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Thoughts on culture, politics, music and stuff by Eric Olsen, Marty Thau and Mike Crooker, who are among other things, producers.
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Saturday, August 03, 2002
Grateful? Yes Dead? No I only wish this project well because at least they had the decency to not call themselves "The Grateful Dead." Do you hear that, "The Who", "The Allman Brothers," "Little Feat" and assorted others?
....The crowd was ready and with the band fully agroove, the giant green bowl of Alpine Valley Music Theatre was flush with flailing limbs and thousand-watt smiles. After weeks of tense negotiations between Grateful Dead Productions, Clear Channel Entertainment and local authorities over concerns the concert would be overrun by people who didn't have tickets, 35,000 Deadheads steadily descended into East Troy [Wisc] with little problem. ....Two hours before show time, drummer and original member Mickey Hart was relaxed and predicting big things based on weeks of rehearsals. "Only a few people have heard it, and from what they've told us, it's back," Hart said. "The creature lives. If we play that way tonight, you'll hear the Grateful Dead. We won't call it the Grateful Dead, but it will be better than where we left off, I'll tell you that." Standing in for Garcia on guitar was the slight and unassuming Jimmy Herring, a veteran of tours with the Allman Brothers and Dead-related side projects, whose guitar was eerily evocative of Garcia's but altogether unique. In place of the shimmery, fat curlycues of Garcia was a muscular staccato wah-wah that the rest of the band followed with precision. "He's great," Hart said. "He's a sweetheart. He doesn't play anything like Jerry, and best of all, I don't think he's even a Deadhead." A similar incarnation of the Dead's remnants has played since Garcia's death in August 1995, but never with this much anticipation. Hart and Herring joined original members Bill Kreutzmann, Phil Lesh and Bob Weir for Saturday's show. Pile On the Bunny I'll tell you what, my little bunny friend Bigwig has been fielding a blinding sandstorm of abuse over his novel notion to offer a new home to the Palestinians in the U.S. as a method of resolving the mess in the Holy Land. First, I say nothing ventured, nothing gained; and one of the main points of blogs is to throw ideas out there and stir up the dialogue. Maybe the discussion mutates the idea into something entirely different from the original idea, but nothing would have happened without the original idea. We are probably not going to crate up a substantial portion of the Palestinian population and plop them down in the Grand Canyon, Death Valley, Compton, or Manhattan. Although it might make more sense to move the Palestinians to northern Mexico than to move Israel there, as Ken Layne had suggested some time back. Regardless, Biggy handled his parboiling with good humor and panache and we are very proud of him. Nomenclature Drift I am confused: this site is like a Samuel Beckett play, with people changing their names and nicknames and blog name like feathers in the wind. Weren't they just full of shit? Now they're modeling male bras, which wouldn't be necessary if they'd hit the gym and lay off the THC. And I always appreciate a link, but it's O-L-S-"E"-N, you freakish Swede. Pulp Reality Things just keep getting weirder at Fort Bragg. Maj. David Shannon was shot on July 23 as he slept in the bedroom of his home. His wife Joan was charged with first-degree murder and conspiracy on Tuesday. Now his 15 year-old daughter has been charged in the murder:
“The officer told me to get up,” Eldridge said. “He put me in handcuffs and he yanked me out of the room.” The officer heard a noise come from a folded-out futon in the living room. “They lifted up the couch, saw she was under there, and he placed her in handcuffs,” Eldridge said. Eldridge was not charged with a crime. ....Eldridge said the girl spent most of her time on the couch, watching TV and watching out the window. She never went out. “When somebody knocked on the door, she would jump,” Eldridge said. “She constantly watched the news,” Eldridge said. “They were like her morning cartoons. I just thought she was interested in what was happening in Fayetteville.” Eldridge said the girl paid close attention to TV news about the murder of David Shannon. During one newscast, Eldridge said, Elizabeth pointed to video of Joan Shannon as she was escorted to jail and said, “That’s my mom.” But no one believed her. Perfect, But... Man, it was a perfect summer day in Cleveland today: mid-80s, blazing sun, light air, low humidity. We all went up to Dawn's mother's new condo up near the lake and hung out in and around the pool. Dawn's sister and her two kids were there from Baltimore. Couldn't have been much better until her 3 year-old started throwing up and moaning in a rather alarming manner. Dawn and her sister took the boy to the hospital, and Kristen and I headed home. I assume it's just a flu or something. Kristen has a white Chrysler LaBarron that she loves dearly, and we drove home with the top down, loving the weather and the wind and being together. We stopped for drinks and after about 40 ozs of lemonade for me and horchado for her - and with light sunburns - we felt a bit of a chill. Rather than ruin the mood by closing the top, we just cranked up the heater. I love the decadence of that: the sheer wasteful indulgence of flying down the freeway, air rushing every which way, and hot air blasting on our legs and feet keeping us all cozy. I sure hope Sammy's okay - haven't heard anything from them yet. More later. UPDATE The medical verdict on Sammy: vast gas caused by a stomach virus. The boy needs to fart. Friday, August 02, 2002
Hey, This Is Me
Older Birthdays are in the air, bringing thoughts of the inexorable leak of sand through the hourglass, entropy, the snap of youth replaced by the sag of decrepitude; and of course, the Big Door at the end of the hallway. As someone about to turn 44 in two days, let me tell you, it's all relative: youth truly is a state of mind, although biological youth IS wasted on the young. Let us look at some age issues in approximately chronological order, by birth. Youthful Matt Moore is about 25: when you're that age, the difference between, say, 21 and 25 seems enormous. From my view, it's a small fart in the great methane sea of time. Back in July, Matt wrote:
Of course, DJ Shadow was sold out. There was a time when I didn't have to even think about this stuff, I just seemed to know that Mike Watt was going to be in town in six weeks, and I bought a ticket. Eight bucks: Mike Watt, Pat Smear, Eddie Vedder, Dave Grohl, and I'm sure I'm leaving someone out. But drinking beer in the shadows of the mountains, watching the clouds try to decide, and then getting up to leave just as the rain commenced. All good. Paul Palubicki is a very wise 29: the dude knows shit. He has a measured way of looking at things and a depth of knowledge that led me to believe he is older - probably just ageism on my part. Paul gets called old:
What the fuck do you mean, "Woah"? "How long have you been in?", the little shit asked. "Almost 11 years." "Wooooah." The little fucker's looking at me like I'm supposed to be behind glass at the museum. Staffasaurus Rex I could feel myself fossilizing in my chair. ....I'm getting a lot of shit thrown at me right now, but this just sucker punched me right in the gut. You have to understand that for my entire career, I've been one of the youngest, lowest ranking guys in my shop. ....I come to Travis and it feels like the quaint, stable snowglobe of my world has been snatched by some vicious bastard and given a thorough shaking. ....I'm not used to this sort of shit. I'm used to being around people who know what they're doing, how they're supposed to do it, and the motivation and integrity to do it correctly without constant supervision. Don't get me wrong, most of the airmen strike me as great guys, but today I was made well aware of the invisible wall between us. In just a few short weeks, the tectonic plates of my career have violently shifted, placing me in Old Guy territory just five days shy of my 29th birthday. On the brightside, I did order somebody to go do something for the first time in my life. That felt kinda cool. It also feels good to know that when They come to snag people for some shit detail, they're not going to be looking at me to do it. Being an Old Guy does have its benefits. When I was 29, I was DJing some big dance at a high school. When I came out after the dance to change my clothes and start packing up, I found my mini-truck surrounded by three or four cops. What the hell had happened? Had someone tried to break in? What was up? "Is this your truck, sir?" "Yes." "What are you, about 30?" I kind of recoiled from the accusation - no one had ever called me "about 30" before. It was a blow. "Ah, 29. Is there a problem, officer?" "We saw a six-pack of beer in the back seat and alcohol is illegal on school property." "Oh," I said, relieved. "It's not open or anything. Sorry I didn't know the rule." "Ah, it's okay. Put it where we can't see it next time. A teacher saw it and complained." "Thank you, officers," I said feeling suddenly very "30ish" for the first time. So this was something like that for Paul. It's tough, but I have found if you retain your energy and youthful (open) outlook as you age, you end up with the best of both worlds: zip AND the accumulated authority of experience. I have also found that if someone really pisses you off, they don't expect some 40 year-old guy to punch them in the face, which gives you the advantage of surprise. But that's in another ten years or so for Paul - people still may expect him to punch them. Then Gummi Rebecca encounters 30:
Dawn, who turns 33 in a couple of weeks, responds:
Enjoy your youth my sweaty little gummi, 30 is a wonderful age. On the bright side, I was carded recently at one of those drive thru liquor stores, this was while driving a mini-van with a toddler hurling m&m's at me. So hey, you are as young as you feel, or as old as you look!! Then there is poor Scott, who is having second thoughts about this record reviewing thing:
I'm a picky son-of-a-gun. I like what I like, and I really don't much care for what I don't like. That doesn't mean that what I don't like isn't good music played by good musicians. It just means, bottom line, that I don't like it. It means, bottom line, that it just ain't for me. The flip side is this - something that blows my skirt up over the top of my head doesn't necessarily mean diddly to the next guy in the next cubicle in the next building. I could be stompin' all over the room like a 1915 whirling dervish in Russia, and look up and find that there's not another soul the least bit moved, or moving. Believe me, it has happened to Dork Boy.
And then there's Doc. I'm REAL happy to see Doc starting to ge the kind of recognition he's so due. The techies knew him - now the other guys do too. Doc transcends. Doc is ageless. Doc just turned 55:
I hit the speed limit today: 55. (Although I'm milking 54 to the last minute: around 11am Eastern Time. That's when I appeared at Christ Hospital in Jersey City on this day in 1947. A boom baby.) I hate getting older. It sucks and it makes you caranky. I'm pretty sure I was the oldest guy at OSCon. Most of the other folks there were my kids' ages or younger (my older kids, anyway.. they range from 29 to 32). My youngest kid is 5. That means we'll be able to get the senior and child discounts at some events. It's a blessing I look forward to counting. UPDATE Now this is a proper 30th freaking birthday party!
The Veil Is Lifted Red hot update on the Ft. Bragg murders today in the hometown Fayetteville Observer - reporter Tanya Biank gets behind the veneer of silence:
....some military wives who contacted The Fayetteville Observer said that being in the Army adds to the stress and makes it harder to seek help. The women, many of them wives of Special Forces or special operations soldiers, asked to remain anonymous. They spoke of physical and verbal abuse, infidelity, alcoholism -- and even fear for their lives. ‘‘He threatened me with death, he’d bury me on Fort Bragg and no one would find me,’’ one woman wrote in a letter. ‘‘I believed him. He beat me with his fists, choked me, knocked me out of the door.’’ The woman said she eventually saved enough money to leave the marriage. ‘‘It was worth every dollar to get out,’’ she said. Some women who contacted the newspaper said they were speaking out for the first time, spurred by the deaths of women they say could easily have been them. ....‘‘Many people are trying to say what is happening in Fayetteville is an anomaly,’’ said Christine Hansen, the executive director of the Miles Foundation, an organization that studies domestic violence in the military and offers help to families. ‘‘We’re looking at it more as a symptom of domestic violence in the military.’’ Hansen said her foundation has received ‘‘a serious influx of calls’’ since the Fort Bragg killings. Some have been from abused wives seeking information on shelters and other programs and services. Other calls have been from women who have survived abuse and are now reliving the trauma through the current deaths, Hansen said. ....‘‘The military continues to treat (domestic violence) as a communication problem, a marital issue, a marital problem,’’ said Hansen, the Miles Foundation director. ‘‘This is an issue of deadly force.’’ “These military men are not Jimmy Stewart or John Wayne,’’ Hansen said of abusers. ‘‘Many of them have control issues and when they are deployed can become literally paranoid: ‘What is she doing? Who is she seeing? Is she paying the bills on time?’’’ Several wives who contacted the newspaper said that deployment stresses -- especially infidelity -- can be a significant problem in families. Special operations soldiers are usually deployed for several months each year. Wives of those soldiers said that it is not uncommon for soldiers to cheat on deployments. And some said that is also not unusual for the wives back home to have affairs. “There’s more of it than you can ever shake a stick at,” the wife of a retired Green Beret said. She was talking about cheating by the soldiers and their wives. Some wives said it’s the culture of Special Forces to wink at the infidelity. But, they say, it can lead to violence when it comes to the surface in a marriage. ....‘‘Most of us are afraid to speak out,’’ one woman said. She said she is divorced from a Green Beret who kicked her in the stomach and knocked her off her feet, stomped on her and fractured her leg. He then left for a two-week deployment, she said. ‘‘His team members knew about it,’’ she said. ‘‘Nobody helped me and nobody listened.’’ The woman said she left her husband not long after the beating. For a long time, she said, she worried that he would kill her. He is still in the military, she said. ‘‘I hate to come down on the Army right now, of all times,’’ she said. ‘‘But there is a major problem.’’ Some women interviewed said their husbands do not want to go into counseling because it could adversely affect military careers. And if the husband suffers, the wives can lose benefits and family income. The spouses of Special Forces soldiers said their husbands could be labeled a ‘‘security risk’’ for seeking help. ‘‘It really bothers me that I can’t go talk to the on-post marriage counselor or to the chaplain if I need to,’’ said one Special Forces wife. ‘‘It’s almost like saying, ‘Don’t cry for help, it’s a sign of weakness.’’’ Another wife said it is important in the military to project an image of a perfect home life. ‘‘The motto is if you can’t control your wife, you can’t control your troops,’’ she said. ....But it is families that Sharon Davis is worried about. She was just 6 years old and asleep in bed when her Green Beret father, Rufus Smith, chased her mother, Clara, around the house with a machete one early morning in October 1968. Clara Smith grabbed a rifle and shot her husband dead with a bullet to the chest. ‘‘I remember the lights and getting into the police car,’’ Davis said. Her mother was charged with murder, but a jury ruled the shooting was in self defense. In the years to come, Clara Davis would drink herself to death, her daughter said. She died at age 42. Davis grew up with insults and teasing from other children. Now 40 years old, Davis is a social worker and does independent consulting. She said she wanted to help others, as well as to understand her own parents. She said holds no animosity toward her mother and father. ‘‘If anything, I just feel for them,’’ she said. She thinks about the children who have lost parents in the recent killings. All five of the couples had children. ‘‘Nobody is mentioning the children,’’ she said. ‘‘Once the sensation of it dies down they are forgotten. They are the innocent bystanders in this situation.’’ Blogcritics.com Thanks for the tremendous help in getting the word out, and for your response to the Blogcritics.com concept. I want to emphasize how impressed I am by ALL OF THE TALENT OUT THERE. Ken Layne kicked in some excellent suggestions, which we are going to adopt more or less wholesale. I had a super nice email from Oliver Willis offering technical advice, which I will need more than I'd care to admit. Oliver - who is an author his own bad self - is interested in the literary potential of the concept, as is Matt Welch, and Jeff Goldstein (deepest condolences on the loss of your friend), so I think we are going to incorporate those flappy things made of squished trees from the beginning. I have also made real progress on the other end of this project: I am getting strong interest from my contacts with the labels and indie publicists as well. If you have contacts with indie labels, sub-indie labels, publicists, or LITERARY PUBLICISTS/PUBLISHERS, please let me know and/or have them contact me. So here is our status: we are still aiming for a Blogcritics.com launch of next Friday, but you know how that sort of thing goes. IF YOU ARE ALREADY ON THE ROSTER, PLEASE SUBMIT SOME KIND OF MUSIC/BOOK CRITICISM RELATING TO A FAIRLY NEW RELEASE BY NEXT FRIDAY FOR INCORPORATION INTO THE LAUNCH. Since the response has been so strong and so many people have begged me to reopen the roster, I AM REOPENING THE ROSTER. COME ONE, COME ALL. If you wish to be part of this project, send me an email stating the info asked for HERE, and get me something to post by next Friday, or whenever since we have no deadlines. BUT SINCE THIS IS THE REAL WORLD, YOU MUST CONTRIBUTE TO HAVE ACCESS TO THE GOODIES WHEN THEY COME ROLLING IN. On a side note, I am often surprised to find how I am perceived by people. Several have commended me on being open-minded about all of this, welcoming suggestions and criticism, including my new bud Martin Devon:
BlogCritics.com launches next Friday. Eric, if you can keep it "about the music," you've got me sold. Thursday, August 01, 2002
DaneMail Danish blogger John Fogde has issues with the mail:
Postcards From the Edge David Hogberg has a fascinating photo essay from South Korea (you must register with Yahoo to view) and the DMZ compiled by his brother and his brother's fiancee during their trip to the World Cup:
However, once inside the blue building, you can. The sideways photo is actually from a window inside the blue building from the North Korean side. ....This photo reveals a very interesting little tidbit into the mindset of communists. If you look very closely, you can see some buildings in the distance. (Sorry, but you have to look very closely. My brother was using an Instamatic camera, so the image in the distance is very fuzzy. The little figure rising up is one of the buildings.) It is a city that North Korea built to resemble a modern Western city. The purpose was to show people in the south that things were just as modern in North Korea. Of course, it fools no one. As my brother found out from the tour guide, no one actually lives there. What a sad bit of propaganda. Darkest Before the Dawn Dawn rose over the horizon, Matt came back. Remember Matt, the unexamined life isn't worth living. Musicians In Need Via Glenn: No, we do not want to help these rapacious mothersuckers crush the recording proletariat:
That's what happened to Sam Moore from the famous R&B group Sam & Dave. He had hits with Atlantic Records, which is part of Time Warner, like "Soul Man," "Hold On I'm Coming" and dozens of others. Even though new hits stopped coming, the old ones kept selling. He figured that when he reached retirement, Atlantic would have been paying his pension into his union, which is called AFTRA (American Federation of Television and Radio Artists). When Moore applied for his pension, he was told that he had benefits coming to him. What a relief, he thought. Then he got the bad news. AFTRA was all set to pay him a whopping $67 a month. This is the same AFTRA that now boasts a $1.2 billion surplus. That $67 figure came not from the money Sam thought he was getting from Atlantic, but from radio and television appearances he'd made over the years. It turned out that Atlantic had never paid one dime into his pension fund. Nothing. Nada. BUT, I also know it's much tougher on the artists if they DON'T SELL ANY RECORDS. So this doesn't change my thoughts on FREE CDs for Bloggers one bit. Back to the reamed artist issue - there are a number of foundations and organizations specifically set up to aid musicians in need: The Rhythm and Blues Foundation,
Named in the memory of the Foundation's founding trustees, this program supports the current and specific financial needs of legendary rhythm and blues artists whose contributions have been seminal in the music's development and growth. Since its inception, the Foundation has provided over $500,000 in service and Financial Assistance Grants. Gwendolyn B. Gordy Fuqua Fund This Fund was established in 2000 by Berry Gordy, Founder of Motown Records. It provides emergency financial assistance to living artists in need who performed R&B music of the 60s and 70s under the Motown label.
One of the largest contributions ever made by a music company on behalf of its artists, the Motown/Universal Music Group Fund will be used for health, welfare and medical purposes for artists or their surviving spouses in the form of monetary grants. The grants will be determined and dispensed by a specific committee created by the R&B Foundation. The $2 million will become the “corpus” for the fund, which will generate monies for the needs of artists in perpetuity. ....Added Berry Gordy, Founder of Motown Records, “I am pleased that the Universal Music Group has stepped up with this very generous donation for the welfare of its great artists. Now, more than ever, it is evident that music has the power to heal and bring people together. I commend Universal for recognizing the importance of the R&B Foundation’s great work toward the benefit of artists.” Jim Fifield, Vice Chairman of the R&B Foundation, commented, “I couldn’t be more pleased with the $2 million contribution by the Universal Music Group. They have set a new standard in the industry for giving and recognizing the need for assistance for artists.” Among the classic labels affiliated with the Universal Music Group are A&M Records, ABC Dot, ABC Paramount, Argo, Blue Thumb, Cadet, Casablanca, Checker, Chess, Commodore, Coral, Decca, Def Jam, Def Soul, Duke, Dunhill, Geffen, Gordy, GRP Records, Interscope, Island, MCA, Mercury, Motown, Peacock, Polydor, Rare Earth, RSO, Soul, Tamla, Uni, Universal Records, and Verve, among others. The great jazz writer Nat Hentoff discusses the Jazz Foundation of America here:
It's not only in New York and surrounding cities that there are jazz musicians out of work and out of luck. In the March 5 New York Times, Rick Bragg told of musicians in similar straits in New Orleans: "The outside world-the world of rent checks and health insurance and retirement plans-is for other people, not musicians." New Orleans singer-pianist-songwriter-producer Allen Toussaint added, "It can happen to so many people" - including musicians listed on jazz reissue recordings, who keep clips from old mentions in jazz magazines. Oxenhorn notes that a musician who is on one of the reissue CDs released in connection with Ken Burns' Jazz series "came into our offices and was unable to pay for his $150 diabetes medication." ....Back in New York, Oxenhorn is working on a new project for the Jazz Foundation. "Half of the battles that the JFA fights," she writes, "are eviction-related because many of the elderly musicians live in rent-controlled apartments that landlords could rent for more money." Landlords are trying to evict their tenants at every chance. "Many of the musicians we assist," she continues, "do not make enough to pay their rent or are behind in their rent, because they are not able to play as many gigs as they did when they were younger because illness and ailments slow them down."
Oxenhorn's new project is a Players Residence in New York City. "Housing," she emphasizes, "is not affordable for the aging jazz musician. The musicians that are lucky enough to receive social security, get about $500 a month at most. It's almost impossible to find even a room for rent that is below $600 a month in New York City." The Jazz Foundation is trying to renovate a building that will be a home for elder jazz musicians, with "studio apartments for $250 a month, so that even the most meager income or social security check would pay the rent. This would allow the older jazz musicians to live on the few gigs they get each month. No one in the history of jazz has built a home in honor of the musicians." The Handy Artists Relief Trust was established to provide funding to organizations that help Blues musicians in need. This year’s benefit concert in May supported the Music Maker Relief Foundation of North Carolina. The show featured Willie King, Jerry "Boogie" McCain, Beverly "Guitar" Watkins, Mudcat, Cool John Ferguson, and Robert "Wolfman" Belfour. More Pandering Joanne Jacobs is, as always, keeping the educational bureaucracy honest:
....I suspect O'Connell is trying to score points with animal lovers without actually doing anything. But this sort of meaningless legislation, multiplied hundreds of times, is what's causing textbooks to grow thicker and flabbier each year. Every pet cause is worth a paragraph or two and an illustration.
I think eating animals is fine, although I am less thrilled about killing animals for sport. But that's more of a personal thing than a policy I would defend. I have no objections whatsoever to hunting for food. I am sympathetic to the karmic argument against taking animal life, but I care more about steak, pork roast, chicken, fish, etc. If the Bible says eat them, then eat them I will. I would agree with Hawkins' first point about animals having no rights other than what we give them, but I believe we owe it our Creator and to ourselves to be kind as possible to all living things, even if we decide to kill them and eat them. I remember an old Prairie Home Companion monologue where Keillor told about being present at the slaughter of a farm pig as a child and horsing around just prior to the kill, as children are prone to do. His uncle, or whoever the relative was, sternly reprimanded him that this was a sacred time, a time for seriousness and reflection as another living being was about to give its life for the benefit of ours. That really hit me and I agree with it - we shouldn't take the life of any creature frivolously, or for granted. But I'll tell you what: if some damn creature is bugging me, threatening me, eating my food, or in any way pissing me off, I'll kill it. And it is also dangerous to imply that murderous Islamofascists deserve the same respect as, say, George Washington. They don't. We should be teaching children that it is okay, in fact imperative, that they make moral/cultural/political distinctions. Right Johnny Taliban? Webicide My station was saved from having to pull the plug on its webcasts by some double-secret codicil of the new webcasting regulations - I believe having something to do with the fact that the station is ultimately owned by the Akron Board of Education - but that doesn't change the dire state of radio webcasts in general. Doc Searls has been championing this cause all along. He has a new article in the Linux Journal on the subject called Hollywood Steps Up Its Assault on the Net While Webcasting Death March Claims KPIG, and a post on same in his blog:
That is exactly what is happening to Internet radio, right now, because the entertainment industry successfully lobbied through the Digital Millennium Copyright Act in 1998, and the RIAA successfully steered the copyright arbitration process that followed. The result is a regulatory environment so punitive and toxic that the entire industry it was intended to govern is being eliminated. Completely — at least in the U.S. And it's happening right now. Bill Speaks With Unforked Tongue As usual Bill Quick fucketh around not and suffers fools less so. Regarding a WaPo article on the debate within the administration about Iraq:
If this article is true - and I personally believe it's just a major leak of self-serving propaganda from the Powell camp to one of their mouthpieces at WaPo - then George W. Bush really isn't serious about the War on Terror. If so, I guess the anonymities quoted here are right: "You can't force things onto people who don't want to do it." So if that is the case, maybe it's time to think about replacing George with somebody who does want to wage war on the terrorist enemies of the United States. He Is Tall Our eyes across the sea (how does he see that far from SoCal?) Charles Johnson notes this very encouraging news regarding the French and anti-Semitism: they're against it, officially anyway:
Layne-Vision Damn, Ken Layne goes on a fishing trip and comes back inspired! Not only has he joined our merry band of music bloggers, but he's organized Blogcritics.com in a manner bespeaking genius:
When Eric (or whoever) posts a review, he selects a category -- classical, Latin, punk, country, etc. -- and the post goes both to the front page and the top of the appropriate section. But wait! Some music might fit into several categories! Calm down, dude. You can select multiple categories. ....Onward. If the reviewer is signed up with one of those referrer programs like Amazon's, he/she should link up the record in question to earn a few dimes off the sales. I get about 20 bucks a month from this stuff. Not bad considering I would write about books and music for nothing. And there's another idea: if Eric can snag music-related stuff like biographies and DVDs, we should review 'em for the new site (and our own sites). There's no reason why a book about Nirvana or Johnny Cash shouldn't be on the same page with CDs. ....I would hope people only post things with some substance. Don't try to write like a record reviewer, please. Write like you always write and keep an eye out for the spontaneous gems. Sometimes I'll be typing some quick dumb thing and a bottle of wine later, it's turned into a nice little piece of writing. That's the kind of stuff I'd enjoy seeing collected on a music site. ....I hope Eric sets up some deal with CDNow or Amazon like Andrew Sullivan has done with that book club deal. Eric should get some coin for setting this up, and an online store using something like Amazon's developer tools could bring in a bit of income for the Olsen Household. Tainted? The Mighty Pej finds an evocative philosophical look at music "poisoned at the source." Can we still enjoy it?
Porn-no Speaking of salacious pics, Dawn - who is desperately trying to cheer up our big little buddy Matt Moore (cheer up dude, just post SOMETHING and it will all come back) - is riding my ass again about porno. The writen word can of course be stimulating - it all takes place in the mind - although I don't really have the time to sit around and read erotica. As evidenced by the last post, still pictures don't bother me either: I don't go looking for them, and I don't want to see pics with MORE THAN ONE PERSON in them, but non-body-cavity shots of hot women can grab my attention and hold it for a time. No problem. But I really hate "porn" porn, especially on film or video. I am not a prude and it isn't the depiction of sex in and of itself that bothers me: there are many movies where sexual relationships are integral to the grain and fibre of the story - no problem there either. But porn for porn's sake is extremely UNSEXY to me: it is stupid (in a bad way, unlike say, the Ramones), contrived, demeaning, ugly, and by focusing only on the sexual nature of people, profoundly anti-human. I don't want to watch other people having sex, I want to do it myself. Porno is NOT REAL. Even if it was recorded real, it isn't "real," it's just tape. It all just makes me vaguely ill. And on a sidenote, what in the name of Johnny Wad would I want to see what a man is up to? Get that fucker off the screen and leave the woman on if I am forced to look at something. I don't care what people look at, read, smell, or stick up their ass. I'm not looking to ban anything that doesn't involve children (and those sick fucks should be skinned, literally), I just don't want to waste time on something that turns me off, makes me feel vaguely sick to my stomach, and causes me to wonder: "Do I look and sound that stupid doing that? God, I hope not." Not to get all graphic, but I am in the most amazing sexual relationship I've ever had. I've never had a relationship that didn't diminish over time before. Never. But for the last seven years I have. No matter what else gets fucked up in my life, that area is nothing but good, and ever more intense. To me, porn is for people who have problems with sex. I've lucked out, it's almost funny. I've never really had problems with women in general: they've almost always been there for me. I've had no end of issues with individual women - who doesn't? - but REAL women, who you can look at and admire, touch, talk with, smell, and literally lose yourself in ARE WHERE THE ACTION IS. If I suddenly found myself - God forbid - alone, I wouldn't stock up on magazines and videos and books or snoop around the Net, I would walk out the door and GO MEET REAL WOMEN, but that's just me. A Picture Is Worth... I'm getting into visuals a lot more of late. Most blogs - including this one - don't utilize graphic potential nearly enough. It's done wonders for Dawn, Tony, and Maddie; hasn't hurt wKen, Hoopty, or the UnaBlogger one little bit either. Not that you have to get all salacious or anything: check out this great photo series from the AVID site, highlighted by a billboard declaring "The King of the Jews for the King of Beers." I knew about the wine, but wasn't under the impression the Savior was a beer man. The Job Also in the Fayetteville paper: with the emphasis in the last few days over problems in the military, including allegations of rampant infidelity, it is important to remind ourselves what the military actually does:
‘‘I was stunned to see a grenade fly right at me,’’ he said. ‘‘I was trying to get out of there and survive.’’ Vedvick was one of five U.S. soldiers wounded in a four-hour battle on Saturday near Khost in eastern Afghanistan. He discussed his experiences in a telephone interview on Wednesday from his hospital bed in Landstuhl, Germany. ....He suffered shrapnel wounds up and down the left side of his body. He described his medical treatment in Germany as ‘‘great. They have bent over backwards for me.’’ Vedvick expects to return to the United States for more medical treatment. ‘‘They said I should be about 100 percent in about three months,’’ he said. Vedvick received the Purple Heart medal for being wounded in combat. ‘‘Not the badge you go around looking for,’’ he said. ....Two other 82nd Airborne Division soldiers, Spc. Michael J. Rewakowski and Pfc. Ryan S. Worth, were injured in the fight. All three of the soldiers are in the 3rd Platoon of Company B of the 1st Battalion of the 505th. Worth and Rewakowski looked healthy and acted upbeat on Wednesday, according to The Associated Press, which interviewed them in Afghani- stan. They are expected to leave the hospital today. ‘‘I had been hit by two grenades,’’ Vedvick said. ‘‘Then Rewakowski had come up. He was helping me get up. We both got hit by the third one. Worth was rounding the corner. He got hit by the first one.’’ Worth said people were surprisingly calm. “There weren’t a lot of people yelling or screaming. ... Everyone knew exactly what to do. We’ve been trained really well,” he said. The battle occurred while the troops were on a reconnaissance mission near the village of Ayub Kheyl, about 7 miles from Khost. U.S. forces are combing the area for Taliban and al-Qaida holdouts. Capt. Chris Cirino said the soldiers were looking for a suspect and had surrounded a compound. A team of Afghan soldiers was sent in to ask those inside to come out. The Afghans returned, saying the occupants had guns. When they went back to the compound to talk again, they were fired on, and two Afghan fighters were killed. Worth said the enemy would throw grenades over the wall and then poke weapons through openings and fire their guns. Despite his injury, he continued firing until air support arrived about 45 minutes later, he said. The unit, which had been in Afghanistan just three weeks, was surprised that the people inside the compound did not surrender. “In my mind, I know that the enemy inside that building that day knew they were going to die once they fired on U.S. forces,” Cirino said. “There was a greatly superior force outside. ... They knew they were going to die, but they wanted to kill or injure a bunch of Americans if they could.”
"He says he wanted to go to heaven by killing himself and also killing infidels and supporters of infidels in Afghanistan," Amrullah Saleh said. Investigators still have not established the identity or nationality of the suspect, captured Monday, but they know that the "very sophisticated" car bomb, almost a half-ton of explosives, was put together outside Afghanistan, Saleh told The Associated Press. ....The capture of the alleged suicide terrorist had sent a chill through this city, especially since the shrapnel-packed Toyota Corolla had penetrated to a spot just hundreds of yards from the U.S. Embassy, Karzai's offices and the headquarters of the international security force patrolling Kabul. It was the latest incident in a series — including the assassination this month of Vice President Abdul Qadir — that have put the Afghan capital on edge in the months since a U.S.-led campaign ousted the Taliban government and scattered the Afghan-based al-Qaida terror network.
Afghan intelligence officials said the information led them to deploy checkpoints and extra patrols in the city. But neither the Afghans nor the ISAF spokeswoman would elaborate. Saleh said the bomb-rigged car originally was driven to the southeastern Afghan town of Khost and turned over to the foreign suspect. Khost lies 20 miles from the Pakistani border. "He has admitted he worked for al-Qaida," the Afghan official said. "He has admitted his first target — he was tasked to kill His Excellency Mr. Karzai." Failing that, he said, the bomber was to target government ministers or foreign compounds or facilities in Kabul. Saleh displayed photographs of the makings of the car bomb — yellow bricks of what he said was C-4 explosives, tubes that he said carried a liquid explosive, heavy batteries and connections, and two "last buttons" fitted by the gearshift to detonate the car. Clearly it took experienced experts to fashion the bomb-on-wheels, he said. "They put a lot of thought into it." Leppards In the Parking Lot Nothing new on the Fort Bragg murders in the hometown Fayetteville Observer today, but there are some other interesting things: Ross the Bloviator just asked whatever happened to Def Leppard. Now we know:
Russell Miller drove from Pennsylvania to the Raeford Road shopping center to sit on top of his white Dodge van and take in the tunes. Susan Perry and Cleveland Brewer got up at 4 a.m. to drive from Yadkinville to Fayetteville for the show. ....Others shopped for fold-out chairs, bottled water, umbrellas, disposable cameras, markers for autographs and Def Leppard’s new release, “X,” which went on sale Tuesday. Still, some just wanted to shop.
....Just a few days ago, the band played at the Mall of America in Minnesota. Def Leppard has also played at a Wal-Mart in Texas to promote the new album.
Bass player Rick Savage wore a blue Wal-Mart vest as he played. As the set ended, the band headed around back before walking into the Wal-Mart electronics section to sign autographs. Fans clogged the front entrance as both women and men crowded in the men’s and women’s restrooms. In the back of the store, Wal-Mart workers set up 19-inch Emerson television boxes as barricades. Three televisions played Def Leppard videos overhead as fans waited with the new CD in hand. The autographs were free, but fans had to buy the new album to get one. The band rushed in about 8p.m. as fans crowded around to take photographs and to get a close-up look at the band, which formed in the United Kingdom about 25 years ago. Wednesday, July 31, 2002
The Roster Pt 3 Further FREE CDs for Bloggers participants. Read and visit. Please see Pts 1 and 2 of roster below, and Blogcritics.com announcement. Ken Layne - KenLayne.com
In 1970, the real art started. The first hints were on the the "Ned Kelly" soundtrack (yeah, the terrible movie with Mick Jagger). Disgusted with syrupy production, he went over his Nashville bosses' heads and made a deal with RCA headquarters in New York: from now on, he would produce his own stuff and just turn in a record when it was finished. In the first half of the 1970s, he released some 15 albums, including "Honky Tonk Heroes" and "This Time," two of the finest country records ever made. They're sparse and weird, dominated by bass and Jennings' baritone, filled with songs of bravado and sorrow. It's hard to imagine today just how much Jennings shook up Nashville. They just thought he was a good-looking dumb Texan with a radio-friendly baritone. They didn't figure on a coke-vacuum lunatic who would threaten session musicians with a pistol. They didn't figure on a guy with his own band (not allowed at the time) and a chunky yet spidery lead guitar style and a taste for Bob Dylan songs and heavy drums. And they weren't too happy when the former Buddy Holly bassist started stomping around town with long greasy hair and a biker beard, just like the rest of his hooligan bandmates and songwriter pals. Along with fellow Texan Willie Nelson and some other talented degenerates, Waylon bridged the gap between the hippies and bikers and the old-time country audience. Gram Parsons and the Byrds had tried, but they never got close to commercial country-western success. Waylon had a dozen Number One hits in the 1970s. He could sound as sad as Leonard Cohen and as doped-up mean as Keith Richards. By the end of the 1970s, he was a serious cocaine fiend and the music suffered. He sold out arenas, sometimes with Willie, and started singing into a gold-plated microphone. The last name wasn't necessary anymore. He was just "Waylon." Nashville got bored of the Outlaws and moved on to Urban Cowboy. But Waylon didn't ever really go away. While his 1980s' records sounded as slick as the stuff he used to hate, he still managed to dig up good songs. He was the first to chart with a Steve Earle song, "The Devil's Right Hand." Of course, Earle was another doper Texan with big romantic ideals. Jennings even made a country hit out of Los Lobos' "Will the Wolf Survive?" He got sick a few times -- heart surgery, his left foot chopped off late last year -- and tried to retire quietly to Arizona, where he worked the honky tonks in the early 1960s. Yesterday he died. The last time I saw Waylon play, it was at one of those country-radio shows, five or six acts, most of 'em bad. But Steve Earle was there, fresh off his first LP, "Guitar Town." I saw Jennings play -- he was still a damned good live act -- and then I got on Earle's bus and we jabbered about the Replacements for an hour. Country music is a weird business run by people who hate country music. It's been that way for half a century. People like Waylon Jennings did more than make great music. They broke rules and threatened bookkeepers and cleared the road. Sure, the road gets blocked again, but sooner or later a Lucinda Williams or Beck comes along and breaks the same dumb rules again. Don't get your idea of Waylon Jennings off the CNN reports of his death. Ignore those video clips and pick up a copy of "Honky Tonk Heroes." It's spooky music. It holds up. Those who appreciate great American music will be listening to that record a hundred years from now. Brian Linse - Ain't No Bad Dude
FoxNews, all of Talk Radio, and the NY Post are reporting that the song, which nobody actually seems to have heard yet, is sympathetic to the views of young Johnny Taliban. This has had the predictable effect in Blogistan of generating a multitude of outraged posts. If you are interested, Glenn Reynolds, Dawson Jackson, and Damien Penny represent the guys who have their heads up their asses on this one, while Matt Welch, Jim Henley, Ken Layne, and Charles Oliver seem to have a much better grip on the issue. As silly as the whole thing may be, it is also a good example of why we all need to take a fucking breath and relax. A relatively unknown, alternative Country Music songwriter doesn't pose much of a threat to our way of life, no matter what he writes. The type of hysteria that this story has generated, and it's potential effects on artistic expression, however, do pose a threat to our way of life. Jason Rubenstein - Tonecluster
Aside from various courses like Music Theory I, II, III and IV where you analyze great works of classical and jazz at insane levels of deconstructed chords, melodies and so on, you will take Ear Training, which is where a teacher plays something on an instrument, and you have to play "Name That Tune" by transcribing onto music paper exactly what was performed. Exactly. And as you go on, the notes get notey-er and the passage become longer and the performance faster until you're transcribing entire symphonies as if they were court proceedings in Los Angeles county. Another class is Sight-Singing, where you sing on sight. "Hey you! Sing!!!" "No, can't you see I'm invisible? Drummers... sheesh!". Sight-signing is where you read a piece of music and have to sing the melody exactly as written. Its is not as easy as it sounds, so to speak, especially after a late night of drinking and, er, drinking. You'll also take Music History, which is exactly what it sounds like it'd be. From Medieval Chanting to Bach to Chopin to Ellington to Bernstein to Eminem. Ok, just kidding about Eminem. Aside from all of these core classes, the real work in music school is the performance work. There is such a thing (in Jazz anyway) as Ensemble Class, where you get together with other students selected by the professorial staff and pretend you're a band for a couple hours each day. You study the greats, and perform them under the tutelage of a teacher who can usually play his ass off at the drop of a dime and knows more about music than all of you student put together and squared. Now, to get picked for an ensemble class, which are ranked in levels of ability and talent from "Monsters and Bad M*****f******" down to "Heinous Suckage, but take their tuition money anyway". In order to get into the best ensembles, you must audition. And the competition is heavy, because the best ensembles get the most attention from teachers and from the great Jazz and Rock professionals that blow through town. And once in an ensemble, you had better learn your stuff. Because if you walk in and you don't have the tune "down". memorized and known to you like the back of your hand, the teacher will rip you a new one in embarrassment and bad grades. You will suck and it will be known. Audition day is nerve-wracking, except to someone like me who was a)a few years older than the rest of the students, and b)taking classes at night as I had a day-job and didn't require attention from passing jazzers for my daily bread. But still, I wanted to play with the best students, so I practiced lots and did my best. Speaking of practice, I did say that you'd be spending lots of time with your instrument. Oh boy. I used to practice like a madman. If I was on a computer contract, practice meant four hours a night during the week and six during the day on weekends. If I was between contracts and living off my savings, I would go at it for eight or more hours a day. Scales, both hands. Exercises, both hands. Speed work, strength work, improvisation, and repertoire. Some guys I knew played for twelve hours a day on weekend and then went out to play gigs at local smoky jazz joints for five more hours. Yyyyikes. Right. So. Auditions. This is where everyone is competing for the top slots, so everyone is out to impress the teaching staff. Which means most people are suddenly stricken with an attack of the 'widdlies' and the need to dress like Generic Rock Star #642 or Eccentric Jazz Bassist #1. The latter were knows as "Jaco Pasteurized" but nevermind. What are 'widdlies' you ask? Allow me to describe: A musician goes onto the platform and launches into his audition piece, but in an effort to dazzle everyone with his technical skill launches into the following: WiddlyWiddlyWiddlyFiddlyDiddlyWiddlyWiddlyBiddleIddleFiddlyDiddle- WEEEEEWOOOORRRRWWWWWWWWWAAAAGGGHHHHHHHHPiddlyDiddly- WiddlyHibblySchmiddlyWiddlyDiddlyDigMeDigMeDigMe..." and so on. One will get the occasional saxophonist who does this: "Bah-da-do-BEE-Woo!! Pah-de-do-DEE-Yoo. {Pause} HOMNK! HOMNK! SkreeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeepWah da do BEE Fop!" It ain't pretty. It can be intimidating to hear these technical marvels, but since melody has to occur somewhere in there, I wasn't terribly worried. One of the only guys who could out-play me was amazing to hear, a fellow who played piano in a gospel church since he'd been about 5, and I'd open the door for him anywhere. The other was a real jazz-head who had memorized every song written since 1922 and could play it in any style. He didn't need music school, he needed a job in Vegas. Well, luckily I auditioned with two of my friends, and unlike most of the crowd who was dressed like, well, musicians, we dressed like accountants. Dull. Mundane. Boring. No glitz, no glamour. And we played our asses off, and did a fine job too. Afterwards, someone said to us "As soon as I saw you guys get up there, dressed like geeks, I knew you'd be monsters. Its always the ones too busy practicing to shop for clothes that can blow [play well]." To this day I dress poorly. So, once you're into the semester, you generally work like crazy if you want to be any good and not embarrass yourself at recital time. Oh yes, at the end of the term you must perform in front of the school. Its fun, as it is a captive audience and you can pick any songs you want pending approval from your teacher, who usually lets you pick whatever you like. But during the school year, you have to put up with the student body of posers, no-playing fools, the classical school kids who hogged the practice rooms by running over their allotted time by hours and hours, the competition for real work, and the criticism from fellow students about how good you aren't and how much you don't know. Musicians are bitchy. Very bitchy. Since I was a sensitive soul and had my own voice at the piano (i.e. I sound like me, not like a Chick Corea or Herbie Hancock wannabe), I got a lot of "If you really want to make it you have to sound like so-and-so" or "You suck. You can't play the intro to {song} exactly as it was recorded in 1951". But the teachers encouraged my style, and that was good enough. One last thing: you can opt for private lessons, which I did. This is where it is you and a teacher, and the teacher empties his or her head of knowledge and you can fill your own with this knowledge. Amazing if you have a brilliant teacher, and I had a few. You work like crazy as well, but there is nothing like one-on-one instruction with someone who has umpteen brilliant recordings to his credit. Now, this is no where near as terrifying as law school. On the school experience meter, Pejman wins hands-down. But I was inspired, so what the hell. Seth Farber - The Talking Dog
Though I reallt haven't discussed music much (or at all) on the blog, I would, without doubt, if free cd s started showing up (I don't wear one yet-- but I have conceived of a t-shirt that says "Bloggers Do It for Hits"). So indeed, I am interested. Thanks so much for your initiative. Dave Gutowski - Largehearted Boy
A couple of years ago, right after I purchased my first CD recorder, I burned my first mix CD, "Music To Drive My Wife Crazy." Included on this was Beth Orton's "I Wish I Never Saw the Sunshine" from her Trailer Park album, and every time my bride hears that song tears well in her eyes, because Beth Orton not only sings, she lives the lyrics with her voice.
E.A. Castro - More Inhuman Than Human
Nigel Richardson - The Yes/No Interlude
Don't know if the Velvet Underground and Nico was the first "alternative" rock album. Alternative to what? Example: The Monks' Blank Monk Time also came out in 1966 - admittedly only in Germany - but it sounded like Sister Ray cut into 10 three minute segments. 13th Floor Elevators first LP - also 1966. VU and N is a great LP but it wasn't the stand-alone miracle some people like to think it was. Tycen Hopkins - Captain Mojo
The album is fairly tight, with not much in the way of filler. It’s full of potential singles, but particularly memorable are Die, All Right, Main Offender, Hate to Say I Told You So, and Supply And Demand. The only weak-point I can see, is that aside from one song, everything sounds fairly similar. However, it’s a good enough sound that you shouldn’t mind. And of course, being Swedish Punk-Rockers, the lyrics are not the strongest. Consider their wailing against the evils of Capitalism in Die, All Right: Hey! I've got a message and tonight I'm gonna send it. Yeah! I had a body, men with knives wanted to lend it. Sold my body to the company so I got the money now away I go Thank you Mr. CEO. See what I mean. But lead singer Pelle Alqvist’s distinctive rendition of this sub-par poetry caps the three chord goodness of the rest of the band. Zaldor - Zaldor's World
Pop... Pretty much anything other than Country. Would be happy to put music reviews on my site, just beware that I'm not a big RIAA fan though - so I'd have my little anti-riaa spin and would promote more lesser known artists, not the 'Britney Spears' of the world...
Ben Domenech - The Ben File
BEN'S TOP FIVE ALBUMS: Prepare to be rocked like a hurricane. 5. Live at Montreux 1982 & 1985 Stevie Ray Vaughan On July 17, 1982, blues guitarist Stevie Ray Vaughan went to Switzerland to play in the annual Montreux Jazz Festival. Vaughan turned in a blistering performance with his amazing guitar and Jack Daniels & nicotine voice, bleeding every note. But it isn't just the music that stands out from the 1982 performance: it's the chorus of boos that begin in the third track and carry through all the way to the end. The jazz purists in the audience didn't like Vaughan, with his American style and flashy Texas garb, and ended up booing him off stage. But the audience had two people that liked what they heard--David Bowie and Jackson Browne. The two funded the recording of Vaughan's first album, Texas Flood, which climbed the Top 40, won two Grammys, and spent over half a year on the charts (practically unheard of for a blues album). When Vaughan returned to Montreux in 1985, the fickle Swiss couldn't get enough of him. The boos turned to cheers, and Vaughan gave it his all on stage. When SRV died five years later in a helicopter crash near East Troy, Wisconsin, Montreux declared a day of mourning. 4. The Joshua Tree U2 After the political focus of their previous albums, many wondered whether U2 had anything more to offer. With Joshua Tree, the Irish rockers staked a claim as the greatest guitar band in the world. This album has no weak points, and is just as thrilling to listen to today as it was when released in 1987. I distinctly remember sitting in a room when I was six, the oversized headphones from the turntable slipping off my head, listening to In God's Country and knowing what rock & roll could be. Since this album, only the postmodern Achtung Baby and the rock homecoming of All That You Can't Leave Behind have come close to matching U2's early material. In my mind, they never will. 3. Live at the Regal B.B. King One top five list, two live blues albums. B.B. King has always been good, but for this one furious night, he's amazing. This recording of a 1964 concert shows the undisputed King of the Blues at his best, as singer, guitarist, and entertainer. You can hear the Chicago crowd on the point of explosion during "How Blue Can You Get"--and King plays them out as only a consummate musician can. This is the high point for the blues; as Bleeding Gums Murphy always said, "The Blues ain't about making youself feel better, it's about makin' other people feel worse." 2. Blood on the Tracks Bob Dylan It's difficult to pick the greatest Dylan album--some would say impossible--but Blood on the Tracks could be it. Largely inspired by the disintegration of his marriage, this is a largely quiet, acoustic-based album, yet the songs are remarkable--both clear-eyed and sentimental, lovely and melancholy. On "Shelter From the Storm," Dylan is a philosopher warrior poet, equipped with three chords and the truth. As much as one can separate Dylan's best from all the other efforts, this album is his greatest achievement. Yet. 1. Abbey Road The Beatles This isn't the Beatles most ambitious album by any means, yet it's their best, a fitting swan song for the greatest rock group of all time. Even as the group fell apart, they were still at the top of their form, with strong songwriting featuring the greatest harmonies ever heard on any rock record (especially in "Because"), the heartbreaking acoustic chords of "Something," a flowing medley of interrelated songs on side two, and the explosive guitar-heavy rock of "I Want You (She's So Heavy)" and "Come Together." This is album hearkens back in many ways to the blend of pop sensibilities with rock experimentation in Revolver--but on the whole, "the one where Paul died" is a better album. I could sit on the shore of a desert island and listen to this album watching sunset after sunset. Dan Haar - Ugly Nora
I saw Eric Olsen’s call for music bloggers and I couldn’t resist. I signed up. I don’t know if I have to wait to be accepted now or what, but I’m going to be doing this anyway. Because. Douglas Wolk read my mind and spilled it out in the new Village Voice. PIL is back! Shit, so’s Gang of 4! Fucking Hell, DNA’s back together! New York is dancing again and it ain’t to no shitty electro. ARE Weapons blew it! At least I like to think so. In my own musical fantasy, ARE Weapons, Fischerspooner and Crossover all had their 30-minute stage slot and nobody cared. Maybe that’s not fair, Fischerspooner was/is interesting. They looked good and had a good concept, but come on man, it’s REALLY about the music. Vanilla Fudge for our times. They've got nothing on the B-52’s. Seriously. Back to Mr. Wolk’s piece, there’s a new gang in town. And they know how to move too. The Liars, Gang o-oops I mean Radio 4, the Rapture (who seem to have gone to the Strokes school of promotion without playing) and a good number of the early afternoon acts at the Village Voice’s Coney Island Siren Festival, all found a way to simultaneously channel Andy Gill’s sound into their own guitars! It’s a fucking miracle. And it all sounds… pretty good. They’ve got the sound down, no problem. They all rock and roll, they’re all shockingly intense live, and the music all moves but they’re all a little blatant. Radio 4, just so you know, was putting on the best shows, but I’ve been hearing bad things lately (they added members which isn’t always a good idea). They were fairly original, with an Arto Lindsay guitar sound and late Clash sounding songs but the new album is a little over the top. Get their singles if you can. I’ll stick with the Yeah Yeah Yeahs for now. But isn’t this great. New music in New York that isn’t made by models. Prentiss Riddle - Aprendiz de todo, maestro de nada
I like Michele's no-B.S. behavior policy: Campers will be schlepped around by Austin musicians on these outings and are expected to behave as honored guests in our city. Any students who misbehave, endangering the group or themselves will lose their outing priveledges immediately. Any students caught drinking, smoking or engaging in sexual behavior beyond handholding will be put on the first plane home, with no refunds, no fooling. All these activities are AGAINST THE LAW for minors in Texas (except handholding). Hmm -- last I knew minors in Texas could legally do a little more than hold hands, but I don't blame Michele at all for putting her charges on a short leash. Besides the Natural Ear camps there are the Austin School of Music Rock Camp, a day camp for kids 10 and up, and the Austin Guitar School Rock and Blues Camp which apparently accepts adults as well as kids. Sign me up! Veshka Valkyrie - Thought Puddles
I'm a Goldfinger fan. So, when I saw their new CD on sale at a local store, I picked it up. Since I also purchased a few other CD's while I was there, including one of those "I haven't heard this in years" CD's, I haven't put it into my car's rotation of CD's my friends hate. So, instead I decided to listen to listen to it this evening... Turns out to be one of those CD's you can't listen to on your computer. But, it's an enhanced CD, so I opted to poke around instead. For anyone who owns or will borrow this CD, if you're very squimish and are easily provoked to sob uncontrollably at the sight of pain, then I wouldn't suggest this. For eveyone else, I would highly suggest checking out the section called "Meet Your Meat". Although this does not sound like a selling point, but this section is absolutely horrifying! It's actual footage from chicken, pig and cow farms, and how the animals are treated and slaughtered. Chickens were beaten to the point where the only way they could move was to flap their wings violently. Cows were hung to bleed alive. Etc, etc, etc... Just thinking of that video makes me want to vomit. I think I'm going vegie. Chari Daignault - Techfluid
favorite artists: Bonnie Rait, Dixie Chicks, Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Mel Torme, etc.... Georgy Kishtoo - Georgy Kishtoo
Le public sur la colline d'en face me rappelait un pique-nique à Hampstead Heath, au son de Carmina Burana joué au loin par un grand orchestre sur une scène en forme de bulle. C'était les premiers jours de beau temps et les anglais découvraient tout ce qu'il pouvait comme peau rose et tâches de rousseur. Ce jour là j'ai compris à quel point les anglaises différaient des françaises, par la carnation (translucide), la taille et la forme de la poitrine (carré, haute et forte) et, moins physique, plus culturel, le goût pour les chandelles et le vin rouge (accessoires indispensables de la latinité et donc de la bella vita). Pour cette photo je me suis éloigné du kiosque pour utiliser ma plus longue focale, car je voulais que l'avant-plan et l'arrière-plan soient écrasés, avec une taille exagérée des personnages de l'arrière plan. Le seul problème est que les musiciens sont à l'ombre et je n'ai pas utilisé de flash, donc l'image est surexposée… Dommage. Ah oui, il y a aussi le son… vous pouvez entendre la fanfare jouer le thème de Mannix. James Durbin - DurbinWorld
Favorite Artists: Frank Sinatra, Mobius, any Russian composer, Depeche Mode, Cure
The price is your False Pride, your Inflated Ego, and your Fear of Rejection. See, NotDating ™ is based on the ideas of honesty and open communication. There is a sense in the dating scene that somehow all of the “Good” people are already taken, and the only ones left are the psychotic, the physically unappealing, and the losers. The problem with that philosophy is if you are not one of the people in a relationship, you feel like you must be the loser or the psycho. To be fair – this could be true – but nothing is forever, and today’s emotional wreck is often tomorrow’s happily married mother of three. The pressure of going out on a date is unhealthy for you, because it teaches you to hide away the beauty of who you are. It also tricks you into thinking that there is nothing you need to change. The other side effects include denial – as if dating every person you meet gives you a sense of False Pride that you aren’t a loser. The problem is this gives you an Inflated Ego, leading you to spurn other good people. The truth is you’re just a victim of your Fear of Rejection. Dan Rosenbaum - Over the Edge
Favorites are Elvis Costello, Peter Gabriel, Richard Thompson, Bruce Springsteen, Richard Shindell, the Bobs. Jon Dyer - Present Tense
No: Techno, Sad Girls with accoustics. I was a PD for a radio station in college, and I used to get tons of free CD's from the wife who worked in a record chain. That's all gone now. Now I'm paying...and crying.
I never knew all of the really cool bands, but I knew more than the average guy. I was listening to most bands a year before they hit the radio (if they hit radio), and I had sufficient choice of what I could listen to. I could then introduce other people to new music, because I knew how hard it is to find new music when all you have is the radio. Taking a $16 chance on a CD is not everyone's idea of a good time. Most times you get burned with a single, $16 song So, I figured why not take a shot. I just can't stand that the music is getting more and more regulated, and the music that I have access to gets crappier by the day. So, this may be as bad an idea as when I got one of the first Rage against the Machine demo's on tape, and panned it as "pure crap", or it may be something really that puts me back in the loop. But for now, I'm stuck in a locked groove. Chris Puzak - Distorting the Medium
The Metallica/Ja Rule collaboration “We Did it Again”. This is the absolute lowest point in Metallica’s career. It makes “I Disappear” sound like “Damage, Inc.”. I’m going to be sick.
Billy Mabray - News Goat
Amber Nussbaum - My Aim Is True
okay so first i'll talk about tonite's show. then elvis. oh yeah, and i'll prolly post the pics from tonite's show either tomorrow or the next day. i'm too tired to deal with all that tonite. so look for em. okay. on to the rock. heidi and i drove an hour out to newport news to shadrach's (which turned out to be really awesome) to see the facedown recs tour, etc. good stuff. so this cool band called yield was up first. they were young (well, not the drummer) and funny. i was laughing and grinning through almost every song. they sang a song about chinese food, a song about being a punk with a clean mouth...lyrics like, "you think you're so punk. cause you know how to cuss. well i've got something to tell ya. you're not one of us." hehe. oh yeah, and a song about natalie portman. rock. and a song begging people to buy the cd. they were great. the kid had a perfect punk rock singy songy voice and they played pretty decent. i was pleased. next up was my favorite new band (they'd be yours if you heard em too), isra. these guys blew me away again. they sound SO GOOD. like, normally going to a hardcore show, you're like, "i danced..yeah..i had a good time. what? the bands? i don't know. it was kind of loud. i couldn't really tell." isra's sound is so tight. i mean, everything's clean. this guy craig. if you haven't heard his voice. it's like..the best to come along in a while as far as hardcore. i get excited listening to this band like i get excited listening to refused. ok? enough said. i mean, they're just this cohesive unit. everything flows. it looks like they're reading each others' minds or something. crazy stuff. oh yeah, plus...did i mention the fact that they are actually great guys? yeah. they are. i mean, first craig lets me into the show free (thank ya buddy), then they actually all talk to me and heidi and remember our names. plus, they're all excited about the pictures. and their girlfriends are even nice. what are the odds. so yeah. unlike another band which i photographed, that just blew me off even though i was doing them a favor (i won't mention their names out of kindness), isra were all really really great to be around. one more thing. because of my camera being so slow recording those huge files, i did not catch the coolest thing to happen at a local show, like...ever. they set one of their cymbals on fire. sweet. i'm mad i didn't get a pic. but they got it on video so it's all good. who was the other band that did this? was it strife? or murder city devils? i don't remember. prolly both. ok. enough about them for now. next up was hanover saints. i don't even remember what they sounded like. i was upset at the morons in the pit that were beating the living crap out of one another. the band is wondering why no one's watching or clapping, and why no one's in the pit. it was because the same like, 6 or 7 guys that mess up every christian punk/hardcore show were there. doing it again. geez. tell me why i never ever ever see any of these guys at a regular punk/hc show. like one that's not in a church. and i go to a ton of shows. is it because they know they'd get the crap kicked out of them if they tried that stuff there? i think so. so anyway. they took me right out of the punk rock spirit. but finally the band went off and everyone acted ok for a minute. ... Travis Lee - One Golden Spoon
2002, Solid State Not much can be said about this band, and quite frankly it's only due to the fact that they've been together for two years. In those two years, however, this post-hardcore dirty Fugazi-laden band has done nothing but make waves in their genre. Notable about the band is the excessive nervousness and stage presence they bring, which results in an ultimate crowd response and viewing pleasure. A-->B life is nothing but the best release I've ever heard come out of Solid State's new band roster. Forget Dead Poetic, as catchy and rythmic as they are, mewithoutYou pulls out any stops, pulls out any holds against their genre, and orchestrate what is nothing short of pure beauty. Through the dirty screaming - and by dirty, I don't mean refined-use-of-distortion-pedal-screaming a la Zao, Spitfire, Training for Utopia, Hatebreed, or Dead Poetic, I mean passionate screaming that's barely out there - belted out at a tone so refreshing it hits you, this is the best thing in a while. In perfect beauty comes the excellent guitar work. Recorded with just one guitarist, it rang far above any other freshman release I've heard in a while, and live, with two guitarists going at it, brings tears to your eyes. In the short time this band's been out, they've been making a name in [half] the time. I recommend you watch for them, so you won't be 'jumping on the bandwagon' when they get huge. Chris Daley - Daley Weather
I'm an audiophile used to work for a high end manufacturer. I've written about audio issues in my blog- mostly on how the recording industry should be dealing with things like MP3's. Eric Fagerlund - Buzzard's Blog
Today we leave for Martha's Vineyard for the weekend. There is something about this island that makes you just forget everything when you step foot on it. We will be staying with my parents at the house that they rent every year. We take my dad's SUV onto the beach and we won't have a soul for a mile on either side of us. I hesitate calling it paradise but, it as close as I have ever been. Jim Carruthers - Resonation - Words
Dawson Jackson - Dawson Speaks
My Old Friend The Blues (Steve Earle) Just when every ray of hope was gone I should have known that you would come along I can't believe I ever doubted you My old friend the blues Another lonely night, a nameless town If sleep don't take me first, you'll come around 'Cause I know I can always count on you My old friend the blues Lovers leave and friends will let you down But you're the only sure thing that I've found No matter what I do I'll never lose My old friend the blues Just let me hide my weary heart in you My old friend the blues Course it's that VOICE, and the acoustic that makes me get all misty hearted and happy/sad. Ryan McGee - Wading In the Velvet Sea
that's what was just had by myself, my roomie, and my GF. here's how it went down: so i'm at home with the 'rents and the girl, at the Lowell Folk Festival which features many a band, many a food tent, and many a crazy mutherf#cker cuz hey, it's Lowell, my hometown, and homeland of some freaky deaky folk. anyways, we're paging through the ads for used cars, as i am in the process of buying one (more to come on that as to why soon enough...ok screw it it's too good a story...) so i have this car. an '87 cadillac cimarron. called "miss daisy" cuz well, it's old and gets me to tha sto'. the girl and i drive back from the gym. i park, as per usual. i open the car door, per usual. the car door drops to a good thirty degree angle with an accompanying sound of "TWANG". not per usual. long story short, a bolt holding the car in place and plum just fallen off. so i drive the car into a nearby parking lot with one hand on the wheel and one hand holding the door in place cuz well, it won't close anymore. 20 minutes later, the girl and i manage to get the bolt back in place, discover yet another part of the door has broken, the hinge/clasp mechanism which allows the door to close, fix that, and head on our way. (later in the day the car decided it doesnt want power windows to work, so it stops working. i yell at the car, it works. then accelarets on its own accord later on Rt. 495. this is the car's way of saying, "look, mcgee, it's been a good ride. we had some good times, you and i. but babe, pull the freakin' plug, i need rest!" so anyways, when retling all this to my folks, they are sufficiently horrified, as well they should be, and pull out the daily paper and pour through some ads with me. i make the offhanded comment of "so much for new computer" since a car AND a computer is a bit much now. so my folks offer my brother's old computer to me, which has every upgrade i wanted (DVD drive, CD burner) and is also a gateway, therefore compatibility with all i ever have. joy! so, we decide to test out the DVD player upon arriving home. the girl breaks out her copy of "moulin rouge". we pop open the slot. out pops "girls gone wild volume 8". needless to say we're a bit stunned. the girl doens't know my brother quite well enough to openly laugh, but she really wants to. i had already seen the "porno"-labelled folder on his desktop upon booting it up for the first time, so this wasn't a huge surprise. and he's a 22 year old boy, he BETTER have porn lying around. so we're laughing, the roomie asks whassup, we explain, she declares "f^ck it, we're getting pizza, finishing off the beer, dressing like white trash, and watching this bad boy." Scott Bell - Confessions of a Jesus Phreak |
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