Curiosa, The Rhythm Of The Dance
So we paid $35 each to go to this thing last night.
I should say that I really feel like it was worth every penny. If for anything to see the FASHION ELITE strutting through the lawn in their high heels while primping their "messy hair" and talking about how retro the new Franz Ferdinand single sounds . I was excited about the opportunity of rubbing elbows with MUSIC'S MOST GOTH FANS. Surprisingly, there were less there than I expected. I did see some great costumes though. Like the guy who was wearing the skin tight leather longsleeve shirt complete with rings on it that connected with straps to the rings on his pants. All with white make up and black lipstick. He must have not opted for the "no smudge makeup" though because the 90 degree temps made him sweat, and that was a nightmare for his look. 99% of the crowd was sporting some sort of bad 80s look - OUTRAGEOUS MAN!
That being said, the music was good. The Cure brought along some shitty bands but the ones I saw were pretty good. We first got there as the Rapture stepped on stage. Now I have bitched about that band on this very blog, but I must say that their live show was exciting and they concentrated a great deal on the JAM aspect of each song. I like the guy who just plays cowbell the whole time and dances. He reminded me of the dude from the MMB. During their set I struck up a conversation with a 20 year old kid in the beer line who had a gigantic DEVO tattoo on his arm, right next to an AJA tat. He was pretty cool, and he liked beer. House Of jealous Lovers rocked hard. Didn't play much early stuff though.
Next was MUSE. Muse sucked donkey dicks.
Interpol was as excited about playing as they are after they shoot a big batch of heroin! REALLY EXCITED. Their set was good though. The sound was great and you could hear the deadpan wail for miles. They played a lot of new stuff which kinda sounded like modern rock versions of their old songs. Closed with PDA which got everyone up and rousing. Including this dude who did this one dance throughout their whole set. The dance consisted of a move where he wailed his arms and then combed both hands through his hair. It was more than tight.
The Cure started at 9:00 which was earlier than expected and a welcome decision due to the 11:00 curfew. They started with several songs off the new record and then out poured the hits. Their sound was also really good and you could hear ever instrument perfectly. Smith's vocals were crystal clear and added so much to the lush tunes. Probably one of the best rock voices ever. (Ellie you need to recognize fool!) The last time I saw the Cure was in '96 and they played for over 3 hrs. This time they had to play a condensed set but the crammed in as much substance as they could. I thought I would post the set list for you to enjoy...I sure did:
a night like this
the end of the world
just like heaven
pictures of you
from the edge of the deep green sea
a strange day
one hundred years
close to me
why can't i be you
Great NIGHT! I felt my soul.
I read that they are opening for GUIDED BY VOICES in December in NYC and that they played some "Fuck Cancer" show with some other schlubs (Blues Explosion, Har Mar Superstar, J Mascis, Cat Power, Quintron and Miss Pussycat) in NYC in May. I know Matt Sweeny is good friends with Bob, there is actually a really funny letter that Matt sent to Bob early on in the GBV years - here
(under Scrap Book, scroll to the bottom). That is one band that I never saw live that I would have loved to see. I think dark was fortunate enough to see them in NYC once. Man, that band kicked ass.
today's recommended listening
I don't know how long this has been up, but there's a new Comets on Fire song at Sub Pop's website. Their 2002 album, Field Recordings from the Sun, was one of the greatest, heaviest rock records of recent vintage. It's not heavy in a Sabbath way, really, but more like Oneida or Acid Mothers Temple. Somebody somewhere once wrote that ELO is what the Beatles would have sounded like if they lived on a spaceship. Comets on Fire is what Deep Purple would have sounded like if they lived inside a black hole.
"The Antlers of the Midnight Sun" is the first single from their Sub Pop debut, and it sounds as if moving to a bigger label hasn't smoothed out their sound one bit. Here's hoping they can keep up the good work.
I fully expect Atlanta to get hit with a million billion nukes next week
The main reason we scheduled our wedding showers for this final week of July was to avoid the DNC dementia up here. Most of that decision is based on the stories of complete immaneuverability that have been trumpeted on the front of the Herald every day since February. Part of it, though, is due to our own fears of being blown half the fuck to hell. Call us silly, but we dislike terrorism, especially when we believe we might be among those most directly terrorized. Upon closer inspection, our rationale isn’t too tight, however. Why would any serious and committed professional terrorist try to strike where an attack is most expected? Boston’s already starting to get locked up as tightly as Snake Plissken’s Manhattan. Everybody has been afraid and half-expectant of an attack during the convention for months. Security and suspicions are both amazingly high right now, which should both complicate the ability to commit nefarious deeds and also diminish the actual terror that will ensue the next time America does get attacked. It makes more sense to blow up Atlanta or Kansas City or San Francisco or Seattle next week than Boston. In fact, during the convention, Boston will probably be the safest city in America.
I know a lot of people have been expressing similar thoughts lately, and I know that there would be a great deal of psychological benefit to terrorists worldwide if some of their brethren were capable of slipping something through our most extreme and sincere security efforts. It just seems unusual to me to expect a terrorist to strike when it's most expected. If there is to be an attack in Boston, watch it happen the day after the convention leaves town.
The Awesome Destiny to Which I Aspire
24 hours from now I’ll be on my way back to Georgia. There is much I have to do there, and unfortunately my time shall be limited. I will have to perform several tasks at once if I am to accomplish all my goals. I will have to make time for my family and my friends and my fiance’s family and the Cyclorama. I plan on punching Saxby Chambliss in the cancer while recording our next rock album. I intend to get divorced in a Waffle House. I hope to do the Dirty Bird on top of Stone Mountain while eating Chick-Fil-A. I must taste cake and wear clothes. But most of all, I will spend countless hours sitting in a motionless car while sweating profusely and listening to Z93. Hopefully I'll be able to fulfill all this in one short week. I anticipate my homecoming, and all the memories that it shall reignite.
Never Boating AGAIN!
Dont normally post news stories here...but seriously FUCK THIS...
TYBEE ISLAND, Ga. (AP) -- A 65-year-old man on a fishing trip along the Georgia coast was injured Wednesday when a 30-pound barracuda jumped into his boat.
"They were fishing for Spanish mackerel and had stopped the boat to re-adjust the lines when this fish jumped over 30 feet
from the water into the salon and hit this guy in the hand," said Judy Helmey, owner of Miss Judy Charters. "It broke his hand and cut his finger really badly."
"We see them jumping all the time, but you never see them jump straight into the boat," Helmey said. "It didn't have a hook in it or anything pulling it in. He was sailing like he had wings
Everyone knows that you fuckin karate chop the shit out of flying barracudas, but would you be quick enough on your feet to defend yourself from the new terror of summer?
Is Leo Mazzone the only pitching coach with his own endorsement deals?
2 Compact Disc Reviews (of my 2 most recent Compact Discs which I had boughten)
The Roots - The Tipping Point
This cd definitely grows on you with each listen, which is not a really good way to start a review, but shit on. After reading a lot about it before it's release and absolutely loving their most recent Phrenology, I was really expecting this Compact Disc to slay. Well, I was a little disappointed initially, but overall I think this Compact Disc takes a few listens to understand. Roots fans know that they rarely repeat themselves and are all about expanding their minds down new avenues, the same rings true here. The beats are there, but this one grooves in a more jamming sense. You like jamming? This Compact Disc is without a doubt hip hop, but I know that every single hippy is going to have a mental breakdown about this record. They are going to be dancing in the streets to it every day. There are a lot of R&B hints on this thing, not in the sense of Ur-shur or Kelly, but in the sense of old ass R&B you'd hear on 102.5. A good record that will be blasting at our hippy parties all summer. Grade: B
Mystic Chords Of Memory - S/T
I am still a damn huge fan of the Beechwood Sparks. Out of all the bands trying to sound like the Byrds, I really feel like these guys "got it". The longer these Los Angeles hippies existed, the more their music grew magical wings and flew into outer space with a stardust trail leading the rest of us to their space island. That good. Well apparently the BS got in a big tizzy and called it quits (I hope this is BS, har har har har har har). In the down time of their reunion plans, each of the members have released solo projects. This one is being released by the main vocalist of the BS, Chris Gunst and his friend Jen from the Aislers Set. And with a name that came from a line in Abraham Lincoln's inaugural speech...what the fuck could be better? Obviously an incredible duo and sure to be an incredible release. Awesome COMPACT DISC, right? Honk, Skonk. Not exactly. I don't know how to further explain it other than saying that the songs just aren't that good. Not a lot is really there. Gunst is partial to the light as air acoustic guitar (at points almost inaudible) which sounds good but the songs just get overly boring. I am a huge fan of dumb ass lyrics, but some of these are Raffi-like. The instrumentation is basic, which is what they were going for, but when every song sounds so so similar - a little bit of change would be good. This is a real disappointment in comparison to the other Beechwood Sparks solo stuff - All Night Radio. Which is a mind fuck train ride through awesomeville. Good for one or two songs on a mix compact disc. Grade: D
This Kid is in TROUBLE!
Ok so I arrive to work this morning to find a voice mail in my inbox. I start to listen and quickly realize that its a bad prank call. Now once being on the cutting edge of the mischievous phone call scene, I feel as if my years of studying would allow me to recognize a good prank call. It takes creativity, it takes a sense of imagination beyond the likes of a normal human, and most of all it takes some heart. Now don't get me wrong, sometimes dick and butt jokes are funny - funny as hell, but in this case I think they failed. Here is a transcript of the message:
"I'll mow that lawn man
. Cause, I got these cheeseburgers man
, Ill suck that dick man
. Oh. I'll suck that fuckin dick. Yeah, yeah, yeah. That muthafuckin dick. Suck my dick nig. Suck it. Suck my fuckin dick. Suck it. Suck my dick. Suck MY DICK BITCH! .... Alright, I'm done."
What sounded like a 14 year old on a cell phone, obviously showing off for friends gets the grade of a "D+" for this message. The only reason he got a "+" was for the use of the cheeseburger line. Now here is the interesting part, I have this kid's cell phone number from the caller ID. I tried to call it this morning in hopes he would have voice mail set up, but unfortunately the voice mail message only has the phone number as the id. I was really hoping I could get his name, but either way I have not left a message yet.
This kid is about to get flip scolded into the next century. I will strike back, and strike hard with the force of my prankcestors. My initial idea was to call back and act as an "Agent" from the Patriot Act Reinforcement Agency
and tell this kid that he has violated several codes and has now been labeled a terrorist. Then I thought I should post things here, and see where everyone else thinks I should take this.
Let Me Recommend Something (and/or Some Things)
Lately some fantastic movies from years gone by have been getting released on DVD for the very first time. In addition to the 1980 megaclassic Midnight Madness
(a brief conversation about which you can read at Big Gray
's weblog), an absolutely stupendous film called The President's Analyst
started popping up in stores a few weeks ago. If you like absurdist hippie psychoanalytic conspiracy comedy-thriller satires, you might like this movie. If you like making fun of the '60's and all the bullshit what that entails, you might like this movie even more. It's got James Coburn, who was always never less than 1000% man, and also Severn Darden, who was some bigwig in Second City back in the '50's and '60's, and who helped create the standard improv format that was once unique and innovative but has now been completely stripped of all humor and life. But so it's a hell of a flick, easily one of the top 4,000 or so movies ever made. I recommend it as heartily as I recommend eating peanut butter sandwiches when drunk and lonely on a Thursday evening. It WILL invigorate you.
So here I am minding my own damn biznass working on some exciting financial statements in my office, when the door to the office swings open and my coworker (the bitch ass one...see link under "It Makes Me Warm" here
) comes staggering in after what looked like an exhausting lunch. She stumbles into my office and throws down onto my desk her monstrous purse and a double gingerbread latte that she has taken a break from sucking down like a liposuction machine. Winded, she goes on to say that she just battled some Mexican food for lunch and it seems as if she lost. At least that's what I think she said, all I could really pay attention to was the coffee dribble drooling down her chin and a crumb that was up next to her nose(?). She was telling me how she already knew this Mexican food was not going to sit well and was relating her food engulfment to our other coworker who had emergency surgery on Saturday to remove her Gall Bladder after eating some deadly chicken. After she leaves I hear her complaining to a friend on the phone (because why start working now?) about how her stomach is hurting. Remember this.
So about 30 minutes later she drags her ass into my office to access some files from one of the many filing cabinets near me. All is quiet. Until her ass rips a fart loud enough for the person on the other end of my phone to hear. Then to try and cover it up she immediately starts slamming around the filing cabinet to insinuate that it made the juicy noise. Then she says..."God these cabinets are always making loud noises".
That was your ass - lady, not a damned piece of metal.
Bill Simmons is Always Right
ESPN's best writer has a great article about our idol, Shaq. Everybody should go read it now.
"Maybe we were insulted as basketball fans, but this was also the one quality that made him stand out over everyone else: This is a good guy. He takes care of his family, looks out for his friends, never stops having fun. He dabbles in movies, music, TV, even comedy roasts. He figured out how to handle the media early in his career -- mumble through your answers, use intimidation when necessary; and eventually, everyone will leave you alone. I think he's one of the smartest athletes in any sport. Seriously. Who leads a better life than him? What team athlete makes more money than him? Who balanced the characters of Public Superstar and Private Superstar more brilliantly than him? We don't know ANYTHING about him, yet we feel like we do. And he likes it that way."
Why are most gothed out metal heads big fucking pussies?
Seriously, have you noticed that the more Goth fucking hard Eastern Europe Black Metal your ass is...the more likely you are to take time daily to wipe your puss? Tell me why you have these huge dudes who wear Obituary shirts and have dog collars with spikes and wear dark cloaks n shit that have fetishes with fucking Grover or some shit. So we are supposed to believe that they are misunderstood and that deep down wearing clothes that Maryln Manson shit on is a cry out? Fuck that. We need more HARD dudes who will beat your fucking ass within an inch of your life if you even look at a flower. Not some dude who cuts himself and then turns around and writes about it in his Hello Kitty journal. Let me say this, if you listen to Thorrs Hammer and own a stuffed animal...fuck you!
Content-Free Movie Reviews
Spiderman 2: very good.
Mystic River: bad.
Super Size Me: good.
City of God: very good.
Sleepover: Best Picture.
The Station Agent: good.
Battle of the Badass Rockers: eh.
President Rambo: good.
Stupidest Thing I've Heard in a While
are that the Sox will send Nomar to the Cubs for prospects, and then send the prospects to Arizona for Randy Johnson. As Rotoworld
points out, that would almost guarantee Pedro landing in a Yankees uniform next year. If they basically give up both of their future Hall of Famers for a year and a half of a 40-year-old injury risk, then this team deserves whatever misery comes their way.
And of course, according to the poll at the Globe's website, the fans are solidly behind this trade.
Best Name Encountered At Work
So I'm what they call a "Member Enrollment Associate" at Blue Cross Blue Shield of Massachusetts. Basically I add or delete accounts when the subscriber gets hired, fired, or dies. I would call it my day job, if I ever did anything at night other than sit around and drink beer while watching tapes of early '90's MTV. Anyway, I have to look at hundreds of different names a day due to this job, and most of them are pretty boring and typical. Every once in a while, however, an amazing name will come across and force me to pause and exalt in its brilliance. The latest such example is one of the greatest names I have ever come across: Ervelance E. Exantus. This might just be both the Flair-Steamboat and the '91 World Series of names, combined into one undeniably astounding sobriquet.
Tattoo I saw in the Philly airport yesterday...
This might be the best actual tattoo I have ever seen...
It was on the outside of his shin/calf on the right leg. The man was wearing torn jean shorts, was about 150lbs overweight, wearing a Team Dodge shirt and was hanging with a worn out redneck friend who was wearing black jeans, black reeboks, black shirt (torn off sleeves), and had silver hair greased up into an Elvis looking mound.
This was his tattoo:
Jesus's face with a moustache and stubble extending down his cheeks and chin. Wearing a hat turned around backwards. Where the strap on the back of the hat normally went (usually with the pegs to make the hat fit)...was a stip of thorns. He was wearing no shirt (the tattoo went to Jesus's shoulders) and had a tattoo on his left shoulder of a cross. Behind Jesus was a sun rising.
Man, fuckin Greece is bangin'!
Ive been here for 4 days and I swear i should have
gone to like 5 raves already. Freakin everyone in
this whole country loves techno. Ice and I really
need to get Techno Bowl off the ground and take it to
Greece. For screel, from the shops, to the cabbies,
to the block bangin clubs...Techno is the song! The
song of the Earth. Greece won the Euro Cup on Sunday
and they had this party in their olympic stadium with
a million people there and all they did was get the
freakin soccer team up on this stage and BLAST techno
that resonated throughout the entire freakin city of
Athens and flashed strobes that lit up the Parthenon.
IT was classic...we had a city rave. When was the
last fuckin time you raved with a mil?
So basically Im here typing at 1am getting ready to
head to the "Rock Rave" and have a time. I will
report back - IF I MAKE IT THROUH THE TOUGH BEATS!
Much Love YALLZ!
ps- my other deduction is that GREECE would be Crews's
favorite place on this whole EARF! Most of you can
figure that one out. To quote Jon C...SHIBBY-JIGGLE!
They Have No-one to Blame but Themselves
John Donovan has an article about the Red Sox up at Sports Illustrated's site
. After being up here for a year I can tell you that Red Sox fans are indeed the most ridiculously anxious and obsessive sports fans I've ever encountered. The only players spared the locals' hatred after last week's 1-5 swing against the Yankees and Atlanta were Manny, David Ortiz, and Curt Schilling. Everybody else could have gone to hell as far as the fans were concerned, especially Francona, Derek Lowe, and Nomar. I'm almost surprised no Sox has ever been killed by some overealous fan.
The Nomar situation is completely ridiculous. Nomar has every single right to be pissed at and apprehensive about this team's management. The conspiracy theories flying around up here, though, about Nomar faking his injury and not playing up to his level, are pathetic. The fact that the fans could so easily turn on their best and most favorite player in a generation or two proves that they don't love the players or the history of the team. The emotion wasted on this ballclub is solely about Boston's own depressing inferiority complex. If the Sox ever win the World Series the people of Boston could briefly believe that Boston is a world-class city without having to lie to themselves. A World Series victory would momentarily justify this town's amazingly inflated self-image. The locals could cease to deny to themselves that Boston is a dying provincial city whose importance and significance peaked over 200 years ago and that is only still kept afloat by higher education and tourism. Since the Revolution the entire history of Boston can be summed up as a futile attempt to keep up with New York.
I really do like this city. It's a beautiful town with amazing history and impressive culture, and I've never encountered another city that's as easy to get around in. I will even acknowledge that it's better than Atlanta in almost every possible way (although Atlanta will always be the city I was born in). But the truth is that Boston is the David Brent of cities, and that combination of desperate, pathetic, neediness and baseless arrogance makes it really hard to love this town.
sponge cover band
So what groups are least deserving of a cover band?
There have been a spate of cover bands popping up around here, earnest young hipsters doing the Smiths and the Cure and Yo la Tengo. I'd like to get in on the action with a cover band that's just wrong, that has no reason to exist.
I'm not talking wacky, funny, or goofy - I'm looking to create something utterly unnecessary. Inessential, as the Onion would say.
So GBV begins their "farewell" tour in Boston on September 9th. Crog is already making plans to fly up for this shit, and then follow the band down to Philly and maybe DC that weekend. Anybody else interested?
The worst hair in Boston resides in a duplex on Allston Street. Every time I drive by this house I see a man with the ugliest white-guy dreadlocks standing around outside. This dude’s almost always shirtless or in a sleeveless tee, showing off some hideous tattoo around his upper left arm. He looks like Lucas “Big Gray” Jensen, but surlier, and with Bo Derek cornrows. White dreadlocks are almost always a bad idea, of course, but this guy takes them into an entirely new realm of terror. They’re the skinniest, least substantial, most pathetic dreadlocks I’ve ever seen. The guy might be alright – he’s always gardening, it seems, which is pretty cool (as long as it’s not grass) – but as long as he’s got that pile of spaghetti on his head I don’t think I could ever relate to him as a normal human being. It’s like when you meet a blind person or a midget, and you feel immense pressure to not talk about the only thing you can think of and the only thing you want to talk about; if I ever met this dude, all I would want to talk about is his hair, and why it is so disgusting, and how it looks like he’s wearing a halo of used condoms, and if that's the image he wants to send to the world around him. I don’t think I could ever go camping with him.
"A Shoutout To Public Housing"
So there I was last night off of I-85 in the (originally "Magic Johnson's") Regal 24 movie theatre catchin' a flick called "Spidermang". It was pretty cool, but my encounter in the bathroom of the 24 was much more exciting than this summer blockbuster. Now, I can see you wondering, what in the freak was so cool in the bathroom? A raptor shaped terd? Better than that. The movie ends and with blatter on the verge of exploding I hightail it to the nearest bathroom. Push comes to shove when I bust through some kids trying to get laid, I clear them and bust through the door only to come face to face with one of my IDOLS. FACE TO FACE! Who was in the bathroom of the Regal 24 washing his hands after also using this fine restroom facility, you ask?
Oh, just my boy ANDRE 3000.
I was fucking shocked. So I smile and walk past and literally try to take the fastest piss of my life. Which as dudes know, if you goin' too fast - mutherfuckin' piss stings. So I slow my flow, figuring I might make it out to see him in the lobby. I finish up and head to the sink. Andre is still chillin. He is now drying his hands and I attend to the sink and head on towards the door about the same time as him.
Most will now wonder what he was wearing. This dude has fashion as his little bitch. He was rockin a green and white striped button up, blue slacks, an orange paisley ASCOT, and a wide brimmed straw hat (kinda looked like the '20s campaign hats) - lookin DOPE.
So I hold the door for him as we are exiting and he gives a "Thank You" to which I immediately thought shouldn't it be "STANK YOU!?" I was happy either way. After pointing him out to the friends...we look over and he is just chilling some more. Nobody is bothering him, he is just waiting on a friend. They dip out about the same time and happenchance lends to us following him out of the parking lot as well. He was rockin' a 2004 Range Rover. Super tight, but not overly bling-ed.
I was so geeked up for the rest of the night. I mean, ANDRE 3000, a hometown hero!
A great damn American Rapper and the truest FLIP-SCOLDER of hip hop.
Up On America's Tip
Fuck man, I wanna get up on America's Tip.
I fucking love that place and just want to be up in that place.
I want to listen to bands like Dashboard Confessional and Michele Branch and fuckin live the life dream of fantasy. "Why don't I go ahead and marry the America"...fuck you, I think I will. That way I can be with it when I wish, and when she wishes. Let me climb up to that tip and enjoy the view while I smack high five with the Statue of Liberty, the Statue of Rocky, and Jesus. Oh you don't think that Jesus lives in America? Check again, asshole. Why don't you look him up in West Chest Nut, MT. Just livin. Still savin America from masked men. Let me fly with the eagle on her back as she shows me the land she invented. "There coke bref, there is the Hoover Dam, I mated there for the first time and...POOF - it existed." she would screech and also high five me. Drinkin' lemonade with BB King on a riverboat as we discuss the stock market and other random shit like birds of flight and the AIDS problem. Ride my bike across the plains and hit a huge ramp that takes me over the moon so I can snap a photo of the place where I want to be up on its tip.
Battle for America - In America
Why do I enjoy saying Osama so much? Probably cause he wants to be American.
Ok so we know a lot of people are after the American way of life, but if we had to select two Americans to protect us from the death wave, who would we pick. I think you know. So answer this question. Who would win in this fight, for America:
SHAQ & Kobe vs. Sadam & Osama
Dont give me some bullshit answer.
Dont give me some flukeass answer.
Dont give me some assback answer.
Give me your scenarios.
What type of fighting would it be?
I finally watched City of God last night.
It was good, mostly, but I had one major problem with it: it wasn’t nearly American enough. The movie fails to acknowledge that America is the greatest place to ever exist. I didn’t see a single American flag, there were no references to the problems that face America today, and nobody talked about how great America was. I don’t think America was even mentioned once in the entire film. I suppose the filmmakers had the right to do what they wanted, but I find it unbelievable that they failed and/or refused to talk about how awesome America is. They might have some talent, but obviously they must not love our country as much as every right-minded individual should. I mean, not showing us how amazing America is even once, in a movie that I, and many other Americans, would watch for the first time the week before the Fourth of July? What sort of ignorant, anti-American assholes made this movie, anyhow?
Words of a true great American
Facing the Future
Every journey begins
With but a small step.
And every day is a chance
For a new, small step
In the right direction.
Just follow your Heartsong.
by Mattie Stepanek
personally my favorite Heart song is "Barracuda"