COMPACT

Walking around the Shibuya HMV shop, it's clear the world has changed. Four years ago, I was mesmerized by the Tower down the street. But now I don't really need CDs-- I'm happy to download, and bypass the extra cost that comes with the production and marketing of physical media.

So yeah, I bought a few CDs, but they're more like souvenirs-- of the trip, and of a time gone by...

THERE GOES TOKYO

Spent today in Harajuku. These kids with their crazy fashions...

It was ungodly hot, so we ducked into every little shop on the slightest pretense. I almost bought a "Japan exclusive" pair of Converse for $150, but Taeko was quick to talk me out of it.

Spent a couple of hours in Kiddy Land, a 6-story toy store. I bought a nice selection of blind-box Be@rbricks, a very cool mini robot (Taeko wrinkled her nose at the $35 price tag, but come on: mini robot), and some sundries.

We ate freshly made crepes at a stand around the corner from the Condomania shop. I had the chocolate/fresh cream-- crepe, not condom. If I close my eyes wistfully, I can still taste it.

Visited the Johnny's Shop, to see if Taeko could score some Arashi swag. Turned out they mostly just sold 8 x 10s. A scarily massive number of 8 x 10s, all things considered.

Tomorrow: the Ghibli Museum, and the fulfillment of my years-long dream of meeting Totoro...

THE EAST'S NOT SO FAR AWAY

Leaving tomorrow morning for a couple of weeks in Japan. See you in early August!

HOPELESS UNBELIEVER

I finally got to the bottom of this...

The thing wot nicked from The Housemartins was the chorus of If You're Feeling Sinister.

GOOD TIMES COME TO ME NOW

You ever have one of those nights where compulsion drives you to watch as many videos of Haysi Fantayzee's “Shiny Shiny” as you can dig up?

Well, last night was one of those.

I find the male Haysi particularly compelling. No matter the venue, he does the same bloody “I'm Walking, I'm Walking, Whee! I'm Stepping on the Tiny Ants” dance.

The 80s were the shit...

BECAUSE THE WORLD IS ROUND

Answer time here:

Michelle
Sun King
Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand/Sie Liebt Dich

WWWW

Another summertime special here on the tongue.

95th caller to answer today's trivia question scores a pair of free tix to Summerfest out at the Coliseum, featuring Starship and the Speedwagon. Summerfest, brought to you by Burns Ford and AAA Siding!

So strap 'em on, race fans, 'cause here we go:

The Beatles sang significant parts of songs in at least three languages besides English. And we're not talking just balalaikas here, silly Russkies-- we're talking numerous words and phrases. Name at least three songs where those lovable moptoppers were speaking in at least three (sliced!) tongues.

The lines are open now. Remember, you gotta bean it to wean it, weiners!

MEET A BEATLE

My niece took a field trip down here to DC a few weeks back, and she ran into this guy out riding his bike...

When I was a kid, all I ever saw on my field trips was stuff like the back room of the Waldbaum's butcher shop.

Which leads us to this Reese's Peanut Butter Cup moment:

UNDERSTANDS ME WHEN I'M FALLING DOWN

Name me a musical archeological dig that was ever more fruitful than the Velvet Underground's VU.

A dozen years after their implosion it was both an illustration of their enduring brilliance and a demonstration of how thoroughly Lou Reed could lose the essential plot.

For evidence, look no further than the VU version of She's My Best Friend and the solo version that showed up on Sally Can't Dance.

One will make you weep, and the other will make you cry...

I'LL GIVE YOU A MAN WHO WANTS TO RULE THE WORLD

We watched The Spy Next Door for movie night this past weekend.

It's a Jackie Chan family film in which he plays a Chinese spy on loan to the CIA. He is deep undercover as a nebbishy suburban pen salesman. He's dating the divorcee next door, who has two kids and a step kid. The kids all hate Jackie Chan because he's such a square. Little do they know, amiright amiright?

Anyway, the truly surreal aspect of the movie is that it turns on the plot conceit of having the nerdy middle-school son attempt to download a “rare” concert by the early 80s British hardcore band GBH. You see, having this “rare” (and there are those pesky quotation marks again) concert is supposed to be currency with the mouth-breathing bullies who make our young protagonist's life a wedgie-tinged hell.

Well, it turns out that the GBH file is actually an encrypted Russian file, and not an early 80s British hardcore concert. So of course the bullies are enraged. Atomic wedgies ensue.

But here we get our first hint that Jackie Chan is something cool. He comes through for the nerdy boy and burns him a CD of the “rare” Iggy Pop/David Bowie Shanghai concert that all the middle-school bullies are mad for these days.

And how'd he get a hold of it?

He was there, motherfucker. He was there...

NEVER TOOK NO SHIT FROM NO ONE

There it was in my mailbox. A request from a long-ago friend to write a letter to the judge who is preparing to sentence him to prison.

Looks like it will be 12-18 months, and I suppose it's standard practice for lawyers to solicit letters speaking to the character of the accused, in an effort to draw the shorter end of that sentencing range.

So what to do? Well, if you have a stubborn Irish belief in the concept of redemption, you consider writing the letter.

Aw hell, who I am kidding? I wrote it at lunch today...

To Whom It May Concern:

I am writing this letter to speak briefly about my relationship with X.

X and I became friends when we were both 14 years old. X at that young age was distinguished by his expansive heart and his abundant generosity.

I had lost my father three years prior to becoming friends with X, and my family was in a financially vulnerable state. Unbidden, X would pay for the slices of pizza I sometimes couldn’t afford, or help cover the cost of movie tickets that my summer job would not allow.

I recall in particular the car stereo that had been given to him by an uncle who worked in the electronics business, which X gave to me as a gift when I was 14. This act of largesse was the essence of X: the basic impulse was noble and good, if a bit impractical (I was at that point a few years away from even having a driver’s license). The stereo sat on my bookshelf in its box untouched, a dusty symbol of the type of friend I hope everyone has been lucky enough to have at that age.

My conscience requires me to note that X and I have not been in close contact for over 20 years now. He has made me aware of his current situation, and it has taken me back to that 14-year-old boy. He was impetuous, impractical, and impish. He was generous, kind, and fiercely loyal to those he loved. Even separated as we are by years and miles and circumstances, I trust in my heart that X is still all of those things.

It is my hope that the resolution of the current situation will come with its necessary lessons, but allow X to keep intact the abiding spirit of my 14-year-old friend.

ET CETERA

Just back from a week in Chicago, where I found myself explaining post-rock to a table of people who didn't give a toss. I have got to work on my dinner-conversation skills.

I am going to burn a copy of Millions Now Living Will Never Die for one lucky winner...

PLEASE RELEASE ME

Lots of comfort food on the way this year...

LCD Soundsystem, This is Happening
Happened already. I bought it, but I haven't listened yet. I'm sure it's yummy.

M.I.A., Maya
Watch yourself, gingers.

Panda Bear, Tomboy
Yes!

Arcade Fire, The Suburbs
This comes out in August, but if the shitilicious first single is any indication, I suspect they really did shoot their wad with Funeral.

Belle and Sebastian, TBD
DAR Constitution Hall in October? OK, I'll be there.

of Montreal, False Priest
Pretty sure this is still on tap for the fall. So... yay.

Stereolab, Not Music
This is the second half of the Chemical Chords sessions. I'm sure the Lab in their grave will continue to drop music Tupac style...

PHISH

Mother Nature took the brown acid at Woodstock...

IF YOU BELIEVED THEY PUT A MAN ON THE MOON

OK, first there was this.

And now this:

The Mets just completed a three-game sweep of the first-place Phillies, tossing shutouts in all three games. This is something the Mets have done once before, against... you guessed it... the Phillies, in... wait for it... 1969.

Again, just saying is all...

FLICK TO KICK

I realized today that I have two songs with the word "Subbuteo" in the lyrics: All I Want for Christmas is a Dukla Prague Away Kit by Half Man Half Biscuit, and My Perfect Cousin by The Undertones.

Not sure if I've cornered the market yet: drop me a line if you know of another.

WE WON'T BE SEARCHIN' ANYMORE

Word of the day:

exLostion (n): the quality of langour that attends on a Monday after having stayed up until 11:30 on a Sunday to watch the series finale of a beloved show. (See also, Sopranorific.)

MAKE EVERY SONG YOUR FAVORITE TUNE

OK, so I worked through my hissy fit, and decided to go ahead and buy the 3 genuine alternate Exile tracks: Loving Cup, Soul Survivor, and Good Time Women (protozoan Tumbling Dice).

So now when my Amazon package with the new LCD Soundsystem and Janelle Monae shows up, I can just get on with my life...

DON'T NEED NO JEWELS IN MY CROWN

Exile on Main Street didn't really make much sense to me until I was 18 or 19.

But it's been with me-- and vice versa-- ever since.

Of course I was thrilled when I heard that the Stones were compiling a “deluxe” version.

Now, I'm not enough of a trainspotter to go chasing after outtakes and such, but I'd certainly be a willing consumer of Exile-era flotsam if it showed up on a silver platter.

And if the Beatles could squeeze three double-disc anthologies out of their archives, surely the Stones could support at least one disc's worth of interesting 1971-2 material.

But the Stones being the Stones, they apparently decided we couldn't handle the rough stuff, so they went and added new vocals and such to a bunch of the old tracks.

And again their legacy is ill served.

Well, that's $20 that will stay in my pocket, at least...

ARC OF A HOLY DIVER

To us dwellers outside the gates of Heavy Metal, Ronnie James Dio means Holy Diver.

Plus, we know he was a replacement for Ozzy in Black Sabbath. But we only know this because we once had friends on the inside...

So yeah, it's a reductive view, but it's the best I can do.

RIP, RJD...