Modern Kicks

tahitian! yeah!

The video quality stinks, but still, great stuff.  Wish there was a studio recording of this one.

I'll try to get something else up later.

the tepid heart

Geoff Edgers writes of failing to get tickets to see the Police, and indulges into a little Sting hate.  I haven't listened to them in ages, one reason among many I didn't bother to try.  Another reason?  First stadium concert attended: The Police, at Sullivan Stadium, as we called it at the time.  Opening acts, you ask?  The Fixx and A Flock of Seagulls.  With MTV playing in between acts, Martha Quinn and the video for "Mexican Radio."   No reunion tour is gonna top that.  I think it stands as the moment I was closest to the zeitgeist of my youth, topping going to see Ghostbusters in a packed theater the night it opened (we were trying to get to the Blue Öyster Cult show at Rocky Point, but got shut out and went to the movies instead.)

Anyway, Geoff links to a pretty good Slate piece on Sting, but The Onion does it better.

ouch

I wish I had more to say--in fact, I do have more to say, but can't get to it--but yeah, ouch.  Slipping on black ice ain't no fun at all.  Especially when the patch is so large that it's hard to reach a place where you can get footing again--I may be getting older, but I haven't yet prepared myself for an "I've fallen and I can't get up" moment.

But watching these heroic plastic bags makes it all a little better.  Remember to recycle, y'all.

this is what you wanted--here, dear, here it is

In my ongoing search for a decent way to feature some music-related content at right that doesn't involve recurring fiddling with the sidebar links, I've added a new feature below.  It's . . . a little embarrassing, and potentially too-revealing, but I'm going to give it a try.  iLike is yet another sort of social networking blah blah blah, this time revolving around music.  Their program adds a little sidebar to your iTunes player and uploads the contents of your music library (not everything, and you can limit access, but yeah, there's no possible security concern here at all.)  Then you can add a widget to your site, as I have below, that will feature the most recent songs you've played, and, if they have one (I don't know how this works), stream a portion of songs for listeners.

The positive side is that once the widgets installed, I don't have to do anything (and I can't have my firewall block the program if I don't want it uploading stuff.)  The downsides?  Well, I really want something more like LibraryThing's widget, with album art and the like.  And while the streaming audio is kind of cool, having only a portion of the songs is lame, especially as far too often it's the bridge or some other uncharacteristic part of the tune.  And then there's the display.  iLike seems to have been initially created with MySpace users in mind.  It shows.  That "Are we compatible????" question--I hate to have to actually say it, but if you have to ask, etc.  In general, I hate the actual social networking parts of any social networking service or site.  I just want the other stuff, without the people.  Who likes people?

But anyway, I'm pleased enough to find that Marvin Gaye's Here, My Dear record is in their database, and that the title song is currently on my list.  I don't think anyone would call the record, which often relies on anger to raise the music out of indifference, his best, but I do miss the gatefold album cover.  It would be so much better if they had the last thirty seconds of the track, though: Gaye uses all of his old doo-wop tricks to make sticking the knife in sound so sweet.  I was your baby, indeed.

"Here, My Dear" - Marvin Gaye

"I don't cry tears, I sing 'em"

Bad news, brought to you via the Gore Gore Girls:

Rock N Roll legend Question Mark of ? and The Mysterians lost his home to a fire January 9, 2007. Please go to www.96tears.net and give what you can.  Every bit helps, please donate whatever you can to a now homeless hitmaker and great person.

There's a video of him talking about the fire at the remains of his home on the website.  WFMU had more, back closer to when it happened.  But I'm sure ? would still welcome some help.

pictures from life's other side

Is it too late to say that I really meant to have a .mp3 blog?  Anyway, there are many reasons why I love the morning djs who do the Crosstracks program on WCUW.  The Wednesday morning guy, for instance, who pulls out the greatest and most obscure country and blues songs--and all of them dealing with divorce or bad ends to love affairs.  I think there's a story there.  Even on the other days, one always hears something not only totally idiosyncratic, but so perfectly appropriate, even at the early hour, that you just think, "Yeah, this is a Worcester kind of song."    Songs that get you ready for a long day and make a beer and a shot sound like a good end to it.  So two songs, the first one that I haven't heard them play (but expect to), another that I heard last week.  The first speaks to all those who earn their pay every day, while the second balances seedy and gentle just right, with lovely guitar playing making it all ok.  Oh, and for area readers, WCUW is a worthy cause and needs help--their transmitter's hurting and they're off the air right now.  So feel free to give a little.

Poverty - Bobby Bland

Third Rate Romance - The Amazing Rhythm Aces

now i wanna sniff some glue

I've felt a little guilty about not posting more recently, but really I'm just waiting for the art blogosphere to catch up with me: with Tyler discovering the Rijkswidget and Steve in recent weeks, I think I'm still ahead of the curve, baby.  So back to coasting for me.  Anyway, a new cd drive has allowed me finally to rip some recently acquired cds I had refrained from mentioning since I couldn't share.  In this case, two new ones that revisit, in different ways, old favorites: Sympathy for the Record Industry's compilation, Alright, This Time Just the Girls, Vol. II, and a compilation of singles, b-sides, and unreleased tracks by The Exploding Hearts, Shattered.

Sympathy's webpage may jokingly refer to it as "the most worthless and self-serving record label since Paisley Park," but the record indicates otherwise: I don't know of many indie labels that allow for as wide a range of styles without worrying about indie cred or any sort of consistent sound.  There's a definite LA sensibility, from the lowbrow album art (on this comp, by Camille Rose Garcia, the previous one by Mark Ryden) to the arty trash of bands like Candypants.  The first Alright, This Time . . ., a two cd set, was an eye-opener: not that it was all good--large chunks of it were spectacularly, hilariously bad--but the good stuff lead in all sorts of directions, from almost a half-dozen April March projects to Japanese garage rock to West Coast cuddlecore.  Nothing on the new cd breaks much new ground, or gets as entertainingly crazy as The Grown Ups' "Nick and Nick" from Vol. I, but it's still got a lot of good stuff.  Wanda Jackson, still going strong after all these years, contributes a smooth heartbroken ballad, Sympathy faves like the Muffs, the Chubbies, Lisa Marr (of Cub, and later, Buck) all make appearances.  There's a definite '90's sound to a lot of the tracks, which might not bode well for those looking for progress; for those not, there's plenty of retro garage/girl group stuff.  Below is one of my favorites, a great low-fi take on an old Nolan Strong song with a charmingly amateurish vocal by one of several Detroit bands on the comp (Rock City indeed--if only the Gore Gore Girls were on Sympathy.)

Longtime readers, fans of indie rock, and those who check out the top of the sidebar at right now that this site takes its name from a song by the Exploding Hearts, who released one record before a car accident killed all but one member of the band.  Shattered offers with love the bits and pieces left from their too-short career.  Given that much of it is material the band likely would not have chosen to feature had events been otherwise, it's not surprising that the record doesn't live up to the standard of the one they did release.  Several of the songs on the new disc are, in fact, different mixes or versions of songs on Guitar Romantic.  The one of "Modern Kicks" is not among the best, nor anywhere near as good as the standard recording.  Despite being almost note-for-note the same, it's slower, quieter, and generally less energetic or exciting.  Still, it's interesting for just that reason: it shows how smart they were, even at only 20 or 21, how carefully they were working at their music, and the intensity they brought to their best efforts.  Getting this little bit more of the picture only makes me wish harder that there could be more to come.

The Fondas - Yeah, Baby

The Exploding Hearts - Modern Kicks (alternate version)

rate your existence

On New Year's Day I had a conversation with my eldest brother in which he remarked that he didn't read blogs, that they're a waste of time.  The thing is, I like wasting time, always have.  Computers have allowed us to develop all sorts of new and wonderful ways to waste time, among which blogs rank high, so we can be lulled into inactivity while the same technology takes over our lives.  Along those lines, while it's not as good as LibraryThing for adding the pretense of meaning to empty days,  I've been getting to like Rate Your Music.  Not so into the actual rating of music, though I've done a little of that, it's just the opportunity to geek out on what records I own--mostly assembled so far from memory, as all my music remains packed at this point.  I'm also leaving out the stuff I know I own but am too embarrassed to acknowledge, in case they ever develop a widget as LT did.  Until then, there's still the very cool Visualize feature, so you can see all the wonderful covers.  The downside for me so far has been how the musical taste of others divides so neatly into that which one can't abide and the far too familiar.  Every white guy, aged 35-45, give or take, owns the same five Elvis Costello records, the same Tom Waits records, and so on, while then there are those whose collections might as well proclaim their owners to be my enemy.  The former I think may be worse, as they tempt me to indulge in the narcissicism of small differences, feeling proud that, while they may own the same Al Green records I do, very few of them have a copy of T. Valentine's Hello, Lucille . . . Are You a Lesbian?  Very few indeed.

blah

I had hoped to be back to a normal posting schedule this week, but problems with the connection to the internets seem to have doomed, or at least delayed, that.  In the meantime:

- The New York Review of Books on Brice Marden.

- Via James Tata, audio geeks and music industry people complaining, yet again, that .mp3s sound terrible.  My question: who cares?  When has that ever mattered?  Did people like these roll their eyes back in the day and bitch about how people listened to AM radios in their car?  Probably.  Didn't stop anyone, though--and smarter folks made sure their records sounded good coming over car radio speakers.

- Most of the poems I've read by Michael Fried are bad, and on a quick skim, this one doesn't seem to be one of the exceptions.  Still, better to be a failed artist than not to have tried.  Fried's also now sparing the reader some cringing moments by not writing so embarrassingly personal verse, and has learned that there are some virtues in direct language, even for poetry, so that's an improvement.  But I'm still not going to believe it's good.

- James Panero on Symbolism and modern art.  James has been writing a lot of stuff lately that I haven't had the time to read properly (internet problems again) or get my brain around, and this one is no exception.  It doesn't help that Symbolism is one of those topics that, once one starts to pull the thread, it never seems to stop.  Or to put it differently, it's such a broad and amorphous topic that it can seem to incorporate everything and nothing at the same time.  Still, worth checking out.

- I was looking at the most recent issue of Art New England yesterday and discovered that it had an article on online art publications and blogs.  The author had some well-deserved words of praise for Charles Giuliano and Big, Red & Shiny, among other sites, but was generally sceptical of the importance of anything sent through this series of tubes for art criticism and the art world as he knows it.  Which is fine, I don't much care either way.  And yet, you might ask, why no link?  Well, the article isn't online.  Evidently the good people at Art New England didn't think that a piece on the development of an online art press would be the sort of thing that people interested in reading about art online would be interested in.  There may be a lesson there, somewhere.

our swingin' pad

If you will indulge me: one of the worst parts of moving is that period after you're in but before the cable (let alone internet) has been hooked up.  Nothing this time compares to my last move, six years ago this past summer, when the only two stations we could get in with the rabbit ears were the local NBC and CBS affiliates.  Night after night they were showing nothing but season one of Big Brother and the Olympics, respectively.  Yup, nothing to choose between but "Chicken" George losing his shit or gymnastics, every freaking evening.  God, I hate reality tv and the Olympics.

Like I said, nothing that bad this time, though enough to make me feel grateful when one of the Law and Order franchises came on, even the skeevy Law and Ordern: Snuff Films Unit or whatever it is.  Stuff like that at least was better than the non-stop crap CBS shows.  I was sort of dimly aware of this, but a few days watching brought it home more clearly: CBS targets the stupid demographic.  How else to explain something like Vegas?  The mix of storylines, some lighter, even attempting humor, while the main arc deals with a straightforward action scenario, wasn't exactly unfamiliar--it's pretty much standard fare.  Perhaps it's the stress of trying to combine both a boosterish view of Las Vegas as a family destination and Sin City that makes the show so bad.  Vegas, the town where they'll do their darnedest to see you have a good time--unless you cross them, then they'll whack you The Vanishing-style.  A problem of tone, if you will.  My favorite sub-plot, however, involved a Buddhist monk visiting the casino to teach a member of the staff that only by losing everything could one hope to begin to find happiness.  Someone I don't think that's a lesson the real Vegas usually teaches, but would probably like to.  Thanks, I think I'll just stay home.

Jonathan Richman - Our Swingin' Pad