CHIMPAN-A TO CHIMPANZEE
Tiny random thoughts on a Friday afternoon.
-You can do worse when driving straight into a blinding sun on the Beltway than listen to Wig Wam Bam by Sweet.
-Headline from today’s Post: For First Time, Chimps Seen Making Weapons for Hunting. We’re doomed, folks. Flat out doomed.
-Also in today’s Post, macrocephalic Family Circus girl to grandma: “Do caterpillars know they’re going to be butterflies, or does God surprise them?” Again people— utterly fucking doomed.
-But I can at least amuse myself with the notion that there will one day be a chimp Britney. I am pleased by this mental picture.
-Hope There’s Someone by Antony and the Johnsons is a tragic and beautiful thing. But I’ll be damned if I can find a way into the rest of the disc. Does that make me a bad person?
-Would Apeman have been a bigger hit for The Kinks if Ray had not insisted on slurring that “The air pollution is a-foggin’ up my eyes” so that it sounds exactly like “The air pollution is fuckin’ up my eyes”?
-Speaking of The Kinks, the liner notes (by John Mendelsohn) to The Kink Kronikles are one of the few must reads in the whole genre. Definitely worth the squint to read in CD-booklet form.
-The most absurd liner notes I’ve ever seen in CD form are the list of credits for The Avalanches Since I Left You. One day, our chimp masters will mock us for sure…
Friday, February 23, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Thursday, February 15, 2007
LOVE OF INDICATIONS, PARTS 1, 2, AND 3
I wrote this on the drive home tonight.
JOHNNY RAMONE
Have you seen this band The Thompson Twins?
They're not even twins.
All this British shit,
All this British shit.
It's not like when we were kids,
With Spencer Davis and T Rex,
Spencer Davis and T Rex.
This is a '66 Topps Willie Mays,
And it's in mint condition
It's hard to find in mint condition.
It's hard to find in mint condition
Because it's number 1 in the series,
And number 1's tend to get damaged
By rubber bands,
Yeah, rubber bands.
And it's unusual for the number 1 card
To be a star
In the 60s.
Usually number 1's are league leaders.
Yeah, league leaders.
I bought it at a Gloria Rothstein show
In White Plains,
Yeah, White Plains.
And Subterranean Jungle is up to 83
On the Billboard charts.
Yeah, 83.
83, 83, 83, 83,
83, 83, 83, 83...
I wrote this on the drive home tonight.
JOHNNY RAMONE
Have you seen this band The Thompson Twins?
They're not even twins.
All this British shit,
All this British shit.
It's not like when we were kids,
With Spencer Davis and T Rex,
Spencer Davis and T Rex.
This is a '66 Topps Willie Mays,
And it's in mint condition
It's hard to find in mint condition.
It's hard to find in mint condition
Because it's number 1 in the series,
And number 1's tend to get damaged
By rubber bands,
Yeah, rubber bands.
And it's unusual for the number 1 card
To be a star
In the 60s.
Usually number 1's are league leaders.
Yeah, league leaders.
I bought it at a Gloria Rothstein show
In White Plains,
Yeah, White Plains.
And Subterranean Jungle is up to 83
On the Billboard charts.
Yeah, 83.
83, 83, 83, 83,
83, 83, 83, 83...
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
INDICATIONS OF LOVE, PART 2
My wife would prefer it if I were still a practicing punk.
She’d like the Pogues to pogo off the living-room walls, Nirvana to grace the Odyssey, The Clash to rattle the kitchen...
I mean it, man!
I don’t think it’s about aesthetics. I think she just finds the mutability of my passions to be a little disconcerting.
It’s as if life would hold one less little puzzle for her if my musical taste had ossified the moment we met. If my passions could have remained fixed...
But they have, dear. They have.
My wife would prefer it if I were still a practicing punk.
She’d like the Pogues to pogo off the living-room walls, Nirvana to grace the Odyssey, The Clash to rattle the kitchen...
I mean it, man!
I don’t think it’s about aesthetics. I think she just finds the mutability of my passions to be a little disconcerting.
It’s as if life would hold one less little puzzle for her if my musical taste had ossified the moment we met. If my passions could have remained fixed...
But they have, dear. They have.
Monday, February 12, 2007
INDICATIONS OF LOVE, PART 1
We went to a birthday party for a couple of kids yesterday. It was at a gymnastics studio.
My wife and I were sitting on a folded tumbling mat, and over the PA came Funkytown.
About 10 or 12 feet away from us, a couple of dads entered into a conversation.
“Man, this is an oldie. I’m embarrassed to even say that I know it.”
“Yeah, me too. When did this come out, like 1982?”
“Mmm, 1982, uh-huh. Can’t remember who did it.”
One of them grabbed a large, nubby sky-blue ball, and began bouncing it. The other drifted over to the parallel bar, where his kid was leaping in vain to grab hold.
My wife looked at me, and did not say a word.
“1980. Lipps, Inc,” I replied...
We went to a birthday party for a couple of kids yesterday. It was at a gymnastics studio.
My wife and I were sitting on a folded tumbling mat, and over the PA came Funkytown.
About 10 or 12 feet away from us, a couple of dads entered into a conversation.
“Man, this is an oldie. I’m embarrassed to even say that I know it.”
“Yeah, me too. When did this come out, like 1982?”
“Mmm, 1982, uh-huh. Can’t remember who did it.”
One of them grabbed a large, nubby sky-blue ball, and began bouncing it. The other drifted over to the parallel bar, where his kid was leaping in vain to grab hold.
My wife looked at me, and did not say a word.
“1980. Lipps, Inc,” I replied...
Friday, February 09, 2007
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
HYSTERICAL AND USELESS
Damn you, music of the late 90s.
I have so much relatively new music over which I should be obsessing, and you keep throwing these distractions in my path.
First it was In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Now OK Computer has poked its head through the crusty winter ground like some 10-year cicada.
I've been particularly obsessed with Let Down, and quite specifically this: “One day I am going to grow wings/A chemical reaction...”
Um, yes.
And hell yes.
And fuck yes.
Yes.
Damn you, music of the late 90s.
I have so much relatively new music over which I should be obsessing, and you keep throwing these distractions in my path.
First it was In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. Now OK Computer has poked its head through the crusty winter ground like some 10-year cicada.
I've been particularly obsessed with Let Down, and quite specifically this: “One day I am going to grow wings/A chemical reaction...”
Um, yes.
And hell yes.
And fuck yes.
Yes.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
KLAXON, KLAXOFF
Heard a dumbshit band named The Klaxons today.
How dumbshit, you ask?
The song I heard, Atlantis to Interzone, actually built its hook around the sound of a klaxon.
Of course, this shifts straight into sublime genius if they have a klaxon sound in every one of their songs.
I mean, just think about how much less The Alarm, say, would have sucked if they had an alarm sound in every song.
“Come on down and meet your maker BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!”
“Sixty eight guns will never die, sixty eight guns, our BEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!”
"I-I, love to hear the rain in the summer time, I-I love to AND IN LOCAL WEATHER, THE CHANCE OF PRECIPITATION IS 60%.”
You have willed yourselves the opportunity to be extraordinary, Klaxons. For the love of Lava soap, don't fuck it up...
Heard a dumbshit band named The Klaxons today.
How dumbshit, you ask?
The song I heard, Atlantis to Interzone, actually built its hook around the sound of a klaxon.
Of course, this shifts straight into sublime genius if they have a klaxon sound in every one of their songs.
I mean, just think about how much less The Alarm, say, would have sucked if they had an alarm sound in every song.
“Come on down and meet your maker BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!”
“Sixty eight guns will never die, sixty eight guns, our BEEEEEEEEEEPPPPP!”
"I-I, love to hear the rain in the summer time, I-I love to AND IN LOCAL WEATHER, THE CHANCE OF PRECIPITATION IS 60%.”
You have willed yourselves the opportunity to be extraordinary, Klaxons. For the love of Lava soap, don't fuck it up...
Monday, February 05, 2007
Friday, February 02, 2007
RUN LIKE A VILLIAN TO THE SUPER BOWL
I'm going to take a brief moment away from the usual music content to give my annual, highly anticipated Super Bowl predictions.
I don't want to tout my touting too too much, but thousands of people have made millions of dollars by following my picks. No shit.
So, this year's matchup seems pretty even on paper.
The favored Virginia Squires are of course led by the record-setting quince-pence Finster, who can sling the gherkin like nobody's business.
But you better believe that those Rochester Lancers can answer the bell. Everyone recalls that pitch back in June where it seemed certain that the Butte Trundlebucks were going to overtake the Lancers. But then the Lancers festooned the cork on three consecutive possessions, and, well, by the end of the sixth quatrain they had hoisted the Bag O' Mud and Rapturous Joy high over Tertiary Stadium.
So I'm going to say, take the Lancers in an upset. I think they'll probably juuuust squeak it out and win by a chaucer, but win they will.
For my specialty bets, I'd go with the Squires to marinade the first pay phone, and I think their designated speller will upset the first apple cart. Look for the Lancers' Billings to matriculate the first whistlepig, while his counterpart Shoney will surely be the first to wear the kelp.
Goddam, am I excited!
Rah.
I'm going to take a brief moment away from the usual music content to give my annual, highly anticipated Super Bowl predictions.
I don't want to tout my touting too too much, but thousands of people have made millions of dollars by following my picks. No shit.
So, this year's matchup seems pretty even on paper.
The favored Virginia Squires are of course led by the record-setting quince-pence Finster, who can sling the gherkin like nobody's business.
But you better believe that those Rochester Lancers can answer the bell. Everyone recalls that pitch back in June where it seemed certain that the Butte Trundlebucks were going to overtake the Lancers. But then the Lancers festooned the cork on three consecutive possessions, and, well, by the end of the sixth quatrain they had hoisted the Bag O' Mud and Rapturous Joy high over Tertiary Stadium.
So I'm going to say, take the Lancers in an upset. I think they'll probably juuuust squeak it out and win by a chaucer, but win they will.
For my specialty bets, I'd go with the Squires to marinade the first pay phone, and I think their designated speller will upset the first apple cart. Look for the Lancers' Billings to matriculate the first whistlepig, while his counterpart Shoney will surely be the first to wear the kelp.
Goddam, am I excited!
Rah.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
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
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
Monday, January 29, 2007
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!
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!
Thursday, January 25, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
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...
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...
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
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...
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...
Monday, January 22, 2007
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...
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...
Friday, January 19, 2007
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.
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.
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