I've been going through a DVD exploration of Joy Division, who never spoke to me. I'd have to be made of stone to miss "Love Will Tear Us Apart," but in the band's moment, its tormented nature simply sounded gloomy to me. Later attempts to connect to the band failed because Martin Hannett's pins the records to the late 1970s as permanently and fatally as a butterfly on a corkboard.
Anton Corbijn's Control (Weinstein) at least did the job of getting me interested in Ian Curtis. The scenes of Curtis as a young Bowie fan are beautifully awkward and reveal an influence I'd missed the first time around. Control also depicts the low rent nature of the music business - such as it was - in England at that point. After a no-fun-to-watch stretch setting up Curtis' relationships with his wife and girlfriend Annik, Sam Riley brings Curtis' anguish to life.
After that, Joy Division (Weinstein) balances Control as a look back at Joy Division because it focuses on the other three members - Peter Hook, Bernard Sumner and Stephen Morris. Besides reinforcing Corbijn's depiction of the early days and their relative lack of glamor, the DVD also echoes Corbijn's treatment of them as the other shlubs in the band, guys who wanted to play, but who'd probably have been just as happy playing their favorite covers for beer money if that's the direction the singer would have wanted to go. You get the same sense of the Sex Pistols' Paul Cook and Steve Jones reading histories of the band, and we'd probably find that of many members of famous bands. For many, the desire to play outweighed the importance of what they played.
They weren't just along for the ride; they were normal people who happened to connect with someone who had a distinctive musical voice. That normalcy is underscored by New Order's Live in Glascow (Warner/Rhino). Admittedly, it shows Hook, Sumner and Morris almost 30 years later, and 30 years will normalize anyone, but you know almost all you need to know when Sumner walks onstage wearing an untucked black polo shirt. With short, graying hair and a little middle-aged paunch, he really looks like someone's dad, and only Morris' T-shirt prevents him from looking like a middle manager. Hook's face shows some years of drinking and good living. Still, you can see some charisma. He's someone you might run into in a pub who'd have some good stories to tell and would tell them all night long.
Perhaps its no surprise that I got New Order; it was a pop band, even when "pop" meant long, dance songs. There was no central personality obviously reflected in the material - no solos, no persona, just catchy songs with a far more moderate sense of melancholy than mustered by Joy Division. For that reason, Live in Glasgow is reliably entertaining, but the only memorable moment was Sumner's "dancing" during "Bizarre Love Triangle," which only furthered the impression that he's your friend's uncool dad.
Through this period of contemplation, my disinterest in Joy Division has softened some. I'll chalk it up to familiarity and a handful of chances to find a connection to the material though, because when I listened to Closer recently, I still found my attention waned after three or four songs. The pre-Goth, dour austerity only reaches me in small doses, but I believe its me. I've never had much of a drama streak and I haven't been prone to depression, so the lyrical and musical stance simply isn't very resonant for me.
Bottom line: I've spent hours figuring out that Joy Division isn't for me, though I'm not as down on the band as I was, and the research was reasonably pleasurable.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Ring of Hell follow-up
On June 3, I posted the overheated press release for the book Ring of Hell, the pro wrestling expose focused on Chris Benoit. There was a time when I was more interested in wrestling than I am now, and I saw a great ladder match between Benoit and Chris Jericho in New Orleans, so I was interested in the book for more than just the lurid revelations.
It can't surprise anyone that the world of pro wrestling is cruel, violent, drug-enriched and ego-driven, but the details are still pretty raw, particularly the hazing-like pranks. Writer Matthew Randazzo V also ties the sport to gangsters worldwide, which I suppose you could see coming, though I didn't. You also knew steroids were a significant part of the wrestling story, but again, you probably don't expect the degree to which it plays a role. According to Randazzo, Benoit had a chance to go to the WWE earlier than he did, but because it had just been investigated for steroid abuse, it had a new testing policy, one that would have revealed Benoit's years of steroid use. The book is nearly sad because Benoit's death and final murder spree seem so unnecessary because he watched other friends have their lives shortened by steroid-related illness. Then again, it's hard to imagine a smaller, less built Benoit would have had a career in wrestling. Once he started down the wrestling road, the decisions were largely made.
Still, it was hard to get around the luridness of the writing. As written, everyone's an asshole, everyone's an egomaniac, everyone's a reprobate. Randazzo's flatly declarative writing style stresses everything cheap, foul and tainted about wrestling. Obviously, wrestling gave him a lot to work with, but the writing also feels like a nod to the true crime genre, which is more about revealing the depravity than solving the crime. The jacket notes emphasize Randazzo's birth to an old Sicilian family and expertise in organized crime as if the shadiness must also extend to the writer.
It can't surprise anyone that the world of pro wrestling is cruel, violent, drug-enriched and ego-driven, but the details are still pretty raw, particularly the hazing-like pranks. Writer Matthew Randazzo V also ties the sport to gangsters worldwide, which I suppose you could see coming, though I didn't. You also knew steroids were a significant part of the wrestling story, but again, you probably don't expect the degree to which it plays a role. According to Randazzo, Benoit had a chance to go to the WWE earlier than he did, but because it had just been investigated for steroid abuse, it had a new testing policy, one that would have revealed Benoit's years of steroid use. The book is nearly sad because Benoit's death and final murder spree seem so unnecessary because he watched other friends have their lives shortened by steroid-related illness. Then again, it's hard to imagine a smaller, less built Benoit would have had a career in wrestling. Once he started down the wrestling road, the decisions were largely made.
Still, it was hard to get around the luridness of the writing. As written, everyone's an asshole, everyone's an egomaniac, everyone's a reprobate. Randazzo's flatly declarative writing style stresses everything cheap, foul and tainted about wrestling. Obviously, wrestling gave him a lot to work with, but the writing also feels like a nod to the true crime genre, which is more about revealing the depravity than solving the crime. The jacket notes emphasize Randazzo's birth to an old Sicilian family and expertise in organized crime as if the shadiness must also extend to the writer.
Reviewing Reviewing
Critic Michaelangelo Matos recently wrote about the odd breakthrough he experienced when he purchased a few recent CDs. His discussion of promo CDs and reviewing addressed one of the ironies of reviewing - that reviewers listen to music in very different ways than their readers, largely because they don't buy their CDs.
For example, I'm a Beach Boys fan and bought the Beach Boys reissues in the 1990s. When Dennis Wilson's Pacific Ocean Blue (which I reviewed here) arrived on my desk, I was excited, put it on for a few minutes to check it out, then put it aside for almost a week. Similarly, I was in no hurry to check out the Numero Group's recent entry in the Eccentric Soul series and Sloan's new album, even though I tend to like Sloan and the soul series. Had I bought any of the three, I'm fairly sure I'd have listened to them once I got home if not on the drive. And those who buy or download their music likely don't accumulate 20 to 30 albums at a time, which affects the time spent on an album and the timeliness of attention.
I wonder if the financial investment in a CD makes you inclined to listen to a CD more sympathetically. After all, buying a CD involves seeking it out and often making the effort to go somewhere to purchase it. That effort is motivated by some level of commitment or at least prior interest in the music, which you'd think would translate to the listening experience. We've all bought albums that sucked, but I wonder how many average albums we overrated at the time because we didn't want to admit we'd wasted our money.
For example, I'm a Beach Boys fan and bought the Beach Boys reissues in the 1990s. When Dennis Wilson's Pacific Ocean Blue (which I reviewed here) arrived on my desk, I was excited, put it on for a few minutes to check it out, then put it aside for almost a week. Similarly, I was in no hurry to check out the Numero Group's recent entry in the Eccentric Soul series and Sloan's new album, even though I tend to like Sloan and the soul series. Had I bought any of the three, I'm fairly sure I'd have listened to them once I got home if not on the drive. And those who buy or download their music likely don't accumulate 20 to 30 albums at a time, which affects the time spent on an album and the timeliness of attention.
I wonder if the financial investment in a CD makes you inclined to listen to a CD more sympathetically. After all, buying a CD involves seeking it out and often making the effort to go somewhere to purchase it. That effort is motivated by some level of commitment or at least prior interest in the music, which you'd think would translate to the listening experience. We've all bought albums that sucked, but I wonder how many average albums we overrated at the time because we didn't want to admit we'd wasted our money.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Discipline Kicked In
Not surprisingly, Ted Nugent wrote an editorial response to the Supreme Court's support for the Second Amendment, but it's so self-righteous and aggressively dumb that discipline kicked in and I opted not to post it here. I'm sure you can find it online if you care.
The Structures
I took a few pages of notes at the PotLuck Audio Conference at the beginning of the month, but I didn't feel like I had the time or energy for a notebook dump at the time and now am not sure how far I feel like going through these pages. Here's a semi-random thought and a semi-meditation:
During the Urban Edge producers panel, I wondered if Dr. Dre killed hip-hop as we're used to thinking of it, and if he ushered in the era of hip-hop as pop.
In panel after panel, producers, engineers and artists talked about taking care of your own business, but the language was never sexy. One used a 'selling shoes' metaphor, and Larry Crane referred to the indie revolution as knocking down the mansion to reveal the subdivision behind it. Perhaps because there was nothing sexy in their imagery for the musical future, the audience seemed to miss the message. After the Urban Edge panel, one audience member got up to ask how he could get his demo in the hands of the people at the dais. Someone said, "Thee's nothing we can do for you that you can't do for yourself." The next day at Crane's Future of Music panel, the same thing happened - a guy complained about the lousy A&R he dealt with and wanted to know if they could help.
In the mid-1990s, T-P writer Doug MacCash and I made a documentary, Artists Make Big Money, about the financial realities of making contemporary art. In one of the interviews, Thomas Mann said that most people get into art to avoid the things they have to do in business, when they actually have to do those things and do them better than businesspeople because they have a more idiosyncratic product to sell. No one knows that they need your art. As the questions at PotLuck suggested, we can substitute "music" for "art" and the thought remains on point.
Clearly, people are going to have to adjust how they think about a career in music. Again, the questioners had an investment in a notion of success that involved a sexier life - a big house, a fast car, a hot girl (the conference was a dudefest) - and discussions that treated making music as a job, or one that ends up with a sensible house obviously became white noise for some. That sounds like the questioners want fame more than to make music, but a prolonged existence in music today is going some new metaphors that address the reality that there is a lot of good music being made, but the market and publicity mechanisms are so decentralized that they can't be counted on to work as they once did. What's the new metaphor? The new mechanism? Whoever answers those questions gets a mansion, not a house in the subdivision.
During the Urban Edge producers panel, I wondered if Dr. Dre killed hip-hop as we're used to thinking of it, and if he ushered in the era of hip-hop as pop.
In panel after panel, producers, engineers and artists talked about taking care of your own business, but the language was never sexy. One used a 'selling shoes' metaphor, and Larry Crane referred to the indie revolution as knocking down the mansion to reveal the subdivision behind it. Perhaps because there was nothing sexy in their imagery for the musical future, the audience seemed to miss the message. After the Urban Edge panel, one audience member got up to ask how he could get his demo in the hands of the people at the dais. Someone said, "Thee's nothing we can do for you that you can't do for yourself." The next day at Crane's Future of Music panel, the same thing happened - a guy complained about the lousy A&R he dealt with and wanted to know if they could help.
In the mid-1990s, T-P writer Doug MacCash and I made a documentary, Artists Make Big Money, about the financial realities of making contemporary art. In one of the interviews, Thomas Mann said that most people get into art to avoid the things they have to do in business, when they actually have to do those things and do them better than businesspeople because they have a more idiosyncratic product to sell. No one knows that they need your art. As the questions at PotLuck suggested, we can substitute "music" for "art" and the thought remains on point.
Clearly, people are going to have to adjust how they think about a career in music. Again, the questioners had an investment in a notion of success that involved a sexier life - a big house, a fast car, a hot girl (the conference was a dudefest) - and discussions that treated making music as a job, or one that ends up with a sensible house obviously became white noise for some. That sounds like the questioners want fame more than to make music, but a prolonged existence in music today is going some new metaphors that address the reality that there is a lot of good music being made, but the market and publicity mechanisms are so decentralized that they can't be counted on to work as they once did. What's the new metaphor? The new mechanism? Whoever answers those questions gets a mansion, not a house in the subdivision.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
V's Closing Moments
I just caught the end of V for Vendetta again on HBO and was struck by how, seconds after reminding us that terrorism is a tactic not an ideology, the Wachowski Brothers back the credits with "Street Fighting Man." The juxtaposition is as chilling now as it was the first time I saw it in the theater, with the Stones' classic used to not only speak to revolution - it's done that before - but, by virtue of the Stones' revered place in rock 'n' roll history, to underscore the movie's rationalization of terrorism. That segues into Ethan Stoller's "BKAB," a world electronica track that asks the harder question: Who are you fighting? We are the world, remember?
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Toronto Reggae: the Cougars' "I Wish It Would Rain"
This morning I found a copy of Jamaica to Toronto: Soul Funk & Reggae 1967-1974 that its compiler Sipreano gave me during the EMP Conference in Seattle. He and Light in the Attic Records have done a good job documenting the unlikely reggae scene that started in Toronto's suburbs in the late 1960s. At the EMP Conference, Sipreano's talk included a track that blew me away, and I ran across it this morning on my way to work. When he played the Cougars' cover of "I Wish it Would Rain" at EMP, I caught moderator Garnette Cadogan's eye and started tapping a heartbeat on my chest. The track sounds like a southern soul singer accompanied by a heart monitor, with a hospital-like beep following each thum-thump. The heartbeat is a bassline so low that it's distorting brutally, so much so that it's literally the sound of pounding, not of a melody or harmony instrument. As a result, the song feels almost a cappella until the instrumental passage between the chorus and verse, when a Stax-like horn section treats the phrase as a fanfare. It seems grand after the spare verse and chorus, and makes every return to the voice and heart monitor sound spare and desperate.
More Stupid Stuff
I swear, I'm not going to use this blog as a dumping ground for the more eccentric press releases I receive, but right now, they're catching my eye. Here's an idea for the diabetic who wants to look like what he/she thinks a rock star looks like:
Now, musicians and music lovers with a medical condition, have cool options when it comes to wearing a life-saving medical ID alert! I thought your readers might be interested in hearing about some fashionable and trendy alerts that they will love to show off.
Be a rock star with the new Guitar Pick Medical ID Necklaces from Lauren’s Hope™. This fashionable stainless steel guitar pick necklace is available in sterling silver or black tube and can be custom engraved with up to 3 lines of your medical information.
Lauren's Hope™ is a complete line of interchangeable and stylish medical jewelry for anyone who has a health conditions that require them to wear an alert. Choose from an extensive selection of 14K gold, sterling silver, crystals, pearls, beaded leather, cloth, stones, charms and more. Or, they can even have their very own concept custom designed!
Now, musicians and music lovers with a medical condition, have cool options when it comes to wearing a life-saving medical ID alert! I thought your readers might be interested in hearing about some fashionable and trendy alerts that they will love to show off.
Be a rock star with the new Guitar Pick Medical ID Necklaces from Lauren’s Hope™. This fashionable stainless steel guitar pick necklace is available in sterling silver or black tube and can be custom engraved with up to 3 lines of your medical information.
Lauren's Hope™ is a complete line of interchangeable and stylish medical jewelry for anyone who has a health conditions that require them to wear an alert. Choose from an extensive selection of 14K gold, sterling silver, crystals, pearls, beaded leather, cloth, stones, charms and more. Or, they can even have their very own concept custom designed!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
Another Obama Poem
15.
In Philadelphia.
But what my former pastor too often failed,
A&P refused
unless we solve them together.
I tried to get away
so we can get back to work.
What I do
in a classical experiment the lighting was improved
and signs with the pen and ink
police walking the beat.
Yes - applause -
and thereby perpetuate his false sense of superiority
for this message of unity.
In Philadelphia.
But what my former pastor too often failed,
A&P refused
unless we solve them together.
I tried to get away
so we can get back to work.
What I do
in a classical experiment the lighting was improved
and signs with the pen and ink
police walking the beat.
Yes - applause -
and thereby perpetuate his false sense of superiority
for this message of unity.
Thursday, June 19, 2008
An Interesting Take
I just ran across a post by Donald Munro at ARTicles on live reviews being cut back in the Sacramento Bee. He writes:
A chance comment made by an editor quoted in one of these posts a few weeks ago is still nagging at me. Some readers of the Sacramento Bee were disappointed that an opera review was posted online but didn't run in the print edition. Tom Negrete, the managing editor, said the omission was the result of miscommunication. Still, Negrete says that there will be changes in the paper's review philosophy:
Reviews still will be printed in the paper, he said, particularly of shows with multiple performances.
What he wants to stop are reviews of one-night stands, where a performer or event are long gone by the time the review is published.
On the surface, that sounds perfectly reasonable, right? Why waste space for a performance that won't repeat?
Let's answer that with just two words: sports section.
I admit, I'm closer to the Bee editor's thoughts than Munro's - why tell people about the cool thing they can't see or hear? - and I don't think the sports comparison holds because accounts of one baseball game in a sense advance the next game. You can think of a season as a series of performances.
That said, I'd be sad to see The Times-Picayune stop doing live reviews, and I wish they did more. An concert event is news for the cultural life of the city, just as a city council vote is news for the political life of the city and crimes affect the social life of a city. I'm uncomfortable with seeing an event that draws thousands of people and interests more completely marginalized. Live reviews were also a gateway for me into newspapers, something I cared about in the mass of writing about things I didn't. The reviews suggested that what I cared about mattered, and that others cared to.
But the way live reviews are written contribute to their marginalization. Munro points out how statistic-driven sports stories are, and many live reviews follow the same form, letting recounting the set list substitute for thought. Attempts to recreate the show or to give the review a "you are there" feel are equally unlikely to be effective. Live reviews either need a narrative structure - some drama played out in the night - or an aesthetic bone to chew on. They need something that readers who weren't there can take away besides, "I missed a cool show."
A chance comment made by an editor quoted in one of these posts a few weeks ago is still nagging at me. Some readers of the Sacramento Bee were disappointed that an opera review was posted online but didn't run in the print edition. Tom Negrete, the managing editor, said the omission was the result of miscommunication. Still, Negrete says that there will be changes in the paper's review philosophy:
Reviews still will be printed in the paper, he said, particularly of shows with multiple performances.
What he wants to stop are reviews of one-night stands, where a performer or event are long gone by the time the review is published.
On the surface, that sounds perfectly reasonable, right? Why waste space for a performance that won't repeat?
Let's answer that with just two words: sports section.
I admit, I'm closer to the Bee editor's thoughts than Munro's - why tell people about the cool thing they can't see or hear? - and I don't think the sports comparison holds because accounts of one baseball game in a sense advance the next game. You can think of a season as a series of performances.
That said, I'd be sad to see The Times-Picayune stop doing live reviews, and I wish they did more. An concert event is news for the cultural life of the city, just as a city council vote is news for the political life of the city and crimes affect the social life of a city. I'm uncomfortable with seeing an event that draws thousands of people and interests more completely marginalized. Live reviews were also a gateway for me into newspapers, something I cared about in the mass of writing about things I didn't. The reviews suggested that what I cared about mattered, and that others cared to.
But the way live reviews are written contribute to their marginalization. Munro points out how statistic-driven sports stories are, and many live reviews follow the same form, letting recounting the set list substitute for thought. Attempts to recreate the show or to give the review a "you are there" feel are equally unlikely to be effective. Live reviews either need a narrative structure - some drama played out in the night - or an aesthetic bone to chew on. They need something that readers who weren't there can take away besides, "I missed a cool show."
Nicknames
I just re-read the Ted Nugent commencement address and remembered a truism when I saw him refer to himself as "Uncle Ted." When someone gives him/herself a nickname and uses it, the person has made him/herself a caricature and can't be trusted.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Time Off
In the lull between the primaries and the conventions, I'm taking some time off from following politics too closely. When I have watched, I've just become depressed at the smears of Obama and his wife. Watching television reporters presenting McCain's newest position without mentioning how recently he held the opposite position - without any discussion of more obvious flip-flopping than anything Kerry did - makes me sad. I'm sure I'll get back to the news soon enough.
Here's a follow-up to this morning's post: After I felt fragile about whether or not McCain's reversals will get any attention, here's a story at Slate about exactly that:
"I think John McCain has exhibited the ongoing debate in his own campaign between John McCain and John McCain," said John Kerry, no doubt relishing the chance to tar a Republican with the brush that killed him. "You don't know what he means on torture, taxes, tolerance of Jerry Falwell, changed on drilling. Here you have a flip-flop by John McCain, flipping to the right and then flipping backward."
Here's a follow-up to this morning's post: After I felt fragile about whether or not McCain's reversals will get any attention, here's a story at Slate about exactly that:
"I think John McCain has exhibited the ongoing debate in his own campaign between John McCain and John McCain," said John Kerry, no doubt relishing the chance to tar a Republican with the brush that killed him. "You don't know what he means on torture, taxes, tolerance of Jerry Falwell, changed on drilling. Here you have a flip-flop by John McCain, flipping to the right and then flipping backward."
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
A Perfectly Odd Idea
Right now I'm reading Re-Make/Re-Model: Becoming Roxy Music by Michael Bracewell. When I realized I was 150 pages in and had yet to meet a Roxy member other than Bryan Ferry, I looked ahead and realized that the book only chronicles the first few years of the band in the last hundred pages. Instead, as the subtitle suggests, the book is about the years that led to the formation of Roxy Music and its aesthetic - Ferry, Bryan Eno and Andy Mackay's years in art school. It's hard to imagine anyone but diehard Roxy fans and art school fans caring about the book, but because Ferry's art school years correspond to the emergence of pop art and its aftermath, I've become fascinated by it.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Two Different Things
As much as I love the Beach Boys - particularly the post-Smiley Smile - I'm also amused by how differently those albums sound to fans than they sound to me. Writers admire the albums' beauty; I'm fascinated by the drama you can hear as Carl and Dennis Wilson, Mike Love and Al Jardine struggle to define themselves after the beach and after Brian's definitive statements and breakdown. There are moments of remarkable beauty and startling artistic adventure - much of Sunflower, much of Surf's Up, parts of Friends, much of 20/20, and half of The Beach Boys Love You - and there are moments that seem desperate to reclaim the past - most of Carl and the Passions.
Dennis Wilson's Pacific Ocean Blue has recently been re-released, and here too, that gulf seems to exist. Again, the liner notes writer focuses on the beauty of the songs and particularly the chords Dennis formed on piano. Those chords frame songs that sound to me like a man in existential pain. They're spent, and even the putative uptempo tracks seem like forced joviality. As such, they're compelling, and his raw voice is as compelling in its own way as Carl's, even if it's a far raspier and fragile instrument. There's little joy on the 1978 album, admittedly, but there's also a individual sensibility behind it that's compelling in its sadness.
Dennis Wilson's Pacific Ocean Blue has recently been re-released, and here too, that gulf seems to exist. Again, the liner notes writer focuses on the beauty of the songs and particularly the chords Dennis formed on piano. Those chords frame songs that sound to me like a man in existential pain. They're spent, and even the putative uptempo tracks seem like forced joviality. As such, they're compelling, and his raw voice is as compelling in its own way as Carl's, even if it's a far raspier and fragile instrument. There's little joy on the 1978 album, admittedly, but there's also a individual sensibility behind it that's compelling in its sadness.
Friday, June 13, 2008
After Zappa
I've probably spent too much time thinking about Frank Zappa recently, but the Zappa Plays Zappa show and an interview with Dweezil Zappa I posted at "Pop Life" gave me an occasion to reflect on someone whose music once meant a lot to me. After the show Wednesday, these thoughts:
1) I couldn't believe there were women there. I expected a good crowd, but I've never known a woman who liked Zappa's music.
2) I couldn't believe how many people under 40 were there. I expected old heads and freaks, but his music is so thoroughly absent from the culture today, it's hard to imagine anyone young knowing about it or caring. I suppose he is once again (or maybe has always been) a cult thing, and cults just won't go away.
As for his art, 3) The show reminded me how Swiftian Zappa's satire was, not in its outrageousness but in its privacy. Both could ruthlessly anatomize what's wrong with the world (and both found a lot wrong), but you can't infer from the mockery what people should do - only what they shouldn't.
4) The show in New Orleans leaned too heavily on Joe's Garage for my tastes, but that suite of songs got Dweezil out of his own guitar space enough to inspire his two best solos of the night. "Fembot in a Wet T-Shirt" prompted his most Frank-like solo, and while I didn't want or expect Dweezil to play like Frank, no solo on the Zappa Plays Zappa DVD was as pedestrian (on a high technical level) as many of the fleet finger exercises he settled for in New Orleans.
1) I couldn't believe there were women there. I expected a good crowd, but I've never known a woman who liked Zappa's music.
2) I couldn't believe how many people under 40 were there. I expected old heads and freaks, but his music is so thoroughly absent from the culture today, it's hard to imagine anyone young knowing about it or caring. I suppose he is once again (or maybe has always been) a cult thing, and cults just won't go away.
As for his art, 3) The show reminded me how Swiftian Zappa's satire was, not in its outrageousness but in its privacy. Both could ruthlessly anatomize what's wrong with the world (and both found a lot wrong), but you can't infer from the mockery what people should do - only what they shouldn't.
4) The show in New Orleans leaned too heavily on Joe's Garage for my tastes, but that suite of songs got Dweezil out of his own guitar space enough to inspire his two best solos of the night. "Fembot in a Wet T-Shirt" prompted his most Frank-like solo, and while I didn't want or expect Dweezil to play like Frank, no solo on the Zappa Plays Zappa DVD was as pedestrian (on a high technical level) as many of the fleet finger exercises he settled for in New Orleans.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Another Obama Poem
From the series of Obama poems I'm working on:
3.
And this program.
When they ask "why
tutorials,"
more than ever
it tolls for thee,
American life. Strip him of his personhood.
Lowndes and Wilcox counties in Alabama,
they got me on the run.
I swear I might hijack a plane
until America will no longer have a high blood pressure,
and so I say to you today, in short,
in the pulpit and in the pews.
of black and brown and white children,
work it.
3.
And this program.
When they ask "why
tutorials,"
more than ever
it tolls for thee,
American life. Strip him of his personhood.
Lowndes and Wilcox counties in Alabama,
they got me on the run.
I swear I might hijack a plane
until America will no longer have a high blood pressure,
and so I say to you today, in short,
in the pulpit and in the pews.
of black and brown and white children,
work it.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
More Nugent
I can't help myself. Ted Nugent press releases are like potato chips - you can't stop at one. One poor Detroit high school decided to mentally handicap its graduates by having the last words they hear in their school be his. The Detroit News further gave him credibility by running his speech on its Op-Ed page. Here's what he had to say in all its reductive glory:
Gather around, high school and college graduates, and listen good - real good. What I am about to tell you will help you immensely throughout the rest of your lives if you commit to practicing Uncle Ted's proven modus operandi for a quality of life.
Work
Nobody owes you a thing. Everything you will get out of life will be based solely on what you put into it.
As humorist Mark Twain said, "Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first."
The only free lunches are at the homeless shelter. If you want to dance, you have to pay the band. And you will get what you pay for.
Get a job. If you work hard, real hard, at your favorite craft, you will ultimately succeed. If you are lazy, you will not succeed. Expect to be fired over and over again and aimlessly drift from job to job, your soul as empty as your bank account.
Find your passion in life, your calling, something you crave, that special thing that makes you giddy. Set a goal and never, ever quit. When you get close to the brass ring, move it farther away from your grasp.
Do not complain. Any spineless whiner can do that. Instead, look for solutions to tough problems. This will earn you respect from your boss and get you promoted.
Never do anything for money. Do what you do exceedingly well and thoroughly enjoy, and money will come looking for you.
Be frugal. Live responsibly within your means. Bling-bling is not making ends meet.
Values
Never be afraid to let yourself go and exhibit unbridled raw emotion and enthusiasm. Emotions need exercise. March to the beat of making your own loud and obnoxious guitar breeding noises no matter how many times they tell you to turn down and stop the feedback. Following trends and peer pressure is for mindless sheep that are never happy.
Avoid negative people and slobbering hippies like the plague. They never accomplish anything. Surround yourself with positive people who are better than yourself and will mentor, help and guide you honestly.
If you want to know how others perceive you, look around at whom you associate with. In the end, all you have is your character and integrity. Do not ever compromise or sell them.
Take care of your precious, sacred temple. Eat smart and stay clean. Do not smoke, use drugs, eat or drink too much or chew on glass sandwiches. Partaking in these mindless misadventures will shorten your life.
Find a relaxing hobby to recharge your batteries that has nothing to do with your profession. I have found that peaceful time with family, friends, loved ones and my dogs, fishing, hunting, shooting, setting rocks on fire, giving birth to brass rainbows by shooting machine guns till barrels burn up, and killing sacred protein with sharp sticks recharges my batteries beyond redline. I cleanse my soul as I cleanse the good mother earth by eating her surplus.
Take the time each day to show love and affection for your family and loved ones. The smallest gesture goes straight to the heart.
Never miss an opportunity to say thank you to the men and women in our military and law enforcement. They are the defenders of freedom putting their lives on the line for you so you can reach your American Dream.
Politics
Be intelligently and effectively defiant. Defiance is the very spirit that gave birth to this country when our forefathers fought against overwhelming odds, signed the Declaration of Independence and fired the "shot heard 'round the world." Lock and load. Really.
Remember Rosa Parks. Be prepared to defy stupid laws and regulations wherever you find them. Raise hell. Vote smart.
If you have not made a few well-deserving idiots boil over in anger by the time you are 25, get busy. We live in a target-rich environment of liberal denial.
Famous philosopher and legendary San Francisco police detective, my hero Dirty Harry, once said, "A man has got to know his limitations." This is good advice.
Stand up for what you believe. Remain polite and courteous, but never back down. You have an obligation to leave America in better shape than when you arrived. Work to ensure that future generations of America have a better shot at the American Dream as well as more freedom, more liberty and more pursuits of happiness than you did.
Trust your gut feelings. Only trust people who have earned your trust. Trust but verify. Never trust the French.
Have fun. Life is not a dress rehearsal. Live smart, live good. Rock hard.
Ugh.
Gather around, high school and college graduates, and listen good - real good. What I am about to tell you will help you immensely throughout the rest of your lives if you commit to practicing Uncle Ted's proven modus operandi for a quality of life.
Work
Nobody owes you a thing. Everything you will get out of life will be based solely on what you put into it.
As humorist Mark Twain said, "Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first."
The only free lunches are at the homeless shelter. If you want to dance, you have to pay the band. And you will get what you pay for.
Get a job. If you work hard, real hard, at your favorite craft, you will ultimately succeed. If you are lazy, you will not succeed. Expect to be fired over and over again and aimlessly drift from job to job, your soul as empty as your bank account.
Find your passion in life, your calling, something you crave, that special thing that makes you giddy. Set a goal and never, ever quit. When you get close to the brass ring, move it farther away from your grasp.
Do not complain. Any spineless whiner can do that. Instead, look for solutions to tough problems. This will earn you respect from your boss and get you promoted.
Never do anything for money. Do what you do exceedingly well and thoroughly enjoy, and money will come looking for you.
Be frugal. Live responsibly within your means. Bling-bling is not making ends meet.
Values
Never be afraid to let yourself go and exhibit unbridled raw emotion and enthusiasm. Emotions need exercise. March to the beat of making your own loud and obnoxious guitar breeding noises no matter how many times they tell you to turn down and stop the feedback. Following trends and peer pressure is for mindless sheep that are never happy.
Avoid negative people and slobbering hippies like the plague. They never accomplish anything. Surround yourself with positive people who are better than yourself and will mentor, help and guide you honestly.
If you want to know how others perceive you, look around at whom you associate with. In the end, all you have is your character and integrity. Do not ever compromise or sell them.
Take care of your precious, sacred temple. Eat smart and stay clean. Do not smoke, use drugs, eat or drink too much or chew on glass sandwiches. Partaking in these mindless misadventures will shorten your life.
Find a relaxing hobby to recharge your batteries that has nothing to do with your profession. I have found that peaceful time with family, friends, loved ones and my dogs, fishing, hunting, shooting, setting rocks on fire, giving birth to brass rainbows by shooting machine guns till barrels burn up, and killing sacred protein with sharp sticks recharges my batteries beyond redline. I cleanse my soul as I cleanse the good mother earth by eating her surplus.
Take the time each day to show love and affection for your family and loved ones. The smallest gesture goes straight to the heart.
Never miss an opportunity to say thank you to the men and women in our military and law enforcement. They are the defenders of freedom putting their lives on the line for you so you can reach your American Dream.
Politics
Be intelligently and effectively defiant. Defiance is the very spirit that gave birth to this country when our forefathers fought against overwhelming odds, signed the Declaration of Independence and fired the "shot heard 'round the world." Lock and load. Really.
Remember Rosa Parks. Be prepared to defy stupid laws and regulations wherever you find them. Raise hell. Vote smart.
If you have not made a few well-deserving idiots boil over in anger by the time you are 25, get busy. We live in a target-rich environment of liberal denial.
Famous philosopher and legendary San Francisco police detective, my hero Dirty Harry, once said, "A man has got to know his limitations." This is good advice.
Stand up for what you believe. Remain polite and courteous, but never back down. You have an obligation to leave America in better shape than when you arrived. Work to ensure that future generations of America have a better shot at the American Dream as well as more freedom, more liberty and more pursuits of happiness than you did.
Trust your gut feelings. Only trust people who have earned your trust. Trust but verify. Never trust the French.
Have fun. Life is not a dress rehearsal. Live smart, live good. Rock hard.
Ugh.
McCain Tuesday in Kenner.
Kat and I watched Tuesday night's primary coverage in the Kingpin, and we noticed how small the crowd looked for McCain. Almost everybody picked up on that, assuming he was speaking to a small crowd of invited supporters. Actually, that was the Pontchartrain Center, curtained off to size suitable for the invited public that actually showed up. The announcement was in the Times-Picayune that day.
During his speech, he talked about making the hard choices. The bar wondered "which hard choices" - my take: McCain had the nerve to take both sides on the issues. Greg Sanders at the Huffington Post rips McCain for doing this where Hurricane Katrina is concerned.
During his speech, he talked about making the hard choices. The bar wondered "which hard choices" - my take: McCain had the nerve to take both sides on the issues. Greg Sanders at the Huffington Post rips McCain for doing this where Hurricane Katrina is concerned.
What Happens Next
Now that it looks like Hillary Clinton will finally bow out, the next question is whether America will elect an African American. Friends in the office are skeptical to the point of doomy; I'm less so, for reasons Jeff Chang discusses yesterday's post at Can't Stop Won't Stop.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
More Mail Fun
The temperate language hyping this book on the death of wrestler Chris Benoit caught my eye:
WRESTLING'S DEATH GRIP ON ITS STARS
Non-fiction book Ring of Hell lays bare the unbelievable true story of Chris Benoit and the global pro wrestling racket
Beverly Hills, CA - ”Many people consider the world of wrestling to be a harmless American pastime. Perhaps they should contemplate the alarmingly high death rate among its wrestlers. Phoenix Books presents author Matthew Randazzo V's behind-the-scenes expose of the World Wrestling Entertainment organization, Ring of Hell: The Story of Chris Benoit & The Fall of the Pro Wrestling Industry. Ring of Hell is the story of Chris Benoit, the beloved WWE superstar who stunned America in June of 2007 with the bizarre double-murder of his wife, Nancy, and seven-year-old son, Daniel, in a tragic turn of events that ultimately led to Benoit's suicide.
While the outcomes of the WWE matches are pre-determined, the effort put into those matches takes a huge toll on the wrestlers' bodies. Ring of Hell reveals in heretofore unpublished detail how the pro wrestling industry tempted and encouraged a troubled man to embrace a lifestyle of self-destruction, which included years of heavy amphetamine, steroids, alcohol, painkiller, and psychiatric drug abuse. Benoit was a small man desperately looking to succeed in an industry dominated by giants.
Randazzo writes an uncensored account of how the industry aided Benoit in cultivating his basest qualities until they consumed him, merging the family man so many admired and the self-mutilating wrestling junkie into one. Randazzo conducts countless exclusive interviews with former employees of the WWE, divulging first-hand, eyewitness accounts of the rampant drug abuse, sexual misconduct, organized crime ties, and fatal contempt for the wrestlers in its employ.
Ring of Hell examines and answers the following questions:
What caused the catastrophic psychopathic breakdown of Chris Benoit?
Why does the pro wrestling lifestyle of international TV celebrities come with an occupational mortality rate worse than that of drug dealers?
What has been the daily reality of the average pro wrestler over the past twenty years?
Why have the McMahon family's business practices accumulated such a high body count, and why does it persist?
Are more tragedies like Chris Benoit's inevitable?
Is the pro wrestling industry unsalvageable?
WRESTLING'S DEATH GRIP ON ITS STARS
Non-fiction book Ring of Hell lays bare the unbelievable true story of Chris Benoit and the global pro wrestling racket
Beverly Hills, CA - ”Many people consider the world of wrestling to be a harmless American pastime. Perhaps they should contemplate the alarmingly high death rate among its wrestlers. Phoenix Books presents author Matthew Randazzo V's behind-the-scenes expose of the World Wrestling Entertainment organization, Ring of Hell: The Story of Chris Benoit & The Fall of the Pro Wrestling Industry. Ring of Hell is the story of Chris Benoit, the beloved WWE superstar who stunned America in June of 2007 with the bizarre double-murder of his wife, Nancy, and seven-year-old son, Daniel, in a tragic turn of events that ultimately led to Benoit's suicide.
While the outcomes of the WWE matches are pre-determined, the effort put into those matches takes a huge toll on the wrestlers' bodies. Ring of Hell reveals in heretofore unpublished detail how the pro wrestling industry tempted and encouraged a troubled man to embrace a lifestyle of self-destruction, which included years of heavy amphetamine, steroids, alcohol, painkiller, and psychiatric drug abuse. Benoit was a small man desperately looking to succeed in an industry dominated by giants.
Randazzo writes an uncensored account of how the industry aided Benoit in cultivating his basest qualities until they consumed him, merging the family man so many admired and the self-mutilating wrestling junkie into one. Randazzo conducts countless exclusive interviews with former employees of the WWE, divulging first-hand, eyewitness accounts of the rampant drug abuse, sexual misconduct, organized crime ties, and fatal contempt for the wrestlers in its employ.
Ring of Hell examines and answers the following questions:
What caused the catastrophic psychopathic breakdown of Chris Benoit?
Why does the pro wrestling lifestyle of international TV celebrities come with an occupational mortality rate worse than that of drug dealers?
What has been the daily reality of the average pro wrestler over the past twenty years?
Why have the McMahon family's business practices accumulated such a high body count, and why does it persist?
Are more tragedies like Chris Benoit's inevitable?
Is the pro wrestling industry unsalvageable?
Monday, June 2, 2008
Give in to your Worst Instincts
Sonic Youth is about to release Hits Are For Squares, a limited edition, Starbucks-only CD that collects songs from SY's storied history as chosen by celebrity friends and fans.
The premise has two drawbacks. One is that famous fans seem to like the same songs as everybody else, so there are few big surprises here. The stars also give the CD a Cool Kids Club vibe, as the band seems to surround itself with indie cinema heroes and musical peers who are all just too damned hip. Is a song any more noteworthy if Portia De Rossi or David Cross likes it? See below, enjoy a half-soy, half-skim decaf fair trade latte and enjoy the ambient self-satisfaction.
Tracklist:
“Bull in the Heather” selected by Catherine Keener
“100%” selected by Mike D
“Sugar Kane” selected by Beck
“Kool Thing” selected by Radiohead
“Disappearer” selected by Portia De Rossi
“Superstar” selected by Diablo Cody
“Stones” selected by Allison Anders
“Tuff Gnarl” selected by Dave Eggers and Mike Watt
“Teenage Riot” selected by Eddie Vedder
“Shadow of a Doubt” selected by Michelle Williams
“Rain on Tin” selected by Flea
“Tom Violence” selected by Gus Van Zant
“Mary-Christ” selected by David Cross
“World Looks Red” selected by Chloe Sevigny
“Expressway to Yr Skull” selected by Flaming Lips
“Slow Revolution” exclusive new Sonic Youth recording
The premise has two drawbacks. One is that famous fans seem to like the same songs as everybody else, so there are few big surprises here. The stars also give the CD a Cool Kids Club vibe, as the band seems to surround itself with indie cinema heroes and musical peers who are all just too damned hip. Is a song any more noteworthy if Portia De Rossi or David Cross likes it? See below, enjoy a half-soy, half-skim decaf fair trade latte and enjoy the ambient self-satisfaction.
Tracklist:
“Bull in the Heather” selected by Catherine Keener
“100%” selected by Mike D
“Sugar Kane” selected by Beck
“Kool Thing” selected by Radiohead
“Disappearer” selected by Portia De Rossi
“Superstar” selected by Diablo Cody
“Stones” selected by Allison Anders
“Tuff Gnarl” selected by Dave Eggers and Mike Watt
“Teenage Riot” selected by Eddie Vedder
“Shadow of a Doubt” selected by Michelle Williams
“Rain on Tin” selected by Flea
“Tom Violence” selected by Gus Van Zant
“Mary-Christ” selected by David Cross
“World Looks Red” selected by Chloe Sevigny
“Expressway to Yr Skull” selected by Flaming Lips
“Slow Revolution” exclusive new Sonic Youth recording
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