December 30, 2005
IT WAS A VERY GOOD YEAR
...I raise my half-empty glass to a future of health & happiness...yours & mine...
America
by Robert Creeley
America, you ode for reality!
Give back the people you took.
Let the sun shine again
on the four corners of the world
you thought of first but do not
own, or keep like a convenience.
People are your own word, you
invented that locus and term.
Here, you said and say, is
where we are. Give back
what we are, these people you made,
us, and nowhere but you to be.
.
...we lost some good people this past year, including Mr. Creeley. As we start a new year, let's try to be worthy of them...
...
December 29, 2005
THAT JOKE ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE
...chronic....what?...
this must end. this profusion of praise for one of the most inane video skits ever perpetrated upon an unsuspecting SNL viewership, or anywhere else for that matter. I continue to remain at a total loss over what everybody sees as being so freaking hilarious and funny about the "chronic of narnia" sketch that aired two weeks ago. I've read posts such as "funniest SNL sketch in years"...."best SNL video short ever"...well I'm sorry to burst the bubble of these youngsters, but comments such as these strongly suggest that they have never seen the john belushi skit where he dances on the graves of his co-stars, or the steve martin skit where he dances with gilda radner (from astaire-esque romance to happy feet and back again in two beats), or mr. bill, or the (my favorite) christopher guest/harry shearer/martin short syncronized swimming piece...I'd even put the christopher walken/bruce dickinson "more cowbell" skit up there in terms of being funny and causing a groundswell.
But Narnia? No way. I don't tune in to SNL regularly anymore, but since Neil Young was on, my pal Thudstaff and I were switching back and forth, hoping to catch a little holiday Neil. And then it happened--the white boy rap farce. OK, I get it--they're nerds. They drop Hamiltons like Aaron Burr. Ha ha. They praise cupcakes instead of glocks. Mapquest is mentioned. Ho ho ho, very droll. But funny? Not even close.
But take heart: I have a theory.
Obviously, the style of the song is a rip-off of the Beastie Boys, so let's ponder that for a moment. I am reminded of a brief period during which that guy who played Screech on "Saved by the Bell" (Justin Diamond) was paired in some imaginations with Mike D. (Mike Diamond) of the Beasties. Were they brothers? The same guy? No. and no. Yet I began to think...there were a surprising number of youngsters who loved SBTB, and I presume found it funny. The show ran from 1989-1993. If the average age of a SBTB viewer was somewhere in the vicinity of 10-14, then these same viewers are now approximately college age, which is obviously still a core constituency of the SNL audience.
so there you have it: these same kids who thought SBTB was comedy valhallah now consider the "chronic of narnia" cupcake rap to be a new watermark in the comedic arts.
meanwhile, richard pryor passes away with nary a word, and hilary duff is busy making the world safe for the return of pat boone and mary poppins.
white people: stop. now. please.
...
December 28, 2005
TOYS IN THE ATTIC
...swirling, lush, milkshake-thick...
...and other guitar cliches! and to think that I might have never known the glories of this here device were I never to have built or acquired a standard spec fender strat guitar (to my ears, it just ain't the same with a les paul, tele, es335, etc.). but now that there's a strat in the tonebarn, it has, quite organically, led my fingers along a happy tour of hendrix county...so it was just a matter of time before I broke out the sweetsound ultra-vibe univibe clone and tried, once again, to grok that unique "machine gun" tone...
two ingredients: first, the aforementioned pedal, manufactured by bob sweet of sweetsound electronics...
[sweetsound's current inventory features a smaller unit called the mojo vibe--which I suppose makes me the owner of a discontinued boutique model which will probably enjoy a nice price bump due to its niche status combined with lack of availability--you vintage stompbox fiends are welcome to email me generous offers of beaucoup spondulics] which to my ears, and that of many others who've tried all the competing brands, is the creme de la creme of univibe clones--mr. sweet himself was the man who allegedly created the voodoo labs univibe product, before moving on to start his own company.
the second ingredient is the lindy fralin real '54...
neck pickup. never before have I been quite so enamored of six magnets and a few coils of wire. fat, tangy (twangy? no! tangy!), replete with girth and shimmer, this is THE strat tone I've been craving most of my adult life.
I now look forward to revisiting all those great jimi hendrix/billy cox riffs...why not? I've got the TONE now....and in case any of you have forgotten, those classic band of gypsys recordings were made on NEW YEAR'S EVE, 1969-1970, to my mind the closing hymn to the 1960s, and sadly, the last new year's eve of jimi's short life. he died september 1970. I can't think of a better soundtrack for ushering in a new year, and given the life & times at present, "machine gun" seems (unfortunately) apropos...
p.s. to anyone who wonders why I have been using the moniker "stratcat" all this time, without actually owning a genuine strat...well, I can now face the world as a resolute, complete being and state for the record that I am not, nor have I ever been, a cat. That's a negatory on the meow-meow good buddy. And while I'd like to say that I'm just a little red rooster (too lazy to crow for day), the actual fact of the matter is quite to the contrary: I am, in fact (with apologies to ogden nash), of the canine ilk. Woof woof. However, when Lester Young began the practice of calling his fellow musicians "cats" I wasn't around, and for that matter, who am I to contradict Prez? Just don't be surprised if I start humping your leg...
Tang!
...
December 27, 2005
SCRAPPLE FROM THE APPLE
...I've gone over to the dark side...
yes, it's true. I now own an iPod. a christmas gift from a very fashionable friend. it's about time I had one, so I was told. so, now I do.
the verdict? it's small, and it plays music. it seems fine. sounds OK, probably better with an upgrade on the run-of-the-mill headphones.
it's one of the small ones--only 2GB. know what? I actually like that idea. I have so much freaking mp3 music on file that it would hardly seem to matter--20, 30, 40GB....I'd still fill it up all the way to 100% capacity and spend my iPod file management sessions making decisions about what to keep and what to delete. this way it's just a lot less time-consuming. and I can turn over the entire menu in less than an hour...
best part: I didn't have to listen to a single neighboring conversation on the train this morning...a christmas miracle...
...
December 25, 2005
SAM
...grin like a dog and go about the city...
Psalms 59:6:14
...a christmas wish: that all dogs go to heaven...
Remembering my dear comrade, a true-hearted work of wonder, himself: the amazing mr. bones...my friend Sam...
ever to be missed this day...
1/95 - 12/25/03
peace.
...
December 24, 2005
A STAR IS BORN
...introducing.....the lovestrat....
...pickups, pots, & switch, disassembled while shielding the pickguard...two duncan antiquities and a fralin '54 special in the neck...from chime to grind....
...copper shielding tape inside the body cavity and on back of pickguard...cuts the 60-cycle hum...
...taken with a faster exposure...olympic white nitro lacquer with mint green pickguard...
...iz-zat you, santa claus?...
...
December 23, 2005
REQUIEM FOR A HEAVYWEIGHT
he was my best friend since we were thirteen and the reason I started and still to this day play music. his life was cut way too short at twenty seven. I think of him every day. his spirit lives on in the work I continue to do. folks ask what kind of bass player am I. my answer is "I'm d. boon's bass player."
--Mike Watt
D. Boon 1 April 1958 - 22 December 1985
[the following is ripped directly from David "get your war on"
Rees' excellent appreciation piece in today's Huffington Post. I can think of little to add that would improve upon it.]
What Would D. Boon Do?
(by David Rees @ Huffington Post)
D. Boon, who played guitar and sang in the Minutemen, a California political punk trio, died twenty years ago tonight.
Since his untimely death, a hagiographic aura has enveloped D. Boon and the Minutemen. Indeed, D. Boon is widely considered a patron saint of American punk rock.
But how great were the Minutemen, really?
I've been thinking about that question a lot recently. Here is my answer:
-The Minutemen were--are--the greatest punk band of all time.
So there you go.
But there's more:
-The Minutemen's awesome, inexhaustible 1984 masterpiece, "Double Nickels on the Dime," is the greatest rock album of all time.
-D. Boon's opening guitar lick on that album's "Two Beads At The End" is, simply, the most "God-DAMN, no he DIDN'T" punk rock guitar moment of all time.
-D. Boon's guitar solo on "'99," from the album "What Makes A Man Start Fires," is the greatest guitar solo of all time.
-Bassist Mike Watt and drummer George Hurley were the tightest, baddest, most in-the-pocket-and-out-of-bounds punk rock rhythm section of all time. Their performance on "What Makes A Man Start Fires," which careens from as-fast-and-furious-as-Paris-Hilton's-panties-dropping to as-buckled-down-and-funky-as-Darth-Vader-buttfucking-a-purple-Rolex, is the most convincing proof of this of all time.
-The first time I heard the Minutemen--on a Saturday afternoon in 8th grade, when my friend lowered the stylus onto "Shit From An Old Notebook," and the song somersaulted out of his RadioShack speakers in an ecstasy of spasmodic guitar and drum fills--is the greatest "first time someone heard a band and their life changed for all time" of all time.
-That song's jarring first line: "Let the products sell themselves / fuck advertising, commercial psychology / psychological methods to sell should be destroyed," is the greatest first line of a song of all time.
-The band's political lyrics, printed on album covers without line breaks or capital letters, like James Frey channeling Noam Chomsky, are the greatest political lyrics of all time:
"I saw some military hardware today they changed the color olive drab to yellow/brown/gray the color of our dead the color of our glory"
-The band's other lyrics, many of which were combined with brief, angular melodies to create remarkably accurate approximations of what Western intellectual thought actually sounds like, are the greatest other lyrics of all time:
"starting with the affirmation of man I work myself backwards using cynicism (the time monitor, the space measurer)"
-The Minutemen's cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival's "Fortunate Son"--which is itself one of the greatest political songs of all time, but which is not quite as good as the Minutemen's version, because Mike Watt's bass line sounds so goddamn funk-ass amazing coming out of the stereo that you want to crap your pants and run around gurgling like Lewis Black--is the greatest cover of all time.
-The photograph accompanying Spin magazine's posthumous 1986 tribute to Boon--a grainy gig photo in which Boon and Watt play acoustic guitars accompanied by Hurley on bongos in what looks like a church basement located 500 miles below the earth's surface and 10,000 miles away from Top 40 radio; an image which totally confounded my expectations of what "punk rock musicians" and "punk rock concerts" looked like; and which I taped to my locker at Culbreth Junior High so I could feel connected to this mysterious new American culture that lay beyond the Maginot Line of Bon Jovi and Jefferson Starship--is the greatest photograph of a punk band of all time.
-The Minutemen's catalytic philosophy--that "punk is whatever we make it to be," that any group of kids could pick up instruments and make artistic, innovative, impossible music without worrying about cliques, categories, or condemnation; even working-class kids from San Pedro like Boon and Watt--is the greatest band philosophy of all time.
-The 1,200 songs my friends and I recorded in my parents' basement after becoming fans of D. Boon and the Minutemen, and the happy memories of those years, are, for me, the most compelling argument for the power of the aforementioned philosophy of all time.
-That my career as a political cartoonist literally began the night I asked myself "What would D. Boon do?" before clumsily trying to make the comic-strip equivalent of a Minutemen song--which therefore means I owe D. Boon my livelihood--is, for me, as a childhood worshipper of D. Boon, the greatest fact of all time.
-That D. Boon's bassist and best friend, Mike Watt, still plays bass, writes music, and tours the country in a Ford Econoline van; and that Mike Watt ends his gigs with the exhortation to "start your own band, paint your own picture, write your own book"--twenty years after his friend's death broke his heart--and that Mike Watt continues to champion this D.I.Y. punk philosophy while many other punks have burnt out, grown soft, or given up; and that Mike Watt (I imagine) perseveres in part to honor his brilliant friend's brief life and the possibilities bequeathed to future musicians, artists, activists, punks and outsiders--is one of the greatest American success stories of all time.
"Our band could be your life."
D. Boon is dead. Long live D. Boon.
...
December 22, 2005
WHITE RABBIT
...a little glimpse at my future main squeeze...
so it's coming along...the trip has been bumpy, and I've experienced more stutter-steps than I care to admit--a step-by-step reportage would serve mainly to emphasize my lack of wood shop acumen...[e.g. using incorrect tools is a superlative way of fucking up a delicate lacquer finish-I can relay this workshop tidbit based on recent experience]...but after yesterday's experience of snapping a brittle "vintage" bone blank in two, due to an unpropitious filing angle, and a painstaking installation of tuners (during which one of the brand-new sperzels' threads simply sheared off), I found an old, filed nut to use temporarily, while I craft a new one from a new bone blank, and after screwing in the bridge (one of the few things that went in without complication), I put some strings on to see how it felt.
the verdict: sublime. it's a nice big rosewood slab-on-maple, with the "V" contour, ala fender clapton model, and the fit in the joint between neck and body--before screwing it in--was as tight as they come, affording maximum resonance and vibratory transfer. no electronics yet, but the acoustic volume is loud enough to suggest that the amplified tone will have characteristics of wood and flesh that will be malleable enough to coax three-dimensional, shimmering chords, or pushed hard to yield a sustaining, singing lead voice.
but let me not get too far ahead of myself. tonight I finish up the nut, and if all goes well, the strings come off and the copper shielding goes on. after that, connecting the grounds and pickups should be a simple matter. hold my breath, plug it in...(note to self--need to pick up a set of strap-loks today)...
if all goes according to plan, there will be a new featured axe in days to come...and plotzing aplenty...
[ SIDEBAR: whilst skulking around the strat assembly workshop yesterday, I revisited an album from a few years ago which struck me afresh as a work of great merit and musical congress: Radiohead's "Hail to the Thief"... a few holidays ago, I'd scored a copy from a friend, but while playing it during a get-together at the apartment, few of the invited guests shared my enthusiasm. and so it went into the vaults, waiting for the light of day to return via the random vagaries of the cd jukebox carousel. short version: it has gravitas, opulent orchestration, synchronic guitar/keyboard pastels, the big/little, the soft/loud, and Thom Yorke's voice is an operatic siren across the skies of america....though if you think of Radiohead as being strident, this one has its moments...still, a rewarding front-to-back listen...and the album title is still a wonderfully concise way of assailing one's head of state... ]
...
December 21, 2005
SAMSON AND DELILAH
...put a shirt on, pretty boy...
...howzabouta white one with pinstripes?....
it remains to be seen how mr. damon will perform with his famous locks shorn as per team rules...
but in any case, whilst in the midst of an asspain transit strike, a vicious cold snap, and the ubiquitous malaise that is the holidays, it's a kick to know that once again--the red sox blinked--and we go to school this morning with a new centerfielder & bona fide lead-off man...merry christmas, charlie brown!!!
predictions, anyone?
since it's the first day of winter, I can't resist:
now is the winter of our (red sox nation's) discontent
made glorious summer by this son of (New) York...
...
December 20, 2005
LIGHTNING STRIKES
...it's a cold day for a contingency plan...
q: where was the mayor BEFORE the strike started?
a: shopping.
q: where was the governor?
a: new hampshire
and the pataki crony kalikow, that influence peddlar scumbag who is point man in charge of spreading around MTA moneys to candidates favorable to their style of creative financing, could not get it done.
then again, what's the urgency? kalikow's chauffeur isn't on strike...
Accidental hike in the transit strike
Roller skate or ride a bike
Three to a car, brooklyn bridge
You won't get far if you're privileged
--Joe Strummer
...
December 19, 2005
GOD REST YE MERRY GENTLEMEN
...it's a harsh truth we must all face up to at some point...
so I was away on vacation last week....caught a cold, took some stuff, lay low...came back to work, presents on my chair...I'll tell ya, one thing that sucks about being sober is when they start passing around the bottles of cheer this time of year, nary a drop of which will ever dandle upon my taste buds...I feel like sending around a memo or something--just send ZICAM.....
'cuz, like, who needs the sniffles?
...
December 16, 2005
WISHING WELL
... a reminder that I already got what I wanted for xmas this year ...
December 15, 2005
OUT ON THE TILES
...a vision of a bygone america...
...reflections in a funhouse mirror...
we once looked at this house....I almost bought it for the bathroom alone...just look at that tile...
...
December 13, 2005
BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE
...'tis the season to....adjust to the climate change...
...
December 10, 2005
December 08, 2005
SEE HOW WE ARE
October 9, 1940 – December 8, 1980
Never to bid good-bye
Or lip me the softest call,
Or utter a wish for a word, while I
Saw morning harden upon the wall,
Unmoved, unknowing
That your great going
Had place that moment, and altered all.
--Thomas Hardy
December 07, 2005
December 06, 2005
MESSAGE TO LOVE
...worth the $11? duh!...
let me put it this way: you either get it, or you don't. you're either buying the expensive stuff because you want to taste the coffee in your cup (because when bonnie goes shopping she buys shit), or you're not. you're either blues, or you're zippity-doo-dah.....(with apologies to both quentin tarantino & townes van zandt)....
you either feel the music of jimi hendrix as a soul-enhancing harmonicly inevitable musical syntax, or you're happily window-shopping along the throughfare of safe-as-milk bona fides...dave matthews, U2, coldplay, eminem, or any other blank statements available at your local audioplex. Jimi was mind-blowing back then, and still is today, provided that you wipe away the hippy cobwebs of preconception (the san fran scene, desperate to claim him as their own, was populated by a hairy-pitted monkey cuddle of musical lemmings and crashing bores...be ye unconfused by peace signs & leather fringes), and listen to it (as much as possible) as new music, view it (as much as possible) as a live performance, and understand that in that oeuvre of sound, there were exponential saxophones caterwauling against the finite membrane of a 27-year life, straining to get the information broadcast before the candle got snuffed. if you get it, you're already on-board, proceed to your local DVD monger...if you're on the fence, the new reissues are being turned out (thus far) with a quality control that bespeaks a mindset toward legacy, historical importance, and best of all-sonic fidelity....& if you're still zippity doo-dah, just go ahead and make some hot cocoa and put on a tony bennett record. and have a holly jolly whatever...
as per: ZOINKS! the entire woodstock set, with a bunch of extra stuff (I haven't even touched the second DVD yet) for the cost of a gourmet sandwich and cup of coffee? you'd be crazy not to acquire such a robust confection for that guitar enthusiast on your xmas list...
...
December 05, 2005
IN A SILENT WAY
...shhh / peaceful...
no inspiration for posts these past few days. none. been busy with home improvements, playing/recording with the still-unnamed trio, guitar building, guitar practicing, snow shoveling, mixing/mastering a score for a beaver-trapping how-to video (I shit you not) and of course the occasional intervening tasks of being a daddy (and yet I still manage to find time to participate in bloated corporate sleaze!)...it might just be pictures and abstractions for a few days...bear with me...or not...
actually, here's a recently-noted aberration in the molecular sense field....
..."I think the fact that I've crafted my personal logo from actual handwriting, speaks to the personal and intimate nature of my music...also, I wear a wig..."
michael angelo batio is an artist endorsee for dean guitars...I know this because video of his double-neck guitar playing style is currently available on comcast on-demand, free to subscribers, and when you watch it, he says, "my name is michael batio and I'm an artist endorsee for dean guitars." I highly recommend watching it. there isn't really a musical reason to watch, but it's fun to watch a man play two guitar necks simultaneously, while clenched in a facial contortion and posture that might suggest a pressing need for a colonoscopy. stat.
the music, which he claims is inspired by the playing style of eddie van halen (who also helped invent the internet), is more akin to that of renowned bird fancier yngwie malmsteen--pure wankery, but ah yes, two-handed wankery--and beyond that, a design sense straight from the Book of Derek Smalls...fave moment: nailing the harmony guitars from the big crescendo of "whipping post"...
...
December 01, 2005
I'M LOOKING THROUGH YOU
Go Greyhound
by Bob Hicok
A few hours after Des Moines
the toilet overflowed.
This wasn't the adventure it sounds.
I sat with a man whose tattoos
weighed more than I did.
He played Hendrix on mouth guitar.
His Electric Ladyland lips
weren't fast enough
and if pitch and melody
are the rudiments of music,
this was just
memory, a body nostalgic
for the touch of adored sound.
Hope's a smaller thing on a bus.
You hope a forgotten smoke consorts
with lint in the pocket of last
resort to be upwind
of the human condition, that the baby
sleeps
and when this never happens,
that she cries
with the lullaby meter of the sea.
We were swallowed by rhythm.
The ultra blond
who removed her wig and applied
fresh loops of duct tape
to her skull,
her companion who held a mirror
and popped his dentures
in and out of place,
the boy who cut stuffing
from the seat where his mother
should have been--
there was a little more sleep
in our thoughts,
it was easier to yield.
To what, exactly--
the suspicion that what we watch
watches back,
cornfields that stare at our hands,
downtowns
that hold us in their windows
through the night?
Or faith, strange to feel
in that zoo of manners.
I had drool on my shirt and breath
of the undead, a guy
dropped empty Buds on the floor
like gravity was born
to provide this service,
we were white and black trash
who'd come
in an outhouse on wheels and still
some had grown--
in touching the spirited shirts
on clotheslines,
after watching a sky of starlings
flow like cursive
over wheat--back into creatures
capable of a wish.
As we entered Arizona
I thought I smelled the ocean,
liked the lie of this
and closed my eyes
as shadows
puppeted against my lids.
We brought our failures with us,
their taste, their smell.
But the kid
who threw up in the back
pushed to the window anyway,
opened it
and let the wind clean his face,
screamed something
I couldn't make out
but agreed with
in shape, a sound I recognized
as everything I'd come so far
to give away.
...it had to be said...
sticks and stones -s- tick sands tones...
...
