Friday, February 25, 2005

The Kentucky Embassy in NYC



In New York? From Kentucky? Leave a comment here to get together for the big games. Next up, Kentucky at Alabama -- tomorrow, Feb. 26. Alabama coming off an upset from LSU and playing at home. This one won't be easy.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

The Pavement Tribute Crane

Monday, February 21, 2005

Fear and Loathing in DanVegas

Ralph Steadman's rendering of HST's intended death monument, planned with a central cannon to fire his ashes over the hills, but without the second opposing thumb that HST sketched in moments after presenting the plans to the monument maker.

Los Angeles, CA, 1978

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Real sanity in your gut, real calamity never in a rut

MF Doom, in the newest Wire magazine issue, unabridged interviewed by Hua Hsu, excerpt:



Q ~ Why do you have so many characters? Doom is confusing enough, but you also have Geedorah, Vik and Zev.

A ~ I look at it like this. I'm an author, it just so happens what I write is in rhythmic form, and it's over music. So for me to get different points across, just like an author would in a novel, I come with different characters. Now that author is writing from each character's point of view, but he's not the particular character. In hip-hop it's the same thing. We get kinda confused, I think we limit ourselves with the whole "I'm the guy" kind of thing. Like I-this, You-that. In hip-hop you're the guy. It's too much responsibility - you don't want to be that guy. The Villain is a guy that transcends me personally - he can do shit that I can't do. So I'm like, if hip-hop is all about bragging and boasting, then I'm going to make the illest character - he can brag about all kinds of shit. Like why not? It's all your imagination? Go as far as you want.

So in that, I'm like okay, if that's the case, then I can make multiple characters, and they can even have conflicting views, so you get around the whole thing of people trying to categorize you, a typecast-kinda thing, where if you change your mind. We're growing up as all this is going on - we're going to change our minds. The public looks at that and is like, Oh he's contradicting himself. When you got multiple characters you never contradict yourself. Have another character come with another point of view.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

The Whig's Heart-Burning



From Ulysses S. Grant, "Personal Memoirs"

"About half my school-days in Georgetown were spent at the school of John D. White, a North Carolinian, and the father of Chilton White who represented the district in Congress for one term during the rebellion. Mr. White was always a Democrat in politics, and Chilton followed his father. He had two older brothers—all three being school-mates of mine at their father’s school—who did not go the same way. The second brother died before the rebellion began; he was a Whig, and afterwards a Republican. His oldest brother was a Republican and brave soldier during the rebellion. Chilton is reported as having told of an earlier horse-trade of mine. As he told the story, there was a Mr. Ralston living within a few miles of the village, who owned a colt which I very much wanted. My father had offered twenty dollars for it, but Ralston wanted twenty-five. I was so anxious to have the colt, that after the owner left, I begged to be allowed to take him at the price demanded. My father yielded, but said twenty dollars was all the horse was worth, and told me to offer that price; if it was not accepted I was to offer twenty-two and a half, and if that would not get him, to give the twenty-five. I at once mounted a horse and went for the colt. When I got to Mr. Ralston’s house, I said to him: “ Papa says I may offer you twenty dollars for the colt, but if you won’t take that, I am to offer twenty-two and a half, and if you won’t take that, to give you twenty-five.” It would not require a Connecticut man to guess the price finally agreed upon. This story is nearly true. I certainly showed very plainly that I had come for the colt and meant to have him. I could not have been over eight years old at the time. This transaction caused me great heart-burning. The story got out among the boys of the village, and it was a long time before I heard the last of it. Boys enjoy the misery of their companions, at least village boys in that day did, and in later life I have found that all adults are not free from the peculiarity. I kept the horse until he was four years old, when he went blind, and I sold him for twenty dollars. When I went to Maysville to school, in 1836, at the age of fourteen, I recognized my colt as one of the blind horses working on the tread-wheel of the ferry-boat."

Sunday, February 13, 2005

Live Blogging: It's Already Over



11pm. Grammys this year, so far doing good. I always approach them with some dread because I: a) assume they're going to suck and b) always watch them. But then there are always good moments. So far this year we've had Kanye West in his insane vanity fantasia complete with him ascending to the pulpit on a pair of great white Angels In America wings; "Across The Universe," downloadable for a donation to tsunami relief, played by Velvet Revolver (Slash on electric 12-string) and gang sung We Are The World star-style with Stevie Wonder playing a sick harmonica solo; and Usher STUNNING with his maniacally relaxed Fred Astaire laser dancing, mind activated control of the mic stand and dripping sexual charisma that could turn a straight man queerer than a steer with eight assholes.

Grammy '05 Fun Fact! Did you know Laura Branigan died this year?

Bonnie Raitt kicks ass doing Ray Charles tribute and plays a gorgeous slide solo to the backing of a simple B-3 played by a rather (unintentionally?) surreal Ray Charles look-alike and play-alike.

Joss Stone tears another pointless hole in the rag that is "Take Another Little Piece Of My Heart." Why were they doing a Janis Joplin tribute? Did she die this year?

Here's a fun memory from last year's Grammys that apparently really got somebody's goat!

Did I mention I missed half the show? Would like to have seen Jamie Foxx playing "Georgia On My Mind." Also missed Gwen Stefani doing her ska kabuki workout tape.

But I did see Loretta Lynn win best country album despite zero play on "country" radio, a point Jack White reminded everyone of in his acceptance. That country legends are ignored in mass media by everyone but blue-state NPRites is richly illustrative of our continental drift over the last 30 years. But on with the shoe: Loretta showed up my knee-jerk grumpiness and extended her hand across the aisle to graciously tell Faith Hill that she was in love with Faith's husband Tim McGraw who just before Loretta's win belted out his funeral home anthem "Live Like You Were Dying," a grimly smarmy ballad that, when sung beneath the tortured brim of his CMA Standard Issue Black Cowboy Hat (the enormo version), turned Tim into the Grim Reaper that Chooses To Shop At Sam's Club. Loretta also told Jack to speak closer to the microphone and he said, "Yes ma'am" with real obedience. I think these two should marry. And she should take him to Fist City.

Queen Latifah '05 closes out the show proclaiming "ONE LOVE (that's all you get)!"

Thursday, February 10, 2005

Different aspects of life... Blue Flowers!

In this week's In-The-Clubs listing, "The New Yorker" lists a Kool Keith show at B.B. King's Blues Club, describing the style of this "underground Bronx rapper" as "lyrically surreal" and "Joycean."



One wonders if any unsuspecting Bloom-obsessives who fancy themselves culturally adventurous are about to get their shit blown.

Saturday, February 05, 2005

The Flesh

The bad thing about seeing shows in New York is that all the shitty opening bands are very competent. You never get the bonus of amateurism.



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Here's a "best-of-craigslist" entry that'll make you laugh so hard you'll hork. Thanks to Big Jilm.

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This is cybersex chat room sneak attack that will make you laugh so hard you'll throw a sickie. I stole this from Hua Hsu's blog.

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I've almost finished this great new Willem de Kooning biography. With the information contained therein I went today to see the building where he rented his studio in the late fifties/early sixties at 88 E. 10th St. The storefront was empty, said "For Lease." I thought, "Hm. Maybe I will move in." I wonder if anyone living above the storefront in the studio knows that it's de Kooning's old throne? I certainly did enjoy standing out there this evening and staring from across the street.

Friday, February 04, 2005

The White Whale of Terrorism

In Chapter One of Moby-Dick, Ishmael ruminates about the importance of going to sea. In his mind, he sees this as no minor task. In fact, he sees it as a major world event and crams it between two "headlines" which have such similarities to the 2000 presidential election and subsequent war on terror, that it is so frightening that there's no need to even freak out. Freaking out will only make it worse, and you can't stand it being any stranger.



(note to serious Melvillians: Sorry about this book cover. I couldn't find an image that had both interesting cover art and the book's correct spelling "Moby-Dick." Sorry, I had to opt for a better picture than having the properly placed hyphen.)

From the text of Chapter One, LOOMINGS:

And, doubtless, my going on this whaling voyage, formed part of the grand programme of Providence that was drawn up a long time ago. It came in as a sort of brief interlude and solo between more extensive performances. I take it that this part of the bill must have run something like this:

Grand Contested Election for the Presidency of the United States
Whaling Voyage by one Ishmael
BLOODY BATTLE IN AFFGHANISTAN

Though I cannot tell why it was exactly that those stage managers, the Fates, put me down for this shabby part of a whaling voyage, when others were set down for magnificent parts in high tragedies, and short and easy parts in genteel comedies, and jolly parts in farces - though I cannot tell why this was exactly; yet, now that I recall all the circumstances, I think I can see a little into the springs and motives which being cunningly presented to me under various disguises, induced me to set about performing the part I did, besides cajoling me into the delusion that it was a choice resulting from my own unbiased freewill and discriminating judgment. Chief among these motives was the overwhelming idea of the great whale himself.

*********

If all this wasn't freaky enough, someone went all "Bible Code" on Melville and came up with this dumb shit:



However, here is a relatively reasonable essay on the topic, reading The Whale as a warning against an aggressive American war on terror: America as Ahab; the WTC attack as Ahab's leg; the white whale as terrorism, etc. Cooney makes a great point comparing Ishmael's voyage to one originally meant for financial gain perverted into an exercise in vengence, much like America's world alliances.

But he loses me when he compares first mate Starbuck to Pakistan. What? Starbuck was a Christian. Anyway, here's that link:

http://www.counterpunch.org/cooney1.html

Oh, and hey... remember when Clint posted this kid:

Thursday, February 03, 2005

Car Crash Decisions



The excitement of music is back.

Crain

suddenly appeared in my life sometime in 1992. I had heard a little about them, but not too much, so mystery there. They were playing at the Wrocklage in Lexington with a whole slew of good bands, Pitchblende one of them (check the first album Kill The Atom Smasher), but I had heard them and not Crain, so Crain is who I wanted to hear. Plus they were from Louisville, that other town that seemed to have real bands that were for real.

I bet it was all-ages probably about 8pm on a Sunday night, which is usually the most depressing time of the year, but O the Wrocklage made it a magical time. Liminal, even.

Then there was a Crainstorm. Tim Furnish (I think it was Tim Furnish, not Joe Mudd, but I don't finally know) striking heavy on a beautiful, shiny red telecaster, the kind I had mostly seen only played on Hee-Haw, he was dressed like a natty farm boy, with an innocent, tasteful trucker's cap, but he was fucking hard as nails. I can't remember the bass (Jason Hayden) but the drummer looked real young. This Will Chatham turned out to be the best drummer out of all their lineups. And Jon Cook delivered the songs with much hair and real brained-out asssurance.

They played song after song of heavy, nervous and soaring stuff and I had never knew riveting like this. The LP that came out right around that time,

Speed

is being reissued on April 5, 2005 by Temporary Residence Limited with four unreleased bonus tracks recorded not long after Speed. You can download three songs (2 from the album, 1 bonus) with a little donation of your choice through PayPal. This is one of your great lost Southern rock records and I will be glad to have a backup of my worn out cassette.

If the Slint tour has coattails, Jon Cook should saddle up and ride.



Update: After some research, it becomes clear that I don't really know who was in the band when I saw them. So just cut us some slack and let's move on. I'm almost positive it was Jon Cook as singer. Apparently he wasn't even on the Speed record, though they played the Speed songs. Which just makes it all even more impressive. And I have no idea who Joey Mudd is. But good job, Joey.

This is for you, John






And the clincher: