Additions

I have added a few new links. Paper Cuts is a blog by a colleague who's assignment for a class is to keep track of all the cuts in the newspaper industry. This may not affect these readers since most of the stuff I do is on a book or piece of music....But I'm interested.

As for that I've been following Paper Cuts the NYT's lit blog and Penguin's blog which has all sorts of information. The Orwell thing is a creative idea, but may not enthuse most as Orwell was writing about the scene of things from his hospital bed. Plans, intricate measurements of everyday items. But still nice to think of him as one of us blogging.

We have another ",Reflections," which is a diary of an American in Japan. Making that push that's hard for us to make if our roots are deep here, but easy with younger folks getting international sooner these days.

Blowing in the Wind

My attitude toward alternative energies has always been Yay, let's do it. Just a progressive kneejerk reaction, that is to say.

What the picture of this story alone makes clear is that it'll be in part a fight/negotiation with property owners to get wind energy turbines built. We see them now mostly in remote areas (a la Weatherford). But think of this picture and these kids who are trying to swim in a pool. Are these space age looking things blowing all the water out ? Having these near a home must be a big distratction.

Differing state electrical rates and policies are also hindrances in a national schemed grid.

This story gets into the challenges that face the wind energy alternative plans that T. Boone Pickens has been advocating lately.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/08/27/business/27grid.html?hp

Steps Toward a New Kind of Music Writing

Still hashing through my Irish memories. Listening to Mr. Lonnie Donegan, a true English gentleman.

I have been conversing with people on how music writing often sucks to read. You get the feeling the writer is having a good time writing it, maybe he's even analyzing it...But I've come to the conclusion that I'm in desperate search for a new kind I guess. Here's one try from Corked:

Betwixt, between the Twisted Stars, the faulty map that brought Lou Reed to Ireland

This will be short because I’ve already written a concert review that was so removed from reality that I don’t have it in me to include it here. One moment seems to cast a brighter light on the music I once consumed myself.

One day after seeing a TV news brief that Lou Reed, Antony, Nick Cave and Beth Orton would be singing the songs of Leonard Cohen I told Meike I’d skip the Anglo-Irish Fiction class and take a trip to Dublin. It was my first real time in Dublin. When the bus let me off I spent 10 minutes on one of the bridges leading to the fancy concert hall The Point. I stood watching boats drift away and photography societies next to me snap shots of the creamy Dublin sunset which looked like none other. I had my Kodak and tried to match their efforts.

The concert was fine. Leonard Cohen wasn’t there, and neither was Rufus Wainwright who appeared in the film version of the concert I was seeing. Lou Reed looked a bit like death, but he also looked like the street poet I had always imagined when I listened to his grungy songs about Heroin. A man who also, sweetly, knew a damn good pair of Pale Blue Eyes when he saw them. He had lived life and now here he was dragging this husk of his former self onto the stage to lend his presence to others who were hungry to live for him now that he couldn‘t, dammit.

But God if I wasn’t sitting next to the drabbest, most dull black suited men and smooth red silk, scarlet lipped ladies in all of Ireland. And they were all around me. I was at the top balcony, sitting. The rows and rows below me, sitting. And here was the black angel of death before us all, the man who in his underrated solo career wrote these words:

"Ill take Manhattan in a garbage bag/With Latin written on it that
says It’s hard to give a shit these days/ Manhattans sinking like a rock/ Into the
filthy Hudson what a shock/ They wrote a book about it. / They said it was like
ancient Rome"

And we were all dressed up. Who in this dapper mot was really listening when during his song Whitmanesque song about naked bodies, which featured his dirty Sister Ray style guitar skronk, the real flesh we came to see instead of his own (the beauty of music).

Did we really hear Antony (and this is on You Tube now) in his agony, writhing and face making with a cover of Cohen’s If it Be Your Will, with the consoling black ladies behind him:

From this broken hill/ your praises shall ring/ if it be your will to let me
sing/ If it be your will/ If there is a choice/ Let the rivers fill/ Let the
hills rejoice/ Let your mercy spill/ on all these burning hearts in hell/ if it
be your will to make us well.

God if we weren’t all listening, I know these guys next to me weren’t. Another cosmo black tie night. I needed a Guinness.

During intermission I stood in the beer line upstairs. The line shortened and the cluttered mass thinned. I asked for a 6 Euro Guiness and the 40 something woman poured it to me in a plastic cup. She handed me the drink, sized me up and looked around a bit lost.

“Who’s playing down there?”
“Oh, Lou Reed, Nick Cave and some others.”
“Oh, I’ve never heard them”
“Yeah. It’s pretty good.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, how much did you pay to get in?
“60 Euros.”
“Oh! No thank you … is it that good?”
“Yeah it is! I‘ve always wanted to see these guys.”
“Well, that’s good for you then.”

I seem to remember this exchange clearer than half of the concert, this glimpse of the Corkians who work these service jobs and serve beers to dry elites who like their Lou Reed, their street poetry with an aperitif. The woman had such a straight forward manner. She kind of made me feel like a teenager. She no doubt liked music like the rest of us blood pumpers, but she didn’t feel the need to spend a weeks, or half, pay on seeing it in the flesh.

The older I get the more I can enjoy music privately, forfeit the show. The stuff I saw that night was very good, the Antony was the best. But what better times I had had with the burned CD Lou Reed that a White Water lifeguard had burned for me so affectionately years ago. I Came So Far for Beauty was the name of the concert, and Meike appropriately noticed this was the theme of my trip with all my music chasing. But a lot of that stuff came from the past as I remembered it, or the streets (in the form of The Conservatory in Oklahoma City … or Oklahomans like Samantha Crain trying out brand new songs at the small Galileos for a 5$ cover).

It wasn’t there in Dublin where I had hopped the bus and tramped through the spacious Dublin streets past the cold Green statues. It wasn’t in such places where Lou Reed found the subjects to his songs, the pious and sexual Hispanic Romeos and Juliettes with diamond crucifixes in their ears. Man, if confronted with a 6 Euro/$8 stout the old Lou would probably take it and pour it on his crotch just to make the people around him feel uncomfortable and restore his own weird comfort level. People out there had mouths to feed and couldn‘t go anywhere for beauty or spend so much money looking, as this lady made clear to me. For the rest of the concert somehow I felt silly for putting her to work pouring my drought.

Future of Suburbia

This is real long. A quorum! I can't read it all now.

I will read it soon because I wonder what will happen to the nice burb neighborhoods like the one I'm sitting in right now. I can see the backyard from here. It's not the Amazon, but it suits me darnnit!

I'm speakin in defense of the happy suburbanites.

The Link: http://freakonomics.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/08/12/what-is-the-future-of-suburbia-a-freakonomics-quorum/?hp

From the Dusties: Don McClean

I coulda been most anything I put my mind to be,

But a cowboy's life was the only life for me.
It's a strong man's occupation ridin' herd and livin' free,

But strong men often fail

Where shrewd men can prevail,

I'm an old man now with nothin' left to say,

But oh god how I worked my youth away.

Well you may not recognise my face,

I used to be a star,

A cowboy hero known both near and far.

I perched upon a silver mount and sang with my guitar,

But the studio of course,owned my saddle and my horse,

But that six-gun on the wall belongs to me,

Oh god I can't live a memory.

You know I'd like to put my finger on that trigger once again,

And point that gun at all the prideful men.

All the voyeurs and the lawyers who can pull a fountain pen,

And put you where they choose,

With the language that they use,

And enslave you till you work your youth away,

Oh god how I worked my youth away.

Whoopee ty yioh

Whoopee ty yi ay,

One man's work is another man's play

Oh god how I worked my youth away.

You see I always liked the notion of a cowboy fighting crime,

This photograph was taken in my prime,

I could beat those desperados but there's no sense fightin' time,

But the singin' was a ball

Cause I'm not musical at all,

I moved my lips to someone else's voice.

I coulda been most anything I put my mind to be,
But a cowboy's life was the only life for me.

It's a strong man's occupation ridin' herd and livin' free,
But strong men often fail
Where shrewd men can prevail,

I'm an old man now

with nothing left to say

But Oh god how I worked my youth away.

What a sad, sad, sad song. Bronco Bill's Lament by Don McClean. It was brought to my attention the first time I saw Okemah native John Fullbright cover it in bar/basement in his hometown of Okemah. It sounded like his own.

He played again by my request a few weeks ago and I finally found the McClean LP it comes from at Trusty Size Records

Any songwriter who can dig up a lost gem like this song and sing it like the boy does, is going places. And I'll be sure to report on the upward mobility of this young country singer from our state of Oklahoma.

You can hear some of his originals here: http://www.myspace.com/johnrussellfullbright

Our Great Escape

After years of reading, Oklahoma City is now in the travel section of the times. An Escape, they call it.
Crazy enough, half of the things this guy did I have not.

http://travel.nytimes.com/2008/08/08/travel/escapes/08American.html?ref=travel

At the Movies: The Fountain

I very belatedly gave Darren Aronofsky's The Fountain a spin last night. Starring Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz, the film navigates 3 narratives that more or less have the same story arc. And one of which may be a part of the the 2nd. I'm still confused a bit.

Scientist's woman is dying in the real world, man's country (Spain) is dying in the 2nd plot which is opened up to us because it is the book Weisz is writing to deal with her death, her husband cast as the hero conquistadore. The third plot concerns a man's tree (tree of life) forbidden to Adam and Eve and an obsession to Jackman's character in this world.

It's a movie with a hell of an imagination. The fantasy sequences were made by a French group of guys, the lighting in the hospital and science lab scenes is a kind of midnight yellow that render the characters always in a state of darkness and very pale light. It gets most of its dramatic juices from the relationship from Weisz and Hugh Jackman. It's the best role, in my opinion, that I've seen him play, particular when has to relive all a time he was too busy for a walk. Movies give us a vivid sense of our own subconscious workings that our brains simply can't imagine all by themselves, but that they think and feel.

There are plenty of rich themes to deal with. There are some buddhist influences and some Whitman notions of the cemetary being a celebrated place of life, death being regenerative.

As the dying woman accepts death, writing a book inspired by history and by the book of Genesis, it is the scientist who refuses and plunges on with his efforts of eradicating brain tumors in monkeys so that it will lead to a breakthrough in humans. In short, he wants to eliminate all death, and his colleagues watch the obsession consume him with concern. It's a Doctor Faustus struggle rooted in the natural yearning for eternal life.

But somehow, though the movie is pretty tense, the way Aronofsky constructs it gives it a calm buoyancy: there's subdued, tender flashbacks (a bathtub moment my favorite), the music of Clint Mansell (and one by Mogwai), and every word uttered by the serene Ellen Burstyn (thanks Darren for making her one of your regulars, is every one else sleeping!?).

I think this is one of those movies that will win more praise with time. It looks at the stars (or dying nebulas that the Mayans prized most of all--yes it's a think one) ... and refuses to look anywhere else. And it seems to me that it was made from a sincere place.

Busker, baby

The new home has proved a good space for writing. I have a real good window, just as I remembered it. It appears the first completed long-form work of mine will be my memoir of 3 short months in Ireland and 3 days in Germany. This I can safely say as it has been the easiest to write. So far it meanders, lacks par descriptive elements and contains too many references and maybe one funny part. We'll try to stop her at 80 we think.

A few slices:

The dentist told me that I shouldn’t leave the country at such a dangerous time. Why leave him at a time like this? Of all the Daly’s, McCulloughs, McDonalds, McDonaughs and Murphys and Mulligans and that live here now, how could this person think my trip to Cork, Ireland a dangerous one?
I left my country on a plane to a place I didn’t know. Even if that place was one of the most Westernized, American friendly countries in Europe I knew it would still be strange to me. I wouldn’t know any one when my plane touched down. I was 21 and nervous in the excited way a cliff diver is, not caring the temperature of the water that is about to consume him just knowing he‘s going to hit it. For years my leg had bumped my foot up and down on the ground. I had wanted to breathe new air, see a new ocean. See an ocean.

Reading about rock in Dublin bus station...

The train station had large white windows and I entered it heavy with breathing, and feeling not nervous but just weird. I asked the man at the counter if the bus to Cork was ontime and he said of course. There was a little gift shot. There I found a rock and roll magazine. It would cost me 10 American dollars, but I still bought it. I had reviewed Cds for a few bucks in Oklahoma and the glossy pages full of new artists from all over the world in Uncut had always been a favorite. Now I could read it in the climate where it was printed!

I found a plastic seat with metal arm rests to plop my plenty. The Eastern European traveling girls laughed at me in their strange language. Their hair was knotty, their jackets were well used, and their shoes were narrow running shoe types. They rested their tough feet on big bags. I watched the girls shyly before returning to the pages. Sufjan Stevens had released Avalanches, a collection of B-Sides that was still a four star listen. He told an English reporter that he was a failure in his own eyes until he wrote a novel. He had ditched 8 or so. The big words in his albums haven’t aged so well with me, but at the time they were soothing ear serum. I read about the Cleveland punk band Peru Ubu and the re-release of their album The Modern Dance. Peter Laughner was in that band once, I remembered. He was the guy Lester Bangs wrote about in Peter Laughner Died for your Sins. Ha, bangs only wrote for his fellow New York club goers I think. I never tried to fashion my entire life like Lou Reed: dark shades, dark leather jacket, tough talk all the time, amphetamine, heroin habit. Just part of it.

What a time, I always thought. Those last two habits got Laughner kicked out of Peru Ubu, then killed him. My Morning Jacket released a live album that was apparently great. Lilly Allen was scatting about chavs: cheap, tacky, pot smoking English losers/walkers of the more beat down housing stacks Mike Skinner also poeticizes. All these earned good ratings with Uncut, which got me thinking in the Dublin bus station., these English rock writers like everything. Maybe I should become an English rock writer.
A young boy sold two expensive bikes to two American tourists. He checked their chains and shrugged and pointed, and told them if they needed anything else they could call him. The Americans knew nothing about bikes. The wife and man strapped on their happy helmets and took to the streets.

Clinton and the Irish....

American Airlines offered the cheapest flights to Ireland, so I took that one. On the first flight I went to Chicago O’Hare and experienced the wait that makes everyone in the United States grumble about O’Hare. Ever since I had opened up books in Yukon, Oklahoma I had been enamored with a photo of the journalist Hunter S. Thompson, let’s get it out of the way now, taken for a collection of his Fear and Loathing letters.

It’s a black and white photo. There he is, about to run you over as he marches out of a terminal with a front bent back like a rude boy in West Wide Story, a suitcase in hand and a cigarette in flapper case hanging from his tight mouth. Every paragraph of his story is lodged tight and suffering hilarious mutations in the ripples of a big, drug addled brain. But more to the point, here was a man who had seen many places.

Well, my weak lunges wouldn’t allow me to smoke as many cigarettes as Hunter S. Nor did a trip out of the country for 3 months allow me to take one really cool looking leather bag. I had an oversized backpack that one fashion editor at a school newspaper once laughed at when I suggested it might be a new thing. I was floundering down the wide, winding halls. There was another other 40 lb. coat case that I overloaded with a few essential books for the rainy provinces: Jon Savage’s punk rock bio England’s Dreaming, my then girlfriend’s book of Seamus Heaney poems. In a bag pocket was a New Yorker where the reporter, still Clinton struck, watched him give a speech in Africa where Bill quoted lines from Heaney’s Cure at Troy. Clinton like the ocean has ebbs and flows in the publics favor. As I write this the MSN “news” ticker is hinting at his racism. Months ago at a desperate juncture in his wife’s campaign Clinton condescended to compare Barack Obama to Jesse Jackson. It didn’t play well, and the motive has left some still sour.

If I may return to the eloquent Clinton who bridged a gap once here in my country I’d like to include The Heaney quote he read to African leaders at an AIDs education summit.

“History says, Don't hopeon this side of the grave.But then, once in a lifetimethe longed for tidal waveof justice can rise up,and hope and history rhyme.”

So I had a bit of Ireland in my foggy mind and an Irish poet in my bag. I don’t think Clinton’s a racist, but I think he’s a public official. Of them we don’t like to hear anything good. And I’ll do my very small part to counterbalance the hectoring of this public official by mentioning Bill’s taste in poetry.

I was later to be told that Seamus Heaney was Famous Seamus. People liked him all well and good. These faceless masses, as presented in the lecture, certainly liked him more than the professor who introduced his poems. To this day I admire his ability to write just as well about Greek battels as he does about the farm people’s loam, the spade, and most “famously” the wood coffin of one boy’s poor brother carried out on his own bitter graduation day. Our teacher told us that the young Heaney didn’t think he could be a poet until he read Patrick Kavanaugh. Yeats, who is spoken of first in Irish poetry, was a poet of puzzles, impenetrable at first....

.....

Famous Seamous points to an ancient battle to tell his readers of the present that in every lifetime there is a moment. Each generation has a chance to witness some kind of justice. It could be true for anything. Outside of a political contender. We can be moved very easily, and most people know redemption when they see it.

Seamous leaves a gap open to each reader with this “once in a lifetime” business. We are so nostalgic for the times that aren’t ours, but we are so silly not to expect them to be just the same…
For instance, people here still feel the need to hitchike. My mother and cousin in their youth in the 70s took a ride with some bikers from Texas to California. I know two people from OU who took the same random trips. One on bike, one hitchhiking. The need for flight doesn’t leave.
So it’s the waiting for the hope and history rhyming part that is hard. We have too many distractions and, while we wait, what if the rhyme has left. I can’t construct a sonnet or a moving iamb.
But there are those who are trying, I felt, and I wanted to look somewhere else for a while.

...

In my reminiscensesesssess (damn word) and in the search for an in into travel writing I discovered this flawed but searching essay I penned for a music web site. It attempted to weave the story of a Polish acquaintence with the plot of Once. I did respond to Once in a way I wouldn't have had I not seen the place for myself. I feel I have sung legitimate praises for the pic which is on video now

http://adequacy.net/feature.php?featureID=17&featureContentID=214

Listening: Conor Oberst "Cape Canaveral," Ola Podrida

Information about this Podcast --------->

O,
Radio, Radio, where did you put my rock and roll Soul?

No More Yesterday's Paper's podcast is designed to give listeners, Oklahoma Gazette readers and others in the area and outside suggestions on new and overlooked music in as many time periods and genres as we can collect. We'll post 4 new songs every Sunday night with a little interruption by me to give you an idea of the band. They will be arranged under whatever theme I can come up with that week. This week features upcoming concerts in Oklahoma. Unfortunately, those shows have already happened....

No More Yesterday's Radio was produced with the help of Oklahoma videographer David Burkhart at his Ambient Picture Studios in Norman, Oklahoma.

Cast of charcters for Show #1: Me, Scott H. Biram, Health, Fleetwood Mac, The Neighborhood.

Anatomy of a Performance

Well, this won't be all that. But I did catch Heath Ledger's movie Batman Begins yesterday. It was my first viewing. And I was not disappointed.

As with everyone else I'm sure I experienced that strange, woe feeling. You admire the performance, but ask "Is this what killed him?" And is it worth it to always put 1,000 percent of your energy into a work for which you will be known? For this I admire him still and can use as fuel. As can you.

It was like watching a stand up comic who is really, really good. And the way they push you and push you until you are completely in their arms waiting for the next weird place you were going to go. I cannot explain it any other way. Seeing that Dent campaign sticker on Joker's nurses outfit was especially great.

As a fellow viewer pointed out...He could have worn anything, but he chose a nurses outfit.
The method, indeed, he will be missed.

For director's address I'm with Manohla Dhargis who called that sunrise shot of Heath flapping his mop into the bright light purple air out of a police car is a masterpiece of the framing kind.

I did notice something in the voice characteristics that seemed like he may have gotten from seeing Tom Waits live. The way Tom Wait's nerdy, sooty, adolescent deepness quirkily navigates a joke in On The Road from his latest collection Orphans. There are a lot of strange ticks in his, as I've read it from clever critics, punk rock performance, of which the Waits influence may be one. There's a little androgyny, a little Clockwork Orange, a little Deniro in the stalking moments.

We can call Heath's Joker the ultimate Orphan, or juvenile delinquient. A mad genius boy who has been kicked too many times, shunted to the back of the pizza line, neglected by his parents, and fallen into the aegis of unsupervised academia and devious strategy. There is always something of the boy in his performance. And those are the boy who take guns to school and pore over maps to make it effecient and to put the indifferent layman in these horrible, ethically compromising situations.

Never did I feel like I was watching a comic book character, but a very real and sad unwanted byproduct of hostile American society. Those other Batman films succeeded in caricature. This in the gruesome reality of times we, it seems, can't shy away from anymore.

THAT is no country for old men

Okay for all you Yeats heads out there...

W.B. Yeats is one of those old poets that lend resonance to the word protean. He went through phases and rolled with the times, adapted..fixed his mind...changed it. He was enthusiastic and crazy prolific as a result. And he was the author of those very catchy words "That is No Country for Old Men," a sobering, yet lyric musing on old manhood.

In America we tend to give a lot of credence to the art that burns young and dies before it can get old. But Yeats offers us a refreshing contrast. All through his life, Yeats was hitting literati with interesting angles and duplicities. His nationalism is otherworldly in the collection The Wind Among the Reeds. In the famous 1902 uprising poem where a he manages to sound cold, scientific and a believer at poem's end. As layman, guys you couldn't pay Yeats to have a stout with on a normal day, become martyrs for the new Irish state, Yeats realizes that "A Terrible Beauty is born..."

I think of Yeats the way I do because of my travels in Ireland. Yeats loved that land. It created the wild weather that blew any sense satisfaction away from him. It was the home of the woman who never returned his love for her. It was where his plays were booed...

I was talking to a musician/young idealist from Illinois at Galileos tonight and we talked about how we embrace new media, but like to hold the object as well. He wants to work in zines and likes to have one to carry around. I was reminded of the strengths of the online option. The NYTimes ran a story about Yeats, and they found this learned woman to dissect Yeat's whole process in slide shows and audio. This is what online journo is doing that's so great. It may be tough to handle with all 10 minutes, but it's nice to probe for a bit. I'll link it here...

http://video.on.nytimes.com/?fr_story=1d933b7a401812e13341edb76287c6574ce321a8

I don't have an ounce of Irish in me, but that place and its people still have enormous weight in my mind. Can one's nationality be transformed through the alchemy of words?.... That's a question Yeats probably couldn't answer if he had lived on miraculously until today. He might say that it's okay to like a little bit of them all.

Return of The Chainsaw Kitten

Wrestled with Blogger for two hours yesterday to try to get a video a file of my first podcast uploaded. Videofile you say? We cut the thing on Final Cut Pro. As you can see, we are beating in the bushes here. And when we get out, we'll have four good tunes and some 'eh' narration.

Yesterday I grabbed Tyson Meade (former lead singer of The Chain Saw Kittens, Defenstration, Norman alterna power pop cult Godfathers) from a house he's staying in wait for his flight back to Shanghai and for one last show before then. The occaision was for an interview with The Gazette for an upcoming solo show that I found story worthy.
Tyson is the champion of Philip Rice, lead singer of The Neighborhood. The two will play solo sets.
I talked with both of them and let them talk to each other. Meade gave advice. Kind words all around and talks of the future and of this show coming up at Opolis July 26. Should be a good mix of folks there. The Norman hipsters of today, and the Norman hipsters of yore (whom I always assumed were a little crazier).

http://www.starlightmints.com/opolis.html

I took a break from transcribing to watch a video from The Kittens. I'm just coming to their music, and I find it invigorating, and sad and fun and everything that life in rock is supposed to be I think. Especially Loneliest China Place. Soaring guitars, sad topics.

I hear Meade's solo material is something to hear as well. Here's a video from the Kittens's good years.

http://isis67.multiply.com/video/item/336/Chainsaw_Kittens_-_Pop_Heiress_Dies

Scott Hiram Biram/Woody Fest

Scott Biram ratcheted up some street (or trucker) cred for actually getting hit by a truck in a 70mph collision and living to tell about it. He's tough I think. It takes one to grow up and out of a place like Kingsbury, TX. His songs about that place are vivid and entertaining.


Talking with him he's pretty soft spoken which comes in handy during some of his softer songs like Lost Case of Being Found.


In addition to being a good stomper and a yeller he handles traditional American songs like The Rock Island Line and Wabash Cannonball.


He'll be at Opolis..Next Monday at the Hillgrass Bluebilly show with Bob Log.


I wrote him up here....May post a full transcript soon.





http://www.okgazette.com/p/12853/a/2291/Default.aspx?ReturnUrl=LwBEAGUAZgBhAHUAbAB0AC4AYQBzAHAAeAAslashAHAAPQAxADIANwA0ADgA








It'll be a good punctuation for a sweaty weekend with the old timers at Woody Guthrie Fest in Okemah, which every one should go to because it's free. One of my coworkers complimented the nil entrance fee with a Kristofferson quote. "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose....."

For specifics on this event jump to http://www.woodyguthrie.com/

David Amram will be there playing with his son the drummer. He was the cat playing Keyboard in some documentary they made about Kerouac spitting poetry at a New York museum for the first time. He wrote the score for Splendor in the Grass and the original Manchurian Candidate. Composed with Bernstein. Farmer. Cosmic traveler. He has recently written a symphony with Woody's songs and loves coming down here, especially for the Saturday morning Pancake Breakfast. He'll talk to you about his French horn jazz and beats all day and he wrote about those times in two books, one called Vibrations. The spirit lives.

John Fullbright is probably 20 now. He plays at the brickstreet grill basement at noon Friday. He's the real deal, a voice scratching sandpaper that's 30 years older than him. Excellent picker. He sings songs about his brother in Iraq and other heavys in the outlaw country style. He covers Earl Keen and Don McClean in a real easy way. He sounds like a natural. He's from this ghost town. I'm hoping he's kept up the skills.




My 2006 trip to Woody Fest is still my one Google worthy moment...Just riding on the tail of Woody's ramblin' legacy.





http://www.popmatters.com/music/features/060804-okemah.shtml

There will be camping. I'm told there are more peaceful spots out by the little Okemah Lake so any crew that jumps on with us may have that to look forward to....

End of an Era

I've been a bit slow on the digital music. I download it. But then I immidiately burn it to CD. Compact Discs are disposable, easily scratched, yes. But they were there for me (used and new) when I needed them. And it's kind of hard to say goodbye to them.

Selfish nostalgia aside this New Yawka saw his community CD shop go under, and his "rock star" life disappear. I see a loss of community, and luckily here in Norman the kids have a place to talk about music matters with knowledgeable clerks. Market and rent aint' like it is in New York.

At any rate, here's Sal's story told in one of my favorite little features in Newsweek, My Turn.

http://www.newsweek.com/id/143754

OKG Cover Story

If you are in the Oklahoma City area I encourage you to pick up a copy of the Gazette. It's my first cover story and a worthy one. It's on Jabee.

Well Jabee was worthy of a bigger story. If I'd a known when I set out on this one that it had a chance at the cover I would have tricked it out with some more sources and some language. But, no bodder, Jabee will tell it best Saturday night at the Conservatory with an LA artist who I hear from credible sources is grrrreat. His name is Blu.

See you there.

The link: http://www.okgazette.com/p/12857/a/2247/Default.aspx?ReturnUrl=LwBEAGUAZgBhAHUAbAB0AC4AYQBzAHAAeAAslashAHAAPQAxADIANwAzADAA

Coming Soon

I began work today at my co-producer's house on a No More Yesterday's Papers music podcast. I probably won't have time to record one once a week. So we might shoot for every other week (tentatively). What we'll have is 4 songs with narration from me. These four songs will be good ones organized in streamline fashion across a larger theme. The first theme, not to give too much away, has a Coming Soon theme. Meaning you will be able to hear all of the podcasted artists live and loud in Oklahoma.

I don't want this to be just letters and symbols and pictures and things when we have the potential for more.

Mesh

Who are the lovers of beauty?
Where do they roam?
Do they walk the streets from night to noon?
Do they still bark at the moon?
Do they stand up when they drink milk?
Or stare at white screens and blinking yardsticks
as they wait for the Word?
Are they still watching like big eyed birds?

A thousand blinking screens
In a thousand milling cafes
Mock the thousand blinking stars
If you must
I really could listen to this Mp3 all night, you know.

Is there a place for talk,
A shave with care
A woman to hold you still in a chair
Where they still watch mosquitoes eat skin
Tend the fresh bubble, the red rash?

We, linked and lured
The bug zapper of the soul

A thousand blinking screens
Brighter than flesh
Grip the guest
Loved, loved and lorn
The roamers are enmeshed

Summer of Books

Yep.

The ladies at The Architecture and Engineering school are starting to think I"m nuts for not having a real job. But with freelancing and my summer of books project I keep from feeling...I don't know...worthless. But alas, dear American society I will contribute to your strange machinations one day.

For now these are the books that have been completely. A partner and I are both reading Ulysses with a companion of allusions. Our hands are by the phone. We call when we simply don't get it which is often. His theological training has come in very handy. We will do most of these U readings at Barnes and Noble at our counter.

I list the following books not to show off but to encourage a dialogue about them. To give a recommendation or not. And I do it for my own personal record.

Summer so far:

Les Miserables- Victor Hugo (worth the time, will return to it surely, never read the word "immensity" so much)

Old Man and the Sea- Hemingway (better than my first read, great ending)

Books of my Life-Henry Miller----makes me want to read more DH Lawrence and Whitman

Obama- Dreams of My Father (seems a good portrait of the man as ponderous wanderer)

Larry McMurtry- Walter Benjamin and the Dairy Queen

Kevin Costello- 14 Left (a screenplay by a friend

James Nghiem- The Kid in Manny. He still says the character isn't named after me. Deflating to the ego. But it is true I would never swallow so many caffeine pills and then drive!

On the Road- Jack Kerouac (He lived with his mom too....)

Snows of Kiliminjaro (short story)- Ernest Hemingway. All those stories he "didn't write" if he didn't write them.

Hart Crane (poem)- The Bridge

The Shipping News- Annie Proulx (great supplement to my brief brush with the journalism world, inventive descriptions, hillarious, good little kid characters, reminds me of my visit to the Aran Islands with its unforgiving Newfoundland setting. And like many books I like it has a theme of a dying era, for fishing, newspapers)

Much work to do with Joyce, Capote, some Oklahoma History and a little Chuck Klosterman for the death metal soul........

Air France

Distraction of the moment. The head in the clouds, little girl la la floating in beat beats, horns and synthesizer music of Air France.

Collapsing at Your Front Door.

Aw what a sad sight full of pathos. A night of raving only to return home in the daylight shamefaced, dehydrated and a pocket empty. Sham on you.

But listening to this song will send you right back out to the rave.

Fork has it here.

http://www.imeem.com/pitchforkmedia/music/4GGsvyM1/air_france_collapsing_at_your_doorstep/

How I Blow my Money

I told myself it was going to be a summer of books.

Last week I woke up with that restless feeling. I don't know if I'll ever lose this capacity to make such bad decisions.

So I filled my tank to the $30 mark and hit the turnpike. I drove through Elgin, Lawton, took an Exit at Wichita Falls and went 20 miles West to Archer City. There stands 4 buildings (almost the whole Archer City downtown) of bookstores. Booked Up is Larry McMurtry's (Lonesome Dove, Last Picture Show) book compound. He says in his collction of essays that Archer City has relatively cheap rent for such an endeavor.

I browsed for hours, even sitting at that little table there seeing what Aldous Huxley had to say about D.H. Lawrence. Did you know he lived in New Mexico and had a car he called One-Eyed Susan. Looks like Lady Chaterley's Lover will join the list.

His academy award certificate of nominatino for The Last Picture Show is in the main room as his Dr. Pepper Best Novel by a Customer award, accompanied by a bottle opener on the plaque.

I'm sad to say the guy wasn't there. Not like I would've said anything if he had been. With many antique book stores going out of business, Booked up still stands.

I only made it to two buildings, so I will have to return. One building had a journalism section. The organizing system was pretty all over the place. There's one funny shelf called "Painfully Boring Titles." A book I own The Powers that Be" was on that shelf.

Two touristy couples gave a goshlookatallthesebooks kind of a tour.

I strained and strained and ultimately settled on a first edition, salmon colored Sherwood Anderson. His collection of short stories Horses and Men. One chapter is dedicated to the journalist cum novelist Theo Dreiser. Winesburg, Ohio was a big deal to me my first year of college.

I also got this little cartoon pamphlet about animals killing humans in humorous ways. It was a buck. I won't disclose the price of the Anderson.

Perhaps the best thing about taking a trip like this to visit a regional book mecca is the time it allows you to rock out, enjoy the wind and look at grain and grass blurring by, figuring out what you are going to make of yourself. The wide open blue sky that caused Larry McMurtry's sickness when he tried to live near Virginia, a place without the Western skyline, also engulfs you on that 60 mph road leading to Archer. And with gas pricest through the roof, the roads were rather empty.

The Playlist:

Blood is the New Black by Jabee (Oklahoma rapper, see here: http://www.myspace.com/emceejabee) And look for him on the COVER of next week's Oklahoma Gazette

Fleet Foxes, self-titled (twice)

Bob Dylan (I Want You, Visions of Johanna)

My Morning Jacket- Okonokos (both discs)

Fionn Regan- The End of History

Coldplay- Viva Vida (Or death to all those haters..)

Explosions in the Sky--Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Die, Those Who Tell the Truth Shall Live Forever

Leadbelly-- Ellis Pete, or something like it. He's got some thick syllables sometimes.

Tim Hardin- Reason to Believe

Hyper Politics

There's the challenger Andrew Rice, D-below, and the incumbent James Inhofe, R-above. I made a news contribution this week at The Gazette. This one is about the super accelerated pace of politics with the You Tube. And I asked the two campaigns in the senate race how they would use the application.

The link: http://www.okgazette.com/p/12776/a/2193/Default.aspx?ReturnUrl=LwBEAGUAZgBhAHUAbAB0AC4AYQBzAHAAeAAslashAHAAPQAxADIANwAyADkA

Happy Late Bloomsday!

This has always been my favorite picture of Irish literary legend James Joyce. Two of his works had a big impact on me and I have yet to get to the real butterfly of his career Ulysses. Dubliners celebrated Bloomsday Monday and all week, I think, with a free Irish breakfast and tours around the Joyce character's favorite haunts. From asking around I found the Irish breakfast is a tourist department concoction not a traditional breakfast as most Irish know it.

Bloomsday commemorates June 16 because that's the time of the first date James Joyce shared with his wife Nora. Ulysses at one time was not just used as an end cap to some elitist's bookshelf but was once a taboo object in America and had to purchased on the literary black market (just imagine the mules in this market) thanks to its sexually explicit parts.

At Guestroom records in Oklahoma City I found a $4 LP where an Irish actor reads a Leopold Bloom's soliloquy and an actress reads Molly Bleams yearning soliloquy from the chapter Penelope. It was purely inspired, lyrical writing that said "screw you!" to your grandma's notions of proper grammar. I'll reproduce a piece from the end of Molly's bit here:

"O and the sea the sea crimson sometimes like fire and the glorious sunsets and the figtrees in the Alameda gardens yes and all the queer little streets and pink and blue and yellow houses and the rosegardens and the jessamine and geraniums and cactuses and Gibralter as a girl where I was a Flower of the mountain yes when I put the rose in my hair like the Andalusian girls used or shall I wear a red yes and how he kissed me under the Morrish wall and I thought well as well him as another and then I asked him with my eyes to ask again yes and then he asked me would I yes to say yes my mountain flower and first I put my arms around him yes and drew him down to me so he could feel my breasts all perfume yes and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I will Yes."

Thank you Writer's Almanac. And thank you James Joyce for not joining the priesthood. And thank you God for not striking him down for producing these works. Well, there was the eye thing...

Queer Folk

Last week the Gazette ran two of my musicological adventures. I thought the interview with snarky, rude punk rock veterans The Queers was a good one and not very punk at all in that needle in your nose punch in the nose way. I caught Joe Queer on the e-mail shortly after watching a Ramones documentary. It brought back memories of all the fine people I knew in high school who got a motivational boost from Joey, Dee, Johnny and the gang. And it sounds like Joe Queer is just as indebted.

Interview with Joe Queer of The Queers
For The Oklahoma Gazette

How true is the song "Hi Mom it's me?" Despite the story of the lyrics, what does your mom think of your work?

Haha she doesn't think much of the band mainly cause of the name. When she saw us open for The Ramones once I dedicated the song to her.

Have you seen The Ramones documentary End of the Century? The film shows the impact the band had not just on big time musicians like Thurston Moore and Kirk Hammet of Metallica but on pissed off kids in South America and all over the world. And they really touched kids with three chord songs. They showed that any one could do it. And if you are young and self conscious, they were the band that gave a feeling of encouragement and self respect (that girls, drinking, drugs and old music).

Yeah I heard The Ramones and a light went off and I saw my path in life. They taught me so many important things-question things,don't take yourself too seriously,be able to laugh at yourself. They touched many kids. Dave our bassist and I toured Europe and China playing with Marky Ramone last year which was a thrill for both of us. Great guy.

Was there a time in your life when you had an epiphany of sorts, whether it was the Ramones or another band, where you realized you could write songs with your friends and connect to a wide audience with similar disgusts, crushes, life experiences, etc.?

Yeah-I had sent Joey Ramone and cassette tape with 4 songs on it around 1986 or '87. About 3 weeks later I got backstage at a Ramones' show and went up to him and told him I was from The Queers-he immediately told me he loved "Love Love Love" and "Goodbye California"-2 songs on our Grow Up album. He said he wanted to cover "Love Love Love" and that it was a great song. Right then I thought maybe I could do music if he believed in me. Really meant so much to me.

Are love songs (like I Think She's Starting to Like Me) the most fun to write?

Definitely. I wish I could play all those poppy songs all the time instead of the fast shit.
You've had a lot of different band mates. Did you ever find new members on tour? Was it easy to assimilate new guys into the band after one would leave?
We never added anyone new in the middle of a tour. Kicked a few people out and had a few fly in but they were all part of our 'family' and had played with us before. New guys bring enthusiasm and a new dynamic to the band when they come on board. We have a pretty set lineup again with Matt Drastic and Dangerous Dave on drums and bass respectively. We recorded one of our greatest albums-Pleasant Screams-together and we'll do a new album later this year.

Have you always been the main songwriter? Who (if there is one) ended up being a favorite songwriting partner?

Yeah I write most of the songs though I love writing with others. My faves are definitely Ben Weasel and Lisa Marr. We have come up with some great stuff.

What made you jump to the homey label Asian Man to re release some of the older records?

Well Lookout was going out of business and we needed to get the albums out of there. Mike Park had done the Screeching Weasel reissues so we went with him. Great label. Runs it out of his garage and always pays the bands on time.

Are the songs coming to you just as easy these days?

No I am on the down side of the hill. I am more into opening a recording studio in NH after tour and starting to produce bands. That's what gets me out of bed in the morning. We'll do a great album though this year. I am starting to get it together.

How are the fans on your most recent tour? Is it a good mix of older fans and newer ones? Are they just as crazy?

Yeah lots of new young kids and some old ones. Weird mix this tour.

What would you say is the single ( or top 3) biggest lesson (s) you've playing in a rock band since 1982?

I wanted to get laid and travel the world and do drugs and drink all the time and make money etc etc........but the real reason I have kept playing is cause something deep inside me told me to take that path to learn those lessons in life that I needed to learn. I haven't regretted a thing. Anyone can take the safe path and make their car payments on time and live that unfulfilling slothful life-never taking any chances and having a 2 week vacation once a year and working with assholes......that shit is all cool but not for me. So here I am and still wondering what's around the bend in the river as far as what life has in store for me and loving it. Still excited to get out of bed every day.

Big Fish

I won't be posting for a few days, as I haven't the days before. Things are things and Tim Russert is dead, and the political world just feel darker.

The egos of Washington and media couldn't hold a candle to Russert's good natured grillings. Research, research. The 1 hour program ooooozed savvy research.

I watched Meet the Press every Sunday. He gathered politicians and columnists for the best show in politics.

Today I remember his Scott McClellan interview. How he finds the videos and incriminating statements he does was a gas. This McClellan video showed Scott leaving the white house. George Bush was putting his arm around Scott, sayings ooooh we'll be sharing old stories on the rocking chairs down in Texas.

Then it cuts out and Russert asks McClellan if that will still be happening.

He had it, he was old school and he was a pro. Light a candle for the good of the world. Here's a link.

http://www.nytimes.com/2008/06/15/weekinreview/15leibovich.html?_r=1&oref=slogin#

Band Management

Here at my home as I listened to the Oak Trees whisper in their rustle to me, I thought with my passion for collecting music that I might make a good label founder someday. I know nothing of the switches and knobs and of the copyrighting and everything else.
But I have a pair of friends, brothers (“We are a family band” I told people) who are writing songs together. So I thought I would help them on this one night.

I believe band management is a formal term for friendship.
Here some notes in a kind of bullet form taken from the first night.
June 7, 2008 The Conservatory: The Nghiems are 1st to play, openers for Mocha Band (friend from The Daily), Approaching August (good people) and Umbrellas.

12 demo Cds handed out.

Accepted donations, won 2 dollars. Handed one CD to Rhett Holmes, head of Neptunes concert and promotions.

Got James’s friend Boggs to sign his name on the fan list to set a precedent. 3 more folks signed.
Sound check @ 7:21, 2 hours after arrival

Never been to the Conservatory at 5:30 before. White light pours through windows. In the light, you can see the rubble, the chipped paint and smell the hot thickness of the place.
Take drums kit parts out of the mini van and into the building through the back. Dustin opens the gate and a big ole boy with a metal shirt and a mohawk straps our wristbands on.

Sound check @ 7:21

Perks: Each band crew gets a case of Aquafina water.

Seth from student film and his girlfriend, the music writer Beck Carmen sit next to me at the merch table. Becky gets more crossword words than I (architects build “to scale,” she figured, better than our civil engineer in the crew Andy Nghiem could remember).

Jim gives David advice after their performance, he watches every band. He works long days at Size Records and long nights at The Conservatory. He is a hairy man of the people. I tell him I bought a Bob Hadley “American Primitive” acoustic guitar album, and he knows what’s inside the cover, everything. He then gives me the names of three artists I have never heard of, but will probably like..

Sound check only lasts 2 mintues, this could be an asset for us in the future. Nghiems, the resourcefuls.

Nghiems begin set at 8:05

A few people bob heads

“Things are never quite interesting….” the lyric goes at 8:24, but it has been an interesting night I think. I didn't have to kill a man, but still had fun.

“It’s the end of the world, but I think it’ll be okay, with my hand touching yours...”
Set ends with Master David's best lyric.

One small girl who signs our list says she really likes the band's music and can’t wait for more… Her favorite song was the second to last one.

Minus: Need to know band catalogue better...

Plus: Talks to plenty of people. Generated a good feeling for the Nghiems.

Pending...The Nghiems spent two hours in the studio recording their first track the other night.

Obama

I know that I haven't said anything about the biggest news story around. Perhaps I should learn how to lay out my pages better first. Nah. Anyway my thoughts on Barack Obama are almost instinctual. And with a lot of the people I talk to, I figure that's all we have sense the world of legislation, policies, history are so murky and mysterious to us. So I am going to make public a private music I wrote in January when Obama upset Hillary in Iowa. This, for me, was when the potential for this guy become real to me. It deals with Obama the rhetorician.

Thoughts on Obama, history and words on this morning of January 8th
Listening: Bob Dylan: "Changing of the Guard"


If I were Barack Obama this would be my campaign song. But I think he knows what he’s doing. Aretha Franklin, “Think.” Not bad at all. Lot of soul there. A song like that sounds a bit like Obama looks when he walks to the podium with his long, black (skin and suit) presidential arm. It’s incredible the feeling that has crept into the minds of people, columnists, the media. We workers of words.

After Obama charmed Iowa the media thusly tore down Hillary. Everyone from Scarborough to CNN anchors were calling her everything but ugly. Then I knew that this lifetime politician had no chance at the presidency.

And what is the presidency anyway? It’s the face. All we really require (and what hasn’t been done in 7 years, as far as I can tell) is for the man in the executive chair to make a few key executive decisions, stand on a few solid principles and make us feel calm and secure in times of duress. And I have little doubt that Obama can do these things after a few tough years of learning. Look at Diane Sawyer’s dreamy eyes when she interviews the man. He just shot her full of enough self confidence just by talking about JFK landing on the moon; and that…somehow…relates to his campaign?

Maybe in the logical realm Obama doesn’t make sense. But the idea of Obama is absolutely intoxicating. If a guy like him commands our television screens I could find it easier to see this age of irony (perpetuated by commercialism, internet choices, television, fashion, the old guard parents, suburban expansion, Adult Swim, pot, college, gentrification, poor rich divide etc, etc) slowly erode into dust like a fart in the wind. Life and having “fun” in America has always smelt a bit that way to me, the way people walk and talk like they are scared of something. The way they tear the pettiest things down because they are petty. The way we avoid argument.
No one thinks about that maybe life is about enduring and sacrifice, and Obama is the only guy I’ve seen talk about sacrfice, changing our tune which has been dissonant to me for quite some time.
….

Mostly when I think of Obama I think of him sitting alone (as pictured). Away from his family, the press, the campaign advisers. I think of him sitting alone being lit by the florescent rays emanating from his lap top. He noticed the wind outside cuz he’s sensitive to that kind of stuff. And I think of Obama, writer of 2 books. Obama who reads Phillip Roth to calm down (good God!). That I can really relate to this man seems clear. I can see him finding the perfect words to inspire people. Lumbering and laboring over his next piece of rhetoric, which in his mind feels like reality. The kind of emotions this kind of writing stirs in people is unique in today’s landscape.

And it was all over the place in the sixties.

No one really lived up to the words though. My first favorite journalist described an ethereal thing that I feel now.

...

Strange thoughts on this nervous night in Las Vegas. Five years later? Six? It seems like a lifetime, or at least a Main Era--the kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle sixties was a very special time and place to be a part of. Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run … but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant…

History is hard to know, because of all the hired bullshit, but even without being sure of “history” it seems entirely reasonable to think that every now and then the energy of a whole generation comes to a head in a long fine flash, for reasons that nobody really understands at the time --and which never explain, in retrospect, what actually happened …

You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning…

And that, I think, was the handle -- that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting -- on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave.

And upon reading those words I embarked on a career in journalism, not knowing really what it would entail, never all the way forgetting that a man wrote words like that about a real place. It was mysterious, and somehow to me it was all true. I forgot those words for a very long time, but I was still going in the direction where those words had initially shot me. It wasn’t until I saw Barack Obama give his speech at the Iowa caucus that those words came flooding back to me in all clarity. This “we don’t need to fight” was very apparent in the man’s cool demeanor upon subtle attacks on his race and experience at the last debate. He never lost his cool or played dirty politics. It was a peace attack of the first order.

The “long fine flash” of a generation in one moment seemed to me to be in the hands of this candidate. He doesn’t need a plan, I think, if he can hold on to that flash for a little while longer. And maybe he’s not our friend. But right now, we need one so bad, that we are willing to take a chance.
…

It’s nowhere in media or politics the kind of words we are now hearing on TV. And it’s always been in the finest American literature. So it’s been there. It’s just we’ve lost touch with the ineffable. We’ve lost touch with the mysterious. I think of Thompson, Fitzgerald, Thomas Wolffe and Melville writing as if their only muse was enthusiasm. And with that enthusiasm you can break rules and make your own. You step out of your role, that tired old European tradition, as an omniscient narrator and you talk man-to-man to the reader, or listener. You can lead your reader through the streets and big houses of your mind without it sounding like bankrupt bravado. What will the audience think of this brazen talk? As Joanna Newsom (an American poet of her own order) mentions in one of her epics, “they will follow you there.”

See, Obama has plenty of time to make this place reality. That’s what his cabinet will be for. That’s what citizens are for. What he has done here and now is much more mysterious and much harder; and it hasn‘t been done in quite some time. My friends and I may have never seen anything like it. He’s compelled us to follow him there, wherever that is.

Helio Sequence Transcript

Thursday at Opolis the crafters of one of the 10 best albums of the year (hype machine, i know) Helio Sequence will play. Tickets will be around 12 bucks.


I interviewed the drummer of the Oregon band, and he had some cool things to say about the band's music, advertising and indie rock, an Elliot Smith homage as well as fielded my fan-ny Modest Mouse inquiries.

The feature form story ran in today's Gazette, but much more was covered in the conversation than I had room to include.


http://www.okgazette.com/p/12853/a/2153/Default.aspx?ReturnUrl=LwBEAGUAZgBhAHUAbAB0AC4AYQBzAHAAeAAslashAHAAPQAxADIANwA0ADgA

Though I would encourage you to pick up a real copy, because there's more to that one than the online version.

Interview with Benjamin Wiekel of Helio Sequence
For Oklahoma Gazette
May 15, 2007









You and Brandon have known each other since middle school. How did you meet, what did you bond over and how the hell have you been able to play music together for so many years?

We've met through my younger brother, he was friends with my younger brother and we really started hanging out because he would crash at our family's house back in the day and we'd stay up late watching 120 Minutes and Bohemia After Dark and other alternative video programs. We started to trade local bands CDs; eventually we'd mess around with instrument, just playing around the house. I don't know, we are just really good friends and we've had ups and downs and that's part of knowing anyone that long. I can't imagine playing with anyone else.

Where is Matt Pinfeld (host of 120 Minutes) these days?

It's always cool, there's different moments in time where there's actually different filters for music. And I'm sure some people today are super stoked about Pitchfork and different media filters. But there's definitely something cool about Bohemia. I really loved the Bohemia After Dark Show I found so many bands on that. Videos I think are really cool.

You made a recent video with Fred Armisen of Saturday Night Live?

It was a lot of fun to make it he's a really great guy and he was really serious about it. He was showing us these really obscure videos he wanted to kind of mimic. He just called one day and said, ' hey I heard your song and he told me all these ideas and I said sure.
I love the character he does on the Wilco dvd. That's amazing.

From the opening ambience of "Lately" to "Keep Your Eyes Ahead" and "Hallelujah" this album feels big and joyous. If there was a possibility the band wouldn't be able to go on with Brandon's vocal cord injury I wondered what the mindset going into recording was? Was this a celebration album?

I mean it really kind of was in a weird way. Not just from the vocal stand point. But also when I was playing with Modest Mouse I ended being a really weird time for our band. It really was. It was like, everything is behind us, let's make up. It felt really good. The whole process was really natural and super enjoyable.

When you drummed with Modest Mouse they had a hit record, and you toured on that. That must have been a confusing time.

Yeah. It wasn' t necessarily confusing. My plan was never to stick with it. It was certainly tempting, that's for sure. On one hand you can be in this huge band with all this success, on the other hand your best friend that you've been making music with since you were a kid. Well, it ended up not being a hard choice.
There are a lot of lyrics about youths being misguided, pacified by strip malls? I feel as if you are singing about me and my friends. What kind of differences in the young people who go to rock shows today compared to kids you may bump into in Oregon in the early 90s.
Well I mean I don't know if things are as innocent as they were in the early 90s. There was definitely something so pure about that era. But you know, maybe that' s just part of being young. Maybe they feel innocent . I'm not a kid anymore so it's tough to say. It just seemed like the early nineties were a pure, innocent point for music and it's interesting now what started in the late 80s, the early indie labels and that whole concept of alternative means of putting out music, has become almost mainstream.

And it's definitely grown but it's also partially because people are losing interest in bigger labels and that kind of sound and people just downloading music for free. It's a combination of different things. It's interesting at this point in time that indie bands can make a living without selling many records. There are so many great things happening every month. It's almost like a crazy saturation point. How much good music can you listen to?

I was just having a conversation with my brother about Lou Reed. He's downloading all the new songs every day, and I'm telling him, you have to work backward.

For any true music lover. I feel like at least a lot of my friends in Portland are having a hard time getting into newer things. Maybe that's a musician thing.

You mentioned bands making a living without selling many records. Some of the songs on your new record could attract the attention of commercial makers, or television shows. Have you or will you give your songs to something like that?

I mean you can't really say no when something offers . That's definitely a way a band can make a living these days. A license like that can float you. You can live off it for almost a year. When things like that come along I feel like it's kind of a blessing. I don't know that a whole lot of bands think about that when they are making music. Artists have found it's a way to make a living. It's kind of hard to turn it down. It depends on the company, what its ideals are.

Commercial is so bizarre. It's odd to me that people pay so much to produce and advertise and everything is advertising; it s interesting to me that it even works. They spend that much money, you know how expensive it is to advertise a CD sometimes, I wonder how people even afford that. And even ,like, it's a weird time too, on Myspace it seems like people are advertising themselves. It's a world of advertising. Me personally, I'm poor enough where I wouldn't feel weird doing it.

I just finished school at The University of Oklahoma journalism school. And it felt like half of our education was on how to advertise ourselves as journalists, not about some crooked city manager.

It's the same thing with music almost. You could come up with a cool sound and it may not matter. They'll ask you 'How are you going to sell this,' and most artists are like, 'I don't know. Isn't that what you are supposed to do?'

Hallelujah sounds like a song about faith, a kind of secular but strong faith in people. Did writing the lyrics and writing the music go hand in hand with this song?

Actually that one was definitely one of the songs we musically have been kicking around for a while. It has a few different incarnations. We were really unsure about it. We liked the music but without the right vocals we could never seem to pull it together. I was going through all of these songs on [Brandon's Summers, vocalist] hard drive.

Brandon visited the family over Christmas break in 2006, so I had his hard drive and he had all these diff songs. And I pulled that one up and was kind of blown away. It was funny because the demos were so you could tell he's kind of making things up on the spot. You could tell he did it really quickly. There wasn't any more than a verse that he recorde[on Hallelujah]. I kind of cut things up, kind of making it sound like it was a real take. He came back and said, 'oh wow I think this is actually really cool.

It was finally a song. That was a weird one. It took a while for that one to come together.

This may be a hard question to answer "Hallelujah" in particular the drums rain down on the track. And I feel like I can say, those are Ben Weikel drums. It's a unique drum style with high energy. I was wondering if there was a point where you settled into a particular style and found a way of playing that worked for The Helio Sequence.

I mean I guess so. I definitely. I don't if it's necessarily only dependent on Helio Sequence. [I interrupt with some crap about Modest Mouse]
It was different with Modest Mouse.
[He politely resumes] There is something about the way Brandon and I work together. Im sort of in rhythmic freedom. I feel like it's kind of like orchestrating. You could just have a regular fast beat ' 1, 2, 3, 4 and be kind of keeping time. There's something about the way we work together. I feel like I can put a lot more accents and more flowery rhythmic things there. I really enjoy playing with the Helio Sequence.

It's tough to say if there's a distinct point where I found something particular. I feel like I've been drumming all this time and our band evolved. As that evolved my playing is better, the lyrics and playing they kind of all evolved.

I read once that before recording Good News for People Who Love Bad News that Brock and the band played Dance Hall over and over for 12 hours or so? Is that true?

[Laughs] That might have been true with … I honestly think that Jeremiah was probably the person drumming when they did Dance Hall for hours and hours and hours. By the time I got into that project I literally had 6 days of practice before we went into the studio. They played me Dance Hall and I just did whatever I did to it. I do remember hearing the demo for it. I think when they were jamming I think it was a lot cooler, more how it was supposed to be. Also, there's something about that record that was kind of more of a polished thing. Dance hall is really supposed to be more of a crazy thing it didn't quite fit in with the other stuff we were working with.

Did touring with Mouse, then going out with Helio Sequence build endurance. Make you like a super drummer?

[Laughs] When I was playing 3 shows a night I think I got to be a better drummer. I'm in better shape now than I've ever been. I think about different things playing wise. I just try to be the best drummer I can. I definitely feel more [comfortable] now doing Helio Sequence.
You guys combine different musical eras very well. And Modest Mouse does this and I know you toured with the Ugly Casonva gang.

I'm going to go back to The Harmonica Song. The Harmonica is played in an old, old bluesy style on that song which is also very digital. On the new record No Regrets is straight up stomping and old in a record with a lot of futuristic ambient sound. Would you say that is a constant concern for the band, to pay homage to an old style of American music while making that music in the digital age, with ambience, keyboard, melody loops? What kind of impact has more traditional American music on you?

I think that you know we don't necessarily feel like we have to do anything like that. It's more over the years. When we made this record, we've always been into listening to all types of music. I think when Brandon lost his voice it wasn't just that either one of us was listening to that kind of music; he actually learned all these traditional American folk songs. It kind of became this, there's almost like there was this side thing going on with Brandon where we have these modern songs and then we had all these acoustic songs too that none of us really thought were going to fit together.

And in it seemed like this is what we were into and this what we've gone through. Lyrically, it makes sense. We try to not be afraid to take chances. Yeah there's definitely other types of music we are both very fond of. We are definitely conscious, too, of not trying to do anything where it's easy to hear rudimentary influences. We really try to express all these different things we love about music in each song.


You guys travel light. Guitar, drums, keys a computer. Has this made touring easier? What have you been bringing on this tour.

We actually don't travel that light. We probably have the equipment that four guys would have. It's actually a lot of work. Brandon has two huge guitar amps. I have two huge keyboard speakers, an amp our computer wrap. We definitely bring a lot of stuff and it's a lot of work.

You covered "Satellite" on a recent Portland group tribute to Elliot Smith. Did you know, share ideas with Smith back in the day in Portland? What brought you to "Satellite" and how did you go about putting your own stamp on the song while paying respect.

I mean. We really didn't get a chance. We were a little too young. We used to go and watch Heatmesier. We were definitely around and seeing what was going on and influenced by that era of Portland music. I never got a chance to meet him. By the time we hooked up with [Smith's early label] I think he already moved on to L.A. He was doing his thing down there.

As far as 'Satellite,' one of the reasons we chose it was we felt we could be truthful to the song and to what Elliot Smith did and also add some things that felt more like Helio Sequence, and something that seemed like a balance. We didn't want to take one of his songs and totally slaughter it and change it too much. Even changing the vocal sound. We really wanted to be respectful of the song and I was really happy with how it turned out.

The Onslaught Begins...

Well, we, media watchers, will spend a good deal of time revisiting the good ole days. From the Michigan State/Indiana State match, to the commercials.

Granted nothing in the Kobe, Garnett matches up to the deep competetive history of Bird and Magic. But they may have their own fierce battle. I mean, it's two of the best, right? And 6 or 7 good games is all we can ask.

Former OU Daily colleague Baxter Holmes had the rare opportunitiy of talking to Bird and Magic on a conference call for his first story for The Boston Globe. Being a native Oklahoman, Bax settled on the home cookin' angle, which I'd say facilitiates nostalgia. It does me good as well:

http://www.boston.com/sports/basketball/celtics/articles/2008/06/04/bird_magic_still_linked/

Wolf at the Door

The new Wolf Parade is epic, a complete departure from Apologies to Queen Mary. I haven't even begun to decipher the lyrics, as they are shrouded in fuzz and wacky guitar play. But there is a lot in there about the radio, radio (which I definitely miss).

But none of the guitar play is wacky, this one traverses dance rock, casio epiphanies, ritualistic chanting and pop hooks. The closer Kissing a Beehive I never would've expected and all 11 minutes is great. It doesn't feel like they are noodling but walking a taut, long tight rope. For me this is the album to beat this year.

The album comes out soon. For now I recommend Spencer with the Sunset Rubdowners in London for these neat Black Cab Sessions.

http://www.blackcabsessions.com/sessions.php?id=1211923942&sort=chronological#

Wolf Parade will be in Dallas July 24 and Austin in July 25. I may hit both of them.

Ah, back to work...

Chills

I was able to secure advanced copies of my two most highly anticipated records and I'm currently having trouble doing anything productive (stories for next week) as the sounds of these records have me in grips.

In the liner notes of Fleet Foxes debut album, best taken as a listening companion to their EP, music is described as a private affair, a way of communing with the memory of the first time you heard a song. For them, it's the only medium that can transport you to another time. One track does this for me, to a time I cannot even conceive but can try.

How rare it is that people hear a sound that absolutely reminds of them of their own mortality. Fleet Foxes may be cribbing from beloved records of their mothers and fathers, but they have used them as a tin can telephone to the other world.

The example is the track Your Protector. Only listen to it moving 60 miles per hour or over. The acoustic stomp remembers the folk intensity of some Crosby, Stills, Nash, Young songs. The group harmonies resurrect the spirits that roll across the land and last longer than we do. It's not often that a track reminds you of forces beyond your control, but this one does.
Elsewhere, Blue Ridge Mountains affirms my decision to move near Carolina, Tennessee areas.

More on Wolf Parade soon which does remind one of the adventurous aim of Television's "Marquee Moon." Thank you press release...

I love you for sentimental reasons

As Ben Gibbard sings us his thoughts as only he sings them, you can’t help but think about your own life. Whether you admit it or not, if you’re of this generation, your thoughts probably sound a lot like his. His are literal, they are emotional, and they come after benchmark decisions and encounters. Your lying in your twin sized bed, you are at the Bixby canyon bridge, you think you are drunk enough to drive her home, and you are no closer to any kind of truth.

He’s like the guy who talks to himself when he’s walking alone, and hates walking alone. I get the impression that his life has been a series of relationships that were glorious once and burned away. In a recent essay in Paste magazine he confesses that he thought rock stardom would give him all the answers, but instead he feels just as pulverized by life as ever.

This is what Jack Kerouac felt when he wrote Big Sur. He let utter helplessness, alcohol and the despair of the people he loved consume him on that canyon where so many moneyed people vacation now. What’s worse is when fans were showing up at his door looking for some cheap rub off super Darma cool inspiration, man. Like the kids who walk up to Ben G and say “You know, I know I’m not supposed to…but I really liked your major label album.” So this is what fame really brings, more crap.

The wandering life of Jack Kerouac would be fun to deal with, but for Gibbard at mid 30s it’s the Big Sur that must be address. Kerouac’s latter year soul haunts on Bixby Canyon Bridge, the opening track of the new Death Cab for Cutie album “Narrow Stairs.”

Gibbard wrote these songs at the sight where Kerouac realized he shouldn’t write anymore, Big Sur. That text I have read. And I read it because there was a time in my life where I would follow Jack anywhere. It was summer and Norman was sunny and not populated. I had a bike. And every sparkling pool seemed deserted. I put beers in a book bag and jumped on my bike. This was the routine I kept for a few weeks reading all of Kerouac’s follow-up texts, which never matched that first thrill. Kerouac gave voice to the feelings I felt when I read On the Road. He gave me the ideal and then with Big Sur he crushed it. I put the book down and settled into lethargy.

Thankfully Gibbard went one step further and went to Big Sur. He one upped Jack because he came away from inner arguments, battles with the darker demon thoughts/memories with his creation. It shouldn’t be of any real big surprise. Gibbard’s voice has had, more than many of his contemporaries if not all save James Mercer of The Shins, this quality of nice. You guess his intentions are sincere, each syllable.

And this album touches on dark spots of middle age malaise As a result this is a darker record full of people who stalk girls and guys with insecurities like Bens. There are portents of apocalypse imagined during a California fire. In that track “Grapevine Fires” to fight the doom and gloom, Gibbard offers us young life, a girl dancing against a horizon all ablaze and the girl next to him that he’s drinking wine with in a paper cup, apropos of an early Death Cab song that comes to mind (“Champagne in a Paper Cup is never quite the same”) I guess when you are older and throw away all your illusions about material things bringing you happiness, drinking from the paper cup is even sweeter.

So, in one track you are seeing utter peace and utter destruction in song, which makes for challenging, rewarding art in this case.
In the imaginary conversation with Jack, saying he’s searching “for the place where your soul had died.” After he leaves, he wanders back to his car “no closer to any kind of truth.”

If you are a dimestore existentialist you might say that because each person has a unique life experience. A guy named Kierkegaard once held that instead of dealing in abstract principles (for example THE IDEA OF On the Road which is very fucking abstract and alluring) we should focus on the particularity of experience and its essentially individual nature, and only in this way do we come to realize our utter freedom (I quote from some one else’s summation). You feel fear, but that is okay because the fear is indicating that you realize how utterly free you are.

So Ben says goodbye to Jack, the ideal wandering American troubadour of light, and he starts digging back into his own weird, awkward stories. And voila! It’s a hit record. Surprise, surprise.
I’ve always thought this band original and that thought hasn’t changed.

I credit the unique chemistry of the band. The atmospheres inspire thought, and the words give vivid images. This combination has given plenty of aimless Me Generationers something good to listen to. I’ve been listening to Ben’s little stories since my best friend in high school gave me a top five with DCFC written at the top.

“Which album?” I asked.

“All of them. Photo Album might be the best”

The lunch bell rang.

He gave me Death Cab, which I still have, just as I‘m sure everyone who has has that first time they read On the Road. When our friendship died it was dead. I didn’t realize it and I fought it. Only till we both realized the thing was dead, could we be alive again. Him there and me here. To miss my friend is to be alive. To listen to the music we shared is to be alive…