I can't stop watching the music video for Beyoncé's new tune "Single Ladies":

I've watched it about 50 times and could watch it 50 more times. Some of the hidden power of Beyonce's video is revealed when compared to Grace Jone's recently released video for the tune "Corporate Cannibal," a video and song that best expresses the kind of evil at the root of the current collapse of global capitalism.

From the Brooklyn boy who brought you these little chunks of genius, a new song about last night's debate.

It's not as good as having a full video, but it'll have to do.

UPDATE!

Here's the video:

Our new morning pastime—fretting about John in the Morning's mental health based on his KEXP playlist—continues on Line Out.

Today's playlist includes "Panic" by the Smiths—"hang the DJ, hang the DJ"—followed by songs about depression, suicide, and sleeping to escape the horribleness of the world. And then goes on the air to talk about how he can't sleep lately.

From Schmader's post, from two days ago: "I do not believe it’s fair to diagnose DJs through their playlists. But if I did, John might be ready for an intervention, or at least a big hug."

Donald Rosenberg, the Cleveland Plain Dealer classical music critic who has been covering the venerable Cleveland Orchestra for 28 years, has been removed from his beat.

Removing a critic from his beat after 28 years is tantamount to firing him. He's been reassigned to general "arts and entertainment reporter" and the paper is refusing to explain itself, though in Rosenberg's account, he was called into the editor's office and summarily "reassigned" after she accused him of "attacking" the orchestra.

It's true that Rosenberg was deeply critical of the orchestra's current conductor, Franz Welser-Möst.

It's also true that the editor who fired Rosenberg has been at the helm of the paper a single year—and the publisher is on the board of trustees of the orchestra.

Whoa.

Stop, stop, stop.

Just about every critic worth anything has a long list of people lining up at the editor or publisher's door requesting their removal.

In this case, even the orchestra's executive director tells the New York Times: "I’ve never read anything in a Rosenberg review that was nonmusical." He says he didn't ask for Rosenberg's removal.

Probably he didn't have to. When the publisher is on the board of the orchestra, the critic is the one on the outside from the beginning.

I can't describe how wrong this is.

Welser-Möst has received mixed reviews from other critics as well. On tour in Europe, he gets good response. In New York, so-so. But these reviews are from critics who don't have to listen to his work every single week. What is a critic supposed to do when he believes, as Rosenberg told the New York Times, that "this is a case of an extraordinary orchestra with an ordinary conductor"? Be quiet about it? Who's best serving the city, the organization, and the art form then?

Repeated criticisms of the same subject by the same critic can begin to sound shrill. Readers often begin to accuse critics of having ulterior motivations. Critics have to watch out for this—and judging by Rosenberg's writings, he stayed well on the safe side of this dynamic.

But what is a critic to do when he or she disagrees with the artistic philosophy or doubts the abilities of a conductor, or a museum director, or the head of a theater?

The last time I was in a situation not unlike Rosenberg's (before his "reassignment," that is), a colleague who has been in the business far longer than I have pointed out: Editors and publishers don't mind if you write that this concert was boring and that concert was boring. But if you string it together into institutional critique—hey, everything that director does is boring, and wait, that's keeping the institution back—then you, the critic, are seen as "on the attack."

I fear that something like this happened to Don Rosenberg, when he was simply trying to do his job.

At this moment, I'm just glad I don't work for the Plain Dealer. The paper has embarrassed itself and its city.

Brendan commenced the discussion a couple weeks ago on Slog, I revisit it this morning on Line Out.

Lest I seem to be all grouse and no love for today's MacArthur winners, let me heap some heavy affection on New Yorker music writer Alex Ross, who stands up for all the right things in art music (and again) and whose terrific 2007 book, The Rest Is Noise: Listening to the Twentieth Century has its own free audio guide here, on which any music lover of any kind and at any level can lose many, many, many hours.

(Not only all this, but Ross has been incredibly generous: A few years ago he loaded up an iPod for the charity auction Strangercrombie. Somebody is walking around here with a certifiably genius playlist.)

^{Illustration by Kyle T. Webster}

And the award for best ever use of censorship bars goes to this video for "Toe Jam" by The BPA, featuring David Byrne and Dizzee Rascal.

SFW? NSFW? You decide.

UPDATE! It's been brought to my attention that this was already posted by Dean Carlson--way back in July--on Line Out. He even wrote something informative about it, whereas I did not.

Is John in the Morning doing okay? I started drinking my coffee to Nine Inch Nails, and now we're on to Public Enemy, "I Wanna Be Your Dog," and motherfucking "Helter Skelter."

John? Something you want to tell us?

The McCain campaign has used Heart's classic song "Barracuda" without permission—twice—and Nancy Wilson's having none of it.

Thursday afternoon, Heart e-mailed out a statement regarding vice-presidential candidate Sarah "Barracuda" Palin's use of their similarly monikered song at the Republican National Convention: "The Republican campaign did not ask for permission to use the song, nor would they have been granted that permission," it read. "We have asked the Republican campaign publicly not to use our music...."

But after McCain finished his speech accepting the GOP's presidential nomination tonight, Palin joined him on stage, and the song was used again: Heart's "Barracuda" played as balloons fell.... Heart's Nancy Wilson felt compelled to personally respond.... "I feel completely f---ed over." She and sister Ann Wilson then e-mailed the following exclusive statement:

"Sarah Palin's views and values in NO WAY represent us as American women. We ask that our song 'Barracuda' no longer be used to promote her image. The song 'Barracuda' was written in the late 70s as a scathing rant against the soulless, corporate nature of the music business, particularly for women. (The 'barracuda' represented the business.) While Heart did not and would not authorize the use of their song at the RNC, there's irony in Republican strategists' choice to make use of it there."

I used to see Ann Wilson at the QFC on 15th. She owned (still owns?) a house in Interlaken. Although Heart rules the world, I never wanted to bother her, so in line at the checkout stand right behind her once, I hummed "Barracuda" very softly as a tiny tribute. It is a difficult song to hum. She appeared not to notice.

Jerry Reed has died at age 71. A friend of mine finally returned my copy of Jerry Reed's Greatest Hits to me yesterday. This is really sad. I loved to sing "She Got the Goldmine, I Got the Shaft" at karaoke.

Earlier this week, we got an email from someone named Doug/Schatzi, which is, alas, not someone with a slash in their legal name (wouldn't that be marvelous?), but someone named Doug who works at a place called Schatzi Marketing. He wrote:

Hi there, my name is Doug Perkul and I am the former AP at SPIN Magazine. Together with Sundance Award Winner Stefan Nadelman, we created a new literary site called Lit Mob (http://www.litmob.com). Now, before you start to yawn, please note that this is not like what is currently online--the site is more like Pitchfork in that it focuses on books, but also design and musical artists. We would love your thoughts on the site as well as any editorial love that you may be able to share.

Thanks a million! I have attached our press release for your review and am of course available to answer any questions that you may have.

Best,
Doug

Doug Perkul
Publisher & Founder
LIT MOB
doug@litmob.com
http://www.litmob.com
READERS UNITE!

You get a note like this and you feel something. "This is not like what's currently online"? "Readers unite!"? It's heartwarming, no? The language of revolution is a little crazy, but literary culture is Saltine-y and ridiculous and nowhere near commensurate with how great great writing can be, and it's refreshing to hear from one of those valiant few who's with you on this, who likewise believes that something must be done, that reading The Elegant Variation and Maude Newton and Arts & Letters Daily and subscribing to The New Yorker and n+1 and The Believer is not enough, and moreover that literature and music have some things in common, that there's got to be a way to get the average person as excited about books as they are about bands, that more alliances between to two mediums could be forged for... well, marketing reasons, really, horrible as that sounds. Reading could use a marketing update. Writers are rock stars. This at least was the thinking behind The Stranger's reading and dance party with Charles D'Ambrosio and Jonathan Safran Foer at Chop Suey in April 2005, and the one with Zadie Smith and Amos Latteier and the Dead Science at Neumo's in October 2005, and the one with Miranda July and Sarah Rudinoff and "Awesome" at Neumo's in May 2007.

Anyway, then I visited the website to see what a site about books that's "more like Pitchfork" is like, because that sounds pretty great, and started to read it and skipped right past yawning to narcolepsy. I have keyboard shapes on my cheek. The writing on Lit Mob is a lazy pile of unnecessary first-person and book-review cliches ("The protagonist is extremely self-absorbed yet easy to root for"). How can book reviewers who can't write be trusted? There is one page on Lit Mob that's kind of not a bad idea--a page of "what our favorite artists are reading now," where members of Earlimart and Cut Copy and Menomena and other bands recommend titles by dead people you already know about (Phillip K. Dick, Kurt Vonnegut, Charles Bukowski) and not-dead guys too (David Berman, Alex Ross, Keith Gessen, Jeffrey Eugenides). It's a handsome page, but it doesn't make for compelling reading. I reread Doug/Schatzi's email--what's an "AP at Spin magazine"? Apple polisher? Aryan procreator? Awful person?--and wondered why I ever extended any hope in his direction, then visited the website for Schatzi Marketing, just to round out the picture, and, well, here's what came up on the first page:

In case that's too fuzzy for you to read:

Schatzi is a unique marketing firm that specializes in creating compelling campaigns and programs for brands seeking "authentic" interactions with the marketplace.

Doug/Schatzi writes that he is "available to answer any questions that you may have." OK: Is this a joke, Doug/Schatzi? Could it please be a joke? What does "'authentic'" mean? Does that refer to something that seems authentic but isn't? Something that doesn't seem authentic but is? Something that doesn't seem authentic and isn't? It's compelling, that grammar there. It's packed like a poem.

Do not watch this. Unlike you'd like to enjoy your morning.

(Thanks, Melissa!)

On the eleventh day of this month, around the sixth hour of the afternoon, somewhere near thirteenth and John, a new pleasure seizes my body. The pleasure is triggered by a sudden break in Jaylib's track "The Red," which is playing on my little music machine. Thirty seconds after the track's first minute, the beat breaks down and there's a split second of silence/emptiness. In that split second, the ghost of a beat appears. It is the phantom of the track. The phantom vanishes the moment the banging beat resumes. Realizing I've just heard the ghost of a beat--the sonic equivalent of a pretty face faintly reflected on a winter window--my throat expresses my pleasure with this sound: "uuuuummmmmm."

A moment later, I notice someone is looking up at me. I look down at this person who is looking up at me. I see it is a young woman in booty shorts. Her back is turned to me. She is rising from her knees. I'm not sure if she was gardening or looking for something on the ground. I do, however, know what she's thinking at that very moment: My expression of pleasure (my “uuuuummmmmm”) was triggered by the sight of her ass in short shorts. She gives me the look of accusation. I've done something bad. It's totally rude and unacceptable. Because I do not feel like challenging and correcting her hard reading of the situation, and because men should not look spineless in moments like this, I proudly plead guilty and give her this smile: "Yes, I enjoyed the sight of your ass. It's the blessing of the cosmos. Thank you, thank you, and have a good evening."

Anyway, the incident recalled an old rap lyric:

the man- Can I get up all up in it?
the woman- Boy, you nasty.
the man- Girl, I'm talking about the track, now where you at?

This morning at 11:30, I was invited to a performance I couldn't attend, but am still thinking about. Good thing there will be more of these public performances: Seattle composer Byron Au Yong has created 64 mini-operas to be performed by four opera singer/water-drummer duos, in fountains, reservoirs, pools, and lakes around Seattle and in in Auburn, Bellevue, Des Moines, Issaquah, Lake Forest Park, Redmond, Renton, Sammamish, Shoreline, and Snoqualmie over the next few weeks.

The series is called Kidnapping Water: Bottled Operas, and more information about the specifics is here.

The idea reminds me of one of the classic works of contemporary Chinese art, from 1996: Song Dong's majestic exercise in futility, the Stamping the water performance, seen documented here.

First Mac, now Hayes!

This has been a hard weekend for brothers.

Question
Honest question: Charles, do you own any other music besides Burial?

Answer
Because all music leads up to Burial, everything (Debussy, "Transfigured Night," Monk, Coltrane, "Enter Evening," King Tubby, the Black Elegance movement, Joy Division, The Bomb Squad) to this one point, the rest of music is nothing but what will become Burial/Bevan.

Note
Tonight, Skream spins at Nectar.

Ladies and gentleman, the Athens Boys Choir...

Thanks to Slog tipper Jacqui.

Read all about it on Line Out.

Where (the fuck) were you?

Or, it's the magic of coincidences...

Details on Lineout.

Randy Newman and Roger "King of the Road" Miller are my favorites for Great American Songwriter. Randy for his savage humor, Roger for his goofy wit.

Some favorite Roger Miller stories. From Wikipedia:

When he was seventeen, he stole a guitar, but turned himself in and chose to join the Army rather than go to jail. He later quipped, "My education was Korea, Clash of '52." Upon leaving the Army, he went to Nashville to work on his music career.

From the Roger Miller box set:

Roger Miller: I was raised in Erick, Oklahoma.
Interviewer: What's that near?
Roger Miller: It's close to extinction.

Ditto:

L.A. Cop: Can I see your license?

Roger Miller: Can I shoot your gun?

Paul Constant just made me a very, very happy man by loaning me his Roger Miller box set, which includes "Reincarnation," a song I heard once in high school and was never able to find again.

I should've just used YouTube:

We'll pass over the slide show—obviously made by one family member for another—in silence. But the song!

This month, Taproot Theater is producing Big River, Roger Miller's musical adaptation of Huck Finn. It's the first Taproot show I've been excited about in a dog's age.

From the IHT:

SEATTLE: Jazz vocalist Ernestine Anderson's U.S. home has been saved from foreclosure — for now. Thanks, in part, to music legend Quincy Jones and contemporary jazz artist Diane Schuur.

More than $43,000 poured in — including donations from Jones and Schuur — after news stories about the Seattle jazz legend's financial woes, said Carmen Gayton, a friend of Anderson's family.

And now please enjoy Ms. Anderson singing a cover of that Buffalo Springfield song, "about the youth rebellion in Los Angeles."

You should enjoy it again.

...over on Out Line, I mean Line Out, The Stranger's festival-obsessed, frozen-Ninja-Turtle consuming blog. Twenty-seven posts in the last two days, including from the likes of Bethany Jean Clement (on the beer), Ari Spool (on the fashions), Brendan Kiley (who stood there as an old man said to him, “I work at Coachella every year, but fuck Coachella, this place is beautiful. And I’m drunk.”), Eric Grandy (with an REM confession), Megan Seling (on the yucks), Kelly O (videos are coming), and yours truly (total number of frozen Ninja Turtles I consumed: 4; tastiest part: eyeballs).

Also covered: the Breeders ("Holy fucking shit!"); Isaac Brock’s banter (“Mumblemumblemumble had a shirt I was gonna wear mumblemumblemumble bullshit mumblemumble bullshit!”); Stephen Malkmus's banter (“I heard that yesterday it was raining sideways…crooked, crooked rain”); Death Cab for Cutie ("Death Cab is a stadium band now"); plus photos of Beirut, M.I.A., and former Stranger music intern Robin Pecknold (have fun in Europe, Fleet Foxes).

What a FUCKING GORGEOUS day, right?

Sorry there's been almost nothing on Slog today, kids. It probably had something to do with how FUCKING GORGEOUS it was. Highlights: riding one's bike down steep, sylvan Interlaken Drive; then across the University Bridge (up in the air, Titanic-like); then (as the bridge slowly lowered) seeing Michael Seiwerath and his daughter on a two-person bike (with orange flag!); then that award-winning ride along Lake Union past Gasworks and past Fremont and past that part just past the Fremont Bridge ("Wait, am I in Europe?"), then a stop at Dutch Bike Co. Seattle in Ballard; then a weird salad and many soda refills at Baja Fresh; then riding along Westlake, in the shade of Queen Anne Hill, and passing the staggering sight of two half-crunched cars on top of each other and attentive, practically weeping police vehicles stretching in both directions; and, of course, a breeze and sunshine the whole way. One was going to write something long and reflective on Slog about Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton and Meet the Press and The O'Reilly Factor, but then one thought to oneself: I can do that tomorrow.

Because, man, what a FUCKING GORGEOUS day.

What: A benefit for the Vera Project.

Who: A puppet show by the always awesome Sgt. Rigsby and His Amazing Silhouettes.

Also, music by Accordion Boy (also known as Nate Mooter of Kay Kay and His Weathered Underground, Strong Killings, and the Lashes).

Where: McLeod Residence.

When: Wednesday April 30 at 7 pm.

What else: Fish and chips. And whiskey.

How much: Suggested donation of $15.

Background: Last year, Sgt. Rigsby offered to donate a private puppet show for our Strangercrombie charity auction. Our own Ari Spool bought the package and, overachiever that she is, decided to double-down on the do-gooding: a puppet show bought for charity, repurposed into a fundraiser.

The result is like a miracle—everything anyone could want (Sgt. Rigsby, Accordion Boy, McLeod, Vera, whiskey) all in one place.

Slog tipper damnqueerfuck sends us this...

And asks...

I dunno if you've seen this, but it seems it was made for Slog. Watch it, and you'll keep singing along. I'd be curious about the accuracy of smelling dick. Does it take practice or is it pretty obvious where a dick has been? Unfortunately I'm unwilling to test it out.

Discuss.

Fleet Foxes at Neumo's

by Blush Photo

Snatched almost whole-cloth from Matt Yglesias: Barack Obama today managed to criticize the ABC debate while also subliminally channeling Jay Z—which must be a campaign first.

Check out Obama at about 2:20.

And now, Jay-Z:

As if the ranks weren't already thin enough, full-time Seattle Times classical music writer Melinda Bargreen sent a mass email to colleagues and friends yesterday announcing her departure from the paper. After 31 years in the job, she took the paper's buyout, which in her words applied to "those who are eligible to leave because their positions are considered expendable (i.e. they would not have to be replaced if they left)." After a period of months, she may continue to freelance, she wrote.

Just after I opened the email (which was forwarded to me), I found this heartbreaking photo essay of the evacuation of American newsrooms by an insider, San Jose Mercury News designer Martin Gee (thanks as always, C-Monster).

These tickets are free. New Year's Eve concert. It's Berlin and 1992, but still.

Renée Fleming, Frederica von Stade, and Kathleen Battle in probably the most affecting and beautiful moment in 20th century opera—the final trio from Strauss's Der Rosenkavalier.

Here I am in Anacortes, finally, and there's no moon. I was sure there'd be a moon. It was full a day or two ago, but tonight is cloudy and the sky is dark. "Why did we come here?" the Microphones are singing on my iPod as I wander around. "Someone made posters, and we called for directions."

I'm here to see Mount Eerie—formerly the Microphones, also known as Phil Elverum—perform at the Department of Safety, a converted fire station in the middle of sleepy downtown Anacortes that can't help but remind me of my old sleepy Eastside suburb and its own all-ages venue, also a decommissioned fire station.

But I'm really here for more convoluted, maybe embarrassing reasons. I'm here because the Microphones' 2001 album, The Glow Pt. 2, is being reissued this April by K Records, and I've been kind of obsessed with the album for the better part of my adult life. I'm here to try to understand where The Glow Pt. 2 comes from. I'm here because the opening lyrics of the album's third song, "The Moon"--"I drove up to the city at night/And found the place where you grew up"--have been stuck in my head for years, and I've decided to take the words as instructions: Anacortes is where Elverum grew up. I'm here because I hoped the moon over Anacortes might sing to me, might reveal some mystery. The moon, however, is not cooperating...

So begins Eric Grandy's fascinating feature this week about the Microphones' Phil Elverum, going to Anacortes to figure out where Elverum's songs come from, the history and importance of K Records (which is re-releasing The Glow Pt. 2 this week), how Khaela Maricich influenced Elverum's work, and the thriving scene in Olympia circa 2000, where Elverum was creating The Glow Pt. 2 while Grandy was in college at Evergreen. Possibly the best sentence in the piece:

I lived in a house, since burned to the ground, where Elverum played a Valentine's Day show during which he poured a bottle of red-colored corn-syrup blood over his head and all over the living-room floor.

The whole thing's here. (Oh, and: Here are three things Grandy forgot to mention.)

It's not just that Spencer Moody sells great things formerly owned by now-dead people, or that he hosts an art gallery on the top floor of his store, The Anne Bonny, but this month he also is hosting free performances lasting 15 minutes or less every night, starting at 6 pm.

So if you're going to be in the neighborhood, here's what's on the schedule this week, according to an email from Mr. Moody (the Anne Bonny is closed on Mondays, by the way):

Wed the 9th: Eric Ostrowski (you may know him from Noggin)

Thu the 10th: Standup from Derek Sheen

Fri the 11th: Performance by Ezra Dickenson

Sat the 12th: Seattle's #1 funny lady Jen Seaman

Sun the 13th: The Portland-based arts journal YETI celebrates the release of YETI #5 with mirth and music and copies of the new issue which is only $11.95. (Okay, this event will last longer than 15 minutes.) YETI #5 is packed-to-the gills: An 80-minute CD with 25 rare tracks and 228 perfect-bound pages plus a gorgeous metallic 4-color cover by Saul Chernick.

This is kind of surreal:

The press release, via Marc Ambinder of the Atlantic Monthly:

I hope this note finds you well. You may have already received the attached invitation from L.E. and Ginny Simmons, but I personally wanted to invite you to a reunion with Mitt Romney and the Romney for President National Leadership Team featuring the Beach Boys on Friday, May 9th in Houston, Texas.

The Governor is looking forward to seeing many of you again at the reunion and we hope that you can join us for this very special event.

In addition to the reunion, Governor Romney will be hosting a breakfast to kickoff his fundraising efforts for Senator John McCain on Saturday, May 10th. The breakfast will begin at 9:00am and I’ll forward the details as soon as they are finalized.

For those wondering, the Beach Boys now consist of 67-year-old Mike Love and a group of backup singers. If you're in Houston on May 9th, this is probably the most productive thing you could be doing.

If you're now as fascinated by Intarweb sensation Tay Zonday as I am, then check this shit out.

From his bio:

I am a singer-songwriter-vocalist. I might do anything. No style is off-limits. No two videos are alike. From Bach to Tupac, Expect the Unexpected!

and, of course

Wow.

Seen enough to eye you
But I've seen to much to try you
It's always weirdness while you
Dig it much too much to fry you
The weirdness flows between us
Anyone can tell to see us
Freak scene just cant believe us
Why cant it just be cool and free us?

Seen enough to eye you
But I've seen to much to try you
Its always weirdness while you

What a mess
Dig it much too much to fry you
The weirdness flows between us
Anyone can tell to see us
Freak scene just cant believe us
Why cant it just be cool and leave us?

Its so fucked I can't believe it
If theres a way I wish we'd see it
How could it work just can't conceive it
Oh what a mess it's just to leave it

Sometimes I don't thrill you
Sometimes I think I'll kill you
Just don't let me fuck up will you
'cause when I need a friend it's still you

What a mess

Tonight's Young Ones concert is also a benefit for Real Change. But Real Change is more than just a paper sold on the street for a buck. From their website, www.realchangenews.org:

The Real Change Homeless Empowerment Project has many faces, a newspaper, an advocacy group, a Homeless Speakers Bureau, and literary workshops. We do a lot, and all of it is working toward building bridges among the poor, homeless and the greater community, while engaging the broader public in fighting for economic justice. By publishing the newspaper and mobilizing the public around poverty issues, Real Change organizes, educates and builds alliances to find community-based solutions to homelessness and poverty. The Real Change is a 501 (c) 3 non-profit organization.

And the Young Ones showcase--tonight at Neumo's, headlined by Arthur & Yu and Dyme Def--is just one way you can help out their important cause. A week from now, Real Change is asking you to do more than donate money or buy a paper.

On Thursday, March 13th, the Real Change Organizing Project and friends will stand with those who struggle to survive in Seattle’s public spaces. Your support is vital. If you have a few hours during the day, we need you. If you can spend the night at City Hall Plaza, we need you. Come stand for human dignity, compassion, and public accountability.

Since last spring, the Mayor’s office has coordinated a campaign of harassment and intimidation against homeless campers. The obvious question has been asked a thousand times: Where are these people supposed to go?

On March 13, concerned citizens have the opportunity to send a clear message to the Mayor and his staff.

Our message is simple: Help, Don’t Harass. End the sweeps of homeless encampments. Work with advocates to provide alternatives. Provide real outreach, sufficient emergency shelter alternatives, and expanded services to those in need.

Visibility teams will stand throughout the downtown with banners, leaflets, and petitions to raise awareness of the City’s actions. Dinner, provided by Operation Sacklunch, will be served at 5:30 pm on City Hall Plaza by leaders of Seattle’s faith community. We will camp overnight on City Hall Plaza to highlight Seattle’s critical need for housing and shelter. There will be a final visibility push before the tents come down on Friday morning.

More information can be found at realchangenews.org/action.html. And you can take the first step in supporting the work Real Change does tonight, by checking out some amazing local talent at Neumo's and Sole Repair for only $5, which will go directly to Real Change.

See you there!