When I first moved to NYC, 12 years ago, I used to go an internet cafe on Bleecker
Street (it's still there....right across from John's Pizzeria, which is my favorite) to apply for jobs and look for apartments, and find a
band....which are very daunting tasks when you're new in the city, to
say the least.
On one particular day, I was doing my thing like
any other day. I'd put my backpack underneath the table I was sitting
at. In this backpack were my resumes, a walkman & a few mix
cassette tapes (again, they were very lean times, and it was in 2000),
notebooks with lyrics, and a folder with all of my resume copies as well
as job/band/apartment leads -- basically, a bunch of shit that I
NEEDED, but wouldn't be worth jack shit to anyone else.
As I got
up to leave, I reached underneath the table....no backpack. I
looked....and it was gone. POOF! Clearly, someone had pulled a fast
one, literally, right under my nose, and stolen my backpack. Great. I
was SO pissed off, but mostly, I was pissed at myself for allowing that
to happen.
I went back to the apartment in Hell's Kitchen that I was renting a room in,
and watched tv, still very pissed off. The phone rang. It was some
dude who worked at a diner down the street from the internet cafe that
I'd been at. He said that he'd found my bag in the bathroom, and asked
if I'd like to come down and get it.
I went to the diner, grabbed
my bag....and there was NOTHING missing. I ordered up a cheeseburger,
and asked the dude at the counter how they'd found my bag. He said that
some dude who appeared to be quite shady (probably a junkie) had come
into the diner....gone into the bathroom for several minutes....then
left. He apparently realized how worthless the items in my bag were (to
him) and left it there.
On one hand, some asshole had stolen from me....on the other, someone else was kind enough to return it to me. I had fallen prey to the anonymous thief by being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and been blessed with the kindness of a complete stranger, both in less than two hours.
Welcome to New York!
Monday, May 14, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
If I Had Known What I Was Getting Into....or....My First Day In New York
I rolled into town feeling like a cold caller trying to sell beige slacks on June 1, 2000, with about 3 grand (in checks & money orders) rolled up in my sock, over a hundred pounds of luggage on my bruised shoulders, and little the fuck else.
I flew in from Minneapolis after spending one last night with my ex-girlfriend, then leaving her and my group of best friends & life as I knew it...and there was no turning back. (I that believe you CAN "look back" every once in awhile - to reflect, which is what I'm doing here).
On my flight, I remember the pilot saying through the loudspeaker, "Ladies & Gentlemen.....uuuuuuuuummmmmm.....if you look to the left of the aircraft.....uuuuuummmmm.....that's Lake Erie...."
It was then that it occurred to me that I didn't know where the fuck I was going to be in a day, much less a week, a month, or a year! Sure, it sounds exciting and romantic, and all of that crap....but when it's right in front of your face like a burning jungle, it's more than a little bit daunting and pretty fucking scary!
Well, I arrived at LaGuardia, and grabbed my luggage (consisting of a hockey bag that resembled an overstuffed burrito, a backpack, a case with my snare drum, sticks, and kick drum pedal....and I think I might have had my cymbal bag with me as well), and grabbed a cab to Manhattan. I was to go to the acting school where my good friend Alfredo worked and attended classes, grab the keys to his apartment in Bay Ridge (in South Brooklyn) and head to his house. So I rolled into this old brick building on Jane Street, with all of my crap....which I left in the stairwell (I figured, if anyone wants to carry this shit, BE MY GUEST). Looking like the dark shadow of death's understudy, I then walked up to the front desk.
"Hi....my friend Al should have left some keys in the desk for me.....??????"
The hag behind the desk squinted, took a look at me, pulled the desk drawer out, gave it a way-too-quick once-over, and dismissed me with, "I'm sorry....there's nothing here!"
Stunned, I asked, "Are you SURE? Can you please look AGAIN?"
"I JUST DID....there's nothing HERE!"
I began to panic. I tried to call Al, but he wasn't picking up. Perfect.
I didn't know what the fuck to do....I was beyond exhausted, and I didn't have anywhere to go, really. I was in a strange, ENORMOUS, cold, new place that I didn't know my way around yet, and I was weighed down with everything I owned in the world.
It then occurred to me that another buddy of mine, Lenny, was making the same move that I was, and he had emailed me his new # a week beforehand.
With nothing else to do, I called Lenny....thank CHRIST he was home.
"Hey Man....how are you? I'm completely SCREWED!"
"Well....that sucks, Man," he said, "....well....do you wanna come hang out for awhile? I'm in Astoria, but...."
I grabbed another cab, this time to Astoria, in the North-Western part of Queens....with a feeling of suspended animation, and also fucking RELIEF, that I at least could be under a friendly roof with all of my crap for at least the rest of the afternoon.
I rolled up to his apartment (which was either on 30th Ave, 30th Street, or 30th Road) and he was unpacking boxes....so I dropped my extra baggage in front if his front door, and fell into a chair.
Lenny, very nonchalantly asked, "Do you want a beer, Dude?"
It's your friends that pull you through.
I eventually got a hold of Alfredo late that night, and he apologized profusely, and said that I should head to his place. He also told me that his keys were, indeed, at that acting school of his where he said they would be, and that the wench at the acting school felt badly about missing them. Right - I'm sure that she's losing sleep over that to this day.
Anyway, I packed my luggage on my aching back and walked to the Subway for the ride to Al's house. What's funny about that, is that Lenny lived near Ditmars Ave in Queens, which is where the N Train starts....so, I got on board and rode into Manhattan, then I transferred to the R at Times Square (which was the only way I trusted myself to make such a transfer at that moment) to get to Al's place in Bay Ridge Ave, in Brooklyn, near where the R train ends. Case in point, I took the yellow line for about 3 hours, from one end to another, through 3 Burroughs, to finally rest my beyond-weary head.
Let's recap....I'd taken a cab from LaGuardia to Greenwich Village.....then got in another cab from there to Astoria, then took the train all the way from there to Bay Ridge Ave. My route that day basically was in the shape of a gigantic number 4!
It was after 4am when I finally got to Al's house. Before I crashed out in my sleeping bag on his floor, I called my Mom.
"I thought I'd hear from you a long time before now....where have you BEEN?"
"I'm too exhausted to tell you, but let's just say my shoulders are, literally, black & blue."
"OH MY GOD," she exclaimed, with a worried, almost-disgusted tone that even I had never quite heard at that point.
I told her I would call her the next day, and I proceeded to pass out on the most comfortable floor I've ever laid my head upon.
This was only the beginning....and it still causes explosions in my mind to think about now. But, if I'd known then what was waiting for me after that, I'd have told you it was all worth it. And I'm here to tell you that it was!
I flew in from Minneapolis after spending one last night with my ex-girlfriend, then leaving her and my group of best friends & life as I knew it...and there was no turning back. (I that believe you CAN "look back" every once in awhile - to reflect, which is what I'm doing here).
On my flight, I remember the pilot saying through the loudspeaker, "Ladies & Gentlemen.....uuuuuuuuummmmmm.....if you look to the left of the aircraft.....uuuuuummmmm.....that's Lake Erie...."
It was then that it occurred to me that I didn't know where the fuck I was going to be in a day, much less a week, a month, or a year! Sure, it sounds exciting and romantic, and all of that crap....but when it's right in front of your face like a burning jungle, it's more than a little bit daunting and pretty fucking scary!
Well, I arrived at LaGuardia, and grabbed my luggage (consisting of a hockey bag that resembled an overstuffed burrito, a backpack, a case with my snare drum, sticks, and kick drum pedal....and I think I might have had my cymbal bag with me as well), and grabbed a cab to Manhattan. I was to go to the acting school where my good friend Alfredo worked and attended classes, grab the keys to his apartment in Bay Ridge (in South Brooklyn) and head to his house. So I rolled into this old brick building on Jane Street, with all of my crap....which I left in the stairwell (I figured, if anyone wants to carry this shit, BE MY GUEST). Looking like the dark shadow of death's understudy, I then walked up to the front desk.
"Hi....my friend Al should have left some keys in the desk for me.....??????"
The hag behind the desk squinted, took a look at me, pulled the desk drawer out, gave it a way-too-quick once-over, and dismissed me with, "I'm sorry....there's nothing here!"
Stunned, I asked, "Are you SURE? Can you please look AGAIN?"
"I JUST DID....there's nothing HERE!"
I began to panic. I tried to call Al, but he wasn't picking up. Perfect.
I didn't know what the fuck to do....I was beyond exhausted, and I didn't have anywhere to go, really. I was in a strange, ENORMOUS, cold, new place that I didn't know my way around yet, and I was weighed down with everything I owned in the world.
It then occurred to me that another buddy of mine, Lenny, was making the same move that I was, and he had emailed me his new # a week beforehand.
With nothing else to do, I called Lenny....thank CHRIST he was home.
"Hey Man....how are you? I'm completely SCREWED!"
"Well....that sucks, Man," he said, "....well....do you wanna come hang out for awhile? I'm in Astoria, but...."
I grabbed another cab, this time to Astoria, in the North-Western part of Queens....with a feeling of suspended animation, and also fucking RELIEF, that I at least could be under a friendly roof with all of my crap for at least the rest of the afternoon.
I rolled up to his apartment (which was either on 30th Ave, 30th Street, or 30th Road) and he was unpacking boxes....so I dropped my extra baggage in front if his front door, and fell into a chair.
Lenny, very nonchalantly asked, "Do you want a beer, Dude?"
It's your friends that pull you through.
I eventually got a hold of Alfredo late that night, and he apologized profusely, and said that I should head to his place. He also told me that his keys were, indeed, at that acting school of his where he said they would be, and that the wench at the acting school felt badly about missing them. Right - I'm sure that she's losing sleep over that to this day.
Anyway, I packed my luggage on my aching back and walked to the Subway for the ride to Al's house. What's funny about that, is that Lenny lived near Ditmars Ave in Queens, which is where the N Train starts....so, I got on board and rode into Manhattan, then I transferred to the R at Times Square (which was the only way I trusted myself to make such a transfer at that moment) to get to Al's place in Bay Ridge Ave, in Brooklyn, near where the R train ends. Case in point, I took the yellow line for about 3 hours, from one end to another, through 3 Burroughs, to finally rest my beyond-weary head.
Let's recap....I'd taken a cab from LaGuardia to Greenwich Village.....then got in another cab from there to Astoria, then took the train all the way from there to Bay Ridge Ave. My route that day basically was in the shape of a gigantic number 4!
It was after 4am when I finally got to Al's house. Before I crashed out in my sleeping bag on his floor, I called my Mom.
"I thought I'd hear from you a long time before now....where have you BEEN?"
"I'm too exhausted to tell you, but let's just say my shoulders are, literally, black & blue."
"OH MY GOD," she exclaimed, with a worried, almost-disgusted tone that even I had never quite heard at that point.
I told her I would call her the next day, and I proceeded to pass out on the most comfortable floor I've ever laid my head upon.
This was only the beginning....and it still causes explosions in my mind to think about now. But, if I'd known then what was waiting for me after that, I'd have told you it was all worth it. And I'm here to tell you that it was!
Saturday, January 14, 2012
I Sold My Soul For a Song....or at least I should have....
Slim Dunlap, the former guitarist from the Replacements, had (has) a song on his first solo album, The Old New Me, that just might be the best song you've never heard. It's called "Taken On the Chin". It carries a lot of meaning for me....and I'll tell you why!
At the end of my college days, I used to see Slim play in a local coffee shop all the time. He showed up with his acoustic guitar, and served his songs straight up with no bullshit, but with a very affable vibe. He had a great rapport with his audience, because he presented himself with a wisdom and good humor that made him come off like Ronnie Wood meets Bob Dylan (for lack of a better way of describing it). I imagine that Izzy Stradlin' might have pulled up a chair and joined him, had he only been there. He was so cool in a very sincere sort of way.
Anyway, introduced this song, "Taken On the Chin" by relating a story about how he had once gotten clocked in the face and knocked down right on the street on Hennepin Ave in Minneapolis, by some random dude. Across the street was a police car, and Slim said that he walked to the car, and told the cop sitting in it that he had been assaulted and demanded that the perpetrator be arrested. The cop looked him up and down, then looked at the other guy as he was walking away, and said to Slim, "....taken on the chin...."
Then he played this song, and it kind-of floored me because the lyrics described how I felt and where I was at the time. "You call this a hell hole, 'Cause you can't call this a life, The only forgiveness you'll find here's at the edge of a knife.....and it's taken on the chin..."
And he meant it too, which made it mean even more to me, and I started thinking about my life and what I wanted out of it a little bit more deeply because of it. I was in that limbo faze where I didn't know what the fuck to do, but I knew that I was going to have to do SOMETHING, and was scared shitless. Scared of staying where I was, and also scared of leaving.
A couple of months later, he played with his band at a Rock N' Roll bar I regularly guzzled beer at with my homeboys. It was on some holiday weekend and it was raining, and the place was severely lacking in its usual numbers. I recall that I was in some pissy, whoa-is-me kind of mood that day, and was drowning my sorrows about some most-likely insignificant horseshit of the day. Then I heard Slim say into the mic, "This song is called 'Taken On the Chin'', so....I grabbed another beer and got my ass in front of the stage.
Again, there was hardly anyone there, but he still gave everything in his heart and soul to his performance and his songs, especially this one, and it really impressed me. And I learned a very valuable lesson. Whatever bullshit I was getting down and out about didn't fucking matter, because....THIS guy was playing his heart out, no matter how many people were there, and no matter who the fuck they were, because he was doing it for HIMSELF. I realized that I was going to have to do the same damn thing, in my own way and context.
And you know what? I believe that I always have, and can often recognize when others have too. I appreciate that sort of thing.
Anyway, here's the song.
Does it sound to you the same way it sounds to me?
Marty E.
At the end of my college days, I used to see Slim play in a local coffee shop all the time. He showed up with his acoustic guitar, and served his songs straight up with no bullshit, but with a very affable vibe. He had a great rapport with his audience, because he presented himself with a wisdom and good humor that made him come off like Ronnie Wood meets Bob Dylan (for lack of a better way of describing it). I imagine that Izzy Stradlin' might have pulled up a chair and joined him, had he only been there. He was so cool in a very sincere sort of way.
Anyway, introduced this song, "Taken On the Chin" by relating a story about how he had once gotten clocked in the face and knocked down right on the street on Hennepin Ave in Minneapolis, by some random dude. Across the street was a police car, and Slim said that he walked to the car, and told the cop sitting in it that he had been assaulted and demanded that the perpetrator be arrested. The cop looked him up and down, then looked at the other guy as he was walking away, and said to Slim, "....taken on the chin...."
Then he played this song, and it kind-of floored me because the lyrics described how I felt and where I was at the time. "You call this a hell hole, 'Cause you can't call this a life, The only forgiveness you'll find here's at the edge of a knife.....and it's taken on the chin..."
And he meant it too, which made it mean even more to me, and I started thinking about my life and what I wanted out of it a little bit more deeply because of it. I was in that limbo faze where I didn't know what the fuck to do, but I knew that I was going to have to do SOMETHING, and was scared shitless. Scared of staying where I was, and also scared of leaving.
A couple of months later, he played with his band at a Rock N' Roll bar I regularly guzzled beer at with my homeboys. It was on some holiday weekend and it was raining, and the place was severely lacking in its usual numbers. I recall that I was in some pissy, whoa-is-me kind of mood that day, and was drowning my sorrows about some most-likely insignificant horseshit of the day. Then I heard Slim say into the mic, "This song is called 'Taken On the Chin'', so....I grabbed another beer and got my ass in front of the stage.
Again, there was hardly anyone there, but he still gave everything in his heart and soul to his performance and his songs, especially this one, and it really impressed me. And I learned a very valuable lesson. Whatever bullshit I was getting down and out about didn't fucking matter, because....THIS guy was playing his heart out, no matter how many people were there, and no matter who the fuck they were, because he was doing it for HIMSELF. I realized that I was going to have to do the same damn thing, in my own way and context.
And you know what? I believe that I always have, and can often recognize when others have too. I appreciate that sort of thing.
Anyway, here's the song.
Does it sound to you the same way it sounds to me?
Marty E.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
8 damn good albums that I bought in 2011
Let's face it...when it comes to fresh, new Rock N' Roll music, there's getting to be less and less to choose from in this sometimes dismal world. That's why I'm so ecstatic when I hear something that actually moves me, in one way or another. Most of these albums listed are from artists that I was already into....so, it seems that finding new artists with music to rock out, raise hell, and do "the deed" to is getting awfully rare. It's too bad.
With that said, I picked up some great albums this year. All hope is not lost!
[BTW-I BOUGHT all of these albums! Support Real Music, my friends!! Our lives depend on it!]
In no particular order:
1. The Twilight Singers-Dynamite Steps
Jesus, this album should have been called, Greg Dulli Does It Again. "Whenever you're here, you're alive," he sings in the first lines of the album opener, "Last Night In Town." Evidently, he believes in what he sings, because he delivered an album this year with more passion, angst, attitude, guts & heart-crushing melodies than I've heard from Dulli since 1993's (Afghan Whigs) Gentleman album....and that is certainly saying something. Check out "Get Lucky", "On The Corner", and "The Blackbird & The Fox" (w/ Ani Difranco).
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004LKXAC0/ref=dm_sp_alb
2. Kasabian-Velociraptor!
I don't understand why these UK geniuses haven't caught on more in the US. They one of the most vital bands in the world today. For my ears, that's because they are so extremely creative & daring with meshing genres (Rock, Brit Pop, Trip Hop, etc) while still managing to be catchier than gum on your boots...with some damn brilliant lyrics to illustrate it all! If you haven't given this album a listen, you are seriously missing out. Check out "Days Are Forgotten", "Goodbye Kiss", & "I Hear Voices."
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Velociraptor/dp/B005LZSJ66/ref=sr_shvl_album_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324507693&sr=301-1
3. Tom Waits-Bad As Me
I don't know how many fucking great albums this cat has made, but my mind is blown once again. What's great about this album is that Waits demonstrates all of the many reasons why you love Tom Waits in the first place - making it among his career-defining albums. What ties it all together is that all of the songs are coming from a dark, candle-lit cavern of his imagination, and they move you right in! Pretty much every song on here makes you say to yourself, "Holy FUCK this is FUCKING GREAT!" The first ones that struck me were the titled track, "Face To The Highway", "Chicago", and "Kiss Me"....but you can't go wrong at all here.
With that said, I picked up some great albums this year. All hope is not lost!
[BTW-I BOUGHT all of these albums! Support Real Music, my friends!! Our lives depend on it!]
In no particular order:
1. The Twilight Singers-Dynamite Steps
Jesus, this album should have been called, Greg Dulli Does It Again. "Whenever you're here, you're alive," he sings in the first lines of the album opener, "Last Night In Town." Evidently, he believes in what he sings, because he delivered an album this year with more passion, angst, attitude, guts & heart-crushing melodies than I've heard from Dulli since 1993's (Afghan Whigs) Gentleman album....and that is certainly saying something. Check out "Get Lucky", "On The Corner", and "The Blackbird & The Fox" (w/ Ani Difranco).
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004LKXAC0/ref=dm_sp_alb
2. Kasabian-Velociraptor!
I don't understand why these UK geniuses haven't caught on more in the US. They one of the most vital bands in the world today. For my ears, that's because they are so extremely creative & daring with meshing genres (Rock, Brit Pop, Trip Hop, etc) while still managing to be catchier than gum on your boots...with some damn brilliant lyrics to illustrate it all! If you haven't given this album a listen, you are seriously missing out. Check out "Days Are Forgotten", "Goodbye Kiss", & "I Hear Voices."
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Velociraptor/dp/B005LZSJ66/ref=sr_shvl_album_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324507693&sr=301-1
3. Tom Waits-Bad As Me
I don't know how many fucking great albums this cat has made, but my mind is blown once again. What's great about this album is that Waits demonstrates all of the many reasons why you love Tom Waits in the first place - making it among his career-defining albums. What ties it all together is that all of the songs are coming from a dark, candle-lit cavern of his imagination, and they move you right in! Pretty much every song on here makes you say to yourself, "Holy FUCK this is FUCKING GREAT!" The first ones that struck me were the titled track, "Face To The Highway", "Chicago", and "Kiss Me"....but you can't go wrong at all here.
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005SMTD58/ref=sr_1_album_2_rd?ie=UTF8&child=B005SMTERU&qid=1324509478&sr=1-2
4. Vain-Enough Rope
For my money, Vain were THE best band in the Late 80's/Early 90's Hair Metal genre. Yes, you read that right; I like them better than Skid Row, LA Guns, Poison, or what-have-you. That's just me; the hooks, sexually-charged-but-not-cheesy lyrics, screaming guitars, and devastatingly huge rhythm section speak to me. Unfortunately, they got screwed by a variety circumstances, and never achieved the fame of those bands. Despite that, they have continued to release albums periodically, and occasionally tour overseas. This album is just as powerful as their debut (No Respect). Check out "Cindy", "Worship You", and "Stray Kitten Burns."
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B005QICRFC/ref=sr_1_album_1_rd?ie=UTF8&child=B005QICS56&qid=1324510405&sr=1-1
5. Kopek-White Collar Lies
I was playing in Orlando, FL last spring with The Dirty Pearls, on my way to get lunch, when Kopek's "Cocaine Chest Pains" played on Sirius Satellite Radio. "Who the fuck IS THIS?!!!!," I said, very loudly! It turns out that they are from Ireland, and are an extremely talented trio. They're one of the only new bands that I've discovered in the past year that I really dig. I think that these guys have a real shot at making it. Check out "Cocaine Chest Pains", "The Easy Way (DB Cooper)", & "Love Is Dead."
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/White-Collar-Lies/dp/B003SUOZ0A/ref=sr_shvl_album_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1324510482&sr=301-1
6. Noel Gallagher's High Flying Birds
One good thing about the demise of Oasis (one of my favorite bands) is that we get to listen to two spin-off projects from it, one obviously being from their leader & main songsmith, Noel Gallagher. It's a no-brainer that this album is going to be damn good; he gives us what he always does - a set of kick-ass songs. What the fuck else do you want? Check out "Soldier Boys and Jesus Freaks", "AKA What a Life", & "The Death of You and Me".
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B006023AMM/ref=sr_1_album_1_rd?ie=UTF8&child=B006023BEY&qid=1324511997&sr=1-1
7. Beady Eye-Different Gear, Still Speeding
The other Oasis spin-off, of course, is Beady Eye, with Liam Gallagher and long time Oasis sidemen Gem Archer & Andy Bell. It's not quite as consistent as Noel's album, but there are some gems on here, and is about what you'd expect if you heard the last couple of Oasis albums (which were quite good). Check out "The Roller", "Beatles and Stones", and "The Beat Goes On."
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004PLSLGA/ref=sr_1_album_1_rd?ie=UTF8&child=B004PLQGFI&qid=1324512839&sr=1-1
8. PJ Harvey-Let England Shake
This is an extremely ambitious album, even for PJ Harvey. In fact, it's so ambitious, that I still don't fully "get" all of it. It's not like some of her previous albums, like Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea or To Bring You My Love, which grabbed me & pulled me in right away....and probably isn't supposed to be. This is an album that has to grow on you, I think. That said, the title track, "On Battleship Hill", & "In The Darkest Places" are my favorite songs on here, and are worth the price of admission alone.
Get it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B004M8KLYQ/ref=sr_1_album_1_rd?ie=UTF8&child=B004M8TKHK&qid=1324513689&sr=1-1
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
My first day of school, EVER, or how I learned to take the hard knocks & make sure the show goes on
I'll preface this entry by saying, what happened here is the epitome of my life, for better or worse!
The first day of school is scary for anyone, especially the first day of Kindergarten. I mean, that's where it ALL starts, you're not quite 6-years-old, and you have NO IDEA what to expect! I mean, all you know, in your little kid's mind, is that it's FUCKING SCARY!
Anyway, I went to school that early-September day, very timidly (especially for me), and I rolled with it. I did what the teacher said, made a couple of friends, took some bullshit from wise-asses, and basically minded my own business and had a good time. (I also wondered what the hell was up with the Principal, who was a nun who looked like Ernest Borgnine with a habit, but I digress).
At the very end of the day, around 2:00 or so, we had Gym Class in the field in the back of the school. We played some game called "Cowboys and Indians", which involved those who were designated as Cowboys to capture the Indians and make them one of their own....or the other way around. Anyway, it involved a lot of running around and catching people and that sort of thing.
I don't know how it happened, but I remember some girl running toward me, and I did the best I could to get the hell away from her, but....however it happened, we ran smack-dab into each other, and we knocked heads, and fell to the ground, and started crying like any kid would. At least that's how the story goes. I was helped up & my tears were wiped when the teacher and his assistant noticed that I had a bruise underneath my eye and on my cheek. The girl who plowed into me had a similar problem, although, if I remember correctly, not quite as COLORFUL as mine (of course). He said something like, "Oh....Great!" I'm sure that the prospect of sending not one, but TWO kids home from their first day of fucking KINDERGARTEN wasn't exactly how he wished to end his day, hahahaha.
So, anyway, I went home with what was turning into quite the deep black and blue shiner to contrast with my baby-blue right eye. My Mom, ever the good sport, didn't raise too much of a fuss (she'd had seven boys before me, you know), was sympathetic enough, but, clearly, I was ok. I sat down in front of the tv to watch Woody fucking Woodpecker and eat some Jello or some shit, when my Mom, with a very concerned look, poked her head in from the kitchen, saying something like, "You have to be the RING BEARER in your brother, DAVE's WEDDING with that shiner of yours!" The only thing I could muster up to say was, "UH OH!!!!"
But....what the hell were we to do? Postpone the wedding because the groom's peckerheaded baby brother, who's supposed to carry the damn wedding rings in a pillow down the aisle, got a black eye on his first day of school?!! Was some other kid going to be the ring bearer in the wedding? Hell no! My brother, Dave, and his bride-to-be, Heidi, had honored me by asking me to be in their wedding, and there was no way I wasn't going to do it!
So, the wedding day came. I was suited up in a little tuxedo that was a little bit big for me, and the bridesmaids were CRAZY about me, in my little tux with the darkest shiner in Minnesota History. I was, believe it or not, really quite shy, as I didn't become girl-crazy until the 2nd or 3rd Grade, hahahahaha. There was a flower girl in the wedding too, who was about my age, but I don't remember getting along with her as well. I do remember walking down the aisle with her, carrying a little pillow with the wedding rings, while she took flower petals out of a basket and tossed them on the ground. I remember thinking, "WHY is she DOING that?! She's making a MESS! Someone's gonna yell at her to PICK THAT UP!" No one did, hahahaha.
I learned a lot from that experience at that tender young age. From then on, it was always about getting up, dusting off, turning chicken shit into chicken salad, and making it happen. And we did! I think that it gave me my "SHOW MUST GO ON" attitude that I've always had about everything I do. I think it taught me not to be a wuss about things, to take shit as it comes and deal with the hard knocks, come what may. Why let something relatively minor tarnish the big picture? Screw that. Nothing is impossible, really. There are just different kinds of things that are POSSIBLE that will blow your mind! Furthermore, taking a hard knock or 12 along the way makes for a great story later on.
Post Script: About six months later, during Gym Class again, I got yet another black eye. This time, it was because the jerkoff next to me kept raising the plastic fucking hockey stick too high while we were playing floor hockey, and hit me in the eye. I kept telling him to stop raising his stick so high, but he wouldn't listen. He didn't even get into trouble! So, here we go again!
For some reason, I'd be willing to bet my life is a lot more fun than his is.......
The Old New Me Taken on the Chin by Slim Dunlap @ ARTISTdirect.com
The first day of school is scary for anyone, especially the first day of Kindergarten. I mean, that's where it ALL starts, you're not quite 6-years-old, and you have NO IDEA what to expect! I mean, all you know, in your little kid's mind, is that it's FUCKING SCARY!
Anyway, I went to school that early-September day, very timidly (especially for me), and I rolled with it. I did what the teacher said, made a couple of friends, took some bullshit from wise-asses, and basically minded my own business and had a good time. (I also wondered what the hell was up with the Principal, who was a nun who looked like Ernest Borgnine with a habit, but I digress).
At the very end of the day, around 2:00 or so, we had Gym Class in the field in the back of the school. We played some game called "Cowboys and Indians", which involved those who were designated as Cowboys to capture the Indians and make them one of their own....or the other way around. Anyway, it involved a lot of running around and catching people and that sort of thing.
I don't know how it happened, but I remember some girl running toward me, and I did the best I could to get the hell away from her, but....however it happened, we ran smack-dab into each other, and we knocked heads, and fell to the ground, and started crying like any kid would. At least that's how the story goes. I was helped up & my tears were wiped when the teacher and his assistant noticed that I had a bruise underneath my eye and on my cheek. The girl who plowed into me had a similar problem, although, if I remember correctly, not quite as COLORFUL as mine (of course). He said something like, "Oh....Great!" I'm sure that the prospect of sending not one, but TWO kids home from their first day of fucking KINDERGARTEN wasn't exactly how he wished to end his day, hahahaha.
So, anyway, I went home with what was turning into quite the deep black and blue shiner to contrast with my baby-blue right eye. My Mom, ever the good sport, didn't raise too much of a fuss (she'd had seven boys before me, you know), was sympathetic enough, but, clearly, I was ok. I sat down in front of the tv to watch Woody fucking Woodpecker and eat some Jello or some shit, when my Mom, with a very concerned look, poked her head in from the kitchen, saying something like, "You have to be the RING BEARER in your brother, DAVE's WEDDING with that shiner of yours!" The only thing I could muster up to say was, "UH OH!!!!"
But....what the hell were we to do? Postpone the wedding because the groom's peckerheaded baby brother, who's supposed to carry the damn wedding rings in a pillow down the aisle, got a black eye on his first day of school?!! Was some other kid going to be the ring bearer in the wedding? Hell no! My brother, Dave, and his bride-to-be, Heidi, had honored me by asking me to be in their wedding, and there was no way I wasn't going to do it!
So, the wedding day came. I was suited up in a little tuxedo that was a little bit big for me, and the bridesmaids were CRAZY about me, in my little tux with the darkest shiner in Minnesota History. I was, believe it or not, really quite shy, as I didn't become girl-crazy until the 2nd or 3rd Grade, hahahahaha. There was a flower girl in the wedding too, who was about my age, but I don't remember getting along with her as well. I do remember walking down the aisle with her, carrying a little pillow with the wedding rings, while she took flower petals out of a basket and tossed them on the ground. I remember thinking, "WHY is she DOING that?! She's making a MESS! Someone's gonna yell at her to PICK THAT UP!" No one did, hahahaha.
I learned a lot from that experience at that tender young age. From then on, it was always about getting up, dusting off, turning chicken shit into chicken salad, and making it happen. And we did! I think that it gave me my "SHOW MUST GO ON" attitude that I've always had about everything I do. I think it taught me not to be a wuss about things, to take shit as it comes and deal with the hard knocks, come what may. Why let something relatively minor tarnish the big picture? Screw that. Nothing is impossible, really. There are just different kinds of things that are POSSIBLE that will blow your mind! Furthermore, taking a hard knock or 12 along the way makes for a great story later on.
Post Script: About six months later, during Gym Class again, I got yet another black eye. This time, it was because the jerkoff next to me kept raising the plastic fucking hockey stick too high while we were playing floor hockey, and hit me in the eye. I kept telling him to stop raising his stick so high, but he wouldn't listen. He didn't even get into trouble! So, here we go again!
For some reason, I'd be willing to bet my life is a lot more fun than his is.......
The Old New Me Taken on the Chin by Slim Dunlap @ ARTISTdirect.com
Monday, July 25, 2011
The air I breathe and the wine in my glass, or 5 albums I couldn't imagine my life without (Part 1)
There are things that you see every day that could effect who you are, perhaps forever. A smile from a stranger, a new pair of boots, a new place to eat pasta....and a song! Everything in life, really, is interconnected, if you think about it, and that's what it's all about.
As usual, I'm obsessed with music, so....I'm starting an ongoing series on my blog about music that shaped who I am to the point where it goes without saying (but, if I didn't say it, nobody would know). I think that five at a time is enough to be substantive, but not so much as to bore people. Life's too short, from what I understand, so.....
1. Mother Love Bone (self-titled set, includes their Shine EP and only full-length album, Apple)
I discovered this band when I was still a pretty little kid, with designs on playing music, but still at the beginning of my formative stages, and very, VERY impressionable. I happened to find their Shine EP in the local music store, after school on a Friday night. I took a look at it, and there was definitely something different about it; the name, the image, the song titles ("Half Ass Monkey Boy", "Mindshaker Meltdown", "Chloe Dancer", etc.)....and, I only had 7 bucks anyway, so it was the only album I could afford at the time, so I picked it up. I've been hooked ever since.
What I liked about them from the get-go was the fact that they ROCKED, vaguely in the same way that Guns N' Roses did, with a tight, simple rhythm section, dynamic guitars (if not nearly as much so as Slash and Izzy's guitars), and a frontman with a HUGE, very unique personality. What was it that made Andrew Wood so unique? He had an explosive concoction of the cocksure egotist, the hilarious Rock N' Roll stand-up comedian, and the sensitive, nothing-too-sacred, bleeding-out balladeer. Who could ask for more? This is the guy who, on that first EP, sang, "I'm a Hollywood dreamboy, a pin-up in their eyes, I represent, Mama, All you despise" on one song, and, "This is my kinda' love, It's the kind that moves on, It's the kind that leaves me alone," on another. The dichotomy wasn't lost on me at all, and....despite the fact that I couldn't directly relate with his lyrics (being a little peckerhead at the time), I knew myself well enough to know that one day I certainly would. Another thing I've always loved about Wood was, simply, the charisma with which he would sing the simplest word, like, "Baby" (or "BAY-BAAAAY!!!!!") and sing it loaded with sex and longing and desperation and power and confidence. Yeah, for my ears, he was spot-on.
After I bought the Shine EP I waited for the much-anticipated debut, full-length album, Apple, to come out....and I waited, and waited, and waited....almost a year. This was before you could get your Rock N' Roll news at the click of a mouse. All I had was MTV and the Rock N' Roll ragazines, as I called them, which weren't forthcoming with any news, and I was getting really pissed off. Then, toward the end of that Summer, there was a review of Apple in Rip Magazine, saying that Andrew Wood had died that past March of a heroin overdose....the night before they were supposed to do a co-interview for the magazine with Kiss, or some kind of shit. The review also said that the album was fucking brilliant, essentially. My little heart was crushed that my Rock N' Roll hero was gone, but never more-so than when I finally picked up the album, and blasted it on my Mom's stereo in the living room without asking.
The album as a whole, probably didn't quite measure up to Gn'R's Appetite for Destruction (which is the "gold standard", probably, to this day) in terms of consistency (some of the harder-edged material could have been better), but....the gems on Apple (including all of the ballads, no less than FIVE) were nothing short of magical, and shimmered like candles in some underground cave. The songs, for the most part, were fucking real, and made me feel what I thought Wood must have felt like singing them. Whether he was singing of the love of the stage ("This is Shangrila" and "Stardog Champion") or the love of his girl ("Stargazer" & "Bone China"), I believed every word of what he sang, and the music only accentuated that.
I spent a lot of time singing along, and yes, drumming along, and this album has had a huge effect on me. If you give it a listen, perhaps it will effect you similarly. I will say this: despite the enormous success Stone Gossard and Jeff Ament had with Pearl Jam after Love Bone's demise....for my ears, this music stands the test of time in a much more poignant way.
2. Hanoi Rocks-Two Steps From the Move
Again, growing up, after listening to lots of Prince, Ozzy, Motley Crue, Ratt, Iron Maiden, etc, Guns N' Roses really rocked my little world. And it was Guns N' Roses who made me interested in a Finnish Glam Rock (not to be confused with "Hair Metal) band called Hanoi Rocks, who had broken up a couple of years before (we all know the story....if not, look it up).
Guns actually released all 5 of the Hanoi albums that hadn't been officially been released in the US, on their own Uzi Suicide label, via Geffen. So, of course, I went to check out all these albums. Unfortunately, I could afford only one, and the one that they HAD released over here was the one that caught my eye for some reason, so I grabbed that one, which happened to be Two Steps From the Move.
There are some great sleazy, Rock N' Roll songs on this album. "Underwater World" is a dark, down and dirty song that seems to be about the New York City subways....the New York Dolls or Alice Cooper would have been proud to have made such a song. "High School" is a glam-punk rave-up, with VERY, very well worked out, dueling guitar parts, despite its rather hokey lyrics, much like "Futurama" (although I think the lyrics are far better on that one). "Don't You Ever Leave Me" is a pure glam ballad, and actually, an updated version of a song from the band's first album, complete with vocal harmonies in the chorus that still remind me of the fucking Beach Boys! "I Can't Get It" is a frustrated, whoa-is-me song, that any of us can relate to sometimes ("I sit and count them, shot-by-shot-the little things that I never got!"). And of course, the singles, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" and their cover of CCR's "Up Around the Bend" make me smile like that cat that at the canary at any party, and they often do! A lot of these songs were co-written by Ian Hunter of Mott the Hoople, presumably to give them an Arena-Rock facelift for America, and I think it worked!
Even at the time, I could understand why Gn'R had spoken so highly of Hanoi, and why they did them the service of getting their older albums. Listening via headphones, I could hear a similar Stones-on-steroids, two-guitar interplay between Andy McCoy and Nasty Suicide that Slash and Izzy had, with each guitar panned to a speaker, which I still love. Also, it wasn't lost on my that the term, "Welcome to the Jungle", is in the chorus of "Underwater World" (and I later heard the term "Rocket Queen" in the 3rd verse of the Hanoi song "Don't Follow Me", from their Oriental Beat album)....which has to be more than a mere coincidence. Their look, too, at least in the early days, certainly was reminiscent of Hanoi, w/ Axl Rose and Izzy Stadlin' in particular. But, of course, everybody lifts ideas from somewhere, whether consciously or not....at least Gn'R returned the favor, so to speak.
In any case, I sort-of consider this album to be at least somewhat of a prototype of what was to come via Gn'R's debut album, but these are two different bands, though and through. This album has more of a naivete and a sense of humor, to contrast with the all-out dark intensity that Gn'R gave us a few years later. It fits right in, though, on the same shelf as Aerosmith, Alice Cooper, the New York Dolls, and Guns N' Roses. If you're a fan of any of that music and haven't heard this, you'd be doing yourself a service by picking this up, as well as the rest of their catalog.
Sisters of Mercy-Vision Thing
This album, from the 3rd (or 4th, depending upon your perspective) incarnation of English "Goth Gods" the Sisters of Mercy, came out right on the advent of "Industrial Music", when bands like Ministry and Nine Inch Nails were seriously gaining world notoriety. And it fit right into the middle of that. The guitar riffs were very multi-layered, but extremely simple, and the music was as dark as you'd expect from the Sisters, but not as melodically sophisticated as anything they did before. The music is at the Sisters' most basic and primal, yet most intensely danceable (due in no small part to their ever-present drum machine-Doktor Avalanche) and, for lack of a better term, COOL!
That being said, this was by-far Andrew Eldritch's most ambitious, focused, and intelligently-written album, lyrically. The themes touching on greed/corruption (the title track, "More", and "Dr. Jeep") to the inevitably sadomasochistic and who's-screwing-whom nature of relationships ("Ribbons", "I Was Wrong" & "When You Don't See Me") to life's admitted uncertainties ("Something Fast") to putting the pedal to the floor in an El Dorado ("Detonation Blvd"). And, through it all, Eldritch sounds as arrogant as ever (which I like), but also, confident, and as if he might actually be having FUN (which I like even better). Eldritch is singing, whispering, and screaming on the entire album like Leonard Cohen on Amphetamines and appears to be enjoying every minute of it.
When I was a little kid, I got WAY into this album, because, while it fit in with what was becoming popular at the time (and I was listening to all of that before anyone else was anyway), THIS stuff was, perhaps, a little bit too far out-there for most of America to really understand, so....that probably got me into it THAT much more....and you might still catch me on the subway train singing along with my Ipod, "It's a small world and it smells funny, I'd buy another if it wasn't for the money, take back what I paid, FOR ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKER IN A MOTORCADE!!!"
4. The Jesus Lizard-Liar
The Jesus Lizard was probably my favorite band in the 90's. The music itself is difficult to describe; it isn't metal, but it's very intense and fucking heavy (but not particularly distorted). It's not Punk, but it's very-much against-the-grain. It's not Rock, but it's very primal, and, for my money, VERY Rock N' Roll.
There aren't a lot of vocal melodies, because the vocals aren't sung (by fellow Budweiser enthusiast David Yow) as much as they're...um....expressed....exclaimed....via screams, moans, grunts, and chants, I guess. That isn't to say they aren't (eventually) catchy, and actually, quite intelligent and informed....even though, most of the time, I never knew (or cared. particularly) what the fuck they were about. The guitar playing, courtesy of Duane Denison, is a mixture of Surf Rock, Spaghetti Western, and early Punk Rock, but delivered very cleanly, and with a precision that....well, wouldn't make a lot of sense to you the way I'm describing it (or does it?). The rhythm section is among my favorite of all time, via David Wm. Sims (bass) and Mac McNeilly (drums & one of my favorites, see one of my previous blogs), delivering and extremely intense, pile-driving foundation, that I can only compare to the sound of dropping concrete blocks on your head while building a house over it. And Steve Albini's production of this album ties it altogether and makes perfect sense out of it, for my ears anyway.
I guess it made sense to other people too. Nirvana (who did a split 7" single with them when this came out) used Steve Albini to produce their In Utero album, as Bush later did with their Razorblade Suitcase album. Both of them had very similar sounds to this very Jesus Lizard album, but obviously, the music was way different. But in many ways, these guys exemplified what was so cool about the 90's, and that was, that you could play music like this and still get a major record deal (which they did a few years later, starting with their Shot album). How fucking cool is that?
5. Afghan Whigs-Gentleman
This album could have been called "Relationship Hell"....but, never did perpetual heartbreak & emotional blackmail sound so goddamn good.
"What should I tell her? She's going to ask...." The opening lyrics of this album say it all, really. There's inner and outer conflict, deception vs. truth, betrayal vs. loyalty, and above all, uncertainty....what a hell of an introduction!
The entire album rolls that way, as a sort of concept album based on the anatomy of a bad break-up, with a whole lot of arrogance and self-loathing thrown in, smothered with drugs and alcohol, as well as a whole lot of sex (let's hope that the sex is good, but I think that's implied).
The title track states it all explicitly....consider for yourself, the second verse: "We dragged it out so long, this time, Started to make each other sick, But now I've got time for you....and me too!" How about the third verse?: "Let me in, I'm cold, all messed up but nowhere to go....Unlock the cabinet, I'll take whatever you got!" It's misery that's pathetic but not so much as to think it's the end of the world, and....give me a drink! I understand that!
"Be Sweet" has one of the most titillating lyrics I've ever heard: "I got a dick for a brain, And my brain is gonna sell my ass to you, Now I'm ok, but in time I find I'm stuck, 'Cause she wants love, And I still want to fuck..." Yup, it's anguished and it's terrible, and profoundly full of itself, all wrapped in a killer rhythmic cadence, dripping from a tearful guitar line (and Rick McCollum's guitar lead after the first verse is fucking irresistible).
The album is chock-full of gems along the same lines, from the first single, "Debonair" ("I'm not the man my actions would suggest....tonight I go to Hell for what I've done to you") to "What Jail is Like" ("If what you're shoveling is company, Then I'd rather be alone, Resentment always goes much further than it was supposed to go") to "My Curse"-sung by Marcy Mays from Scrawl ("Hurt me, Baby, I flinch so when you do, your kisses scourge me..."). This is all saturated with swirling, anguished guitars, and punctuated with impeccably slamming rhythms (drummer Steven Earle plays incredibly on the album, and I was disappointed when he left after the tour for this album).
Hell, if Ronnie Van Zandt christened himself a "Simple Man", Greg Dulli could have written an answer called, "Complicated Man", but instead, he gave us this entire album, which, since its release, I've basically lived, front-to-back, at least three times!
As usual, I'm obsessed with music, so....I'm starting an ongoing series on my blog about music that shaped who I am to the point where it goes without saying (but, if I didn't say it, nobody would know). I think that five at a time is enough to be substantive, but not so much as to bore people. Life's too short, from what I understand, so.....
1. Mother Love Bone (self-titled set, includes their Shine EP and only full-length album, Apple)
I discovered this band when I was still a pretty little kid, with designs on playing music, but still at the beginning of my formative stages, and very, VERY impressionable. I happened to find their Shine EP in the local music store, after school on a Friday night. I took a look at it, and there was definitely something different about it; the name, the image, the song titles ("Half Ass Monkey Boy", "Mindshaker Meltdown", "Chloe Dancer", etc.)....and, I only had 7 bucks anyway, so it was the only album I could afford at the time, so I picked it up. I've been hooked ever since.
What I liked about them from the get-go was the fact that they ROCKED, vaguely in the same way that Guns N' Roses did, with a tight, simple rhythm section, dynamic guitars (if not nearly as much so as Slash and Izzy's guitars), and a frontman with a HUGE, very unique personality. What was it that made Andrew Wood so unique? He had an explosive concoction of the cocksure egotist, the hilarious Rock N' Roll stand-up comedian, and the sensitive, nothing-too-sacred, bleeding-out balladeer. Who could ask for more? This is the guy who, on that first EP, sang, "I'm a Hollywood dreamboy, a pin-up in their eyes, I represent, Mama, All you despise" on one song, and, "This is my kinda' love, It's the kind that moves on, It's the kind that leaves me alone," on another. The dichotomy wasn't lost on me at all, and....despite the fact that I couldn't directly relate with his lyrics (being a little peckerhead at the time), I knew myself well enough to know that one day I certainly would. Another thing I've always loved about Wood was, simply, the charisma with which he would sing the simplest word, like, "Baby" (or "BAY-BAAAAY!!!!!") and sing it loaded with sex and longing and desperation and power and confidence. Yeah, for my ears, he was spot-on.
After I bought the Shine EP I waited for the much-anticipated debut, full-length album, Apple, to come out....and I waited, and waited, and waited....almost a year. This was before you could get your Rock N' Roll news at the click of a mouse. All I had was MTV and the Rock N' Roll ragazines, as I called them, which weren't forthcoming with any news, and I was getting really pissed off. Then, toward the end of that Summer, there was a review of Apple in Rip Magazine, saying that Andrew Wood had died that past March of a heroin overdose....the night before they were supposed to do a co-interview for the magazine with Kiss, or some kind of shit. The review also said that the album was fucking brilliant, essentially. My little heart was crushed that my Rock N' Roll hero was gone, but never more-so than when I finally picked up the album, and blasted it on my Mom's stereo in the living room without asking.
The album as a whole, probably didn't quite measure up to Gn'R's Appetite for Destruction (which is the "gold standard", probably, to this day) in terms of consistency (some of the harder-edged material could have been better), but....the gems on Apple (including all of the ballads, no less than FIVE) were nothing short of magical, and shimmered like candles in some underground cave. The songs, for the most part, were fucking real, and made me feel what I thought Wood must have felt like singing them. Whether he was singing of the love of the stage ("This is Shangrila" and "Stardog Champion") or the love of his girl ("Stargazer" & "Bone China"), I believed every word of what he sang, and the music only accentuated that.
I spent a lot of time singing along, and yes, drumming along, and this album has had a huge effect on me. If you give it a listen, perhaps it will effect you similarly. I will say this: despite the enormous success Stone Gossard and Jeff Ament had with Pearl Jam after Love Bone's demise....for my ears, this music stands the test of time in a much more poignant way.
2. Hanoi Rocks-Two Steps From the Move
Again, growing up, after listening to lots of Prince, Ozzy, Motley Crue, Ratt, Iron Maiden, etc, Guns N' Roses really rocked my little world. And it was Guns N' Roses who made me interested in a Finnish Glam Rock (not to be confused with "Hair Metal) band called Hanoi Rocks, who had broken up a couple of years before (we all know the story....if not, look it up).
Guns actually released all 5 of the Hanoi albums that hadn't been officially been released in the US, on their own Uzi Suicide label, via Geffen. So, of course, I went to check out all these albums. Unfortunately, I could afford only one, and the one that they HAD released over here was the one that caught my eye for some reason, so I grabbed that one, which happened to be Two Steps From the Move.
There are some great sleazy, Rock N' Roll songs on this album. "Underwater World" is a dark, down and dirty song that seems to be about the New York City subways....the New York Dolls or Alice Cooper would have been proud to have made such a song. "High School" is a glam-punk rave-up, with VERY, very well worked out, dueling guitar parts, despite its rather hokey lyrics, much like "Futurama" (although I think the lyrics are far better on that one). "Don't You Ever Leave Me" is a pure glam ballad, and actually, an updated version of a song from the band's first album, complete with vocal harmonies in the chorus that still remind me of the fucking Beach Boys! "I Can't Get It" is a frustrated, whoa-is-me song, that any of us can relate to sometimes ("I sit and count them, shot-by-shot-the little things that I never got!"). And of course, the singles, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" and their cover of CCR's "Up Around the Bend" make me smile like that cat that at the canary at any party, and they often do! A lot of these songs were co-written by Ian Hunter of Mott the Hoople, presumably to give them an Arena-Rock facelift for America, and I think it worked!
Even at the time, I could understand why Gn'R had spoken so highly of Hanoi, and why they did them the service of getting their older albums. Listening via headphones, I could hear a similar Stones-on-steroids, two-guitar interplay between Andy McCoy and Nasty Suicide that Slash and Izzy had, with each guitar panned to a speaker, which I still love. Also, it wasn't lost on my that the term, "Welcome to the Jungle", is in the chorus of "Underwater World" (and I later heard the term "Rocket Queen" in the 3rd verse of the Hanoi song "Don't Follow Me", from their Oriental Beat album)....which has to be more than a mere coincidence. Their look, too, at least in the early days, certainly was reminiscent of Hanoi, w/ Axl Rose and Izzy Stadlin' in particular. But, of course, everybody lifts ideas from somewhere, whether consciously or not....at least Gn'R returned the favor, so to speak.
In any case, I sort-of consider this album to be at least somewhat of a prototype of what was to come via Gn'R's debut album, but these are two different bands, though and through. This album has more of a naivete and a sense of humor, to contrast with the all-out dark intensity that Gn'R gave us a few years later. It fits right in, though, on the same shelf as Aerosmith, Alice Cooper, the New York Dolls, and Guns N' Roses. If you're a fan of any of that music and haven't heard this, you'd be doing yourself a service by picking this up, as well as the rest of their catalog.
Sisters of Mercy-Vision Thing
This album, from the 3rd (or 4th, depending upon your perspective) incarnation of English "Goth Gods" the Sisters of Mercy, came out right on the advent of "Industrial Music", when bands like Ministry and Nine Inch Nails were seriously gaining world notoriety. And it fit right into the middle of that. The guitar riffs were very multi-layered, but extremely simple, and the music was as dark as you'd expect from the Sisters, but not as melodically sophisticated as anything they did before. The music is at the Sisters' most basic and primal, yet most intensely danceable (due in no small part to their ever-present drum machine-Doktor Avalanche) and, for lack of a better term, COOL!
That being said, this was by-far Andrew Eldritch's most ambitious, focused, and intelligently-written album, lyrically. The themes touching on greed/corruption (the title track, "More", and "Dr. Jeep") to the inevitably sadomasochistic and who's-screwing-whom nature of relationships ("Ribbons", "I Was Wrong" & "When You Don't See Me") to life's admitted uncertainties ("Something Fast") to putting the pedal to the floor in an El Dorado ("Detonation Blvd"). And, through it all, Eldritch sounds as arrogant as ever (which I like), but also, confident, and as if he might actually be having FUN (which I like even better). Eldritch is singing, whispering, and screaming on the entire album like Leonard Cohen on Amphetamines and appears to be enjoying every minute of it.
When I was a little kid, I got WAY into this album, because, while it fit in with what was becoming popular at the time (and I was listening to all of that before anyone else was anyway), THIS stuff was, perhaps, a little bit too far out-there for most of America to really understand, so....that probably got me into it THAT much more....and you might still catch me on the subway train singing along with my Ipod, "It's a small world and it smells funny, I'd buy another if it wasn't for the money, take back what I paid, FOR ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKER IN A MOTORCADE!!!"
4. The Jesus Lizard-Liar
The Jesus Lizard was probably my favorite band in the 90's. The music itself is difficult to describe; it isn't metal, but it's very intense and fucking heavy (but not particularly distorted). It's not Punk, but it's very-much against-the-grain. It's not Rock, but it's very primal, and, for my money, VERY Rock N' Roll.
There aren't a lot of vocal melodies, because the vocals aren't sung (by fellow Budweiser enthusiast David Yow) as much as they're...um....expressed....exclaimed....via screams, moans, grunts, and chants, I guess. That isn't to say they aren't (eventually) catchy, and actually, quite intelligent and informed....even though, most of the time, I never knew (or cared. particularly) what the fuck they were about. The guitar playing, courtesy of Duane Denison, is a mixture of Surf Rock, Spaghetti Western, and early Punk Rock, but delivered very cleanly, and with a precision that....well, wouldn't make a lot of sense to you the way I'm describing it (or does it?). The rhythm section is among my favorite of all time, via David Wm. Sims (bass) and Mac McNeilly (drums & one of my favorites, see one of my previous blogs), delivering and extremely intense, pile-driving foundation, that I can only compare to the sound of dropping concrete blocks on your head while building a house over it. And Steve Albini's production of this album ties it altogether and makes perfect sense out of it, for my ears anyway.
I guess it made sense to other people too. Nirvana (who did a split 7" single with them when this came out) used Steve Albini to produce their In Utero album, as Bush later did with their Razorblade Suitcase album. Both of them had very similar sounds to this very Jesus Lizard album, but obviously, the music was way different. But in many ways, these guys exemplified what was so cool about the 90's, and that was, that you could play music like this and still get a major record deal (which they did a few years later, starting with their Shot album). How fucking cool is that?
5. Afghan Whigs-Gentleman
This album could have been called "Relationship Hell"....but, never did perpetual heartbreak & emotional blackmail sound so goddamn good.
"What should I tell her? She's going to ask...." The opening lyrics of this album say it all, really. There's inner and outer conflict, deception vs. truth, betrayal vs. loyalty, and above all, uncertainty....what a hell of an introduction!
The entire album rolls that way, as a sort of concept album based on the anatomy of a bad break-up, with a whole lot of arrogance and self-loathing thrown in, smothered with drugs and alcohol, as well as a whole lot of sex (let's hope that the sex is good, but I think that's implied).
The title track states it all explicitly....consider for yourself, the second verse: "We dragged it out so long, this time, Started to make each other sick, But now I've got time for you....and me too!" How about the third verse?: "Let me in, I'm cold, all messed up but nowhere to go....Unlock the cabinet, I'll take whatever you got!" It's misery that's pathetic but not so much as to think it's the end of the world, and....give me a drink! I understand that!
"Be Sweet" has one of the most titillating lyrics I've ever heard: "I got a dick for a brain, And my brain is gonna sell my ass to you, Now I'm ok, but in time I find I'm stuck, 'Cause she wants love, And I still want to fuck..." Yup, it's anguished and it's terrible, and profoundly full of itself, all wrapped in a killer rhythmic cadence, dripping from a tearful guitar line (and Rick McCollum's guitar lead after the first verse is fucking irresistible).
The album is chock-full of gems along the same lines, from the first single, "Debonair" ("I'm not the man my actions would suggest....tonight I go to Hell for what I've done to you") to "What Jail is Like" ("If what you're shoveling is company, Then I'd rather be alone, Resentment always goes much further than it was supposed to go") to "My Curse"-sung by Marcy Mays from Scrawl ("Hurt me, Baby, I flinch so when you do, your kisses scourge me..."). This is all saturated with swirling, anguished guitars, and punctuated with impeccably slamming rhythms (drummer Steven Earle plays incredibly on the album, and I was disappointed when he left after the tour for this album).
Hell, if Ronnie Van Zandt christened himself a "Simple Man", Greg Dulli could have written an answer called, "Complicated Man", but instead, he gave us this entire album, which, since its release, I've basically lived, front-to-back, at least three times!
Thursday, February 10, 2011
That little itch in the deep dark night...or....You're never alone....no, really....never!
This is my first blog entry in months and months....so I'm going to make it a good and titillating one, that you won't soon forget.
About six months after I moved to NYC, I started living in what was perhaps the shittiest apartment building in Manhattan, near the southern border of the neighborhood known as Hell's Kitchen....in the West 30's. The place was shady to say the least, but my room was relatively cheap, I paid in cash, and the landlord usually left me alone, which is usually just fine with me. But this landlord was the kind of guy who, on one hand, would lock someone out of his apartment if he didn't pay his rent on time....and on the other, would have letters from lawyers (and even The People's Court, once) piling up by the mail boxes because of unreturned security deposits (and, I'm sure that it's no coincidence that I never got mine back). His name was Kamal, but he asked to be called "John." File that in the back of your mind if you're looking at apartments/rooms in that neighborhood.
So, to begin with, these were anything but deluxe accommodations. There was no living room (I used to point at the tall buildings and streets outside when friends came over, and exclaim, "NEW YORK CITY is my fucking LIVING room, ok?!!" Hahahahaha), and nothing but the most basic of amenities (the kitchen and bathroom were at least sufficient). The walls between the bedrooms (and between each apartment) were paper thin at best, and shoddily put together. Hell, I believe there was even open space at the top of my bedroom wall...which I think I covered up with something. We all need a LITTLE bit of privacy, by God!
Well, it turns out that I didn't have as much of that as I had hoped.
One night I decided to stay in and get some decent rest and a little peace of mind. I was lying in my bed listening to the Verve, and just starting to go to sleep. Do you know the feeling when you're trying to sleep, and for some reason, you get taunted by these pesky, unexplainable, spontaneous itches? Well, that's what I thought was happening. But then...something....fucking HURT all of the sudden. I shot out of my bed, and there, on my leg, was this little reddish-black bug, feasting on me. I pulled the blankets back and there were a couple more of them. I grabbed a tissue and....well, crushed them. They became red splotches against the white tissue. BLOOD! I pulled my mattress back, and there was a mini-New York City of BEDBUGS going on...in MY BED!!!! The HORROR!!!!
I don't recall having felt so terrified or helpless at any point in my life, before or since. But I had to do something....these were the days when I had work in the morning. So, I think I found some bleach or some similar cleaning product and a bunch of rags, and basically caused a mini-chemical tsunami on the city beneath my mattress and temporarily remedied the situation enough to get a somewhat decent night's sleep.
I felt trapped because I didn't have the wherewithal at the time to just pick up and split; Craig's list wasn't really happening yet, so it was WAY harder to find a roof then. Complaints to my landlord fell on deaf ears, and from what I heard, the entire building was infested. FUCK!.
The best solution I could come up with was to clean everything up as best I could, get a new mattress....then my roommate and I would get Raid "bug bombs", which were essentially, bug sprays that you'd open up, then leave the apartment for a few hours while they emptied out and did their work. It didn't really harm the bugs, but at least it scared them into neighboring apartments, and kept them out of ours, for the most part....until we finally just couldn't take it anymore, and split.
Whenever I walk by there, I usually utter some kind of expletive. The memories are deeply ingrained I guess.
There was one funny thing that happened because of our bedbug problem. I very briefly dated a girl who lived a very privileged life in her dad's HUGE apartment in a Park Avenue high rise....but he was never home. Anyway, once, she decided so "slum it" and spend a night at my place. A couple of days later, she called me up, said something about having some kind of bug bites, and asked if this might have come from my apartment.
In my best Jackie Chiles from Seinfeld voice, I quickly blurted, "I-dunno-anything-about-it!" and hung up the phone. I haven't heard from her since. Sorry about that.
Anyway....needless to say, I don't miss those days one bit!
Thanks for reading! I know it wasn't easy. Hell, I'm itching all over now just from writing it....ahahaha....I think!
Marty E.
About six months after I moved to NYC, I started living in what was perhaps the shittiest apartment building in Manhattan, near the southern border of the neighborhood known as Hell's Kitchen....in the West 30's. The place was shady to say the least, but my room was relatively cheap, I paid in cash, and the landlord usually left me alone, which is usually just fine with me. But this landlord was the kind of guy who, on one hand, would lock someone out of his apartment if he didn't pay his rent on time....and on the other, would have letters from lawyers (and even The People's Court, once) piling up by the mail boxes because of unreturned security deposits (and, I'm sure that it's no coincidence that I never got mine back). His name was Kamal, but he asked to be called "John." File that in the back of your mind if you're looking at apartments/rooms in that neighborhood.
So, to begin with, these were anything but deluxe accommodations. There was no living room (I used to point at the tall buildings and streets outside when friends came over, and exclaim, "NEW YORK CITY is my fucking LIVING room, ok?!!" Hahahahaha), and nothing but the most basic of amenities (the kitchen and bathroom were at least sufficient). The walls between the bedrooms (and between each apartment) were paper thin at best, and shoddily put together. Hell, I believe there was even open space at the top of my bedroom wall...which I think I covered up with something. We all need a LITTLE bit of privacy, by God!
Well, it turns out that I didn't have as much of that as I had hoped.
One night I decided to stay in and get some decent rest and a little peace of mind. I was lying in my bed listening to the Verve, and just starting to go to sleep. Do you know the feeling when you're trying to sleep, and for some reason, you get taunted by these pesky, unexplainable, spontaneous itches? Well, that's what I thought was happening. But then...something....fucking HURT all of the sudden. I shot out of my bed, and there, on my leg, was this little reddish-black bug, feasting on me. I pulled the blankets back and there were a couple more of them. I grabbed a tissue and....well, crushed them. They became red splotches against the white tissue. BLOOD! I pulled my mattress back, and there was a mini-New York City of BEDBUGS going on...in MY BED!!!! The HORROR!!!!
I don't recall having felt so terrified or helpless at any point in my life, before or since. But I had to do something....these were the days when I had work in the morning. So, I think I found some bleach or some similar cleaning product and a bunch of rags, and basically caused a mini-chemical tsunami on the city beneath my mattress and temporarily remedied the situation enough to get a somewhat decent night's sleep.
I felt trapped because I didn't have the wherewithal at the time to just pick up and split; Craig's list wasn't really happening yet, so it was WAY harder to find a roof then. Complaints to my landlord fell on deaf ears, and from what I heard, the entire building was infested. FUCK!.
The best solution I could come up with was to clean everything up as best I could, get a new mattress....then my roommate and I would get Raid "bug bombs", which were essentially, bug sprays that you'd open up, then leave the apartment for a few hours while they emptied out and did their work. It didn't really harm the bugs, but at least it scared them into neighboring apartments, and kept them out of ours, for the most part....until we finally just couldn't take it anymore, and split.
Whenever I walk by there, I usually utter some kind of expletive. The memories are deeply ingrained I guess.
There was one funny thing that happened because of our bedbug problem. I very briefly dated a girl who lived a very privileged life in her dad's HUGE apartment in a Park Avenue high rise....but he was never home. Anyway, once, she decided so "slum it" and spend a night at my place. A couple of days later, she called me up, said something about having some kind of bug bites, and asked if this might have come from my apartment.
In my best Jackie Chiles from Seinfeld voice, I quickly blurted, "I-dunno-anything-about-it!" and hung up the phone. I haven't heard from her since. Sorry about that.
Anyway....needless to say, I don't miss those days one bit!
Thanks for reading! I know it wasn't easy. Hell, I'm itching all over now just from writing it....ahahaha....I think!
Marty E.
Friday, September 10, 2010
The trials and tribulations of a musician with standards or shitty auditions I have known
For the umpteen-millionth time, I've been in New York City for ten years. I moved here with wide eyes, hopes and dreams the size of Madison Square Garden, and little more than the remotest clue on how to really make shit happen for myself.
You know, a lot of kids move here from other parts of the country thinking that it's some hotbed of talent and ambition.....they think that the people who inhabit places like (sadly, the now-closed) CBGB's (for example) are all cooler than hell & going somewhere.
What you quickly realize, once you get here, and the cold reality nips at your earlobes, is that there's just MORE of EVERYTHING. Sure, there are a lot more talented, creative, cool people who know where they're going. But, by the same token, there are also many, MANY more dipshits and dildorods who can't play (or sing or act or write or whathaveyou) their way out of a cardboard box....and most of them think that they're just fucking GREAT!
That all being said, one has to start somewhere, so I immediately began getting my ass out there and jamming with anyone who seemed like they might be cool, fun, & interesting, and/or had something promising happening for them. I would take the Subway train all over the place, full of hope that THIS was going to be the one that was going to result in something I'd always dreamed of. What I found, more often than not, wasn't even in the same solar system.
I had my first "audition" (remember, when these so-called "auditions" happen, you're often "auditioning" them as much as they are you) about a week after I arrived here. Hell, I hadn't even found a place to live yet (I was still crashing on a floor in Bay Ridge...thanks yet again, Alfredo!). It was in some sweat box on Dekalb Ave in Brooklyn. These guys (I won't mention what the band's name was, as I don't want to slander anyone....but the name sucked) described themselves as an old-school, melodic Rock N' Roll band, ala-Cheap Trick (one of my favorite bands), so....I went for it.
They were the kind of band that....well, they'd rehearse often, but it was always for ONE show at Arlene's Grocery, maybe ONCE a year. Great. And....they kept talking about how they knew some chick who worked at Atlantic Records who will "probably" show up. Riiiiight.
Their music was ok....not great, but good enough for at the time. I had a good vibe with the guitar player, which showed some promise. In any case, they never called me back after that.
Years later, I became pretty good friends with that guitar player. He told me they never called me back because the singer didn't think I was a good enough drummer. Granted, my chops were rusty, and my playing was probably a bit loose. You see, I'd just MOVED to NEW YORK CITY from the MIDWEST, which....takes some TIME and ENERGY, ahahahahahaha!!!! But this same guitar player came to see a band I used to play in at the Pussycat Lounge (is that place still open?) WAY downtown. After he saw that show, he called the said singer who dismissed my drumming skills, and left him a voicemail with three words: "YOU FUCKED UP!!!!" Hahahahahaha!!! (Thanks Kelly!).
This wouldn't have been the band for me anyway, really. They were the kind of guys who, instead of going OUT there and playing gigs, and building a following and socializing and being cool & making it happen....they would constantly prepare for ONE fucking show that was always three months away, a 9PM slot at Arlene's on a Friday with a bunch of other bands they didn't know.....and yeah, this chick from Atlantic might go. I always came from the school of thought that one learns the ropes of DOING something by DOING it! You aren't going to learn how to satisfy a woman by doing the "five-knuckle shuffle" to porn every night....you know what I mean? Relatively speaking, in terms of playing Rock N' Roll, that's what this band was doing, and they never got anywhere close to where I was to go.....and I'm not all the way there YET, either! Hahahahahaha. But the truth is, I think maybe a couple of these guys were scared. Enough said.
Another time, I set up an audition for some "chick band" (which I didn't mind....I'm not sexist, for God's sake! If PJ Harvey had called me up, I'd have died of a heart attack....by the way....Polly Jean....call me! Hahahahaha). They seemed to be smart enough, and....well, I think they had a residency at some place called the Orange Bear. This didn't inspire confidence, exactly, but I figured, what the hell? It would be free rehearsal for two hours for me (every time you play, it makes you better the NEXT time, you know?), and maybe I'd make some friends.
So....I walked to the rehearsal studio, and was about to open the door....but I heard them playing music already. They were playing Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide".....I felt my heart race....I mean, I like Fleetwood Mac, don't get me wrong but....I'm not fucking PLAYING it, or anything LIKE it. So, I made what may have amounted to a chickenshit move: I BOLTED. To my credit, I went straight to Ultra Sound & gave them 10 bucks to let me drum in one of their open rooms for an hour (I did this a LOT and it saved my ASS when I didn't have anything going on. A drummer needs to drum, not only to keep his chops in shape, but in order to FEEL good).
A similar occurrence happened more recently....maybe five years ago, after I left one of my old bands, and was looking to start fresh. I found some band who described themselves as being Motley Crue meets Bowie or some shit....oh, and they were being looked at by Universal (I've heard THAT more times than I care to divulge). But, I figured, what the fuck, it's right down the street....let's fucking JAM!
Well, I showed up....opened up the door....and this one guy, the guitar player, looked pretty cool. Had the long hair, black jeans, and Black Crowes-esque shirt. Cool. But this....SINGER guy...was quite a portly mammal....and he had an afro that looked like STEEL WOOL on the top of his head....and he was wearing ZUBAZ!!!! Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!!! I'm getting onstage with THIS guy? And Uni are interested? The pungent smell of BULLSHIT filled the room.
I said something like, "Oh SHIT Man....I forgot, I gotta take a piss....I'll be RIGHT back....ok?!!" I stifled a laugh, and wondered if they wondered why I would need to take my drumsticks with me to the bathroom. And I did what any self-respecting, red-blooded American Rock N' Roller would do....I HAULED ASS! Once downstairs, I called my girlfriend (at the time), and said, "Hey Baby.....the bad news is, there's no way in HELL I'm going to play with these dudes, so I split....the good news is, I'm coming home, and am wondering if you're hungry!" Hahahahahahahaaha....
I know what some of you are thinking. You're thinking that, maybe the music would have been great, and that I shouldn't have judged a book by its cover, right? Wrong. The way you look, just as the way you carry yourself, has a BIG effect on how you're perceived. Call it superficial, and call it whatever else you'd like, but that's just the way it is. Someone who is likely to do his or her best to look their best is very likely to play their best....or maybe they just needed a drummer who wore ZUBAZ!
There were many, many auditions I went on, and played (ie, I didn't split before touching the damn drums). I tried out for Chubby Checker's band, and even got called back (I declined. With all due respect, I didn't move here to do THAT). Hell, I played with LOTS of people, some of which I'm still friends with to this day. But, really, it took me at least six months before I found people to play with who were on the same page as me in the least. But, I considered that to be a part of my initiation process, and I knew that with time, commitment, and perseverance, I'd finally get on track to where I needed to go. And I did!
As Bon Scott once sang, "It's a long way to the top if you wanna Rock N' Roll!"
Thanks for reading!
Your good friend,
Marty E.
You know, a lot of kids move here from other parts of the country thinking that it's some hotbed of talent and ambition.....they think that the people who inhabit places like (sadly, the now-closed) CBGB's (for example) are all cooler than hell & going somewhere.
What you quickly realize, once you get here, and the cold reality nips at your earlobes, is that there's just MORE of EVERYTHING. Sure, there are a lot more talented, creative, cool people who know where they're going. But, by the same token, there are also many, MANY more dipshits and dildorods who can't play (or sing or act or write or whathaveyou) their way out of a cardboard box....and most of them think that they're just fucking GREAT!
That all being said, one has to start somewhere, so I immediately began getting my ass out there and jamming with anyone who seemed like they might be cool, fun, & interesting, and/or had something promising happening for them. I would take the Subway train all over the place, full of hope that THIS was going to be the one that was going to result in something I'd always dreamed of. What I found, more often than not, wasn't even in the same solar system.
I had my first "audition" (remember, when these so-called "auditions" happen, you're often "auditioning" them as much as they are you) about a week after I arrived here. Hell, I hadn't even found a place to live yet (I was still crashing on a floor in Bay Ridge...thanks yet again, Alfredo!). It was in some sweat box on Dekalb Ave in Brooklyn. These guys (I won't mention what the band's name was, as I don't want to slander anyone....but the name sucked) described themselves as an old-school, melodic Rock N' Roll band, ala-Cheap Trick (one of my favorite bands), so....I went for it.
They were the kind of band that....well, they'd rehearse often, but it was always for ONE show at Arlene's Grocery, maybe ONCE a year. Great. And....they kept talking about how they knew some chick who worked at Atlantic Records who will "probably" show up. Riiiiight.
Their music was ok....not great, but good enough for at the time. I had a good vibe with the guitar player, which showed some promise. In any case, they never called me back after that.
Years later, I became pretty good friends with that guitar player. He told me they never called me back because the singer didn't think I was a good enough drummer. Granted, my chops were rusty, and my playing was probably a bit loose. You see, I'd just MOVED to NEW YORK CITY from the MIDWEST, which....takes some TIME and ENERGY, ahahahahahaha!!!! But this same guitar player came to see a band I used to play in at the Pussycat Lounge (is that place still open?) WAY downtown. After he saw that show, he called the said singer who dismissed my drumming skills, and left him a voicemail with three words: "YOU FUCKED UP!!!!" Hahahahahaha!!! (Thanks Kelly!).
This wouldn't have been the band for me anyway, really. They were the kind of guys who, instead of going OUT there and playing gigs, and building a following and socializing and being cool & making it happen....they would constantly prepare for ONE fucking show that was always three months away, a 9PM slot at Arlene's on a Friday with a bunch of other bands they didn't know.....and yeah, this chick from Atlantic might go. I always came from the school of thought that one learns the ropes of DOING something by DOING it! You aren't going to learn how to satisfy a woman by doing the "five-knuckle shuffle" to porn every night....you know what I mean? Relatively speaking, in terms of playing Rock N' Roll, that's what this band was doing, and they never got anywhere close to where I was to go.....and I'm not all the way there YET, either! Hahahahahaha. But the truth is, I think maybe a couple of these guys were scared. Enough said.
Another time, I set up an audition for some "chick band" (which I didn't mind....I'm not sexist, for God's sake! If PJ Harvey had called me up, I'd have died of a heart attack....by the way....Polly Jean....call me! Hahahahaha). They seemed to be smart enough, and....well, I think they had a residency at some place called the Orange Bear. This didn't inspire confidence, exactly, but I figured, what the hell? It would be free rehearsal for two hours for me (every time you play, it makes you better the NEXT time, you know?), and maybe I'd make some friends.
So....I walked to the rehearsal studio, and was about to open the door....but I heard them playing music already. They were playing Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide".....I felt my heart race....I mean, I like Fleetwood Mac, don't get me wrong but....I'm not fucking PLAYING it, or anything LIKE it. So, I made what may have amounted to a chickenshit move: I BOLTED. To my credit, I went straight to Ultra Sound & gave them 10 bucks to let me drum in one of their open rooms for an hour (I did this a LOT and it saved my ASS when I didn't have anything going on. A drummer needs to drum, not only to keep his chops in shape, but in order to FEEL good).
A similar occurrence happened more recently....maybe five years ago, after I left one of my old bands, and was looking to start fresh. I found some band who described themselves as being Motley Crue meets Bowie or some shit....oh, and they were being looked at by Universal (I've heard THAT more times than I care to divulge). But, I figured, what the fuck, it's right down the street....let's fucking JAM!
Well, I showed up....opened up the door....and this one guy, the guitar player, looked pretty cool. Had the long hair, black jeans, and Black Crowes-esque shirt. Cool. But this....SINGER guy...was quite a portly mammal....and he had an afro that looked like STEEL WOOL on the top of his head....and he was wearing ZUBAZ!!!! Are you fucking KIDDING ME?!!! I'm getting onstage with THIS guy? And Uni are interested? The pungent smell of BULLSHIT filled the room.
I said something like, "Oh SHIT Man....I forgot, I gotta take a piss....I'll be RIGHT back....ok?!!" I stifled a laugh, and wondered if they wondered why I would need to take my drumsticks with me to the bathroom. And I did what any self-respecting, red-blooded American Rock N' Roller would do....I HAULED ASS! Once downstairs, I called my girlfriend (at the time), and said, "Hey Baby.....the bad news is, there's no way in HELL I'm going to play with these dudes, so I split....the good news is, I'm coming home, and am wondering if you're hungry!" Hahahahahahahaaha....
I know what some of you are thinking. You're thinking that, maybe the music would have been great, and that I shouldn't have judged a book by its cover, right? Wrong. The way you look, just as the way you carry yourself, has a BIG effect on how you're perceived. Call it superficial, and call it whatever else you'd like, but that's just the way it is. Someone who is likely to do his or her best to look their best is very likely to play their best....or maybe they just needed a drummer who wore ZUBAZ!
There were many, many auditions I went on, and played (ie, I didn't split before touching the damn drums). I tried out for Chubby Checker's band, and even got called back (I declined. With all due respect, I didn't move here to do THAT). Hell, I played with LOTS of people, some of which I'm still friends with to this day. But, really, it took me at least six months before I found people to play with who were on the same page as me in the least. But, I considered that to be a part of my initiation process, and I knew that with time, commitment, and perseverance, I'd finally get on track to where I needed to go. And I did!
As Bon Scott once sang, "It's a long way to the top if you wanna Rock N' Roll!"
Thanks for reading!
Your good friend,
Marty E.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Best Little Kiss-Off in Texas...Or Was That a Blow-Off?
This past March, my band The Dirty Pearls played at South By Southwest in Austin, TX. It was a week full of adventures, fun, and Rock N' Roll. I had a great time playing Rock N' Roll and partying with my homeboys. That's what we do!
But the funniest thing I remember about it happened the night we got there.
I was walking down the massively crowded street on my own after checking out some band somewhere...I was wearing my new (at the time) Chinese Police Hat, and was feeling pretty damn good about it. While I was carefully considering just where the source of my next beer might be, a gaggle of DIPFUCKS walked by me. One of them had the panache to yell to me, "HEY, nice HAT ya fucking FAGGOT!!!"
I was stunned, not only that this cock mongrel had the insolence to imply that I was a homosexual, but by the fact that he was clearly an ignoramus for not recognizing a fucking cool hat when he saw one! And, let me tell you, Gentle Reader, there was going to be RETRIBUTION!!!!
I turned around, and I BELLOWED after the whole lot of them, these immortal words that will make them think twice before ever again disparaging another Rock N' Roller (at a MUSIC FESTIVAL, no less).
I screamed, "HEY!!! If I'm such a FAGGOT, why don't you come on OVER here, and SUCK MY FUCKIN' DICK?!!!!!"
The blowhard in question then turned around, and said, "WHAT?! WHAT WAS THAT?!!!"
I then pointed to my pelvic region with both hands, and answered, "I SAID, 'SUCK MY DICK!!!!' AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!"
Of course, the boys in shorts didn't attempt to intervene any further, and I walked away, very satisfied with myself! And, I hit the drums even harder than I normally would at the gigs we played over the next couple of days. Here is some footage:
Thanks for reading!
Marty E.
But the funniest thing I remember about it happened the night we got there.
I was walking down the massively crowded street on my own after checking out some band somewhere...I was wearing my new (at the time) Chinese Police Hat, and was feeling pretty damn good about it. While I was carefully considering just where the source of my next beer might be, a gaggle of DIPFUCKS walked by me. One of them had the panache to yell to me, "HEY, nice HAT ya fucking FAGGOT!!!"
I was stunned, not only that this cock mongrel had the insolence to imply that I was a homosexual, but by the fact that he was clearly an ignoramus for not recognizing a fucking cool hat when he saw one! And, let me tell you, Gentle Reader, there was going to be RETRIBUTION!!!!
I turned around, and I BELLOWED after the whole lot of them, these immortal words that will make them think twice before ever again disparaging another Rock N' Roller (at a MUSIC FESTIVAL, no less).
I screamed, "HEY!!! If I'm such a FAGGOT, why don't you come on OVER here, and SUCK MY FUCKIN' DICK?!!!!!"
The blowhard in question then turned around, and said, "WHAT?! WHAT WAS THAT?!!!"
I then pointed to my pelvic region with both hands, and answered, "I SAID, 'SUCK MY DICK!!!!' AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!"
Of course, the boys in shorts didn't attempt to intervene any further, and I walked away, very satisfied with myself! And, I hit the drums even harder than I normally would at the gigs we played over the next couple of days. Here is some footage:
Thanks for reading!
Marty E.
Friday, August 6, 2010
....it all started...and ended...with an ethnic condiment....
A few years back, when I was still living with....an ex of mine (don't ask)...we had woken up on a Saturday afternoon, very hungover and hungry. For some asinine reason, it was decided that I should go around the corner to McDonald's, and procure for us a couple of combo meals (which I don't do anymore...ever....fuck that shit).
I ordered a Quarter-Pounder w/ Cheese (minus onions) meal for myself, and a Veggie Burger meal for what'shername.
So, I was waiting up front for my "food", like a civilized person does, when this substantially LARGE dude who's also waiting, next to his equally corpulent wife, turned to me, and said, "HEY!"
"Um....Hey?!" was my reply.
"What's the NAME of that....ya know....that SAUCE....ya KNOW?!!!!"
"Um....I really don't know, Man....." I answered.
"Awww....Come ON, Man....it's that MEXICAN sauce....yaKNOWwhatIMEAN?!!!"
In a daze and royally hungover, I hadn't the foggiest notion of just what the hell this dude was TALKING about.
"No, Man....no shit, I REALLY don't KNOW....Man!" Was my annoyed but politely expressed reply.
The dude, wearing an orange shirt with white stripes, brown cut-offs (or JORTS, as some people call them) and tenner shoes with Velcro on them, shook his head (as if I'm an idiot...I mean, HE was the one who couldn't think of what the fucking SAUCE was called, ok?) then got his "food", and he and his foodie-in-crime went and sat down.
I was relieved.
A couple more minutes passed. My "food" was finally ready. I then went to grab ketchup and napkins and other-such shit. When I turned around to head toward the door, the head of the Mexican Condiment Investigation Task Force was standing standing in my way.....and he uttered something indecipherable.....
"Heh?" Was my incredulously annoyed response.
He repeated something I still couldn't understand...but it sounded vaguely like, "She's PORTLY!" Right?
I made a face, and was just ABOUT to retort, "Well, you aren't exactly THIN YOURSELF, there, JACK!!!"
But I didn't.....because just as I was ABOUT to say that, he bellowed it, and I understood....he finally figured out what the mystery sauce was, and was sharing this valuable bit of information with me....and it was....
"CHIPOTLE!!!!"
Thanks for reading, and have a kickass weekend!
Your good friend,
Marty E.
PS-I have a fucking million of them!
I ordered a Quarter-Pounder w/ Cheese (minus onions) meal for myself, and a Veggie Burger meal for what'shername.
So, I was waiting up front for my "food", like a civilized person does, when this substantially LARGE dude who's also waiting, next to his equally corpulent wife, turned to me, and said, "HEY!"
"Um....Hey?!" was my reply.
"What's the NAME of that....ya know....that SAUCE....ya KNOW?!!!!"
"Um....I really don't know, Man....." I answered.
"Awww....Come ON, Man....it's that MEXICAN sauce....yaKNOWwhatIMEAN?!!!"
In a daze and royally hungover, I hadn't the foggiest notion of just what the hell this dude was TALKING about.
"No, Man....no shit, I REALLY don't KNOW....Man!" Was my annoyed but politely expressed reply.
The dude, wearing an orange shirt with white stripes, brown cut-offs (or JORTS, as some people call them) and tenner shoes with Velcro on them, shook his head (as if I'm an idiot...I mean, HE was the one who couldn't think of what the fucking SAUCE was called, ok?) then got his "food", and he and his foodie-in-crime went and sat down.
I was relieved.
A couple more minutes passed. My "food" was finally ready. I then went to grab ketchup and napkins and other-such shit. When I turned around to head toward the door, the head of the Mexican Condiment Investigation Task Force was standing standing in my way.....and he uttered something indecipherable.....
"Heh?" Was my incredulously annoyed response.
He repeated something I still couldn't understand...but it sounded vaguely like, "She's PORTLY!" Right?
I made a face, and was just ABOUT to retort, "Well, you aren't exactly THIN YOURSELF, there, JACK!!!"
But I didn't.....because just as I was ABOUT to say that, he bellowed it, and I understood....he finally figured out what the mystery sauce was, and was sharing this valuable bit of information with me....and it was....
"CHIPOTLE!!!!"
Thanks for reading, and have a kickass weekend!
Your good friend,
Marty E.
PS-I have a fucking million of them!
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
A short and sweet statement from the bottom of my heart
Rock N' Roll (or what's passing for it these days) has been hijacked by Hip Hop, hipsters, and horseshit!
My band, the Dirty Pearls, are preparing to steal it back.
Mark my words.
Rehearsals/pre-production for our debut album with David Kahne start one week from today.
When we're through recording this fucker, get on board....or get your sweet ass out of the way!
Your good friend,
Marty E.
My band, the Dirty Pearls, are preparing to steal it back.
Mark my words.
Rehearsals/pre-production for our debut album with David Kahne start one week from today.
When we're through recording this fucker, get on board....or get your sweet ass out of the way!
Your good friend,
Marty E.
Monday, August 2, 2010
7 Questions You Should Ask Yourself About Her (And She Should Ask Herself About You) Before You Decide To Shack Up
Disclaimer #1: I'm no expert on relationships....but what I certainly am is experienced. My experiences have taught me well, and are the source of any authority (and good humor) that I write with here. Case in point, I've been there, and I know what I'm talking about.
Disclaimer #2: I know that the title looks like I'm speaking strictly to the guys about the girls (or the gentlemen about the ladies or the dicks about the chicks), but, as you can see from what are in the parentheses in the title, I'm really speaking to anyone considering moving in with someone. It's just that I'm an American Rock N' Rolling Man, so....that's the point of view from which I speak, that's all.
You understand, I'm sure, if you're even reading this.
OK, here's the list.
#1. How does her Mom treat her Dad?
Think about it. Where does everyone learn things from, first-hand, and who had the most influence on forming a person's values and shaping their perspective on relationships? The answer, much more often than not, is their PARENTS. Now, granted, you really can't generalize things too much, but....if someone comes from a good, well-balanced upbringing (and I'm not talking about superficial, surface shit, like "Class Structure" or "Economics", I'm talking about relationships, love, and interaction), chances are that person will be well-balanced and adjusted as an adult.
However, if one comes from a household, where, say, the mother was the type who walked all over the father, a girl is going to learn something from that, and take that as an example of how to be, even if it's subconscious (and again, you can switch the gender roles to fit your situation, as I said in my disclaimers).
Now granted, you'll have relationships with people whose parents are divorced or they have a deceased parent, but these also are things that affect a person deeply, and are things to think about (but aren't necessarily deal-breakers).
And, if you haven't even MET your significant-other's parents...well, you should put off playing "house" until you have. Which leads me to .....
#2. How Long Have You Been Seeing Each Other?
I know how a lot of people are....I was this way too. You get all infatuated right away, and want to get serious immediately and all that shit, because you're just SO in love, right? Sure! I did it! Hell, some years back, I met and moved in with a girl all in one weekend!!! Was that a good idea? HELL to the Fucking-A NO!!!!
The thing you have to remember is that when you move in with someone, you're not only living with the woman you're infatuated with, as romantic as the notion is. You're sharing a living space with a warts-and-all (hopefully, only in a matter of speaking, hahaha), belching, farting, bitching, sneezing, coughing, jabbering, snoring human being (just as SHE is. Like I said, I'm being fair). She might be a slob....or a neat freak! Hell, you might be a midget porn addict who listens to Peaches & Herb! The point is, you need to make sure you know this person well enough in all of these contexts and settings before you're going to take a big, serious step like this, and that comes from dating someone for quite awhile and getting to KNOW that person for REAL.
#3. Does She Have Violent/Abusive Tendencies?
That means just that. Does she hit you? Is she verbally abusive? Does it drive you INSANE, and start turning you into someone you don't want to be? Well, if this is going on NOW, Jack, don't live under the same roof with her, because it's more-than-likely going to get worse and worse...and it's hard to escape from your own home, more or less.
The fact of that matter is, by moving in with someone, you are placing a lot of faith and trust in her to love, protect, and take care of you (both men and women need that in a relationship). Tainting this with any sort of violence or verbal abuse is the kind of shit that starts leading you down a dark road of resentment, leading to certain destruction and maybe worse. You don't want to go there, do you?! Never mind that any form of abusive behavior never called-for and completely unnecessary; it is going to affect all facets of your life in ways that might not even occur to you.
So, in summation, if this is going on-FORGET ABOUT IT!
#4. Is There Mutual Trust Between You?
This has to be a given. If you decide to go out with your buddies and get shit-faced until 5 am-is she going to freak out and call you every 5 minutes, wondering what you're doing and who you're with? And how about you? How do you act when SHE wants to do her version of the same? Are you the one who's possessive? Furthermore, if there is a lack of trust between you, what is the source of that? Does one person try to control the other's behavior when they're not around, and place unreasonable demands? It's a recipe for disaster, and often, a prophecy that's self-fulfilled.
Often, the one who refuses to trust is the one who's less trustworthy... but, again, it's difficult to generalize. But what's not difficult is to foresee that this sort of thing will most-likely get worse with the onset of cabin fever.
PS-If you feel like you have to snoop through her cellphone or computer, or if she feels she has to do this to you, your relationship is already fucked. I don't care if you've been married for 50 years; violating someone's personal privacy is INEXCUSABLE!!!
#5. Do You Fight A Lot Already?
IF YOU DO....again, it's going to get worse if you move in together, not better.
I'm not talking about the meaningless, often humorous bickering that goes on between people in just about any couple. I'm talking about a situation in which every night out for a few beers turns into War of the Roses. It's not fun. And trust me, the two of you getting into confrontations about who's going to take out the fucking garbage, wash the dishes, and make the goddamn bed is not going to rectify the situation. TRUST me.
#6. Is She TOO Dependent On You?
On the other hand, sometimes a person can be too docile & depressive, and make you feel like you're her everything, ALL the time (and I'll remind you, again, I'm not being gender specific, in case you missed my now MANY disclaimers, hahahaha). Can she get by on her own, and go about her day without constant contact (and for that matter, can you)? I mean, if she's so codependent that she has to write you life-changing text messages like, "I WONDER what I should EAT"....well, you might have something to think about.
A person who is too dependent on the other is ALSO placing unreasonable demands on the other person. This is a REAL drag, and not sexy in the least (and those of you who have been in this situation know EXACTLY what I mean). And the more you give into it, the more you're going to be EXPECTED to give into it.....and you aren't doing ANYONE a favor by doing that. Moving in together, in this case, is going to be just another form of emotional entrapment for you. Don't do it.
#7. What's Going On Financially?
Does one of you have more money than the other, and a higher standard of living? That is fine with some people, but will that situation cause stress? By that, I mean, will the person on the higher end of the financial spectrum feel like he/she's pulling all the weight? Will that put him/her on a power trip? Or, will the person on the lower end of the spectrum feel like a complete loser, due to lack of funds? Will he/she wallow in the relative convenience of the set-up? These are questions you must ask yourselves, even though it may be the furthest thing from you minds.
Why? Because, from both sides, this is the sort of thing that plants the seeds of resentment....and resentment starts small, but it grows and grows, like Cancer. It will eventually be a passion-killer, and will take your relationship with it. Read that again, because this is the maybe the most important paragraph I've written here.
So, with THAT all being said.....
I think that about covers it. I'm sure there are many other issues I didn't cover, but that's a damn good start. Everyone has their issues....hell, there are probably 1,000,000 times as many issues in this world as there are human beings!
It's a wonder how anyone gets laid!
Anyway, good luck to you, and thanks for reading!
Marty E.
Disclaimer #2: I know that the title looks like I'm speaking strictly to the guys about the girls (or the gentlemen about the ladies or the dicks about the chicks), but, as you can see from what are in the parentheses in the title, I'm really speaking to anyone considering moving in with someone. It's just that I'm an American Rock N' Rolling Man, so....that's the point of view from which I speak, that's all.
You understand, I'm sure, if you're even reading this.
OK, here's the list.
#1. How does her Mom treat her Dad?
Think about it. Where does everyone learn things from, first-hand, and who had the most influence on forming a person's values and shaping their perspective on relationships? The answer, much more often than not, is their PARENTS. Now, granted, you really can't generalize things too much, but....if someone comes from a good, well-balanced upbringing (and I'm not talking about superficial, surface shit, like "Class Structure" or "Economics", I'm talking about relationships, love, and interaction), chances are that person will be well-balanced and adjusted as an adult.
However, if one comes from a household, where, say, the mother was the type who walked all over the father, a girl is going to learn something from that, and take that as an example of how to be, even if it's subconscious (and again, you can switch the gender roles to fit your situation, as I said in my disclaimers).
Now granted, you'll have relationships with people whose parents are divorced or they have a deceased parent, but these also are things that affect a person deeply, and are things to think about (but aren't necessarily deal-breakers).
And, if you haven't even MET your significant-other's parents...well, you should put off playing "house" until you have. Which leads me to .....
#2. How Long Have You Been Seeing Each Other?
I know how a lot of people are....I was this way too. You get all infatuated right away, and want to get serious immediately and all that shit, because you're just SO in love, right? Sure! I did it! Hell, some years back, I met and moved in with a girl all in one weekend!!! Was that a good idea? HELL to the Fucking-A NO!!!!
The thing you have to remember is that when you move in with someone, you're not only living with the woman you're infatuated with, as romantic as the notion is. You're sharing a living space with a warts-and-all (hopefully, only in a matter of speaking, hahaha), belching, farting, bitching, sneezing, coughing, jabbering, snoring human being (just as SHE is. Like I said, I'm being fair). She might be a slob....or a neat freak! Hell, you might be a midget porn addict who listens to Peaches & Herb! The point is, you need to make sure you know this person well enough in all of these contexts and settings before you're going to take a big, serious step like this, and that comes from dating someone for quite awhile and getting to KNOW that person for REAL.
#3. Does She Have Violent/Abusive Tendencies?
That means just that. Does she hit you? Is she verbally abusive? Does it drive you INSANE, and start turning you into someone you don't want to be? Well, if this is going on NOW, Jack, don't live under the same roof with her, because it's more-than-likely going to get worse and worse...and it's hard to escape from your own home, more or less.
The fact of that matter is, by moving in with someone, you are placing a lot of faith and trust in her to love, protect, and take care of you (both men and women need that in a relationship). Tainting this with any sort of violence or verbal abuse is the kind of shit that starts leading you down a dark road of resentment, leading to certain destruction and maybe worse. You don't want to go there, do you?! Never mind that any form of abusive behavior never called-for and completely unnecessary; it is going to affect all facets of your life in ways that might not even occur to you.
So, in summation, if this is going on-FORGET ABOUT IT!
#4. Is There Mutual Trust Between You?
This has to be a given. If you decide to go out with your buddies and get shit-faced until 5 am-is she going to freak out and call you every 5 minutes, wondering what you're doing and who you're with? And how about you? How do you act when SHE wants to do her version of the same? Are you the one who's possessive? Furthermore, if there is a lack of trust between you, what is the source of that? Does one person try to control the other's behavior when they're not around, and place unreasonable demands? It's a recipe for disaster, and often, a prophecy that's self-fulfilled.
Often, the one who refuses to trust is the one who's less trustworthy... but, again, it's difficult to generalize. But what's not difficult is to foresee that this sort of thing will most-likely get worse with the onset of cabin fever.
PS-If you feel like you have to snoop through her cellphone or computer, or if she feels she has to do this to you, your relationship is already fucked. I don't care if you've been married for 50 years; violating someone's personal privacy is INEXCUSABLE!!!
#5. Do You Fight A Lot Already?
IF YOU DO....again, it's going to get worse if you move in together, not better.
I'm not talking about the meaningless, often humorous bickering that goes on between people in just about any couple. I'm talking about a situation in which every night out for a few beers turns into War of the Roses. It's not fun. And trust me, the two of you getting into confrontations about who's going to take out the fucking garbage, wash the dishes, and make the goddamn bed is not going to rectify the situation. TRUST me.
#6. Is She TOO Dependent On You?
On the other hand, sometimes a person can be too docile & depressive, and make you feel like you're her everything, ALL the time (and I'll remind you, again, I'm not being gender specific, in case you missed my now MANY disclaimers, hahahaha). Can she get by on her own, and go about her day without constant contact (and for that matter, can you)? I mean, if she's so codependent that she has to write you life-changing text messages like, "I WONDER what I should EAT"....well, you might have something to think about.
A person who is too dependent on the other is ALSO placing unreasonable demands on the other person. This is a REAL drag, and not sexy in the least (and those of you who have been in this situation know EXACTLY what I mean). And the more you give into it, the more you're going to be EXPECTED to give into it.....and you aren't doing ANYONE a favor by doing that. Moving in together, in this case, is going to be just another form of emotional entrapment for you. Don't do it.
#7. What's Going On Financially?
Does one of you have more money than the other, and a higher standard of living? That is fine with some people, but will that situation cause stress? By that, I mean, will the person on the higher end of the financial spectrum feel like he/she's pulling all the weight? Will that put him/her on a power trip? Or, will the person on the lower end of the spectrum feel like a complete loser, due to lack of funds? Will he/she wallow in the relative convenience of the set-up? These are questions you must ask yourselves, even though it may be the furthest thing from you minds.
Why? Because, from both sides, this is the sort of thing that plants the seeds of resentment....and resentment starts small, but it grows and grows, like Cancer. It will eventually be a passion-killer, and will take your relationship with it. Read that again, because this is the maybe the most important paragraph I've written here.
So, with THAT all being said.....
I think that about covers it. I'm sure there are many other issues I didn't cover, but that's a damn good start. Everyone has their issues....hell, there are probably 1,000,000 times as many issues in this world as there are human beings!
It's a wonder how anyone gets laid!
Anyway, good luck to you, and thanks for reading!
Marty E.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Whatever happened to my Rock N' Roll....and my Easy Listening, for that matter?!!!!
I've spoken at length in the past about how, in the places that I hang out, most of the music that's played is Rock N' Roll/Pop Music from the 70's through the 90's, more or less, regardless of the age group of the bar patrons at that particular time and place. It's strange how, in a bar full of people of different ages, from their early-20's to mid-40's, they all love the same music, whether it be Guns N' Roses, the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Soundgarden, or whathaveyou. I'll be dj-ing, and 22-year-old girls want me to play more Motley Crue and Depeche Mode....and they weren't even BORN yet when a lot of these bands' songs were originally released, for Christ's sake!
Which begs the question: is music itself becoming something archaic...something antiquated...something that's purely vintage in quality, like a really expensive red wine, or a roughed up pair of Beatle Boots?!!
Is it nothing but pure nostalgia? If so, that's sad. Because that would imply that it's merely, as Leonard Cohen sang, "A shining artifact of the past." FUCK that! What about NOW?!
Day-in and day-out, I hear from people that they miss the sound of Loud Rock N' Roll, and they wonder where the hell it went. And that is a REALLY good question. I mean, seriously, I usually dj at least twice a week, in the dark Rock N' Roll dives in New York's East Village and Lower East Side, and the only modern bands I can think of that I play with any regularity are my band (the Dirty Pearls, if you live under a rock), my friends' bands, and....bands like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, A Perfect Circle, Queens of the Stone Age, HIM, etc. Other than that, it's like, my favorite Rock N' Roll bands from the 60's, 70's, 80's, & 90's. Go figure. Am I part of the problem? Is it a problem at all?
I know why it is. Generally, nobody's buying recorded music anymore, so, no new bands are being marketed (or shoved down the American Public's throats) anymore. The Music Industry and all its money basically disappeared up its own asshole, due to blind greed, and an overwhelming lack of quality in the music ("product") it generated.
So, with few exceptions, in order for Rock N' Roll fans to get their rocks off when they go out, the classics have to suffice. The funniest thing about is that younger Rock N' Roll fans were RAISED on that music by their PARENTS of all people. So much for Rock N' Roll being "rebellious music." But that's ok. Hell, my band has parents bringing their kids to our shows, and for that matter, some people bringing their parents....and that's pretty cool, if you ask me.
But, someone needs to carry the torch for Rock N' Roll, and define the time we're in NOW, don't you think?
These are open questions; ones of continuous discussion for some time in my case.
What do YOU think?
Thanks for your time!
Marty E.
Which begs the question: is music itself becoming something archaic...something antiquated...something that's purely vintage in quality, like a really expensive red wine, or a roughed up pair of Beatle Boots?!!
Is it nothing but pure nostalgia? If so, that's sad. Because that would imply that it's merely, as Leonard Cohen sang, "A shining artifact of the past." FUCK that! What about NOW?!
Day-in and day-out, I hear from people that they miss the sound of Loud Rock N' Roll, and they wonder where the hell it went. And that is a REALLY good question. I mean, seriously, I usually dj at least twice a week, in the dark Rock N' Roll dives in New York's East Village and Lower East Side, and the only modern bands I can think of that I play with any regularity are my band (the Dirty Pearls, if you live under a rock), my friends' bands, and....bands like Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, A Perfect Circle, Queens of the Stone Age, HIM, etc. Other than that, it's like, my favorite Rock N' Roll bands from the 60's, 70's, 80's, & 90's. Go figure. Am I part of the problem? Is it a problem at all?
I know why it is. Generally, nobody's buying recorded music anymore, so, no new bands are being marketed (or shoved down the American Public's throats) anymore. The Music Industry and all its money basically disappeared up its own asshole, due to blind greed, and an overwhelming lack of quality in the music ("product") it generated.
So, with few exceptions, in order for Rock N' Roll fans to get their rocks off when they go out, the classics have to suffice. The funniest thing about is that younger Rock N' Roll fans were RAISED on that music by their PARENTS of all people. So much for Rock N' Roll being "rebellious music." But that's ok. Hell, my band has parents bringing their kids to our shows, and for that matter, some people bringing their parents....and that's pretty cool, if you ask me.
But, someone needs to carry the torch for Rock N' Roll, and define the time we're in NOW, don't you think?
These are open questions; ones of continuous discussion for some time in my case.
What do YOU think?
Thanks for your time!
Marty E.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
"I said, 'EXCUSE ME!'" or "The Trials & Tribulations of Dealing with People with no Spacial Awareness or Social Intelligence": PART 1
If you're going to live in New York City, you have to adjust the the fact that there are over least 8 million people here (more, if you count commuters from the likes of New Jersey) eating, drinking, sleeping, traveling, and, most of all, LIVING on top of (and underneath) one another. That's simply a fact of life here, and if you can't deal with it....there's plenty of space in Kansas, Dorothy!
That being said, I cannot overstate the importance of being aware of your surroundings in this city....at all times, if possible. Not only might this prevent you from getting hurt, killed, or ripped off....but it also increases your level of common courtesy, out and about in the world, which makes it easier for EVERYONE to live here, day to day.
At any given moment, you have your personal space, and other people have theirs. When I'm out in the world, I want to get to where I'm going and do what I do, and I'd like to do that without your personal space intersecting with (with notable exceptions, hahahaha) or invading mine. In order for that to happen, one must be alert, observant, and at least mildly empathetic (and this is even possible while blasting an Ipod in your ears if you're reasonably sharp. Trust me). I call it "Spacial Awareness". I'm not sure if I made the term up or not....but who the hell cares?
The problem is that many, many people who cross my path don't have it at all....which surprises me, considering the amount of people who have been here for a lot longer than I have, many of which were born and raised here.
So, I'm going to describe some scenarios that happen to me, sometimes on a daily basis, in which people's lack of Spacial Awareness colors my day with various shades of red....from the mildly annoying to the astronomically infuriating!
My favorite one happens all the time. For example, I will attempt to walk into a deli to buy myself an iced coffee and a newspaper, when, much to my chagrin, I find some jackoff standing in the doorway, in MY WAY, for no evident reason. And, an even BIGGER mystery to me, is WHY the said JACKOFF won't MOVE!!! So....what do I do? Well, I'll look the pinwang in the EYE, and, in my deepest, gruffest voice (and those of you who know me know damn well how great I am at this), I bark, "EXCUSE me!!!" More often than not, they get startled, and quickly scamper to the side, allowing me to squeeze through and get on with my day. Each and every time, under my breath, I mutter, "That's a NICE way of saying, 'Get the FUCK out of my WAY!'" This is always worth a chuckle or two if I have a friend with me, ahahahaha....
Another ignoramus whom I find particularly titillating, is the dipfuck who's walking 5-steps ahead of you on the sidewalk who, for no apparent reason, decides to suddenly stop in his tracks. Consequently, the asshat in question comes damn close to wreaking havoc on the entire progression of pedestrian traffic on that particular block, when you come close to plowing right into him and toppling him and God knows who else, over like dominoes. The best part? If you do happen to run smack dab into the guy, or even brush against him a little, bit, the numbskull will look at YOU as if YOU did something wrong and were invading HIS personal space!!! Tourists are famous for this move. That's why some clever guy decided to give them THEIR OWN LANE.
There are other nincompoops that are similar to the "sidewalk stallers", but are possibly even more irritating. Let's say I'm walking into the Subway Station, and there are perhaps 6 or 7 other people also doing so. The train we all want to take is in the station, and about to leave, so everyone runs to try to make the train. There's always at least ONE genius who, once he gets ON the train, suddenly, again, just STOPS in his TRACKS, right on the inside of the train doors.....once again, risking a human avalanche, or at least keeping those behind him from getting on the train before the doors close, and the train takes off. And, what inspirational words to I have for the ASSCLOWN in question? "Hey, Dude! No WORRIES, Man! None of US wanted to get on the train TOO, ya know? We just wanted to accompany YOUR dumb ass to make sure YOU got on ok. That's fucking AWESOME!!!" Or something to that effect. This particular dipshit has never prevented me from getting on the train, but he has afforded me many a chorus of laughs at his expense. Hopefully, it was a lesson well-learned, but....sadly, probably not. What a fucking idiot!
Speaking of Subway Trains....this maybe isn't THAT big of a deal...but you've seen this before, and it annoys me enough that I MUST remark on it. I get on the train and it's a bit crowded. The train is moving, and I always want to hold onto what ever pole or bars or whatever is put there to hold onto to prevent me from falling down (and don't even get me STARTED about the fucking multitudes of MORONS who DON'T use them and have almost "bitten it" right before my eyes). Well, so I reach for the nearest pole (shut up, I know what you're thinking, but I have a much better joke coming up), and some complete Shit-For-Brains is LEANING on it.....which, not only isn't really maintaining much stability to the fool in question, no one ELSE can use it to stabilize themselves either? The best part? 99% of the time, the guy is leaning his ASS against it! I've never actually said this, but one of these days, I'm going to: "Dude, listen....we can all tell by looking at you how badly you want a POLE in your ass....but can't you at least WAIT until you get OFF the fucking TRAIN?!!! THANKS!!!!" Ahahahahahahaha.....
I could go on....about people, who....when you're waiting in line, and the line moves, they just stay in one place, and refuse to MOVE the fuck UP....(try just walking past them....that usually wakes them up)....and many other people who lack common courtesy in every-day life, but I'm trying to keep this as short as I can, ok?
Now, stay the hell out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours!
Thanks for reading!
Marty E.
PS-On an unrelated note, there's another idiot that really burns me that I NEED to tell you about, right NOW....just to get it OFF my CHEST, ok?
I walk into the pizzeria, and get myself a slice....and I can't seem to find the seasonings! The...black pepper...the RED pepper....and sometimes I want Parmesan fucking cheese, ok? Where the hell ARE they?!!! I look around....and some lardass is sitting at a table....and they're all there....suspiciously close to his PLATE. "Hey Man.....I REALIZE that YOU are SO much more SPECIAL than the other 500 people who get a slice here EVERY fucking DAY. I REALIZE that the SEASONINGS....the CONDIMENTS, if you will, are STRICTLY for YOUR use....hell, no one else would EVER even WANT to use THOSE! We ALL REALIZE that YOUR three fucking dollars are GREENER than the REST of ours! But would you fucking MIND if I BORROWED them for a MINUTE?!!!" I mean, seriously, why can't these crankjobs just sprinkle the shit on their slice up at the counter, as soon as they get it, and then SIT their ass down, and enjoy?!! That's what those of us with good SENSE do!!!
OK....enough of my ranting!
That being said, I cannot overstate the importance of being aware of your surroundings in this city....at all times, if possible. Not only might this prevent you from getting hurt, killed, or ripped off....but it also increases your level of common courtesy, out and about in the world, which makes it easier for EVERYONE to live here, day to day.
At any given moment, you have your personal space, and other people have theirs. When I'm out in the world, I want to get to where I'm going and do what I do, and I'd like to do that without your personal space intersecting with (with notable exceptions, hahahaha) or invading mine. In order for that to happen, one must be alert, observant, and at least mildly empathetic (and this is even possible while blasting an Ipod in your ears if you're reasonably sharp. Trust me). I call it "Spacial Awareness". I'm not sure if I made the term up or not....but who the hell cares?
The problem is that many, many people who cross my path don't have it at all....which surprises me, considering the amount of people who have been here for a lot longer than I have, many of which were born and raised here.
So, I'm going to describe some scenarios that happen to me, sometimes on a daily basis, in which people's lack of Spacial Awareness colors my day with various shades of red....from the mildly annoying to the astronomically infuriating!
My favorite one happens all the time. For example, I will attempt to walk into a deli to buy myself an iced coffee and a newspaper, when, much to my chagrin, I find some jackoff standing in the doorway, in MY WAY, for no evident reason. And, an even BIGGER mystery to me, is WHY the said JACKOFF won't MOVE!!! So....what do I do? Well, I'll look the pinwang in the EYE, and, in my deepest, gruffest voice (and those of you who know me know damn well how great I am at this), I bark, "EXCUSE me!!!" More often than not, they get startled, and quickly scamper to the side, allowing me to squeeze through and get on with my day. Each and every time, under my breath, I mutter, "That's a NICE way of saying, 'Get the FUCK out of my WAY!'" This is always worth a chuckle or two if I have a friend with me, ahahahaha....
Another ignoramus whom I find particularly titillating, is the dipfuck who's walking 5-steps ahead of you on the sidewalk who, for no apparent reason, decides to suddenly stop in his tracks. Consequently, the asshat in question comes damn close to wreaking havoc on the entire progression of pedestrian traffic on that particular block, when you come close to plowing right into him and toppling him and God knows who else, over like dominoes. The best part? If you do happen to run smack dab into the guy, or even brush against him a little, bit, the numbskull will look at YOU as if YOU did something wrong and were invading HIS personal space!!! Tourists are famous for this move. That's why some clever guy decided to give them THEIR OWN LANE.
There are other nincompoops that are similar to the "sidewalk stallers", but are possibly even more irritating. Let's say I'm walking into the Subway Station, and there are perhaps 6 or 7 other people also doing so. The train we all want to take is in the station, and about to leave, so everyone runs to try to make the train. There's always at least ONE genius who, once he gets ON the train, suddenly, again, just STOPS in his TRACKS, right on the inside of the train doors.....once again, risking a human avalanche, or at least keeping those behind him from getting on the train before the doors close, and the train takes off. And, what inspirational words to I have for the ASSCLOWN in question? "Hey, Dude! No WORRIES, Man! None of US wanted to get on the train TOO, ya know? We just wanted to accompany YOUR dumb ass to make sure YOU got on ok. That's fucking AWESOME!!!" Or something to that effect. This particular dipshit has never prevented me from getting on the train, but he has afforded me many a chorus of laughs at his expense. Hopefully, it was a lesson well-learned, but....sadly, probably not. What a fucking idiot!
Speaking of Subway Trains....this maybe isn't THAT big of a deal...but you've seen this before, and it annoys me enough that I MUST remark on it. I get on the train and it's a bit crowded. The train is moving, and I always want to hold onto what ever pole or bars or whatever is put there to hold onto to prevent me from falling down (and don't even get me STARTED about the fucking multitudes of MORONS who DON'T use them and have almost "bitten it" right before my eyes). Well, so I reach for the nearest pole (shut up, I know what you're thinking, but I have a much better joke coming up), and some complete Shit-For-Brains is LEANING on it.....which, not only isn't really maintaining much stability to the fool in question, no one ELSE can use it to stabilize themselves either? The best part? 99% of the time, the guy is leaning his ASS against it! I've never actually said this, but one of these days, I'm going to: "Dude, listen....we can all tell by looking at you how badly you want a POLE in your ass....but can't you at least WAIT until you get OFF the fucking TRAIN?!!! THANKS!!!!" Ahahahahahahaha.....
I could go on....about people, who....when you're waiting in line, and the line moves, they just stay in one place, and refuse to MOVE the fuck UP....(try just walking past them....that usually wakes them up)....and many other people who lack common courtesy in every-day life, but I'm trying to keep this as short as I can, ok?
Now, stay the hell out of my way, and I'll stay out of yours!
Thanks for reading!
Marty E.
PS-On an unrelated note, there's another idiot that really burns me that I NEED to tell you about, right NOW....just to get it OFF my CHEST, ok?
I walk into the pizzeria, and get myself a slice....and I can't seem to find the seasonings! The...black pepper...the RED pepper....and sometimes I want Parmesan fucking cheese, ok? Where the hell ARE they?!!! I look around....and some lardass is sitting at a table....and they're all there....suspiciously close to his PLATE. "Hey Man.....I REALIZE that YOU are SO much more SPECIAL than the other 500 people who get a slice here EVERY fucking DAY. I REALIZE that the SEASONINGS....the CONDIMENTS, if you will, are STRICTLY for YOUR use....hell, no one else would EVER even WANT to use THOSE! We ALL REALIZE that YOUR three fucking dollars are GREENER than the REST of ours! But would you fucking MIND if I BORROWED them for a MINUTE?!!!" I mean, seriously, why can't these crankjobs just sprinkle the shit on their slice up at the counter, as soon as they get it, and then SIT their ass down, and enjoy?!! That's what those of us with good SENSE do!!!
OK....enough of my ranting!
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