively gay and creepy 60-something-year-old men. Or at least, prevent them from smelling me from the third balcony.

"I don't think so," said a radio announcer on WBOS. Billy Joel was sick with something like laryngitis or some other illness that he CLEARLY could have been reported more than 5 hours before the concert. I called Casey. She thought I was kidding. Devastation and bitter anger set in. I sat outside in the rain for several hours until my mother returned home and I whined endlessly to her. In fact, I think during my sulking in the rain, I cried. So bitter was my disappointment. The good news is we did get to see Elton and Billy, but not after yet another postponement. We were originially supposed to see them in February. Not until September 20 did they get around to gracing us with their presence in the Fleet Center.

Now, this summer, my roommate Calyn and I were set to see the one and only Kelly Clarkson in Albany. The Kelly that we love. The Kelly that sings with a deep-seeded anger and bitterness that only the best of pop stars can muster. The Kelly that we drunkenly sang and screamed along with more times than I am readily willing to admit. Well guess what? Apparently Calyn and I were the only ones that bought tickets to Kelly's summer tour. Ticket sales were abysmal, and Kelly's record company didn't like the CD. TOUR CANCELLED. Kelly Clarkson, please don't take this personally, but WHAT THE HECK? But we can't really be mad at Kelly. It isn't her fault. I think Calyn said it best. "If I ever saw Kelly, you know, I think I would slap her and then say I'm sorry and give her a big hug." I feel the same. It's us and Kelly against the world.

Now, today, I was supposed to go see Hootie and the Blowfish in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire. I know what you're thinking. Who the hell goes to see Hootie and the Blowfish? Well, me and Miss Cassidy Morgan do. We make a point of going to random events and places just because it's funny or strange. We were all geared up for the event. We planned a beach day, a breakfast at Ihop; the day couldn't be more lovely.

Last night, Cassidy IMed me. "I have some bad news," she said. Oh dear God. Darius Rucker, better known as Hootie, has a staph infection. He has been dealing with it for a long time now, undergoing three recent surgeries to rid himself of the infection. YET AGAIN, something the band probably knew would be an issue much before the night of the concert. Good Lord. Do I need to define the word "forethought" for these people.

I rest my case. I have been to a few concerts. But nearly half of them have been cancelled or postponted. It is likely that I will be unable to see Hootie, because the rescheduled dates will probably fall after I return to Syracuse on August 20. And all ever I really wanted was to scream the lyrics to ''Hold my Hand" and hit on a bunch of 30-something men trying to relive their days as frat brothers in the mid-90s.

So, you know. If there is anyone you want dead or sick, let me know. I'll buy tickets for their next gig.