Howdy.

I’m Sue and I popped it purely for about 2 years, from may 2004 until august 2006. I had just graduated from UVM and, go figure, wanted nothing to do with a profession that directly related to my degree in art education. Instead of trying to deter young children from eating paste or sticking crayons up their noses, I decided to earn my money by selling indy kids the latest pitchfork recommendation, hocking coldplay albums to soccermoms and getting overly excited upon the discovery of a nicely-saturated sharpie in the artists’ card’s art box.

A normal day consisted of working at PP, band practice, walking a quasi-retarded beagle around town and consuming grilled meat products flipped to perfection by one Michael Crandall.

My days of working at pure pop have been the highlight of my occupational history thus far, and if it weren’t for my undiagnosed case of extreme wanderlust I would most surely be a lifer behind that stickered counter. Like most everyone that works or has worked there, my musical knowledge and tastes became enhanced and refined thanks to the Pop. It was an exciting time for me. A normal day consisted of working at PP, band practice, walking a quasi-retarded beagle around town and consuming grilled meat products flipped to perfection by one Michael Crandall.

During those 2 years I may have lost half of my hearing and spend 2/5ths of my net income on vinyl special orders, but I also met some of the most interesting and musically knowledgeable people I know.

I left Burlington 3 years ago for Berlin, Germany with the hopes of becoming a go-for at Morr Music or the coffee girl at Monika Enterprises. Unfortunately all I got was a waitressing gig at an American Restaurant and a job teaching art to spoiled German children. Oh, sweet irony. My time in Berlin has been ‘wunderbar’, but this summer I left the Haupstadt and its neon clad minimal techno kids behind for greener pastures, literally. I have been travelling throughout Europe by bike for the past three months and am currently working on an organic farm outside Warsaw, Poland. Perhaps my 6 years of secondhand patchouli smoke inhalation is to blame.

So here are the ways being a music geek has helped me have fun so far on the trip:

Denmark: I pedaled into Kalvehaven, Denmark and found myself stopped outside a rawkus sailor bar. It wasn’t even dinner time and the place was packed with people singing and bells a-ringing. My kind of place. I found a hostel and quickly went back in hopes of joining the party. They had a jukebox and the dude next to me put on the Kinks.
I told him I liked his picks. He thought I said I liked his pigs. Hilarity ensued.

Norway: I once asked Chris Miller to explain to me the difference between black and death metal. He used the term ‘Cookie Monster’ somewhere in the explanation, but I can’t for the life of me remember in what context. Anyway, while in Oslo i got hit on by a drummer who was going on tour with Dimmu Borgir. When I said I knew of the band I think he peed himself a little. Aren’t they filed right next to Cattle Decapitation?

“I learned the Finns like to take modern radio hits and have bands rerecord them with Finnish lyrics and polka beats.”

Sweden: Sure, I know you are all thinking I would throw out a Knife or Jose Gonzalez reference, but come on now. I’s got more than that in Scandi-rock bag of tricks. I was staying in Ostersund with a cute couple of Swedes who enjoyed the skull motif and skateboarding, respectively. Our mutual respect for The Hellacopters gained me an in. Then I faceplanted on the halfpipe. One outta two ain’t bad.

Finland: I learned the Finns like to take modern radio hits and have bands rerecord them with Finnish lyrics and polka beats. You wouldn’t think it, but a polkafied ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit‘ gets any house party cranking.

Estonia: In Estonia I spent a couple of days putzing around Tallinn with a really cool French guy who had similar musical tastes. Hearing a Frenchman call Air ‘pretentious’ was worth the money I spent on the bike alone.

“I have noticed a hiphop flavored theme to my goat monikers. There is Goatface Killah, who is part of the Ewe Tang Clan.”

Latvia: On paper the Baltic States are a dream to cycle through. Flat as a pancake, they were a much needed break from northern Scandanavia’s 9% grade mountains. Unfortunately I was faced with a constant stream of nasty headwinds throughout much of my Baltic ride, making me feel like I was at a spinning class conducted by el Diablo himself. My future ex-boyfriend slash beardo extraordinare Bon Iver might just have saved my life.

Lithuania: Dude, man…Didn’t, like, Jerry and the boys fund your 1994 Olympic Basketball Team? (Cue bongwater gurgle.)

Poland: While working on a farm one does a lot of talking to themselves. At least I do. One of my duties is to walk and feed the goats. I call these adventures Goat Promenades, because it sounds fancier and I reckon the goats prefer a promenade to a measley walk or stroll. These are also argueably my most inspired moments; particularly when it comes to goat nicknames. I have noticed a hiphop flavored theme to my goat monikers. There is Goatface Killah, who is part of the Ewe Tang Clan. Lyrics by such artists include ‘Cud Rules Everything Around Me. C.R.E.A.M.’ and the equally caprine ‘I don’t know whatchamothafucking G.O.A.T.’ heard about me…that I’m a Hey, if they can be an inspiration to John Darnielle they can for me to, right?

Ok, it’s back to making cheese and shoveling ruminant poo. Bye bye.