It's been interesting watching the frenzy over Jack's Knick commercials/comments etc. Hilarious that people get that worked up over it. Some of the comments are pretty insane. Makes you wonder if people don't have anything real to worry about in their lives.
God knows I do. I made a huge vat of Chili the other night and ate like three pounds of it in one sitting tonight. Now I think I'm hallucinating. It feels like there's a brick in my stomach. This was a huge mistake.
On the music front, I haven't heard anything good lately. Of course everyone and their mother has a Christmas album out. Leave it to Bing, folks. Somehow hearing Death Cab for Cutie play O Come all Ye Faithful or Audio Bullys banging out "The Little Drummer Boy" just isn't doing it for me. Not that I don't like a good Christmas album, because I do. My recommendation: The Clancy Brothers Christmas. Listen to it once and you will learn all about the story of baby Jesus and how to get shitfaced on Christmas.
Oh yeah, and why didn't anyone tell me Chad Magma was playing in New York! They played the Rub Room last Wednesday and I heard it was off the charts. My buddy Meathook was there- he recorded them playing "Simmering Sands" on his phone.
As you probably know, le Magma hasn't played in NY since '99. And now they make an already legendary appearance and I miss it. I can't believe it! I'm inconsolable.
You'd think Uncensored Interview could get a soundbite or two from the "Ultimate Under the Radar Band of All Time" (as they were dubbed in Vibrations Magazine.) C'mon guys! Get me an interview!
More later, I have to go throw up.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Jack Rocked
So my buddy Jack is having a tough time right now. You might have seen the commercial he did for the New York Knicks. If not you can see it here.
He's pretty convincing. The Knicks do sound "formidable" when he talks about them. And his rip on the Celtics is straight up "courtside jabber" from the asphalt courts of Harlem or the Bronx. "You know what formidable means, BITCH?" the kid yells as he does a 360 jam in the other guy's face.
It's all good, except for one problem. The Knicks may be the worst team in modern NBA history. They just lost to the Celtics by 50 points, which is something that rarely happens even in junior high basketball. So...the Celtics fans who don't know what "Formidable" means probably think it's synonymous with "sucks shit".
Not surprisingly, the barbaric Celtic fans have jumped all over my boy and mocked him...to the tune of 10,000 hits on youtube and counting.
Let's get real here. He did a commercial. He read the lines. Ok. Guilty as charged. But what these Boston Troglodytes don't know is the real story.
And if they did, they might be inclined to take it a little more easy on the guy.
On May 10, 1973, The same day that the Knicks won their last championship, Jack was born in a Brooklyn hospital. His parents, Irish immigrants, were forced to give him up for adoption because he wouldn't fit in their one bedroom flat; they already had 17 other children. A troubled kid, sent from orphanage to foster homes and back to the orphanage, little Jack never could seem to find a home of his own.
Then one day in 1980, he and his fellow orphans got tickets to go see the New York Knicks play the Boston Celtics at Madison Square Garden. Michael Ray Richardson lit up the Celtics for 33 points and Bill Cartwright had 17 boards and the Knicks won by 7. Jack had never seen anything so incredible in his life. The colors, the crowd, the hot dogs and the music...he was enchanted. He knew then he had finally found a home.
So when they boarded the bus for Staten Island after the game, no one noticed that there was one orphan missing. As they pulled out onto 7th Avenue, Jack was already deep in the bowels of Madison Sqaure Garden. And there he lived.
Jack watched every Knicks game, every Rangers game, the Ice Capades, concerts...he ate hot dogs and pretzels and drank sodas...he learned to read and write by reading programs and the scoresheets. He knew every inch and cranny of the Garden and got to know all of the people who worked there: the ticket takers, the ushers, the guy who waxed the floor, the beer and soda vendors. Jack was like their own little kid, their mascot almost. But still none of them knew he actually lived there. Until one day.
He had been living in the Garden almost three years when one day Jack woke up in his usual spot, the luxury box at midcourt. He rolled up his blanket and collected his things. He waited until he heard the janitor move down the hall and he scrambled out of the box and jumped down to the seats just below. As he walked to the aisle he realized someone was watching him. It was Carl Jackson. The Organ player. He was sitting way up in his organ box, looking down at Jack. Jack ducked behind the seats but then heard the Organ's blast: Duh-duh-duh-DUH-DUH-DUH! The bugle line for "Charge!". On the last note, unable to stop himself, Jack stood upright and yelled "CHARGE!". He looked at Carl, who motioned him to come up to the box.
Carl got the truth out of little Jack; that he had been living in the Garden for three years, that he had no other home. So Carl took him home to live with him. Carl was a widower who never had children and he raised Jack as his son. He sent him to school and took care of him when he was sick and played with him on the weekends and summers. They went to every Knicks games together.
Carl was a good guy, but still, he wasn't Jack's flesh and blood. Jack would ask Carl about his parents and why they abandoned him. To make him feel better, Carl told Jack that they were sold into slavery by the Evil Red Auerbach, the President of the Celtics. They would be bound as slaves to Red until the day that the Knicks won a championship again. Then they could come home and they would live with Jack happily ever after. (It should be noted at this point that Carl, while a nice fellow, was also a schizophrenic.)
So Jack watched year after year, and waited for the Knicks to win a championship. He grew up, went to college, and became a successful musician but the Knicks never won their championship.
Poor Jack waited and watched and rooted for years...and then this season, just before the sexual harassment trial ended, old Carl Jackson died. They had long since replaced him with blaring rock music and a recorded organ and the Knicks didn't have any use for him anymore. Jack, who has since realized that his parents weren't slaves (Auerbach died last year and when his parents didn't show up after that, he put it together) went into a funk...now he was alone again. All he had were his Knicks.
So when the Knicks came knocking and asked him to do a commercial, he thought of Carl. He thought of his days living in the Garden. And he thought of his parents, enslaved by the evil Lord of the Celtics....so he made them big in his mind, legendary, unbeatable...FORMIDABLE....
Yes, he's crazy. Yes, he probably should be locked up. But it is that hope, that passion, that once in a lifetime chance mentality that makes us all fans of sport, fans of life...and fans of Jack.
You go Jack. Dream on. You are formidable! No matter what the New England yokels say.
And by the way, fuck the Patriots.
He's pretty convincing. The Knicks do sound "formidable" when he talks about them. And his rip on the Celtics is straight up "courtside jabber" from the asphalt courts of Harlem or the Bronx. "You know what formidable means, BITCH?" the kid yells as he does a 360 jam in the other guy's face.
It's all good, except for one problem. The Knicks may be the worst team in modern NBA history. They just lost to the Celtics by 50 points, which is something that rarely happens even in junior high basketball. So...the Celtics fans who don't know what "Formidable" means probably think it's synonymous with "sucks shit".
Not surprisingly, the barbaric Celtic fans have jumped all over my boy and mocked him...to the tune of 10,000 hits on youtube and counting.
Let's get real here. He did a commercial. He read the lines. Ok. Guilty as charged. But what these Boston Troglodytes don't know is the real story.
And if they did, they might be inclined to take it a little more easy on the guy.
On May 10, 1973, The same day that the Knicks won their last championship, Jack was born in a Brooklyn hospital. His parents, Irish immigrants, were forced to give him up for adoption because he wouldn't fit in their one bedroom flat; they already had 17 other children. A troubled kid, sent from orphanage to foster homes and back to the orphanage, little Jack never could seem to find a home of his own.
Then one day in 1980, he and his fellow orphans got tickets to go see the New York Knicks play the Boston Celtics at Madison Square Garden. Michael Ray Richardson lit up the Celtics for 33 points and Bill Cartwright had 17 boards and the Knicks won by 7. Jack had never seen anything so incredible in his life. The colors, the crowd, the hot dogs and the music...he was enchanted. He knew then he had finally found a home.
So when they boarded the bus for Staten Island after the game, no one noticed that there was one orphan missing. As they pulled out onto 7th Avenue, Jack was already deep in the bowels of Madison Sqaure Garden. And there he lived.
Jack watched every Knicks game, every Rangers game, the Ice Capades, concerts...he ate hot dogs and pretzels and drank sodas...he learned to read and write by reading programs and the scoresheets. He knew every inch and cranny of the Garden and got to know all of the people who worked there: the ticket takers, the ushers, the guy who waxed the floor, the beer and soda vendors. Jack was like their own little kid, their mascot almost. But still none of them knew he actually lived there. Until one day.
He had been living in the Garden almost three years when one day Jack woke up in his usual spot, the luxury box at midcourt. He rolled up his blanket and collected his things. He waited until he heard the janitor move down the hall and he scrambled out of the box and jumped down to the seats just below. As he walked to the aisle he realized someone was watching him. It was Carl Jackson. The Organ player. He was sitting way up in his organ box, looking down at Jack. Jack ducked behind the seats but then heard the Organ's blast: Duh-duh-duh-DUH-DUH-DUH! The bugle line for "Charge!". On the last note, unable to stop himself, Jack stood upright and yelled "CHARGE!". He looked at Carl, who motioned him to come up to the box.
Carl got the truth out of little Jack; that he had been living in the Garden for three years, that he had no other home. So Carl took him home to live with him. Carl was a widower who never had children and he raised Jack as his son. He sent him to school and took care of him when he was sick and played with him on the weekends and summers. They went to every Knicks games together.
Carl was a good guy, but still, he wasn't Jack's flesh and blood. Jack would ask Carl about his parents and why they abandoned him. To make him feel better, Carl told Jack that they were sold into slavery by the Evil Red Auerbach, the President of the Celtics. They would be bound as slaves to Red until the day that the Knicks won a championship again. Then they could come home and they would live with Jack happily ever after. (It should be noted at this point that Carl, while a nice fellow, was also a schizophrenic.)
So Jack watched year after year, and waited for the Knicks to win a championship. He grew up, went to college, and became a successful musician but the Knicks never won their championship.
Poor Jack waited and watched and rooted for years...and then this season, just before the sexual harassment trial ended, old Carl Jackson died. They had long since replaced him with blaring rock music and a recorded organ and the Knicks didn't have any use for him anymore. Jack, who has since realized that his parents weren't slaves (Auerbach died last year and when his parents didn't show up after that, he put it together) went into a funk...now he was alone again. All he had were his Knicks.
So when the Knicks came knocking and asked him to do a commercial, he thought of Carl. He thought of his days living in the Garden. And he thought of his parents, enslaved by the evil Lord of the Celtics....so he made them big in his mind, legendary, unbeatable...FORMIDABLE....
Yes, he's crazy. Yes, he probably should be locked up. But it is that hope, that passion, that once in a lifetime chance mentality that makes us all fans of sport, fans of life...and fans of Jack.
You go Jack. Dream on. You are formidable! No matter what the New England yokels say.
And by the way, fuck the Patriots.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Rock Star Blather
"We will teach our twisted speech to the young believers." - The Clash
Gore talks until he's green. Bono ponies up about third world debt. Bruce Springsteen sings war protest songs. Ted Nugent stumps for gun owner's rights. Rosie O Donnell complains about undercooked chicken or whatever the hell she complains about.
Leads to a good question from a comment to my last post. I paraphrase, but something along the lines of: "Should rock stars and celebrities use their fame to promote causes they feel are important, or should they just shut the hell up?"
Musicians have long been a part of protest culture. And I'm not just talking about the sixties. Many folk songs were written by populist rebel types as a way to get the word out on beefs against the people in power. Many old songs were "masked", allegories that told stories that were essentially political protest songs. Mostly about the rich man keeping the poor man/black man/certain type of religious man down. So music itself has always been a statement. Of course the statement may be stupid...
And so can Rock Stars and celebrities. But we all have opinions. What's wrong with the A listers airing their opionions, too? God knows my opinions are pretty fucking useless, but I'm spewing them here. So why not them?
Well, for one thing, their opinions are going to be heard by millions of people (whereas my blog reaches tens of people), so they better choose them carefully. When I was 22, I was of the strong (and I thought well reasoned) opinion that anyone who didn't get rip roaring drunk and stoned every night was a tool. Now if I was a rock star and said that, say in an interview with on E!, I'd be beaten by a bunch of justifiably worried parents. (Wait, they do say that...and when the parents come to beat them, the dads get crushed by security and the moms end up boning the rock star.)
The company line from the celebs and their backers is that with all this exposure, they can bring attention to certain opinions or issues that the mainstream media or our society as a whole would rather avoid.
But the flipside of the "educating the masses" concept is that many of these celebrities are so annoying that seeing them talking about anything is enough to drive someone to the opposite camp. When Alec Baldwin said he was going to move out of the country if Bush got elected I was like, "please do." And I'm no fan of Bush. (Well at least not the President).
These celebs need to think (and be honest) about the purpose of their statements. Is it really to effect change, or is it to draw even more attention to themselves? Because they need to know that there's a good chance that just by speaking on an issue they'll piss enough people off to vote against that issue. So they're actually acheiving the opposite result.
I agree that it depends on the issue, the celebrity and the manner of the delivery. Hey, if someone is asked a question in an interview about their opinion, then what's wrong with answering? But making speeches and backing candidates, then they need to be careful about their own credibility and whether they're helping or hurting their own cause.
A line here or there, a throwaway joke in a concert about sticking it to the man, is fun and all part of music. Once they start on a big speech though, they lose me. They may have the right to have an opinion, but I could care less about theirs. Unless it's funny. Or really stupid. Then I'm into it.
So the ultimate answer to the question is yes, they should shut up. But they also should stop doing seventeen year old girls and they should stop ingesting copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. But that's not happening. Like they're going to listen to you? No. So you're gonna be forced to listen to them. Have another beer.
Have to carry the Patriots/Ecuador blog for one more week.
Mick Underground. Delivering you pointless drivel since 2007.
Gore talks until he's green. Bono ponies up about third world debt. Bruce Springsteen sings war protest songs. Ted Nugent stumps for gun owner's rights. Rosie O Donnell complains about undercooked chicken or whatever the hell she complains about.
Leads to a good question from a comment to my last post. I paraphrase, but something along the lines of: "Should rock stars and celebrities use their fame to promote causes they feel are important, or should they just shut the hell up?"
Musicians have long been a part of protest culture. And I'm not just talking about the sixties. Many folk songs were written by populist rebel types as a way to get the word out on beefs against the people in power. Many old songs were "masked", allegories that told stories that were essentially political protest songs. Mostly about the rich man keeping the poor man/black man/certain type of religious man down. So music itself has always been a statement. Of course the statement may be stupid...
And so can Rock Stars and celebrities. But we all have opinions. What's wrong with the A listers airing their opionions, too? God knows my opinions are pretty fucking useless, but I'm spewing them here. So why not them?
Well, for one thing, their opinions are going to be heard by millions of people (whereas my blog reaches tens of people), so they better choose them carefully. When I was 22, I was of the strong (and I thought well reasoned) opinion that anyone who didn't get rip roaring drunk and stoned every night was a tool. Now if I was a rock star and said that, say in an interview with on E!, I'd be beaten by a bunch of justifiably worried parents. (Wait, they do say that...and when the parents come to beat them, the dads get crushed by security and the moms end up boning the rock star.)
The company line from the celebs and their backers is that with all this exposure, they can bring attention to certain opinions or issues that the mainstream media or our society as a whole would rather avoid.
But the flipside of the "educating the masses" concept is that many of these celebrities are so annoying that seeing them talking about anything is enough to drive someone to the opposite camp. When Alec Baldwin said he was going to move out of the country if Bush got elected I was like, "please do." And I'm no fan of Bush. (Well at least not the President).
These celebs need to think (and be honest) about the purpose of their statements. Is it really to effect change, or is it to draw even more attention to themselves? Because they need to know that there's a good chance that just by speaking on an issue they'll piss enough people off to vote against that issue. So they're actually acheiving the opposite result.
I agree that it depends on the issue, the celebrity and the manner of the delivery. Hey, if someone is asked a question in an interview about their opinion, then what's wrong with answering? But making speeches and backing candidates, then they need to be careful about their own credibility and whether they're helping or hurting their own cause.
A line here or there, a throwaway joke in a concert about sticking it to the man, is fun and all part of music. Once they start on a big speech though, they lose me. They may have the right to have an opinion, but I could care less about theirs. Unless it's funny. Or really stupid. Then I'm into it.
So the ultimate answer to the question is yes, they should shut up. But they also should stop doing seventeen year old girls and they should stop ingesting copious amounts of drugs and alcohol. But that's not happening. Like they're going to listen to you? No. So you're gonna be forced to listen to them. Have another beer.
Have to carry the Patriots/Ecuador blog for one more week.
Mick Underground. Delivering you pointless drivel since 2007.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Musipontification
I know I'm supposed to write about Ecuador and the Patriots, but that will have to wait until next time. I was checking out Uncensoredinterview.com tonight and watching these indie rockers wax philisophic about politics and love and roofies and shit. Hilarious stuff.
As I was watching them pontificate, I thought, what is it that makes musicians so....I dont know. Full of it? Assured, while at the same time being simply ridiculous? Stylishing confident but at the same time kind of lost?
Maybe it's because when they get on stage people almost worship them, move when they tell them to move, do what they tell them to do. So they become a little pedantic. Maybe it's because they're artists, and artists by definition express themselves. So when they talk, their artistic side comes out unedited. Maybe it's because they're completely baked. Either way, it makes for some very funny stuff.
As I was watching them pontificate, I thought, what is it that makes musicians so....I dont know. Full of it? Assured, while at the same time being simply ridiculous? Stylishing confident but at the same time kind of lost?
Maybe it's because when they get on stage people almost worship them, move when they tell them to move, do what they tell them to do. So they become a little pedantic. Maybe it's because they're artists, and artists by definition express themselves. So when they talk, their artistic side comes out unedited. Maybe it's because they're completely baked. Either way, it makes for some very funny stuff.
Different musicians are different; I get that. Put a cello player, a rapper and a vegan folk singer in a room and ask them a question and you'll get three different answers. You'll also get someboyd's ass kicked. And don't automatically think it's the Cello player, because they can be totally hardcore. And vegans are frankly dangerous, so I wouldn't bet against them either. But whatever happens you know you'll get some real opinions, a performance with each answer. And it will be a crapshoot as to whether you get something totally inspired or easily mockable. Either way though, it will be entertaining.
Watching those interviews reminds me that there is more to the indie music scene than just downloading songs and going to shows at HP Dog House or the Rainbucket. That these are weird artists who have strange and strong opinions and don't give a damn what anyone thinks. Which is pretty cool. Unless their opinions are really stupid. Which they usually are.
Uncensored reminds me of some of my favorite musician's quotes:
"The thing I remember most about America is that it's silly. That can be quite a relief at times."- Thom Yorke
"Dogs smoke in France."- Ozzy
"We're bigger than Jesus." -John Lennon.
“Don't do drugs, don't have unprotected sex, don't be violent... leave that to me”- Eminem
"I tried to give up drugs by drinking." - Lou Reed
"I don't know anything about music. In my line, you don't have to." - Elvis Pressley
Back to more serious topics in the next blog. Like why Styx should be the national band of Ecuador and why Jessica Simpson will be the next Meryl Streep.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
The Non Ugly Factor
Lately I've been cranking Kings Of Leon on my way home from work. Reminds me of high school for some reason. Or more accurately, makes me wish I went to high school. But there' s nothing wrong with a little rock n' roll on the way home. It's almost like taking a shower or having a cold beer at the end of a long day, it revives the tired soul.
I have been thinking about the fact that you pretty much have to be good looking to get a record contract now, or at least to be promoted in the pop world. No wonder pop music sucks- ugly people make way better music than good looking people, yet the only thing you ever see in a pop music video is some model pretending to sing while another model gives him or her oral sex in the back of a large industrial freezer.
What people don't remember is that pop music, which has sucked for a long time, wasn't always this bad. Why? Because they let ugly people in on the deal. Think about the 60s and 70s- the most popular music was played by some weird looking dudes- the Beatles were certainly no models, the Stones and Led Zeppelin look like really ugly women dressed as really ugly men. For Christ's sake, Peter Frampton was a sex god. Rick Ocasek? The guy's like some kind of experiment.
They still got tons of chicks (because they're rock stars) but it would be a lot harder for them now. If Arethra Franklin was a young performer today, she'd get voted off of American Idol in like the fifth week. Bob Dylan would be beaten by a angry mob of Banana Republic wearing, purposefully-messed-up $200 hair cut Blackberrying "boyzz".
It's like you're actually immoral if you're ugly now. And although some freaks are playing good music, and you can find it if you look for it, the big boys aren't marketing it to the masses. Because these good looking dancers and models have no idea how to write music or even sing it (I don't care how "good" their voices are, singing isn't about hitting notes, it's about style), pop music blows worse than ever. It also blows because they're running out of things to write in this genre- three chords can only take you so far. But that's a story for another day.
For now, let's demand a return of the ugly rock star- maybe make Iggy Pop the mascot. On second thought, I can't stand the idea of looking at his ugly ass, so I'll just put on the CD and think about the chicks he gets. Anyway, stop worrying about what you look like and start worrying about what you're listening to. And crank some Kings of Leon on the way home.
Next Up: Why the Patriots are not the best team ever and why Ecuador is a hilarious country.
I have been thinking about the fact that you pretty much have to be good looking to get a record contract now, or at least to be promoted in the pop world. No wonder pop music sucks- ugly people make way better music than good looking people, yet the only thing you ever see in a pop music video is some model pretending to sing while another model gives him or her oral sex in the back of a large industrial freezer.
What people don't remember is that pop music, which has sucked for a long time, wasn't always this bad. Why? Because they let ugly people in on the deal. Think about the 60s and 70s- the most popular music was played by some weird looking dudes- the Beatles were certainly no models, the Stones and Led Zeppelin look like really ugly women dressed as really ugly men. For Christ's sake, Peter Frampton was a sex god. Rick Ocasek? The guy's like some kind of experiment.
They still got tons of chicks (because they're rock stars) but it would be a lot harder for them now. If Arethra Franklin was a young performer today, she'd get voted off of American Idol in like the fifth week. Bob Dylan would be beaten by a angry mob of Banana Republic wearing, purposefully-messed-up $200 hair cut Blackberrying "boyzz".
It's like you're actually immoral if you're ugly now. And although some freaks are playing good music, and you can find it if you look for it, the big boys aren't marketing it to the masses. Because these good looking dancers and models have no idea how to write music or even sing it (I don't care how "good" their voices are, singing isn't about hitting notes, it's about style), pop music blows worse than ever. It also blows because they're running out of things to write in this genre- three chords can only take you so far. But that's a story for another day.
For now, let's demand a return of the ugly rock star- maybe make Iggy Pop the mascot. On second thought, I can't stand the idea of looking at his ugly ass, so I'll just put on the CD and think about the chicks he gets. Anyway, stop worrying about what you look like and start worrying about what you're listening to. And crank some Kings of Leon on the way home.
Next Up: Why the Patriots are not the best team ever and why Ecuador is a hilarious country.
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
Done Devolving
Someone suggested I write about Devo. I'd rather write about the Hold Steady or the National, but I don't know a goddamn thing about them other than I like some of their music. But frankly I think enough has been written about Devo. And god knows you can hear "Whip It" on twenty different commercials. Not that I have any problem with them, in fact I think they're one of the most influential and brilliant American bands, but enough bullshit has been slung.
Ok, I'll sling just a little more. Devo is like soccer, never will it catch on with the big crowds, but the hard cores will swear by it forever. I will say my first vision of them, on something called FMTV broadcast in suburban Denver circa 1980, was cataclysmic for me. And my last vision of them, playing in Central Park in the pouring rain, my brother and I singing along in our yellow rubber rainsuits purchased from KMart, was one of those things you'll never forget. I still get haunting flashbacks of the "Freedom of Choice" video when I'm drunk or eating certain types of shellfish. Yes, trust me: Devo stays with you, like a weird tattoo that you think is cool but you're embarrassed to show your relatives for some reason. Even though they're complete idiots.
I'm pretty sure Lou Reed likes Devo. My guess is his favorite tune is "The Day My Baby Gave Me A Surprise." Pure speculation.
I do think many of the current artists owe a lot to Devo and fans of new music should really go back and listen to Duty Now For the Future, Freedom of Choice, Q/A, etc. But I've preached enough about learning your roots. You either have the desire to know about music history or you don't. And nothing I say is going to matter.
So back to the future- somebody out there tell me about a band or performer that has the impact of Devo. Or Lou. Who's changing music? Who's doing things that will have an effect for 20, 30, 40 years?
It's getting colder. Darker. November. Winter is on the way. But there is a bright spot on the horizon: Chad Magma is playing the Arabian on Thursday. Rock and Roll. The light in the darkness.
Next post: New Music Kinda Sucks Because Ugly People Don't Have A Chance Anymore
Ok, I'll sling just a little more. Devo is like soccer, never will it catch on with the big crowds, but the hard cores will swear by it forever. I will say my first vision of them, on something called FMTV broadcast in suburban Denver circa 1980, was cataclysmic for me. And my last vision of them, playing in Central Park in the pouring rain, my brother and I singing along in our yellow rubber rainsuits purchased from KMart, was one of those things you'll never forget. I still get haunting flashbacks of the "Freedom of Choice" video when I'm drunk or eating certain types of shellfish. Yes, trust me: Devo stays with you, like a weird tattoo that you think is cool but you're embarrassed to show your relatives for some reason. Even though they're complete idiots.
I'm pretty sure Lou Reed likes Devo. My guess is his favorite tune is "The Day My Baby Gave Me A Surprise." Pure speculation.
I do think many of the current artists owe a lot to Devo and fans of new music should really go back and listen to Duty Now For the Future, Freedom of Choice, Q/A, etc. But I've preached enough about learning your roots. You either have the desire to know about music history or you don't. And nothing I say is going to matter.
So back to the future- somebody out there tell me about a band or performer that has the impact of Devo. Or Lou. Who's changing music? Who's doing things that will have an effect for 20, 30, 40 years?
It's getting colder. Darker. November. Winter is on the way. But there is a bright spot on the horizon: Chad Magma is playing the Arabian on Thursday. Rock and Roll. The light in the darkness.
Next post: New Music Kinda Sucks Because Ugly People Don't Have A Chance Anymore
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Lou-less Youth
Greetings
You know it's not that I don't get it. I understand that there are all kinds of "movements" out there in the music scene. I know people want change and want to hear (and be) something different; they want to shout, "this is our generation, we are not like you idiots! We are newer, we are cooler and we are the future!" So the scene changes and slides and morphs, and music responds, constantly remolding itself, from rock and soul and pop to emo, screamo, bleemo, psychobilly, pyschopunk and psychotechno, from hip hop to rip hop, gangsta rap and diaper rap. . . I GET IT.
But there are some things that remain constant. Fixtures. Landmarks. Like Lou Reed. Back in the early and mid 60s, when the Beatles were Yeah-yeahing, and the Stones looked like Fischer Price figures and contraceptives were illegal, Lou Reed was writing songs about leather fetishes and shooting smack. He was the scene. It all started there. Yes, you can talk about Jazz and country and blues all colliding in the fifties to create rock, and the cool as hell (and mostly unheralded) artists who were part of that incredible transformation, but no one was more ahead of their time than Lou (possible exception: Kraftwerk, but we'll get into that later.) Lou didn't just add an electric guitar or scream a lyric instead of singing it with a backup group of harmonizers, he went completely beserk. Off the tracks. So far that it had to be on purpose, but unlike some of the obvious experimental stuff today, Lou's music held up because it was damn good even though it was totally freaky.
And he kept it up for years. He changed and kept everyone off balance in the 70s, producing some of the most original and memorable albums of that weird ass by-the-book musical decade (think "Boston I" versus "Berlin", or "Transformer" vs. "Rumours") then made three of the best albums of the 80s ("Blue Mask", "New Sensations" and "New York") and still kicked out some excellent/classic stuff in the 90s ("Set the Twilight Reeling.") And this was almost 30 years after "Sweet Jane" and "Sister Ray."
I don't know what the screamobilly crowd thinks of Lou. But I suggest you at least consider him and get to know a little of the past. He's the Godfather of the concert you're going to see next week- the band you're taking your friends to because they are so out there. Lou deserves your respect. So bow down, scenesters. And make a sacrifice to the alter of Loudom. Have a glass of whiskey and shoot some crank into your eyeball. Or if you don't want to go that far, just put on "Sweet Nothing" from "Loaded" and think about how good music makes you feel.
I can't wait to see where music goes in the future, but I have to give a nod to the past. To Lou Reed. What a freak.
You know it's not that I don't get it. I understand that there are all kinds of "movements" out there in the music scene. I know people want change and want to hear (and be) something different; they want to shout, "this is our generation, we are not like you idiots! We are newer, we are cooler and we are the future!" So the scene changes and slides and morphs, and music responds, constantly remolding itself, from rock and soul and pop to emo, screamo, bleemo, psychobilly, pyschopunk and psychotechno, from hip hop to rip hop, gangsta rap and diaper rap. . . I GET IT.
But there are some things that remain constant. Fixtures. Landmarks. Like Lou Reed. Back in the early and mid 60s, when the Beatles were Yeah-yeahing, and the Stones looked like Fischer Price figures and contraceptives were illegal, Lou Reed was writing songs about leather fetishes and shooting smack. He was the scene. It all started there. Yes, you can talk about Jazz and country and blues all colliding in the fifties to create rock, and the cool as hell (and mostly unheralded) artists who were part of that incredible transformation, but no one was more ahead of their time than Lou (possible exception: Kraftwerk, but we'll get into that later.) Lou didn't just add an electric guitar or scream a lyric instead of singing it with a backup group of harmonizers, he went completely beserk. Off the tracks. So far that it had to be on purpose, but unlike some of the obvious experimental stuff today, Lou's music held up because it was damn good even though it was totally freaky.
And he kept it up for years. He changed and kept everyone off balance in the 70s, producing some of the most original and memorable albums of that weird ass by-the-book musical decade (think "Boston I" versus "Berlin", or "Transformer" vs. "Rumours") then made three of the best albums of the 80s ("Blue Mask", "New Sensations" and "New York") and still kicked out some excellent/classic stuff in the 90s ("Set the Twilight Reeling.") And this was almost 30 years after "Sweet Jane" and "Sister Ray."
I don't know what the screamobilly crowd thinks of Lou. But I suggest you at least consider him and get to know a little of the past. He's the Godfather of the concert you're going to see next week- the band you're taking your friends to because they are so out there. Lou deserves your respect. So bow down, scenesters. And make a sacrifice to the alter of Loudom. Have a glass of whiskey and shoot some crank into your eyeball. Or if you don't want to go that far, just put on "Sweet Nothing" from "Loaded" and think about how good music makes you feel.
I can't wait to see where music goes in the future, but I have to give a nod to the past. To Lou Reed. What a freak.
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