ROCK OF AGES

Happy birthday Tom!

WHO'S GOT THE 10 MINUTES?

The other day, brain coral mentioned his general distaste for songs over 10 minutes long.

It was in the context of his recent purchase of the new disc from Deerhoof, which ends with an 11 minute track. He expected to hate it...

Well, he’s confirmed that the Deerhoof song pretty much sucks, and I admit that I share his lack of surprise.

(I really liked The Runners Four, and I suspect the rest of this one is probably pretty great, so I’m going to pick it up as well. And probably never listen to that one track.)

This led me to wonder what my iPod looks like in its current state, in regard to songs over the 10 minute mark.

Not counting suite-type stuff like Godspeed You Black Emperor! or Pure Phase by Spritualized, here’s my list of seam stretchers, from longest to “shortest”:

DJed, Tortoise
Jenny Ondioline, Stereolab
Night Falls On Hoboken, Yo La Tengo
Refractions In The Plastic Pulse, Stereolab
Sister Ray, The Velvet Underground
1/1, Brian Eno
Cop Shoot Cop, Spiritualized
Track Goes By, The High Llamas
Pree-Sisters Swallowing A Donkey's Eye, Neutral Milk Hotel
Debra, Beck
"Animal or Vegetable (A Wonderful Wooden Reason...)", Stereolab
Sailing By, Ronald Binge
Soop Groove #1, Stereolab
1/2, Brian Eno
The Story Of Yo La Tengo, Yo La Tengo
The End, The Doors
Blue Milk, Stereolab
Static/Diamond Bollocks, Beck
Sad Eyed Lady Of The Lowlands, Bob Dylan
Marquee Moon, Television
Pass The Hatchet, I Think I'm Goodkind, Yo La Tengo
Spec Bebop, Yo La Tengo
Trainspotting, Primal Scream
Won't Get To Heaven (The State I'm In), Spritualized
Soup, CAN
Do I Do, Stevie Wonder
Viðrar vel til loftárása, Sigur Rós
Hallogallo, Neu!
Svefn-g-englar, Sigur Rós

WE'RE ALL BOZOS ON THIS ARQUEBUS

Nights in White Satin by The Moody Blues (oh crap, I lost you already, didn't I?) was a nicely overwrought piece of overorchestrated hippie fluff. The Late Lament, that little poem tacked onto the end, pushed the needle way into ludicrous.

“A new mother picks up and suckles her son”-- sheesh.

But, lo, this morning I heard Departure, the little piece that segues into Ride My Seesaw (which-- full disclosure-- is a pretty cool song), and it takes things to a whole different level.

“Or the strength of an arquebus deep in the ground”...

To which I say, “What?”

Or, more properly, “What the fuck?”

I know it's of no consequence to us the living, but my mind was considerably blown nonetheless.

I gained some much-needed grounding this evening on the links page of a Moody Blues fansite, where I found myself one click away from “your one-stop source for custom embroidered bandanas.”

As I pondered the connection between the band and the bandanas, I read a little further, and hit the epiphanic moment:

“Everybody loves bandanas!”

This, then, is my new mantra. For I know it to be true...

Everybody loves bandanas!

G-O-T to the H-I-C

I am not a Goth.

I have never worn black nail polish.

I have never worn black lipstick.

I did, however, download Specimen’s Returning From a Journey from the iTunes last night. (Which for some reason called it Returnung From a Journey.)

What an awesome song.

It’s got this damn-near headbanger beat cut with a little disco, and a chorus that’s as fat as a summer plum.

I listened to it like five straight times last night, and had to suppress the urge to shout “Yeaaahhhh!” at the top of my lungs each time it was over.

Sweet Bela Lugosi’s beard!

But I am not a Goth.

KANDER CAMERA

All this talk of Germany has stirred in me memories of my childhood dream to write for the musical theater.

I sketched out a piece called Germania! (you know, like Beatlemania!) back when I was 12 or so.

The milieu is the decadent final days of the Weimar Republic, and the story revolves around the relationship between a bohemian performer and a possibly gay writer.

A lot of the action takes place in this club, where there’s this wry and knowing master of ceremonies. He serves as sort of a Greek chorus for the whole thing, and... huh? There’s a...? Caber-what?

Son of a monkey bitch...

VERSCHWORUNG

The latest CD that wouldn't rip? Doolittle, by The Pixies.

Now, as everyone knows, this album was named after James Doolittle, who as a Lt. Colonel led the famous "Doolittle raid" on Japan in the early stages of America's involvement in WWII.

Doolittle rode the PR wave of these raids to eventually become a Lt. General in the European Theater. His most noteworthy tactical move in this role was his decision to allow bomber escort planes to attack enemy airfields. And who was that enemy? That's right... the Germans.

And so our eerie conspiracy continues apace.

Looking at the stack of discs I have in front of me tonight, I'm thinking Iggy Pop's Lust for Life (recorded in Berlin) is pretty much guaranteed to lock up...

A LAND OF CHOCOLATE

In my ongoing quest to fill the iPod, I run into the occasional disc that iTunes obstinately refuses to rip.

Here's the list to date:

Car Wheels on a Gravel Road, Lucinda Williams
Achtung Baby, U2
The Gift, The Jam
Source Tags & Codes, ...And You Will Know Us By the Trail of Dead

At first I figured it was just random, maybe some arcane commonality in the manufacturing process that discouraged ripping. But then I thought about it a little more...

It helps to know first off that The Jam CD is an import that was made in Germany.

Next, it's a little known fact that the word “Achtung” is actually German. I believe a rough translation is “Gee, the view from up here on the precipice of a career slide sure is pretty. And postmodern, too. Yeah, very postmodern.”

After zero research and much speculation, I have decided that Lucinda Williams probably maybe has some German ancestry.

Finally, no doubt some critic somewhere has used the term “Germanic” as shorthand to describe ...AYWKUBTTOD's icy and aggressive soundscapes.

The conclusion, then, is clear and stunning: iTunes hates the Germans.

Oh sure, it humored me by taking care of my Neu! discs, but I'm betting that Tago Mago is pretty much doomed...

PHILOSOPHY OF THE WORLD

Another shower, another song...

WHO IS DROPPING PANS ON THE LITTLE ROBOT’S HEAD?

I’ll dress up like a frog for you,
I’ll dress up like a ghost.
I’ll climb up every ladder for you,
And pick up all your trash.

Oh, if you’re sitting in a corner
Crying ‘bout your mom and dad,
I’ll hand you a green green ring
To twirl around your arm.

There’s not a wrapper or a can or a crumb
That I won’t come upon
And sweep up with my heart.

No, there’s not a wrapper or a can or a crumb
That I won’t come upon
And sweep up with my heart.

I’ll make all the pirates and gurus smile,
So they won’t steal your change.
I’ll take your daddy’s toothbrush out
And clean up all the stains.

Oh, I’ll solve the final mystery
Out on my last patrol,
Then contract into a dot of light,
Forever on your console.

There’s not a wrapper or a can or a crumb
That I won’t come upon
And sweep up with my heart.

No, there’s not a wrapper or a can or a crumb
That I won’t come upon
And sweep up with my heart.

AND IF THEY SHOULD BAR WARS...

Song of the day: Star Wars Theme/Cantina Band (12” mix), Meco

Star Wars was the first movie I ever went to see alone. I rode a few miles on my banana-seated bike in a late-spring rain to the Manetto Hill Twin.

I was pretty much awestruck, right from the opening scroll.

When it was over, I sat through the end of the credits, fished a few wrinkled dollar bills from my pocket, went to the box office, and bought a ticket for the very next show.

The movie had opened exactly one week after my father died, and in retrospect it’s no surprise that so many of the themes resonated like a hammered bell.

I saw the movie a good 20 times in the theater over the course of that summer.

And I came out of the summer with little to nothing in the way of Star Wars ephemera.

No cards, no action figures, no die-cast Millennium Falcons, no lunch boxes, no light sabers, no board games, no comic books, no Halloween costumes.

All I carried was gratitude at having been transported from a suburban home thick with grief, guilt, and shame, to a galaxy far, far away...

NEW YAWK, NEW YAWK

The first time my wife heard You Can’t Put Your Arms Around a Memory, she was convinced that Johnny Thunders was singing “You can’t pajama ‘round a memory.”

Well dear, you can pajama ‘round me any old time you want.

Happy Anniversary!

WHEN DOVE CRIES

Look, it's another one of those songs from the shower that today's kids love so much...

MOTORIKY

(2, 3, 4)

This is a song.
It’s two minutes and thirty-four seconds long.
It doesn’t have a chorus
But
It’s
Got
A ton of love.

This is a song.
It’s two minutes and thirty-four seconds long.
It doesn’t have a chorus
But
It’s
Got
A ton of love.

A ton of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a tunnel of love, a ton of love, a tunnel of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a tunnel of love, a tunnel of love, a tunnel of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a tunnel of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a ton of love, a tunnel of love, a tunnel of love, a ton of love, a tunnel of love, a ton of love, a tunnel of love, a ton of love, a tunnel of love, a ton of love...

ARLO, FOLK SONGS ARE SERIOUS

Another in our series of songs you've never heard, this one from back in 1988 or thereabouts...

BURNING TIRES, BURNING HAY

I went out singly to open the fence
That kept me from being where I was meant.
I pulled off a board, I pried off one more,
And I sat in the glow coming through.

Burning tires, burning hay
We are bringing in the water with the corn today.

I shimmied through the hole I had made,
Sucked in my stomach, slim as a blade.
Was borne to the rain, falling so white and plain,
And I sat in the puddles it formed.

Burning tires, burning hay
We are bringing in the water with the corn today.

What I looked on was neither a kingdom nor jail,
And no beaten signs read “Heaven” or “Hell.”
No high trumpets rang, no low bells did clang,
And the wicked and good were not ‘round.

Burning tires, burning hay
We are bringing in the water with the corn today.

LA NANO

So what became of the Nano? Let’s just say it fell into good hands.

The hands of someone who woke up this morning about an hour before her usual waking time, sat in the corner of her bedroom next to the forced-heating vent, and, through eyes squinty in the dark, navigated the click wheel to find Fox on the Run or Cherchez la Femme or the theme from the most-recent Japanese Pokemon movie.

Good hands. Good hands.

LA LUNE EST LIBRE

Tonight's iPod ripping: all Stereolab all the time!

Well, I did make some room for side projects and off shoots like Turn On, Monade, Snowpony, Uilab, Cherry Cigar, Ankle Whimsy, Doktoor Kilnfish, Mock, Slabitslabitgrabitnowhitit, Bonger, Liberte/Egalite/Frente, Shampooo, Onan Trespass Mark II, Aquaggaswhack, Esso 67, and Cinque Cool Whip...

BABY BUBBA

Hit a random vein of mid 90s as I was ripping for the 30 gig tonight: Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot, Trainspotting, Post, Millions Now Living Will Never Die, Sacrebleu, Let's Knife, Portishead, To Bring You My Love, Cold and Bouncy.

I wonder where Bill Clinton is sleeping tonight...

CAN IT BE THAT IT WAS ALL SO SIMPLE THEN?

Now normally, aging another year erodes my available memory. Brain cells do their dance of death, and I stand on the elevator and wonder which button to push.

But in an ironic twist, this year's birthday brought a quindecupling of memory.

So it came in the form of an upgrade from a 2GB Nano to a 30GB iPod. Beggars can't be something something...

"Feed me, feed me," it purrs, and I obey.

LISTING

Some of my favorite musical moments from 2006 (and forgive me if some of them are your favorite moments from 2005, or 2001, or 1998):

-To Go Home, M. Ward
-The quarter second at the beginning of Wolf Parade’s Shine a Light where you think it’s going to be Get Back. And yes, I timed it.
-A good half of The Life Pursuit.
-I’m Waking Up to Us, Belle and Sebastian. I finally downloaded this, and it’s damn near the best thing they’ve ever done. Bitter, blunt, and sweeping.
-Yo La Tengo’s I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass, for the title. I expect it might show up on my 2007 list for the music.
-A Pillar of Salt, The Thermals
-Lloyd, I’m Ready to Be Heartbroken, Camera Obscura
-The three hours I spent in Tower Shibuya.
-The 30 hours I spent in various USA Towers, watching them die.
-Belle and Sebastian (2X), Stereolab, and The Pogues, with brain coral. Plus, The New Pornographers, Ted Leo, and Broken Social Scene, beyond the headliners.
-Wolf Like Me, TV on the Radio
-The “New York Dolls” making a “comeback” in fishnets and quotation marks.
-The Jam’s performance of ‘A’ Bomb in Wardour Street from the Old Grey Whistle Test, Vol 3 DVD. I still don’t know how Paul Weller could sing and chew gum at the same time.
-Record Collector magazine
-In the Aeroplane Over the Sea, Neutral Milk Hotel. Any discussion of my 2006 year in music needs to end with my full-on discovery of this, something I had for years dismissed unheard as ephemeral neopsych. I can’t even begin to tell you how wrong I was. There are rare albums that are profoundly moving, profoundly funny, profoundly unhinged, profoundly bad, profoundly sad, and/or profoundly unfounded. This might be the first album I’ve encountered that is quite simply profound.

A SIMPLE PROP

Last night while my daughter was squeezing her long hair dry with a towel after her shower, she suddenly started singing “Fiyehehahh!”

I blinked a few times, and then remembered that I had left a copy of Eponymous in the Odyssey. She was singing The One I Love.

“Why does he say ‘fire’ daddy?” she wondered, dropping the towel in a damp heap. I asked her what she thought.

“I think he’s angry,” she offered, rocking on the balls of her feet. She threw her hands behind her back to catch herself as she fell against the wall.

“I think you’re exactly right.” She gave me a stinging high five and collapsed in my lap, laughing at the very idea…

POPTONES

I switched cell-phone carriers last month, and got in the bargain three free ring tones.

The available selection is just random and weird, but I found three keepers:

Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots, Pt 1— The Flaming Lips
Ping Pong— Stereolab
Wouldn’t It Be Nice— The Beach Boys

And now I love it when my phone rings.

I use my wife’s phone to call myself all the time, just to hear my tones.

It’s the little things, don’t you know…