Which brings us to the car...Now, I certainly haven't spent enough time around other Indians beyond the Singhs to know if this is some sort of Indian cultural thing...or just particular to this specific family, but my God are these fuckers useless without a GPS device. How did they drive before they were invented.
The Singhs had insisted we pay the extra $10 to rent a car with GPS, and in all fairness, it did come in quite handy the following day when we'd take back roads to get to the stadium...but on the drive up, the brothers had spent a solid ten minutes trying to program the address of the hotel into the GPS and then find a way to successfully mount it on the window or dashboard...instead of, you know, just driving to Boston, following the signs and then figuring it out.
So here we sat, wedged in the back seat of their turn-of-the-millennium luxury sedan, already late for dinner and waiting while a middle aged Indian couple programmed their GPS device. Now, what made this slightly more ridiculous was that, as the car was nearly 10 years old...it had a GPS built into the dashboard, but since this was an old and slow model, they had also purchased a newer, shinier GPS...and they were now trying to program both or either of them to tell them how to get to the restaurant. The restaurant was just on the other side of the Charles, in Cambridge...again, simply driving over there was, I guess, not an option. After 5 or so minutes of fiddling with it, they finally got one of them to work and we headed out.
Sometimes a band can put out material as a B-side that is every bit as strong as their A-Side material. The Beatles were, of course, masters of it (Daytripper, Penny Lane, Revolution). Radiohead, in their heyday certainly put out some amazing b-sides (Permenant Daylight, Trickster, Palo Alto, Pearly*), and I would say that in this instance The Jam have put out a song that stands with their best work. Solid rabble rousing, that's equal parts punk and Beatle-esque...it's everything Paul Weller does, done well.
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Rants. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Anyone Who's Anyone - Sloan - One Chord to Another - 1997
Ok, sorry for the lack of updates last week. It was a hectic week for me, both personally and professionally. Hopefully, the semi-regular service will resume now.
So, to resume the bitching...I was out during my lunch break and realized that I didn't have enough cash. I swung into a Duane Reade where they have Chase ATMs. An old Russian woman and her daughter were at the machine and there was one guy in front of me, so nothing too bad...except that old russian woman stayed at the machine for easily ten minutes. It was ridiculous...adn this is an ATM in a drug store...it's not like she could do balance transfers and deposits. She was taking 10 minutes (with her 30 something daughter's help) to WITHDRAWAL CASH. Seriouly, if you can't handle the complicated technology in a freaking ATM machine, it's time to move out of The Big Apple and down to Florida. You're holding the rest of us up.
The problem with multi-singer songwriter bands is frequently that not all the songwriters are on the same level of skill. Some of your writers could be John or Paul, others Ringo. I've never liked Sloan enough to try to discern which of it's 4 songwriters are which, but whichever one this is...he's the Ringo...though honestly, he's a little better than Ringo. I mean, this is no Octopus' Garden, but it's certainly much weaker than the other material on this not coincidentally Beatle-esque album. Other than the uncharacteristically abrassive sonics, this is pretty dull stuff on an otherwise decent album.
So, to resume the bitching...I was out during my lunch break and realized that I didn't have enough cash. I swung into a Duane Reade where they have Chase ATMs. An old Russian woman and her daughter were at the machine and there was one guy in front of me, so nothing too bad...except that old russian woman stayed at the machine for easily ten minutes. It was ridiculous...adn this is an ATM in a drug store...it's not like she could do balance transfers and deposits. She was taking 10 minutes (with her 30 something daughter's help) to WITHDRAWAL CASH. Seriouly, if you can't handle the complicated technology in a freaking ATM machine, it's time to move out of The Big Apple and down to Florida. You're holding the rest of us up.
The problem with multi-singer songwriter bands is frequently that not all the songwriters are on the same level of skill. Some of your writers could be John or Paul, others Ringo. I've never liked Sloan enough to try to discern which of it's 4 songwriters are which, but whichever one this is...he's the Ringo...though honestly, he's a little better than Ringo. I mean, this is no Octopus' Garden, but it's certainly much weaker than the other material on this not coincidentally Beatle-esque album. Other than the uncharacteristically abrassive sonics, this is pretty dull stuff on an otherwise decent album.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
(Antichrist Television Blues) - The Arcade Fire - Neon Bible - 2007
I spent enough time in crazy midwestern churches to know what the contemporary Christian idea of the Antichrist is...what they believe he will be. And while Joe Simpson, doesn't really fit that mold, I can't think of a better symbol (nor can Win Butler, apparently) for everything that is wrong with modern American Christianity than this despicable douchebag.
Despite loudly espousing a religion that at it's core explicitly decries the love of money as the root of all evil, he seeks nothing more than wealth. Despite extolling the virtues of "purity" he makes soft core prostitues of both of his daughters, who spent their youth defining "technical viriginity" while dropping their tits all over MTV, forciing both of them into early and at least in one case disastorous marriages to reconcile their sex drives with their belief system. Despite vocally supporting our troops, our president, and our country, he supports policies that destroy our country all for the sake of a tax break.
His first daughter, for all of her pnuematic stupidity has been rebranded time and time again to suit the needs of a market place that needed virginal teen idols, and then a model wife, and then a jilted sex pot, and now...apparently looking to fill the country shoes (and bra) of Dolly Parton.
His younger daughter attempted to be different (granted in a lame way) to step out from her sister's shadow and was eventually forced to abandon this to countless turns under the knife to become the same sort of hollow barbie doll.
And to answer the question posed by the "fictional" Mr. Simpson in Win's song...you may not be THE Antichrist, but you are certainly anti-everything that Christian values were supposed to mean before they were co-opted by the Republican party.
Despite loudly espousing a religion that at it's core explicitly decries the love of money as the root of all evil, he seeks nothing more than wealth. Despite extolling the virtues of "purity" he makes soft core prostitues of both of his daughters, who spent their youth defining "technical viriginity" while dropping their tits all over MTV, forciing both of them into early and at least in one case disastorous marriages to reconcile their sex drives with their belief system. Despite vocally supporting our troops, our president, and our country, he supports policies that destroy our country all for the sake of a tax break.
His first daughter, for all of her pnuematic stupidity has been rebranded time and time again to suit the needs of a market place that needed virginal teen idols, and then a model wife, and then a jilted sex pot, and now...apparently looking to fill the country shoes (and bra) of Dolly Parton.
His younger daughter attempted to be different (granted in a lame way) to step out from her sister's shadow and was eventually forced to abandon this to countless turns under the knife to become the same sort of hollow barbie doll.
And to answer the question posed by the "fictional" Mr. Simpson in Win's song...you may not be THE Antichrist, but you are certainly anti-everything that Christian values were supposed to mean before they were co-opted by the Republican party.
Anti-Anti - Snowden - Anti-Anti - 2006
I remember reading an article on Pitchfork sometime towards the end of 2006. The article itself was not about Snowden, but rather some newer Dan Deacon/Girltalk kinda album, but this record was mentioned of as an example of an album that was not particularly innovative but simply decent. I'm paraphrasing but I believe it said something like "If Snowden's Anti-Anti was your favorite album of last year then you are still stuck in the rockist era of 2002, old man!"
I have an uncle, my mother's youngest brother who is only 17 years older than me. When I was a baby, he was frequently my sitter...and later on, as the oldest child, he was frequently my "big brother". He spent his entire life with severe diabetis that eventually caused him to go blind at 27.
During my Junior High School days, when I was a weird, too-smart, and obnoxious teenager he was frequently my best friend...and one of the things he passed on to me was his love of rock music and thus my encyclopedic knowledge of 60's and 70's classic rock.
The thing is, my uncle had always been a charmer. When I watch the movie Dazed and Confused, one of the reasons to love it, is how much my uncle seems to have been almost exactly like Randy "Pink" Floyd...the smart jock that everyone liked...so going blind at 27 was crushing to him. His life, in effect, stopped. And his only friends were the members of the crazy church he attended, hoping to be cured of his blindness (Note: He didn't just go blind, he had his eyes removed), and a tubby 13 year old without a positive male influence in his life.
I was able to keep my uncle in touch with music for a bit and my brother picked up where I left off...but gradually it became unavoidable that he was stuck in his own heyday. He could take things that were close to his own experience, the obviously 70's influenced stomp of grunge, or the Pink Floyd-isness of Perfect from Now On era Built to Spill, but the glitchy post-Kid A Radiohead and it's ilk were a bridge too far.
I tried making him mixes with bands that were obviously still mired in the music he loved, the southern boogie of My Morning Jacket or the Neil Young thrust of Magnolia Electric Company, but in the end I'd return to see my uncle obsessing over the latest Allman Brothers bootleg he'd found at the Karma. Even a man without kids, without a job, who gets most of his pleasure from sitting in a garage, chain smoking, and listening to rock music, still experienced that same paralysis in time. For him, the best music would always be the music they made in 1976.
The point is, I live in fear of this...the point at which my tastes atrophy. I can already feel it happening, that my tastes have basically locked down somewhere between 2003-2005 with the sweet spot actually being 1998. I continue to like new albums, but I find that the ones I like the best are those steeped in what I'm familiar with. Too much of what is being made now is too referential, too reliant on juxtaposing pop culture I find disposable without really adding anything to the equation...or worse, too gentle and inoffensive, rife with the softness of a suburban generation, and without the nihilist urges I feel to burn to this irreperably flawed world to the ground and start from scratch.
The battle to stay young and relevant permeates our botox ridden society. It's a fight that everyone loses, but I think it's the manner in which you go down fighting that matters. It's all about the manner in which we face our own mortality, I suppose.
I have an uncle, my mother's youngest brother who is only 17 years older than me. When I was a baby, he was frequently my sitter...and later on, as the oldest child, he was frequently my "big brother". He spent his entire life with severe diabetis that eventually caused him to go blind at 27.
During my Junior High School days, when I was a weird, too-smart, and obnoxious teenager he was frequently my best friend...and one of the things he passed on to me was his love of rock music and thus my encyclopedic knowledge of 60's and 70's classic rock.
The thing is, my uncle had always been a charmer. When I watch the movie Dazed and Confused, one of the reasons to love it, is how much my uncle seems to have been almost exactly like Randy "Pink" Floyd...the smart jock that everyone liked...so going blind at 27 was crushing to him. His life, in effect, stopped. And his only friends were the members of the crazy church he attended, hoping to be cured of his blindness (Note: He didn't just go blind, he had his eyes removed), and a tubby 13 year old without a positive male influence in his life.
I was able to keep my uncle in touch with music for a bit and my brother picked up where I left off...but gradually it became unavoidable that he was stuck in his own heyday. He could take things that were close to his own experience, the obviously 70's influenced stomp of grunge, or the Pink Floyd-isness of Perfect from Now On era Built to Spill, but the glitchy post-Kid A Radiohead and it's ilk were a bridge too far.
I tried making him mixes with bands that were obviously still mired in the music he loved, the southern boogie of My Morning Jacket or the Neil Young thrust of Magnolia Electric Company, but in the end I'd return to see my uncle obsessing over the latest Allman Brothers bootleg he'd found at the Karma. Even a man without kids, without a job, who gets most of his pleasure from sitting in a garage, chain smoking, and listening to rock music, still experienced that same paralysis in time. For him, the best music would always be the music they made in 1976.
The point is, I live in fear of this...the point at which my tastes atrophy. I can already feel it happening, that my tastes have basically locked down somewhere between 2003-2005 with the sweet spot actually being 1998. I continue to like new albums, but I find that the ones I like the best are those steeped in what I'm familiar with. Too much of what is being made now is too referential, too reliant on juxtaposing pop culture I find disposable without really adding anything to the equation...or worse, too gentle and inoffensive, rife with the softness of a suburban generation, and without the nihilist urges I feel to burn to this irreperably flawed world to the ground and start from scratch.
The battle to stay young and relevant permeates our botox ridden society. It's a fight that everyone loses, but I think it's the manner in which you go down fighting that matters. It's all about the manner in which we face our own mortality, I suppose.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Another Person - Jay Reatard - Night of Broken Glass - 2007
Let me tell you something about Mexico that I did not expect. It's really, really fucking hot. Sure, you think to yourself...haven't you ever seen a movie set in Mexico? But come on, it's October...I figured it would be hot during the day (perfect for the beach) and then cool off at night for some pleasant seaside sleeping.
No, this does not happen...despite being one of the most beautiful places I've ever been too, with pristine beaches and gorgeous skies...I couldn't help spending a little bit of my trip cranky, cause I just wasn't sleeping at night...cause it was just so muggy.
On our second day we took a hike to the maya ruins of Tulum, which are amazing...but within less than an hour both my lady friend and myself were covered in sweat, dehydrated and slightly confused. And of course, cause of the "don't drink the water thing" an ice cold glass of water or a coke were no where to be found. So you drink beer, even if you don't want it...cause it's the only cold thing they got.
All in all, it was a lovely trip...but when I got home, I drank a giant glass of water, straight from the tap...and then went to sleep in my own bed with the windows all the way open so that I could enjoy the cool of an NYC Autumn.
Jay Reatard doing his Devo meets Question Mark and the Mysterians thing. Not bad, but there are songs of his I prefer to this.
No, this does not happen...despite being one of the most beautiful places I've ever been too, with pristine beaches and gorgeous skies...I couldn't help spending a little bit of my trip cranky, cause I just wasn't sleeping at night...cause it was just so muggy.
On our second day we took a hike to the maya ruins of Tulum, which are amazing...but within less than an hour both my lady friend and myself were covered in sweat, dehydrated and slightly confused. And of course, cause of the "don't drink the water thing" an ice cold glass of water or a coke were no where to be found. So you drink beer, even if you don't want it...cause it's the only cold thing they got.
All in all, it was a lovely trip...but when I got home, I drank a giant glass of water, straight from the tap...and then went to sleep in my own bed with the windows all the way open so that I could enjoy the cool of an NYC Autumn.
Jay Reatard doing his Devo meets Question Mark and the Mysterians thing. Not bad, but there are songs of his I prefer to this.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
And The Cradle Will Rock - Van Halen - Women and Children First - 1980
Ok, so I mentioned the wait in line for the ID in order to drink...but I didn't even get to the biggest indignity of the day. The beer pens.
So, after you waited your 45 minutes for a beer...you had to stay in an enclosed area about 25 feet by 15 feet in the grass. You could not take your beer out to the show. You were also limited to 5 beers and they stopped serving at 830. To enforce this they had a ridiculous system...a purple x was drawn on your left hand in permanent marker. Then you were given a plastic wrist band with 5 plastic pull tabs. Each time you bought a drink a tab was pulled from the bracelet.
Basically, this sets off all of my alarm bells at once. First of all, there's the simple practical matter of having to sit in a confined pen to drink my beer, when I'm at an outdoor festival. Second of all, there is the moral principle of the thing. This is clearly designed to try to curb underage drinking...and nothing infuriates me more than things done for "the protection of the children". The world exists for adults...children should be toughened up for the world not protected from it, and adults should not be made to curtail their lives for the sake of the children. Beyond that, we are kidding ourselves if we think silly activities like this are actually going to curb underage drinking...and we are sucking all the fun out of childhood too. What the hell else are you supposed to do when you are 16 at an outdoor concert in August, you are going to sneak beer...that's what you do! And finally, kids these days don't even drink that much...they just steal the prescription drugs out of your medicine cabinets and snort them. The attitude that kids were pure and innocent and only corrupted by our society is one of the reasons I had to get the fuck out of the midwest...and to have it occur here in NYC (ok, Jersey, but barely) really infuriates me.
I'll give you a for instance of the kind thing that sets me off. I'm sitting in the beer pen drinking a couple beers and I bum one of Anand's cigarettes. Sitting next to us is a woman in her mid-late twenties reading a book. She immediately starts covering her nose and exaggerating a cough. Seriously! First of all, honey, go do your fucking homework somewhere besides the beer pen. Second of all, it's THE BEER PEN...it's bad enough I have to be locked in here drinking, you could at least not take up space READING. And third of all, when you are in the only place in the park where you can legally do anything even slightly unsavory...maybe you can cut me some slack on having a cigarette. Ugggghhhhh.
You know who'd really hate the beer pen policy? David Lee Roth, that's who. The Cradle Will Rock indeed, Diamond Dave. Rock on!
So, after you waited your 45 minutes for a beer...you had to stay in an enclosed area about 25 feet by 15 feet in the grass. You could not take your beer out to the show. You were also limited to 5 beers and they stopped serving at 830. To enforce this they had a ridiculous system...a purple x was drawn on your left hand in permanent marker. Then you were given a plastic wrist band with 5 plastic pull tabs. Each time you bought a drink a tab was pulled from the bracelet.
Basically, this sets off all of my alarm bells at once. First of all, there's the simple practical matter of having to sit in a confined pen to drink my beer, when I'm at an outdoor festival. Second of all, there is the moral principle of the thing. This is clearly designed to try to curb underage drinking...and nothing infuriates me more than things done for "the protection of the children". The world exists for adults...children should be toughened up for the world not protected from it, and adults should not be made to curtail their lives for the sake of the children. Beyond that, we are kidding ourselves if we think silly activities like this are actually going to curb underage drinking...and we are sucking all the fun out of childhood too. What the hell else are you supposed to do when you are 16 at an outdoor concert in August, you are going to sneak beer...that's what you do! And finally, kids these days don't even drink that much...they just steal the prescription drugs out of your medicine cabinets and snort them. The attitude that kids were pure and innocent and only corrupted by our society is one of the reasons I had to get the fuck out of the midwest...and to have it occur here in NYC (ok, Jersey, but barely) really infuriates me.
I'll give you a for instance of the kind thing that sets me off. I'm sitting in the beer pen drinking a couple beers and I bum one of Anand's cigarettes. Sitting next to us is a woman in her mid-late twenties reading a book. She immediately starts covering her nose and exaggerating a cough. Seriously! First of all, honey, go do your fucking homework somewhere besides the beer pen. Second of all, it's THE BEER PEN...it's bad enough I have to be locked in here drinking, you could at least not take up space READING. And third of all, when you are in the only place in the park where you can legally do anything even slightly unsavory...maybe you can cut me some slack on having a cigarette. Ugggghhhhh.
You know who'd really hate the beer pen policy? David Lee Roth, that's who. The Cradle Will Rock indeed, Diamond Dave. Rock on!
Monday, August 11, 2008
And Someone With Strengths - Wheat - Hope and Adams - 1999
So I went to the Saturday show of All Points West at Liberty State Park this past weekend to see my boys Radiohead play. This is the first of many posts, I'll probably spend ranting/raving about this show...but let's start with my biggest statement...which I'd like to state, has nothing to do with the performance of the bands....Jesus Christ did that fucking suck!
Okay, so my buddy Anand and I met up in the early afternoon to do a little pre-gaming and then head out towards Jersey. We had bought our $25 ferry tickets in advance, so we assumed the wait wouldn't be that bad...but when half the city of NYC wants to get out to a little park in Jersey...you are going to wait for a ferry. So first line I waited in, 1 hour.
Then you get to Jersey and you gotta walk a pretty good distance to get to the concert area...where security thoroughly pats you down. And when I say "security" I mean whatever Jersey crackheads they could find willing to pat you down and yell at you if they find anything...of course there were very authoritative looking state troopers around to enforce the decisions of the power mad crackheads. Second line I waited in 1.5 hours.
THEN you had to wait in line to get your ID bracelet to buy booze. Time spent waiting in this line 45 minutes.
Time spent waiting in lines for port-a-potties 1 hour.
Then of course, the line to get back ON the ferries to go home at the end of the night 1 hour, 15 minutes.
So time spent waiting in lines on Saturday: 5.5 hours. Time spent seeing my favorite band...about 2 hours. Something of a trade off I must say.
Wheat are kind of an Irish Wilco, depending on what way that sways your opinion, judge this song accordingly.
Okay, so my buddy Anand and I met up in the early afternoon to do a little pre-gaming and then head out towards Jersey. We had bought our $25 ferry tickets in advance, so we assumed the wait wouldn't be that bad...but when half the city of NYC wants to get out to a little park in Jersey...you are going to wait for a ferry. So first line I waited in, 1 hour.
Then you get to Jersey and you gotta walk a pretty good distance to get to the concert area...where security thoroughly pats you down. And when I say "security" I mean whatever Jersey crackheads they could find willing to pat you down and yell at you if they find anything...of course there were very authoritative looking state troopers around to enforce the decisions of the power mad crackheads. Second line I waited in 1.5 hours.
THEN you had to wait in line to get your ID bracelet to buy booze. Time spent waiting in this line 45 minutes.
Time spent waiting in lines for port-a-potties 1 hour.
Then of course, the line to get back ON the ferries to go home at the end of the night 1 hour, 15 minutes.
So time spent waiting in lines on Saturday: 5.5 hours. Time spent seeing my favorite band...about 2 hours. Something of a trade off I must say.
Wheat are kind of an Irish Wilco, depending on what way that sways your opinion, judge this song accordingly.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
The Amazing Dolphin Boy - The Minus 5 - Let The War On Music Begin - 2001
I will admit that I often have problems enjoying songs that I find stupid....perhaps it's the best melody in the world...maybe it's wonderfully produced. But this song is called "The Amazing Dolphin Boy"...I'm sorry, that shit don't fly.
And speaking of stupidity...I went down to the Post Office the other day to mail some bills and realized that all of the stamp machines were shut down. I inquired with one of the tellers about why this was and she told me that the Post Office has decided to discontinue these.
Ok...I know the thinking here...Email and Online Bill Pay has decimated the PO. People (and businesses) know they can get better shipping through private carriers. And even Netflix, which has almost single handedly propped the business up for years have started to switch to streaming. The Post Office is fucked. So rather than risk laying off government employees, they've decided to discontinue the automation of their jobs. If this is not backwards thinking, I don't know what the hell is.
So rather than assist their customers, they've made me even less likely to use their services, by making it less convenient for me...gotta love the Bush Administration...bigger government at all cost!
And speaking of stupidity...I went down to the Post Office the other day to mail some bills and realized that all of the stamp machines were shut down. I inquired with one of the tellers about why this was and she told me that the Post Office has decided to discontinue these.
Ok...I know the thinking here...Email and Online Bill Pay has decimated the PO. People (and businesses) know they can get better shipping through private carriers. And even Netflix, which has almost single handedly propped the business up for years have started to switch to streaming. The Post Office is fucked. So rather than risk laying off government employees, they've decided to discontinue the automation of their jobs. If this is not backwards thinking, I don't know what the hell is.
So rather than assist their customers, they've made me even less likely to use their services, by making it less convenient for me...gotta love the Bush Administration...bigger government at all cost!
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Along The Way - Bob Mould - The Last Dog and Pony Show - 1998
Sonically, this sounds like a left over from Mould's generally fantastic Workbook...but lyrically...Jesus Bob, rock's a lot more gay friendly now than it was in the mid-80's. We don't really need the preachy anthem about lack of understanding. I liked it better when your delimas were oblique and menacing rather than pointedly on the nose.
Monday, June 9, 2008
All Those Expectations - Peter, Bjorn, and John - Falling Out - 2005
Speaking of expectations...I nearly wrote this blog post last night, in which case you would have gotten a lengthy screed involving me giving a viking blood eagle to the children of the head of the MTA. I would have summoned dark gods to devour his soul and the furies to chase him through all eternity, but my lady friend came over and calmed me down. Now I'll settle for forcing him to watch endless episodes of Mama's Family and eating nothing but brussel sprouts and matza.
Anyway, after a single drink (no really, just one) with my co-workers I headed to the Q train...at 742 on a Monday evening...hardly late...the sun was still out for christ sake! I waited on the platform for a Q train for 45 minutes, before I finally went and berated the poor attendant in the booth. She called Dekalb Station, who told her to call City Hall, who then sent her back to Dekalb Station. Apparently, no one had any clue where the Q trains were. She then informed me that the heat was causing mechanical problems on several lines.
Two things:
A - How the fuck do you lose an entire train line? The Q isn't even that long, sure it goes out to Brighton Beach, but it stops at 57th St...where did all those trains go on a Monday evening?
B - HEAT!!!!????!!?!?!?!?!? That's your fucking excuse!?! Heat? Really? Word? That's what you got? 102 years of MTA service and you fucktards haven't figured out how to make your shit work on a hot day?
Honestly, despite my grumpy demeanor, I'm a pretty laid back guy, BUT, and this is a Michael Moore sized but, nothing infuriates me more than the incompetence of the MTA. The steal my life, a little bit at a time...and I can be as angry as I want to be about it and it will not affect them in the slightest. The fact that I eventually stormed out and took a cab in no way impacted the MTA...they can continue to be awful with no regard to their customers. Makes me go batshit feral.
Anyway, this PB&J being mellow, which I like far less than PB&J when they rock.
Anyway, after a single drink (no really, just one) with my co-workers I headed to the Q train...at 742 on a Monday evening...hardly late...the sun was still out for christ sake! I waited on the platform for a Q train for 45 minutes, before I finally went and berated the poor attendant in the booth. She called Dekalb Station, who told her to call City Hall, who then sent her back to Dekalb Station. Apparently, no one had any clue where the Q trains were. She then informed me that the heat was causing mechanical problems on several lines.
Two things:
A - How the fuck do you lose an entire train line? The Q isn't even that long, sure it goes out to Brighton Beach, but it stops at 57th St...where did all those trains go on a Monday evening?
B - HEAT!!!!????!!?!?!?!?!? That's your fucking excuse!?! Heat? Really? Word? That's what you got? 102 years of MTA service and you fucktards haven't figured out how to make your shit work on a hot day?
Honestly, despite my grumpy demeanor, I'm a pretty laid back guy, BUT, and this is a Michael Moore sized but, nothing infuriates me more than the incompetence of the MTA. The steal my life, a little bit at a time...and I can be as angry as I want to be about it and it will not affect them in the slightest. The fact that I eventually stormed out and took a cab in no way impacted the MTA...they can continue to be awful with no regard to their customers. Makes me go batshit feral.
Anyway, this PB&J being mellow, which I like far less than PB&J when they rock.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
All The Young Dudes - Mott The Hoople - All The Young Dudes - 1972
I have little patience with Boomer nostalgia (unless we're talking about the former Cincinnati Bengels Quarterback, but that's another story). I've spent my entire life being beaten over the head with the fact that nothing I ever do will be as revolutionary as what they did in the 60's, no movement in film will be as groundbreaking as the French New Wave and their American acolytes in the 1970's, and no music will ever be as revelatory as The Beatles, Stones, etc (and I like both the Beatles and the Stones)...
Given that fact I have some trepidation claiming anything is "The Greatest xxx Ever!"...but I must say that this Bowie penned gem does contain one of the best opening lines ever with "Well, Billy rapped all night about his suicide/how he'd kick it in the head when he's 25" With it's mournful guitar intro and Ian Hunter's too-many-cigarettes vocals it immediately grabs your attention. Its pitch perfect harmonies keep the vibe going, and like with so many things with Bowie, the lyrics seem to prescient, prefiguring the resentment later generations would have with Boomers and their "Revolution Stuff".
Honestly just a great song.
And on final word on Boomer nostalgia...Hilary can bite me!
Given that fact I have some trepidation claiming anything is "The Greatest xxx Ever!"...but I must say that this Bowie penned gem does contain one of the best opening lines ever with "Well, Billy rapped all night about his suicide/how he'd kick it in the head when he's 25" With it's mournful guitar intro and Ian Hunter's too-many-cigarettes vocals it immediately grabs your attention. Its pitch perfect harmonies keep the vibe going, and like with so many things with Bowie, the lyrics seem to prescient, prefiguring the resentment later generations would have with Boomers and their "Revolution Stuff".
Honestly just a great song.
And on final word on Boomer nostalgia...Hilary can bite me!
All The Wine - The National - Alligator - 2005
Okay, so Facebook exists for only one purpose...so that I can sit at work and look at pictures of hot chicks but claim that I am not viewing porn if asked. That is why it is extremely annoying when I see an attractive woman in one of my friends' pictures and click on her name only to find out that she has set her profile to private.
Ladies if you are uncomfortable with the notion of your pictures being used by a thirty something guy as mildly sexual entertainment, then please get off the internet. If life has taught you nothing else, it should have taught you by now that the internet is a vehicle to bring pornography to the masses. Lead, follow, or get out of the way.
Like most of the songs on Alligator, this one seems like a warm up for a better version that would appear on Boxer.
Ladies if you are uncomfortable with the notion of your pictures being used by a thirty something guy as mildly sexual entertainment, then please get off the internet. If life has taught you nothing else, it should have taught you by now that the internet is a vehicle to bring pornography to the masses. Lead, follow, or get out of the way.
Like most of the songs on Alligator, this one seems like a warm up for a better version that would appear on Boxer.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
All The Negatives Have Been Destroyed - Spoon - Telephono - 1996
So this new ice cream place opened up on my block this weekend. Okay, you're thinking...ice cream memorial day weekend, nice weather, ice cream...what could be better? But the issue is a touch more complicated than all that. My once predominately west indian block is facing the ever present Brooklynite threat of "Gentrification"...and to make matters worse, the ice cream shop was marketed explicitly to children, including providing a "play space" for children in the back room. All day long on Saturday (literally all day long...) there were lines of strollers coming out the store.
For those that haven't followed such items as this:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/18/fashion/18slope.html?ex=1368676800&en=2d86b649d544b327&ei=5124&partner=facebook&exprod=facebook
...the stroller is something of a symbol for everything a certain contingent of us do not want to see Brooklyn become. So seeing this line of strollers, all day long, ignoring the countless chicken wing-bones and broken glass on the sidewalk...just to access a glorified McDonald land park did not sit well with me.
I do have to say though...the ice cream was pretty decent.
Anyway, this is from Spoon's first album, before they had really figured out their own identity and were still trying to be a Texan Pixies clone. This is one of the better songs off of Telephono though.
For those that haven't followed such items as this:
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/05/18/fashion/18slope.html?ex=1368676800&en=2d86b649d544b327&ei=5124&partner=facebook&exprod=facebook
...the stroller is something of a symbol for everything a certain contingent of us do not want to see Brooklyn become. So seeing this line of strollers, all day long, ignoring the countless chicken wing-bones and broken glass on the sidewalk...just to access a glorified McDonald land park did not sit well with me.
I do have to say though...the ice cream was pretty decent.
Anyway, this is from Spoon's first album, before they had really figured out their own identity and were still trying to be a Texan Pixies clone. This is one of the better songs off of Telephono though.
Monday, May 19, 2008
All Over The Shop - Maximo Shop - A Certain Trigger - 2005
So my company was recently acquired by a larger company. Part of the reason the company decided to purchase us was due to the fact that we have a large half empty office in lower Manhattan. So now they are starting to move in, bit by bit, into our vacant spaces. Needless to say, this has not proceeded without incident. First of all, they have put up a giant poster of Prince...no disrespect intended, but I don't want a giant Prince watching me all day. Second of all, they have blasted the new Madonna album TWICE today. Thank god I wear headphones.
Anyway, this is Maximo Park doing their poppy variation of Gang of Four. Not my favorite song on this album, but solid enough.
Anyway, this is Maximo Park doing their poppy variation of Gang of Four. Not my favorite song on this album, but solid enough.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
All Neon Like - Bjork - Homogenic - 1997
How many fucking Bjork songs start with "A"? Did she have a theme? And what the hell does it mean to "halo all over you". That just sounds wrong.
So, I was all excited cause they opened a new wine bar in my previously sketchy neighborhood. I had my ladyfriend meet me there last night for a glass or two. We sit down and wait a bit for the waiter, but sure it's a new place, been open less than 2 weeks, they probably don't have the service down. Fine. Finally the dude brings us our menus, I peruse mine and realize that it only lists food. So I go ask the bar tender for the wine list. He informs me that they don't get their liquor license until the 28th...when they will have their grand opening. First of all, you appear to be open, second of all why in the world would you open a wine bar before you could serve wine? What the hell is wrong with people?
So, I was all excited cause they opened a new wine bar in my previously sketchy neighborhood. I had my ladyfriend meet me there last night for a glass or two. We sit down and wait a bit for the waiter, but sure it's a new place, been open less than 2 weeks, they probably don't have the service down. Fine. Finally the dude brings us our menus, I peruse mine and realize that it only lists food. So I go ask the bar tender for the wine list. He informs me that they don't get their liquor license until the 28th...when they will have their grand opening. First of all, you appear to be open, second of all why in the world would you open a wine bar before you could serve wine? What the hell is wrong with people?
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
All Mod Cons - The Jam - All Mod Cons - 1978
I was riding the LIRR back from Shea Stadium on Sunday when I encountered one of my biggest frustrations with the city of NYC. So, my ladyfriend and I had just missed the train to Penn Station and had to wait 20 minutes to for the next one...not the end of the world. We stood our time on the platform and talked. The platform gradually filled up.
As the train pulled into the station, a trio of old women were standing next to us waiting as well. Like a good midwestern boy, I let them on the train first. There were two open benches at the the end of the car, a 3 person seater and a two person seater. Perfect, the women could take the three person seat and me and the lady could take the two person seat...No! Of course not, the old women proceed to sit 2 on the big bench and 1 on the little.
This is what infuriates me, one basic act of community minded courtesy is repaid with total selfishness. I had this string of thoughts quite a bit when I lived in Greenpoint (The closest that I think I come to out and out racism is the total scorched-earth hatred I have for the community of Greenpoint). Old women know that, due to the social contract I will not act aggressively towards them...like say, throwing them on the subway track. Basic decency and the fact that no court in the land (both legal and of public opinion) would acquit me for acting in such a manner ensure that I will be gracious. But seriously, if my generosity will be constantly repaid be utter thoughtless self-centeredness, then what's the point in not simply shoving Hazel into the path of an onrushing train and decreasing the surplus population?
Anyway, this is a minute and a half of the Jam doing there thing. Much like the Beatles, I find some of the Jam's rock n' roll credibility shot by their clear reliance on British Barrell Hall music. Underneath the purpulsive drumming, crunching guitars, and social message they still feel the need to do that pansy harmonzing (and I like harmony) at the end of the song. Why not just cover When I'm 64?
As the train pulled into the station, a trio of old women were standing next to us waiting as well. Like a good midwestern boy, I let them on the train first. There were two open benches at the the end of the car, a 3 person seater and a two person seater. Perfect, the women could take the three person seat and me and the lady could take the two person seat...No! Of course not, the old women proceed to sit 2 on the big bench and 1 on the little.
This is what infuriates me, one basic act of community minded courtesy is repaid with total selfishness. I had this string of thoughts quite a bit when I lived in Greenpoint (The closest that I think I come to out and out racism is the total scorched-earth hatred I have for the community of Greenpoint). Old women know that, due to the social contract I will not act aggressively towards them...like say, throwing them on the subway track. Basic decency and the fact that no court in the land (both legal and of public opinion) would acquit me for acting in such a manner ensure that I will be gracious. But seriously, if my generosity will be constantly repaid be utter thoughtless self-centeredness, then what's the point in not simply shoving Hazel into the path of an onrushing train and decreasing the surplus population?
Anyway, this is a minute and a half of the Jam doing there thing. Much like the Beatles, I find some of the Jam's rock n' roll credibility shot by their clear reliance on British Barrell Hall music. Underneath the purpulsive drumming, crunching guitars, and social message they still feel the need to do that pansy harmonzing (and I like harmony) at the end of the song. Why not just cover When I'm 64?
Monday, March 24, 2008
Acid Food - Mogwai - Mr. Beast - 2006
So, I had been talking up Enid's in Greenpoint as the best brunch in the city to a newer friend of mine. I lived in Greenpoint from 2003-2005 and made Enid's a regular weekend trip. Despite generally regarding my time in the Point as "hellish", I would never have said a bad word about the breakfast. Plus as a Midwesterner, I am always happy to find a place that makes biscuits and gravy. Except this is now the second time in a row I've been there and they've run out of biscuits. Seriously, dipshits...it's Easter Sunday...did it not occur to you that you might have a run on biscuits? Make more than you think you need.
In addition to that our waitress was awful and I had only slept an hour and a half on saturday night, so I was not in a good place to be messed with. She could have at least brought us our bloody marys (Which sat on the bar for a solid ten minutes) over when she came to tell us there were no more biscuits. I threw a small temper tantrum. It was not my proudest moment.
Anyway, I certainly could have used this song to cool me down. This is one of Mogwai's new "Hey, we'll try out this whole singing thing" songs. The song is so laid back it sounds like someone gave The Beta Band Quaalude's and told them to wash it down with some NyQuil. Lovely pedal steel part though. I need a nap.
In addition to that our waitress was awful and I had only slept an hour and a half on saturday night, so I was not in a good place to be messed with. She could have at least brought us our bloody marys (Which sat on the bar for a solid ten minutes) over when she came to tell us there were no more biscuits. I threw a small temper tantrum. It was not my proudest moment.
Anyway, I certainly could have used this song to cool me down. This is one of Mogwai's new "Hey, we'll try out this whole singing thing" songs. The song is so laid back it sounds like someone gave The Beta Band Quaalude's and told them to wash it down with some NyQuil. Lovely pedal steel part though. I need a nap.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Above You - Whitest Boy Alive - Dreams - 2006
I've always said that when I finally lose my grip, and go apeshit, it will not be at my job, with my friends, or in a Russian bathhouse...it will be on the subway. The subway, is in many ways, a capricious lover...it is my morning commute and my night time designated driver...but it also fills me with rage. Today's example: The fight over a seat. I generally stand on the subway, I don't see the need to fight over a little piece of bench, just so I can sit down. Particularly, since I'm on my way to a job where I'm going to sit for 8 freaking hours anyway. But invariably there is always someone...and at the risk of inciting feminine wrath, this someone is almost always a middle aged woman...who will happily squeeze into a tiny sliver of open bench, causing everyone else in the aisle to be scrunched and uncomfortable. Seriously, people...I'm the first one to give up my seat to the elderly, infirm and pregnant..but if your fifty year old fat ass can't handle standing up for 20 minutes before you sit all day behind that HR Generalist's desk...maybe NYC is not the place for you.
Anyway...I downloaded this cause it's one of the dudes from The Kings of Convenience...in theory it was supposed to be his rocky side project, but really it just seems to be the same stuff only plugged in. Quiet is the New Loud is really all you need from these guys.
Anyway...I downloaded this cause it's one of the dudes from The Kings of Convenience...in theory it was supposed to be his rocky side project, but really it just seems to be the same stuff only plugged in. Quiet is the New Loud is really all you need from these guys.
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