|
ALLEY | MAIN ROOM | juke |espresso yourself | bands | av-room | spoken word | photos | recollections | bs
|
|
ALLEY | MAIN ROOM | juke |espresso yourself | bands | av-room | spoken word | photos | recollections | bs
|
MISSIVE FROM THE MUDDY BANKS OF THE 210...
|
*Exerpt from "Mixtape: The Art Of Cassette Culture" It’s a sickness, really, this compiling. Since I was wee I have felt to be an arbiter of mood through the sequential playing of organized sound. As little more than a lad I’d turn the new hi-fi speakers my Old Man was so proud of inward and dangle the lo-fi mic between the grills, capturing the songs I was currently enamored of, dutifully hitting the pause button on the tape recorder on the tail end of the fade out. When I barely graduated from High School, the Old Man gave me a choice: He would either pay for college, or give me a thousand dollars cash for a new fuck-all stereo of my very own. One guess which way I went on that one. In retrospect, I’m sure was brutally ripped off by the blow-dried moustache I bought the thing from, but damn if it wasn’t the best grand I ever blew. Bolstered by a dead-end gig at the local used record store, I amassed a massive collection of vinyl, which I dissected over and over, laying the pieces end to end on magnetic tape. These were the purest moments of the affliction, constructing my own private radio station, one that could match my teenage psychosis riff for riff, made for no other consumption than mine. Soon, though, I discovered that one’s musical tastes could be used to unlock the holiest of holy places, what lived beneath the Jordache jeans of whatever unsuspecting girl I played sensitive for. Then it all went weird. The play lists became designed for the big payoff: hopeless fumblings in the front seat, two wine coolers and straight to third base, followed by the weeping and Her “borrowing” the tape in question because of that Jackson 5 song that reminded Her of the Ex-Boyfriend who just shipped out from San Diego. And so it has been, carefully constructing the sets to achieve the desired effect, be they salacious or self absorbed. With the advent of computers and the birth of the Internet it just got downright silly. CD burners and file sharing programs are to me like a mountain of cocaine and an ever-burning crack pipe are to David Crosby; fodder for an infinite appetite. The ability to literally churn out set after set, with only eyestrain as payment, is the most magical gift that technology could ever lay on me. On little more than a hunch, I can troll the archives, arrange to suit the lighting, and *presto* I’m a genius all over again. Now, that being said, I give you a play list that will open your eyes to the simple truth that says all you have to do to live like a rock star is know which rock stars to like, The One That I am Currently Puttting On For My Lady Friend 1. 20th Century Boy – T Rex |
MISSIVE FROM THE MUDDY BANKS OF THE 210...
LUST AND LOCUST IN THE FOOTHILLS...
GENTRIFIED? CHICKENFRIED...
FOR WHO IS THE GENTRY, NOWADAYS?...
patG
– Back in the 'Dena, after too long in limbo, and gradually putting it all back together. Among recent topics of debate...Where we went right, what happened to all the stuff, how's your uncle, and who, exactly, is responsible? Send any thoughts, opinions or punchlines to griefinc13@hotmail.com...
– A fine photography opening was attended at the Metro Gallery on fabled Raymond Ave. two weeks ago, where a spirited discussion on the above topics (as well as the dangers of mixing red wine and tequila) was engaged with proprietors Tom and Patty. Also, ran into Wes Boudville and various other folks from back in the day. Everyone asked about you (in the royal sense) and I told them you (again: royal) were fine...
— The distinct possbility of a massive, month-long restrospective at the Metro celebrating the aforementioned "back in the day" was also kicked around. The skinny: collect as many artifacts (the lanterns, Frankenstein, the jukebox, the man in the TV, etc.) as we can and create an historic Espresso Bar Installation, to coincide with the 30th anniversary of the Dooh Dah Parade, that would feature current and past works by a stellar array of artists, musicians, writers, filmmakers, and familiar faces that were all there at the right time to know what I'm talking about. Whaddya think?...
— APRIL '06 PLAYLIST
(dig around on your internet machine and find these songs or email me for links)
Similak Child Black Sheep
Wherever You Are Neil Finn
Si Tu Disais Calexico
Wild Wood Paul Weller
Cold Irons Bound Bob Dylan
Smiling Faces Sometimes The Dramatics
Blue Flowers Dr. Octagon
Get Down Moses Joe Strummer
Spooky The Grays
Little Dreamer Van Halen
I Might Be Wrong Radiohead
Do Your Thing Charles Wright
The Riverboat Song Ocean Colour Scene
Never Stop Echo and the Bunnymen
What Do You Want From Life The Tubes
Gut Feeling Devo
So Much Better Moke
The Ghost At Number One Jellyfish
Satan Is My Motor Cake
1. Similak Child: Black Sheep
— In '92 I'd be driving around San Francisco in my ex•girlfriend's mini•truck bumping this jam until my head throbbed. "Like a punk on dick street, a coupon in the ghetto, I said 'Hon, whatcha drinkin?', She said milk and amaretto..." Indeed.
2. Wherever You Are: Neil Finn
— A weird song, to be sure..at first all chick rock sounding, but about mid•way through the hiccuping carnival organ and ridiculously simple melody redeem the tune's freaky stalker vibe...
3. Si Tu Disais: Calexico
— It could be Barcelona where, in a clatteringly loud bar, on a brick paved street, in the middle of the afternoon, a furtive lover whispers, "Every wall, every crack, I'm sick and tired of this place..." into your salty ear.
4. Wild Wood (Portishead remix): Paul Weller
— If you were on a stake•out, armed only with your wits, riding a matte black Vespa, you'd need a certain sneer on your lips and a twangy baritone guitar riff...
5. Cold Irons Bound: Bob Dylan
• Me, Bob, John Dillinger and Jesse James walk into a bar...
6. Smiling Faces Sometimes The Dramatics
— How many times do I gotta tell ya this? A healthy sense of distrust and suspicion has kept me afloat for more years than I can remember. Take heed...
7. Blue Flowers: Dr. Octagon
— "Shakespeare's gone, don't even think about it...". Thank you for clearing that up for me.
8. Get Down Moses: Joe Strummer
— Me, Joe, Bruce Lee and Tookie Williams walk into a bar...
9. Spooky: The Grays
— Driving north on the 710, choking on the monolouge you just delivered to an answering machine, and chain smoking in sobbing jerks and fits. Then realising the bitch had it coming to her and heading towards Zorthian's Ranch to watch the sun rise...
10. Little Dreamer: Van Halen
— David Lee Roth? Second biggest cock in show business, behind the immortal Milton Berle. My hand to God, true story...
11. I Might Be Wrong: Radiohead
— The sound of coming unraveled. Loudly.
12. Do Your Thing: Charles Wright and The Watts 103rd St. Band
• Dig the fucking tamborine. I can just see the cat, working that shit out on stage in a dive on Crenshaw and Normandy, the air thick with menthol smoke.
13. The Riverboat Song: Ocean Colour Scene
— If Pirates listened to Oasis...
14. Never Stop: Echo and the Bunnymen
• Remeber cello bass lines and big hair?...
15. What Do You Want From Life?: The Tubes
— A song filled with valid questions and distinct possibilities. "...or a baby's arm holding an apple..." • Best punchline in rock history.
16. Gut Feeling: Devo
— Sitting on the curb, outside the Olympic Auditorium, waiting for your cool uncle to
pick you up after your first punk show, when up pulls a new Mercedes full of west side girls, who take you to Canters for matzo ball soup and cocaine, then to Daddy's condo for a trip to third base and more coke, only to pass out next to the hot tub and wake up three hours later without your glasses and a handful of pubic hair...
17. So Much Better: Moke
— And I am feeling much better, thank you.
18. The Ghost At Number One Jellyfish
— Me, You, Brian Wilson, and Rodney Bingenheimer walk into a bar...
19. Satan Is My Motor: Cake
• The spastic movements I am currently making are actually a cryptic form of dancing. You should give it a shot. It's done wonders for me...