Street Machines, Street Keepers
They’ve been repairing the streets uptown at night. The other night a hole by my house was smoking like Krakatoa. Thanks to all who keep the infrastructure of NYC going!
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Knitting My Curls with Nebula
Stoner rockers can’t wait to bang their heads
I can’t take a rock band picture with my camera to save my life (without flash which I don’t use because flashes bug me when I’m onstage) so here’s another bar shot.
Nebula and Totimoshi and Orphan performed last night at the Knitting Factory for a great triple bill of stoner rock. The moniker is for the sort of heavy bluesy rock first formulated by Black Sabbath which is unfortunate as for me it’s just kick-ass. Being a Monday, only about 50 people attended which is fine by me as I find myself sometimes getting claustrophobic at crowded shows.
I listened to the Democratic Convention and speechifying in Denver a little bit. I have a few problems with the nominee but anything is a damn sight better than four more years of tremendously worse. The best critical lines I recall went something like, “McCain voted with George Bush 95% of the time. That’s not a maverick, that’s a sidekick!” and Mark Warner, the keynote speaker said something like, “Some say George Bush was born already on third base. Well, after the gazillion dollar surplus and 22 million jobs left to him by Bill Clinton, George Bush came into office on third base. And in his eight years in office, he didn’t make it to home plate, he stole second base.” Ahahahaha.
Sunday in Williamsburg
vintage motor party 0808
I spent the day in Williamsburg with the first part at a motorcycle party (which I can’t find any link for), then in line for the Yo La Tengo show which sucked even though I wasn’t there. My friend Eva left the line and went home and then I left the line. Then I heard later that yes, YLT played a mostly slow Mint Julep set. Was at Iona for a sour IPA where I watched some Olympic volleyball–Brazil and someone else. I think Brazil lost. The Olympics are such an anomaly in this modern world. (I hope Naomi Klein was there.) Another post on that maybe but then I never watched these athletes until today. On a lark, I ran into an old friend who told me there was free show at the Williamsburg Hall of Music so I went. The music sucked but I’m glad I went as I got a free “distressed” hipster t-shirt and met an old regular from the Ding Dong Lounge.
Talk Radio Sandwich
Dirty bannisters never go out of style
I celebrated Obama’s VP pick by making an avocado sandwich on multigrain bread with Bavarian mustard, Havarti cheese, romaine lettuce and Florida tomato. I have knighted it the Biden Sandwich.
What’s happening to good New York news and talk radio? WNYC moved into its new home on Prince Street and dropped some of my favorite programming for more locally-flavored jabber. The morning BBC was replaced with “The Takeaway” which is basically nonstop interviews with desk flunkies. BBC reporters are the real deal. When they interview political leaders from around the world, you can hear the “you’re really full of shite, aren’t you?” British tone in their questions, especially from Owen Bennett Jones. So great. I also miss “To the Point” with Warren Olney (produced by KCRW) in the afternoons. Olney has the BBC attitude. It was replaced with the lamely titled and lackluster “Tell Me More.” They still have “On Point” and maybe with all those good points being made, WNYC was feeling a little like porcupine radio. Thankfully, the dropped shows are all still available on the internet.
Likewise, I no longer listen to Air America with all my favorite shows gone. Who’s running that syndicate? Milktoast McMilquetoast? The internet really is the salvation of good programming with Sam Seder and Randi Rhodes also still available. It’s Friday ya Bastids! Classic. With regard to Rachel Maddow, good for her! “Live audience. Live punk band. You know, mariachis for important segues…” Open Left asks the necessary, Mommy, Where Do Wankers Come From? Kudos to the Professor for his summer radio/TV crap wrap-up.
One of these days, I’ll post about my internet music.
Saw Me in a Mag
More photos of the 200 Guitars debacle over at Prefix Magazine. I’m in two of them with the rain hair. It wasn’t really a debacle, just sort of a big disappointment. It would’ve been a debacle if we all started playing and got electrocuted. I wish I had a socialized more during the rehearsals but I wasn’t in the greatest of moods. Anyway, Rhys Chatham said he’d try to re-stage it next year.
The photos were taken by my friend, Gabi Porter, who further inspired my photographic tendencies. She sold one of her Iggy Pop prints for $600 (I think).
Wordless Photo Dump
I meant to blog about these photos at one time or another. Not anymore. Enjoy.
Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story
A Michael Jackson/Johnny Cash moment in Walk Hard
I didn’t think all that much of Walk the Line, The Ray Charles Story, La Bamba, Sweet Dreams, The Doors Movie, or even Sid and Nancy. All took their subject matters too seriously to a fault cramming all the iconic cliches of legendary music careers into Hollywood chunks of serialized detergent commercials (“You’re soaking in it!”). The good movies about those music stars are the documentaries. So I had a good chuckle at Walk Hard. It’s the Scary Movie of musical biopics. Highly recommended.
Happy Anniversary
Joe, Julie, Caiti, Cisco, Vince, me, Sandy, Mac, Guerneville, California
A year ago at this time, I was with my family in California celebrating my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary, an achievement reserved for the few, the little bit crazy, the ever-loving lucky. Four of my siblings may also win this gold medal. This week my parents are celebrating their 51st so Happy Anniversary!
Nostalgia time! I can almost remember when I first learned “100 Bottles of Beer on the Wall,” one of the ditties my parents taught the kids to sing in lieu of squabbling during trips to Arizona, Yosemite, and Utah. I thought it was the most hilarious and grand thing ever and how it was so great that “100 Bottles of Coke on the Wall” just didn’t sound right. That’s a lot of beer, I thought. What kind of weirdo puts 100 bottles of beer on a wall? Did my parents really sing this in college at parties all the way to zero and then start over? So easy to get with the program. Take one down! Pass it around!
We would all sing some rounds and then the older kids would get bored and drop out one by one and then the younger kids would sing it longer to show off how they could rock counting backwards. Finally, silence would break out in the car for a while until a smarty pants like me would start in with “A Million Bottles of Beer on the Wall.” Good times. Are we there yet?
200 Guitars Cancelled
Great rehearsal photos at Brooklyn Vegan. My music stand is in a couple. As a couple of the commenters at BV noted, the management could’ve easily informed the crowd earlier of their decision to silence the guitars.
There were contingency plans to perform the piece in the rehearsal space — the church — and the management was foolish to hope it would be dry earlier tonight. I was hoping with them but still…
Update: Here are a few photos from the soundcheck. The top features John King conducting my section with Rhys up onstage. The last shows all the gear under wraps while it rained.
Now That’s a Big Organ
guitars amok if you look closely
Rehearsal tonight sounded great and I’m sorry I was a skeptic. This is the beautiful church where we got to blast the heavens. There are rain plans. Are you watching the Olympics? I’m not.
Amplification
Can’t wrap my 3D fence around it
I’ve been rehearsing the Crimson Grail with over 200 guitarists and these massive guitar orchestra composers never seem to learn anything from each other. The score is in letter sequences that don’t follow one another. Solution: Provide a score that explains the parts in between your cues. Granted, Chatham does provide a lot of that but it’s not presented in an easily understood manner when a conductor is constantly waving at you. (I’m never going to be accepted into another guitar orchestra again.) Each part of the orchestra has different letters. There are conductors trying to cue people when to play and they’re doing hand gestures. Solution: more cue cards so everybody can be on the same page at certain points. Tonight we were in a church and no one had a mic and could not be heard unless their head was pointed at you. There were some cue cards for parts where everybody is supposed to be playing the same note. More cue cards! It still sounds very cool so show up if you’re interested.
My bass head fell five feet on the cold hard marble. Hm. Gotta go in early and test it again
I watched “Natural Born Killers” last night for the first time since I saw it in the theaters and it was way better than I remember. It’s Oliver Stone’s best satire. Stone’s skill is to amplify history through his films regardless of the absolute historical accuracy. With NBK, he made a film about the “popularity of violence” in the same way. With amplification, people might hear you in Poet’s Corner. Tell a story as truthfully as you can and if the facts are in dispute, your story may be the truest of the lot. Maybe it will stick. If the truth sticks, it looks prettier than when the shit sticks. Get off my lawn you kids — buy some guitars and make rad movies.
Ok, what else. I hope you’ve been reading TPM lately which has been following the McSame response to the Russia/Georgia conflict etc. McSame wants to be Nero and Caligula. He really wants the U.S. to follow in the footsteps of every failed empire in history. He’s running a shit campaign that appeals to the worst in America. The YOT (youth of today) must put the crusty old douchebag in an old folks’ home if they want hope.
Toyass bitches