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November 29, 2003
Here's Two Bucks, Asshole...Bend Over!
The Ethos of The Sailors Finally got my hands on some recordings by The Sailors, and they're...Well, I'll just have to write something about them soon. For now, here's a "review" I posted to a mailing list the day after their Chicago show this past Fall: "The Sailors show was first-rate. The singer guy was wearing a fur vest over his bare chest and had that sleazy long-hair-shaved-on-the-sides look, like a Canadian tattoo parlor janitor or something. They played "I Want to Fuck Your Ass with the Fist of My Cock"* and a bunch of other rousing shanties, including a cool garagey version of the switched-on moog fave "Popcorn." Their guitar sounds were boss: a kind of low half-destroyed catalytic converter barf from one and a twangy single-note Red Krayola lead sound on the other. Great gtr interplay. The singer did a long speak/sing thing where he talked about going to the Sears Tower and fucking the coat check girl, and then he spun a fictional tale about scoring H in Melbourne but people didn't realize it was fake and the room got really attentive as folks craned in to try to pick up tips. Then the singer took out a divining stick, declared it a "Wet Pussy Detector," and weaved through the crowd, being comically dragged along by the vibrating twig, meticulously avoiding all the Strokes-looking hipsters and finally stopping at the biggest, stupidest, leather-jacketed Da Bears guy drinking at the bar, and said, "HERE'S THE WET PUSSY! THIS MAN'S ASSHOLE IS THE WET PUSSY!" The guy got pissed off and went up to the stage woofing and shit and I thought there were going to be some fisticuffs for a brief second. But I was still laughing my ass off. Bonus points for the lyrical nod to Jon Wayne's "Mr. Egyptian" (from "Texas Funeral"; awesome obscure '80s Texas punk)." [* "I Punch You," Violent Masturbation Blues (Dropkick Records, Australia, 2001)]
November 26, 2003
Yay I Rule
Congratulations to me on my blog's 5,000th visit last night. It only took 19 months. The candles yell Blow Me.
The ghosts of dead teenagers sing to me while I am dancing about ugly architecture, Pt. II
I'm not that happy with this My Favorite review, but here it is anyway. [record review]
November 20, 2003
Holiday Reading
I don't post book lists, but Whitehouse apparently does. (English language unless you're TOLD.)
November 19, 2003
The ghosts of dead teenagers sing to me while I am dancing about ugly architecture, Pt. I
Let's get rid of L.A. [record review]
November 15, 2003
LET ME HOLD FIVE BOSS pt. II
With some deft pause-play skills and the help of a phonetician girlfriend, I’ve reconstructed the lyrics for “Let Me Hold Five Boss." This is as accurate a transcription of the song as I think can be made: [Backing track is a slowed-down loop of the piano intro from Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’” over the instrumental bridge part from the Commodores’ “Night Shift.”] ‘Scuse me everyone, I’m sick. I’m going to be sick. (sick…sick…sick…[cheap digital reverb]) Boss hurts me more that it hurts you Boss hurts more that it hurt you Boss no boss hurt me in a cold cell Blaring ass lights and stale turkey sandwich I wanna hold five and I’m asking you now People hold five in the suburbs all the time Dope Sick is a man of twists and turns I’ve been thru this shit so much it’s like a book You can’t expect a man to rhyme all the time The words aren’t the same as what I have to tell you Because my people didn’t invent language as such For instance I just shit on myself Dope Sick is a man of many turns All I’m asking is to hold five All I’m thinking of is hold five My DJ reads Karl Marx and I’m down with that Seems people trade paper for paper all the time You have to ask my DJ about that Give me some paper and buy some dopesick knowledge My DJ gets beats from dumpsters and I’m okay with that Give him some paper and avoid the middleman Dope Sick dressed like a dumpster one time To get the real dope on the dope devil culture You call him the devil but I call it culture Sorry ‘Scuse me for a minute while I get sick with this [sound of vomiting] [miscellaneous noises] Boss lemme hold five you’re only holding it You give me high five and I say talk to the hand Dope Sick is doper and sicker than you My shoes smell and I think I have a rash now The ancient Greeks used to write about this shit The Achaeans killed Polyphemus with uncut dope If my rhymes were dope I would have tooken it I’m quoting Eric B. and Rakim, I’m not illiterate I’m thinking about iron bars and money Nowadays gold bars are made of iron I’m here on a misdemeanor that I meant I got a packet of Taco Bell sauce in my pocket I’m sorry if I’m talking about myself so much But I’m sure you’d do the same if you were me But the next best thing is give me five The next best thing is let me hold five Boss hurts me like it hurts you Boss give me five on the shit-my-pants side Boss let-me-hold-five like it hurts your mind Let me hold five like you drunk yourself sober Trickle-down five on the five dollar side The Old School only taught me The Three L's: Letmeholdfive Letmeholdfive Letmehold five I really can’t keep this up much longer I’m sick for five but my rhymes equal ten I was made for a dollar-store cutout Boss cut me five Let me hold five My DJ cuts material… [Sample from the Smithsonian Folkways record “Sounds of the Office: Vol. 3, Midwest”]
November 13, 2003
"NAMING OF PARTS," Henry Reed (1914-1986)
Today we have naming of parts. Yesterday, We had daily cleaning. And tomorrow morning, We shall have what to do after firing. But today, Today we have naming of parts. Japonica Glistens like coral in all of the neighbouring gardens, And today we have naming of parts. This is the lower sling swivel. And this Is the upper sling swivel, whose use you will see, When you are given your slings. And this is the piling swivel, Which in your case you have not got. The branches Hold in the gardens their silent, eloquent gestures, Which in our case we have not got. This is the safety-catch, which is always released With an easy flick of the thumb. And please do not let me See anyone using his finger. You can do it quite easy If you have any strength in your thumb. The blossoms Are fragile and motionless, never letting anyone see Any of them using their finger. And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers: They call it easing the Spring. They call it easing the Spring: it is perfectly easy If you have any strength in your thumb: like the bolt, And the breech, and the cocking-piece, and the point of balance, Which in our case we have not got; and the almond blossom Silent in all of the gardens and the bees going backwards and forwards, For today we have naming of parts.
November 11, 2003
FIRST LESSON
What have I learned from a month of thinking about nothing but The Odyssey and (rock music)? That it's not the boldness with which you venture into music, but the rigor through which you make your way out.
Of Course NOW I Think Of This
My Halloween costume should have been "'Tubthumper' by Chumbawamba." Whenever anyone asks me what I'm supposed to be, I bust into an uncomfortably enthusiastic rendition: "I get knocked down! But I get up again! You're never gonna keep me down!" If someone asks me where my costume is: "I get knocked down! But I get up again! You're never gonna keep me down," arms flailing. When someone asks me where the bathroom is: "I get knocked down! But I get up again! You're never gonna keep me down!" As I'm being gently escorted out of the party, I get knocked down! But I get up again! You're never gonna keep me down... Worth a cup or two of watery keg beer. You get what you pay for. ~ Yeah Yeah Yeahs Remember The Replacements' "Bastards of Young" video, where the whole thing was one endless static shot of a speaker cabinet? Here's the millennial update, and probably the best music video I've seen since then. The behind-the-scenes shots bookending the video acknowledge that the director is playing the band while implying the opposite (some coy structural jive, and not that surprising). But inbetween, the band is not just convincingly driving the music -- after awhile, they seem to have grabbed the directorial steering wheel as well. Through a fraction of a breath delay and a huge tom-tom flam, the *drummer* has turned on the stage lights -- not the tape editor a week later. Karen O stares down the paintcan lights, stock-still, projecting color-filtered gazes of her own. The paintcan turns red like a stoplight; they blow thru the intersection on fumes. The band's energy begets control, they bear down on their instruments to shut out the camera's advance, Karen's face gathers the electrostatic force to short-out the video feeds. At that point, her decaying expression is the very last shot on earth a director would have used. It looks like pain. Oh, yeah -- that's what the song's about. The pain of having a record label instead of a lover. The amazed stagehands nod along in a slow pan of unselfconscious agreement. A few of them are wondering where the nearest 24-hour currency exchange is, because their paychecks have just been given the kiss of death. (via Sasha Frere-Jones).
November 10, 2003
NED ROREM
Went to hear Ned Rorem give a talk yesterday on the occasion of his 80th birthday. A few quotes: "Originality is overrated. I'm a firm believer in Jean Cocteau's assertion that a true artist can't help but be original, therefore he has only to copy." "Pierre Boulez was very sexy. He looked like a young Gene Kelly." "Everything in the world is either French or German. That is to say, it's either profoundly superficial or superficially profound. I'm French, myself." "I began writing 'Aftermath' in the days following the 9/11 tragedy... No, 'tragedy' is the wrong word, often misused. The 9/11 *catastrophe*." "I detest percussion. If I never hear another cymbal again for the rest of my life, it won't be too soon." [Asked by an audience member if he was inspired by Monteverdi and other composers he admires]: "I don't know what 'inspiration' is. I certainly stole from them." "The job of an artist is not to tell people new things. It's to tell people what they already knew, but couldn't put into words or form." "I was raised as a Quaker to believe that there is no alternative to peace...I don't think there's such a thing as 'political music.' There are marches that are meant to accompany people marching off to war. If I were to write a political song, it would be something that would cause people to march away from war." [enormous applause from audience]
November 02, 2003
BRIDGE 7/8
The new 406 pp. double issue of BRIDGE magazine is out now. The music section contains essays by Richard Meltzer (on the Rev. Robert Wilkins), Nick Currie (aka Momus) on classicism and atrocity in 1980s pop music, Mark Swartz on "Amazing Grace," Prof. David Rothenberg on knowing when to stop, Paul Ford (of Ftrain) on conservatory dreams deferred, and my essay entitled "The Shelf Life of a Can of Whoopass." The theme of this issue is duality, and the magazine is printed '69' style, where you flip the magazine over when you get to the middle and start again at the beginning of the other side. The issue also contains a role-playing game and module designed by Mr. A.B.D. Golub. For ordering information, look here.
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