Stink Rock

RIP Richard Wright

2008-09-16T21:50:00.003-04:00

Richard Wright, keyboardist of Pink Floyd, died yesterday at the age of 65.

In his band, Richard Wright's contributions fell by the wayside. Roger Waters became the visionary and an accomplished lyricist, but my favorite Floyd songs came from the early era, after Syd Barrett was gone and up to Dark Side of the Moon. Gilmour contributed a lot, but Richard Wright was huge in this era.

I'm a little hazy on everything Rick contributed to the band, but one of his sublime moments as a songwriter was "Summer '68" from Atom Heart Mother. This album has to be the weirdest album to ever go #1 in England. It leads off with the 24 minute instrumental track, followed by an alarmingly introspective "If" by Roger Waters, followed by Summer '68. Then there's a throwaway Gilmour track, and then "Alan's English Breakfast", which is a marathon-paced track of found sound recording of deep frying bangers and eggs and Legos while on shrooms. Like if Ingmar Bergman directed a Monty Python sketch. #1 in England.

Like every high school denizen, I consumed Dark Side of the Moon, Wish You Were Here and The Wall in high school. I used to sneak cigarettes from my sister and stand out on my driveway, listening to Dark Side of the Moon, staring at the moon and weighing life. This is where bad high school poetry comes from.

When I discovered in college that Pink Floyd had made approximately seven albums before Dark Side of the Moon, I came home for the summer, stalked my local library, who had built up a burgeoning collection of 250-300 classical CDs and approximately 40 pop & rock. And yet they had the entire Pink Floyd catalog. So I requested them all. That summer, as I drove to and from work, I religiously checked my mailbox for the request cards from the library. It was my lottery. They all came through, and to this day, remain the largest fan I've ever met of the 'unsung' Pink Floyd catalog -- from the point Syd Barrett left up till the point of Dark Side.

'Summer of '68' was in there. Amidst all the Roger Waters megalomania and the psychedelia was this beautiful pop song that invoked the same England that (as I'd eventually learn) Ray Davies beautified.

Sonicly, Summer '68 was probably my first favorite song to turn up on the home system - the first song that could never be loud enough. It has incredible dynamics - the same shit I fell in love with all over again with the Pixies and Nirvana in the early '90s.

To this day, I still adore this song. Linked below. Rest in peace, Richard.

Summer '68

McCarren Pool

2008-09-05T00:30:00.002-04:00

I finally made it to McCarren Pool to see a show. My timing was impeccable, because Sonic Youth was playing the last ever show at the Williamsburg pool, as it's reverting to a public pool. This pleases me to no end. There are a lot of beautiful people clogging up that neighborhood, and they're pale as hell. I, for one, want to watch them burn. I will dress in black scuba gear and line my pockets with Baby Ruth bars, and go Caddyshack on their ass.

I hate outdoor shows. The bands I champion sound better with sound waves bouncing off ceilings and fat fanboys in backpacks. But I'd never seen Sonic Youth live before, and there was a hefty ticket price, so I figured the chaff would wait this one out.

First observation: Thurston Moore has sold his soul to the devil. He's older than Dave Murrow, but nary a wrinkle or gray hair. And really, how else can you explain a difficult band like Sonic Youth thriving under a shareheld record-exec canopy?

Thurston: I want to be famous and young forever.
Devil: Alright.
Thurston: And I want our bass player. Mercy, Mrs. Jesus! There's a teenage riot in my pants.
Devil: Oooooo. Gross.
Thurston: I look like Beck.
Devil: Fair point.

Thurston takes over a crowd. He's a great stage presence, an amazing songwriter, and a sick guitarist, as is Lee Renaldo. The two of them cut a rug.

But Sonic Youth falls into that Bob Dylan/Bruce Springsteen category for me. I want to love them and their music more than I actually do. On record, Sonic Youth is extremely viable -- the songs that Thurston and Lee write are all noteworthy. Live, they fall flat. Don't get me wrong. I love playing the bass, and if I looked as nice in a skirt as Kim Gordon, I'd probably draft Thurston & Lee. Fortunately, I don't.

Dangerousness

2008-08-28T03:04:00.004-04:00

The days of true punk rock as we grew up to love it are over. 3 of the Ramones are dead. Joe Strummer is dead. The punk rockers from that era either got jobs or dress funny and hang out outside McDonalds.

So how much room is there for punk rock? In 2008? A little skeptical as I read this headline:

This Cuban punk rocker got thrown in jail.

Ok, a Cuban in jail. Of course, it happens all the time. They paddle to Miami with those delicious sandwiches, and we can't help but arrest them. But this is a little different. As the BBC News reports, one of the charges against him is "dangerousness". Dangerousness!

Let's forget for a second that being accused of "danger" would be a lot funnier and a lot more grammatically correct. Can you imagine being in a prison, rotting away, with a charge of 'dangerousness' against you? You'd feel ten feet tall, mostly because all of the dicks what got stuck in you.

Perp1 (you): What you in for?
Perp2: Murder 1. You?
Perp1: Dangerousness.
Perp2: (ASS/KIDNEY WHIPPING)
Perp3: Pretty mouth!

etc, etc.

I haven't heard the music, but it must take tostones to roast the government in Cuba. But I don't fuckin' buy it -- the guy's band is called "Porno Para Ricardo", which translates word for word to 'Sex For Richard'. And what kind of a fuckin band name is that? Would you go see a band called 'Sex For Richard'? The singer isn't even named Ricardo. He's named Gorki. So who the fuck is Richard?

I guess my point is, Punk rock is dead. And it's still better to go to jail in the U.S. than Cuba.

Microdot

2008-08-14T21:08:00.003-04:00

I finally got around to seeing loudQUIETloud, a recent documentary about the Pixies. I had a chance to see it in the theater when, a couple of years ago Lincoln Center ran an excellent series of music-themed documentaries (I caught 'Does Everyone Stare' at the same series, which I wrote about here.)

It's one of the saddest musical documentaries I've ever seen. Maybe I'm ratcheting it up because the Pixies are so dear to me, but it almost hurts to watch. The filmmakers follow the Pixies as they re-form and cash in on their cult status from the late '80s/early '90s, when they put out a catalog of near-perfection. Never have I heard a band craft albums as effortlessly as the Pixies, one after the other.

The thing I found so sad about the movie was how mundane it is to be a Pixie. There are no rock 'n' roll trappings to be found. All they had to do was re-learn their amazing songs and show up. No booze, as required by Kim; no drugs outside of David Lovering's Valium addiction, which should make the Top 10 list of cheesiest addictions, a list that Lester Bangs would no doubt top with his cough syrup.

There was a nervousness that was expected, but no real excitement. And what hangs over the band and is never ever discussed at any length is the tension that tore them apart. It feels so alien -- not forced, but...well, numb. Charles approaches his job with the enthusiasm of a government worker. Android/guitarist Joey Santiago, the sanest guy in the band, seems more concerned about scoring a film. Drummer David Lovering is a nerdy 12 year-old in a nerdy 40-year old body who can't relate to anyone. Kim Deal, on the other hand, has always been extremely visceral, and has such a magnetic personality. But she brings her twin sister Kelley along with her for support and looks very shaky.

In the end, everything works out -- the tour is a huge success, and they keep playing. The live performances are kinda listless, but honestly, the Pixies were always distant on stage. But I was confused and a little saddened by the fact that it didn't mean 1/1000th as much to them as it did to me and droves of other fans.

----------------------

I'm getting a slight taste of what the Pixies' members mindsets may have been, albeit on a much smaller scale. Monday night, Microdot is playing its first show with Rob in, I'm guessing here, 3 1/2 years. We have our good friend George to thank--if not for his annual Via Skyway blowout, who knows if we'd ever play together at all.

So when Dave pointed out that before next Monday's show that, hell, we'd all be in the same room together and could play a set, it made sense. They're good songs, if I may say so.

Here's the beauty of playing with the best guitarist I know and the best drummer I know. Dave and I pooled our mp3s and listened to recordings/demos, and picked a batch of songs. We got together and ran through them, whittling down the list a bit.

Two weeks later, we spent an hour with Rob before a Via Skyway rehearsal and ran through them. The set includes 3-4 songs he's never heard before, but that doesn't matter. Rob processes shit quick. I bet a lot of people cheated off him in high school.

And now, four days before the show, I'm calm. There's no real significance to this show. Dave, Rob and I are friends, see each other occasionally, and are going to play some of our very best songs. After Monday, we may do it again, we may not. Nothing to worry about.

I usually get anxious & a little stagefright before I take the stage. I don't think it's going to happen this time. We're going to play most of the songs really well, and the ones we don't...well, you may not even notice if you're there. I'm pretty confident most people will enjoy a bunch of the songs, and I'm very confident that Dave, Rob and me will.

And that's it. I've got that inner quiet.

Skybox

2008-07-19T04:42:00.004-04:00

UPDATE: Myspace link fixed.

So my brother, who is arguably the finest human being on earth after my mother, just left town with his new band, Skybox. (Dad, you're in the top 10. Gandhi is #15, so you should still be flattered.) Skybox is a young indie rock band, and the songs on their myspace page suggested some interesting and solid music, but not earth-shattering.

My brother rolled in at 2am on Thursday with their drummer, Mike, who is a stand-up guy, and as it turns out, a kick-ass drummer. Later that day, I met their bandmates, who were also great guys. Christian, the guitarist/keyboardist, is a live wire. Imagine Matthew McConaughey wanting to keep his shirt on at all times, and being an incredible musician.

When they started their Thursday show at Galapagos, I had the joy of watching a band for the first time that I had no knowledge of. I wasn't rooting for them -- I know my brother rocks the bass and is a music pro. I figured he picked a good project, so I sat back and watched them.

By doing so, I was reminded that learning a band by seeing them live in an intimate venue is still the best way to hear new music. Singer/guitarist/principal songwriter Tim sometimes sings in a whimsical falsetto that I've heard in other bands, and tend not to like. But as the first few songs went by, I could tell how much work he'd put into crafting these songs -- there were incredible vocal harmonies, dynamics and song structures.

By song and beer 5, I was ridiculously hooked. This band knew exactly what they were doing, but in the audience, there was no idea what was coming next. I think I missed a couple songs as I was feverishly text-messaging friends to urge them to come out to Friday night's show at the Knitting Factory. But I was absolutely floored.

I've stopped seeing a lot of live bands because in New York, a lot of bands get by with terrific marketing haircuts and fanbases, and more because I'm sick and tired of going to venues where people aren't there to see shows -- they're there to hang, be seen, catch up with friends, sit on the floor, wear enormous backpacks and pretty much do anything but direct their attention to the band onstage.

There's no question I enjoyed Skybox so much because my brother was in the band. But I also got to hang with everyone in the band before they hit the stage. It made a *huge* difference. If I walked into a club and saw Skybox playing, I'd be impressed but reticent, because I'd be detached, and because some of the things they do I've seen other bands do. But getting to meet them before they hit the stage, seeing they were earnest, down-to-earth funny guys telegraphed how much of their stage presence was an act, and how much was their personality. And honestly, it was all personality. For example, Christian was a ham onstage, but he's a ham offstage. He kicks all kinds of ass--maple, strawberry, boysenberry ass. These guys were all legitimately psyched to be playing their songs for people, and got along so well.

Friday night's show at the Knitting Factory was even better than the Thursday night show. Same set, I'm guessing. There was a decent crowd, and pretty much all of them were there to see another band on the 5-band bill. And after they played their first song, I knew they were on. And I had the distinct pleasure of watching a band I now love win over a crowd. It's a truly amazing feeling to watch a band who you know is good play to strangers and convert them. After every song the crowd got more and more excited. After the 3rd song, someone yelled out "You guys are called Skybox?", registering them for the immediate future, where they jumped in a long line at the merch table.

This post is kinda about how good my brother's new band is, but it's really about the excitement I felt going to a live show from a band I didn't know whose performance and energy was so vital, and how meeting them beforehand triggered my excitement for these two shows. When you know the band you're about to see is really talented, loose, and happy to be playing, all is good.

Dan, if you read this, stay in this band. You guys are awesome.

A Meme

2008-07-04T15:06:00.006-04:00

UPDATED (7/07/08): Look at the bottom of this post for a couple downloads.

A new post about a band I love is coming up soon, based on the overwhelming response to the Walt Mink post. In the meantime, I'm curious what the people who stop by here are listening to. If you could oblige, name a few bands you're currently listening to, and a few great songs by each that have inspired said listening. If you got a blog, put 'em there, so maybe your commenters will chime in too. Here's my list:

ROLLING STONES (even before Jackson's post), I've been slowly filling in the gaps of my Stones knowledge. As a Beatles kid, I never really loved the Stones growing up, and predictably found Led Zeppelin more exciting. Which is odd, because the main reason I was never a Stones fan is that I dislike the blues. Actively. Certain singers will hit me right, but blues guitar in particular bores me.

But I liked the Stones enough as a kid to get Hot Rocks on cassette and hear the same songs on the radio. The mistake I made was that I assumed that the Stones' best material was on their greatest hits. I was wrong.

You can spend a year or two with a Rolling Stones album before tackling the next one, like the way they were released. That's kind of the way I've been tackling them - 10 years ago, 'Let It Bleed'. 7 years ago it was 'Satanic Majesties'. 5 years ago, 'Beggars Banquet'. Then 'Aftermath', then 'Exile', then 'Sticky Fingers', then 'Exile' again. There's really no rush. Although if Keith died, I'd probably listen to the entire catalog very very quickly. But he's not going anytime soon, is he?

2000 Man. From Bottle Rocket, and Satanic Majesties. Kinda goofy lyric-wise, but like with many Stones songs, the conviction is in the guitar playing and the drumming. I'm also a huge fan of sticking a song inside another song, like it's a Tauntaun.

Can't You Hear Me Knocking. Mick Jagger is one of the best performers I've ever seen live, and the best frontman by far. With that, and the David Bowie sex, must come a supersized ego. So it amazes me that he fades into the band so well on record, and becomes another instrument, not its figurehead (like on Sympathy, which I like but never need to hear again). That's just one of the amazing things about this song. Another being the 'fuck Carlos Santana, I can do this shit lying down' 2nd half. And then Charlie Watts doesn't know where to end. I love that shit.

Let It Loose. A deep cut on Exile. Just beautiful. This is one of those songs that should be heard, and not talked about.

Dead Flowers. I love songs built around acoustic guitar and drums, I realize. If I had the jaw, I'd suck that shit all day long. This is the happiest jilted lover song ever.

Turd on the Run. It just came up on shuffle. Nice.

POLVO

As Misanthrope mentioned, I just went to see Polvo, the noisy math-rock geniuses, with Misanthrope and Barack Obama, Misanthrope's fuck-buddy. One of the best 10 shows I've ever been to.

Polvo's music is 'difficult'--imagine if Sonic Youth let Lee Ranaldo write most of their songs--but after meeting (and hugging) the band members I realized it's not some high-minded art thing. This is just how they see and hear the universe around them.

I don't love every song by them, not by a long shot. There's some filler on their records. But as somebody who has a knack for figuring out songs on guitar, the Polvo show was like a magic show. Alternate tunings abide, to be fair, but the guitar interplay in that band humbles me and dazzles me.

About the hugging: along with Misanthrope & Barack, our friend John Thomas was in tow. He went to high school with the guitarist and the bassist, and introduced me to
the band. After the show, when I realized my ass had been music-kickpunched and I loved this band, I used his good name to negotiate hugs from the band. The bassist was the creepiest -- he was 2nd of the 4. I ran into him in the bathroom, there was no one else there. He was finishing up, I was entering. I mentioned I had a bet with my friend John (false) that I couldn't hug every member of Polvo tonight. He obliged my request.

The weird thing is that I was telling him this while I was approaching the urinal, and finished my request as I had started the process. But this man waited for me to finish peeing, wash my hands, dry them, and hug him. He is truly the greatest man working in rock and roll today.

Songs:

Thermal Treasure. The first song on my favorite album of theirs (Today's Active Lifestyle), and I've heard it 50 times, but it took 49 listens to understand everything happening in it. And it's been stuck in my head for the last three weeks.

Snowstorm in Iowa. Didn't hear it at the show, but it makes me think of John van Atta, and how he should've been at this show.

Fractured (Like Chandeliers). Years ago, the Misanthrope turned me on to Polvo, and this song in particular. I haven't been listening to it lately but it's the best Polvo song ever. When they played it, every mid-30s male in the audience turned into a 13-year old girl.

THE CURE

At the recent Via Skyway show, where I filled in on bass, we covered the early Cure single 'A Forest'. Great song, but it came out of a 3am text-message conversation with George, where I suggested we play 'Push', the guitar-hero song that wraps up Side 1 of 1985's "Head on the Door." I sang the Cure cover.

After the show, the bartender bought me a shot for singing the Cure song, which prompted me to ask him: who's better? The Cure or the Smiths?

(This is a huge sticking point for me. I love the Cure. I allow the Smiths, but I want to put Morrissey's face through a stain-glass window.)

The bartender said 'The Cure'. If only he were a woman! I bought him a shot for answering correctly. He paid for it.

I don't know why people knock The Cure. Robert Smith is one of the best guitarists to ever front a band, and they've evolved the same way that REM or The Stones have. Like with those bands, their last 5 albums couldn't grow grass, but in their heyday they were truly unique.

Songs:

Push: My favorite Cure song ever. If you haven't heard it, you have no idea how good it is. The most underrated guitar hook of the 1980s.

Six Different Ways: A throwaway pop song on 'Head on the Door'. But it's such a thrill to hear a good band at the height of their powers throw away a song.

10.15 Saturday Night: Back when the Cure were a 3-piece, they made a song that should teach every band about dynamics. My 2nd favorite Cure song ever.

Exploding Boy: A B-side to 'In Between Days'. An incredible, incredible song.

UPDATE:

Polvo - THERMAL TREASURE
Cure - THE EXPLODING BOY

Corporate Rock still sucks

2008-06-29T21:35:00.004-04:00

Devo is suing McDonalds over a new Happy Meal Toy, which strongly resembles the outfits Devo wore in their 'Whip It' video.

I have no problem with bands selling their music for use in commercials, especially since advertising executives developed decent musical taste. (The most recent example are ads I've seen during the UEFA Euro Cup featuring music by great Brazilian psych-rock band Os Mutantes.) And maybe I'm foolish but it still amazes me that McDonalds would steal from Devo, of ALL bands, to keep selling their multi-million dollar flavor of diabetes. And attaching American Idol to it is a pretty big slap in the face.

I wonder how much this sort of thing goes on. The only famous example I can remember from my lifetime is when Michael Jackson licensed 'Revolution' to Nike back in the late 1980s. Paul McCartney, a notorious suit in the rock 'n' roll world (let's not forget that he sued the Beatles) was livid, and I'd always assumed that it was McCartney defending Lennon's ideals, but it turns out that it was because he didn't get paid. Read about it in the Straight Dope (God, I miss the Straight Dope.)

But a much better example is that of Tom Waits, who has, among his other accolades, developed a stance against this very practice. From his Wikipedia page:

"Waits has steadfastly refused to allow the use of his songs in commercials and has joked about other artists who do. ("If Michael Jackson wants to work for Pepsi, why doesn't he just get himself a suit and an office in their headquarters and be done with it?") He has filed several lawsuits against advertisers who used his material without permission. He has been quoted as saying, "Apparently, the highest compliment our culture grants artists nowadays is to be in an ad—ideally, naked and purring on the hood of a new car," he said in a statement, referring to the Mercury Cougar. "I have adamantly and repeatedly refused this dubious honor."

Waits' first lawsuit was filed in 1988 against Frito Lay. The United States Court of Appeals for the 9th Circuit affirmed an award of US$2.375-million in his favor (Waits v. Frito Lay, 978 F. 2d 1093 (9th Cir. 1992)).[46] Frito Lay had approached Waits to use one of his songs in an advertisement. Waits declined the offer, and Frito Lay hired a Waits soundalike to sing a jingle similar to Small Change's "Step Right Up," which is, ironically, a song Waits has called "an indictment of advertising." Waits won the lawsuit, becoming one of the first artists to successfully sue a company for using an impersonator without permission."

Good for Tom Waits, and good for Devo. I hope the courts find in Devo's favor.

New Pornographers

2008-06-20T19:41:00.006-04:00

The New Pornographers are probably the best band of this decade, and easily the best Canadian band of all time. (Fuck you Rush, and the unicorn you rode in on. And fuck you, The Band -- when I watched 'The Last Waltz' I fast-forwarded through all the music. Why do you need two drummers to play slow, lame folksy jam-rock beats? You suck.)

Their debut release, 'Mass Romantic', is the happiest record I own. It takes that Carpenters-"I want to kiss children and play Candyland" happy vibe and waits till they turn 18 so they can *really* kiss them. Preferably with their pants off. You know, sex.

It kinda sucks that the New Pornographers are so good at writing songs, because they could easily be the best cover band in the entire world. Witness their note-perfect cover of 'Don't Bring Me Down' by the Electric. Light. ORCHESTRA.

Also (plug)

2008-06-12T23:17:00.002-04:00

Stinkrock is a crazy sports fan. For the same reason I loved seeing Bruce Springsteen take the stage at Tramps with Soul Asylum and forget all the words to 'The Tracks of my Tears', I love the unpredictability of sporting events. So I've started a sports blog with a good friend of mine. If you're a sports fan or a man, come visit I'm Keith Hernandez!

Walt Mink

2008-06-12T21:26:00.004-04:00

I was talking to Jackson recently about my increasing boredom with writing about music. Two reasons -- I'm not really seeking out new music, and since I gave up caffeine I lack the resolve to argue that 'Right Down the Line' by Gerry Rafferty is a better-sounding pop song than anything that came out in the last 10 years. Second, I am sick of the New York City music scene. It's turned into a microcosm of the machine I fled from in my teens when I gravitated to punk and alternative music.

When you do a new drug for the first time, it knocks you on your ass. We're all jealous of people who get to experience amazing things for the first time. But there are diminishing returns. I never have to hear another catchy rock song as long as I live. I have Big Star, Guided by Voices, the Posies, Sugar's 'Copper Blue', the Raspberries, everything Grant Hart ever wrote, Pulp, Lou Barlow, "Hybrid Moments" -- the list goes on and on.

The way for me talk about music is to sit down in a room with each of you (all 6 of you), listen to a song or an album side or a band and just talk. In a vacuum, it feels pointless. And here in NYC, since Brownies closed, there's no successful business model for building a live music venue with great sound unless overpriced drinks and overpriced haircut-wearing heroin-thin trendpackers are in attendance.

So if anyone wants to hear me talk about the bands that matter to me, that's all that's going down on this site from now on.

----------------

Walt Mink came out of musical mecca Minneapolis at the exact same time that the Smashing Pumpkins were convincing sad goths that overproduced records exalting misery were the great new and true art. Lead singer and guitarist John Kimbrough was cursed because he sounds like a chipmunk on helium when he sings. But he blasted through Orange amps, and is one of the lost great unheralded guitarists of my lifetime.

When I turned 21 I was stuck in St. Louis for my birthday, a city I transplanted to and never really got sold on. I drove down to a tiny club called Cicero's and saw Walt Mink play a fantastic show. Walt Mink was a 3-piece, with the guitar hero Kimbrough, his gorgeous wife on bass, and Joey Waronker on drums, who went on to play on Elliott Smith's 'XO' and tour with REM after Bill Berry faked an aneurysm because he was sick of the Douche Peter Buck.

I don't normally wax about guitarists but Kimbrough was incendiary. Where Billy Corgan decided to be a figurehead and write anthems like 'Cherub Rock' with insipid lyrics, JK focused on the guitar. These two guys were probably the only '90s alterna-rock guys with the chops to salute Hendrix, but you can hear Kimbrough springboard and dive tight. That fuckin Orange amp sounds awesome.

Here are a few Walt Mink songs--one from each of their first three records.

Miss Happiness: boomp3.com

Turn: boomp3.com

Overgrown: boomp3.com

Performance

2008-06-02T01:08:00.003-04:00

Happened over to Tony Alva's blog today and saw he enjoyed the hell out a performance by Kansas recently.

People, this is sad. I was given a ticket to see Kansas/Night Ranger in high school, and I went because they were 4th row seats. Night Ranger was a lot of fun, and apparently I was the only one who knew 'Don't Tell Me You Love Me' was their only serviceable song. At that point, it was probably my favorite song, I'm a starfucker, whatever. Bassist/singer Jack Blades attempted to throw me 3 or 4 picks but they all landed in the lap of some country club lackey in the 2nd row, who thought he was the hottest shit for getting all these picks. I realized that Night Ranger sucked because they couldn't flick picks worth a damn. Wait, I have a story.

I went to see Van Hagar in 1987 on the OU812 tour and scored 2nd row tickets...wait, I have a story.

There was this guy in high school named David Brown. He was the kind of guy that made you feel like he had already come up with an alias-y name like David Brown. Anyway, he had no friends and was super smart, and lived behind the restaurant I used to work for. And he was a ticket scalper. Or not quite--he was a middleman, between the scalper and the kids I went to school with. Occasionally, we'd cut class and for the rich sum of $20 (gold in those days) we'd cut class and head to ticket sales with him. At that point St. Louis venues would give out circus supply tickets as line numbers, then you were supposed to show up at the venue at 10 or 11am on a weekday with your line numbers. They'd flash the last two digits of line numbers up on the board, and the unemployed trailer set would send their better half scurrying towards the ticket windows. Our David Brown opened up a cd booklet full of duplicate tickets, ob/com'ly sorted in numerical fashion and clipped together. He pulled the ticket with the corresponding numbers, handed it off to one of us with a clip of cash and yelled, 'Go! Go! Go! Go!' like we were heading into war.

Along with the $20, David would get us great seats for various shows. I saw the Who reunion tour in '89 at Busch Stadium - I had seventeenth row. It was amazing. I also had 2nd row seats for Van Halen in '88. And during Eddie's I can do this when I'm drunk Eruption/Mean Streets/Cathedral/Eruption solo, he started throwing out picks. He whizzed one right in my direction from about 25 feet away. I was stone cold sober, but I couldn't get my hands up in time. But I swear to God, that pick whizzed *right* by my ear, so close that I could feel the displaced air on my earlobe. That's how you know Eddie Van Halen is a great guitarist--he flicks picks better than any of them.

At that show, I did get a pick from Sammy Hagar, who couldn't flick picks worth shit. It broke two weeks later and I threw it out.

Getting back to Night Ranger, I found Jack Blades' pitch-flicking abilities to be on par with Sammy Hagar's. And he was never in Montrose. *And* he was in Damn Yankees. This was probably the pivotal moment in my life where I realized that there were certain types of rock bands that mattered, and certain types who didn't.

And then Kansas came out. The set was terrible. Yes, the musicians were well-skilled, just like they are at Sam Ash. And even though I still have a nostalgiac liking for their epic 'Carry On My Wayward Son', Kansas prefaced it that night with a battle cry of 'ARE YOU READY?????'. Come on, Kansas. It's a good song, but we all expected to hear it. If you hadn't played it, a good percentage of us would have asked for our money back.

So, back to my point: here's a kickass performance from Otis Redding. I've Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now). No coolers or soft lawn needed. Just pure energy.

What ITunes means to me, or how I spent my winter vacation

2008-06-01T00:51:00.003-04:00

As I wrote a few months ago, I began losing interest in new music last year. It was a combination of a few factors: a frustration in the New York scene as a musician, a loss of interest in seeking out live music as venues closed, moved and featured worse sound, plus a merging of the lounge culture with the live music culture. Even at the Bowery Ballroom, where music sounds good, kids sit on the floors with their hair lice and gigantous backpacks and hit on themselves.

On the positive note, I pulled away from the excitement and hype of new music. Tougher than you think. Up until recently, I discovered most of my favorite bands from two sources: publications, and word of mouth. In the late 1980s, I was listening to classic rock and scrubbed metal, but Metallica's Garage Days led me to the Misfits, to hardcore, to punk and finally to indie rock. I subscribed to Rolling Stone when I was 16, and within a year or two they published their list of the best 100 albums, featuring bands I had never heard of or had considered. I bought Murmur, Zen Arcade, Let it Be and London Calling from that list.

In the year-end issue RS asked artists and other people (who I skipped) what they liked that year. This is common practice now, lists of new music, but then it was essential -- everything flew through word of mouth. Michael Stipe named 'Doolittle' by The Pixies was one of his favorite listens, and I snatched it up immediately.

(The guy who gave me a copy of Garage Days gave me some other Misfits songs, and turned me on to Fugazi. Already, I'd heard 6-7 of my favorite ten bands that exist today.)

Back to the present. This year I realized that what I'd heard from those years, and the music I sought out till recently produced enough great finds to last me for a lifetime. When is enough enough? Sure, there is good music out there being made, and I want to find the energy to keep searching for it. But it was time to take stock of what I'd acquired. So I went through my catalog and listen to everything I owned. Well, not entirely true--I listened to everything I felt like listening to. For instance, I've had no interest in hearing a Beatles track from 1962-1964; they're firmly forged into my brain at this point.

And then I hit on why I love ITunes. I could mold into a living, breathing diary and encyclopedia of the music that I love. Imagine if you had a radio show, where you could play anything you wanted all day. The IPod became my perfect radio.

My motivation ran along these lines: there have always been discussions about desert island music picks: If you could only take so much music, what would you bring? So I wanted to build my perfect radio. If I put the IPod on shuffle, I wanted every song to mean something. Gone for me is the album format that proliferated in the 1970s. Unless the album is perfect from start to finish, why do I need to hear the filler tracks?

There's been so much discussion about how digital music, particularly the mp3, and the IPod are no match for vinyl or even compact disc in terms of audio quality. So maybe I'm of the perfect generation, but growing up, I did 80% of my listening on cassette. Bought 'em through Columbia House. Taped albums and songs off the radio. So an mp3 is a fine replacement for a cassette for these ears.

And from January 1st until last weekend, I did just that. I listened to every song I had at least twice, and usually a third time, to make sure every song represented something, a memory, a story, an experience. I listened to 5,500 songs like this, knocked 1,000 off. It was an obsessive, compulsive exercise.

But going through it is like being able to fit every photo from my life into one photo album. Of course I have all my favorite songs from my favorite bands. I have 'Carousel' from the Jacques Brel is Alive and Well and Living in Paris soundtrack, which I used to dance along with like an acid monkey when I was 5. I have a few choice tracks from the first Meat Puppets record, which is one of the most unlistenable records I've ever heard, which is why I used it to send everyone home at parties I threw in college.

And there are definitely songs that I would never even dream of having access too if it weren't for a change in the way music can be compartmentalized in the digital age. I have mp3s from the last Guided by Voices show in New York City ever, where John van Atta gets up on the stage of Irving Plaza, and in a man-hug with lead singer Bob Pollard belts out the drinker's anthem 'Johnny Appleseed' which is going to sound legendary, and at a key point in the song he chokes on his phlegm, gets escorted off stage, and the guy escorting him offstage gets a shout-out from Bob and an ovation from the crowd. I also have an mp3 of my 5-year old niece singing Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

I've built my own personal jukebox/radio. You should all be doing the same.

A way to spend a Sunday

2008-05-18T22:42:00.003-04:00

The best music ever made will never be heard.

Tonight I found myself behind a drum set for the first time in months. In a bad rock factory like Funkadelic Studios, where the paper thin walls bleed bad metal and leaden punk, nothing is gained or lost. For the 10 million bands who slave away in these caves, you'll read 1 successful band bio who forged their sound in an hourly rehearsal studio in Manhattan.

The drums sound awesome in these rooms. A cramped room makes drums sound huge--the sound bounces off the walls and makes everyone playing sound like Dave Grohl. The PA is a piece of shit, there's one good guitar amp out of 4, the bass gets nice and loud, and you get that feeling that you're tearing shit up.

Me and the Johns from Strikes Again! were in such a place, and even on a lazy Sunday afternoon when we'd usually be home watching bowling, the leaky walls and the Stooges-noise led us into an impromptu cover gig. It's the internet, so I feel compelled to report on the results:

Set length: 30 minutes
Attendence: 0
Set list:

(1) Fugazi - Place Position. from 'End Hits'. Ridiculously tight. Especially the third time we played it.

(2) A.C. Newman - On the Table. normal speed version. A.C. Newman is the lead singer of the New Pornographers. If you like Paul McCartney and don't know who Carl Newman is, buy the entire New Pornographers discography, A.C. Newman's solo record 'The Slow Wonder', and Zumpano's 'Goin' Through Changes'. If you don't like McCartney, hug your Yoko doll and piss off.

Speaking of which - for anybody who slags McCartney, listen straight through to Grammy-winning record 'Double Fantasy' by John Lennon and Yoko Ono. If you survive and still find 'Maybe I'm Amazed' and 'Band on the Run' less palatable, call a hospital.

(2b) A.C. Newman - On the Table, slow speed version. Change the speed on some of your favorite songs and power pop becomes heavy metal. We did. (I wonder if 'Love Will Keep us Together' might make a great sludgy metal song.)

(3) Faith No More - Just a Man. People love the Abbey Road medley and the Bohemian Rhapsody, the concept within a song. Concept albums are boring, concept songs are where it's at.

The best way to describe this song is this: You've just borrowed your stepdad's car, driven your Aphrodite to a beautfiful vista overlooking a landfill. You are our protagonist. You study the night sky, and transition your sweet nothings into a stark cautionary tale about Icarus. The earth flips. Replete with gospel choir, you score.

(4) Thank You (falettin me be mice elf again, edit) Turns out it's the same riff over and over. More fun with a horn section.

(5) Guided by Voices - Unleashed! Large-Hearted Boy.
(6) Guided by Voices - "Wished I Was A Giant"

These are two of the best rock songs ever written by the band who brought us together. When you're playing with people you're truly comfortable playing with, who speak the same musical language you do, it's a warmup and an invitation, a revisiting of the musical conversations we've had as frends, as bandmates, as fans of the same music for years and years.

On one level, there's no difference between being in a jam band and being in a punk band, or a jazz band, or a sleepy Sunday afteroon cover band. We all have our experiences, and we fumbled to share them.

But then we found them: Ramones, Sonic Youth, Pixies, Sebadoh. Song after song.

It's rewarding to build a song with a band that works its ass off, rehearses every split second. Strikes Again! has written, recorded and played some amazing rock songs. But in that room, when JVA picked up the drum sticks, and we all knew 'Judy is a Punk', that's friendship.

BTS

2008-05-13T21:40:00.003-04:00

Hey all, I have adjusted to my new day job. It seemed easy - I was supposed to turn lions into lambs all through March. I thought I did a pretty good job, but turns out, there was a *lot* of cleanup in April. And mint jelly.
---------------

This year at the All Tomorrow's Parties festival in the Catskills of New York, there is some serious shit going on. I feel like it's in my head.

The lineup of this festival...so many bands I loved get a chance to play music to the masses. My Bloody Valentine, Meat Puppets, Built to Spill (performing Perfect from Now on, one of my favorite albums of all time). Shellac. Polvo. Mercury Rev?!? Dinosaur Jr.?>? Yo la Tengo? Some guy named Thurston. When did the concert I always wanted to happen decide to do this? This is like Fugazi opening for the Clash opening for Johnny Cash backed by the Stooges opening for the Stones opening for the Beatles opening for me.

I'm not going, damnit. But the band-performing-album-straight-through dynamic is something I am very, very excited about, and hope it sticks. Three quick notes about the records being played at ATP:

(1) Tortoise. Millions of Us are Living and Will Never Die. I'm not extremely familiar with this record, but I'm statutorially familiar with the 21-minute track 'Djed'. I think it's the second track on the album? I will sorely and bacterially miss hearing this track live.

(2) Meat Puppets. Meat Puppets II. Are you kidding me? Are you frakkin kidding me?!?

Any fan of indie rock music secretly hopes that they have the obscure band in the watch pocket. Meat Puppets II was mine. Between St. Louis and Philadelphia, I only met one other person who loved the Meat Puppets. And he wore an oversized lime green blazer. And he was named Shannon. (Shannon, either you're Irish or you're not tucking between your legs, you're just lacking. Own up.)

Then Nirvana went in '93 and covered three Meat Puppets II songs during their Unplugged set and I lost my angle. So yeah, I guess I have a motive for the Cobain killing. I was home knitting. Still, listen to that album.

(3) Built to Spill - Perfect from Now On. The most ironic album title of all time. This album is perfect. Well, nearly perfect--the drums were recorded, carried out to the toolshed, hacked up by the hirsute uncle and pasted to tape with horse glue. But man, this album--

This album can be graphed and scaled. It's the most phenomenally sequenced record ever made. The first song, 'Randy Described Eternity', starts you from the top of your roof and launches you. And the rest is like a Hendrix record.

INTELLIGENCE, Table of Contents

2008-03-17T22:21:00.004-04:00

This posted out of order, 'cos I posted it chronologically. Play along and read it in order.

Part I
Part II
Part III

This
space

intentionally

left

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INTELLIGENCE, Article III

2008-03-17T21:32:00.006-04:00

Have I plateaued the mountainous peak that is the intellect of the average scoundrel aged a decade or more? Again, this purveyor of choice anecdotes stands proudly before his peers, trembling with the anticipation of a gazelle that senses the hunting prowess of the lioness. Oh, to be a giraffe!

TV Reviews

Ha ha! Ha HA, I say! Now we are arriving at a metaphorical ship-christening. Might we assuage the ruffian who, in such a myopic approach to seeking enlightenment, hath instead mistaken a sesquipedalean for an intellectual?

To cement my intellectual standing among junior high school students, the purveyors of pubescent exhilaration (Farrahus Fawcettus Oglus Erectus), I offer the foolproof: insights, new perspectives, remembrances of civilizations past and present, the very philosophies of life that propel us like so many seagulls into so many aeroplane engines at the airport JFK: this knowledge is yours:

Corporate Rock STILL sucks.

Finally, a churlish non-sequitur: I am drawn quite fondly to the machinations of troubadours who engage in superficial deconstructions of the humour of and or pertaining to flatulence.

Intelligence, Pt. 2.

2008-03-17T21:24:00.003-04:00

TV Reviews

Nope. I mean, nay! 'Tis extraordinarily misguided!

Let me try another attempt: Here's an article from the esteemed New England Journal of Medicine entitled "Treatment of Patients with the Hypereosinophilic Syndrome with Mepolizumab", if only because it's the working title of the next Stereolab record.

Marc E. Rothenberg, M.D., Ph.D., Amy D. Klion, M.D., Florence E. Roufosse, M.D., Ph.D., Jean Emmanuel Kahn, M.D., Peter F. Weller, M.D., Hans-Uwe Simon, M.D., Ph.D., Lawrence B. Schwartz, M.D., Ph.D., Lanny J. Rosenwasser, M.D., Johannes Ring, M.D., Ph.D., Elaine F. Griffin, D.Phil., Ann E. Haig, B.S.N., Paul I.H. Frewer, M.Sc., Jacqueline M. Parkin, M.B., B.S., Ph.D., Gerald J. Gleich, M.D., for the Mepolizumab HES Study Group

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ABSTRACT

Background The hypereosinophilic syndrome is a group of diseases characterized by persistent blood eosinophilia, defined as more than 1500 cells per microliter with end-organ involvement and no recognized secondary cause. Although most patients have a response to corticosteroids, side effects are common and can lead to considerable morbidity.

Methods We conducted an international, randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled trial evaluating the safety and efficacy of an anti–interleukin-5 monoclonal antibody, mepolizumab, in patients with the hypereosinophilic syndrome. Patients were negative for the FIP1L1–PDGFRA fusion gene and required prednisone monotherapy, 20 to 60 mg per day, to maintain a stable clinical status and a blood eosinophil count of less than 1000 per microliter. Patients received either intravenous mepolizumab or placebo while the prednisone dose was tapered. The primary end point was the reduction of the prednisone dose to 10 mg or less per day for 8 or more consecutive weeks.

Results The primary end point was reached in 84% of patients in the mepolizumab group, as compared with 43% of patients in the placebo group (hazard ratio, 2.90; 95% confidence interval [CI], 1.59 to 5.26; P<0.001) with no increase in clinical activity of the hypereosinophilic syndrome. A blood eosinophil count of less than 600 per microliter for 8 or more consecutive weeks was achieved in 95% of patients receiving mepolizumab, as compared with 45% of patients receiving placebo (hazard ratio, 3.53; 95% CI, 1.94 to 6.45; P<0.001). Serious adverse events occurred in seven patients receiving mepolizumab (14 events, including one death; mean [±SD] duration of exposure, 6.7±1.9 months) and in five patients receiving placebo (7 events; mean duration of exposure, 4.3±2.6 months).

Conclusions Our study shows that treatment with mepolizumab, an agent designed to target eosinophils, can result in corticosteroid-sparing for patients negative for FIP1L1–PDGFRA who have the hypereosinophilic syndrome. (ClinicalTrials.gov number, NCT00086658 [ClinicalTrials.gov] .)

The hypereosinophilic syndrome consists of several heterogeneous disorders characterized by sustained blood eosinophilia and eosinophil-related end-organ damage, with no identifiable cause, such as parasitic infection.1 The objective of treatment is long-term reduction of blood and tissue eosinophil levels to prevent end-organ damage and thromboembolic events. Except for the myeloproliferative variant of the hypereosinophilic syndrome (associated with the Fip1-like 1–platelet-derived growth factor receptor {alpha} fusion gene [FIP1L1–PDGFRA]), for which imatinib mesylate is considered first-line therapy, current management is based on long-term systemic corticosteroids.1,2,3,4

Eosinophil development from hematopoietic progenitors is regulated mainly by interleukin-5,5 which has a selective role in eosinophil maturation, differentiation, mobilization, activation, and survival.5,6,7,8,9,10,11 Since interleukin-5 appears to contribute to the pathogenesis of some phenotypes of the hypereosinophilic syndrome,12 interleukin-5 inhibition is a logical therapeutic target for this disease.

Mepolizumab is a fully humanized, anti–interleukin-5 monoclonal immunoglobulin G1 antibody with a half-life of approximately 19 days; it does not fix complement.13,14 By binding to free interleukin-5 with high affinity and specificity, it prevents interleukin-5 from associating with the interleukin-5 receptor {alpha} chain on the surface of eosinophils and their progenitors. In preliminary studies of healthy volunteers and patients with atopy, mepolizumab had few side effects and lowered blood eosinophil levels.15,16,17,18,19 Subsequent studies suggested that mepolizumab may have clinical value in patients with the hypereosinophilic syndrome.20,21,22

After these initial reports, we conducted a randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled trial of targeted therapy for patients with the hypereosinophilic syndrome. Our aim was to evaluate the effects of mepolizumab on corticosteroid sparing and the maintenance of clinical stability in patients with disease that requires control with the use of corticosteroids.

Methods

Study Population

The study patients were 18 to 85 years of age and had the hypereosinophilic syndrome (defined as a blood eosinophil count >1500 per microliter for ≥6 months and eosinophilia-related organ involvement or dysfunction, with no identifiable secondary cause of eosinophilia23). All patients were negative for the FIP1L1–PDGFRA fusion gene, on the basis of in situ hybridization to detect deletion of the cysteine-rich hydrophobic domain 2 (CHIC2) locus, a FIP1L1–PDGFRA surrogate, in peripheral-blood mononuclear cells.24

Study Design

Our randomized, double-blind, placebo-controlled, parallel-group, multicenter study, involved 26 sites in the United States, Canada, Belgium, France, Germany, Italy, Switzerland, and Australia. It was conducted from March 2004 through March 2006. After screening, patients entered a run-in period of up to 6 weeks, during which noncorticosteroid medications for the hypereosinophilic syndrome were discontinued and prednisone monotherapy (20 to 60 mg per day for at least 1 week) was administered to achieve a stable clinical status (defined as no new or worsening clinical signs or symptoms of the hypereosinophilic syndrome and a blood eosinophil count of <1000 per microliter). Methylprednisolone, prednisolone, or triamcinolone could be used at a dose equivalent to that of prednisone, at the investigator's discretion. (See Supplementary Appendix 1, available with the full text of this article at www.nejm.org, for details on blinding, exclusion criteria, eosinophil-derived neurotoxin enzyme-linked immunosorbent assay methods, and corticosteroid conversion.)

Patients whose clinical symptoms were stabilized with the use of prednisone monotherapy (20 to 60 mg per day) or the equivalent were randomly assigned in a one-to-one ratio to receive intravenous infusions of either mepolizumab (750 mg) or placebo (saline) and were stratified according to the daily prednisone dose (≤30 mg or >30 mg) at baseline. Mepolizumab or placebo was administered every 4 weeks during a 36-week period (final infusion at week 32). The prednisone dose was tapered, starting at week 1, using a predefined algorithm based on eosinophil counts and clinical manifestations of the hypereosinophilic syndrome (Figure 1A). Week 32 was the last visit at which a taper dose could be prescribed; the patient then took that dose until week 36, the end of the treatment period. This approach to corticosteroid dosing was used to maintain control by allowing for corticosteroid rescue therapy for disease flares.

Figure 1
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Figure 1. Study Design and Enrollment and Follow-up of Patients.

Panel A illustrates the study design and the prednisone tapering algorithm. The dose of prednisone (or equivalent) was adjusted at weekly clinic visits according to the blood eosinophil count and the clinical activity of the hypereosinophilic syndrome (HES). At the discretion of the investigator, tapering below 20 mg per day could have been achieved through alternate-day dosing, and tapering below 10 mg per day could have been more gradual, with a decrease in dose of less than 2.5 mg per day per week. Panel B shows the screening, enrollment, random assignment, and follow-up of patients. Patients could have had more than one type of protocol violation.

Patients who completed the trial or withdrew early but received at least two doses of the study drug entered an open-label extension study evaluating the long-term safety, efficacy, and optimal dosing frequency of intravenous mepolizumab. Patients choosing not to continue in the extension study completed a safety follow-up visit 3 months after their last dose of study medication.

Clinical Efficacy

The primary end point was the reduction of the prednisone dose to 10 mg or less per day (or the equivalent) for 8 or more consecutive weeks. A prednisone dose of 10 mg or less per day was considered clinically meaningful and a response lasting 8 weeks was considered durable. All end points were analyzed with the use of data from the intention-to-treat population (85 patients who provided written informed consent, were randomly assigned to a study drug, and received at least one dose). The primary end point data were confirmed in a modified per-protocol population (78 patients). Protocol violations (by two patients in the placebo group and five in the mepolizumab group) included a lack of documented history of the hypereosinophilic syndrome, use of unapproved concomitant medications, inability to stabilize the prednisone dose within the specified range during screening, and a prednisone dose of less than 20 mg per day at study entry. Data from the patients who violated the protocol were included in the intention-to-treat analysis.

Secondary end points were a blood eosinophil count of less than 600 per microliter for 8 or more consecutive weeks, the time to treatment failure (defined as clinical worsening requiring other therapy for the hypereosinophilic syndrome, a prednisone dose of >60 mg per day, or withdrawal from the study for any reason), a prednisone dose of 7.5 mg or less per day, receipt of no prednisone for 1 day or more, the mean daily prednisone dose at week 36, and a prednisone dose of 10 mg or less per day by week 20 and for 8 or more consecutive weeks. Post hoc exploratory end points included a prednisone dose of 10 mg or less per day for 24 or more weeks and the receipt of no prednisone during the treatment period, maintained until study completion.

We assessed the effects of the study drug on physical or psychological symptoms of the hypereosinophilic syndrome, health status, and limitations of daily living, using the Medical Outcomes Study 12-item Short Form General Health Survey (SF-12) (version 2) physical and mental component summary scores and the Rotterdam Symptom Checklist.

Safety

Safety was assessed with the use of adverse event reports, laboratory tests (clinical chemical and hematologic tests and urinalysis), electrocardiograms, physical examinations, and vital signs recorded both before and after infusion.

Statistical Analysis

We calculated that 84 patients who could be evaluated (42 per study group) would be required to provide a statistical power of 90%, at a two-sided significance level of 5%, to detect a difference of 33% between the two study groups in the percentage of patients in whom in the primary end point was reached (assuming the percentage of patients with a prednisone dose of ≤10 mg per day for ≥8 weeks was 80% in the mepolizumab group and 47% in the placebo group). Differences in the incidences of the primary end point were tested using a Cochran–Mantel–Haenszel test, with stratification according to the prednisone (or the equivalent) dose (≤30 mg or >30 mg) at baseline, at a 5% two-sided significance level in the intention-to-treat population. In the primary prespecified analysis, odds ratios were also calculated. Relative risks (without stratification on the basis of prednisone dose at baseline) and hazard ratios (with stratification) were also calculated in post-hoc analyses. The proportional-hazards assumption was assessed by inspection of the log–log survival curves.

Adverse events were also summarized. A log-rank test was used to compare the time to an adverse event between the two study groups, including data from patients who withdrew from the study.

An investigator advisory board, including the authors and the sponsor, designed the study, with scientific guidance from the Food and Drug Administration and the European Committee for Proprietary Medicinal Products. The sponsor was responsible for data collection and quality control and held the data but made them available, after ensuring confidentiality, to all the authors. All the authors analyzed and interpreted the data, wrote the manuscript, made the decision to publish, and vouch for the completeness and accuracy of the data.

Results

Baseline Characteristics

Of the 107 patients screened, 85 were randomly assigned to treatment with mepolizumab (43 patients) or placebo (42 patients). The majority of patients in the mepolizumab group (36 of 43 [84%]) completed the trial, as compared with only 15 of 42 (36%) in the placebo group (Figure 1B). The most common reason for withdrawal was lack of efficacy (5 of 43 patients [12%] receiving mepolizumab and 21 of 42 [50%] receiving placebo).

There were no significant differences in demographic or disease characteristics between the study groups at the time of randomization (Table 1). Of note, the mean duration of disease was more than 5 years, and the majority of patients (82%) reported at least one clinical manifestation of the hypereosinophilic syndrome.

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Table 1. Baseline Demographic and Disease Characteristics in the Intention-to-Treat Population.

Efficacy

Prednisone-Sparing Effects

Overall, for 36 patients (84%) receiving mepolizumab and 18 (43%) receiving placebo, the prednisone dose was reduced to ≤10 mg per day for ≥8 consecutive weeks during the 36-week treatment period (primary end point) (hazard ratio, 2.90; 95% confidence interval [CI], 1.59 to 5.26; P<0.001) (Table 2 and Figure 2A). Similar results were obtained when the primary end point was analyzed for the modified per-protocol population of 78 patients (hazard ratio, 3.27; 95% CI, 1.73 to 6.18; P<0.001). A significant difference between the two study groups was also found for the subgroups of prednisone dose at baseline, being more pronounced among patients requiring more than 30 mg per day than among those requiring 30 mg or less per day (Table 2). In the placebo group, the primary end point was more likely to be reached among patients who had been receiving 30 mg or less of prednisone at baseline (17 of 30 patients [57%]) than among those who had been receiving more than 30 mg (1 of 12 [8%]). In contrast, in the mepolizumab group, 26 of the 30 patients (87%) who had been receiving 30 mg or less of prednisone at baseline were responders, as were 10 of 13 (77%) who had been receiving more than 30 mg.

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Table 2. Effects of Treatment on Corticosteroid Use and Eosinophil Counts in the Intention-to-Treat Population.

Figure 2
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Figure 2. Efficacy of Mepolizumab Treatment.

Panel A shows the percentage of patients in whom the prednisone dose was reduced to 10 mg or less per day (or the equivalent) for 8 or more consecutive weeks (the primary end point). Panel B shows the percentage of patients in whom the prednisone dose was reduced to 10 mg or less per day for 24 or more consecutive weeks. Panel C shows the percentage of patients in whom the blood eosinophil count was maintained at or below 600 per microliter for 8 or more consecutive weeks. Panel D shows the mean prednisone (or the equivalent) daily dose during the study. The last-observation-carried-forward (LOCF) data are those from the second infusion onward. Panel E is a Kaplan–Meier plot of the time to treatment failure (defined as clinical worsening requiring other therapy for the hypereosinophilic syndrome, a prednisone dose of >60 mg per day, or study withdrawal for any reason) in the intention-to-treat population. Panel F shows the mean serum eosinophil-derived neurotoxin (EDN) values. The I bars in Panels D and F indicate standard errors.

All secondary and exploratory efficacy end points significantly favored the use of mepolizumab (P<0.001) (Table 2 and Figure 2B). Figure 2D shows the mean prednisone dose used during the study. (Additional efficacy analyses, with stratification on the basis of achievement of the primary end point and status of study completion, are presented in Supplementary Appendix 3.)

Blood Eosinophil Counts and Eosinophil-Derived Neurotoxin Levels

A blood eosinophil count of less than 600 per microliter for 8 or more consecutive weeks was reached in 41 of the 43 patients (95%) receiving mepolizumab, as compared with 19 of the 42 (45%) receiving placebo (P<0.001; hazard ratio, 3.53; 95% CI, 1.94 to 6.45) (Table 2 and Figure 2C). The difference between the study groups for this end point was significant in both subgroups of baseline prednisone dose (≤30 mg and >30 mg). Mean serum eosinophil-derived neurotoxin levels were significantly different between the two study groups at all time points evaluated (P<0.001, P<0.001, and P=0.005 for reductions between the mepolizumab group and the placebo group at weeks 12, 24, and 36, respectively) (Figure 2F).

Time to Treatment Failure

The time to treatment failure (defined as the number of days to clinical worsening requiring other therapy for the hypereosinophilic syndrome or an increase in the prednisone dose to >60 mg per day) was significantly shorter in the placebo group than in the mepolizumab group (P<0.001 by the log-rank test). Nine of 43 patients (21%) receiving mepolizumab and 29 of 42 (69%) receiving placebo had treatment failure. The median time to treatment failure in the placebo group was 136.5 days (95% CI, 106 to 199; Figure 2E); corresponding data could not be calculated for mepolizumab, since less than half the patients receiving that drug had treatment failure.

Health Outcomes

No significant differences between treatments were observed in the changes from baseline in SF-12 physical and mental component summary scores (Table 2) or the Rotterdam Symptom Checklist (Supplementary Appendix 3).

Safety

The mean (±SD) duration of exposure to study drug (defined as the time between the first and last infusions) was greater in the mepolizumab group (6.7±1.9 months) than in the placebo group (4.3±2.6 months) because of a lower withdrawal rate. Despite the longer exposure to mepolizumab, adverse events were reported at similar rates in the two study groups: 40 of 43 patients (93%) receiving mepolizumab and 41 of 42 (98%) receiving placebo (Table 3). An adverse event considered by the investigator to be related to the study drug occurred in 16 of 43 patients (37%) in the mepolizumab group and in 12 of 42 (29%) in the placebo group (Table 3). One patient receiving mepolizumab and four receiving placebo had adverse events leading to withdrawal; none of these events were considered by the investigator to be related to study drug. No clinically relevant trends or major safety concerns emerged from evaluation of the laboratory tests, vital signs, or electrocardiographic results.

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Table 3. Adverse Events Reported during the 36-Week Study.

Serious adverse events occurred in seven patients receiving mepolizumab (14 events, including one death) and five patients receiving placebo (7 events) (Table 3), but none were deemed by the investigator to be related to the study drug. Serious adverse events in the mepolizumab group were asthma, clinical flares of the hypereosinophilic syndrome, pneumonia, renal failure, bronchitis, cardiac arrest, dehydration, hepatitis, pancreatitis, pyrexia, rhinitis, and spinal compression fracture. Serious adverse events in the placebo group were clinical flares of the hypereosinophilic syndrome, pneumonia, dysesthesia, eosinophilia, nephrotic syndrome, osteonecrosis, and polyneuropathy. An 18-year-old man with severe hypereosinophilic syndrome and a history of multiple cardiovascular coexisting conditions died 110 days after his first mepolizumab infusion, and 26 days after his fourth and last infusion, from a cardiac arrest attributed to dysrhythmia and internal pacemaker–defibrillator failure. (Supplementary Appendixes 2 and 4 contain additional information about adverse events.)

Discussion

The hypereosinophilic syndrome is a potentially severe and debilitating multisystem disorder associated with considerable morbidity, in part due to the side effects of treatments currently used for it. We report evidence that corticosteroid-sparing is enabled by mepolizumab in patients negative for FIP1L1–PDGFRA with the hypereosinophilic syndrome. Treatment with prednisone, which could be discontinued until study completion, was able to be stopped during the study in almost 50% of patients receiving mepolizumab.

Mepolizumab also was significantly more effective than placebo at stabilizing blood eosinophil counts. These effects are clinically relevant, given that reducing eosinophil levels is currently the primary treatment goal for patients with the hypereosinophilic syndrome and that long-term corticosteroid therapy is associated with a range of undesirable side effects.26,27,28 Since the corticosteroid threshold associated with clinically significant toxic effects has been established at approximately 7.5 mg per day of prednisone equivalent,27 it is notable that a prednisone dose of 7.5 mg or less per day in this study was achieved in significantly more patients receiving mepolizumab than in those receiving placebo.

No significant differences were found between the two study groups in SF-12 (version 2) assessments, which may reflect the protocol requirements for disease to be clinically stable at baseline and for stability to be maintained in order for the patient to remain in the trial. As such, the quality of life, as measured by the SF-12 survey, did not deteriorate during the study period. In addition, the baseline mental-component summary score in the mepolizumab group was similar to that for the general U.S. population,25 indicating that with treatment, patients did not feel impaired by their disease, making it difficult to show an improvement. The study population was composed of relatively young patients who were negative for FIP1L1–PDGFRA and had long-standing corticosteroid-responsive hypereosinophilic syndrome. The corticosteroid-sparing effects observed in our study suggest that mepolizumab has substantial potential to reduce treatment-related morbidity. Because this study was limited to patients who were receiving corticosteroid therapy and whose hypereosinophilic syndrome was clinically well controlled, no recommendations can be inferred regarding the use of mepolizumab for patients with acute presentations or who have not yet received corticosteroid therapy. The same holds true for patients with the hypereosinophilic syndrome that is unresponsive to systemic corticosteroids, as well as those positive for FIP1L1–PDGFRA.29

Mean serum interleukin-5 values at baseline were below the limit of detection (7.8 pg per milliliter) in most patients (Table 1). Such normal serum interleukin-5 levels are probably due to corticosteroid-induced suppression, since patients' symptoms were stabilized by means of corticosteroid therapy before randomization. The efficacy of mepolizumab in patients with physiologic levels of interleukin-5 suggests that this agent should not be reserved for patients with elevated serum interleukin-5 levels. Our results provide evidence that endogenous interleukin-5 in these patients with the hypereosinophilic syndrome has a critical role in regulating peripheral eosinophilia.

Our study assessed the effects of mepolizumab administered monthly during a 36-week treatment period, whereas previous studies of mepolizumab evaluated 12 weeks of treatment.15,17,18,22,30 Several of these studies focused on the treatment of asthma, showing significant reductions in blood, sputum, and bronchial eosinophil counts and safety but limited efficacy as measured by pulmonary-function testing.15,16,17,18 Much remains to be learned about the relation between blood and tissue eosinophilia and clinical response to treatment in patients with asthma and the hypereosinophilic syndrome. Although the number of patients in our trial was small, the preliminary findings suggest that the likelihood of achieving the primary end point with the use of mepolizumab was high in the patients with current conditions related to the hypereosinophilic syndrome. The primary end point was reached in 17 of the 19 patients with respiratory disorders, 5 of the 5 with cardiac disorders, 8 of the 8 with gastrointestinal disorders, 5 of the 6 with musculoskeletal disorders, and 8 of the 9 with nervous-system disorders, although in only 11 of the 16 patients with skin or subcutaneous manifestations (Table 1, and Supplementary Appendix 5).

In theory, since interleukin-5 potently primes eosinophils for enhanced responsiveness to activating signals,6 anti–interleukin-5 may be particularly helpful for reducing the eosinophil-mediated end-organ pathologic characteristics typically associated with the hypereosinophilic syndrome. Tissue and vascular damage results in part from the release of granule proteins, and mepolizumab treatment was associated with significant reductions in eosinophil-derived neurotoxin levels in our study (Figure 2F). In addition, the chronic tissue damage associated with the hypereosinophilic syndrome is thought to be mediated by eosinophil infiltration, and mepolizumab probably decreases tissue eosinophil levels in patients with the syndrome.21,22

Adverse effects were found in the mepolizumab group. One patient receiving mepolizumab had a fatal cardiac arrest, which was not considered to be drug-related by the investigator, who was unaware of the group assignment. Adverse events considered drug-related by the investigator were similar between the mepolizumab group and the placebo group. This finding is noteworthy, since the duration of exposure to study drug was approximately 56% longer for mepolizumab than for placebo, owing to the greater dropout rate (because of lack of efficacy) in the placebo group. In addition, some adverse events in both groups may have resulted from prednisone withdrawal rather than use of the study drug.

An ongoing, open-label extension trial, involving 78 patients from the current trial, will provide long-term information on potential safety issues, efficacy assessments, and optimal dosing frequency (see Supplementary Appendix 4 for details). This trial will help address whether long-term treatment with mepolizumab will durably reduce eosinophil counts while controlling disease.

In conclusion, our study demonstrated that mepolizumab treatment enabled clinically significant reductions in corticosteroid dose, and often corticosteroid discontinuation, in patients negative for FIP1L1–PDGFRA who had the hypereosinophilic syndrome. This proof-of-concept study shows that administration of anti–interleukin-5 antibodies, an eosinophil-specific and targeted therapy, has a potential clinical benefit.

Supported by grants from GlaxoSmithKline, the National Institutes of Health (M01 RR00064 and AI61097, to Dr. Gleich, and MO1 RR001032, to the Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center), U.S. Public Health Service General Clinical Research Center (M01 RR 08084, to the Cincinnati Children's Medical Center), and the Intramural Research Program of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases.

Dr. Rothenberg reports receiving lecture fees from Merck and consulting fees from GlaxoSmithKline, Ception Therapeutics, Merck, and Cambridge Antibody Technology and having equity interests in Ception Therapeutics. Drs. Roufosse and Kahn report receiving consulting fees from GlaxoSmithKline. Dr. Weller reports receiving consulting fees from GlaxoSmithKline, Medimmune, Genzyme, and Microbia. Dr. Simon reports receiving consulting fees from GlaxoSmithKline, Pfizer, and Novartis and grant support from GlaxoSmithKline. Dr. Schwartz reports receiving consulting fees from GlaxoSmithKline, Genentech, and Novartis; royalties from Phadia through Virginia Commonwealth University for tryptase immunoassay licensing rights; and grant support from GlaxoSmithKline, the Philip Morris Foundation, and Pharming. Dr. Rosenwasser reports receiving consulting fees from Abbott Laboratories, Alcon Laboratories, Regeneron, GlaxoSmithKline, Novartis, AstraZeneca, and Genentech and lecture fees from Alcon Laboratories, Genentech, and Novartis. Dr. Ring reports receiving consulting fees from Astellas, Novartis, GlaxoSmithKline, and Schering-Plough. Dr. Griffin reports having been an employee of GlaxoSmithKline. Ms. Haig, Mr. Frewer, and Dr. Parkin report having equity interests in and being employees of GlaxoSmithKline. Dr. Gleich reports receiving consulting fees from GlaxoSmithKline, Genentech, and Novartis; lecture fees from Novartis, Genentech, and Sepracor; royalties from the Mayo Clinic for discoveries and patents; grant support from Jerini, Novartis, and GlaxoSmithKline; and having equity interests in Ception. No other potential conflict of interest relevant to this article was reported.

We thank the members of the medical, nursing, and research staff at the trial centers for their invaluable contributions to this study, as well as Ellen Lewis, Ph.D., for assistance with preparation of a previous version of the manuscript.

* Members of the Mepolizumab Hypereosinophilic Syndrome (HES) Study Group are listed in the Appendix.

Source Information

From the Cincinnati Children's Hospital Medical Center, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati (M.E.R.); the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, Bethesda, MD (A.D.K.); Service de Médecine Interne, Hôpital Erasme, Université Libre de Bruxelles, and the Institute for Medical Immunology, Gosselies, Belgium (F.E.R.); Service de Médecine Interne, Hôpital Foch, Suresnes, France (J.E.K.); Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, Harvard Medical School, Boston (P.F.W.); the University of Bern, Bern, Switzerland (H.-U.S.); Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond (L.B.S.); Children's Mercy Hospital, Kansas City, MO (L.J.R.); Technische Universität München, Munich, Germany (J.R.); Envision Pharma, Horsham, United Kingdom (E.F.G.); GlaxoSmithKline, King of Prussia, PA (A.E.H.); GlaxoSmithKline, Middlesex, United Kingdom (P.I.H.F., J.M.P.); and University of Utah School of Medicine, Salt Lake City (G.J.G.).

This article (10.1056/NEJMoa070812) was published at www.nejm.org on March 16, 2008. It will appear in the March 20 issue of the Journal.

Address reprint requests to Dr. Rothenberg at the Division of Allergy and Immunology, Department of Pediatrics, Cincinnati Children's Hospital and Medical Center, 3333 Burnet Ave., Cincinnati, OH 45229, or at rothenberg@cchmc.org.

References

1. Klion AD, Bochner BS, Gleich GJ, et al. Approaches to the treatment of hypereosinophilic syndromes: a workshop summary report. J Allergy Clin Immunol 2006;117:1292-a-1302. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
2. Gleich GJ, Leiferman KM. The hypereosinophilic syndromes: still more heterogeneity. Curr Opin Immunol 2005;17:679-684. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
3. Roufosse F, Goldman M, Cogan E. Hypereosinophilic syndrome: lymphoproliferative and myeloproliferative variants. Semin Respir Crit Care Med 2006;27:158-170. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
4. Wilkins HJ, Crane MM, Copeland K, Williams WV. Hypereosinophilic syndrome: an update. Am J Hematol 2005;80:148-157. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
5. Kariyawasam HH, Robinson DS. The eosinophil: the cell and its weapons, the cytokines, its locations. Semin Respir Crit Care Med 2006;27:117-127. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
6. Rothenberg ME, Hogan SP. The eosinophil. Annu Rev Immunol 2006;24:147-174. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
7. Lopez AF, Sanderson CJ, Gamble JR, Campbell HD, Young IG, Vadas MA. Recombinant human interleukin 5 is a selective activator of human eosinophil function. J Exp Med 1988;167:219-224. [Free Full Text]
8. Clutterbuck EJ, Hirst EM, Sanderson CJ. Human interleukin-5 (IL-5) regulates the production of eosinophils in human bone marrow cultures: comparison and interaction with IL-1, IL-3, IL-6, and GMCSF. Blood 1989;73:1504-1512. [Free Full Text]
9. Sanderson CJ. Interleukin-5, eosinophils, and disease. Blood 1992;79:3101-3109. [Free Full Text]
10. Simon D, Braathen LR, Simon H-U. Eosinophils and atopic dermatitis. Allergy 2004;59:561-570. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
11. Sutton SA, Assa'ad AH, Rothenberg ME. Anti-IL-5 and hypereosinophilic syndromes. Clin Immunol 2005;115:51-60. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
12. Schrezenmeier H, Thomé SD, Tewald F, Fleischer B, Raghavachar A. Interleukin-5 is the predominant eosinophilopoietin produced by cloned T lymphocytes in hypereosinophilic syndrome. Exp Hematol 1993;21:358-365. [ISI][Medline]
13. Cook R, Applebaum R, Cusimano D, et al. Biological and biophysical characteristics of SB 240563, a high affinity humanized monoclonal antibody to IL-5. Am J Crit Care Med 1998;157:A604.
14. Hart TK, Cook RM, Zia-Amirhosseini P, et al. Preclinical efficacy and safety of mepolizumab (SB-240563), a humanized monoclonal antibody to IL-5, in cynomolgus monkeys. J Allergy Clin Immunol 2001;108:250-257. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
15. Büttner C, Lun A, Splettstoesser T, Kunkel G, Renz H. Monoclonal anti-interleukin-5 treatment suppresses eosinophil but not T-cell functions. Eur Respir J 2003;21:799-803. [Free Full Text]
16. Leckie MJ, ten Brinke A, Khan J, et al. Effects of an interleukin-5 blocking monoclonal antibody on eosinophils, airway hyper-responsiveness, and the late asthmatic response. Lancet 2000;356:2144-2148. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
17. Flood-Page PT, Menzies-Gow AN, Kay AB, Robinson DS. Eosinophil's role remains uncertain as anti-interleukin-5 only partially depletes numbers in asthmatic airway. Am J Respir Crit Care Med 2003;167:199-204. [Free Full Text]
18. Menzies-Gow A, Flood-Page P, Sehmi R, et al. Anti-IL-5 (mepolizumab) therapy induces bone marrow eosinophil maturational arrest and decreases eosinophil progenitors in the bronchial mucosa of atopic asthmatics. J Allergy Clin Immunol 2003;111:714-719. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
19. Oldhoff JM, Darsow U, Werfel T, et al. Anti-IL-5 recombinant humanized monoclonal antibody (mepolizumab) for the treatment of atopic dermatitis. Allergy 2005;60:693-696. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
20. Koury MJ, Newman JH, Murray JJ. Reversal of hypereosinophilic syndrome and lymphomatoid papulosis with mepolizumab and imatinib. Am J Med 2003;115:587-589. [ISI][Medline]
21. Plötz SG, Simon H-U, Darsow U, et al. Use of an anti-interleukin-5 antibody in the hypereosinophilic syndrome with eosinophilic dermatitis. N Engl J Med 2003;349:2334-2339. [Free Full Text]
22. Garrett JK, Jameson SC, Thomson B, et al. Anti-interleukin-5 (mepolizumab) therapy for hypereosinophilic syndromes. J Allergy Clin Immunol 2004;113:115-119. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]
23. Chusid MJ, Dale DC, West BC, Wolff SM. The hypereosinophilic syndrome: analysis of fourteen cases with review of the literature. Medicine (Baltimore) 1975;54:1-27. [Medline]
24. Pardanani A, Ketterling RP, Brockman SR, et al. CHIC2 deletion, a surrogate for FIP1L1-PDGFRA fusion, occurs in systemic mastocytosis associated with eosinophilia and predicts response to imatinib mesylate therapy. Blood 2003;102:3093-3096. [Free Full Text]
25. Ware JE, Kosinski M, Keller SD. SF-12: how to score the SF-12 Physical and Mental Health Summary Scales. Boston: The Health Institute, New England Medical Center, 1995.
26. Stanbury RM, Graham EM. Systemic corticosteroid therapy -- side effects and their management. Br J Ophthalmol 1998;82:704-708. [Free Full Text]
27. Wei L, MacDonald TM, Walker BR. Taking glucocorticoids by prescription is associated with subsequent cardiovascular disease. Ann Intern Med 2004;141:764-770. [Free Full Text]
28. Rhen T, Cidlowski JA. Antiinflammatory action of glucocorticoids -- new mechanisms for old drugs. N Engl J Med 2005;353:1711-1723. [Free Full Text]
29. Klion AD, Law MA, Noel P, Kim YJ, Haverty TP, Nutman TB. Safety and efficacy of the monoclonal anti-interleukin-5 antibody SCH55700 in the treatment of patients with hypereosinophilic syndrome. Blood 2004;103:2939-2941. [Free Full Text]
30. Phipps S, Flood-Page P, Menzies-Gow A, Ong YE, Kay AB. Intravenous anti-IL-5 monoclonal antibody reduces eosinophils and tenascin deposition in allergen-challenged human atopic skin. J Invest Dermatol 2004;122:1406-1412. [CrossRef][ISI][Medline]

Appendix

In addition to the authors, the members of the Mepolizumab HES Study Group are as follows: Australia: Sir Charles Gairdner Hospital, Perth — A. Singh, D. Joske; Royal North Shore Hospital, Sydney — L. Coyle; Mater Adult Hospital, Brisbane — K. Taylor; Royal Melbourne Hospital, Melbourne — J. Szer; Belgium: University Hospital Gasthuisberg, Leuven — D. Blockmans, G. Verhoef; Canada: Royal Victoria Hospital, Montreal — W. Carey; McMaster University, Hamilton, ON — J. Denburg; Cancer Care Nova Scotia, Halifax, NS — A. Padmos; University of Toronto, Toronto — N. Shear; Winnipeg Clinic, Winnipeg, MB — V. Taraska; France: Hôpital Foch, Suresnes — O. Blétry; Claude-Huriez Hospital, Lille — P.-Y. Hatron; Germany: Hannover Medical School, Hannover — A. Ganser; Rheumaklinik Bad Bramstedt and Universitätsklinikum Schleswig-Holstein, Bad Bramstedt — W. Gross; Italy: L. and A. Seràgnoli, University of Bologna, Bologna — M. Baccarani; Switzerland: Dermatologische Universitätsklinik und Poliklinik, Inselspital Bern, Bern — L.R. Braathen; United States: Cincinnati Children's Hospital Medical Center, Cincinnati — A. Assa'ad; University of Wisconsin School of Medicine, Madison — W. Busse; Mayo Clinic, Rochester, MN — J. Butterfield; University of Utah Health Sciences Center, Salt Lake City — K. Leiferman; Vanderbilt University Medical Center, Nashville — J. Murray, D. Hagaman; University of California San Diego School of Medicine, San Diego — J. Ramsdell; Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, Boston — J. Sheikh; National Institutes of Health, Bethesda, MD — C.A. Talar-Williams; University of Texas M.D. Anderson Cancer Center, Houston — S. Verstovsek; National Jewish Medical and Research Center, Denver — R. Weber.

Intelligence

2008-03-17T21:14:00.006-04:00

Saw this meme over at misanthrope's and I'd thought I'd give it a shot:

Movie Reviews

Oops. As an experiment, let me try posting the entire length of The Gettysburg Address and T.S. Eliot's "The Waste Land". I want to see if it affects my score.

Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation: conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war. . .testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated. . . can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war.

We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate. . .we cannot consecrate. . . we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember, what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us. . .that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion. . . that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain. . . that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom. . . and that government of the people. . .by the people. . .for the people. . . shall not perish from the earth.
------------------
To err is human, to deflower, divine.
------------------

The Waste Land

I. THE BURIAL OF THE DEAD

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
Frisch weht der Wind
Der Heimat zu.
Mein Irisch Kind,
Wo weilest du?
'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
—Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.

Madame Sosostris, famous clairvoyante,
Had a bad cold, nevertheless
Is known to be the wisest woman in Europe,
With a wicked pack of cards. Here, said she,
Is your card, the drowned Phoenician Sailor,
(Those are pearls that were his eyes. Look!)
Here is Belladonna, the Lady of the Rocks,
The lady of situations.
Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water.
I see crowds of people, walking round in a ring.
Thank you. If you see dear Mrs. Equitone,
Tell her I bring the horoscope myself:
One must be so careful these days.

Unreal City,
Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,
I had not thought death had undone so many.
Sighs, short and infrequent, were exhaled,
And each man fixed his eyes before his feet.
Flowed up the hill and down King William Street,
To where Saint Mary Woolnoth kept the hours
With a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
There I saw one I knew, and stopped him, crying 'Stetson!
'You who were with me in the ships at Mylae!
'That corpse you planted last year in your garden,
'Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?
'Or has the sudden frost disturbed its bed?
'Oh keep the Dog far hence, that's friend to men,
'Or with his nails he'll dig it up again!
'You! hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frère!'

II. A GAME OF CHESS

THE Chair she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Glowed on the marble, where the glass
Held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
From which a golden Cupidon peeped out
(Another hid his eyes behind his wing)
Doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
Reflecting light upon the table as
The glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
From satin cases poured in rich profusion;
In vials of ivory and coloured glass
Unstoppered, lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
Unguent, powdered, or liquid—troubled, confused
And drowned the sense in odours; stirred by the air
That freshened from the window, these ascended
In fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
Flung their smoke into the laquearia,
Stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
Huge sea-wood fed with copper
Burned green and orange, framed by the coloured stone,
In which sad light a carvèd dolphin swam.
Above the antique mantel was displayed
As though a window gave upon the sylvan scene
The change of Philomel, by the barbarous king
So rudely forced; yet there the nightingale
Filled all the desert with inviolable voice
And still she cried, and still the world pursues,
'Jug Jug' to dirty ears.
And other withered stumps of time
Were told upon the walls; staring forms
Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
Footsteps shuffled on the stair.
Under the firelight, under the brush, her hair
Spread out in fiery points
Glowed into words, then would be savagely still.

'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.
'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.
'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?
'I never know what you are thinking. Think.'

I think we are in rats' alley
Where the dead men lost their bones.

'What is that noise?'
The wind under the door.
'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?'
Nothing again nothing.
'Do
'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember
'Nothing?'
I remember
Those are pearls that were his eyes.
'Are you alive, or not? Is there nothing in your head?'
But
O O O O that Shakespeherian Rag—
It's so elegant
So intelligent
'What shall I do now? What shall I do?'
'I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
'With my hair down, so. What shall we do to-morrow?
'What shall we ever do?'
The hot water at ten.
And if it rains, a closed car at four.
And we shall play a game of chess,
Pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.

When Lil's husband got demobbed, I said—
I didn't mince my words, I said to her myself,
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Now Albert's coming back, make yourself a bit smart.
He'll want to know what you done with that money he gave you
To get yourself some teeth. He did, I was there.
You have them all out, Lil, and get a nice set,
He said, I swear, I can't bear to look at you.
And no more can't I, I said, and think of poor Albert,
He's been in the army four years, he wants a good time,
And if you don't give it him, there's others will, I said.
Oh is there, she said. Something o' that, I said.
Then I'll know who to thank, she said, and give me a straight look.
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
If you don't like it you can get on with it, I said.
Others can pick and choose if you can't.
But if Albert makes off, it won't be for lack of telling.
You ought to be ashamed, I said, to look so antique.
(And her only thirty-one.)
I can't help it, she said, pulling a long face,
It's them pills I took, to bring it off, she said.
(She's had five already, and nearly died of young George.)
The chemist said it would be alright, but I've never been the same.
You are a proper fool, I said.
Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
What you get married for if you don't want children?
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot—
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Goonight Bill. Goonight Lou. Goonight May. Goonight.
Ta ta. Goonight. Goonight.
Good night, ladies, good night, sweet ladies, good night, good night.

III. THE FIRE SERMON

THE river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf
Clutch and sink into the wet bank. The wind
Crosses the brown land, unheard. The nymphs are departed.
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.
The river bears no empty bottles, sandwich papers,
Silk handkerchiefs, cardboard boxes, cigarette ends
Or other testimony of summer nights. The nymphs are departed.
And their friends, the loitering heirs of city directors;
Departed, have left no addresses.
By the waters of Leman I sat down and wept...
Sweet Thames, run softly till I end my song,
Sweet Thames, run softly, for I speak not loud or long.
But at my back in a cold blast I hear
The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.

A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I was fishing in the dull canal
On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
Musing upon the king my brother's wreck
And on the king my father's death before him.
White bodies naked on the low damp ground
And bones cast in a little low dry garret,
Rattled by the rat's foot only, year to year.
But at my back from time to time I hear
The sound of horns and motors, which shall bring
Sweeney to Mrs. Porter in the spring.
O the moon shone bright on Mrs. Porter
And on her daughter
They wash their feet in soda water
Et, O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!

Twit twit twit
Jug jug jug jug jug jug
So rudely forc'd.
Tereu

Unreal City
Under the brown fog of a winter noon
Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
Unshaven, with a pocket full of currants
C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
Asked me in demotic French
To luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

At the violet hour, when the eyes and back
Turn upward from the desk, when the human engine waits
Like a taxi throbbing waiting,
I Tiresias, though blind, throbbing between two lives,
Old man with wrinkled female breasts, can see
At the violet hour, the evening hour that strives
Homeward, and brings the sailor home from sea,
The typist home at teatime, clears her breakfast, lights
Her stove, and lays out food in tins.
Out of the window perilously spread
Her drying combinations touched by the sun's last rays,
On the divan are piled (at night her bed)
Stockings, slippers, camisoles, and stays.
I Tiresias, old man with wrinkled dugs
Perceived the scene, and foretold the rest—
I too awaited the expected guest.
He, the young man carbuncular, arrives,
A small house agent's clerk, with one bold stare,
One of the low on whom assurance sits
As a silk hat on a Bradford millionaire.
The time is now propitious, as he guesses,
The meal is ended, she is bored and tired,
Endeavours to engage her in caresses
Which still are unreproved, if undesired.
Flushed and decided, he assaults at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defence;
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
(And I Tiresias have foresuffered all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.)
Bestows on final patronising kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit...

She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
Hardly aware of her departed lover;
Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass:
'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.'
When lovely woman stoops to folly and
Paces about her room again, alone,
She smoothes her hair with automatic hand,
And puts a record on the gramophone.

'This music crept by me upon the waters'
And along the Strand, up Queen Victoria Street.
O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street,
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.

The river sweats
Oil and tar
The barges drift
With the turning tide
Red sails
Wide
To leeward, swing on the heavy spar.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala

Elizabeth and Leicester
Beating oars
The stern was formed
A gilded shell
Red and gold
The brisk swell
Rippled both shores
Southwest wind
Carried down stream
The peal of bells
White towers
Weialala leia
Wallala leialala

'Trams and dusty trees.
Highbury bore me. Richmond and Kew
Undid me. By Richmond I raised my knees
Supine on the floor of a narrow canoe.'
'My feet are at Moorgate, and my heart
Under my feet. After the event
He wept. He promised "a new start".
I made no comment. What should I resent?'
'On Margate Sands.
I can connect
Nothing with nothing.
The broken fingernails of dirty hands.
My people humble people who expect
Nothing.'
la la

To Carthage then I came

Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest

burning

IV. DEATH BY WATER

PHLEBAS the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep seas swell
And the profit and loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.

V. WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

AFTER the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and place and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
When I count, there are only you and I together
But when I look ahead up the white road
There is always another one walking beside you
Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded
I do not know whether a man or a woman
—But who is that on the other side of you?

What is that sound high in the air
Murmur of maternal lamentation
Who are those hooded hordes swarming
Over endless plains, stumbling in cracked earth
Ringed by the flat horizon only
What is the city over the mountains
Cracks and reforms and bursts in the violet air
Falling towers
Jerusalem Athens Alexandria
Vienna London
Unreal

A woman drew her long black hair out tight
And fiddled whisper music on those strings
And bats with baby faces in the violet light
Whistled, and beat their wings
And crawled head downward down a blackened wall
And upside down in air were towers
Tolling reminiscent bells, that kept the hours
And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells.

In this decayed hole among the mountains
In the faint moonlight, the grass is singing
Over the tumbled graves, about the chapel
There is the empty chapel, only the wind's home.
It has no windows, and the door swings,
Dry bones can harm no one.
Only a cock stood on the rooftree
Co co rico co co rico
In a flash of lightning. Then a damp gust
Bringing rain

Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
Gathered far distant, over Himavant.
The jungle crouched, humped in silence.
Then spoke the thunder
D A
Datta: what have we given?
My friend, blood shaking my heart
The awful daring of a moment's surrender
Which an age of prudence can never retract
By this, and this only, we have existed
Which is not to be found in our obituaries
Or in memories draped by the beneficent spider
Or under seals broken by the lean solicitor
In our empty rooms
D A
Dayadhvam: I have heard the key
Turn in the door once and turn once only
We think of the key, each in his prison
Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison
Only at nightfall, aetherial rumours
Revive for a moment a broken Coriolanus
D A
Damyata: The boat responded
Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar
The sea was calm, your heart would have responded
Gaily, when invited, beating obedient
To controlling hands

I sat upon the shore
Fishing, with the arid plain behind me
Shall I at least set my lands in order?

London Bridge is falling down falling down falling down

Poi s'ascose nel foco che gli affina
Quando fiam ceu chelidon—O swallow swallow
Le Prince d'Aquitaine à la tour abolie
These fragments I have shored against my ruins
Why then Ile fit you. Hieronymo's mad againe.
Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata.

Shantih shantih shantih

--------------

Ok, let's see if that helps.

POLITICS

2008-03-13T01:26:00.002-04:00

Since I went political a few minutes ago, let me go topical-political.

Eliot Spitzer has resigned as the governor of New York State. His replacement is a blind African-American man. I don't follow the news closely, but is it Stevie Wonder? Because that would rock.

Let me, Stinkrock, just say this--Eliot Spitzer is a fraud and a prick. And he's going to lose his marriage, and a lot of money in that settlement.

But here's the good news. Eliot Spitzer is loaded. *Lo-oaded*. He can pay his rightfully pissed-off wife whatever she asks for in reparations & alimony & whatnot.

But after that? Oh, you guessed it--then he can get right back to that hot DC paid-lady '70s salad. Orange jello and mandarin oranges, people. The catbird seat.

You go, Eliot! Politicians are people on the prowl, people to watch!

#2 In the Movie Characters I Want to Be

2008-03-13T00:57:00.004-04:00

Elvis Presley. The only baby in history to kill his twin to get more play. Have you seen the babies in those movies? They race cars and go to pool parties. Am I right?

Here's a new Kennedy assassination theory: 'Suspicious Minds' travelled 6 years back in time and killed JFK.

Think about it: Elvis became a Nixon shill in his Liberacepepperoni period. When did Nixon become President? 1969. When did Suspicious Minds come out? 1969. Do the math, punks.

In 1960, when Nixon got his election stolen in Chicago because a nation of Americans wanted a president who could bed Marilyn Monroe, where was Suspicious Minds? If you know a lick about Nixon, you know that song could've won him that election. Checkers was still alive, man. Checkers was still alive!

So Nixon plotted his revenge. He invented time travel. And when he finally got the swivel chair in the Oval Office (dizzy!) he put his plan in motion.

Suspicious Minds belongs in a time vault. Nowhere in the annals of pop music exists a song so glorious, and so horribly wrong for so many reasons. Again, if you know a lick about Nixon, I don't have to explain this to you.

Where were you when Tricky Dick tricked time?

.
.
.

John F. Kennedy was in a car in Dallas, Texas. He was hit by a bullet - "Suspicious Minds", 7 years from the future, lodged carefully in his skull. Elvis, we never knew you. If I had a dime for every ass you grabbed...

DFACTOR

2008-03-11T21:31:00.006-04:00

My very good friend over at Waved Rumor is leaving New York because we finally got a restraining order against him. As one of favorite working rock bands The Constantines put it, soon enough work and love will make a man out of you. This is a tribute.

Last Friday, Dave played a farewell show at Pianos to an adoring crowd of friends and lovers, playing a bunch of the great songs he's written over the last 10 years, and mixing them in with cover songs from bands who have propelled him forth.

Listening to them on Friday night, I realized how uncanny Dave is at writing songs in the present tense. His songs are calendar dates on my timeline here. They capture moments. For every song I heard a song and my memory countered with a story.

It was a special show because a number of guys who had played with Dave at some point in their lives joined him onstage to toss off a song. And as I looked around the room I realized how many people are addicted to his energy, his momentum, and his melodies. It was a party.

--------------------
I've always bugged Dfactor to put out a compilation of his catchiest songs, (because everyone who witnessed the glory that is 'Sizzlin' Sun' on Friday is not necessarily going to want to listen to 'Light Up the Whippets', which is a science experiment gone wrong if applied to whipped cream canisters, and a downright crime if applied to doggies.) But if he writes from his gut and heart the way he has since I've met him, then all is good.

Everyone who's been touched by Dave in his New York stay will miss him, and I stand proud in that formation. The Trouble Dolls are playing out tonight. Good luck, Dfactor. With much love.

HOME

2008-03-03T22:46:00.003-05:00

I realize the East Village of Manhattan has not realized its potential. How could skater kids afford such alluring haircuts if it had?

And as I pump carbon dioxide out of my lungs here in the 4th floor of the wreckage, I've gotta say: I don't miss the Ramones. I don't miss CBGB. I miss you.

New York is famous for chewing people up and spitting them out. Who's fighting? Who's kicking New York in the teeth?

Why to be a music fan

2008-02-22T00:51:00.003-05:00

I just played 'Rain' by the Beatles for somebody for the first time. Do you know what that feels like?

In college, my friend Tim & I decided we would drive up and down the streets of Philadelphia blasting 'Debaser'. We never did. Instead, we became funny pyromaniacs.

Music's a language, and songs are snapshots. They're Polaroids. Anyone can make them, and everyone who can does, or should.

We would all be better off if we could fit our favorite music into shapes we could carry around with us. We'd find a cheap porch somewhere and empty our pockets.

"The Balls Are the Posse of the Penis!"

2008-02-20T02:02:00.001-05:00

- Dave Attell

Happy Valentine's Day, gentlemen. Grow 'em back.

working for the church

2008-02-17T02:36:00.003-05:00

Here's a clip of the Arcade Fire, not sucking.

Dive and Recover

2008-02-15T21:04:00.002-05:00

For the long wintry weekend, I'm posting another Microdot pre-production. I came up with the verse, Misanthrope came up with the chorus.

See Red Rock West and listen to Calexico's The Black Light (scroll down to 1998), do both those things before you listen to this song. And if you can prove you did so, I will reimburse you for your troubles.

Beagles

2008-02-14T02:59:00.003-05:00

One letter removed from my favorite band of all time, yet much sweeter, better groomed, and never wrote 'Maxwell's Silver Hammer'.

At this year's Westminster Dog Show, a beagle won Best in Show for the first time ever, in 131 years of competition.

For the 1 or 2 people who read my blog who may not be tracking the progress of Misanthrope's sweet Maggie, who is probably the most kind, enigmatic beagle on planet Earth, I accept this award on her behalf.

Recorded Music

2008-02-13T22:36:00.004-05:00

Rock is not dead. You just love the music you listened to from 16-25.

Everyone shut up.

Ok, just you, Tony Alva.

If you love music, you look for bands. For every band that you hate, there are 900 bands doing the exact same thing that you also hate. And for those 900 bands there are 90,000 bands doing shit you don't care about.

But for every 90,000 bands there's a band that is worth it. It doesn't have to be a new band. That is the glory of recording. You can enjoy a recording from 1974 as much as you can enjoy a recording from 2006. (And, as a betting man, I would give you odds if you gave me '74.)

Nothing will ever match up to the music you heard when you were of the right age. We had a snow last night in New York, and a friend emailed me about the best songs to listen to while shoveling snow. All the songs mentioned came out when we were 25, earnest, and impressionable.

Let the kids have their fun. Otherwise, I'll have no one to make fun of.

NO ANIMALS

2008-02-07T21:36:00.000-05:00

For me, closing credits had completely lost their allure. Until now:

ONCE

2008-02-04T23:26:00.000-05:00

Now that I've pretty much given up on new music, it's going to be difficult to insult new bands. I can informatively tell you not to buy any record released by an album label affiliated with the RIAA. Profits go to shareholders, not artists. Chrispy, please read that last line again.

So instead, I'll champion music I love. And tonight it's from a musical, featuring a singer/songwriter. I hate musicals, I hate singer/songwriters, and Once features both, and is the best movie I saw in 2007.

Once suggests something near and dear to my heart: music is not an art form; it's a form of communication. Unless you're a genius like Mozart or Bright Eyes, writing a song is translating, not creation. That's why the best musicians are humble, because they know they're not originators. That's why you can throw out Jim Morrison.

In Once, we get Glen Hansard. He fronts The Frames, and this movie makes his songs essential. The scene where he enters a music store and duets with Marketa Iglova; he plays a song that is phenomenally beautiful. I would be remiss to not telegraph that beauty to the 5-6 people who read this blog.

Watch Once.

A LONG DISTANCE DEDICATION

2008-02-01T20:36:00.000-05:00

This one's for Tony Alva and Jackson.

60 REM SONGS BETTER THAN TEXARKANA

Radio Free Europe
Gardening at Night
Talk about the Passion
Sitting Still
Windout
Find the River
Driver 8
Sweetness Follows
Oddfellows Local 151
Whats the Frequency, Kenneth?
Just a Touch
Wolves, Lower
Country Feedback
Me in Honey
King of Birds
Finest Worksong
Begin the Begin
Harborcoat
So. Central Rain
Fall on Me
Nightswimming
Try Not to Breathe
It's the End of the World
Flowers of Guatemala
The One I Love
How the West was Won and Where It Got Us
Call me Leper
Shaking Through
Perfect Circle
Cuyahoga
Green Grow the Rushes
Belong
Orange Crush
Get Up
that untitled song from Green
Catapult
Moral Kiosk
Maps and Legends
I Believe
Departure
(Don't Go Back to) Rockville
Crush with Eyeliner
E-Bow the Letter
Try Not to Breathe
Carnival of Sorts
World Leader Pretend
Laughing
9-9
7 Chinese Brothers
Turn You Inside Out
Camera
Feeling Gravitys Pull
These Days
Be Mine
Half A World Away
Bandwagon
Crazy*
Superman*
Strange*
King of the Road*

*covers

LISTS

2008-01-28T21:42:00.000-05:00

We have unfinished business, SR and you. I gotta finish some lists.

I can't help it, I love lists. I don't take them very seriously; as you can tell. To me, an ideal existence would be to hang out at the record store in High Fidelity with Cusack, Jack Black and the bald fey guy and come up with Top 5 Song Lists all goddamn day. Oh, and I'd like to be Kevin Bacon's character in Diner who sits around, drinks, and kills on the GE College Bowl. In fact, let's start a new list right now.

TOP 10 GUYS IN MOVIES I'D LIKE TO BE:

10. Bacon. Diner.

9. Clive Owen in 'Shoot 'Em Up'. I'm halfway there, already. See this movie.

8. Paul Stanley in 'The Decline of Western Civilization, Part II.' As you should probably know, Paul Stanley gives interviews for this movie lying naked in bed with three hot ladies. He's not doing anything to those chicks lying there naked in bed. He's gayer than the Charles Nelson Riley Fotomat in Dicksville, Alabama.

7. Roman Polanski in "Chinatown" (seen here in back view). Because as much as I love Nicholson, someone needs to shove a fucking knife up his nose.

6. Ned Beatty in Delivera....nah, just kidding.

5. Jeremy Licht, the kid in the 3rd episode of 'Twilight Zone: The Movie.' Everything he wished for came true. Everytime. Always. He also went on to star in "The Hogan Family" with Sandy Duncan's glass eye, still one of my favorite band names of all time. A band from Philadelphia in the early '90s that I never saw.

4. Gary Busey in "Point Break". It's been a lifelong dream of mine to call Keanu Reeves 'Utah' and make him get out of the car and buy me two meatball sandwiches. Esoteric, I know. That's why Busey's on my side of the crazy/genius border.

3. Keith Moon in "Rolling Stone's Rock and Roll Circus". A cheat, but just in case Mike Myers sucks ass, I want to be able to prove ongoing fandom.

anyway, we'll finish that list later. where was I?

Oh yeah.

Let's start with the easiest one, the Top 10 examples of Stink Rock. Looking back at my previous two posts, I have two #10s, a 9, a 6 and a 4, and a 2. Whoops. I should really stop sticking my hands into Hostess Fruit Pies before I type these things.

Here's a complete list. Check the old two posts if you want commentary on all 10. And send me sleazy rock links in the comments, for ruck's sake.

#10. Still TV Party by Black Flag.

#9. Hate the Police by Mudhoney.

#8. Negative Creep by Nirvana.

#7. Jon Spencer Blues Explosion. Sometimes the stinkrock isn't about the sound, it's all about the attitude. His first band Pussy Galore, did a song-by-song cover of Exile on Main Street. His more famous band, the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, put out a record called Orange in the '90s that turns girls into shake machines.

This is a surreal clip.

Disclaimer: I got to record bass through his bass amp once. It was HUGE. I stood in front of it. I'm deaf.

#6. Butthole Surfers, The O-Men.

#5. Iggy and the Stooges, "TV Eye". This is not at all a good representation of the Stooges, but I think it's pretty cool how Rob Machold shows up in the first 30 seconds.

#4. Dinosaur Jr., The Lung.

#3. Guided by Voices, Shocker in Gloomtown! In my 20's, I'd wake up for work, and my wife would walk my dog for 10 minutes. I'd snap like a rubber band to the CD and play GBV's 'The Grand Hour', a 10 minute EP of god-awful noise and glory. I'm divorced, and my dog died, but this album still drives me nuts.

Here, the Breeders do a kick-ass job covering it. They put GBV in the video, it's all good.

#2. Mclusky, Lightsabre Cocksucking Blues.

#1. Cavalier was close when he suggested 'Customer' should make the list. But alas, the blog is named after 'Stink'. So it's gotta be a God Damn Job.

No Point

2008-01-28T21:15:00.001-05:00

Proof that rock and roll died in the 1970s, then came back to life. (via The Onion, and no, not the funny part)

Ok, 1970s, I kid. Sure you gave us Abraxas and Keith Moon's death, but you also gave us the inspiration for this 1980 nugget of saucy corn.

And speaking of that kickass band, watch the kickass intro to same band's website. Why the high-tech use of still photography? My guess is because rippling neckfat does not rock into the night.

"This is my neighbour Neckfat. He likes to take our laudry out when it's not dry and when he goes into the laundry room, he sounds like a bull moose in a china shop."

Moon Pop

2008-01-23T11:22:00.000-05:00

Mike Myers is slated to play Keith Moon in an upcoming movie. Mike Myers is 45 years old. He's from Canada. He likes hockey. Keith Moon died when he was 30. How is this a good idea?

Elijah Wood is slated to play Iggy Pop in an upcoming movie.

His quote: "I'm scared to death of doing it, because I love him (Iggy Pop) so much and I respect the music so much. I don't want to be the person responsible for screwing that up."

It's that "I'm afraid of making a mistake" attitude in Elijah Wood that so perfectly encapsulates the Iggy Pop we all know and love, don't you think?

Maybe casting agents should go on strike.

COMPARISON OF NEIL DIAMOND MOVIES I'VE SEEN

2008-01-16T22:05:00.000-05:00

#1. THE LAST WALTZ

In the Martin Scorsese classic concert film, The Band is captured in an unprecedented scenario: a finale show filmed in 1976, when the drag of rock and roll has ground them into Marty fodder. As Roger Ebert put it, "the musicians...drag themselves onstage like exhausted veterans of wrong wars." Heralded for its look at a band at the very end of its existence, The Last Waltz is a classic.

Musically, I hate The Band. Like The Grateful Dead moved to Canada and learned to ski. What? But let's not talk about them.

Neil Diamond's performance with The Band is clearly the lowlight of this entire movie. Wikipedia tells me that the only reason he was there is because Robbie Robertson had just finished producing one of Neil's more fake-tit-pierced works; "Beautiful Noise". Even if you already misunderstand Neil Diamond's musical genius, "Beautiful Noise" looks bad. A real piece of queso.

So like I said, the lowlight. And also like I said, I hate The Band. Bob Dylan has played a horrible joke on all of you.

NEIL DIAMOND RATING: D-

#2. THE JAZZ SINGER

This movie is flawless. Absolutely flawless.

NEIL DIAMOND RATING: A+

PAPER AIRPLANE CRASH

2008-01-14T21:49:00.000-05:00

Occasionally I get the OCD. This weekend, I went through the number of thousands of audio tracks stored on hard drives scattered throughout my house like so many mines.

(We've all been at that place where we feel trapped, cornered, gasping for air. Sad to say, but in this new millenium, I attempted to claw myself out by clearing up electronic storage space. It seems to work. Or maybe I'm just clearing dirt until the Nancy Wilson sex tape finally goes public. You'll never know.)

During my audio cleansing, I discovered hundreds of demo tracks from all the various projects I've been involved in. The cream of the crop was the sessions myself and the Misanthrope spent riding out a summer in a Varick Street bathroomless basement, committing random ideas to tape.

'Paper Airplane Crash' grew out of one of those jams that starts near the end of a 12-pack, and one session later, it grew into this. I listen to it and I try to remember where we got all the sounds. I clearly remember mining the basement studio for particulars that could be used for percussion. Fortunately, the point person for this particular space had quarantined a third of it for personal belongings; from which I was able to gather a pair of kickass cooking knives, which when rubbed together, added a lot to the attached track.

I also remember this, distinctly, though, and those of you who don't believe in ghosts can move along. A lot of the super distorted crazy noises you hear at the end are the product of running a microphone through three distortion pedals and a rotary fan. As we wrapped up the track, I realized that I had screwed up some setting, and there should have been no signal from the microphone at all.

Eventually, Microdot played this song live with lyrics and all, but to me this will always be the definitive version.

OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD

2008-01-13T23:02:00.000-05:00

The Allman Brothers are 20 times cooler than Lynyrd Skynyrd. How do I know this? The Allman Brothers got stuck in traffic going to Woodstock, said "Fuck it", and went home. Lynyrd Skynyrd? They've never been invited to Woodstock! And if they did, it would have been a lot sleazier. Few people know this, but "That Smell" by Skynyrd was written about a woman who tasted, uh, a little sour. Milk, milk, lemonade. Round the corner? Come on.

On Christmas Day, I was sicker than Moses. I watched 'Texas Chainsaw Massacre'. Everything I've learned about life was written in the Cliff Notes to the novelization of that movie.*

*Nothing about women. Nothing!**

**Except saying 'OK' to "Watch this romantic comedy with me! Or buy me ice cream! Or else!"

SNOBBERY

2008-01-04T00:23:00.000-05:00

On New Years Day, at 0:00 hours, CurrentTV broadcast Radiohead performing their new album 'In Rainbows' live in the studio.

It was phenomenal. It was absolutely stunning.

The following "indie" artists should stop performing immediately: Midlake, Rilo Kiley, The Hold Steady, The Decemberists, Peter Bjorn & John, Matt and Kim, Litebrite Lloyd Wright, Wolfmother, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, Joanna Newsom, Pieces of Daffodil, Cat Power, Cat Power, Cat Power.

Bands people should listen to more: None. When dolphins learn to play instruments, bands will fully form. Until then, there is no hope.*

After Traffic, was there any doubt that Steve Winwood's solo career would suck?

If I were born in another country, and I attempted to produce an album of music about the United States of America, I don't know what I would compare it to, because Rattle and Hum is such a piece of shit.

*You may listen to Can.

David Bowie hasn't released a good album in 25-30 years, but he dyes his hair so his fans think he's fashionable. Some of them continue to support the Tin Machine years.
The guy's an assbite on a mosquito.

England as a country is cock. They've produced The Beatles, The Stones, The Kinks, The Who, Radiohead, Pink Floyd, Bowie, The Jam, Pulp, The Smiths, and yet they always poll Oasis as their favorite band. Puke-flavored curry-shop hobos.

I don't know if we have 'Tommy' or 'Dark Side' to blame, but concept records *always* suck.

Musically? Thank god John Lennon died.

P.S. Steve Albini was right. About everything.

YEAR-END MUSIC

2008-01-02T02:20:00.000-05:00

For the first time in my life, I've made a year-end list compiled by someone who does not know me. The House of Blondes made Nick Southall's Top Records of the Year. Nick used to be the senior writer at the much-missed Stylus Magazine. A lot of people should be proud of their contributions to this record, but for now, cheers to me.

For the past four years, I've compiled a cd-r of songs I was introduced to during the calendar year. I used to have a thirst for new music and a historian's monocle for gems for treasures past.

Not so this year. For a number of reasons, I reached a saturation point where, at least in the rock music category, I hit equilibrium. After being disappointed by new releases from a number of bands who I'd loved in years past, I realized that of the 60-80,000 rock songs I've heard in my life so far, I'm set. I've heard enough. Most new music I hear is worse than most of any rock song I've heard before.

In high school I had classic rock shoved down my throat, injected into my blood stream and formed into puppets and magicians that put shows on in my garage. I was psyched in high school to spot the backup goalie of the St. Louis Blues at the Eric Clapton show on his 'Journeyman' tour. I got a boner anytime K-SHE 95 would play 'Never Been any Reason' by Head East. But I came to resent the McConaugheys in my Midwest teenage years turn "Skynyrd!" into an interjection, and I went searching for music of my times.

Well, my times are over. For the first year I'm getting all my pleasure from re-listening to what I've already accumulated (partially due to the fact that I hate new music and the way it sounds, but we'll save that anger for a future post. I'm not angry at you, world, I'm just playing hard-to-get.)

Apparently, I'm not as crazy as I thought. Noel Murray, critic from The Onion, has apparently reached the same saturation point. In this blog post, he iterates that he's going to stop listening to new music for 10 months. I heartily applaud him, and guarantee he will lose his thirst the same way I did. I absolutely guarantee it. To be safe, in case I'm wrong, I've kidnapped his grandma. She's a sweet, sweet woman. She just crocheted her own handcuffs. It brought a tear to me eye.

I'm actually a year ahead of Noel; he plans to listen to ABBA and lots of other crap. This year, I'm planning to listen to a lot more of...no music. Silence is a nice change of pace. Recently, more than music, it beckons me to listen.

So shut up, everybody. Happy New Year.

MORE STINKROCK

2008-01-02T01:45:00.000-05:00

#6. Butthole Surfers, The O-Men

When I was 19, my roommate and I came back from a Saturday night of drinking. He had outpaced himself and collapsed awkwardly on the couch, like a Texas Chainsaw Ice Capade. I told him I was making myself a grilled cheese sandwich and he begged to make him one. I told him I would if he let me listen to the cassette I had bought earlier that day; 'Locust Abortion Technician' by the Butthole Surfers. He lasted five songs. Had I made his sandwich after mine, he would not have had one.

This one's on side two.

The Butthole Surfers, by the way, are the only band where I had to move *back* during a show because I got disturbed while watching.

I don't generally give a shit about originality or uniqueness in rock bands but I have never ever heard another record that sounds remotely like Locust Abortion Technician. Paul Leary does things with a guitar that make my mother hate me.

#4. Dinosaur Jr., "The Lung"

Their first national tv appearance ever. Microdot covered this at Tedstock.

Nothing says "I don't give a fuck" more than playing on National TV looking like a cross between Sarumon and Wilfred Brimley in "Cocoon". God bless J. Mascis.

#10. Black Flag, "TV Party".

DALLAS! QUINCY!

This song would've been higher on the list if they'd released a superior version of the song I heard at some point, which was slower, sloppier, and (most importantly) included the Lee Majors classic 'The Fall Guy' as a favorite show. For those who don't remember seeing it, Lee Majors played a stuntman named Colt Seavers, and no, it was not a porno.

STINKROCK

2007-12-19T22:59:00.000-05:00

Did I ever explain where Stinkrock came from? Let's start a new Top 10!

Top 10 songs that readily define the genre Stinkrock*.

*(Music doesn't have genres. Music marketing has genres. A quick lesson in determining if a band is worth its salt: do they know where they fit? If they do, they're worth nothing. If they do what they do and let the listeners and critics catch up, then they're worthy. They're worthy of salt.

The following ten songs are venerable salt licks. I'll break them up so I can eventually forget about this list like all the other lists I've started.

#10.

NEGATIVE CREEP - NIRVANA.

The link is to a fan video, but it's perfect. When Frances Bean Cobain marries Jack Nicholson in 2015, "daddy's little girl ain't a girl no more" will speak volumes. It will also reference Mudhoney's 'Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More.' Which brings us to

#9
HATE THE POLICE - MUDHONEY.

This wasn't my first choice by this band, but I like it because it shows this band at their best, before 'Singles', pearl jam, 'Evenflow' and starbucks ruined the pacific Northwest. This is more sleazerock than stinkrock, but it gets grandfathered because Mark Arm sings so.

#2.

LIGHTSABRE COCKSUCKING BLUES. - MCLUSKY.

Too often, the internet is all about finding the new shit. I play mop-up. If you haven't seen cats sing the ballsiest rock song of the last 7 years, this clip is for you.

9-3 and #1 coming up.

Because it's Christmas...

2007-12-19T22:43:00.000-05:00

Let me post a link to The Jesus Lizard. This band was so good they didn't even need a lead singer. And then they had a lead singer who showed his testicles.

The clip is from Thunderdome (aka CBGB).

Here Comes Dudley, the leadoff track from Goat, which recorder Steve Albini qualifies as the best album he ever worked on during his reign of Pouty Post-Punk Dictator (which is saying something, considering he's made 3 of my favorite 50 records ever; In Utero, Surfer Rosa, and the Wedding Present's Seamonsters.) into...

Gladiator. If rock and roll could've been frozen at any point in time, I'd choose this moment: when this song came out, so bass players and drummers would've realized how to play together. The Jesus Lizard rhythm section is unheralded in all the lands.

Don't worry about the words or the frontman. Drummer's creed.

WHITE BEAR

2007-12-19T21:43:00.001-05:00

My ten favorite clips from Trigger Happy TV on youtube. I mostly missed this show during its brief Comedy Central airing, but my brother called my attention to it earlier this year. It's Jackass for Scrabble players. It's chess for wrestlers. It's prog-fighting.

#5. Bowling Lessons

#9. Kung Fu Dogs

#4. Snail

#8. 1,000,000th Sex Shop Customer

#10. Internet Cafe (I had to include one of these)

#6. Sliding on Floor in Gallery

#3. Dog + Flower Stand

#7. I'm sorry, I have no tables.

#2. Badger. Rarely does a TV show make a 1 minute badger clip look like Orson Welles directing an episode of Dawson's Creek.

#1. Secret Agent + Train

Uncle Tupelo

2007-12-14T01:01:00.000-05:00

One of the great insecure pleasures of being a fan of non-radioed bands is discovering them before someone else did. So you can say you knew them when, back when they were just another band. It's pretentious I know, but you know there's a chick in South Carolina who says she used to go out with the guitar player from Hootie and the Blowfish who's charging an extra $20 for a blowjob ($10 if you can beat her deadbeat boyfriend at darts).

Anyway, my moment was with Uncle Tupelo. The second wife of alt-country, the founders of the sound soon-to-be-called 'No Depression' (after their first record title, the song of which was a Carter Family song from way back yonder), these guys were still a fucking amazing band. Jeff Tweedy, who'd go on to be the bigger star in Wilco, was an eager bassist, the kind of guitarist who isn't as confident as the other guitarist in the band. Jay Farrar, who'd go on to be the ursa minor in Son Volt, had this extreme, soulful, gritty voice. And he'd play the guitar like it was Husker Du or Dinosaur Jr., two of my favorites.

I discovered this band on a cable access show, airing at 10:30 p.m. on Wednesday nights in St. Louis. It was called 'Critical Mass' and it was hosted by this gorgeous woman named DeDe Scofield, who also worked at a prominent shop in the antique district of Soulard, over whose environs the Anheuser-Busch plant churned. She showed music videos that MTV would never show; one of my favorites was 'This Gift' by Mudhoney, which they used to open the show. Best video I ever saw was 'Good Guys and Bad Guys' by Camper Van Beethoven.

So along with the music videos, DeDe would feature one local band a week, playing a couple songs. The first week I tuned in, she had Uncle Tupelo in their rehearsal space, which looks like a basement/bedroom in Belleville. I liked the two songs I heard a lot.

And I remember they just looked like nervous kids playing rock. They looked down at their guitars, and they believed in their songs. And they looked nervous as hell. I remember that now, being about 15, not having ever experienced a band like that before. I hadn't even thought about being in a band yet. I didn't know what being in a band was. This was not only a look at Uncle Tupelo when they were young, it was probably my first look at a band that had no profession. Just drive.

Well every now and then, the Internet comes through. The clip I saw when I was 15 is now on Youtube. Judge for yourself.

Devin Davis/The Police/How well do your myspace songs represent you? Episode 1 of 430

2007-12-13T23:35:00.000-05:00

For the last 4 years, I've made a mix cd for friends with new music from the year. Not necessarily music released in that particular year, but pulling from a pool of all songs I heard for the first time. I'm still debating whether to make one this year; I didn't get around to a lot of new music, and albums by bands I used to love, well they left me a little cold. Left it on my front stoop, all wrapped up in a basket covered in a gingham cloth. I named him 'Chilly'.

But here's a song that would make that mix--except it's only playable on myspace. Let me set it up--it's from a dude from Chicago named Devin Davis. He looks like a cross between Luke Wilson and 'Donde Esta Waldo?'. But his first album 'Lonely People of the World Unite'!' was a quality record. He recorded it all himself blah blah blah Stevie Wonder Bright Eyes but his hooks are sharkworthy, and his lyrics are noticeable. I never notice lyrics, that's a large compliment. These are inventive and hooky and fun to shout at strangers. And he shouts them , so you know he knows they're good. I saw him play in 2006 at the Mercury Lounge, and he's no Iggy Pop live, but he closes his eyes and thinks he's Iggy Pop, which is even better. No glass.

Anyway, the song I'd include on this mix is called 'When I Turn 99' and it's here. If it grabs you at all, stick around for Giant Spiders and, especially, Cannons on the Courthouse. What other song refers to the famous incident (thanks TD) where Willie Nelson smokes pot on the top of the White House? That's a rhetorical question.

Actually, listen to 'When the Angels Lift Our Eye' too. I like Devin Davis even more. He actually puts the best songs on his album on his myspace page. That's the way it should work. I mean for god sakes, what the ground chuck are The Police thinking? Have you seen the four songs they chose for their myspace site? Wait, wait, wait. Don't look. I'll tell you.

ROXANNE. ok. first well-known single. very popular. Fine.

CAN'T STAND LOSING YOU. ok. second well-known single. and quite an amazing little song. maybe we're over-representing the first album, we know there's a Regatta de Blanc track coming, or Don't Stand..., and we haven't even got to Ghost in the Machine. Still, good stuff.

SPIRITS IN THE MATERIAL WORLD. Oh, so we have got to Ghost in the Machine? Ok, that's questionable. I can see leaving out Zenyatta. But no Regatta? The bottle has no message? The moon has not been walked upon?

I occasionally try to iron the wrinkled image of your wife giving birth (I'm speaking directly to Sting now) off of my memory, but unfortunately you put the footage into a movie entitled 'Bring on the Night'. That song's good enough for a feature length film, but not good enough for myspace. O--kay. Well, I thought it was one of your best. But hey, there's still one spot left, and we haven't even got to Synchronicity...

WRAPPED AROUND YOUR FINGER. Are you kidding me? This is the track from Synchronicity? This is the pinky toe of Police singles. Is there's anyone except the guy who sells candles to MTV who would put this in their top 4 Police songs?

We have to be ready, people. We have to prove the intelligence of our society. The aliens/dolphins are coming. And we will be judged. Anyone who knows the Police, please ask them to get Synchronicity II up on myspace right away.

GET HELP

2007-12-13T02:35:00.000-05:00

I just got home from another landmark Get Help recording session at Smoke and Mirrors. While Jackson was off doing body shots of tequila off of Neil Young's tits, Chrispy, Tony and I continued on our relentless pace to make an entire record in a very short period of time. (In Jackson's defense, it was very good tequila.)

With no exceptions, every session has been not just productive but an adrenaline shot, an adrenaline IV. I've never made a record this fast in my life. On a couple of previous occasions, I've birthed a few Replacements knockoff eps that took a week or two. But this is painful in its progress. It's what childbirth must feel like. And like a woman in childbirth, a band at this pace screams for the epidural. (Jackson, you have empty bottles greeting you tomorrow. sorry.)

Tonight I got to use my Micro Synth pedal, which makes the scariest sounds I've ever heard come from my person. With it, I made the two finest-smelling noisetrack tulip fields I've ever tiptoed through. All for the gianthem 'Growing Circles'. It has eight guitars and counting, but five of them play the exact same thing. Chrispy suggested that Billy Corgan might like to introduce us at our R&R Hall of Fame induction.

Later on I stuck a microphone into a kick drum to record a guitar. And then I realized my favorite thing about Smoke and Mirrors - no one really gives a shit. I mean, they care immensely, sincerely and passionately about what they do there, and it shows. But they don't particularly give a shit about how it gets done. They're up for anything. And you know what? It almost always works out just fine that way.

The same holds true of the bathroom down their hallway. The cleanest thing in it is the toilet brush. Slooowww whistle. Wipe brow.

BACK?

2007-12-11T22:51:00.000-05:00

Telecasting has updated its much-missed blog after a few dozen fortnights, and the internet is much warmer for it. So we don't overload the circuits, I've been inspired to (attempt to) cool off the warm spell with a rekindling of my icy zaniness.

What do I have to write about? I have no idea. Nothing. I experience very little these days. I rewatched 'Midnight Run', which was fantastic yet again. What the fuck happened to Robert DeNiro? I'd like to staple him into the Clockwork Orange movie chair, force his eyelids open, and make him watch his last 20 movies. And then, when he thinks the torture's over, I'll show him 'The Fan'. Icing on the cake. Who wants cake?

I've been out of work the last few months and had all the time in the world to write, but nothing to write about. Same thing with music; I've gone to great lengths to set my apartment up as a two-dollar whorish wreck-ording studio, so I could come home, flick a switch and make sauce. But it hasn't happened.

Hopefully I'm clawing my way back into the pre-Ronin DeNiro era. This post shows no signs of that. We'll see.

Ok, that covers most of it. Uh, see New Country for Old Men in the theater, and take a bump in the last 20 minutes or you'll miss important stuff at the end. Remind me to finish my top 10 favorite movie characters.

Peter Gabriel is currently the most underrated writer of incredible melodies in rock and roll history. Everyone thinks he's an oddball (odd-ball). I wrote a jingle for that while I typed that, I'm really sure it's stolen. Otherwise, if anybody out there has designed a 'Peter Gabriel Oddball' Action Figure, please contact me at once. I have marketing ideas.

I'm going to free associate a lot. Stinkrock's going abstract. If I get my temperature up, we may shift into Surrealism. Then, expect a lot of poop jokes.

Ok then.

PERFECT PITCH

2007-10-18T20:33:00.000-04:00

I have perfect pitch. It's a blessing. It allows me to be able to walk up to a piano and bust out the intro to 'Hold the Line' by Toto. It allows me to know which notes are played on a telephone for a dial tone (F & A) and the three consecutive notes when you call a disconnected number (Bb, E, A). The Gilligans Island theme song is in D-minor.

I can re-create the piano line that Bugs Bunny plays in the cartoon where Yosemite Sam has wired the hi-C note on the piano with dynamite (Bugs hits the C#. What a maroon!) In essence, it's a party trick. There's an online test, if you have some music background, try it out:

Popular notable musicians who also possess it:

Bach. Ritchie Blackmore. Paul Shaffer, which means he KNOWS how out-of-tune he sings. Phil Lesh, in case Jerry was too fucked up to remember that Sugar Magnolia goes from A to D. Florence Henderson. (Does anyone have an mp3 of the Wesson commercial?)

Anyway, you don't need perfect pitch to appreciate these:

Van Halen plays 'Jump' with the synth loop playing at the wrong sampling speed.
(via Travelers' Diagram)

Star Wars + trumpet.

RED JACKET ORCHARDS

2007-10-15T16:51:00.000-04:00

Get Help has been tying up a licensing project with George Vitray & Via Skyway. We've set up a music publishing company, we're going to sell some soap. Hopefully tonight represents one of the last one or two sessions. We hope you hear 'Arroz Con Pollo' in a Corel commercial or 'Chicken Taco' during the next Chris Kattan vehicle, but if not, we'll send you a cd to put on anytime you do some online shopping.

In the meantime, we got a cool email from a guy who grew up in a place I wrote a song about called Red Jacket Orchards. He felt that the song did a pretty good job of encapsulating what life was like on an orchard, recounting arguments with his grandfather. It took him back there.

The closest I've been to Red Jacket Orchards is approximately 60 paces east and 30 paces north, where I bought a delicious bottle of Red Jacket Orchards apple cider at the Tompkins Square park farmer's market one Sunday a year ago. I did grow up in Northern California, which, while 3,000+ miles from the Geneva, NY metropolitan area, hosted an overgrown pear tree orchard looming past the heights of my backyard fence, chaotic heights due to my lesser stature in those days.

Bob Mould once described songwriting as something other than creation, as an exercise (and I paraphase *very* roughly) of translation. A song isn't written so much as it's harnessed and transcribed. I've always agreed with this notion; it's a little ridiculous to credit Pete Townshend with the Can't Explain riff when someone else would've come up with it, like, 10-15 days later. Ideas rarely come from within, they're clutched from the air at in/opportune times. It's as much communication as inspiration, if not more.

A point in Bob's favor: I remember reading that in the late '70s Glenn Frey used to wake up and spend a few hours each morning at the piano writing songs, because he was too rich to work. And look at those songs! They SUCK. He harnessed crap.

But the other thing I drew from the friendly user comment about my song was that it paid off to 'release' all Get Help's songs for free in a format where people we've never might would stumble across them and forge connections to them. At the least, it gives me a little gasoline to burn, a spark to write another song that might be consumed.

HARRY CARAY

2007-10-15T16:28:00.000-04:00

The Hives kick ass. As does this American soldier, doing his impression of Will Ferrell doing Harry Caray to an Iraqi. (via College Humor)

http://www.collegehumor.com/video:1750946

A REASON TO BELIEVE

2007-10-08T21:15:00.000-04:00

People find religion all the time. In dreams, in boxcars, in 'Three Men And a Baby'. If you look hard enough, you'll find *something*. That's one half of it. Effort.

The other half of the equation is redemption. That's something worth seeking! Let's quantify it:

Effort + ? = Redemption

For you algebra geeks (down in the aisles!) that's 'Redemption' - 'Effort' = ?

So what is '?'

It's the HIVES. They're playing tomorrow night at Webster Hall, and they've got me. Never have I seen a juggernaut extinguish so many with so little. They rock songs like your biggest grandfather swats horseflies, and it looks so cool and sounds so when he snaps the belt that you don't even notice his pants around his ankles. (Grandma does, though!)

The last Hives show was one of the best I've ever seen. Tomorrow's will be better. I will snap hipsters in half during 'Outsmarted'.

(I'll get back to providing links eventually.)

web 3.0

2007-10-08T21:08:00.000-04:00

I just peeled off a shirt to free my arms to write this post. Seriously. I pop a shoulder every time I hit the left 'shift' key. I bought a bad chair.

I poured a fifth of a glass of wine. Before I'm done, I'll have launched new wine into the atmosphere and spilled a bit of it into my lily-white t-shirt. The cork will end up under my bed, and I'll find it there next to a hastily scrawled setlist in someone else's handwriting for a band I used to be in.

Here's where we stand: I am tired of 'content'. I am tired of music. I will create more of both until the day I die.

The music is worth appreciating. The 'content'? Let's see...

HIATUS

2007-08-23T03:43:00.001-04:00

Howdy me--

Stinkrock is taking a hiatus from work starting this friday and will start typing again.

Blogger, the Dig Dug of the Future, tells me that I've written 115 posts. I will match that figure by the end of September. I guarantee it.

Let's get started...

POLICE

2007-02-15T09:54:00.000-05:00

I'm a little dubious about this Police reunion. They sounded good enough at the Grammys I suppose but they appear to have no chemistry whatsoever. Maybe this is the result of seeing 'Does Everyone Stare' last year which reveals Stewart Copeland to be an unfeeling, uncaring robot (albeit an amazingly talented drummer and musician). If they were to make a sequel to 'The Wizard of Oz' where the Tin Man goes to the wizard to get his heart removed, they could cast Stewart Copeland in the role.

Is this just a money grab? I have no problem with that, the Sex Pistols did it, the Pixies did it. But Sting doesn't need the money. He obviously doesn't care that much about the music, listen to his last 17 records (ok, don't, I didn't). So why is he doing this? He strikes me as such a pompous ass, like he had a nasty fight with his wife and reformed the band out of spite to get back at her as if he's saying "Screw you, I'm going to Bonnaroo and fucking a tentload of hippies." Sounds like he's trading in tantric sex for tantrum sex.

Anyway, if I hear they're playing Synchronicity II and Bring on the Night I'm so there.

Sebadoh

2007-02-05T23:33:00.000-05:00

Thanks to my good friend Johnny Strikes! I'm seeing Sebadoh at Maxwell's on April 1st.

Sebadoh is my seminal band; they were the first band that expressed to me that I could make music in my house. Lou Barlow, the anti-frontman, has written a handful of songs that I'd like to put in a time capsule and shoot out into space to let aliens know how visceral it is to document music ideas. Sebadoh helped created the 'lo-fi' movement (along with Guided by Voices and Pavement) that drove me and many of my peers to make music on the smallest stage; the walls of our bedrooms.

In the last couple of years Lou's buried the hatchet with J. Mascis and Dinosaur Jr, one of my favorite bands of all time. It's clearly made an impression on him; Sebadoh is reforming with the lineup that made my favorite Sebadoh records: Sebadoh III, Bubble and Scrape, the Helmet/Sebadoh split and Bakesale. The strength of those records is that the three guys--Lou, Eric Gaffney and Jason Loewenstein--bring strong and disparate sensibilities to the band. But there's a support to each other's ideas that feels like murder on a personal level (I completely understand how this band didn't last) but is an incredible synergy in document, both live and recorded.

I saw Sebadoh once when I first moved to NY 12 years ago at the long gone Tramps, and it was a tremendous show. It's a dream to be able to catch them 12 years later at a club as intimate as Maxwell's.

If you're not familiar with Sebadoh, scour the world for these song titles:

The Freed Pig
Brand New Love
New Worship
Magnet's Coil
S. Soup (aka Shit Soup)
Drama Mine
Good Thing

GREATEST MOVIE CHARACTERS OF ALL TIME #4: MICHAEL CORLEONE

2007-01-31T22:50:00.000-05:00

I don't want to get into a big 'best' vs. 'favorite' argument, but Michael Corleone is the best movie character ever. If you can pull an argument like 'the Greeks didn't write the best tragedies', respond, but frankly, I needed an easy choice in this list to get through this, so don't dispute me. Really, I'm trying, honest.

Stinkrock, pt. 2

2007-01-31T22:38:00.000-05:00

Earlier this month, I traded emails with a guy who was interested in the stinkrock moniker. I gave him my spiel, and asked for pictures of his cats. Well, he came through, big time, and has a lot to say about rock and roll.

I get a big charge about hearing strangers talk about rock 'n' roll, and this cat owner says some brilliant stuff about it, so I include the bulk of his email here. Good on you, man.

Hi There Stinkrock,
Thank you for a vey nice letter. Yes, I do recall the term
stinkrock as per 60's rock. It had not occured to me. I think it is very unique,
unlike so many others I've seen.
I am enclosing some pictures of Rocky & Stinker, since you asked.
Stinker was born in a junk yard, and as a little tyke, used to stare
at me from a distance. This went on for 2 years, till I was able to
handle him while eating. He took a great liking to Rocky, who I fell
in love with at a cat shelter, Grateful Paw...Stinker weighing 12 lbs, would roll Rocky who weighs 16lbs, a muscular animal, like he was nothing. Something looked right to me. Till Stinker was bitten in the paw and needed to be
hospitalized for a month and a lot of money. Too late, you are no
longer running free in the junk yard. So it was at a park only, and he
was wild. Weeks later, he surrendered. So here we are now, the three
of us live out of my van, yes ...van, and they go to the park everyday
and come back to me almost right on scedule. In Commack we live. So at
this moment, i am 53, Rocky 10, Stinker 5. From the way I handle them,
they are a comedy duo...very funny. I've had 2 strokes from industrial
accident........long story. So there you have it. I am a extreme lover
of the Rock & Roll scene....1957-1987.........Favorite album by far is
'to our childrens children...moody blues & Today....Beach Boys. Jimmy
Page is the guitarist for all early Rolling Stones...did you know
that?...........ELO..........all pop, like monkees..motown,
philidelphia sounds.............The greatest artistic achievement for
mankind is Rock & Roll...a mans greatest achievement is the Pieta, by
Michealangelo. There is no end.......................Thanks for the
nice letter. If you feel like giving up the name, well......consider
me..................

Posting frequency

2007-01-31T22:03:00.000-05:00

I realize that the blogger police have got together and recommended that good blogs update frequently. Well, I'm blowing it all out in one night. You know what? Read slow.

(Yeah, I know it should be 'slowly', misanthrope. Eat me.)

the stinkrock pulitzer

2007-01-31T21:59:00.000-05:00

it goes to andre the giant. I don't know exactly what for, all i know is that any award i give out here is going to be called the 'stinkrock pulitzer'.

And Andre wins it for this.

JANUARY

2007-01-31T21:25:00.000-05:00

January's over and I'm back. That wasn't a hiatus, that was a mourning period.

Turkmenbashi, the dictator of Turkmenistan, died in December. 'My favorite dictator' is not an attractive turn of phrase, especially for a man who had such a repressive dictatorship, but I gotta admit: If I was running a country and was completely insane, I don't think I could do a better job than Saparmurat Niyazov. January was the month of mourning, because he renamed it after himself.

The fact is, I would love to be a dictator, just so I could write my own job description. So when I run my country/island, here are three things Turkmenbashi did that I would do in a heartbeat, and only because he thought to:

'(3) He banned opera. This one's so obvious, so simple, that no run-of-the-mill dictator would remember to. Opera's like ballet with no sex appeal; I can see ballet fan leg-fetishists who suddenly go blind having fun at an opera, but that's about it, gone.

Also: my dad's a big fan of opera, and he'd be *pissed* if I got rid of it. It makes up for the fact that he bought an SUV recently. I bet dictators have a lot of daddy issues.

(2) Turkmenbashi wrote a book called the 'Ruhnama' full of his own bullshit to be taught in schools and replace history texts. Yeah, yeah, boring, easy dictator stuff. The beautiful Turkmenbashi twist? He also made it part of the driving test.

If Graham Chapman and Terry Jones hadn't left this mortal coil, I'd bet my weight in gold that Monty Python were running Turkmenistan after I read this.

------------------------------------------
*UPDATE* Terry Jones isn't dead. Jesus, that was a terrible mistake.
------------------------------------------

(1) Turkmenbashi built a statue of himself that rotates so that it always faces the sun. That is *beautiful*.

more wine?

2007-01-10T17:10:00.000-05:00

For the next three days, diners in NY, LA, Chicago and Batcrab Creek, IL dining at select Italian restaurants may receive a free glass of wine to promote the second season of the HBO series 'Rome'. Because what says Italy like a glass of wine with your pasta, even if that wine is made in California? It's as if they're saying, "If you ever find yourself a little drunk and watch Rome! It's a little better when you're drunk!"

This is a fantastic idea. for the next Stinkrock-related release in 2007, I'm going to give away a pint of the cheapest, brownest booze ever to roll off a truck in the back corner of the parking lot of the all-night liquor store by the truck driver who's leaving his wife next week anyway.

It's as if I'm saying "Get drunker than you ever have in your life. the next day when you're imprisoned on your couch and you're trying to eat your way out of a coma-over, listen to *this*!"

Booze = "pay attention to me." That's stinkmath.

Spiders on drugs

2007-01-06T21:12:00.001-05:00

I've been trying to kick caffeine over the last several months, and it's been a hell of a shift. i'm the caffeine spider, and you're the thc spider.

Yes, i know it's a joke.

stinkrock

2007-01-06T19:54:00.000-05:00

so I'm trying to figure out what the hell to do with this here blog in 2007. I haven't written (or attempted to anything as good as Waved Rumor's last post in a long time, and probably won't. It's easy and fun to get bombarded by content and struggle to find any voice to say something without fear of being repetitive, 'cos the kids like it shiny and new. I think I unwittingly assigned myself a 'what does stinkrock mean to me in 2007?' homework assignment.

I'll admit I've lost steam on making music. There's so much good music being made, and better yet there's so much good music that has been made. Fatigue has definitely rounded the square edges in my brain, but on a much greater scale I've encountered songcraft and sound that's helped shape my life. I've always assumed there'd be a point I'd reach where I'd eventually stop playing so much and listen more to other voices. Music, after all, is communication, and other voices are stronger and readier than mine.

Then today I got this email:

-------------------------------
Hi,
I want to know who stinkrock is....I wanted to use that name as a
handle...I have 2 cats, Rocky & Stinker.............Do you really want
this name? Please write.
-------------------------------

It's a friendly note, but there was something about that phrase "do you really want this name?" that got to me.
So I wrote, and I realized I didn't want to relinquish the Stinkrock handle or the Stinkrock music or the Stinkrock idea just yet. Here's what I wrote:

I'm afraid I'm a bit married to it and have a lot of subscriptions coming through it, so I'm going to hold onto it. What does it mean to me?

Stinkrock is a musical genre that describes rock bands who ignore slickness and scaleability for viscera and experience, 'warts and all' as they say. It's named after the second release by the legendary Minneapolis bar band The Replacements, which was called 'Stink' (released 25 years ago; jeez I'm getting old). To me it describes the devil-may-care-but-doesn't attitude that I find to be the quintessential ingredient in what makes the music in my life and times pure. Sure, I got into bands in college to meet girls, but then you get the bug, and you stick with it for something more.

But Stinkrock is an attitude, not just a sound. I don't know how well you know your rock 'n' roll history, but back in the '60s being in a rock band was hard. You could get a deal from a record label pretty easily but you were still scorned. Frank Sinatra's Reprise label put out rock'n'roll records but do you know what Ol' Blue Eyes said about rock and roll? He said, " Rock 'n Roll is the most brutal, ugly, desperate, vicious form of expression it has been my misfortune to hear." And you know what? He was right. rock and roll *is* brutal, ugly, desperate and vicious.

Or at least it's supposed to be. In recent years it's been tied into fashion and really gone off the tracks. So for me, holding onto the name is a wisp of a notion that the spirit of rock and roll hasn't completely disappeared. I hope you can understand.

Sorry if I prattled on too long, it's an unseasonably warm day in New York City and I found my way into a drinking establishment a little earlier than I'd care to. Anyway, Stinker and Rocky (particularly Stinker) are great cat names, and I hope you can find a suitable combining alternative. Have you considered rockstink? Or stinkerrock?

Thanks for listening. Send pix of your cats if you have them, I like animals.
------------------------------------------

In retrospect, it's a pretty annoying response, and I don't expect to hear back from Name Withheld. But that's my peripatetic brain at work.

So I'm going another year. And if I get pictures of those cats, you'll be the first to know.

GREATEST MOVIE CHARACTERS OF ALL TIME #3: BEETLEJUICE

2007-01-01T20:02:00.000-05:00

"I'm the ghost with the most, babe."

Ask me any day, and I will tell you that the music, movies and pop culture that you love hooks you when you're 15-16 years old. There's no stronger reference.

When I was 15, my friend Andy bought an Amiga, the first computer ever built to sample audio and video. This was in the late 80s. The first thing he did with his machine was to load in audio of Michael Keaton's turn as beetlejuice. I'd go over to his house and he had created the first ever Beetlejuice sampler. We'd wander around high school perfecting our Beetlejuice voices reciting lines like 'ooh la la - what do we got here? The Maitlands....cute couple. Look nice and stupid! ha ha ha ha ha. '

Beetlejuice is the best movie ever made about death; it takes the comical view that the whole experience is a bureaucracy, and getting to die gracefully requires the ability to work through a DMV. The Maitlands (Geena Davis and Alec Baldwin) get assigned a caseworker, unsuccessfully try to haunt their own house, and puzzle over The Handbook for the Recently Deceased. This was Tim Burton in his Beatles '65 period; he had just made Pee Wee's Big Adventure, he went on to make the best Batmans. This period ends, btw, when he made the hilarious and completely misunderstood Mars Attacks!, and reinvented himself as a Johnny Depp vehicle. (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory was on cable today, and it's unwatchable. It's absolutely terrible.)

Michael Keaton is the funniest guy who ever showed up in movies in the late '80s. Michael Keaton is easily the best Batman ever committed to celluloid; he steals every scene he's in in Tarantino's Jackie Brown, but he absolutely kills as Mr. Mom and Beetlejuice. This movie was reportedly not even supposed to be a comedy; it was going to be a morbid drama about death until Michael Keaton started ad libbing his scenes, and as a result, it's the only gallows humor screwball comedy I can think of.

Anyway, Keaton's only got a few scenes in this flick; about 30 minutes when the Maitlands first enlist his help, he lets spew a monologue that makes me fudge my shorts. The guy's scene the Exorcist 167 fuckin' times, and it keeps getting funner every single time he sees it. And in the big showstopping number at the end, when Winona Ryder (in the quintessential 'I can't wait until you're 18 so I can fantasize about you legally' role) agrees to marry him to save the Maitlands from her family, it gets amazing.

So what the hell happened to Michael Keaton, anyway?

happy new year!

2007-01-01T19:32:00.000-05:00

hey occasional stinkrock reader,

What a mindbending AC/December. I barely survived, but I'm more alive than ever. Best wishes to you in '07.

I'm a listmaker, but I have no lists. Instead, I've got three things to share to kick '06.

#1: This was the most fascinating thing I saw this year. Malcolm Gladwell sits with guys who think they've hit on a formula for making movies into $$. If the video doesn't load the first time, refresh the page. If you still can't see it, email me.

(This is a long clip, but it's required viewing. Carve out the time.)

#2: My favorite rock band of the 20 o-o's is Mclusky, and Andy Falkous, the lightsabre cocksucking bluesman who ran that band has finally resurfaced with his new project 'Future of the Left'. Check out the first two songs at their myspace page and get in on the ground level. As always, remember that the best bands can't afford to be professional musicians.

#3. Did you ever see Cool Hand Luke? Read the interview with the original Luke. Build your life and make '07 a good year.

GREATEST MOVIE CHARACTERS OF ALL TIME: BUD

2006-12-12T23:26:00.000-05:00

"A Repo Man's always intense! C'mon, let's go get a drink!"

Holy rolypoly, it's been a long time since I updated this thread of my favorite movie characters. I've got two coming at you. Here's the first one, the next one's tomorrow.

The first one is the inimitable 'Bud'; Harry Dean Stanton from Repo Man.

Repo Man is one of those quintessential movies for me. If you follow the latitude lines of punk rock and the longitude lines of low-budget movies, you end up in a bizarro land where these guys exist, drinking generic beer and living by an unrecognizable code. There is no other movie ever made quite like it.

Harry Dean Stanton was the only Hollywood made guy in this movie, and he picked up the role because he met the director (Alex Cox) at a party, and told him his soul was dead, or that he was a ghost, or something to that effect. The real story's on the DVD commentary, I just don't remember it now.

Harry Dean Stanton could chew the fire out of a candle without blowing smoke. The guy's a veteran of World War II, shown up in 100 different movies and TV shows, but is always himself, and a cut above everyone else. Bud *is* the Repo Man code that he spouts through the movie, which is based on Isaac Asimov's three laws of Robotics. The repo men work at 'Helping Hand Acceptance Corporation', and I always get the sense that Bud really believes he's helping people by jacking their rides.

Don't get me wrong - there are plenty of scenes that other guys steal; Dick Rude's fantastic death scene, the rodriguez brothers, Sy Richardson firing into that house, Otto's parents getting sucked into the televangelist, Miller proselytizing about the aliens (Bud, Miller, Lite...the repo men are named after beers, that's how you know you can trust them). This movie could've easily been a Big-Lebowskiesque tongue-in-cheek joke, but Bud anchors it. He lives what he teaches, and you're always pretty certain that HDS isn't even in character. If he showed up at your house for your car, you'd just give it to him. Without Bud, this movie is a romp where guys with mohawks get sushi and not pay.

I leave with my favorite Bud quote, which says it all: "I would rather die on my feet than live on my knees."

Take witness with these clips:

1

2 (there's no way they paid for that)

J. Robbins

2006-12-12T14:03:00.000-05:00

I used to be a big Jawbox fan, and this is terrible news.

Where does the time go

2006-12-07T10:26:00.000-05:00

Sheer insanity, my life is. Dropping a quick note to catalog my doings, so I can point the medical professionals somewhere in two weeks when they ask me "how the hell did you do this to yourself?"

Last Friday at M Shanghai, I played with Via Skyway for George's 34th birthday, preceded by the best hot and sour soup I ever tasted. Playing with my old friends was a lot of fun; and after the 30th or 40th time it still doesn't get old playing bass while Rob Machold is playing drums. The guy is just incredible.

Oh yeah, Jackson broke the PA. Please contact him directly if you're seeking renumeration.

Saturday: hopped on a bus to Boston and went back to the Band in Boston podcast house in Somerville where Get Help performed two weeks ago. It was good to see Andy, Jen and their dogs Smoky and Stella, although Stella doesn't remember me, and for some reason isn't talking to me. Bitch.

Anyway, I was sitting in with Boston's The Beatings, who showed up sans bassist Erin, The Beatings are usually an aggressive audio experience, but the living room we were in prefers a relaxed vibe so the songs were reimagined with acoustic guitar and me on organ. Since Erin couldn't make it, I attempted to play bass lines with the organ foot pedals with varying success. Anyway, the podcast has already been posted at Band in Boston (follow the link above), take a listen; I see Andy has gracefully mixed the organ parts low.

Sunday, rehearsed for 5 hours with Get Help. Tony and I are having a contest to see who can die of malcontent first, and we express this musically via Get Help. Check out our goofy blogs at our myspace page, and see if you can find the aching inertia in all the whimsy.

Monday: tried to clean my apartment. I'd made a batch of homemade Egg Nog for a friend's weekend holiday party before dashing out to the via skyway show, and I'd done a pretty poor job of disposing of eggshells and milk and cream cartons. I came home to a smell that can best be described as a farm funeral home.

Last night: rehearsed for tonight's Boston Strikes Again! show at PA's Lounge and stayed up late putting together a kickass hardcore punk mix for the trip up. I don't think most bands listen to insanely loud music on the road, but Strikes Again! isn't most bands. We're insane. We'll be listening to Pantera, Slayer, the Butthole Surfers and my hardcore punk mix. I predict speeding tickets.

Anyway, I found a couple great mp3 blog sites for hardcore & punk; these guys dig out 7" from the vaults and share the wealth. Something I Learned Today and 7 inch punk. These are tremendous sites that I could spend weeks at. Despite the great hardcore music, they're just about the music, which is a refreshing change from the indie rock mp3 blogs which are increasingly about the bloggers themselves. And you know how much I hate bloggers writing about themselves .

Rule of Thumb

2006-12-01T09:38:00.000-05:00

I'm usually of the mind that musical taste is subjective; but here's a pretty reliable measuring stick to determine whether music sucks: when the artist throws up while performing it.

The Death of a Chinese Booking

2006-11-30T16:09:00.000-05:00

As mundane as my musical career has been--I have never lit myself on fire and have only been mildly electrocuted, but willfully on my part. So tomorrow is easily one of the highlights. I'm performing at a Chinese restaurant. Again.

My Chinese restaurant performance history boils down to one year in college. We convinced a run-of-the-mill eatery in Chinatown in Philadelphia to allow us to bring 2 kegs of beer into their restaurant and make a scene; while casual diners sat around us. I guess there were about 30 of us.

Anyway, they moved us into a private room the following year, and I played 'The Rainbow Connection' for a private party. There was something about how the garlic sauce hitting the water chestnuts that brought out the flavor in my acoustic guitar that night, and if Kermit's frog brethren hadn't been butchered and served to us as 'pork lo mein' that night, they'd have been proud of my rendition.

Well tomorrow night, there's a real band situation happening. Me and the Misanthrope are sitting in with Via Skyway, our pal George's ongoing project, at M Shanghai Den in Williamsburg. We are going to eat the bejesus out of some Chinese food (9:30) , take in a set by Hype of the States (10:30) and then crash the stage like braised duck at 11:30. I don't know about the acoustics, but the food looks really delicious.

Between now and then, I'll be coming up with all kinds of stage banter. But for now I'm excited that Rob has agreed to play the entire set with chopsticks, and that the chicken wire that separates the band from the fans will still have chickens hanging from it.

See you there!

Germs and mosquitoes

2006-11-30T09:27:00.000-05:00

Sorry for the light posting this week. I've been struggling with a nasty cold caught from my six-month-old nephew over the holidays; the only thoughts I've had to share are 'uhhh' and 'glugg' depending on when I last emptied my sinuses. Those six-month-olds are *brutal*; if a nation ever pools their runny-nose infants together they could launch a full-scale germ attack that would have this country on its knees, or maybe on its couches, watching Dr. Phil and 'That's So Raven'.

The only thing that really helps me in a cold is sleep; everything else (cold medicine, Vitamin C, liquor) just distracts the symptoms for a few hours. Unfortunately, I've recently been the subject of early morning mosquito attacks. They divebomb me and fly by my ear, then swoop up, waiting on a nearby wall or on the ceiling like a vampire bat for their next opportunity. I've taken to sleeping with a flyswatter.

Oh, and isn't it almost December? Do we live in Malaysia? Why am I still being attacked by mosquitoes?

Anyway, I'm on the hobo car back to health, so more posts today and tomorrow (including another entry in my 'all time favorite movie characters'.)

and fighting mosquitoes in the dead of night. It's been extremely disconcerting; they fly by my ear and then wait for me, either on the wall, or on the ceiling. Last night I slept with a flyswatter.)

GREATEST MOVIE CHARACTERS OF ALL TIME: ASH

2006-11-19T20:26:00.000-05:00

Let's kick this list off. In no apparent order, by the way.

First on my list is Ashley 'Ash' J. Williams.

"Klaatu barada N... Necktie... Nickel... It's an "N" word, it's definitely an "N" word! "

Bruce Campbell's Ash is not just the hero of the Evil Dead movies, he's the quintessential hero of all movie-time. James Bond needed gadgets and put vermouth in his martinis, Indiana Jones was a Screaming Suzy around snakes and slept with Calista Flockhart...Ash sawed off his hand and affixed a chainsaw to kill the undead. *Groo-vy*.

The first Evil Dead movie is Sam Raimi's first, it came out when he was 22. He went to high school with Bruce Campbell, and in high school, I imagine that Bruce Campbell held up school buses to save virgins. And the first movie is a low-budget thrill ride, where Sam exhibits his black sense of humor and some wild camera tricks that give these B-movies a unique look.

But it's Evil Dead II where everything takes off, and Bruce Campbell really comes into his own. Where Evil Dead pits a bunch of stupid college students against 80,000 years of dead demons, #2 just gives us Ash. He survives and destroys everything evil because, frankly? It just doesn't matter. Just set up the obstacles; Ash knocks them down like he's bowling for dollar$.

Ash is also one of the most quotable movie characters ever. The quotes themselves aren't that memorable, it's just that he speaks to everyone like he's going to have to kill them or he's going to have sex with them.

One of my favorite fight scenes ever is between Ash and his possessed hand in Evil Dead II. It's a little gory, but pretty damn funny.

so what's it like to be a band whore?

2006-11-16T22:00:00.000-05:00

I just read my goofy little description about what stinkrock was supposed to be about. listmaking and ranting, for sure, and I need to update the description. but that "3+ bands" thing isn't really coming through, is it? Have you ever really wondered what it's like to be a band whore? Here's a glimpse of the last 4 weeks or so and a peephole at the upcoming 4:

Oct. 20: After a visit to the doctor earlier that day where I was anesthetized, I head to the final mixing session for House of Blondes. You know it's official 'cos Paul's there (he's the drummer). That night, George Vitray wraps up that House of Blondes record we started recording in 1999. No one shows up at the wrap party.

(House of Blondes deserves its own post; and through most of September and October George and John and I were bunkered down. It's fun to make a record that takes nearly as long as 'Apocalypse Now' to make but doesn't involve cow butchering or Brando. Although George is like Brando in many ways...)

Oct. 26: Tony comes over and we work on Get Help songs for four hours, because he's signed us up for a show in Boston on Dec. 14th and we need material. Halfway through, his brother Mike comes over, whinges about his girlfriend, drinks some beer, and tells his brother that his songs are too long. We make some edits.

Oct. 27: Cardinals win the World Series. I walk home in the rain at 2am.

Oct. 28: With my new-ish Pro Tools setup, I meet Jeff Wiens at the Strikes Again! rehearsal space and he tracks some parts for 3-4 hours. Later that night, I see a Misfits cover band with JC from SA! and we stay up till 5 a.m.

Oct. 29: rehearse with Strikes Again!

Oct. 31: mix some rough ideas and email out to Strikes! guys. I've got my apartment wired so that I can record or mix at a whim. 10 years ago I read in a Bob Mould interview that he's got everything ready to go so that he can record in a moment's notice. This is when he lived in Texas, though; it's not as easy in a NY apartment. But it's close.

Nov. 1st: Strikes! rehearses again. John and John track some new bass, vocal and guitar parts.
Nov. 3rd: more recording with Jeff. I decide to go to Smoke and Mirrors the following weekend and lay down some drum tracks with Chris.

Nov. 4th-8th. I have no idea what happened. Honestly. I practiced my drum parts, I'm pretty sure I showed up at work...

Nov. 9th: rehearse with Tony on Get Help. He's enlisted a band of Boston friends (including drummer Dennis from his band the Beatings, one of my favorite drummers ever), and we're heading up to Boston the following weekend to play with them.

Nov. 11th: Stay up late writing lyrics to 3 Get Help Songs. It usually takes me 6 weeks to finish words to a song. Tonight it took me 5-6 hours. The key: repeat verses!

Nov. 12th: After being up most of the night, I head to S&M with John van atta and track drums for several hours. If you've caught a whiff of Strikes Again!, playing drums for several hours ain't like being in the Grateful Dead. It's painful. More takes ended by me smashing my hand with my stick than I care to remember.

All that being said, the new Smoke and Mirrors is kicking the Hope Street location, at least in terms of drum sounds. Those brand new Neve preamps kick a lot of ass, but Chris played us a few samplings of different combinations of mics, and even the one room mic and the Shure 57 stuck out in the hall with the doors closed sounded pretty awesome. Chris also said I'd become a much better drummer since I'd recorded last. That was pretty sweet to hear. Someone buy that kid a modem.

At the end of the session, George gives me a CD. I'm playing bass for a Via Skyway show on 12/2.

Nov. 13th: Tony and I trade emails and decide to head up to Boston this upcoming weekend to rehearse with our fledgling band; at least 4/5 of them. He casually mentions that we're performing live on a podcast called the Best of Boston. We tape this Saturday at 10/18; once I know when it airs, you'll hear more.

Last night: Get Help rehearsal. And now I have to sign off, because I'm leaving work early to go rehearse in Boston, where I'll spend 4 of the next 5 weekends.

December: I have three shows with three different bands; 12/2 with Via Skyway, 12/7 with Strikes! in Boston, 12/14 with Get Help in Boston.
--------------

So that's how it is. And as crazy as it all sounds, I don't know what else to do with my time. As long as one person reacts in a positive way to a piece of music I contributed to, this is how it will go.

Signing off and packing for Boston,

SR

jolly pirate donuts

2006-11-16T21:50:00.000-05:00

This is who am I on the inside. And actually? pretty lately, pretty occasionally, this is who I am on the outside.

Youtube link

(Blogger beta currently doesn't allow embedded YouTube videos. Move along.)

Village Voice vs. the Decemberists

2006-11-15T15:52:00.000-05:00

Ooh! Chris Ott of the Village Voice writes a Decemberists takedown rife with factual inaccuracies and personal attacks, but then the Decemberist's lead singer's girlfriend writes in to defend him (scroll down to the bottom of the page). Saucy!

Colin Meloy does have a bit of an ego problem; he wrote the 33 1/3 book for the Mats' Let it Be entirely about his childhood, and didn't even pepper it with ship or war or pelanquin references like he does his lyrics. His band's music is pleasant and lush and a little boring. I'm just excited that someone feels strongly enough to rip into him personally and irrationally. I really love how irrationally upset music makes people sometimes.

I enjoyed this exchange:

--------------------
"Familiar world of self-pitying white people looking for reasons to be unhappy?"

"Is that what you'd call a dance off contest, a pretend lava pit down the middle of the audience, three sing alongs, and cell phone calls to audiences members' mothers?"
--------------------

Does that sound like happiness? 2,000 people singing the lines "I am on reprieve
lacking my joie de vivre" in ensemble, some stranger getting your mom out of bed late at night (my mom's a poor sleeper to begin with), and dozens of people pretending to burn to death in a fake lava pit?

Well, it certainly sounds like happiness to me. Like Twister on acid.
Stay lugubrious, Decemberists!

Jukeboxin'

2006-11-15T13:32:00.000-05:00

Even if this were written in complete earnestness, I'd believe it to be true.

A nice followup article would tackle the crazy issue of how to sabotage the jukebox. I knew a guy who would play 'Echoes' by Pink Floyd with all five plays. I never did anything that crazy, although once some friends of mine played 'Jessica' by the Allman Brothers 3 times in a row just because we couldn't get enough of it.
(oh, and two weeks ago, I listened to 'Tuesday's Gone' about 75 times in a row, but I was alone, and the Cardinals had just won the world series.)

My most successful jukebox moment has to be in a bar attached to a bowling alley somewhere in Pennsylvania. I surveyed the crowd; quiet, keeping to themselves, or laughing. not much music playing. I nodded, walked to the jukebox and put in 'The Gambler' by Kenny Rogers.

You can't gamble in Pennsylvania. Hell, you can barely stick your neck out without some Quaker trying to chop it off. But somehow, everyone on their barstool felt a little rambly, a little gambly, and before I knew it half the bar was singing along. I'd done a good thing.

Flip side:

In college I lived in a fraternity house (albeit a house where people like the Dead Milkmen, the Murder Junkies and Wesley Willis would perform in our living room). Every Thursday we had a party where people would come over, drink free beer, play pool and foosball. It was like 'Dazed and Confused', except with uglier chicks. It was here as a freshman I heard incredible music I'd never heard before. And if you were the guy serving the beer, you got control over the stereo,

This house never catered much to students, but more to people in the outlying Philadelphia area, and for a time, we became a party location for friends and posse members of the Goats, a Roots-like hip-hop band that made a bit of noise in the early '90s. Well, they took over our party and played nothing but Goats for several weeks in a row, and my roommate and I got plenty sick of it. So the following week, we signed up for 4 hours of bar shifts, playing Smashing Pumpkins and punk rock and probably some Metallica. After turning down 40-50 requests to change the music, some guy pulled out a taser, turned it on, and jammed it to my head. It turns out he turned it off before making contact, but it freaked the crap out of me.
I guess the moral of that story is, some people freakin' *hate* the Smashing Pumpkins. Makes people angry!

And then there's the proudest moment:

The time my band Vote for Noah got our CD in our neighborhood bar, Fitzgerald's at 24th and 3rd. We'd play our song and look around the room with our eyes bugging, waiting for people to go into convulsions, start speaking in tongues, and buy us shots. It didn't play out quite like that, partially because the songs were so much quieter than anything else being played (mastering is important kids!) but the first time you cue up a song you wrote on a jukebox is pretty special.

GREATEST MOVIE CHARACTERS OF ALL TIME: PREAMBLE

2006-11-10T02:45:00.000-05:00

So I've got a job, and Donald Rumsfeld doesn't. Why don't I feel satisfied?

Long ago, I discovered my greatest gift: the ability to ignore real life when something fictitious was happening. Hell, I was programmed to; I was baptized a Catholic when I was 90 days old. 45,000 days later, or however the hell old I am, I'm still drawn to fiction, but g*d didn't keep the seat warm. it's to the movies these days, where accidents happen for a reason, problems are solved in 90-120 minutes, and where life is imitated with all the boring parts left out.

In the same way that the first 6 minutes of Fight Club revealed that Edward Norton wanted to be Brad Pitt, so goes the moviegoer: we want to be someone better. If you're like me, you sink into movies and want to become the hero of the story. You want to be Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca, Harrison Ford in Raiders of the Lost Ark or Star Wars, Tom Cruise in Top Gun, Tom Cruise in Risky Business, Tom Cruise in Cocktail, Tom Cruise in the Screech sex tape...well, you know who you want to be. (tom cruz? call me?)

Check in every week for the list.

O

grandparents

2006-11-07T21:16:00.000-05:00

My grandfather turns 94 next month. He's in tremendous health, still drives, and still takes care of my grandmother, to whom he's been married for 70+ years. They've lived in Kansas City since the universe was created.

They're tremendously kind people, respected in their community, and have terrific, biting senses of humor (particularly the grandmother). They taught me to play poker before I was 10 and send me a check every year on my birthday. My grandfather's been retired almost as long as he worked. If you're sitting in their kitchen at 5pm Central time, my grandfather will make you a martini to go along with his. gin, on the rocks, olives.

For some reason, I don't know that much about my family; as Midwesterners, we don't talk a lot. (My brother and I are currently seeking substantiation on a rumor that my parents smoked pot before we were born; b/c they haven't trucked with that sort of horse manure in recent years.) So I've always seen my grandfather as a kind old man who used to work for John Deere, took me fishing, and had a pool table and a slot machine in his basement (they'd spend a month out of the year in Vegas).
So it was a treat to get another perspective of him recently when my family sent along a transcription of some my grandparents' remembrances from years ago. I've included a few stories that give a good glimpse of how you might've spent your time during the Depression in the Midwest.

------------------------

Joe (cousin) and I were always looking for a way to make a dollar or two, or 50 cents. Anyway, around 1932 or 33, some guy gave us this old horse, and the horse was to a point where he was no good for work, and we knew we could sell him in the rendering works in Topeka [25 miles], so we had to get a way to get there. So we went out to the junk pile where farmers had discarded machinery, and we got two iron wheels off of an old cultivator; and we took some sticks and made a pair of shafts for this cultivator thing and fixed it so we could sit on a board seat and the horse would pull us. We got about half way to Topeka, and that horse got tired…he could hardly move. So we unhitched him and tied him where he could eat grass for a while. Some hitchhiker came by and wondered what we were doing, and we told him we were travelling across country with that horse, and we just stopped for a rest stop. I think Joe had brought along a pot of beans or something, so we were eating. The horse got rested up, and we drove on to east Topeka where this rendering works was. We got about a block from the place and we unhooked the horse from the cultivator wheels, and pushed that off to the side and left it sitting on the street, and walked the horse over. And I think we got three dollars. We hitchhiked back to St. Mary’s.
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We had an old truck. And Joe’s father had a big hog he wanted to sell, and he wanted me to haul it to Topeka. Well, I got to Topeka and we got over to the packing house, and the hog was laying down – he got too hot in the back of the truck; and they said they wouldn’t take the hog, we had to take him home. They wouldn’t take him there because they would be delayed; it might be a half day before they could butcher him, and he was overheated and probably would have died. They said he’d be all right if we just stabbed him, cut his throat; bleed him now and then butcher him when you got home. So I borrowed a big pocket knife from some guy, got in there and cut the hog’s throat in the truck. Had blood all over the inside of the truck. We hauled him back home, and I helped butcher him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Uncle Joe, dad’s alcoholic brother, had money. He worked as a mechanic at the Santa Fe shop, but he invested money somehow… probably with his brother, who was an investor.
He had bailed this guy out who was in jail in Topeka, and the guy disappeared. I can’t remember why he was in jail. They found him in Jackson, Mississippi, and we had a certain number of hours to pick him up. So Joe drove up to St. Mary’s and asked me if I would drive down to Jackson, Mississippi, with him [about 750 miles]. Of course, I had to drive 99% of the way.
We left in the afternoon, sometime late, and drove all night. We had a flat tire in one town. We had a spare, but we were afraid to put the spare on. There was a filling station close there, and we took the tire apart, patched the tire, put it back on and pumped it up at the filling station. We still had a spare with us. We got back in the car and Uncle Joe said, “Where did you get that patch?” I said, out of that box, and he said “I had all my money in there.” But we looked, and it was still in there.
So we drove on, and we picked up a girl hitchhiker. We asked her where she lived, and she said “Jackson, Mississippi.” We didn’t tell her where we were going; we were going to wait and see what she was like. But she was real nice. We stopped to eat, sometime in the middle of the night, and then we told here there that we were going to Jackson. She was so happy, and said “now I can go ahead and eat more food now,” and spent the rest of her money. And we took her and dropped her off. She said “Don’t dare come by my house.” She said, “I’ve got to walk into my house.”
So we went and got the prisoner, put him in the back seat with handcuffs. And we drove on … we hadn’t slept yet. Finally we decided we had to go to bed, and we got a room in a hotel. We took the prisoner over to the city jail; he had papers, so they put him in jail. Uncle Joe talked someone at the hotel into getting him some whiskey, which was bootleg then, nothing legal. They got him some whiskey, and they asked him where his car was parked, and he said “Over there at the police station.” Anyway, he got his whiskey.
The next morning we gathered the prisoner, put him in the back seat, and we picked up two girl hitchhikers – I don’t know why, and they sat in the back. And when they saw those handcuffs, they about went berserk. They rode along until we got to where they wanted to go. When we got to Kansas City, Uncle Joe was, oh, he was terribly thirsty. Well, I knew where to buy whiskey because I had been to Kansas City. So we went down the the city market and got some whiskey. I drank some of it, and Uncle Joe said, “I better be driving; you’ve had that whiskey.” And he was feeding it to the prisoner, too, and the prisoner was sitting in his handcuffs. When we got to Topeka, took him to the jail, and the prisoner was drunk when we turned him back in; but Joe got his bond money back.

a confidence man at work

2006-11-06T21:57:00.000-05:00

There's a good Newsweek article that gives a glimpse of how the rubes were duped into appearing in the Borat movie. (A few spoilers, don't read until you've seen it.)

And for heaven's sake, see it if you haven't, and if you have, see it again. It's incredibly hilarious, sure, but above and beyond that Sacha Baron Cohen is a con artist, and pulls off what has to be the most successful scam ever. And he films it, and it's #1 at the box office.

There will never be another movie like this. Go see it as soon as possible.

Marathon

2006-11-05T23:53:00.000-05:00

Congratulations to everyone who ran the marathon today. Marathon Sunday is one of my favorite days in New York; people line up in all 4 boroughs (sorry, Staten Island) to cheer and pay tribute to thousands of strangers as they attempt to achieve what seems so staggeringly unattainable.

Although I have several friends who have run marathons, and my own father's run two, I can't quite wrap my head around what it takes to do it. Anytime I meet someone who's run one, I look at them incredulously, like they've just told me they casually discovered one day they could fly, or that they've hung out with Wonder Woman, and her truth lasso wasn't all that, and they went out for Cosmos afterwards and exchanged numbers.

One of the things that draws me to the art of long-distance running is the concept of setting a rhythm. Rhythm's my doppelganger as a drummer, even when recording to a click track that clicks every 1/2 second or so. So after my good friend Kevin finished the marathon today, I was asking him about he establishes a running rhythm. He says it's difficult, but is helped by the fact that there's a clock at every mile. To me, that sounds like an eternity between beats. I guess I don't get it.

Anyway, I was out today to support Kevin. He's been an exceptional runner for as long as I've known him but this was his first foray into the marathon. He set out to run 6-minute miles, which is absolutely ludicrous; that's less than a minute-a-mile off the world-class runners.

Here's how fast 6 minute miles are: after heading over to Williamsburg at the Bedford stop to see him go by, I headed for right for the subway in order to get uptown to meet his family at 105th and 1st, where he'd be going by later. I got on the L quickly, and after a 7-8 minute wait for the express train, I opted for the local. And with all the marathon crowd, the train probably took a little while longer to get uptown, but nothing unreasonable. I got out at 103rd and Lex, and fearing I'd miss him, I jumped out of the train and began a full-on sprint to 105th and 1st. (my full-on sprint is, coincidentally, about a 6-minute mile.)

I caterwauled down 104th towards 1st avenue, and when I was about 20 feet from the corner, I see Kevin race by. I'd only seen 4-5 other people go by, but there he was; I was still too far away for him to see me.

Wait, I drew you a map to help you visualize:

-------------------------------------------------------
Kevin........................................(1st ave)
-------------------------------------------------------

m
e

1
0
4
t
h

S
t

(This map isn't drawn to scale; i.e., Kevin doesn't actually take up all of 1st avenue when he's on it. He's about 6'1.)

Since I'd seen him in Brooklyn, he'd run seven and a half miles, and outrun the NYC subway system. At a 6 minute mile pace, 7 1/2 miles is exactly 45 minutes, and I realized later that's exactly how long it took me to get from Wburg to that corner. Hell, I guess I knew exactly where he was going to be when I got off the train. That's rhythm.

Anyway, Kevin finished the race in an unbelievable 2:45, finishing 238th. He also beat Lance Armstrong, proving he has twice the balls of that so-called world-class athlete. (rimshot) Congratulations Kevin.

Photos here.

What does the C stand for again?

2006-11-03T11:18:00.000-05:00

I was all set to write a CMJ takedown this morning, but instead I'll point you to I can't Hank of Stay Fucked's post on the new Time Out NY blog.

CMJ continues to cater to a certain kind of band, and I suppose I wouldn't mind as much if I felt I liked that kind of band anymore (much more on that later). But even when I did, the shows are packaged with way too many people who don't care about music or completely deserted; sets are compressed, the sound is worse, etc.

Regardless, the festival is just a microcosm of big boring corporate rock, with that certain kind of band buying their way into prominence. oh, and the festival comes complete with cross-promotional crap; if it's going to take partnerships with porn stars to sustain the 'college' music biz, , perhaps the music just isn't very good.

just got my first comment!

2006-11-03T02:20:00.000-05:00

Instantaneous feedback! It says:

"Cool guestbook, interesting information... Keep it UP"

and links to, among other things:

Paintball
California weddings
Toyota highlander used parts
perfume dreams
reflections on the Vietnam diaspora

I'm ready for you, spammer. Bring it on.

stinkrock is back

2006-11-03T01:58:00.000-05:00

This blog started after my beloved St. Louis Cardinals got eliminated from the playoffs last year. I think I posted 6 blogs in one night.

Well, this year, the Cards won everything. They are, supposedly, the worst team to ever win a championship in any professional organized sport.

Over the last few weeks, I met a bunch of New Yorkers who were equally rabid fans, and watched several games of the playoffs with them. When it all was over, I hugged all of them, and sprayed champagne on several of them.

The only reason I met any of these people, the only reason I sought these people out in the first place, was because I was able to find them. And over the last few years, I've found Cardinals fans stinking up the Web, spanning geography and generation.

This isn't the first time I've had that experience. In 1995, I was a huge Bob Mould fan and discovered an email listserv dedicated to the topic of all things Bob Mould/Sugar related. Bob was my stepping stone. The commentary on the list was pretty dry, but I was amazed at the technology of sharing and extrapolating extreme fandom with complete strangers.

One day, on that list, some hardcore fan lists a tracklisting for a Bob solo live date, and includes the songs he played at his soundcheck, which featured a song called "Gold Star for Robot Boy" by a band called Guided by Voices. I checked this band out, and long LONG long story short, ended up joining an email list centered on the discussion of Guided by Voices. Which leads me to an outstanding fact:

Almost everyone I consider a friend in New York City; I met through this band. Seriously, almost everyone. Without GBV, I never would've joined Moneyshot, never would have become Microdot, never would've met or joined forces with Strikes Again!, never would have recorded at Smoke & Mirrors...never.

So, it's worth my weight in salt to keep connecting. You never know who you'll meet.

(Oh, and last thing...this is the most positive thing you'll hear me say for the next few months. Put your helmets on, and keep reading.)

2006-08-14T11:36:00.000-04:00

WHALEBONE

My friends in Franco and Billy have put their short film 'Whalebone' up at Youtube. If you have 10 minutes and headphones, give this one a whirl.

Pay special attention to the incidental music, as yours truly came up with it. The 'Theme from Whalebone' actually won Best Theme Song for a Short Film at the 2003 "Grammys".*

*This is true. Just don't confuse these Grammys with the ones you've heard of. These Grammys are short for 'Gramamines', and are the award show I play over and over in my mind when I can't sleep. Other categories include 'Best Breasts' and 'Best Superpower'.

ROCKDOCS

2006-08-11T00:27:00.000-04:00

Can I start with an aside, Shakespeare? The interiors of my East Village apartment building have just been freshly painted. all the trim is shit brown, and the walls are pale dead-flesh white. The fluorescent lighting isn't helping much; I feel like I'm living in a mint chocolate chip ice cream box that was built by Willy Wonka but ended up in the morgue on an episode of Quincy. If that makes no sense, come visit me. Especially if you comment anonymously.

To the content:

Lincoln Center screened a handful of documentaries about rock bands this week; I saw a couple of them. 'Does Everyone Stare' was filmed almost exclusively by Police drummer Stewart Copeland on a Super 8 video camera he bought when the band first formed. It's a pretty ugly looking video, but it appears that Stewart actually experienced the Police's thrust forward into world fame through his camera's eye, probably because he wasn't able to handle it in person. It's really voyeuristic, and breathtaking at points--I don't think I've ever seen a better document of what it's like to be in a band that explodes. There's a sequence where the band is trying to load into a car amidst a sea of 'We Want Sting' fans. After rushing through the fans into the waiting car, Stewart coolly neutralizes the fanatic throngs with an eerily detached subtitle (paraphrased): "We grew accustomed to the rhythms the crowds would beat out on the car as it drove away." And as they drive away, the car beats are deafening--it really is screaming fans bang on the side of the car. I don't think I've ever seen a better explanation of how tiresome and depersonalizing rabid stardom can be, and I now know why you can't approach celebrities. My starfucking days are marked.

At the same time, the documentary reveal the Police to be a conniving, market-positioning band from the start, which depressed me, because they were such good musicians. I can name dozens of people who count Andy Summers and Stewart as influences; and let's face it, Sting could sing. Despite a blistering performance of 'Next to You', where Stewart wisely hands his camera off to a lackey, I'm watching a band with a profit motive from day 1 unfold. Kinda depressing.

The antidote was the Mission of Burma film 'Not a Photograph'. MoB had a brief history in the late 70s early 80s, but are like the Velvet Underground in the legions of bands who they inspired. And the documentary shows them to be an extremely likeable band who challeged themselves, broke up amicably when guitarist Roger Miller succumbed to tinnitus, and reunited 19 years later without missing a beat. (The movie doesn't make enough of this, but they've put out two albums since reforming that are on par with their great work from the early '80s--2004's onOFFon and this year's The Obliterati.)

Ultimately, this movie left me wanting, too. Part of the problem is that the guys in the band are super humble, and don't want to talk about themselves. So how does bassist Clint Conley, who had never written a song in his life before he join the band, write the three most recognized, iconic Burma songs? (Academy Fight Song, That's When I Reach for My Revolver and That's How I Escaped my Certain Fate for those of you playing along at home.) The movie doesn't even ask him. Which is all the more glaring when his wife reveals that he met him after the band broke up the first time, and he *never* picked up an instrument in the 19 years the band was on hiatus. (does everyone stare?)

There's lots to offer in these films for fans of the Police or Mission of Burma, but I'm curious how people who aren't fans will react. There's no moment in the Police documentary that stumps for 'Synchronicity', as Stewart's completely dry-heaving on fame at this point, but it's one of the smartest, most varied pop albums Western culture will ever see. (Synchronicity II has the best lyric ever featured in a song played in heavy rotation on MTV and Friday Night Videos. If you don't work an office job, don't bother commenting.)

The saving grace in the two movies was Peter Prescott, the drummer for Mission of Burma. His interview segments in the movie inspired me to no end. In the 19-year hiatus, he's been bread-lining at a record store in Boston. Near the close of the movie, he intimates that he thinks that after years of underappreciation, his band is unfairly heralded. And he's not sure what is better, being criminally ignored for years, or being faddishly adored for a few weeks. It's maybe the most earnest sentiment I've ever seen displayed by a musician who brushed up against fame (& fortune).

Anyway, Mission of Burma have a fantastic new album out this year, The Obliterati. Seek it out. And fuck The Police (RIP Eazy-E)

WHY I LOVE SOCCER/NY

2006-08-10T00:49:00.000-04:00

9:07 a.m. I'm insanely late to work and am on the uptown 6 train platform, shaking like a palm tree in a hurricane from a food-free coffee blast. I've got my iPod in my hand and am feverishly searching for the 10-15 minutes of music I'll use to speed up my adrenaline drip before I turn into an office lobotomy for 9+ hours.

The train comes. As I'm stepping onto the car, the iPod slips out of my hand and is heading right for the gap between the train and the platform. I bend down to catch it, and my sunglasses pour out of my shirt pocket.

Thanks to a childhood of soccer, I swing my right foot (I'm left-footed) and safely kick my iPod back onto the platform. It skitters about 6 feet, while my momentum carries me onto the train, and two women gape at me. Then their eyes turn to a fixed place outside the door. I follow their gaze, I jump outside the doors and pick my iPod up, it's still working. I reenter the train.

One of the women mouths something...my earbuds are still lodged firmly in my brain. "You wop we woppw op." I take the earbuds out. "You dropped something else." I jump back off the train. Her friend says, "it's on the track". "My sunglasses", I realize. They're gone. I re-enter. The train pulls out.

I sit down a couple seats across from one of the women. Her friend is sitting directly across from her; let's call her Woman 2. I'm checking out the iPod - it still works, and now I really need that 10-15 minutes of music. But she asks me a captivating question:

"Would you have gone down into the tracks to get that iPod?"

I don't have an answer for that. The iPod is a pricey piece of equipment, yes, but not worth a human life. On the other hand, I've spent countless hours loading songs onto that thing so I can paint any moment I'm experiencing with the appropriate hue. So I start rationalizing -- it's rush hour and trains are coming every 2 minutes. But all I need to do is jump down - I'm several feet away from the third rail - grab it, and come back up.

My reverie is broken by woman 2: "I'd jump down there in a second for my iPod, my cell phone."

We get to talking. Her boyfriend has told her there's a recess under the platform to hide in if a train does come. I engage; I ask her what her boyfriend's been down on the tracks for. It turns out he's an MTA employee and knows the minutiae of track jumping. She also confirms that most people don't realize how deep the track is; it's about 6 feet 4 inches. And then Woman 1 puts the question to me again - would I go after an iPod?

I realized the answer hinges entirely on my ability to pull myself out of a 6 foot 4 inch ditch. I've never done that. And if you're down there and a train comes, there's no way to predict how you make out in panic mode.

The conversation ended, and I plugged myself into a song. A couple stops later, they got off and tapped me on the shoulder to say goodbye. I'll never ever ever see them again.

In thses hree minutes, I was reminded yet again why I love living in New York City. We're rats 99% of the time, but when we plan our 1% prison breaks, someone's watching. On top of that, they listen and help us escape.

CABARET

2006-08-06T23:26:00.000-04:00

Last Thursday, I had the unique opportunity to see songs that I'd written performed by entirely different other people. I had put lyrics from a friend of mine to music and recorded them (8 songs in total). She assembled a band, rented out a space in hell's kitchen and put on a show where she performed the songs and interspersed them with monologues.

For awhile, I've been experimenting with the idea of making music for other people. This was my first project of crafting songs completely as a technician, which is a huge jump from writing songs to express myself creatively. It was an alien abduction to sit anonymously in an audience and watch the music spill out to the crowd without any personal control over how they'd be conceived.

To my surprise, I reacted very selfishly - I wasn't concerned with how people would take to the songs. I wrote them for my friend, and she'd already told me she was very happy with how they turned out. I also wasn't concerned about how she'd perform. I was way too worked up over the very irrational concern that the band play them right and sell them with the same conviction I invested in writing them. And the band was fantastic - they learned the songs in 3 weeks, performed them very faithfully to my arrangements, and put on a great show.

But I had a severe case of the nerves letting go of these songs. Do plastic surgeons feel like this, building the perfect nose, and then telling their patients not to become boxers or deviate their septums? I found it hard to let go.

I also realized how talented I am at ripping off Pat Benatar songs and Aerosmith power ballads, and how much more 'successful' I could be if I did so on a regular basis. Look out, mediocrity.

LESSONS PART III

2006-08-02T01:47:00.000-04:00

What a week! I don't know where I've been.

I took my first ever guitar lesson with Charles Bissell from the Wrens. I'd met Charles before; a very good friend of mine turned me onto the Wrens right before their last album 'The Meadowlands' came out. We saw them in North Philly; they played a set of originals and then a set of covers, where they invited audience members up to sing and play. When they launched into 'Don't Change' by INXS, I waited until the whole song was over, and then offered up my rudimentary keyboard skills. they ushered me onstage and we played the whole song over again. For about 3 minutes and 30 seconds, I took the Wrens to a level they've never realized before or since. At least, that's how I saw it.

To the present--The Wrens launched a new website two weeks ago and on it announce that Charles is giving guitar lessons again. I figured there'd be a rush to that front door, but when I showed up he intimated I was the first lesson since he'd made the offer, and thus the first student in 7 years.

Aside about lessons:

I've never had a guitar lesson before. But I learned music theory on piano as a kid. I remember distinctly that my first lesson was a week before my 5th birthday. When I was 7, my parents unleashed a 120-pound manic grad student on me. He lived in Oakland, and he drove me like a garment maker. He'd hold recitals in his apartment and all I can remember is nervousness and dust.

At some point he signed me up for some standardized skills test, where an instructor sat next to me and asked me to play minor 4ths and augmented scales. In my unreliable memory, I remember this taking place on some vacuous plain, somewhere between Cloud City, the labs of NIMH and the video set of Tom Petty's 'You Got Lucky'. I think I passed.

Later he told me I'd be playing a recital and taught me Beethoven's Minuet in G, which I performed on a stage in front of at least 50,000,000 people, and I've never been more freaked out. two weeks later i'm outside playing a spirited game of kickball with friends, and my mom comes outside and tells me my piano teacher is on the phone. WTF? (I didn't know the f word at that point, but I assure you that I said What the F?)

I get on the phone and he tells me that I just earned $25. My reaction is legendary: $25 in 1981 to a 9-year old is like $50 billion to Warren Buffett today.

I ask him about the 'earned' part. He tells me that the recital I freaked out in was a contest, and I came in 2nd place. I lose my shit. (And I'm 9, I still don't know what shit is, either). I had instanteously learned that I was (a) competing, and (b) lost. Enough of piano!

In the deal of the century, I negotiated (a) discontinuation of piano lessons, and (b) a drum set. In return, I gave up nothing. back to the guitar lesson!

The first 30 minutes were a little rough as he sussed out that I had fairly good technique (I had no idea; I must have learned it from watching the misanthrope play for several years). but he was intent on teaching me something, so we finally negotiated a couple scale exercises.

At one point I asked him about how easily knowing scales on guitar translates into playing over actual songs. I don't remember what he answered, I just started playing C - G - F on my guitar and he played over it for about a minute, and the shit he played was better than most of the new music I'll hear all year.

We talked a little politics, made some Yngwie jokes, and discussed the virtue of recording to a click track (the wrens generally don't). I told him I'd seen him play solo, where he records 1-2 guitar loops live and then plays and sings over them. he told me he'd be interested in a more equipment-themed approach at a future lesson, and is also working on getting his laptop set up for recording at guitar lessons. So
I could conceivably be recording ideas with him at future lessons. Fun.

LESSONS PART II

2006-07-31T18:32:00.000-04:00

Well, it's happening. in 90 minutes I take my first guitar lesson from the guitarist one of my favorite bands (Charles from the Wrens). I feel like I'm going to rock school.

Wish me poise!

BATTLE

2006-07-31T09:37:00.000-04:00

(from the desk of my band Strikes Again!)

'Strikes Again! has been chosen to compete by Fearless Music in their Battle of the Bands! We're represented by our set staple 'Hell Disaster', and there's no song we'd rather go into battle with. At this early stage it's strictly a virtual battle, so we only get to fight with your votes.

Here's all you need to do to vote for Strikes Again!

1. Go to http://www.fearlessmusic.tv/battleofthebands.php
2. In the center box, select the bubble next to Strikes Again! and click 'Vote'. (1 vote per computer)
3. Tell your friends and enemies to do the same.

The ultimate winner of the Battle gets to perform on Fearless Music, a TV show featuring bands who fly under the radar of mainstream media. The show airs weekly across the U.S. Bands who have been featured on the program include The Wrens, Idlewild, French Kicks, Longwave, British Sea Power, and many others.

We appreciate your support. Thanks for voting!

John, John, Mike & Jeff'

STRIPPERS

2006-07-26T13:49:00.000-04:00

Ever since men became generally unhappy with their lives (sometime in the early 1970s, I think), there have been strip clubs. And they're depressing, depressing places.

Well, now they're dangerous to boot. Apparently strippers kill unsuspecting johns and leave the skulls lying around like empty Coors cans in their childhood trailer park. No word on whether she ate their flesh first, but it's a safe assumption.

Please note in the linked article that the cops were responding to a guy who was threatening to "kill himself with a hammer", which is the most preposterous thing I've ever heard. Because if anyone did, there would be a band called 'Hammercide'. or maybe 'Hammercyde'.

Word to the wise: if a stripper offers to take you home, wear some sort of protective headgear or facemask so she can't chew your face off. Take it from Stinkrock.

2006-07-21T13:45:00.000-04:00

Vader Sessions

A collection of Clips from Star Wars featuring Darth Vader in which Vader's dialogue is removed and dialogue spoken by James Earl Jones in his other movies is inserted. Godsauce.

INSECTDIGITAL

2006-07-20T18:21:00.000-04:00

Life's many confluence's flow and ebb around us as the seasons envelop one another. My music listening is seasonal. For instance, I really only listen to Tom Waits in the winter (from the Music to Drink Bourbon to series).

And then there's summer. When I was younger, DJs and music video channels would try to convince me that there were quintessential summer songs. But summer is uncomfortable and unrelenting in New York City. People are hot, people are pressed in, and we stop being people. We smell like the oceans our ancestors swam through to get here. We either burn up in the city's open spaces or hide in the shade of the gothic pillars that are phasing us out. We become savages. I've seen people turn in the twinkling of an eye. The city heats up like a volcano, and we all look to escape. Music? At your own risk - turning on your stereo and your leaky air conditioner/ might cause a brown out.

And then some days it gets really hot, like it did this week. And here come the flies, to hide from the heat? Or are they crazy from it, like David Lee Roth with 1,000 eyes? Or are they attracted to the glow and the heat people give off, like winged paparazzi?

Well, this guy pictured below wanted neither. He seemed to be saying something portentous about the digital age of music (it's covered with flies). That, or he was looking for the feel good hit of the summer.

PEZ

2006-07-20T18:05:00.000-04:00

"Life's many confluence's flow and ebb around us as the seasons envelop one another. In this very manor a year has past since I wrote you last. Approximately 365 days ago you received my sculptures and proposal for the "Fallen Rapper Pez" series, featuring the portraits of Tupac Shakur, Eazy-E, and Biggie Smalls (Notorious B.I.G.). Each replica is meticulously crafted, lending to its in-artificiality in form and countenance (or manifestation). I am sure I needn't remind you of the historical significance of these influential African-American artists. "

The art of Packard Jennings, including his correspondence with Pez regarding the Fallen Rapper Pez Prototypes.

LESSONS

2006-07-12T16:33:00.000-04:00

Charles from the Wrens is giving guitar lessons. This does to me what Dallas did to Debbie (or Mclusky, for that matter).

He's a wildly inventive guitarist. I may have to take one just for fun.

M

SYD

2006-07-12T01:49:00.000-04:00

I should be sleeping, and I should be dreaming. but there are only a handful of musicians who made me what I am, and Syd Barrett is one of them.

Syd's life has been documented elsewhere, but here's the skinny: he formed pink floyd, he got addicted to drugs, he left the band. for the last 30 years, he's aimed to live a simple life living at his mom's and getting hounded by fans. He was dogged by ulcers and diabetes. He stopped making music before I was born.

It's terribly unsatisfying to lose a musician who has no idea what he built for others. Especially when he suffered physically and mentally. So even though Roger Barrett put 'Syd' to rest a long time ago, I'm just catching up. So I stayed up late listening to and recording a version of arguably his prettiest song: 'Dark Globes' from his first solo record.

mp3

HOPE

2006-07-11T00:16:00.000-04:00

My experience with blogging so far has been hit-or-miss, sister-kiss. The best blogs stay constant, and interesting, I go hot and cold. Jackson and Chrispy (before he went Rip van Winkle) do an excellent job.

But for some reason, neither of them were compelled to talk about the fact that Smoke & Mirrors and Via Skyway are losing their recording spaces on July 31st. I've recorded here with three bands. Why aren't we talking about this? Is this a taboo? It's possible that everyone's playing an elaborate 'we're moving' trick on me so I won't see them again. My parents did this to me when I was 11.

I now have three weeks to take the news badly, go into shock, emerge, get outraged, talk myself down, and then offer up loving tributes to these places. So let's get started.
-------------------------------
(thud)
Where am I?....ow....my head......

This is outrageous!

If they have to move...i mean, it sucks, but...oh god! muhhhfff....that smell...was that me?
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uh, let's get to the loving tribute.

I've spent hundreds of hours at these communes, ever since Rob Machold suggested we record the Microdot record there in 2003. Since then, I've been through the 11 hope street door like a whore in a condom store, bringing two other bands into the fold, playing in George's band, or giving Ted his keys back at 2:30 after he'd given them to me 5 hours earlier to buy beer and chips, cabbing home, and finding them in my pocket.

I can't make sense of it all right now, but here are five memorable 11 hope moments. (If I number them 1-5, you'll think they're of equal importance. But if I number them 5 to 1 you'll think they increase in importance. Humans are sheep.)

5. Jeff records the guitar part on 'Ripped Open'. Misanthrope had dropped in, and he, Chrispy, me and John van Atta simultaneously experienced what electric guitar can do for the human experience. It was transcendental--if there's a heaven, we're all in it*.

4. Recording the vocal for 'Vera' on the Smoke & Mirrors tribute to Pink Floyd's 'The Wall'. After 6 years of piano lessons that I really need to get around to thanking my parents for, I parlayed them into playing "Nobody Home" into "Vera" over and over.** Side 3 has always been my favorite.

("VERA! VERA! What has become of you? Does anybody else here feel the way I do?" are the most visceral lyrics of all time. I mean, for the British.)

3. I get in a fight with George about (a) my guitar part (b) my arrangement idea (c) my bass line (d) my vocal performance (e) his arrangement idea (f) his guitar part (g) the fact that he's playing guitar in my band (h) the fact that I'm playing bass in his band (i) tuning (j) the lighting (k) which keyboard sound to use for the ambient part that no one will hear. I *love* fighting with George. Even better, I called him an asshole over a firetruck of beer at Spuyten Duyvil, and now he's eerily respectful. It must've been the crocodile tears. I share two things in common with Whitney Houston: I get so emotional, and I forget the other one.

2. The vocal session for 'No U-Turn'. After a late night of tracking, George and Chris urged me to record a scratch vocal for this song, which is about my marriage ending and deciding to pour all that energy into music. I didn't really know these guys at this point, but George plied me with whiskey, put me in the live room, and talked me through the take like I was a jumper. I don't even know if this is the one on the record, but this is the lyric I'm most proud of.

1. There is no #1. half because my friends were kicked out, and half because it's going to get better at their new digs in greenpoint.

Hail, hail, Smoke & Mirrors. Hail hail, Via Skyway.

*there is no heaven.

ZIDANE

2006-07-10T14:22:00.000-04:00

So I've heard two reports on what the Italian said to Zidane to bring on yesterday's vicious headbutt. The first is 'dirty terrorist'. the second is he called his sister a prostitute. Twice. I think it's going to end up being the former, but I so hope it's the latter. When you throw in the nipple twist Materazzi gave Zidane, it has to be the prostitute story, right?

Freedom fries just became headbutt fries.

Finally, penalty kicks should never decide the World Cup Final. I propose Multiball, in which an additional ball is added to the field every 10 minutes.

TEKSERVE

2006-07-08T02:06:00.000-04:00

Last month I walked into Tekserve to see if a new battery would fix my iPod. I walked out two hours later with a brand new MacBook.

I've long been hoping to upgrade from my zip-disk eating 8-track to a mac laptop/mbox pro tools setup, and I'd found a good deal for an mbox on craigslist a couple weeks earlier. I was also a week away from trip down to my parents' place; they have a baby grand piano in a room with beautiful acoustics, and they were off in Europe. I envisioned myself sitting at the piano, drinking red wine, stuffing my own tip jar, and recording everything.

Back to Tekserve. A few days before I got there, Tekserve employees told me Digidesign had released a new version of Pro Tools to work on the Mac Book Pro (which I know Misanthrope's been waiting for--has he got it?). After weighing the Mac Book against the pro, i realized that the 'Pro' really refers to video capability; the Pro comes with a better video card and more RAM, but for audio there doesn't appear to be much advantage.

I also figured that even though Digidesign isn't supporting ProTools on the MacBook yet, it'll happen. So I made the plunge. It seems to be a pretty popular machine, too -- pretty girls stop to talk to me more often when they see I have a macbook.

At one point the sales tech next to me thought I called the macbook 'cute'. He lit into me. Apple salesmen ain't no glamour boys - they're fierce! This guy looked like Manson meets Paul Giamatti meets every hairy geek you've ever met in your life: let's call him 'Dungeon Master'. He stood 5 foot 3 and at one point reached for a broad sword that didn't exist. Eventually, he agreed that Digidesign would come through on the Macbook, though.

After saving $200 by opting for the white Macbook over the black (am I a racist?) I had a rudimentary setup. And it turns out that the new version of PT does work. There are performance issues that shouldn't be there, but most of the problem is learning a new, infinitely more sophisticated system.

Anyway, I'm curious to see how others make out with the new line. And any advice on how to get better sounds is greatly appreciated.

One last note: I used to think that digital recording was supposed to empower musicians like me to be able to forgo the studios and get the sounds I wanted in the comfort of my own home. This is what I've been shooting for - I've spent thousands of dollars in my lifetime in recording studios.

But there's a mindset to recording music that differs from making music. I write when I'm impulsive, but recording requires me to be patient, and I'm not so good at patience. I've done some impulsive recording in the past (I recorded an EP in two weeks), and it was fun as hell, but it doesn't sound terribly good. Also, I don't think I'll ever get there technically. I understand some of the concepts, but I will never understand what dithering is.

But I still have the MacBook. I can cart it to our rehearsal space and record studios, and with its ultra-fast boot-up time I can get songwriting ideas down quickly. And because it gets so unbelievably, Raiders-of-the-Lost-Ark-melting face hot, I can use it to make pancakes and grilled cheese sandwiches.

DEBATE

2006-07-04T12:40:00.000-04:00

On the way back from a successful show in Boston this past weekend, Strikes Again! got involved in a debate over a sticky issue that's been in discussion for nearly two decades.

Ride the Lightning vs. Master of Puppets.

Metallica's the best American metal band ever, and their peak came somewhere between recording the last note of Ride the Lightning and the first note of Master of Puppets. But these albums go parallel. There's no match for Creeping Death or Master of Puppets' title track, but everything else is debatable. In our car, Ride the Lightning won, and it came down to 'Escape'. (Although we're still waiting to hear from our singer, who was sleeping off a 3-piece-Jolt-gum hangover. that may sound disney, but i had one piece and turned into a martian).