WARNING: if you still haven't seen the series finale of Lost, this post will spoil it for you. Read on at your own risk.
The writers of Lost have my respect. They’ve done what I routinely struggle to do: weave a story that satisfies only enough to get folks riled up about how unsatisfactory the end of the story is.
I had that same knee-jerk reaction so many viewers – and some of my own friends – had when, by the end, they were all dead. All we were left with was some sugar-coated allegory based around a theme of “letting go” and “moving on,” while it was never clear what really happened. And the idea of bringing polar bears to the island, while already explained, kind of, is still a big WTF.
But then, that really seems to be one of the points of the entire series I’m seeing. The human imagination itself is something to marvel at, and whether we like the explanations behind the visions, the visions themselves really were enough, weren't they?
Working further down the theme ladder from the highest level – the idea that no matter how lonely, flawed or hopeless one might be, there are kindred spirits all around with whom you can bond and learn to prop each other up – it seems that the island and its opposing forces, Jacob and his miserable nameless brother (you’d be miserable too if the only names you ever answered to were “brother,” “The Man in Black,” “the smoke monster” or the name of whatever dead person you decided to make yourself look like) were using regular human beings as pawns in their power play. Kind of a typical good vs. evil plot line that we grew up watching as kids on cartoons, but this time, we were never really sure which side was the good side until the last season. And even at that, few of us were ready to forgive all the questionable tactics of the “good guys.” Kind of like the real world.
I’ll probably buy the complete 6-season DVD set when it comes out, and then I’ll dig deeper into the little details. But for now, since I’ve cooled down over the surface bits that disappointed me – i.e. seeing Sawyer reunited with Juliet (what a mismatch!); never really finding out what the “real” timeline (assuming there ever was one) looked like upon the return of Kate, Sawyer, Lupitas, Miles and Claire; never knowing whether Desmond did get to leave the island, and if so, how it would have happened – I realize that this was a genius way to end Lost. Just like any other storyline, it could have gone on forever. But leaving it the way it did just reminded me of all the times I’ve felt the same way upon the conclusion of a movie with multiple unresolved plot lines. At some point, you have to call it quits. And when you do, a great measure of success is how pissed off the audience is over their pet plot line not being resolved. In that regard, it appears that Lost was a huge success. We cared that much to actually get pissed off.
From a personal standpoint, however, I’m a bit shook up.
I saw a lot of myself in Jack Shepard. And it hit a little too close to home when, of all the main characters, he was the very last one to “get it.” The man of science finally understood the importance of “letting go” and “moving on” at the end of that controversial “purgatory” scene, the culmination of all the “flash sideways” scenes. And at that moment, in death, he achieved what he struggled to do in life.
It shook me up because there are some things in life for which I struggle in much the same way, and often fear that I will not overcome. But then, intellectually I've always known the answer is to “let go.” That’s why I’m reading Larry Winget. That’s why I started taking swing dance lessons. That’s why I’ve latched on so hard to the music of Ash Reiter, not to mention the vibe and friendship of her entire band, this year. And that’s why, not even knowing how this whole saga would finally end, I bought Lara De Garie’s painting “About Patterns” (pictured above) and hung it on my living room wall just 12 days before the Lost finale aired.
I think I get it now, too.
Thanks to my friend Victoria for steering me over to Screen Rant's take, my fuzzy impressions of the conclusion of Lost have been cleared up even further. This is the best take I've seen so far. Enjoy!
When I start feeling annoyed at reading the same tired rants over and over, that’s usually a sign that it’s time to speak up – either to say “shut up!” or something a little more intelligent. I’d like to think I’m hitting the mark of the latter here.
There have been, and will continue to be, loads and loads of articles about privacy concerns on Facebook. You can find them with little to no effort by entering the words “Facebook” and “privacy” in the search field of Google’s news site. Or you can just click here, since that’s what you really want to do, isn’t it?
The latest, and potentially most explosive, entry in this “news cycle” is the release of an alleged IM conversation between Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg and an unnamed friend. The conversation supposedly took place when Zuckerberg was 19, and given his age at the time, I wouldn’t be surprised if the epithet he supposedly gave to his users at the time was true. Kids at that age can be an impulsive, impolitic bunch.
Though Facebook has since issued a statement to clarify its official stance on user privacy, there’s another issue here that few people seem to be acknowledging: online privacy is NOT news!
After over a decade and a half of mainstream news reports of the havoc wreaked by hackers and spammers, have we not gotten the message that no matter what online service we use, we are all at risk for an invasion of privacy when we submit our personal information to an online service?
No matter how secure an online service is, you are *always* at risk for a privacy invasion. If the company isn’t willing to sell the information to third parties, a hacker may still find a way to steal it. It’s the same reality we deal with when we walk the city streets – no matter who is watching out for us, whether it’s the police or privately-hired security officers, we’re always at risk to be mugged or roughed up in some way. It’s a fact of life.
Not to take away from Facebook’s responsibilities towards its users – the company’s users have every right to keep Facebook in a position to prove itself, and if the company wants to be successful, it will find a way to go above and beyond what’s expected, both in terms of satisfying its user base and its bottom line.
But when it comes down to basics, it’s very simple. The best protector of your online privacy is you. If you don’t feel comfortable having your age determine what products are marketed to you on Facebook, don’t share your year of birth. If you don’t want the world to see those pictures of you getting drunk with transvestite hookers, then don’t upload them! Even if Facebook prevents them from coming up in Google searches, who’s to say that one of your “friends” won’t download the photos and then share them somewhere else that *will* allow Google to index them in searches? There’s only so much Facebook can do. The rest is up to you.
If you ever run into a jam trying to figure out whether you should share something online, there’s a really simple test you can apply. I learned this non-technical exercise from a particularly tech-savvy ex-girlfriend of mine. Ask yourself, “would I want my mother to see this?”
There you go. Now stop worrying and enjoy the web. It’s really fun when you realize just how much control of the experience you really do have.
The home stretch for SXSW began on Friday with another tip from Pigeon O’Brien – this time, it was Jimmy LaFave, another local singer/songwriter/guitarist and a favorite of Pigeon’s, performing at the Red House Records showcase at Mother Egan’s Irish Pub. Josh stayed behind till the evening, but Levi was free so we started the day without him. Jimmy’s set was low key, subdued, and very twangy. His sound made for some really interesting and original Dylan covers (“Love Minus Zero/No Limit” and “Tomorrow Is A Long Time”), and worked especially well on his set closing rendition of John Waite’s big ‘80s hit “Missing You.”
It was the middle of the day, and after a set like Jimmy’s, it only seemed appropriate to kick it up a notch with a quick stop at Hoek’s for some Death Metal Pizza. Actual toppings on my slice were cheese, olives, sausage and sliced jalapeños, and true to the place’s theme, I was welcomed by a sweet blast of Slayer’s “Hate Worldwide” as I placed my order. I had one guy on my left enthusiastically talking up his death metal band, due to play inside that evening, and the guy who was about to give me window service rudely proclaiming “I’ll get to you when I get a chance!” when I asked if it would be better for me to wait in the line that was leading inside. I laughed it off, since the ‘tude was in perfect sync with the music, and he did stay true to his word and actually didn’t make me wait long at all. And the pizza was good. Can’t go wrong with jalapeños.
From there, Levi showed me the pedestrian paths that took us from the edge of downtown by the riverside over to Auditorium Shores. It was a roundabout route, and perfect in length for taking in the natural elements of Austin that you won’t find anywhere on 6th Street. There were folks canoing in the river, bicyclists all around, colorful plants and mounds of large turtles – more than I’ve ever seen clustered together outside of a pet store. I grew up near a pond that had some tiny little snappers, but they were very elusive and didn’t care to be seen much. These big guys in Austin were practically showing off.
By the time we made it to the bicycle valet at Auditorium Shores, the gates were just opening – perfect timing. We found a good spot at the edge of the general admission area, passed on the selection of Stetson hats, and invited gawkers with some huge 2-foot tall “margaritas” – if there was alcohol in there, it wasn’t evident.
The Ray Johnston Band, from Dallas, opened with some really cheesy songs about cougars and texting. At least the sax player sounded good. The less said about everything else in the set, the better.
Next up was Cracker – looking and sounding a little haggard these days, but no worse for wear and tear. The new songs sounded just as solid as the old ones, and leave it to those wise asses to open their set with their best known hit (“Low”) rather than saving it for last. Nice one. Glad to know they're still kickin’ around.
I had heard of the BoDeans, but their set at Auditorium Shores was actually the first time I had paid any attention to them. One song in their set sounded vaguely familiar, but other than that, their mix of rock, Tex Mex, country and folk left me thinking that maybe the guys in Los Lonely Boys were fans. It wasn’t totally my cup of tea, but they gave off a good vibe and they did exactly what a good opening band should do – they got the crowd riled up for the big headliners.
And those big headliners were the biggest draw for me at SXSW – Cheap Trick. I hadn’t seen them perform live since 2004, and lamented every year I missed them. Even with Bun E. Carlos ceding his drum duties to Rick Nielson’s son Dax (who’s far from a slouch and does Bun E. proud), this set more than made up for CT’s refusal to play in San Francisco since the day I moved there. From spotlighting half of their new album, The Latest(Rick reminded us that it's "the number one 8-track in the world!" and he's right - nobody else bothered to release an album in the 8-track format in 2009), to playing exactly half of my favorite CT album (their 1977 debut, Cheap Trick), the band showed more vigor than I remembered they had. They made Auditorium Shores feel like Glastonbury or Coachella, only far more laid back and comfortable than I imagine either of those two places would have been.
Rick also made a point of acknowledging Alex Chilton, who had died unexpectedly two days earlier. Cheap Trick’s cover of Big Star’s Alex Chilton-penned “In The Street” was used as the theme for "That ‘70s Show" and not only raised both band’s profiles, but also became another Cheap Trick concert favorite in the process. So Rick, who by the sound of his voice was clearly moved by the loss of Alex, dedicated “Sleep Forever,” “Heaven Tonight,” and of course “In The Street” to Alex. By the end of the set though, they were in classic Cheap Trick party mode, ending with an encore that included “He’s a Whore,” “Dream Police” and “Gonna Raise Hell.” I’d say it was the best Cheap Trick show I’ve seen since 1998, and I’ve seen them about 15 or 16 times at this point.
But it didn’t stop there. Levi, Josh and I headed straight towards yet another event after Cheap Trick’s set ended around 9:45 or so. We ended up at a party celebrating the birthday and the CD release of a beatboxing electronica artist by the name of Maestro over at a co-op near the UT campus. It was a slow-building event filled with beer, dancing, and people putting things into their bodies that made them act a bit shady. But it was a load of fun, enough to keep us awake till an hour I hadn’t witnessed with my eyes open probably since that night I didn’t sleep while waiting for the Super Shuttle to cart me off to my European flight last August.
Had the temperature in Austin not dipped down into the 30s on Saturday, I would have returned to Auditorium Shores to catch She & Him. It was freezing, and nobody wanted to venture outside in that weather, not even me. By Sunday, it was comfortable enough for a stroll outside again, but most out-of-towners were at the airport or hitting the road to return home, leaving Austin a little quieter and less lively, or as Levi put it, “more like how it really is.”
Cheap Trick's set list - Auditorium Shores, Austin, TX, 3/19/10
Hello There
Elo Kiddies
Welcome To The World
I Want You To Want Me
These Days
Wrong All Along
Sleep Forever
Heaven Tonight
In The Street
Taxman, Mr. Thief
The Ballad of TV Violence (I'm Not The Only Boy)
Oh Candy
Miracle
Miss Tomorrow
Sick Man of Europe
Closer, The Ballad of Burt and Linda
Surrender
Encore:
The Flame
Dream Police
He's a Whore
Gonna Raise Hell
Goodnight Now
My third day in Austin turned out to be the busiest day of the week, and the first in which Josh joined me for some shows.
Thanks to Pigeon O’Brien, a passionate Austin-based publicist who is not only a friend of Popdose but also one of the funniest people on Twitter, I was tipped to an event she organized at the West 6th Street location of Opal Divine's. She assembled a lineup of local roots and Americana musicians she represents, for the brief period I was there, I got to hear short sets by Betty Soo and Dustin Welch. I also finally met Pigeon in person for the first time. She was so happy to have one of her tweeps in attendance that she even gave me an on-stage shout out, which brought a big smile to my face. Those kinds of things never get old. She was just as cool in person as her online persona led me to believe, and hearing the artists she represents perform live gave me a more vivid feel for what local Americana artists in Texas are all about.
While my heartstrings weren’t being tugged particularly hard by the music at Opal Divine's, the music was well presented and made me feel at home. Basically, there are a couple more artists I feel compelled to check out now, namely the two in the showcase I missed that I wanted to see most – Steve Poltz and Walt Wilkins. That was probably the biggest impact the show had on me, though the proverbial bouncy ball alternately led me and followed me to a couple other places, as you’ll see in a bit.
When Josh and I left Opal Divine's, our intention was to catch a set by Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings at the Mohawk. Unfortunately, they had already finished their set before we got there. On the upside though, we caught an intense, raucous, loud and droney headlining set by an Austin band called the Black Angels. Josh really took to them, and I’m ready to hear how their studio recordings compare to their live sound. They had me transfixed. Always a good sign.
After some roadside pizza and some time to relax, I headed back downtown, this time alone. I hadn’t purchased a badge or a wristband, having missed my early bird opportunities and then ultimately deciding that I’d rather just wing it anyway. Not having that special fancy pass was ultimately what doomed my attempt to check out Damien Marley and Nas at Emo’s at the last minute. But no matter, Louisville’s Wax Fang sounded pretty tight when I saw them instead over at Valhalla. The song I heard outside the venue that drew me in wasn’t topped by what I heard inside, so I’m not sure what happened there. But I wouldn’t be upset if I saw them again opening for a band like the Twilight Singers or Queens of the Stone Age. I’d have to hear more to get a better sense of what I was really witnessing.
Heading back outside again, I grabbed a BBQ brisket sandwich and witnessed a one-man band (bass drum, hi hat, guitar and vocals) covering John Lee Hooker and Buddy Holly tunes, among others in that old time blues and ‘50s rock n’ roll genre, albeit with some punk-ish energy. Dude was pretty damned entertaining, though I unfortunately didn’t catch his name.
After heading back to Josh’s, I managed to drag him out again to catch the final act playing at the Continental Club, a guy by the name of Ian Moore who appears to call both Seattle and Austin home. He had what seemed like a pretty balanced mix of rock, blues and country that sounded perfectly at home after 1am in Texas bar – nothing earth shattering, but perfect for the occasion and I’m pretty certain everyone in attendance was happy with what they heard. The best part for me was when the evening coincidentally came full circle when Dustin Welch, who I had seen earlier in the day at Opal Divine’s, took the stage as a guest towards the end of Ian’s set. And then, outside the venue, Josh and I ended up talking with a local who casually informed us that Frosty would be playing the next night. I asked him, "do you mean theFrosty, the one who drummed for Lee Michaels in the late '60s?" Yup, that Frosty. Unfortunately, his set clashed with the one show I wanted to see most while in Austin, but at least now I know where to look for him when I'm ready to catch up on all things Lee Michaels, something I've been meaning to do ever since I moved to California.
Actually, what was even better than all of this was being able to grab some pizza at Home Slice well after Ian Moore’s set had concluded. It was probably some amount of time after 2 in the morning, and the Home Slice parking lot on South Congress was abuzz as if it was New York City on any given night. After several beers and many miles walked to catch all sorts of music I had never heard before, a slice of margherita really hit the spot. This could have easily been the peak of the week, but that would actually happen the next night.
It seems absurd on the surface, but I actually made the trip to SXSW as a means of relaxation. Looking at the various schedules of conferences, films and live music events was anything but relaxing, and figuring out exactly how I was going to navigate this behemoth of a festival ended up stressing me out all over again.
I had planned on spending the day before my flight assembling a matrix of events I’d like to see so I’d have an easy to reference road map of what interested me, thus narrowing down the infinite options to a manageable handful or three.
Yeah, right.
My focus was on anything but filtering all the information I had stumbled upon, so in the end I simply marked up a printout of a spreadsheet of unofficial events, referred back to the official SXSW web site when I could, and winged all the rest. Though I missed a few shows I would have liked to have attended (not to mention any and all films that looked interesting to me – maybe next time), approaching SXSW with a loose idea of what I’d like to see and an “anything goes” attitude for everything in between seemed to be exactly what the week called for. And being that I was staying with my friend Josh the whole week, keeping things loose made sense in that regard too. It allowed us a balance between going out and chilling out that might not have been as easy to get into had I ended up sharing a hotel with hardcore festival goers.
I considered the hotel option, but that only would have worked if this was a work trip. I made no plans to cover this festival in any way, and even though this post kind of does that, it kind of doesn’t either. As you’re about to see, my view from the ground is pretty modest in terms of following the pulse of the festival compared to other accounts you’ll read.
Tuesday the 16th was the day I arrived, and rather than head straight into the action, I started off the week away from the fray, with a guitar in my hand. After Josh and I rendezvoused with our friends Nate and Levi for some dinner, we headed back to Levi’s place for a little jamming. We mostly stuck to simple two chord progressions, with Nate setting the tone on an electric keyboard, Levi fleshing out the sound on piano, and Josh switching between another electric keyboard and sharing the piano with Levi. I stuck to acoustic guitar, picking out melodies, scales and progressions to complement the hypnotic minor chords flowing all around me. This went on for a good long while, though I couldn’t really say how long. Time stood still I suppose. Suffice to say, it was a great little session that left me feeling higher than any recreational substance might have achieved. I really couldn’t have imagined a better start to the week.
While Josh took care of some business during the day on Wednesday, I got my first taste of the many completely free daytime shows that were happening all week. First stop was at the Red Eyed Fly, where I ran into all three of the Happy Hollows during and after an awesome set by The Henry Clay People on the Red Eyed Fly’s outside stage. The Henry Clay People are an L.A. band whose name has been dropped around me numerous times, and it's funny that it took a trip to Austin for me to finally see them. They had that fire in their belly, and I’m pretty sure I’ll be seeing them again on the west coast.
Of course I knew the Happy Hollows would be at the Red Eyed Fly (it was the first of eight shows they played in Austin that week), so I made a point of being there to show some support and congratulate them on all the success they’ve had so far (most recently, they had a brief cameo appearance the previous night on ABC’s Parenthood). But before their set (which was typically awesome, no need for me to gush any more than I already do), the Austin band Brazos played a short but impressive set on the inside stage. They’re a trio, like many of the indie rock bands playing the festival, and though I don’t remember many specifics about their set, I can say that for a trio, they had an intriguing mix of subdued vibes and semi-confident energy. I’d see them again for sure.
Not taking notes didn’t serve me well for the last band I saw at the Red Eyed Fly before meeting back up with Josh, but I was moved in a very positive direction by the lead singer’s pronouncement of death to that terrible old feeling called fear. His invective encouraged me to stab that invisible beast a few more times in the heart, and as you’d imagine, a good rest would be needed after such a purging. And that’s just what the rest of the night had in store – chilling out, talking, resting and relaxing. There would be a ton more to come.
Back in 2008, Brian Wilson released his brilliant follow-up to SMiLE, a song cycle he called That Lucky Old Sun. In the last verse of the last song on the album, "Southern California," there's a lyric that continues to jog the "sick humor" area in my brain to this day:
Surfers in the West
The sun ran into the sea
As we headed home
We drove into a movie
Our brains have this habit of filling in the blanks, anticipating what logic tells us could or should come next. In the case of this particular lyric, my brain, for whatever strange reason, believed when I first listened to this song that the last word in this lyric wasn't going to be "movie." No, not at all. Had Brian's vocal suddenly cut out after the indefinite article and left me to sing the rest, not knowing how he was going to finish the lyric, this is how it would have come out of my mouth:
Surfers in the West
The sun ran into the sea
As we headed home
We drove into a tree
Suddenly, the entire song has a different tone.
Here's Brian performing "Southern California" live at Abbey Road in 2008. It's an abridged performance (he skipped the second verse and the bridge), but the important verse is still there. Somehow I doubt he'd ever adopt my version.
Writing letters back and forth to friends - not just simple functional emails - sometimes will jog my brain into realizations or, at the very least, finding a way to articulate realizations I've felt but not yet verbalized. This bit from a letter-via-email I sent today, stemming from a friend's advice to take two months to stop analyzing things that have gone awry for me, is one that I thought would be worth sharing.
When I went to my swing dance lesson on Tuesday, I kept fretting over not getting my foot movements right. I mouthed "shit!" to myself, and the female instructor saw me do it. She was looking at my feet from across the room the entire time, and so she looked back up at me and mouthed "you're OK" and gave the thumbs up.
Later in the lesson, after being corrected a few times by the male instructor while I was dancing with my partner, he came back to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, "Mike, forget everything I just told you. Just dance how you feel. You've already got it all up in your head, so just go for it." It was a timely echo of what you had said, and it does make sense in a way – it's hard to allow yourself to gradually ease what you've learned into practice if you don't stop studying for a little while. Even my mother had told me that, back when she was working on her master's – "studying too much can be just as bad as not studying enough." I just hadn't yet encountered a situation in real life where I felt it held true for me. Now I have.
...and I was going to end with a profoundly related music video right about now, but the song I was looking for isn't represented anywhere on the 'net as an embeddable video (at least that I could find). Paul McCartney's "Dance Tonight" isn't related to anything I just wrote, other than having the word "dance" in the title and lyrics, but what the hell. This is a damn cool video, one I hadn't seen till today, that totally enhances the song. It's what a good video should do. Dig those ghosts and the nerve-wracked postman as Paul keeps his cool throughout. The ending is the payoff - it's a party I would have loved to attend.
A valuable quote by Leonardo da Vinci that was spotlighted in my current studies:
"Every now and then go away, have a little relaxation, for when you come back to your work your judgment will be surer. Go some distance away because then the work appears smaller and more of it can be taken in at a glance and a lack of harmony and proportion is more readily seen."
This is especially important for those who, like myself, believe that "harmony is a monument." Dissonance is beautiful in its own way, and I love it in some of its forms as well. But if I had to choose an abundance of one over the other, it would be harmony, all the way.
I'm not what you'd call a John Mayer "fan." I only own and enjoy one album of his, the solid live album Try! - it's the one where he plays in a blues rock trio setting with drummer Steve Jordan (Keith Richards & The X-Pensive Winos) and bassist Pino Palladino (The Who).
I've heard parts of Continuum and thought it was pretty good. But his earlier stuff never did much for me other than cause me to feel annoyed. So I was happy when he ditched his breathy acoustic pop schtick for a little while to open up his throat and belt out some soulful, rockin' blues. Everyone deserves a reevaluation when they really "try" and step outside their usual patterns.
Likewise, in spite of the uproar that emerged across Twitter and everywhere else that harbors a distaste for the 'n' word, I think John deserves another reevaluation from the haters.
First though, John was stupid to even bother to say that one offending two-syllable word in his Playboy interview (I've yet to read the full piece, but first heard of the whole affair at Billboard).
Second, John knows he was stupid to say what he said, in spite of his good intentions, and wisely issued a public apology very quickly.
Third, and most important of all, is what I see when looking past his clunky style of expressing himself lately. I did read the full Rolling Stone interview (highlights are available at the RS website) in the February 4 issue, the one where he says he's looking for "The Joshua Tree of vaginas." Eric Clapton, when commenting on John's music, says, "I think he becomes too caught up in being clever." Well, the exact same thing can be said about the way he represents himself to the press.
John understands that "being clever" is a sure way to get attention, and if he's ever going to "close out this life-partner thing," which he really wants to do just like a whole bunch of the rest of us, well, putting himself out there and getting attention is still a whole lot more effective than sitting alone in his room practicing scales all day.
As men, we're constantly thrown mixed signals. "Be nice." "Be yourself." We try to be nice, we try to be ourselves, and then we get nowhere. "Be original." "Be strong." We pull out clever, original words and make strong statements, and then get skewered for it. We can't win.
Looking past his style, I see John as just a regular dude who got really lucky in the music business and is now trying to come to terms with his unluckiness in the love department by stepping up his attention-getting game. And he's stumbled very publicly. Most of us have the luxury of being able to stumble without millions of people around the world knowing about it. But that was a risk he took, and admit it - it took some balls. Now the whole world knows that he doesn't completely have his game together with the ladies. On the flip side, however, he might start attracting sound advice now on how to get this part of his life figured out. If he's wise enough to listen, he might have inadvertently stumbled upon a solution to his problems.
I think deep down, John's a good guy. I bet he'd be fun to hang out with and have a few beers. And I'd welcome the opportunity to interview him, if only to try throwing in some encouragement to do another record like Try! He's got a gift, and has the blessing of masters like Clapton, B.B. King and Herbie Hancock. We gotta fight the good fight to keep great music alive, and knowing that he has it in him to do just that, he needs to know from as many of us as possible that this could be his life mission. Sticking to it and not wavering from it for a second will not only ensure that his career has lasting power beyond first-week sales, it will also very likely help him to "close out this life-partner thing." It doesn't seem like an intuitive thought, but it's one that men much wiser than myself have been saying. It's one to take on faith if it can't be understood right away.
John, dude, hang in there. And yes, do filter yourself a little more, but not so much that you stop being interesting and funny. Just, you know, don't say the 'n' word anymore. OK? Cool.
(This entry is reprinted in its entirety from the original post at Popdose.)
And so we’ve reached that final milestone – just as I promised back in June, we have now completed 26 episodes of Parlour to Parlour, one for each week of the second half of 2009.
When I started this project more than thirteen months ago, I was reacquainting myself with the workings of that nifty device known as the portable video camera. My old buddy Scott was in the middle of a 5-week stay at my place (at that time) in San Francisco’s Lower Haight district, and while he was down on his luck and not up to his usual standards of motivation during his stay, he perked up not just at the prospect of working out with me at the gym, but also to exercise some of his camcorder knowledge by helping me transfer some Hi8 video to Mini DV so I could easily import the footage into my Mac. That footage, which I shot as Scott looked on, eventually became Episode 0 – it was meant only as a practice run to get my feet wet again.
Of course, once I started having serious discussions with Brandon Kane, an independent film director and screenwriter down in the Phoenix area who I have considered a close friend since that fateful bonding moment we had on our second day working together at Brown University – September 11, 2001 – it became clear to me that it would probably be OK to use this footage for the actual project. Brandon knows my eyes are pretty good, but his are infinitely better, and if it weren’t for his feedback, Episode 0 would probably still be sitting in a box underneath my desk.
And the subjects of that pre-episode – Chris Robley and the Fear of Heights – were also friends. Scott and I both knew Chris from our formative days growing up in Rhode Island’s East Greenwich school district. I know a lot of us have differing opinions on what it was like going through that system, but speaking only for myself, I can confidently say that, while it wasn’t perfect, it was worth whatever hassles there were if only for the few lifelong friends who came out of it with me. Even if I could only claim one friend from the experience, it would have been worth it.
And so began the Parlour to Parlour journey, ensconced among friends who were enthusiastic about the idea and excited to see how it would unfold.
In a sense, I knew in some general ways just how it would unfold. Most artists I contacted would be game, some would not, and overall we’d all have a good time putting these episodes together. Given that I chose all these artists based on the fact that I actually liked their music and wanted to give them another unique forum to show it off, it was also hardly surprising that, following sessions where I’d be hearing a song played at least twice as I recorded it, these songs would be stuck in my head for weeks after our sessions had ended, effectively providing part of my soundtrack for the year.
I did have a feeling that, given how much energy I was putting into this project, I’d probably not be in any position to wrap my head around a ‘best of the year’ or ‘best of the decade’ contribution to Popdose. Sure enough, when the call came around, I couldn’t be bothered. Parlour to Parlour was the here, the now, and the sole focus. For once, my love of history was put on the back burner, and aside from a small tinge of guilt in the back of my head, I really didn’t mind.
But even with the amount of planning I put into this project from the outset, some things simply could not be predicted. There were some subjects who went way above and beyond the call of duty in their levels of graciousness and hospitality – they know who they are. And of course, when these folks (and all Parlour to Parlour subjects, for sure) are swingin’ through my neighborhood, they all know that they have a place to stay if they need it.
I took a chance with this one, but it paid off handsomely – given how much has been said over the past year about the demise of MySpace in light of the rise of Facebook and Twitter, who would have thought that MySpace would be the single most effective tool I had in reaching out to these artists? In most cases, tour schedules were more up-to-date on their MySpace profiles than on their regular web sites (for those who still have regular web sites, that is), which made scheduling a lot easier. That they were also checking their mail regularly and actually responding was proof positive to me that, while MySpace may have died as the dominant social networking platform, it’s still very much alive and well as a networking community for independent musicians. Plus, how great is it that you can stream their tunes in full with minimal hassle on a MySpace profile and find out right then and there whether you want to spend more time listening, attending their shows, and keeping up with them in general? Don’t count MySpace out just yet.
And then there were all the other circumstantial unknowns… like the opportunity for me to move to a new apartment just four months into the project. Or the giddy feeling that would pulse through me each time I reviewed the footage of my most recent shoot. Or how much stress I would be feeling during that period where I was both editing final episodes on a regular schedule and making arrangements to shoot the last six, yet too proud/stupid/oblivious to do something about it, and failing to speak up and realize how it was affecting at least one very important person in my life. Or how heavily I would rely on the audio mastering expertise of Popdose’s own Ted Asregadoo, to the point where I ate into his Mix Six schedule. Or that I would grow so close to lighting assistant Rebecca Stewart that many of my highest highs and lowest lows during the course of the project would be attributed to her presence. But of course, that’s just how it works – the lowest lows always happen on account of the highest highs, and I wouldn’t trade back those highs for anything (except perhaps the opportunity for a do-over with newly acquired wisdom – to be more present-minded – to make those highs even higher, and to head off those lows at the pass. But of course, that opportunity will never present itself as long as time travel remains an impossibility).
In the end, many more doors opened up on account of this journey than were open in the beginning, both of a musical and personal nature, and there are plenty more subjects I have discovered through this crop of artists that I could wrap into another season of Parlour to Parlour. But I am not quite ready to commit to announcing a second season just yet. You’ll have to wait to find out whether it will actually happen. If it does, you can expect an announcement here in mid-June. If it doesn’t, well, these videos aren’t going anywhere anytime soon, so keep enjoying them as you see fit, and feel free to comment below on what your favorites were, what you’d like to see more of, what wasn’t so hot in your eyes, or anything else that might be on your mind.
Till then, I’m signing off here for a while. I hate to say it, but it does make me sad to see this project draw to a close. Rebecca saw it before I did – that sadness. But I’ve been so forward thinking all my life that – with some exceptions – I have tended to feel like it’s not worth wasting time on sadness. This time, there was no avoiding it.
Thank you all for joining me on this journey, and special thanks in particular to those I have listed below as part of the loose collective I have come to know as the Parlour to Parlour team:
Ted Asregadoo (audio mastering) – you probably had no idea what you were getting into when you offered your help in mastering my audio files. Thanks for being so patient and for never once flinching or losing your cool. Yours is a constitution we should all strive for. And given the varying quality of the sound files I sent you, the results of your work were superb! We are due for a bourbon fest soon.
Jeff Giles (Popdose editor in chief) – thanks for showing so much enthusiasm for this project and for being so supportive throughout the process. That green light you gave me had huge significance, as you can plainly see. Also, you were right – keeping me on camera was a good call.
Brandon Kane (Cosmic Control Productions, consultant and moral support) – thanks for cluing me into all the basic tools I needed to get started, for coaching me early on with regard to positioning and lighting, camera and audio equipment, alleviating my fear of shadows, and for plugging these episodes one by one as they were posted. I probably would not have had the courage to move forward with a project of this scope had you not involved me in your own full length feature project, so thanks for that opportunity as well.
Kelly Low (logo design) – thank you for taking time out of your regular work schedule to collaborate with me on the Parlour to Parlour look and feel. You took my rough pen sketch and turned it into a real brand with a personality all its own, one that reflects both my vision and your own sense of style, which I have always admired. The process was fun, smooth and easy, and I feel a great sense of pride every time I look at our work. And thank you for being so enthusiastic even after the work was done.
Lila Nelson (camera and lighting assistant – Episodes 1 and 2) – though I knew you would probably not be able to stick around for long due to your own gigs and such, I’m grateful that you took the time to lend your enthusiasm, willingness to learn, and comedic personality to the process of creating some of the first sets of narration inserts. Had you not spoken up and asked for the opportunity, I might have trudged on recording these things alone, essentially robbing the series of a subtle yet noticeable extra spark. …and if you haven’t already, get a Mac!
Rebecca Stewart (camera and lighting assistant – Episodes 5 through 25) – there’s so much to say, as no one besides me was more involved in this project than you. It’s no exaggeration to say that nobody was more passionate than you when it came to giving 100% to make sure things turned out not just right, but better each time. You thought outside the box every step of the way, continued to innovate your lighting techniques right to the very end, and I will always be grateful for you making the trips out to L.A. and Seattle to film Episodes 20-23 alongside me. You’ll never know just how sad I felt to finally tear down that paper monstrosity you built around the ceiling light in my office.
Finally, I leave you with a bonus video left over from the Episode 24 sessions with Steve Taylor. After we had finished filming Steve’s performance of “Mystery,” he asked if I wouldn’t mind also getting some footage of him at the piano playing the song “River,” which was one song I had mentioned before ultimately deciding that “Mystery” belonged in Episode 24. The lyrics of “River” felt like they should end the series – something I wouldn’t have realized until just before filming Steve for Episode 24. So I’m including it here as the last word on Parlour to Parlour 2009. Enjoy!
Nine years ago, it had already been long enough since The Spaghetti Incident? dropped in '93. That was when "Oh My God" appeared on the End Of Days soundtrack. And the Live Era double live CD came out. But Chinese Democracy didn't appear. In December of 2002, I saw Guns N' Roses at the Fleet Center in Boston (this was the tour that was cut short after Axl Rose caused a riot when he failed to show up for a gig in Philly), where they performed new-ish songs "The Blues," "Chinese Democracy" and "Madagascar" alongside the classics. It looked like they were setting us up for the album. But no... I saw them again two years ago at the Warfield in San Francisco. More new-ish songs were performed ("I.R.S." and "Better"), but still no album. But it looks official now, what with Billboard reporting a November 23 release date (exclusively at Best Buy) and the album showing up in a search on Best Buy's web site. It may not be the same band anymore, and maybe calling this band Guns N' Roses imposes a whole new idea of what "Guns N' Roses" actually is, but I agree with Sebastian Bach -- the songs are epic, which is exactly what I like. I, for one, am glad they're not writing "It's So Easy Part 2" or "Welcome to the Jungle... Again." Not to take away from those songs, but given the choice these days, I'll take the epic stuff like "November Rain," "Estranged," or that mystery song whose real title we'll know in five weeks over most of Appetite for Destruction. That album did sound pretty awesome in 5th grade though, let me tell you...
More than his policies (yay to repudiating "trickle-down economics"), more than his stance against the war in Iraq (yay to ending a war that never should have been started in the first place), more than his positive message of hope and change, I'm most impressed by his unwavering ability to keep his composure. I have watched all three debates, and this is what struck me the most. Even tonight, when John McCain was at his most fiery, Obama didn't take the bait. He remained calm, and laid out his words logically and coherently. I was struck by McCain's audacity to point to this very quality of Obama's and try to turn it into a negative. As far as I'm concerned, this is exactly the kind of person I want to run the country. He'll be catching hell from other political adversaries, and he'll be tested by unstable leaders from parts of the world who intend to do us harm. I think his inner strength will allow him to stay calm and think his decisions through in a sensible way, which will minimize the possibility of errors in judgement. This is what it comes down to for me: character. He's got it. The polls are in his favor right now. Let's hope that this translates to victory next month!
1) A kidney
In February of 2007, my parents had to cancel a trip to San Francisco to visit me when it was discovered that my mother's kidney function was dangerously low. She has been on dialysis ever since. She has her up days and down days, but days are looking better since she started working again this year. Not only that, she has moved up to the top of the list of donor recipients in waiting for her blood type (B). My prediction to her was that she'd have a new kidney by Christmas. Anyone want to speed things up and be a living donor? (Hey, I had to ask!)
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Tangentially... one of my fellow Popdose contributors, a dude known as Scraps who ran my favorite Popdose column, the regular Friday feature/game "Name That Tune," suffered a stroke last week. He is a freelance writer and, as with most such people, does not have health insurance. Donations to cover his medical bills can be made here.
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And finally, a public service announcement: if going to a concert is like having sex, then earplugs are your concert condoms (or dental dams or whatever else you choose to use). Wear 'em every time without fail! I say this because I should have known better than to forget my earplugs before going to see Earthless on Saturday night. My right ear is still ringing, and I'm a tad on the worried side... don't be an idiot like I was.
And this concludes the ramblings I didn't have time to make in the first place...
I finally caved in to curiosity and watched the official video for the cynically novel Alicia Keys-Jack White "Another Way to Die," commissioned for the latest installment in the James Bond franchise:
It was tough for me to watch this. Admittedly, a lot of that has to do with the pedigree of music that has consumed me lately. Look at the video in my previous post. Listen to the song. Listen to those lyrics. Even though the quality of the video is ramshackle by Hollywood standards, it's startlingly real. The camera lens could have been channeling your own pair of eyes, had you been standing in that very spot in the club. The sound may be less than perfect, but booming bass approximates what you would actually feel if you were standing by the club's PA. The music itself is unassailable. And the words work not only as lyrics, but as advice you can carry home with you, or to work, or anywhere, really.
And then the Nina Simone box set I'm digesting, and the Dylan set (reviews of which you'll be reading at Bullz Eye in short order) have been skewing my perspective. I clearly have a bias right now for music that comes from a place of relative purity.
Jack White and Alicia Keys both possess pure talent on their respective instruments, true. But this combination is... less than pure. I mean, it's technically good. They do complement each other sonically. But it's clearly novel seeing and hearing them together. It's a natural draw just contemplating the two of them collaborating. Wow, what must THAT sound like?
Well, it sounds exactly like what you'd expect - two monster talents with huge egos and powerful stage presence putting all their energy into projecting their musical personalities into a song that has little use beyond serving the film that catalyzed its creation, and enhancing the respective images of the stars who made it. Look at how they prance in the video. See how much emphasis is placed on Alicia sitting at the piano, Jack playing guitar, and Jack playing drums (which is another novel feature - look at how many instruments he plays!) in between sweet shots of both singers together at their microphones. See how little emphasis and few visual references are made to the Bond film.
What does this all mean, and why do I have this repulsive, empty feeling and an ache in my head after watching this video twice?
Why do I torture myself so?
I don't even care for Alicia Keys all that much. She possesses chops I can only ever dream of having. My issue is with how she uses them. Same with Jack White. I kind of dig the last Raconteurs album and the White Stripes' Elephant, and thought enough of Icky Thump to place it in my top ten albums of 2007, but just like the whiskey, a little Jack goes a long way. But I was curious, and even felt some sort of responsibility to know what these two pop culture titans were doing together, just like I had to hear what Timbaland did to Chris Cornell. Hearing those clips of the latter again, I suddenly feel a little better about Jack and Alicia...
Since I've been writing for Bullz Eye, my email address has been picked up by a bunch of publicists. I get so many press releases emailed to me that it's impossible to keep up with them all.
Sifting through the pile this morning, I went into quick-'n-dirty executive mode to make a dent at what I've missed recently. What I'm seeing is that lots of so-called "emo" pop-punk stuff comes my way. Don't get me wrong, it has value, but for the most part, the stuff from which it apparently descended, the decidedly non-pop D.C. hardcore of Rites of Spring, Dag Nasty, basically anything on Dischord Records, is more my cup of tea.
Take One Small Step for Landmines, for example. They're actually one of the better bands of this ilk, in that their recordings aren't maxed out with volume, and they don't look like they just spent $500 on a hairdo. Actually, the more I listen to this band, they kind of grow on me. But those sweet power-pop harmonies rubbing up against punked-up rock mix in my brain like oil and water. Blink 182 never did it for me either. I dig juvenilia, I dig punk rock, but not the way they mixed it with super-polished punk rock. It can be hard to explain exactly what excites me musically and what doesn't when just one quick listen can give me the answer in an instant, but I suppose it's just like choosing who to date or what to eat. You have a set of criteria that you go by, but on a moment's notice, your choices can confound others and even yourself when some unnamed quality you pick up on trumps all the rest.
Here are a couple other bands that I probably wouldn't go out of my way to cover in the face of the other assignments I have on deck, but still had me listening longer than the others sitting in my inbox. They're actually quite good, so see if they do it for you:
The Ting Tings: British new wave/punk group, throwback to the late '70s early '80s. Just a drummer and a frontwoman from the U.K. That crazy hooligan Calvin Harris remixed one of their songs too. From press release: "For the duo's recent limited edition UK single, 'Great DJ,' a Single of the Week in the NME, The Ting Tings recycled old 7" singles, inverted the covers and relabeled the sleeves with the band's name and song title using colored duct tape. Previous limited edition Ting Tings single campaigns have included a four city tour where the band invited the audience to decorate 100 blank 7" sleeves at each show. The lot decorated at each show were sold at the following gig." Sounds pretty awesome to me. Oh, to be a barhopping club goer in Manchester right about now!
Sleepercar: Alt-country project spearheaded by At the Drive In alumnus Jim Ward. I never got into the the Old 97's -- they should have been a band I liked, but they just never clicked with me. So by and large, the faster, punked-up Old 97's-influenced material on Sleepercar's West Texas doesn't do much for me. But when they slow it down, keep it mellow, and pull out the pedal steel, they give me that warm and fuzzy feeling I get from really good alt country. Add them to the growing list of bands giving Texas a good name.
Alright, time for another update on my review activities... two more at Bullz Eye.
I write these things and I sometimes forget that I'm at liberty to let my imagination run a little wild. But this one I wrote up on Radiohead's In Rainbows I'm particularly proud of, precisely because I got a little nutty with it.
And then, something completely different: a box set distilling the early years of Frank Sinatra's recording career into an easily digestible, manageable chunk of 4 discs called A Voice In Time: 1939-1952. These recordings are so old, many of the masters predate the standard use of magnetic tape! We're talkin' glass and aluminum discs and metal 78 rpm pressing plates here. And yet, all things considered, the reproduction quality is so good you may not even notice the occasional clicks and pops.
And back to "other crap" from two weeks back... as the painful headaches and occasional nightmares continue, an important first step towards a resolution to my creative mind block starts on Thursday, when I see a career counselor at UC Berkeley. I'm hoping this will be the beginning of deciding which of my various "irons in the fire" are going to be most worth seeing through to completion, which ones to just toss aside or put on hold, and how best to get from point A to point B. That "sustainable, harmonious union" of interests I'm trying to achieve will soon be one step closer to my grasp...
Posted on Friday, we have The Very Best of Diana Krall. I've been diggin' her for ten years now... my, how time flies! Great singer, great pianist, deserves a better overview than this one.
Also on Friday, we have my review of Chris Robley's second solo album, The Drunken Dance Of Modern Man In Love. This one will end up in my year-end top ten, for sure. I do actually have to submit one of those top ten lists to Bullz Eye soon, so keep a lookout for that as well.
And finally, from last week, there's PJ Harvey's White Chalk. One word to describe this one: spooky. If you don't go out for Halloween, play White Chalk as you're falling asleep and see if that doesn't get you in the mood.
As for the aforementioned "other crap," I woke up this morning having a nightmare about business card designs, logo presentations and looming deadlines. I had done well with keeping my day job from interfering with my slumbers until now. On the one hand, it's been kinda sorta exciting to be interfacing with artists and designers in finalizing a big huge important presentation to a big huge important client. I find the creative process endlessly fascinating when it involves a team. On the other hand, waking up in the dark all nervous about conveying this or that message to this or that person before deadline and not knowing how said message will make finishing the project either slightly more difficult or completely impossible... apparently I could have used another Dead Guy Ale last night.
Meanwhile, my own creative life (outside of reviews, of course) is seriously lagging, suffering from a loss of inspiration and drive. It's begging me for a complete re-evaluation of where I'm at in life. Apparently the course of action I chose last year, that being to immerse myself in web technology training while keeping up with writing and playing music a little at a time, isn't working. What will work? Answering this question is now more important to me than getting some web work, finishing a work of fiction, writing songs, or anything else I've wanted to do. It's back to fact-finding, compiling other possibilities, and trying other things out till something sticks and I can confidently say, "yes, this is what I'm doing, and I love it."
And then, from there, I'll be glad to have some more nervous nightmares.
With all the hype surrounding Radiohead's direct-to-the-fans approach to releasing their new album, In Rainbows (which is a great album by the way, if you like Radiohead and think their last two albums were great), I was reminded of a news bit by Troy Carpenter that appeared in Billboard back in January of 2005:
At this late juncture, most artists have an idea how they're going to deal with digital distribution and the perceived threat of peer-to-peer file-trading. Something going on at Juliana Hatfield's official Web site to this end demands the attention of the curious.
Hatfield, whose last release was the 2004 album "In Exile Deo" (Rounder), has been posting unreleased tracks at her Web site since early December, offering MP3s for unlimited download, on the honor system. Remember the honor system?
Yes, next to each pair of tracks posted for download, Hatfield provides a link to Paypal, the popular online payment site, where a donation can be made to the artist. The iTunes-forged standard of a buck per song is suggested. Alternatively, downloaders are urged to send a dollar in the mail.
So far, the system seems to be working, as future postings have thanked listeners for their donations. So far, 14 Hatfield songs have been uploaded, essentially spanning her solo career, and to accompany the latest batch, the artist wrote a letter explaining the origins of each song so far posted.
Later that year, Juliana released Made In China on her own Ye Olde Records label, with the help of the funds raised from her experiment.
Though Juliana, whose "My Sister" and "Spin The Bottle" were radio hits around the same time that Radiohead made themselves known with "Creep," didn't maintain the kind of massive momentum that Radiohead did, she proved early on that there was still enough goodness and honesty in people to make some bread in the digital free-for-all environment that is wreaking havoc on major labels (it's their own fault!). And it looks like what Juliana called the "honor system" has apparently worked tremendously in Radiohead's favor this time around, according to early speculation.
Note to self, and to all: binging on tortilla chips (and when I say binging I mean consuming roughly half a pound in one sitting), apple juice and Italian grapefruit soda late at night can produce the same "hangover" feeling the next morning that would result by replacing said beverages and most of the chips with an equal amount of alcohol. Seriously, Trader Joes' jalapeno chips don't even need salsa, and they're worth the groggy morning. Once, maybe.
Those chips were also partly responsible for my falling asleep during my second attempt to finish watching Snatch. Third time will be the charm, I'm sure, though I already have seen enough to know that it's just a slower moving, more easily digestible cousin to Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. One's for the caffeinated, one's for the inebriated. Take your pick.
You also have your pick of a few different reviews. I've got four more to share, three of which were made available this week, and one which was actually published back when I said rock was dead, but if I mentioned that one, I'd have to make some ridiculous argument that Jethro Tull is not rock (which could be made, quite easily too). So...
And if you get bored with my garbage (very likely), take a look at this: the New York Times recently published an excellent story on music guru Rick Rubin. He's gone from co-founding Def Jam (thereby playing a big role in hip hop's crossing over to a mainstream audience), to producing records by Slayer and Andrew "Dice" Clay, to resurrecting Johnny Cash's career so that the man could go out on top, to his latest humongous project - leading Columbia Records as the music industry faces a dire present and an uncertain future. Can Rick help turn the situation around? He could be the industry's savior... he even looks like one!
(Photo Credit: By Jamie Rector For The Washington Post Photo)
A high school student in Cary, Illinois was arrested for writing a violent essay as part of a school assignment.
A high school teacher in Woodburn, Indiana was stripped of her position as a journalism instructor and forced to transfer to another school to serve as an English teacher after failing to report a "controversial" editorial written by a student on homosexuality for the student newspaper.
This kind of garbage should seem commonplace to me by now, and maybe I wouldn't bat an eye if I read it yesterday when I was sapped of all physical and mental energy. But I can't help feeling more than a little peeved. Reminds me of this classic joint by Ice-T, from '89:
"Freedom of Speech"
Freedom of Speech, that's some motherfuckin' bullshit You say the wrong thing, they'll lock your ass up quick The FCC says "Profanity - No Airplay"? They can suck my dick while I take a shit all day Think I give a fuck about some silly bitch named Gore? Yo PMRC, here we go, raw Yo Tip, what's the matter? You ain't gettin' no dick? You're bitchin' about rock'n'roll, that's censorship, dumb bitch The Constitution says we all got a right to speak Say what we want Tip, your argument is weak Censor records, TV, school books too And who decides what's right to hear? You? Hey PMRC, you stupid fuckin' assholes The sticker on the record is what makes 'em sell gold Can't you see, you alcoholic idiots The more you try to suppress us, the larger we get
[You have the right to remain silent] Fuck that right! I want the right to talk I want the right to speak, I want the right to walk Where I wanna, yell and I'm gonna Tell and rebel every time I'm on a Microphone on the stage cold illin' The knowledge I drop will be heard by millions We ain't the problems, we ain't the villains It's the suckers deprivin' the truth from our children You can't hide the fact, Jack There's violence in the streets every day, any fool can recognise that But you try to lie and lie And say America's some motherfuckin' apple pie Yo, you gotta be high to believe that You're gonna change the world by a sticker on a record sleeve Cos once you take away my right to speak Everybody in the world's up shit creek
Let me tell you about down south Where a motherfucker might as well not even have a mouth Columbus, Georgia, said they'd lock me up If I got on the stage in my show and said "Fuck" So I thought for a minute and said "No, I wasn't even gonna do a damned show" Cos for me to change my words from my rhymes Is never gonna happen cos there's no sell outs on mine But I vowed to get those motherfuckers one day They even arrested Bobby Brown and Cool J Yo, they got their's comin', cos I'm mad and I'm gunnin' Homeboys, and there's no runnin' I'm gonna tell you how I feel about you No bull, no lies, no slack, just straight fact Columbus, Georgia, you can suck my dick You ain't nothin' but a piece of fuckin' shit on the damned map
Freedom of Speech, let 'em take it from me Next they'll take it from you, then what you gonna do? Let 'em censor books, let 'em censor art PMRC, this is where the witch hunt starts You'll censor what we see, we read, we hear, we learn The books will burn You better think it out We should be able to say anything, our lungs were meant to shout Say what we feel, yell out what's real Even though it may not bring mass appeal Your opinion is yours, my opinion is mine If you don't like what I'm sayin'? Fine But don't close it, always keep an open mind A man who fails to listen is blind We only got one right left in the world today Let me have it or throw The Constitution away
[Outro (Jello Biafra)]
What they're trying to do with radio, with this, uh, McCarron-Walter Act and a lot of other ways, is start by saying that they're protecting the public from wicked rock bands, or girlie magazines, or whatever. But, if you follow the chain of dominoes that falls down, what they're really trying to do is shut off our access to information itself.
If they can't do it by law they know there's other ways to do it.
If you know me well, you've probably heard my proposal for extending days by 12 or even 24 hours. Because, you know, we sleep for 8 hours (if we're lucky), and we work for 8 hours (if we're working for the 'the man'). That leaves only 8 hours to do our regular chores, keeps lines of communication open with our loved ones, pursue our hobbies, etc.
I started by asking for 48 hour days, then dropped it down to 36. It seems Josh Homme, frontman for Queens of the Stone Age, has been working on this request too. In a Billboard article that ran last week, he said, "I'm talking to this one guy about adding four more hours to each day, but he's not real positive about it." Damn! Could we at least get two hours? Two would be better than nothing.
And then, jumping over to a Pitchfork interview (also from last week, 4/13/07), Josh expresses my same assessment on this current age of overload:
"...it's an age of disinformation, where it's not like it's being kept from you, it's more like it's being piled on top of you[emphasis mine]. And so I think every time you go to make a personal decision, it's like more information comes to light. I think it's not really bad, it's more gluttony rad. It's sort of like indecision. And I think while we're all deciding, everyone samples a little bit of everything. And I'd like to play that party."
I complain about this sort of thing at work all the time -- there's just too much information being generated and it's impossible to take in everything we should! Just from my own day job office alone, there are new articles being generated every day that could completely take over my reading time if I let them. The only difference here is that, while Josh wants to "play that party," I kind of wish more people in the world would take vacations and shut the hell up for a few months at a time. And stop pumping out so many new members of the species and actually take the time to look around and figure out what kind of world we are really, truly capable of sustaining before we all suffocate on our own hot air.
Yes, I know, I'm part of the problem too... so I guess I should just shut up myself, join Josh at the party, and wait patiently for the suffocation to take over with a big smile on my face. Which is fine, just as long as it happens after June 16 so I have a chance to hear the new QOTSA album, Era Vulgaris, and use it as my end-times soundtrack.
P.S. -- head over to www.qotsa.com to hear "3's and 7's" from the new album. It fucking rules!
I'm hearing these strange French voices in my ear as I listen to a compilation of French psychedelic pop (no, you thought it was going to be Pakistani pop, didn't you?) and it's just totally groovy! That time machine is running again...
There's usually a price of admission for that time machine, and I'm finding that it's a bit steep for me these days. So naturally, I'm going to bitch about it. And the first target of my ire is Best Buy.
Why Best Buy, you ask? They sell lots of fine electronics at reasonable prices, and have great sales on CDs since they sell them as loss leaders. Well, let's call this a case of sour grapes. I bought a fine LCD monitor for my desktop computer there, and a keyboard that types really quietly, and a mouse, all for under $300. Earned some points in there rewards program that translate into discount coupons, too. Big scam, I know. The kind of thing I regularly rant about, like when I tell my mother that coupons are just a way to con you into buying shit you wouldn't have bothered buying otherwise. So I'm ranting against Best Buy because I fell for the rewards program scam, AND because of the big tease they pulled with the Sly & The Family Stone box set.
Sly's limited edition The Collection box came out last week, and was briefly advertised on Best Buy's website at the unbelievable price of $9.99. The saga has been chronicled in posts to the Smile Shop message board. Basically, it was first advertised online, in advance of its release date, at the sale price of $39.99. Then, suddenly the price dropped to $9.99. This was unbelievable mostly because the set contains seven full CDs with bonus tracks. It's a set that could easily fetch $70.00, so even $39.99 was a great price. Not long after the thirty dollar price drop, the set quickly "sold out" at the $39.99 price, leaving the rest of us to look for copies in physical stores for $49.99. This was all happening on Easter weekend, mind you, so people like myself who were too busy making nice with relatives and stuffing our faces with the flesh of baby animals were completely oblivious to the big online snafu at Best Buy.
In retrospect, I'm fully confident that the weekend I spent breaking bread with the fabulous girlfriend's fabulous family was far more enjoyable than embarking on a sterile treasure hunt inside of a big-box money-sucking machine ever could be. But still, why the torture? It seems awfully fishy that the price dropped so drastically and then the set sold out. I couldn't even find the box in the local Best Buy I walked into, and in the end I decided that my old versions of the albums collected in the box were just fine, thank you very much. Besides, ever since I tweaked the EQ settings on my Winamp, everything I listen to on my PC sounds like a unique remaster.
And though this isn't exactly news anymore, we can expect to see some new reissues by Elvis Costello. I mean, this is going to be the fourth label to manhandle Costello's first 11 albums: the originals were on Columbia, then Rykodisc added bonus tracks in the '90s, then Rhino added fully-stocked bonus discs to each album in the early '00s, and now... Universal gets their shot at creating the 'definitive' versions of these albums. No word yet on whether the full bonus discs from the Rhino versions will be preserved, or if the single-disc Ryko editions will serve as the new old standard for nostalgia, or something completely different. Hopefully Elvis and Universal learned from the mistake the Beach Boys made in the mid '90s -- when you take away bonus tracks and strip your albums back down to basics after giving fans a taste of the bounties of your archives, fans will be pissed off and accuse you of being a greedy, idiotic nincompoop.
And I still haven't heard Neil Young's 'raw' version of his Living With War album, which mirrors a trend in recent years of albums being re-released within a year of their original release date with bonus tracks, bonus DVDs, or other such promises of aural and/or visual revelation. Given that Neil has also released two archival live discs in the past year devoted to classic performances he put on in the '70s, and is about to release his long-promised Archives box set, I'm just a little overwhelmed.
The pace at which new and archival music is released and re-released has gotten to the point where, if I'm going to keep up with my favorite artists, and with artists who potentially could be my or somebody else's favorites, I'm going to have to listen and research full time and get paid so I can put some food in my mouth and keep a roof over my head. Any takers?
By day, I look after the publicity office for a major university. After-hours, I indulge in my passions: playing guitar, writing about music for blogs and print publications, eating, and singing at the local karaoke bar, among other things. I am also continuing to learn more about the web as I look to the future, where I eventually see my love of music, writing and the web combining into some sort of sustainable, harmonious union.
