Key She

I was honored to play keyboards on six songs with some of the coolest people on the planet Wednesday evening. When I have more time, I'll tell you who, and you'll probably have to Google em heheh, but it meant a lot to me.

My Musical Brain

“Hello darkness, my old friend, I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain, still remains
Within the sound of silence” Sounds of Silence - Simon and Garfunkel

One of my jobs back in NYC was at an advertising/PR firm that had the privilege of doing some work with Dr. Oliver Sacks. I was lucky enough to get to chit chat with him when he was on hold for my boss on a few occasions. The first time he called I was blown away as I had read his infamous book “The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat”, and had seen the movie “Awakenings” which is based on another one of his works and of course, his life.

I’m not sure if he’s considered a Neuro-Psychiatrist or a Neurologist and Psychiatrist separately, but I am sure he is an author and he does awesome documentaries. Super grooooovy dude and this week starting tonight on PBS, he’s on a Nova special called “My Musical Brain”. It’s “an investigative look into the extraordinary impact that music can have on the human brain”.

PBS is different everywhere, but if you are a Tampa person it’s on ours July 1 @ 2am, July 2nd at 5am, and July 5 @ 7pm. Set your DVRS! He’s always interesting.

SHE Says

"She says always through the nighttime.
Wasted drama with the nightlife.
And I will shake it up tonight just to make it right.
She says always all the time" She Says - VHS Or Beta

Every once in a while I run across a band name worth noting, and at this moment that would be Portland, Oregon’s “Hotter Than A Crotch”. Their Myspace (http://www.myspace.com/hotterthanacrotch) says “Campy Soul-Singer Punk for Awkward Horny People”, which sounds about right. They aren’t great or grating, but I give ‘em props for the moniker.

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I caught Friendly Fires on Carson Daly’s show doing “Skeleton Boy” live. WAY better than I expected them to be on stage. You know I LOVE this song (Sketelon Oy!) but now even more so that I’ve heard it emanate from the sweaty, rasping version of FF. The singer sounds great on recordings, but a tinge of Colin Blunstone (one of my favorite singers EVER - The Zombies you tard!) seeps through in his breathier live performance. Fucking golden.

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May 25th should be marked on your calendar for the new release by Phoenix, “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix”. A French Indie band that sings in English (yeay) so well, that I had no idea they weren’t when I played “Long Distance Call” to death on my IPOD a few years ago.

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While I was typing this, I could hear the neighborhood ice cream truck doing its rounds. It was playing “La Cucaracha” (Mexican Cockroach song). I fail to see how this would entice a person to want to place anything in their mouths that resides in that vehicle.

I Bought a Harp

I bought a HARP! No not that kind of harp, a Jaw Harp, or what’s more commonly known as a “Jew’s Harp”.

According to Jewish Law, I’ve been told I’m a Jew (my mom‘s mom‘s mom was Jewish and converted to hide her identity - the rest of her family stood their ground and got shot to death so I‘d be inclined to go all Jesus freak if my options were that lame) but I was raised Baptist and once I hit the teens, I put in my application for Agnosticism and was immediately welcomed into the freethinking fold. Luckily, you can play the Jew’s Harp regardless of your belief system, or lack thereof (thank gawd right?).

You probably associate the sound of this harp with frogs hopping on cartoons. I tried playing it on some of the stuff I‘m working on, but it doesn’t quite mesh. I had a good laugh all the same.

Oh yeah and I just found out I’m pregnant.

Happy first day of the fourth month of the year (April Fools - I’m so not carrying a demon in my pouch).

Skeleton Oy!

“Your love is out
But even despite it all
Give me your hand
Let's face this night and see it through” Skeleton Boy - Friendly Fires

I basically dig skeletal dudes that dance well, so the latest video by the trio “Friendly Fires” is definitely my favorite right now.

I was blasting them in my car months ago and just recently the clubs here have gotten wind of “Paris”, their first single, so I’m guessing by mid-June “Skeleton Boy” may get a turn.

FF’s songs aren’t insanely awesome, “groovy” is probably a better word as they consistently bang out these dancey light verses that are complimented by some heavy choruses that bite your soul up (don’t worry, it doesn’t itch). I don’t even like the verses that much, but the choruses knock me on my ass every time.

They’re touring with “White Lies” and “Soft Pack” as we speak, but of course, not where I live (assorted expletives).

If I happen upon a ticket for one of the US dates, I may fly out, I need a break from this place SOON!

Perceiving Glasvegas

"I need to make sure you know that's just the prescription talking" Geraldine - Glasvegas

I just learned of the Glasgow based band "Glasvegas" when I saw them on TV recently.

Upon first listen of their song "Geraldine", my ears immediately stood up and applauded for like an hour. Yeah, they wrapped round the back of my head and stretched, so now I look like some white, Ubangi chick and I can't stop eating peanuts (good thing I have long hair).

The awesome thing about falling in love with songs is that you can do it frequently and never feel like you've let an earlier song down. You can love many at once and no one thinks you're a whore. You can love so hard that you lose your forehead, and nobody gets freaked out. There's never a break up; you just may kind of lose touch for a while. Not only are you allowed, but you're even expected to get back together for a quickie whenever you want - fucking bliss, that is.

I love this song.

I love it so much, I want to introduce it to my friends and protect it from people I'm related to.

I love it so much I would fly my plaid covered ass to New York next week to see the band play it live, but the Bowery is sold out and my connections there are all but severed (oops).

I'm a longtime fan of bands from Scotland (The Jesus and Mary Chain, Teenage Fanclub, Franz Ferdinand) mostly because they know how to keep things simple so that the melody stands out in a much more soul-ripping way. Simple, but not boring. Rich Costey (Muse, Interpol, Franz Ferdinand) did the production and I just want to lick his subtleties repeatedly.

Love is blind but it ain't deaf (lust is deaf but it has 20/20 vision).

Too bad songs are easier to love than people.


Currently listening :
Glasvegas
By Glasvegas
Release date: 2008-10-07

NT and the Beat........(les)

"Nothing you can know that isn't known. Nothing you can see that isn't shown. Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be. It's easy." All You Need Is Love - The Beatles

There really isn't anything I can say about The Beatles that hasn't been said, so pardon any regurgitation of ideas or feelings that have been probably more eloquently discussed by previous admirers.

They're my favorite band of all time, no question. The first song I memorized all the way through wasn't the "ABC's", it was "I Want to Hold Your Hand" (to this day my favorite thing to do is holding hands and be held by them, so blame the Fab Four for my handsiness).

Aside from their brilliance in musicianship, their humor was captivating. They brought my beloved sarcasm to the fore like no other preceding them, but knew that subtlety was the charm of charms. When you back that with a guitar, I am sold (no returns once you remove the tags, and no I won't tell you where those are).

They were four very strong individuals that were similarly unique (oxymoron alert), but without one, they weren't The Beatles. Each was irreplaceable.

I'm trying to pre-edit myself as I write this because the way I feel about this band could easily turn into a book. I've avoided them as a complete blog subject because in my mind, they're just too big.

It's the anniversaries of John and George's deaths (George's just over a week ago) but I don't want to go into the loss thing. They did nothing but ADD to existence as we know it, and I guess I just want to remind your senses of this fact.

I've decided to include a video of "Rain", a lesser known song (if there is such a thing), but definitely a fave. One of my old flames told me that he always thinks of me when he hears it because I played it for him on the beach some night a few lifetimes ago. To be forever associated with that song to someone just makes it even more meaningful to me. =)

Yeah Yes Yep

I found the next song that I want on in the background (or foreground, I'm not picky) the next time I knock boots (if there ever is a next time, yeesh).

Autolux's "Turnstile Blues".

I first heard it last week when I started to watch "The Air I Breathe", a film that has exquisite cinematography in places, but I feel overall that it tried too hard, if that makes any sense.

There is some quote at the beginning that I've already forgotten, and then "Turnstile Blues" kicks in with almost machine-like precision, laying down the groundwork for HELLZ YEAH (sad when the score outshines the flick, but I'll take what I can get). Oh the protruding cartilage on the sides of my head got all tingly and hopeful. They were not disappointed as the song delivered with a nice laid back approach. The band didn't reach too far, but they caught the edge with finesse and ease down to the last note.

Autolux is from Los Angeles, and I had never heard of them. They have a sort of Apples in Stereo meets My Bloody Valentine sound, so I'm shocked at myself for not having discovered them outside of a soundtrack setting previous to now. I'll beat myself mercilessly with a bag of spiders when I'm done here, I swear.

"Turnstile Blues" is not a pop song. I adore pop songs (go look at my Myspace playlist - oops I went private, ok I'll put a playlist at the bottom of my blog), but I like a good, unconventional wad of noise every now and again. This particular piece sounds kind of like the band Pinback reworked the song "Cannonball" by The Breeders whilst double dosing on LSD.

I don't love, but I likes a lot.

Thylvester Morrithon

I just read a piece about doors (thanks Stevie Ray), and it took me back to a time when I used to imbibe in psychedelics (yes I took enough hits to be considered clinically insane, do with that what you will).

Aldous Huxley is the author of the quote I used in my headline on my Myspace profile. He wrote "The Doors of Perception", which is in fact, where the band "The Doors" got their moniker.

My favorite thing to do in my late teens and early 20's was trip and listen to music, and I recall on one trip listening to the song "The End" by "The Doors" and laughing to the point of possibly needing medical attention.

I imagined Sylvester the cat singing it all donned in leather pants, shirtless with love beads, and that cute little speech impediment.

"Thith ith the end. Beautiful friend."

"Ride the thnake, ride the thnake
To the lake, the ancient lake, baby"

The clincher was near the actual END of "The End" when he does that spiel about the parents, and I think Morrison was arrested whilst saying this onstage in Miami once (and exposing himself), but imagining Sylvester the cat doing it nearly killed me.

"FaTHer, yeth thon, I want to kill you
MoTHer...I want to...fuck you!"


Currently listening :
The Best of the Doors
By The Doors
Release date: 2006-08-08

Turn A Kit 8/24/08

"One time a thing occurred to me.
What's real, and what's for sale?
Blew a kiss and tried to take it home." Vasoline – Stone Temple Pilots

I rarely change my mind about a band, but Stone Temple Pilots are (was?) a band I completely misjudged upon first listen. I just wrote them off as a secondary spewing in a long line of Pearl Jam spinoffs, but I knew someone that was opening for them and caught them live about five thousand years ago (feels like). Total 180. They didn't just change my mind, they sanded it down, refurbished it, and gave it a new coat of varnish (they used a nice matte teak color – it just goes with everything now!).

The reunion tour had me salivating since I first got word, but I figured I would do what I did for Radiohead and swoop in for some last minute tickets at "desperate to at least break even" prices offered up by those whose scalping abilities are not up to snuff. I had been eyeballing my usual sources, but nothing stood out till the day of the actual show.

I got a line on really great orchestra seats for $30 each ($65 originally) that I was nibbling on but the person I wanted to go with couldn't go and the option was only for a pair.

I had been up all night dancing and the usual host of volunteer work that I do for underprivileged, half faced, diseased people that get raped and pillaged on top of the land mines that they built their huts on (what can I say? I'm a giver), but my weary, tired ass was going to find a way to see the DeLeo brothers pay the piper. (They clearly got back together for cash. I wonder what the going rate is for enduring the behavior of heroin soaked, loose cannons these days – oh yeah, $65 a head.)

My fogged brain then ran across an ad claiming to have awesome tickets, but that a friend backed out and whoever sent the most innovative email would be invited along for the fun.

You know my crazy, adventurous ass couldn't resist such a morsel this tasty, so I replied to it for a laugh. I was just messing around and even offered cash for the ticket if they couldn't find anyone else. I didn't expect to hear back at all, and thought the entire thing was just a joke anyways.

Well, I did hear back, and it had been sort of a joke, but there really was a ticket and we exchanged Myspaces and whatnot and I was invited along! Yep, I was going to meet up with total strangers and go to a concert with them in the pouring fucking rain. Weird, but I like to mix it up.

Driving there they sent a text informing me that we had PIT tickets – AWESOME! We met up to tailgate with drinks and hit it off in the rain and mud. We're all originally from Michigan, so I felt right at home, and two of them are writers so that was groovy too.

Our foursome entered the Ford Amphitheatre to the sounds of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, the second opening band. I think I was one of 3 people that actually liked 'em. They're so influenced by the Jesus and Mary Chain (whom I love STILL) and they poached their drummer, Leah Shapiro, from the Raveonettes. She was amazing.

The PIT is general admission in front of the stage, and the guys appointed me "Head Weasel", a job that entails conning our way to the stage, or at least as close as possible. Being petite and forceful qualifies me for such a position as I can slip in between people virtually unnoticed. Plus in a crowd of mostly inebriated males whilst wearing a low cut shirt, a smile goes a long way.

We were nearly front and center within minutes, but so were some other people that somehow lacked the wherewithal to apply anti-perspirant. I barely clear 5'2, which puts my nose about pit level to most men, so in a sweaty mass of this size, I totally had my PEW face on. Lots of stinky pits in the PIT.

After Black Rebel Motorcycle Club (that name is too fucking long, makes me think of when I used to smoke Benson and Hedges DELUXE Ultra Lights –that's when I knew I had to quit buying smokes, as just asking for that brand took up minutes that I'll never get back) left the stage, I figured I had about 20-25 minutes to get drinks and weasel my way back to the guys. I was wrong. I actually had about an hour and a half, unbeknownst to me or any other ticket holders.

The PIT started to get nasty. People had to pee, but didn't want to miss the first song. Fights were starting to break out, and I got clocked in the head by someone's poor attempt to throw a drink at the stage. As if my hair wasn't gross enough from the humidity, now it had the added ingredients of a cocktail and possibly someone's spit. I looked like a Hasidic Jewish guy, my hair was so curly, but my main concern was that an hour had gone by and STP were nowhere in sight.

I joked about throwing a tourniquet on stage to draw Weiland out in the event that he couldn't find a vein, and that was what was keeping him from wowing us, but humor was lost on this pissy crowd (understandably).

At about 10:15 it was announced that due to "inclement weather", STP was stuck in Ft. Lauderdale and the show was OFF.

Funny how their tour bus, their equipment, and their opening acts made it, but they didn't? The "weather" was north of us, and Ft. Lauderdale is south, WTF? I found out today that the venue knew at 9:15 what was up and didn't tell us for an hour, during which time they kept selling more bevies, but we got nothing. Well some got t-shirts at $50 a pop; such a wimpy consolation when you'd prefer to have gone temporarily deaf to a live performance of "Interstate Love Song".

There is no news of rescheduling as of yet, and with my luck, the band will break up again the day of any such occurrence. But hey, I have a free PIT ticket, a semi –interesting story to tell, and some new friends out of the deal. =)


Currently listening :
Purple
By Stone Temple Pilots
Release date: 1994-06-07

Stalling August 15, 2008

I only had two drinks last night, and about half way through the second one, a wave of YUCK overcame me.

My slight frame only amounts to 92 pounds these days and I'm a hypoglycemic that has to eat constantly, which is dreadfully boring. I ate before I left, but not enough, I guess.

After releasing a portion of what I drank into the unfortunate pipes that delve below the Castle, I just stayed in the stall, leaning against the door feeling that foggy urge to pass out. My head pulled down as my eyes fluttered in defiance, but the thought of sleeping right there, where I stood, felt like velvet somehow.

Until I thought of how many other faces that may have squished upon this very door; possibly less hygienic faces, or even other malodorous body parts and…fluids.

I immediately jerked back to the far wall where I imagined a CSI person snapping on the old latex gloves and black lighting said wall, nodding as they said "Oh yeah this place is just coated in jizz. This particular sample is from a 27 year old Goth named Shane, but he goes by "Dark Dildon't" in his social circles. We can tell a lot more from the samples with today's technology. We're working on DNA GPS systems, and when that's up and running I'll be able to track someone from their spooge stains".

I thought of the fetish nights at the Castle, and how many riding crops get accidentally dropped into the toilet, and how painful that would be to be fishing it out whilst donned in a whalebone leather corset (they aren't known for their flexibility).

I don't know a lot about fetishism, I have many acquaintances that are into all that, but I've never peered behind that curtain. I really love that song by IAMX though, "Spit It Out". It's one of the few songs that I know of that isn't industrial, but does sort of touch on violent proclivities in the sexual wonderland.

I would be a disaster in that world, I mean, I think I'd look ok in the garb (Do they make leather hoods in extra extra small?), but I'm a wimpy goofball with a low threshold for pain and claustrophobic to boot. I could inflict it, I guess, given the right circumstances (ball kicking available upon request?).

I previously wrote something to this effect in a sarcastic series I posted elsewhere for one of my voyeur stalkers that I guess hates me (whatever, and yes I have no life) , but I tried to turn it around and make it humorous as if he didn't and that I'd do anything for him, including the following :

"If YOU wanted me to beat you raw, I would. If you want me to roll an egg down a dark hallway with my bare feet whilst singing the national anthem, I will. If you want me leather clad and chopping onions on your back with a strobe light on, it's done. If you want me to scream Russian obscenities at you while tenderizing your giblets with a flatiron, I'm so there. If you want me to dig the fingernails of my right hand (left hand has stumps – it's a guitar thing) into the base of your scintillating scepter, then I'm your girl. I can't promise that I wouldn't laugh the entire time, but I would do your bidding whenever, wherever."

I'm serious about the latter bit, the laughing. I wouldn't be able to straighten my face in any capacity, so unless there's cackling dominatrix's abound, I best stay on the side of the fence that doesn't require any "safe" words (the Kama Sutra can be just as interesting as a ball and gag, if things get tedious in that department).

The bathroom stall – the stories it might tell (or scream). Actually, they seem pretty clean, compared to most places (CBGB's facilities were unsuitable even by third world standards), but I have a wild imagination. It's a wonder I can even check out books from the libraries, as what possibly touches them before you mentally ingest their words, might drive you to drink.

Currently listening :
The Alternative
By IAMX
Release date: 2008-05-06

Train in Brain August 7, 2008

"It's 4:00 a.m. I've got the Dr. Hfuhruhurr Ale
I've got nothing to lose so I'm pissin' on the third rail
Groggy eyed and fried I'm headed for the station
D-Train ride Coney Island vacation" Stop That Train - The Beastie Boys

It's strange what memories remain at whim to our instant recall. I often wonder what sparks the mental rolodex and why it can hang on so clearly to a snowy walk home, but yet block out a life changing conversation someone swears you had with them.

The weird shit that I've seen in the New York subway constantly frolics through my grey matter, no matter how long I've been away. It pirouettes through my thoughts at the oddest of moments. Two instances in particular.

The Broadway/Lafayette station in Manhattan has three levels, and a million stairs. Once you depart the train and go up one set of stairs, there is a platform where you can cross over to another track or more stairs to continue up to even more stairs (it takes approximately 5 hours to exit to street level if you're even remotely out of shape).

My ears were encapsulated in Radiohead's "OK Computer", when I bounced up to the semi-deserted platform after my jaunt on the D train. I can't recall why I was there that day, but I definitely remember my peepers zoning in on this man who could easily pass for Pavorotti.

Seeing Pavorotti in the subway, alone would make an interesting tale, but I hardly think it was him. This man was dressed exactly in his likeness though, and even had the Italian trench coat draped expensively over his shoulders, accented with a silky white scarf that probably cost more than everything I had on my person (including electronic apparatuses).

What stopped me in my tracks was what he was doing. He was "skooching", for lack of a better term, sideways across the platform, the way someone would sidle along a ledge of a high rise building before making veiled threats to leap to their demise. He was also sweating like a Republican congressman caught bare-backing a pierced up 14 year old boy behind a McDonalds.

Ironically, "No Surprises" had just entered my ears as I slowly moved past this gigantic panic attack that I so couldn't look away from. He was attached to some earphones as well, and when he reached the center of the platform, he just started bawling as if someone had whispered through them that Toby Keith was penning an all country music opera in German, and that Lincoln Center locked down a 2 year commitment to running it (assuming he liked opera - the mix of that and country definitely brings the idea of cochlear torture to a new disturbing level, not to mention the German aspect).

For some reason I can't forget this, but the last name of the 3rd guy I ever slept with is lost to the ether. (Does that make me a HO? F'excellent.)

The other event that lurks in my back catalog is when I was waiting for the 1 or the 6 at 72nd in the Upper West Side. I was going to rehearsal and had my guitar slung over my shoulder as I paced for what seemed like eternity (that's about 15 NY minutes) waiting for the train.

I'm not usually into hippy looking guys, but there was this one in a tie dyed shirt scoping me out, and he was kind of delish. He had shaggy blonde hair; kind of suntanned as it was summer, and a scarf tied around his head. He looked a bit like a Deadhead pirate from California, but with a great face (and a nice ass, I must say).

He circled around me twice and then went behind whatever those giant pillars are that keep the tunnel above your head (as opposed to crushing it to bits).

I looked away and then back as I saw him peer out from behind the pillar. He smiled, opening wide to bare some fangs at me! Seriously, he had fucking vampire teeth! Not fake waxy shit either; he had the real surgically implanted (or veneers?) bite-bites!

Now a pale Goth doing this at two in the morning in the East Village would not have shocked me (it's almost a pre-requisite on St. Marks), but a tan hippy vampire dude at 72nd hissing about around 5pm? That completely flabbergasted me.

Some other guy interrupted my wide-eyedness to ask me what kind of guitar I had, so I quickly answered and then glanced back but un-deadhead was gone, and I never saw him again (thankfully).

If this kind of yip yap flutters through my brain's waking moments, you can only imagine what I dream about.

I just hope that whatever flashes before my eyes in the seconds before I draw my last breath has absolutely nothing to do with the New York Transit system.

Watch, I'll be killed on the subway now, simply because I wrote it. THAT would be hilarious.


Currently listening :
Paul's Boutique
By Beastie Boys
Release date: 1989-07-19

Wow or Never July 28, 2008

"Empty prayer, empty mouths, combien reaction
Empty prayer, empty mouths, talk about the passion
Not everyone can carry the weight of the world
Not everyone can carry the weight of the world" Talk About the Passion – REM

From Wikipedia:

Passion (from the Latin patior, meaning to suffer or to endure) is an emotion of feeling very strongly. Passion is an intense emotion compelling feeling, enthusiasm, or desire for anything and often requiring action. Passion often applies to lively or eager interest in or admiration for a proposal, cause, or activity or love.

Passion can be expressed as a feeling of unusual excitement, enthusiasm or compelling emotion towards a subject, idea, person, or object.

I've got passion on my mind lately; in the broader sense, and yes, in the sexual sense too.

You may take passion for granted, as I have done, when it's been just another part of who you are, but when it's missing, YIKES.

My passion for music surpasses any other that I could muster. From gated snares to the mere act of shaking my itty bitty badonkadonk (in some Asian countries I would be considered bootylicious, so we'll run with that) to the pulsating vibrations that start their seduction with a full audio massage.

Music is never boring; it's forever changing except in one pivotal area. It consistently provokes the full range of emotions like nothing else. For that reason alone, I remain faithful and duty bound in a way that I've not been able to do with anything or anyone.

I think what makes some music go beyond superior is the passion that is behind it. What you put out there is what you get back. If uncertainty is lingering in your work, you get uncertainty back. If balls to the walls are what you put in, well, you get pixel right?

At the Radiohead shows I've been party to witness, the exchange of passion between the audience and the band was the most exquisite "back and forth" imaginable. The more we were into it, the more they were too, which made us even MORE into it. Frankly, I'm shocked that we all didn't just burst into goo by the time they played "The Bends".

You can't fake passion. You can fake an orgasm (well some of us can), and you can feign interest in someone, but you cannot fake passion.You can't teach it either; it's either there or it's not.

Now sexually, you have to teach mechanics to some people, sometimes. In my early 20's I didn't have the patience for that. I thought if a guy didn't know what he was doing, then we just didn't have any chemistry, but in my later years, I've found that if you teach someone the ropes, they will tie them just how you like =)

Unfortunately, some people are mechanically set; they know where everything goes and don't do anything really wrong, but are indeed mechanical. You can teach them the entire Karma Sutra, but if they lack the enthusiasm, you'd be better off just playing Twister (there's less clean up afterwards).

Passion is all reciprocity. I can't get into it if someone is about as passionate for me as they would be a math exam. Now I'm not speaking of LOVE (whatever that is), as I can have passion with people that are everything I don't want in a friend, but do want to be friendly with. (Pheromones? It's not a crime.)

If I had to choose between the guy I was friends with that laid there like a sloth on ludes, or someone I barely know that would fiercely (not violently, but definitely SAFELY) shag me stupid, girlfriend is all about the stupid then. Given the choice, I would rather have one weekend with someone that reset my clock and crossed my eyes, than some stale ass relationship where the guy lacked more WOW than the "accepted terms of agreement" you never read when installing a new computer program.

WOW is a look in their eyes, like they'd absolutely lose their shit if their skin doesn't get to frolic all over yours. You can't summon it (especially if they're using you for something besides sex –money, connections, whatever), it's reactive. Some simply are devoid of WOW. I didn't even know people could be like that till, well… that's neither here nor there.

I realize that the novelty wears a bit thin and life happens, but I think we can possibly take our cue from music and learn to keep things at a level where you aren't just phoning it in after a while.

If we can keep songs forever entertaining and growing, maybe we can do that in every aspect of our lives.

Art is reflective of people that are reflective of art. Back and forth. Talk about the passion.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________

Yesterday, I had the grim task of making rounds with a funeral announcement for a lifelong friend who lost his battle with cancer this weekend. I don't remember not knowing Dennis, whose passion was his family and mountain bike racing. My association with him and his family made me a better person in ways they will never know.

Life is short.

If yours is lacking passion, it's time to get lit, man. Don't stay with people you can't get it up for. Don't lock yourself down out of obligation. Don't let rigidity or boredom consume you.

Bite life in the ass! If nothing else, you'll leave behind some interesting teeth marks.



Currently listening :
Murmur
By R.E.M.
Release date: 1992-08-06

Cherchez Pour L’Emo (Finding Emo) July 24, 2008

I started to write this blog on Bastille Day, but I got hungry and forgot about it. Most Americans could give a shit about Bastille Day (July 14), and I only think of it as a day to engorge oneself in French cuisine.

In NYC there is usually a small outdoor thing going on for Bastille Day. All the Francophiles head down to flex their linguistic muscles, and dolts like me make an appearance just long enough to buy my crepes and run.

Banana crepes with chocolate sauce could only be more awesome if spread across an emaciated, young, rocker boy's hairless chest, but even without the human platter, they rock the 'buds like nothing else.

I have a French surname, as well as French ancestors (duh). I speak, read, and write a decent amount of French, and my favorite food is also FRENCH. I've not been to France, but I've visited French speaking Canada (where my favorite "Scot" in the world lives. I know 6 different Scot/Scotts), and I cringe like a Republican at the threat of Universal Healthcare when I hear the language mispronounced. So yeah, that and the permanently snippy look on my face often gives away this segment of my heritage (we look pissy, but are very warm and friendly, apparently too much so).

I adore French directors (did my thesis on Truffaut for film class), and their products. "Amelie", "The Bride Wore Black", "Un Coeur en Hiver", "Belle De Jour", and "Delicatessen" (brilliantly insane) to name a few.

I thought of these things when I first abandoned this blog, but then weird French stuff kept appearing on my scope, if you will.

One thing was a dream that I was in Provence, where I've never been, and I've never even spoke of. In the dream, I was sporting a gigantic soft taco (not like that) that I had folded in half twice, under my left arm like a portfolio. (I really don't care to know if that means anything - REALLY!)

The following day when I checked my email, there was a Myspace friend request from a band called "Five June" from France. Guess what area? Provence! Freaked my ass out. I kind of dig 'em too; they have that Patti Smith-gets-even-dirtier vibe about them, so I accepted.

France isn't really known for its hot music scene. I mean, in the dance world HELLz yeah - "Daft Punk", "Yelle", "Les Rita Mitsouko", but to my recollection, there's never been a French "Beatles" type of group.

Lots of non-English speaking bands have the quirky thing ("Cibo Matto"), or the dance thing (again "Cibo Matto") but do these countries ever produce bands like "Coldplay," "U2", or "Radiohead"? Meaningful pop music, for lack of better terms.

Does Germany have bands like "Snow Patrol?" Does Italy have its own version of "Death Cab for Cutie"? Or do these countries only generate bands that dress in angry pig costumes, and robot dance to endless computer loops?

Are power chords and piccolo snares not as satisfying as accordions and tubas? Are there any Emo bands in India or China? Are these countries just satisfied with "spectator" status? What is it about the English world that facilitates the above mentioned bands, but is not inherent in the Ukraine?

"Five June" has a garage band sound, so at least that's a step in a different direction from what I have assumed of France. But you know what happens when you assume (oh did I really just type something that lame? Yep).

One band that I really like that sings in English is "Prime STH", who hail from Sweden, which also gave us "PB&J" ("Peter, Bjorn, & John"). Indie rock, but not BIG time pop bands.

If anyone knows of any more, by all means, send them along.

I'm all ears (if only, but then I couldn't type).


Currently listening :
Underneath the Surface
By Prime STH
Release date: 2001-07-10

The Squid and the Bail July 3, 2008

"It's king and queen and we must go down round behind the chandelier where I won't have to speak my mind and you won't have to hear. Shreds of news and afterthoughts and complicated scenes. We'll weather down behind the light and fade like magazines" Romeo's Tune - Steven Forbert

If you haven't seen "The Squid and the Whale" by now, by all means get your eyes on it, and then check out Noah Baumbach's next work "Margot at the Wedding".

I saw "The Squid and the Whale" just over a year ago, and it certainly raised a brow right off of my face (it collided with the ceiling fan - painful and ugly). Baumbach, the filmmaker, has an intellectual honesty about sexuality and dysfunctional families that you either salivate for, or detest. He has an exquisite indie style that I don't always get ("The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou" was complete shit, but he's only guilty of writing it, not directing), but he's nothing, if not impressionable.

Last night (well, 4 AM this morning), I viewed "Margot at the Wedding", his film from last year. It's not as good as "Squid", but there was some formidable dialogue, as well as some good tune-age. The characters weren't as developed as they could've been and a majority of the editing was a bit erratic, but I get the feeling this is a jumping off point to bigger and better.

It was a little hard to buy Jack Black as the serious guy, Malcolm, but I love the line that Kidman's character, Margot, uses in regards to him: "He's not ugly, but he is completely unattractive." (Yeah he's naked in this and my corneas aren't taking my calls anymore, despite promises of shirtless Jared Leto photos.)

I think judging by the cast, some would be sniffing too hard in what they think is the "chick flick" direction, but their sexist asses might be a tad surprised.

Baumbach is a native Brooklynite, and like his predecessor Woody Allen, he places women in very meaty roles instead of roles where they are merely "meat". Why do you think Allen got so much play in the '70's and '80's? He changed film for women. "Interiors", "Another Woman", and "Annie Hall" made that f'ugly little genius the most sought after lay on both coasts back in the day. (If you further our cause, we further yours - strange how that works ay? Don't treat us like were just a piece [even if we act like it] and you'll be showered in piece a' bounty.) I'm a die hard Allen fan (books and film) but this blog's going to stay in the confines of Baumbach's stuff.

"I don't listen to music anymore."

WHAT???????? The character Margot, who seems to be a combination of the two parents from "Squid", nonchalantly spews this as if she's talking about giving up skiing or something. In my book, the only way you don't listen to music anymore is if you're 100% deaf, or dead. And even then, I think I could conjure a way. WTF?

I've heard of people like this. They conform to the dictates of societal ageism and resign themselves to being couch plants that live through their children. That's a choice, and certainly not one I'm up for selecting. Life without music isn't a life. I don't know if I'll make it to like 60 or 70, but I still plan on shakin' my thing till it falls off, basically. I don't give a fuck how it looks. I'm here for my ears, not for those judgmental eyes placed so rigidly above pursed lips, and giant noses that can't mind their own.

I will NEVER bail on music.

Eh…Margot clearly had a stick up her ass, but this film does slip in some Blondie (2 songs!) and an obscure old fave of mine "Romeo's Tune" by Steven Forbert. The fact that that song is highlighted has endeared Baumbach to me forever.

"Margot at the Wedding" wasn't great, but again, if you dug "Squid", it's a must see. I don't think it's as fluid as say, "Mr. Jealousy" and "Kicking and Screaming" (also by Baumbach), but like "Squid", it's unpredictability is addictive.


Currently listening :
Eat to the Beat
By Blondie
Release date: 2001-09-11

That is Some Sikh Sh*t June 28, 2008

"Things are shaping up to be pretty odd
Little deaths in musical beds
So it seems I'm someone I've never met" That Green Gentleman - Panic at the Disco

Last night when I was on my way home, the exit I needed was closed and I got lost for a bit. I usually have an impressive sense of direction, and I wasn't drunk, but I got all turned around just from one glitch in the itinerary.

I didn't have to inquire of myself as to HOW I got where I was, as that was obvious. In this case, it was just a matter of resolution.

My mishap added another ½ hour to my ride, and I was thinking about some weird shit in my life and wondering the origins of said shit. How did it come to this?

Then I thought "Eh fuck that analytical nonsense! Thinking about that stuff is probably why I got lost in the first place!"

I really missed New York at that moment. I mean, I love driving, but I sort of missed being able to get pissed out of my gore and then carted home by either train or cab.

I REALLY missed being able to annoy the shit out of the Sikh cab drivers that totally hate women too. I got one to laugh once, which is a feat, since showing any facial expression at all is probably against their belief system. I'm normally quiet in the cab, but these people fascinate me, and the act of annoying sexist ass holes is a far more interesting hobby than scrap booking, wouldn't ya say?

Once I got into the cab and gave the destination, I started asking him questions like "Hey do you like The Clash?" - NO! (A Soup Nazi from Seinfeld kind of NO.)

"How about Pavement?" - NO!

"Kula Shaker? My Bloody Valentine? Echo and the Bunnymen?" - NO! NO! NO!

I'd go through a list of 20 or so bands, getting the same response every time; neither of us changing tone or inflection. It almost felt scripted, like a flat scene from a Jarmusch flick with a hint of Bugs Bunny.

I then leaned towards the malodorous front half of the cab and bellowed oh so obnoxiously, "CUNTTTTTTTTTTTT tree music! That's your thing isn't it? Five bucks says you have some ass-less chaps on under whatever that thingy is you're wearing! You're one of those line dancing fuckers aren't you? YOU are a TURBAN COWBOY!!"

Then I quickly sang this made up twang: "Turban Cowboy, I swear that was his name. He drives a cab in Brooklyn, goes line dancing when he can. He says he's got a woman who sings them country songs, and when he gets his green card he gonna move to a Honky Tonk! YeeeeeeHawwwwww!"

He absolutely lost his shit.

I couldn't have timed it better as my building was in sight. Still giggling, he refused my money and waved me out of the cab saying "You are a VERY crazy."

To which I replied, "Yes, I are."


Currently listening :
Coming To Terms
By Carolina Liar
Release date: 2008-05-20

Outsomnia June 25, 2008

"Up in my lonely room when I'm dreaming of you. Oh what can I do? I still need you, but I don't want you now." *

I can't f*ckin' sleep lately. Well, I can from like 7am-3pm, but I prefer the 4-noon shift. When I do sleep, the dreams are very annoying. It's bad enough that certain people have to taint your waking life, but when they chase you down into slumber land, oy, that blows.

My first night in New Mexico I dreamt of someone I so didn't want to, it's like my own subconscious despises me. Maybe I have an autoimmune brain, that might account for all the crazy (gotta blame something right?).

"When I'm down and my hands are tied, I cannot reach a pen for me to draw the line. From this pain I just can't disguise. It's gonna hurt but I'll have to say goodbye" *

I think it's harder to sleep when you don't like to be alone with your thoughts. Music, TV, books, and other people can be miraculous distractions from our worst enemy - ourselves.

"Up in my lonely room when I'm dreaming of you. Oh what can I do? I still need you, but I don't want you now." *

I can kill the lights and stranglehold my pillows, but the thoughts just keep ruminating, sticking a violent elbow into that divide between awake and out cold (or "out hot" for my reptilian readers - my fan base is about 20% lizards and 7% smiling gators).

Last night, the song quoted above (in addition to thoughts of barely legal, rocker boys) was bouncing around my grey matter for whatever reason, fueling my insomnia. The song's about 5 years old, but never loses its flavor with me. It blatantly rips off "My World is Empty without You" by the Supremes, but that doesn't piss me off for some reason. I have an exceptional ear for picking out who rips off what, but to my chagrin, it's not even a somewhat lucrative skill. Along with it, I also have some sort of Tourette's related problem causing me to tell people who they steal from, which is not always welcome information. It's bought me a few enemies, but some people surprisingly respect my awkward bullets of truth (my aim is rather low so it shouldn't hurt THAT bad).

"Two Ways Out" by Darker My Love rips off Supergrass' "Alright". My precious Radiohead has ripped off a few songs by The Hollies, Beethoven, and even something from the musical "Jesus Christ Superstar", (those thieving bastards!), but it's allowed. Monsieur McCartney certainly borrowed from Procol Harum when he wrote "Let it Be" (the chords in "Salad Days", which has the best line, "Your skin crawls up an octave"). The list of leeches could go on forever, or at least until you fall asleep.

Ok, back to the manorexic rocker boys in those tight fitting, low rise jeans…no rest for the wicked. =)


* Dreaming of You - The Coral



Currently listening :
The Coral
By The Coral
Release date: 2003-03-04

Guess Who Digs Me? June 23, 2008

According to Myspace, Jesus Christ has a crush on me. Would someone please tell him I'm not into guys with beards? (Unless they're named Brian Thomas and went to NYU film school. The one that got away - he made me laugh. A lot.) And that shroud thingy; a little high waisted don't you think? They do make low rise shrouds these days, geeeeeeze Jesus, get with it!

Can you imagine dating Jesus Christ? Holy shit (literally), you'd never win a fight cuz he'd be all martyring and victimy, and he'd get blood on everything with those stigmatas. Who's gonna clean that shit up? Pas Moi! I can tell you right now that I would be talking through clenched teeth all the time about the differences in musical taste. I hates Christian rock (yes "hates", as in Yosemite Sam types of hatin'), and just the very thought of it makes me do the backwards hiss thing one does when one witnesses an epic fingernail break (the kind that involves the bending back first, then the rip to the nail bed, blood, and an endless run of expletives).

You notice that most Christian rock is Metal? I wonder if that's why beards and long hair are so prevalent in that world. I also wonder if Jesus' stig's count as the first body piercing, and is that what awaits us in the near fashionable future? Stig piercing?

Regardless, I think it's tacky of Jesus to be taking out ads on Myspace, claiming his love for me, when we haven't even kissed. Too smothering for my taste.

Myspace is insane. They try to customize the ads from your profile info, as you can see in the "sponsored links" below your inbox message area. Apparently, being single and agnostic has generated the computer to digitally insult my intelligence. I don't need any suggestions when it comes to shopping for beliefs, thanks so much, I can pick em out all by my lonesome.

In my "Who You'd Like to Meet" section, I put a "Giant Panda", so I get bombarded with ads for Panda singles chat groups, Panda anti-virus programs, and "Panda Ringtones". I haven't a clue what a Panda sounds like, but I'm reasonably sure it wouldn't suit my cellular needs.

Were I to have a proclivity for "Barely Legal Rocker Boys" and put that instead of "Panda", I wonder what the computer would surmise of that? Would I be showered with invitations to join NAMBLA? (Or NAWBLA since I'm a chick…is there? Oh wait no I think that's some sort of Teacher's association.)

I've seen worse on other sites, particularly one where I googled advice on my slightly underweight cat. I was deeply concerned for my furry snookiecookie-puss and the site popped up "dying cat ringtones". WTF? Is there a market for such a thing? I don't even want to participate in gaining the insight on that one. Right below it was some sort of feedback you could fill in for the "ad", if you can call it that. Oh yeah, I filled it out. My cat told me what to put, and it's much too controversial to repeat here. Suffice it to say, we got our point across.

I'd be curious to know if the people that are marked as "in a relationship" or "married" get a different barrage of ads. Well, maybe I wouldn't. =)

**************************************************************************************************************

Some of you may think that this post ensures my ticket to Hell.

What makes you think we aren't already there?


Currently listening :
Nine in the Afternoon
Release date: 2008-06-17

Let U Entertain Me June 22, 2008

"I wanna be adored." I Wanna Be Adored - The Stone Roses

I was thinking of this song a few days ago, particularly the lyrics (there are very few in it) as like everyone else with a pulse, I want to be adored. Unfortunately, it's conditional. I would like to adore the person that adores me too (don't ya hate the fine print?).

Yesterday my friend called, and he brought up the same song explaining his current relationship. He's getting adored but it's not 100% mutual, and he couldn't figure out why, but I could.

People get together for a thousand different reasons (alcohol being the main one), but they stay together if they find each other amusing or entertaining. When that stops, you're done. Sometimes it never starts because you only got together out of physical admiration of each other, and then there are some that do amuse each other, but have no physical chemistry.

When you are an entertaining type of person, whether it be a musician, comedian, writer, or just plain fun to be around, you can get lost in the adoration from someone and not realize that that is all you are getting from them - they adore you, but that isn't the same as entertaining you. My friend is a musician, and he totally got what I was saying. He makes her laugh, but it's a one way street.

I practically constructed that street, as I've met so many wonderful and nice guys, but…yeah, no laughs (like this blog). I don't expect Bill Hicks (can't he's dead) or Dave Chappelle, but I do expect some degree of charm and humor. I gave up on it for a long time, but it is out there, I've seen it. I've met it; hell I've dated it. Sadly, the ones I find amusing either don't see me in the same light or else they know they're awesome and feel that many could benefit from their exposure. I date one at a time and I prefer that "one" to adhere to the same type of philosophy.

I've always been the entertainment in my relationships, making the decisions, coming up with things to do, and then I got sick of it. Last year I made a conscious effort to back off. Instead of absorbing people into my "thing", I wanted to see what they would come up with. I wanted things to be different, since what I was doing obviously wasn't working, but this didn't either and by January of this year, I was back to square one.

Drinking can give the false illusion that others are more amusing than is true, so I didn't drink for a very long time. I still don't much, but will be doing so on Thursday (dancey dance).

If nothing else, I'll make myself laugh.


Currently listening :
The Stone Roses
By The Stone Roses
Release date: 1990-10-25

OK Blunstone June 14, 2008

Today I was buzzing through the internet looking up something about the song "This Will Be Our Year" by The Zombies, when I found that the band OK Go did a cover of it (of course it's on my playlist now).

I was late to the party when it came to OK Go, but when I arrived, hot damn it rocked! I think I first saw Damian Kulash on The Daily Show of all places, and believe me, if I have a type, he is so it. He's the lead singer/guitarist for OK Go and even though I found him highly lickable, I wasn't about that song with the treadmills. That was all I had seen at the time and I didn't pursue it further until one of my best buds, Bonnie, schooled me on their finer points.

Sweet chocolate Christ, I can't believe it's been 3 years since "Oh No" was released. It's OK Go's second album and I would marry it if I could (please don't tell Pat Robertson as I'm sure there's something in the Bible that claims this act is cause for one sort of damnation or another and we don't want to open that can of blue suits now do we?). This album is just that - an ALBUM. Most efforts out there nowadays are a collection of songs, but this is a work in totality. The songs that are not portrayed in treadmill videos show the smokier side of Kulash's vocals, and the warmth in some of the recordings…you can almost smell the wood in the studio (not that kind of wood, geeze).

Upon first listening of "A Million Ways", I definitely felt a Franz Ferdinand vibe and thanks to Google, I knew why in a matter of seconds. Tore Johannson of Sweden produced "Oh No" and FF's self titled debut. You're a big fucking deal if your production leaves that much of a mark, so Tore is now in my mental producer rolodex hanging with the likes of John Leckie, Alan Moulder (heavy hitters in the 90's), and of course George Martin, aka the 5th Beatle.

I could definitely tell that OK Go was heavily influenced by The Zombies, who are one of my all time favorite bands. I would even go so far as to say that Colin Blunstone possesses the most beautiful voice that ever slipped across my ears. All of their recordings were done before I was sent down to this planet (or up, I really can't remember), but to me, "Odessey and the Oracle" is one of the best pieces ever made. And, yes, "Odessey" is spelled like that on the jacket. It was a 1967 misprint, but they ran with it.

There isn't enough digital space for all the great things I have to say about The Zombies and that album, but they did reunite for a US tour this July, and if you're lucky enough to be near one of the venues DO NOT miss it. I've seen Blunstone on his own, and my mouth was on the floor during the entire performance, I can't even imagine…well if you get good tickets, let me know. If Southwest flies to that area, I'm there. Same goes if you get good Radiohead tickets too! My neighbor works for Southwest. I watch his cats when he travels, he gives me tickets =)

Ok, so Kulash isn't quite Colin Blunstone, but close enough. On "Lately, It's so Quiet" the swoon meter busts out on top. That silky voice with those slightly dirty chords completely does it for me.

"Maybe, This Time" is probably my favorite. I can hear a Les Paul in there, and the simplicity and spacing of each part is nothing short of captivating. It reminds me of some 80's song that I can't quite recall, but someday when I'm overmedicated and bitching about social security (or the lack thereof), I'm sure it will come to me. Probably won't be able to hear by then, yeesh. (If you know me at that point, please help me load the gun.)

I've never seen OK Go live, but that's definitely on my "to do" list for this lifetime. You should see the list for my next life. =]


Currently listening :
Oh No
By OK Go
Release date: 2005-08-30