Things. 2 of Them.

Thing 1--There are a host of possible ways to don a balaclava, as illustrated by the included photo:



Thing 2--I posted a free mix for download on the Plunder Guild website. Free songs for the coming spring and such. If you're so inclined, it's HERE

Saturday the 14th Eve

Ash and I normally take the time to celebrate Friday the 13th with a 'scary' movie and a night at home, and for this occasion we are throwing in a new element----unnerving shadow puppetry.

Last night we discovered that my Princeton Tech headlamp, when aimed just so at the ceiling, helps create the effect of stunningly realistic eyeball to accompany puppetry.

Some of our creepy favorites:

Fig 1: Three-eyed Jake

Fig 2: Jake (regular eyed)

Fig 3: Dr. Needlefish

Fig 4: The Grumpy Bunny



Fig 5: Clean Teeth McGee

Fig 6: Colonel Alonzo Pembrose

Two Double-Ought Ocho

What last year done brung...some things I found that had "nift."

Musically:


Santogold--This album got whored out majorly in 2008 to everyone making a commercial, it seems. But it stands to reason--it is that good, that catchy, that flat-out great. I appreciate this album because I can't pigeonhole it. I don't know what kind of music this is other than music I enjoy to hear playing loudly.
Santogold--Lights Out


Bon Iver "For Emma, Forever Ago." Yeah...I probably listened to this album more than any other. And if you haven't yet snagged a copy of this, you needs to. 2008 really wasn't all roses and ponies, and I think the mood of this album was just tailor made for the happenings of the year, at least for me. Instant gold.
Bon Iver--Flume

Bottomless Pit "Congress." Again, the remaining members of Silkworm combined with drummer Chris Manfrin to make an unrivaled 4 track EP that, I think, is still wrestling with the death of Mike Dalhquist (drummer of Silkworm), whose life was taken by a despondent driver bent on self-destruction. "People are frightening...when they don't got a reason to live"
Bottomless Pit-Fish Eyes

Cat Power "Jukebox." I openly crush on Chan Marshall--even Ash knows this. Chan can do no wrong, and this album is so much fun to listen to. It is really a cover album, but it is telling of Marshall's ability as a musician that my favorite track on here is her own (linked below).
Cat Power--Song to Bobby

Mogwai "The Hawk is Howling." Can't ever get away from my post-rock leanings, especially if Mogwai keeps putting out good albums. They seem to be deepening their bag-o-tricks...it isn't just 'crescendo into face melting rock' or 'play sad sad sad sad quiet'.
Mogwai--Thank You Space Expert

Sholi. Serious talent from the Bay Area--their short demo was, well, too short because it is incredible (includes an interesting remake of Joanna Newsome's "The Sprout and the Bean.") Some serious chops in this group, especially the drummer, who my cousin Wyatt reports is a joy to watch live.
Sholi--All That We Can See

Other winners from 2008 (also, if you haven't already, go to Bottomless Lakes or Frozen Banana or Tenbu for more free mp3 links--blogs on the side there)
Fleet Foxes--Blue Ridge Mountains --this song is glorious...euphoric...one of my favorites from 2008
Crystal Castles--Magic Spells
Sun Kil Moon--Heroin Blue (really wanted to link in "Lucky Man"..couldn't find it).
That is plenty on music...the blogs mentioned above have some grand link work that introduced me to some sounds I had missed...I suggest getting on it.
The Gaslight Anthem--Great Expectations --sometimes I appreciate a good hook. This group has hook...listen to this track once and lines will lodge in your skull. Sure, there is a little frat rock feel to some of it, but i like the broody angst and the bass line of this song particularly.

A few films from 2008 that i thought should have gotten far more play are these three here.

Son of Rambow. I was shocked with how much I dug this film--made me laugh hysterically in spots, hit me in the chest in others, a movie that I forgot I was watching...does that make sense? If anyone has seen this, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Man on Wire. I was sweating, trembling, ill just watching this. I don't think it is perfect, and I think the protagonist has some interesting hangups (Eiryn and I had uncannily similar grievances about this), but on the whole this is a top-drawer documentary.

The Visitor. I tend to enjoy movies that feature music as a transformative force, and this movie does that (and much more) but not in the mawkish August Rush vein. It has some serious depth and sadness, and it tends to interrogate some of the priveliges we take for granted.

This 2008-ish list is really lacking...but others have already highlighted the major players elsewhere. I am just getting tired of due diligence on the hyperlinks.

Bon Iver--Blood Bank

Anyone who is a fan probably already knows that Bon Iver's upcoming EP "Blood Bank" leaked a few weeks ago (official release is Jan 20th). I plan to actually buy the album when it comes out, but I have to confess that I followed the leak and yoinked the 4 tracks. I am interested in what people think about these songs, especially "Woods."

I am linking the mp3 posted by Bon Iver's label for others to snag, in case they haven't yet.

Song: Bon Iver--Blood Bank

Movie Quiz Answer Key

Long overdue...here they are. Instead of blogging about Christmas cheer here on the eve of the day that Christ wasn't born, I'll just watch my wife wrapping gifts and supply these. Enjoin.

1. Deliverance
2. Dr. Strangelove
3. Lock, Stock, Two Smoking Barrels
4. No Country for Old Men
5. The Wind that Shakes the Barley
6. Swingers
7. Thin Red Line
8. The Station Agent
9. Road to Perdition
10. The Elephant Man
11. Return to Oz
12. The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
13. The Pianist
14. American History X
15. Sleepers
16. In the Name of the Father
17. Badlands
18. Eraserhead
19. The Graduate
20. Children of Men
21. Raging Bull
22. Vanilla Sky
23. On the Waterfront

Darren and Beezer pretty much cleaned this one up...Zack provided a few also...I thought Gillz would make a forceful showing here, but no effort, Emily, really. We've drifted apart. You didn't even TRY.

This first attempt was a little too grandiose. I will do another installment with more variety...not so many dark and tragic films.

Movie Quiz--Film Stills

This idea is taken from Darren's blog ( http://frozenbanana57.blogspot.com/ ) because Darren is a trendsetter and fad-forger.

The concept is simple: look at the vidcaps below and tell me in the comments section what movie the picture comes from. To make this genuine, don't use Google or other such sites to search contextual clues, don't look at my Facebook profile (where most of these films are listed), don't read other comments before commenting yourself. I realize that these kinds of tests aren't simply about film savvy, but sometimes an understanding of the person posting--if we have ever talked about movies, you'll probably be able to figure all these out, even if you haven't seen a few of them.

None of these movies are overly obscure; most are popular and critically acclaimed.
Some of these are real softballs, some are intentionally difficult, there are a few that will surprise me if they are identified (I couldn't have done it). These stills represent some, but of course not all, of my favorite films. Let's see what you got...

Olfactory and the Moustache

as i regrow the obligatory winter stache, i am reminded that moustaches are like snowflakes--no two are exactly alike. the other glorious fact about the uniqueness of a moustache is that no two moustaches have the same smell.

"smell?" you might say.

"smell," i respond.

of the 5 moustaches i have grown in my life, each has had its own distinct scent, its subtle waft, a threshold essence, if you must. like the discernment of hops or grapes or fermentation by libations experts, detecting the smell stamp of your moustache is a high art.

some of my moustache smell detections:

-The softly musty Houndstooth jacket (with leather professor elbow patches) that somehow wandered into your hall closet--and will remain there forever.

-The frayed strands of an aged jute rope, most likely used to tow something that smelled slightly of freshly cut wood.

-A brown paper lunch bag factory (i'd imagine)

-A bark plant on fire

And the smell of this winter's moustache (so far my least favorite of all, and a scent that has me "perfuming" my moustache daily):

-Goretex gloves, put away wet in the spring, pulled back out for a snowball fight (very earthy with a hint of wool)

Random Mental Backwash

Bits and odds, for the few who still dip into these blog waters.

Section First: Overheard Partial Conversations From Small-Town Middle America
NOTE: I include these not to moralize or poke fun, but mainly because I was amused for some reason--either some unexpected regionalism, sentiment, quaintness...I really don't do this to say: come look at the freakshow of the Eastern midwest--although I don't agree in full with the subject, the style was compelling and each eavesdropped passage did invoke an audience that wasn't there (which I supplied in imagination as I am sure you will).

Overheard in the Depot Restaurant and Dairy Bar in Camden, OH--speaker was a grizzled man probably in his mid 40's, wearing a Carhart jacket and a red mesh trucker hat, and the solemnity of attitude is what I wish I could capture for you here: "Well Todd, it's just like it sez in the Bible. If there are gonna be people there speakin' in tongues and floppin' aroun', you gotta have an IN-TER-PRE-TER. I mean, for shit's sake..."

Same man, shortly after, upon arrival of his order of fried mushrooms: "Aww...hell yes. Shrooms. I could eat a dump truck full of these lil' bastards and I am crapping you negative."

Overheard in random antique store, Eaton, OH, spoken by a woman of probably 60 years in between drags on her Salem light: "...but he don't speak like a black boy. He just don't...(drag, methodical exhale)...Aw sure, he'll wear all the dangly stuff and crooked hats and he likes that thumpy music, but he'll still hold the door open and say 'please' and whatnot...(drag)...and I dunno Loretta, his voice just sounds, white..."

Overheard at a gas station in McGonigle, OH, spoken into a cell phone by a college-aged girl, most likely a student of Miami University: "And my GOD, now all of Amber's roommates have the same STD and their like--wha?"

Overheard in random guitar/antique store, West College Corner, OH, spoken by the store owner (around 50, long pony tail, stubble, deep gruff smoke voice) to a customer who had been silently strumming a Gretsch Electromatic: "We have a jam session ever' weekend. You otta come out 'n play. It'd be good fer you. A few weeks ago we were jammin an Edgar Winter tune fer 'bout an hour. I swore I was seein ghosts, it got so good. Who'd thought an albino could rock like that?" (if this one is lost on you, google Edgar Winter)


Section Second: Random Names Generated by Mark Clements and I via Cell Texts That Would Be Fitting Names for a Salvage Yard (I can't remember how it came up)

J.D. Salvanger's
the Salvage Detectives
Salvage Garden
The Plunder Years, starring Fred Salvage
"Hey, that's my bike"
Sal V. Ager's Craptorium
Junk and the Trunk
Rusty's
The Salvagtion Army

Part Third: The Reality of the Final Mix CD

Often, as a whimsical thought experiment, people may ask you what your favorite songs are (normally, as a way to transition into allowing them to tell you what their favorite songs are--probably what will be the upshot of this post, too), or perhaps they may ask you to POX (pick only ten [X]) songs. The classic desert island dilemma comes to mind--if you were to be banished to a desert island and could take one mix cd, what songs would go on it? Until now, this has been mere parlor talk--a fanciful and amusing mind exercise that has no bearing on the human situation (other than for those who will be relegated to a desert island but are still given ample time to prepare). But for me and my car, this situation has become reality. It is dire. Let me explain.

For the past year, I have watched the CD player in my car slowly lose its powers of ejection. It is covetous of all discs in its laser belly. It won't give them back. Eventually, the player will muster the stamina to eject the disc, but I have noticed that the interval between reception/rejection has grown exponentially. I have been charting it, really, and if my calculations are correct, the player won't give up the next disc I put in it for some 4 years. I do not kid. And I do not think that this car will still be running by then. Now, I have to add that the discs play just fine once they're in, but the bottom line is: whatever disc goes in there this time, play as it might, is NOT coming back out. So I have to make it good. Now, naysayers and smatterers might chime up and say "Well, Joe--just run your iPod through the radio. You can have an entire jukebox in your car." I know this, fools. I do. And I have all the necessary equipment. But the thing is: I love and adore the mixtape (cd). I love the concept, the artifact, the melange. I like to put a disc in there and have it come out with full fidelity without any FM static nonsense. I like to turn the volume beyond itself and let my marrow really jive with the sonic blasts. I like the cd.

So, it comes to this. The final cd, the swan song mix. As a mixtape veteran, I realize that most of my mixes push the 80 minute envelope and normally total about 17 songs. I am setting about to craft a mix that attempts to encapsulate not only my autobiographical musical history in large, but also tackles the various emotive responses that might be fitting/complementary to be heard while driving--experiencing the open wonder of the American road system. I challenge any reader here to put this thought experiment to use, with the realization that for me it has crossed over from the theoretical into the practical. What would you do? What would you put on the mix? As a text itself that can be read rhetorically, what do the selections on the cd say/reveal about you? I am not about to attempt to post my final mix just yet, but my next post will contain it, and maybe we can get some dialog boiling on this concept of casting yourself through a definitive mix cd. Get your thinkin' caps on.

Cross-eyed and Painless

Last December, Rob Wood, Sam Hawkins and I got together in the basement of an empty house to record some songs. These were songs that we regularly performed together (with Matt Zollinger and Andy Jacobsen) some ten years ago under the name Cross-eyed and Painless. Silly name maybe, since we were not at all a Talking Heads cover band.

I don't even know what kind of band we were, to be honest. It was eclectic, sure, and in hindsight, probably benignly pretentious--we made some lofty forays at multi-genre music. There was a real complication of sound from the band: Rob brought a definite folksy, CSNY/Pentatonic blues background to complement Sam's heavy Dub, Ska, and Punk influence. Zollinger was at the time awash in sort of drug-rock poetics of Morrison Hotel psych, the Cult, Pink Floyd, and lord knows what else (what everything else...Jacobsen too). I came to the band around the time that my prog nerdery was at full mast: I still thought E.L.P. were a wildly unappreciated band and I would be ready to go to the ropes in defense of Yes for even the slightest dig. Salad days, indeed. Mixed greens.

Anyhow, despite years of playing numerous shows between the Burg, I.F., Salt Lake City, etc., we never really had an artifact of our music to keep as indication of our time playing together. So, as mentioned, three of us got together and cut some songs. These songs were recorded in essentially two sessions, hastily, with Sam and Rob working on immediate post-production and then Rob painstakingly doing the mixdown in between work and law school. I did very little, save record some horribly shoddy drum tracks.

Rob sent me some copies of the final CD, all 13 songs, and I have to say it sounds great. I am very pleased. It is a polished sound that of course loses some of the rawness of live performance, but as a sort of C.A.P. period piece, it does well. It is always interesting to see what your modern sensibility imposes on the past, because I listen to some of these songs, and lyrically speaking, I blush. In context of who we were and what we deemed important, though, the songs are true. There are some peace-nick sentiments and mawkish adolescent wanderings, but there are contrastingly dark themes in there too--and in context of where we were at the time (ages 16, 17, 18), they are representative. To try to rewrite these songs with newer lyrics would be like reading pages of a journal from awkward years and rewriting the content based on what you now experience. They need to stand as they were.

So...two songs from our recording, posted mainly for some visitors of this blog who were with us during the C.A.P. days, and for those who are interested in a first listen.

This first song is a Sam song for the most part, one of our later additions. It is really just an upbeat Funk track with some abrupt time changes...becoming a sort of speed-waltz at times. I always liked to play this one live, because people would dance: C.A.P. "Uncontrolled"

This last song was always our favorite to play live, because it usually incited chaos. It is definitely multi-genre: a sort of jumpy blue-grass, hoe-down rawk tune with some psychobilly shades, and we would usually use it to close a show. One show, played on a flat bed trailer at the High School in St. Anthony, included a version of this song that went on for about 20 minutes while the crowd destroyed itself. My snare drum was soaked in blood. This song always "felt" punk when played live, and it really charged the air:
C.A.P. "Event Horizon"

I don't want to ask forgiveness for such a long-winded and self-indulgent blog entry. I shouldn't have to. I miss playing music live, and in the way I remember and revere those days, I might never again come closer to it than to type about it here.

The Wal-Mart Bags of East Jersey: An Ode

I am currently writing papers on Universal Design Theory, Quintillian, Rhodian rhetoric, and comparative philosophy. I am straining to further develop 3 separate scripts (film scripts), one of which I have had in the hopper for years. I am trying to think up a worthy proposal for a scholarship (some rhetorical aspect of the Brazilian MST movement), I am working two separate conference proposals, and desperately trying to blog and keep a personal journal. Imagine my surprise when I got bored writing, and especially writing about comparative rhetoric. Ironically, to alleviate the boredom (and as a result of not wanting to stand up and find something else to do), I did something I haven't done for years--forced myself to write a poem. It is below...its title is above.

“New Jersey is where all Wal-Mart bags on earth go to die.” Ben Barker

Why do you come here, en masse, flocking in countless
droves like dry jellyfish
to gather as one at the base of buildings bridges barricades,
to breathe as a unified plastic cloud?

Is it the urge to mate?
To glom on to a partner at the bottom
of a chain link fence
and shudder in ecstasy?

You are defying American expansion
creeping back across the fortune trail of the Midwest
stopping only to dip your flimsy handles in pools of water
traveling on, dreaming of the Garden State and the
gathering of friends that awaits you there.

Are you are drawn here to die
To this mysterious place, like an elephant boneyard?
Something innate, an unyielding magnetism, instinctual to plastics.
You, devoid of the contents you once carried,
your life sapped, your will flagging and sagging.

This place is your Mecca,
these fences your stone
you kiss and circle these back alleys and
are absolved of your failures, oh bags.

I like to think that this is how
our end will be:
all one roving mass of trash
socked in together
unable to tell one from the other
boasting of the good we once knew
and the purpose we once had.

This wind will fix our wandering.