tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81212912024-03-13T12:10:52.755-04:00Tuwa's Shanty and The Roots Canal Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.comBlogger347125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-67804637848824506522008-01-01T21:00:00.000-05:002008-01-02T02:13:48.231-05:00The Roots Canal: Honeydripper (the movie)I just thought I'd bring this blog back to life momentarily by suggesting that everyone go out and see John Sayles' new <a href="http://honeydripper-movie.com/">movie</a>, <span style="font-style:italic;">Honeydripper</span>, about the evolution of blues into R&B and rock'n'roll -- not just because it's a fantastic movie but because it's a historic one for anyone who cares about the forgotten roots of American popular music. I saw it this afternoon in New York, where it's currently in limited distribution (along with Los Angeles), but it's due for a rolling national release in January and February. (Tuwa, it's opening at the Hippodrome in Gainesville on February 22nd.) Here's the trailer:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="355"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/lsyEx3JdQLk&rel=1"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/lsyEx3JdQLk&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />The film is set in rural Alabama in 1950, right in the middle of that incredibly fertile period when jazzmen, bluesmen and other musical pioneers created an exciting new kind of music that went on to sweep the world. Danny Glover gives the performance of his career as a fading bluesman who now runs a juke joint and is watching his music get passed by, as young people flock to the newfangled juke box in the joint next door. To make a long story short, he saves his bar by hiring a young guitarist played by 22-year-old <a href="http://www.garyclarkjr.com/indexfasttest.html">Gary Clark Jr.</a>, who knocks everyone's socks off by playing -- what else? -- <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Good Rockin' Tonight</span>. <br /><br />Keb Mo plays a mysterious street musician whose character has a surprise twist at the end. Charles Dutton, Stacy Keach, Mary Steenburgen and a bunch of other actors I wasn't familiar with were uniformly outstanding. Ruth Brown was supposed to play an aging blues singer, but when she became too ill to perform she suggested her friend Mable John (a former Raelette!) to cover her role. (Brown actually died on the last day of filming.) The musicians were great, of course; in fact, they played a few gigs last year as the Honeydripper All-Star Band. (The soundtrack will be released February 5th on Rhino Records.) There's also an important part played by the coolest handmade guitar you've ever seen; if you're interested in that sort of thing, here's an <a href="http://www.modernguitars.com/archives/004102.html">interview</a> with the guy who made it.<br /><br />Now I suppose I shouldn't quibble, but I don't fully agree with Sayles' interpretation of music history. R&B and rock'n'roll didn't grow out of rural blues, but from the jazzy urban jump blues that became popular in the 1940s as jazz musicians started playing in small combos like Louis Jordan's Tympany Five. In this otherwise terrific <a href="http://www.modernguitars.com/archives/004057.html">interview</a> with Sayles, the writer quotes him as saying: <blockquote>“There was no single moment when R&B, blues, gospel, jazz, and country all came together to create this thing called rock ‘n roll, but a big change came with the advent of the electric guitar."</blockquote> Actually, the dominant instrument in early R&B and rock'n'roll was the saxophone, particularly the honking-and-screaming style pioneered by Illinois Jacquet in the early '40s. You put that together with the boogie-woogie piano that became popular in the late '30s; the Texas-style blues guitar of people like T-Bone Walker and Goree Carter (and later Chuck Berry); and some great blues shouters like Big Joe Turner and you had rhythm and blues. All it needed was for Wynonie Harris to add a gospel-inspired back beat to Roy Brown's <span style="font-style:italic;">Good Rockin' Tonight</span> in 1947 to ignite the rock'n'roll revolution. That really was the "single moment" when it all came together.<br /><br />This isn't my theory; it's all laid out in Morgan Wright's <a href="http://www.hoyhoy.com/">Hoy Hoy</a> website which first turned me on to this music and inspired my earlier post on <span style="font-style:italic;">Good Rockin' Tonight</span>. Just for new readers, I've made those <a href="http://tuwa.blogspot.com/2006/03/roots-canal-guest-blog-how-rock-really.html">songs</a> available again. Listen to Roy Brown's remake (which he called <span style="font-style:italic;">Rockin' at Midnight</span>) and then Elvis's version, and you'll understand why some people think Elvis was nothing but a second-rate Roy Brown impersonator!<br /><br />Okay, I can't quit without posting a couple of songs for y'all. Gary Clark Jr.'s performance in <span style="font-style:italic;">Honeydripper</span> reminded me a lot of Goree Carter. If you ever wonder where Chuck Berry got his guitar style, listen to this 1949 performance and wonder no more:<br /><a href="http://homepage.mac.com/rosswords/.Music/Rock%20Awhile.mp3"><span class="up">Goree Carter and His Hepcats -- Rock Awhile</span></a><br /><br />Here's one more. John Sayles is credited with co-writing three of the songs in the movie. (Does this guy ever run out of talent?) One was called <span style="font-style:italic;">China Doll</span>, after a character in the movie. Another was one of the movie's big gospel numbers. The third played over the closing credits and seems to express Sayles' musical philosophy: <span style="font-style:italic;">The Music Keeps Rolling On</span>. It's performed by Barrence Whitfield, who I'd never heard of before but here's an apropos song of his since I saw <span style="font-style:italic;">Honeydripper</span> on New Year's Day:<br /><a href="http://homepage.mac.com/rosswords/.Music/The%20New%20Year%20Blues.mp3"><span class="up">Mercy Brothers -- The New Year Blues</span></a><br /><br />Here's something else that's pretty interesting. The filmmakers created a station on Pandora called <a href="http://www.pandora.com/?ext_lsfi=211287136588911956">Honeydripper Radio</a> of music inspired by the movie.<br /><br />And if you want to know more about the movie's title, check out my earlier post on the original Honeydripper, <a href="http://tuwa.blogspot.com/2006/09/roots-canal-joe-liggins-honeydrippers.html">Joe Liggins</a>. I've made those songs available again, too.<br /><br />Finally, here are some youtubes of Mable John and Gary Clark Jr. performing with the Honeydripper All-Star Band in New York last summer:<br /><br /><object width="425" height="353"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/oJHvXL6au6U&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/oJHvXL6au6U&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="353"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="425" height="353"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/HVHr6RalZwc&rel=1"></param><param name="wmode" value="transparent"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/HVHr6RalZwc&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="353"></embed></object>Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-49832655314790346032007-08-25T23:37:00.001-04:002007-08-25T23:37:56.625-04:00on hiatus indefinitely.Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-44671888405083671642007-07-22T11:29:00.000-04:002007-08-04T17:19:39.916-04:00the hands of a government man<span class="down">Talking Heads -- Born Under Punches (live in Rome, 1980)</span><br />On the cusp of <cite>Remain in Light</cite>, before <cite>Speaking in Tongues</cite>, Talking Heads explored moody funk: dark, brooding, and danceable, as evidenced by <a href="http://www.metafilter.com/63128/Talking-Heads-Rome-1980">this Metafilter post</a> about a concert in Rome in 1980 with Adrian Belew (formerly of Frank Zappa and David Bowie, soon to be of King Crimson).<br /><br />Belew's work here hints at an influence on Byrne's guitar work which showed up as early as <cite>Stop Making Sense</cite> but, more importantly, the songs stand on their own merits: featuring a meaty slapping bass, ethereal laments, wailing feedback.<br /><br />The lyrics are elliptical, as any Talking Heads fan could tell you: perhaps they're about shallow consumption; perhaps they're about drug use; perhaps they're a paranoiac nightmare of an encroaching surveillance state. If they are, does it undercut the exuberance that the performance is at least partly planned, calculated to be worth recording? (And what does it mean that it was recorded and passed around in increasingly inferior versions--from broadcast TV to videotape to glitchy upload on Youtube to glitchy lossy mp3? Byrne could write something clever and pointed about it; for my part I'll just hope the concert gets a professional DVD release.)<br /><br /><small>Other highlights on that concert: "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOiDdXwdLH8">Drugs</a>," "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6g8lFmsCXhg">Crosseyed and Painless</a>," "<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2KQjy02eqOk">The Great Curve</a>."</small>Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-87472619748820115012007-07-11T09:35:00.000-04:002007-07-11T10:12:38.616-04:00children and cartwheels and chandeliers<a href="http://www.infosclerosis.com/shanty/02 Who's My Pretty Baby.mp3"><span class="up">Elizabeth Mitchell -- Who's My Pretty Baby</span></a><br />At ten years old, there was nowhere Elizabeth Mitchell would go that couldn't be gone there by cartwheels or somersaults. At ten and a half she learned how to walk on her hands and was sure that her feet would never touch the ground again. She insisted that her parents lower the counters throughout the house. They refused, so she insisted they buy her stilts. Her parents did not want to take down the chandeliers or to clean footprints from the ceiling, and it seemed sure the situation was headed towards a crisis. Luckily, Elizabeth's uncle was clever enough to buy her a guitar for her birthday. It was a challenge for Elizabeth to play A maj with her feet, but G maj was impossible. B7 was whatever was a step beyond impossible. Elizabeth decided she could sit "like normal," provided no one saw her; and that her feet could touch the ground as she sat, provided she washed them afterwards.<br /><br />Each day her parents would make excuses to pass her door and overhear her practicing, and each day when she was done she'd put the guitar away and walk on her hands to the kitchen to find a snack. And each day her mother would say "don't ruin your appetite for dinner, honey," and each day Elizabeth would say "yes ma'am."<br /><br />And then one day her parents heard her practice stop and the door open, and Elizabeth came walking down the hall but not to the kitchen, and on her feet, not on her hands. She was carrying her guitar and she walked into the living room where her astonished parents sat, and she stood there in front of them and said "Mom. Dad. Listen to this." And then she played something which sounded like all the joy and energy of an eleven-year-old channelled into music.<br /><br /><small><cite>You Are My Little Bird</cite> is an album for children. Jordan @ Said the Gramophone <a href="http://www.saidthegramophone.com/archives/august_mobius_and_max_pla.php"> posted "Three Little Birds" in March</a>, and then Folkways sent me the CD as part of a package of promo materials. I do like it, but am sure that my niece would like it even more.</small><br />[<a href="http://www.folkways.si.edu/search/AlbumDetails.aspx?ID=3130">Elizabeth Mitchell @ Folkways</a>; various reviews <a href="http://www.rykodistribution.com/artist_detail.php?artist_id=11794&show=review">@ Ryko Distribution</a>]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-87186842137787687412007-07-06T00:18:00.001-04:002007-07-29T02:42:34.368-04:009Seven for IV 121 -- Before Finish<span class="down">9Seven for IV 121 -- Before Finish</span><br />Receiving a transmission, captain.<br />--Onscreen.<br />[Onscreen: a trio of Japanese travelers in a steampunk spaceship, stars and planets floating distant in the viewport behind them, contextless and serene. They begin to speak. Their words, constellations of sounds, also float: unmoored, drifting, supremely calming. They are not cosmonauts but monogatarinauts.]<br />--Ensign, decode.<br />The computer can not understand it fully, captain. ... CRM 114 ... C57D ... 1701 ... Baratu.<br />[The transmission ends. Captain raises his eyebrows.]<br />I will attempt to reestablish contact.... No response, sir. Records indicate the transmission arrived from Audiogalaxy.<br />--I wish to know more, ensign.<br />I'm sorry, Captain, there is no further information.<br />--Then let us hear it again.<br /><br /><small>[Anyone know anything about this band? Please post it in the comments.]</small>Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-6768078036521702272007-06-29T01:11:00.000-04:002007-07-29T02:43:12.887-04:00Hum Dum Dinger<span class="down">Jimmie Davis -- She's a Hum Dum Dinger From Dingersville</span><br />What kind of slide does Jimmie Davis use? It's not a <a href="http://www.asiandubfoundation.com/">knife on electric guitar, aggressive, thick, chunky, distorted</a>. It's not a <a href="http://www.fatpossum.com/artists/cedell.html">knife on electric guitar, gruff and impetuous, with a sense of timing all its own, dropping flats and sharps in where it pleases</a>. It's not a dobro, not a lap steel, not a <a href="http://www.yazoorecords.com/2055.htm">sonic papaya smoothie</a>. It's not medicine bottle on nylon; it doesn't sound like Valium on dreamscape lullaby.<br /><br />No, it's got a slight bite to it and it's played with finesse. It's a sweet and durable melody, even if the lyrics (like Davis' politics) haven't aged well.<br />[Available on a number of albums, including <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/Various-Artists-Shanachie-Records-Yazoo-The-Voice-Of-The-Blues-Bottleneck-Guitar-Masterpi-MP3-Download/10586996.html"><cite>The Voice Of The Blues: Bottleneck Guitar Masterpieces</cite></a> and <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/Various-Artists-Shanachie-Records-Yazoo-The-Roots-Of-Rap-MP3-Download/10586960.html"><cite>The Roots of Rap</cite></a>.]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-13322004185800823342007-06-13T11:27:00.000-04:002007-06-13T16:53:12.654-04:00of mountains and monasteries and music<a href="http://www.infosclerosis.com/shanty/Jed and Lucia -- Off the Ground.mp3"><span class="up">Jed and Lucia -- Off the Ground</span></a><br />Jed played guitar in a band. On the weekends when they weren't booked and weren't practicing, he would drive his car out of the city to climb mountains. His favorite was Mt. San Isidro, a moderately tall and moderately difficult mountain which he would nevertheless climb solo. In the early afternoon one day as he reached the summit, he found there a building that had never been there before. It was a modest structure, made of wood and stone, and inside he found it attended by silent men with shaven heads. They let him wander about, unbothered, and when he lay down his pack and removed his coat and gloves they did not comment or even seem to notice. In one hall he found an empty room with a pallet on the floor and a low-cut rock for a pillow. He moved his belongings into it and had potato soup and a small cup of water for dinner. Over time he learned the customs of the place, beyond the overwhelming silence: where and when to bathe, how to help with custodial duties, what to cook and where to gather the ingredients. The ingredients were usually potatoes and dinner was usually potato soup. The soup was made from potatoes and water. Depending on the cook, it might be flavored with additional water.<br /><br />Jed came to enjoy the silence because it allowed him to reflect more on its absence: on what to say and when to say it, and what to play and when to play it. On his seventeenth day at the monastery he found himself unable to shake a stupid couplet from a song he'd last heard years ago and last enjoyed never. He had found his mantra, though he did not know it.<br /><br />Over and over it played: "won't you take me back to school / I need to learn the golden rule." The melody was facile, trite, the instrumentation facile, trite, the vocals soppy and ineffectual. The song itself was the very definition of rubbish, and in fact he could find nothing about it to recommend it. Nor could he stop thinking about it. He began to reflect on what this obsession might mean, on what melody might mean, on how rhythm could fit with melody to expand its meaning and leaven its sweetness.<br /><br />After six weeks of meditation he decided to share his discoveries. "Music reveals itself through study, showing truth not only about specific instances but also about governing principles in general."<br /><br />There was a silence, and he imagined this insight might be well received. It stretched on until he imagined it might not.<br /><br />The man to his right spoke. His voice was hoarse, and cracked midway: "Dammit, Jed, we are not Sufis. And this is not a talk show." This was followed by another silence.<br /><br />Then, from across the room: "He has not spoken for seventeen years."<br /><br />It was a stinging rebuke.<br /><br />That night he wondered if he could manage longer than six weeks of silence. He wondered if he wanted to. He missed his guitar; he missed creating.<br /><br />In the morning he pulled his pack from the corner, put on his boots and coat and gloves, and made his way from the monastery. Halfway down he slipped, caught himself, slipped again, began to tumble. He woke up, which was more than he'd expected just moments before. He was in a bright cloudiness with a burning pain in his chest: covered in snow. He dug himself out, gasped for breath, coughed up icy water. Once he realized he could breathe he realized also that he had twisted his ankle. He limped down the mountainside, making it to ground level just before dusk. He carried on until it was dark, then made camp and slept in his coat and snowboots. The pack felt too comfortable as a pillow; he emptied it and put a rock inside.<br /><br />In the morning his ankle was still swollen. He had decided on North as a direction and continued that way, concentrating on music, trying to tease out further revelations. He was bitten by a snake while within sight of the highway. On the highway itself he passed out, trying to work a bassline into that rattle he had processed as merely a fast tempo, a rhythm in search of a melody. A descending bassline could work, ascending could as well--eight to the bar? four to the bar? three to the bar? Simple repeating, repeating with variations, alternating patterns? The world was full of possibilities.<br /><br />...<br /><br />The desert was flat and Lucia was not yet hypnotized by interminable monotony; she slowed her car from well ahead and recognized the shape on the asphalt as human. She dialed 911 on her cell and approached the person with her finger on the call button. When she pressed it, it was to report a man delirious and feverish, leg swollen until the pants were tight around it.<br /><br />Jed was airlifted to the hospital, his leg cut open to relieve the pressure from the swelling, a chunk of calf removed due to necrosis.<br /><br />Lucia met him at the hospital as an excuse to miss a family reunion. She had not been on good terms with them since she had abandoned polyrhythm in favor of monorhythm: they were shocked about her behavior, worried for the future, unsure what to think but sure that somehow they had been deceived and betrayed.<br /><br />Jed and Lucia began to chat, as people do when in a room together. Over a course of months Jed had new skin grafted on followed by extensive rest and physical therapy to learn to walk again. It was tedious and painful but the food was good. They began to get to know each other. Jed had ideas for some melodies. Lucia had ideas for some rhythms. They decided to form a band.<br /><br />[Jed and Lucia probably have a Fanatic Promotion page, but I got the email about them so long ago that I lost the URL and Google isn't turning it up]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-77631235297685225112007-06-11T00:01:00.001-04:002007-06-12T20:00:18.857-04:00Roots Canal: Luther Kent<a href="http://homepage.mac.com/rosswords/.Music/Just%20a%20Little%20Bit.mp3"><span class="up">Luther Kent & Trick Bag - Just a Little Bit</span></a><br />Talo first introduced me to Luther Kent, who I wrote about in <a href="http://tuwa.blogspot.com/2006/04/roots-canal-guest-blog-luther-kent.html">one</a> of my earliest posts. In fact, Talo introduced me to New Orleans music. And New Orleans food. And New Orleans culture. And New Orleans itself. Talo grew up in Slidell, just across Lake Pontchartrain from the Big Easy. He was a friend of Lisa's from college, and later our tenant (until we took over our entire brownstone for our growing family and had to evict him -- but found him a similar situation with good friends around the corner). He always was an iconoclast, if not an eccentric. In school, he rode to class on a unicycle. Now he ties flies. Writes and draws travel journals from his trips to Scotland, New Zealand, Alaska. Smokes Cuban cigars and drinks single malt Scotch. But what would you expect from a five-foot-tall Japanese guy from Louisiana? He used to bring us New Orleans memorabilia after his trips home. One year, he brought us live crawfish. After that, we airfreighted 40 or 50 pounds of the things to Brooklyn every year for a Mardi Gras blowout. (You have to look in their eyes to figure out whether they're dead or alive, we learned.) Later, he brought us down to New Orleans for our first Jazzfest trip. And joined us again last year for our second, which I wrote about <a href="http://tuwa.blogspot.com/2006/05/roots-canal-jazzfest-wow.html">here</a>.<br /><br />Talo had to quit his advertising job a few months ago because he was spending so much time back home with his father, who had cancer. Talo was in town for a few days last week and was supposed to join our barbecue on Friday night, but his sister called that afternoon to tell him his father'd taken a turn for the worse. Weakened by chemotheraphy and other complications, he died that evening. Before Talo flew back to his father's deathbed, he brought us a CD of <a href="http://lutherkent.com/">Luther Kent</a> at this year's Jazzfest. Charles Brent, the musical director of Kent's band, Trick Bag, who used to arrange the giant horn section that gave the band a sound as big as Kent's voice, also died recently and is remembered in this song, <span style="font-style: italic;">Just a Little Bit</span>.<br /><br />Requiescat In Pace.<br /><br />[<a href="https://www.munckmusic.com/wms/jazzfest/index.html"><cite>Jazzfest Live</cite></a>]Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-33089654795246275632007-06-04T23:28:00.000-04:002007-07-11T10:11:43.128-04:00Peter Tosh -- Stop That Train<span class="down">Peter Tosh -- Stop That Train</span><br />Peter Tosh was murdered in his home by a robber who did not rob him. It's a curious thing, perhaps as curious as a dying hallucination of a lifetime unspooling until the most significant choices are again unchosen and alternate paths stretch out ahead.<br /><br />On one of those paths Tosh did not joing the Wailers, did not leave them, did not become a reggae icon in his own right. Instead he flew with just his acoustic guitar and the clothes on his back to the U.S., home of the radio stations he picked up at night through drifting clouds on a staticky patchy lo-fi signal which was still enough to leave him charmed and changed.<br /><br />And so he sat on town squares, park benches, and busy sidewalks playing his guitar, case open beside him until finally the right businessman passed by, passed by again, passed by a third time to listen and make requests. And then he was taken to cut a demo, just him and his guitar and his croonings; the demo was patchy, lo-fi, but still enough to leave people charmed and changed, and it earned him a band which, with a patient guiding hand and some careful production work could rival much of what Motown and Stax had to offer.<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Talking-Revolution-Peter-Tosh/dp/B000A7IK64/"><cite>Talking Revolution</cite></a> (caveat emptor: you'll have to be a diehard Tosh fan to enjoy all of this; you might do better with it <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/Peter-Tosh-Talking-Revolution-MP3-Download/10918494.html">a la carte @ emusic.com</a>.)]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-10110533114428396302007-06-04T08:41:00.000-04:002007-06-04T08:44:59.901-04:00sending up a flareRosswords, your email quit working.<br /><br />Everyone else: music post later today.Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-30691828898368759552007-06-01T12:16:00.000-04:002007-07-11T10:11:08.135-04:00Swedish pop and riot grrrls: in celebration of fun<span class="down">Komeda -- Binario</span><br /><span class="down">Le Tigre -- After Dark</span><br />Is it a hyperacute critical sense or a complete lack of critical sense that leads to judging everything harshly, to watching a brilliant film or listening to a complex and demanding album and thinking it mildly interesting? What changes to cause a reassessment, to allow a three-year-old album or an eight-year-old album to register as what it is rather than what it was seen as needing to be? And why is that, in all the characteristics a work of art can be judged by, fun is typically considered the least pressing or, by some dour critics, even something to be merely tolerated? Why honor this Puritanical streak insinuating that only the unpleasant has merit, that life is duty and nothing more? Wouldn't (couldn't) humanism serve as a useful antidote?<br /><br />A constellation of questions, all ones I don't know the answer to and put to myself more than to anyone else.<br /><br />Which is by way of saying I've only just discovered I very much like these two bands, and I'm sad that Le Tigre is on hiatus but I'm happy they've left behing some discs worth listening to. And there are more from Komeda to search out.<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/What-Makes-Go-Komeda/dp/B000006OQR/"><cite>What Makes it Go?</cite></a>]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/This-Island-Tigre/dp/B0002X9NWQ/"><cite>This Island</cite></a>]<br /><br />I don't know if anyone is still reading this site, especially given the sporadic nature of posts lately. I'd like to blame it on a new job and moving, but the truth is that I've become unsure of what I'm doing with the space or why. I remember having a clear purpose when I started (way back in the 13th century internet days of 2004)--to put together the kind of playlist I'd like to hear on the radio--and that still holds, but more and more I find I don't know how to write about the music I like the most. And so I find myself gravitating towards approaches which might not make any sense to anyone else, which leads back to fundamental questions about art and communication. I'm not ready to pretend solipsism.<br /><br />Readers, what do you want from this site? Why do you read it? Which posts did you like and which did you dislike?Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-31551845030492644362007-05-17T00:15:00.000-04:002007-07-06T00:28:13.671-04:00looking for logic in the chambers of the human heart<span class="down">Randy Hobbs -- Slowly But Surely</span><br /><span class="down">Roosevelt Sykes -- Yes Lawd</span><br /><span class="down">Funkadelic -- Maggot Brain [alt mix]</span><br />He was alone in the lobby of his hotel in Isla Mujeres, watching Hitchcock's <cite>La Ventana Indiscreta</cite> and misreading Jeffries' misgivings for disregard, zoning out looking through Lisa's face to the blue and red and green rectangles. Jorge banged on the glass by the door, smiling sleepily, holding his left crutch, his right crutch leaned against his side.</span><br /> "Jorge," he said. "¿Qué pasa?"<br /> "Nada, man."<br /> "¿Qué tal?"<br /> "Bien, ¿y tú?"<br /> "Bien bien." Jorge lifted himself in off the sidewalk. "What you doing?"<br /> "Nothing. Nothing. Just watching this movie."<br /> "Yeah?" He came around the TV to took a look. "Válgame Dios."<br /> "Yeah."<br /> "Yeah." Jorge turned and hopped backwards twice, then sat down and rested his crutches beside him.<br /> They sat there staring at the screen, red and green and blue rectangles brightening and fading away, brightening and fading away: in the commercials, in the break-in, in the theft, in the climax, in the credits.<br /> "Buena película," Jorge said, halfway through an infomercial.<br /> "Buenísima."<br /> "You flying, man?"<br /> "No, I don't smoke. You?"<br /> "I am ... so flying, man."<br /> "That's cool."<br /> "Shoooooo," Jorge said. "So flying."<br /> Flashes of light, electrons hitting the screen, red-blue-green.<br /> "Do you smoke?" Jorge said.<br /> "No, I don't smoke." <cite>I'm staring at a light source</cite>, Nick thought. <cite>It's furniture and it's a light source and people stare at it. And I do too.</cite> <br /> "No smoke?"<br /> "No, gracias."<br /> "So flying."<br /> "Hm...." The tick of the clock on the wall. Somewhere down the street, far off, someone telling Carlos he didn't know anything, ni una putísima cosa, coño. Cars coming by, <em>whoosh</em>.<br /> "Shoo," Jorge said.<br /> "Shoo-wee."<br /> "Buena onda, tú."<br /> "¿Sí?"<br /> "Sí. ¿No fumas?"<br /> "No, no fumo. Let's go."<br /> "Where? To where we go?"<br /> "I want a beer."<br /> "¿Cómo?"<br /> "Cerveza. Lager. Dos Equis. Vámanos."<br /> "Muy bien. <em>Buena</em> onda," he said, pushing himself off the sofa and grabbing his crutches. "¿Listo?"<br /> "Claro. Ko'ox."<br /> "Ko'ox," he said, laughing. "¡Vámonos!"<br /><br /><br /> "Buena película," Jorge said in the bar.<br /> "Muy buena." He knocked back the last of the beer and sat staring at the table: mahogany under a dark varnish, the reflection of the ceiling fan broken by the ring from the bottle, the bottle now cool and slick in his hand as he spun it around and stopped it, spun it again.<br /> "Buena película."<br /> The breeze wafted in from the beach carrying that unmistakable saltwater smell, waves pounding the surf, people chatting a few doors down, Jorge and Nick and the mesero alone in the bar.<br /> "Aren't you hungry?"<br /> "¿Cómo?"<br /> "¿No tienes hambre?"<br /> "Mucha hambre."<br /> "Well, order something then."<br /> "¿Cómo?"<br /> "¿No vas a pedir?"<br /> "¡Camarero!" Jorge said. The waiter came over to take their order. He was wearing stiff leather shoes with faded blue jeans and a tan guayabera. "Dos tamales," Jorge said, and something else Nick didn't catch. <cite>The guayabera never caught on stateside, did it?</cite> he thought. There was a couple outside, looking in, speaking softly in a Scottish accent. <cite>Of course, kilts didn't either.</cite><br /> "¿Algo más?" the waiter said.<br /> "Otra cerveza," Nick said.<br /> "Dos más," Jorge said.<br /> The waiter nodded and left. Nick spun the bottle, let it go, stopped it. Jorge contemplated the table. Nick looked out at the street. The couple had left.<br /> "What are we doing here?" he said.<br /> "Drinking."<br /> "No, in general."<br /> "¿Cómo?"<br /> "Por lo general."<br /> "Drinking."<br /> "No, la gente por lo general."<br /> "Eating, too. Sometimes eating."<br /> "No," Nick said.<br /> "Buena onda," Jorge said.<br /> "¿Qué hacemos aquí? ¿Cómo gente?"<br /> "Vinimos a beber."<br /> He sighed. A beer opened behind him, then another. The door in the counter opened, swung back and forth, came to a stop. The waiter set down a plate of chips, a dish of guacamole, and two more beers.<br />[<cite><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Midnite-Blues-Party-Various-Artists/dp/B000066ANB/">Midnite Blues Party</a></cite> @ amazon, and <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/10852/10852471.html">@ emusic</a>]<br />[<cite><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Honeydripper-Roosevelt-Sykes/dp/B000000XYX/">The Honeydripper</a></cite> @ amazon, or <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/Roosevelt-Sykes-The-Honeydripper-MP3-Download/10591624.html">@ emusic</a>]<br />[<cite><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Maggot-Brain-Funkadelic/dp/B000AXWV40/">Maggot Brain</a></cite> @ amazon, or <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/Funkadelic-Maggot-Brain-MP3-Download/10924700.html">@ emusic</a>]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-69605650777819778602007-05-10T11:57:00.000-04:002007-07-06T00:27:27.184-04:00Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra<span class="down">Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra -- Sí, Se Puede</span><br />Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra are a Brooklyn-based musical collective expanding the sound laid out by Fela Kuti, who originated the term Afrobeat and set its political tenor in the 1970s.<br /><br />Si alguien te dice que no se puede hacer algo, sólo dílo <<sí, se puede. Mientras vivo, mientras respiro, lo haré, lo hago, en hacerlo yo sigo.>><br /><br />I've seen this one listed as "si se puede." It is not. "Sí, se puede" means "Yes, it's possible" whereas "si se puede" means "if it's possible." Diacritics and punctuation are not optional in Spanish; aside from the años/anos trouble some early Spanish students stumble into, there are other more common semantic differences.<br /><br />One I've noticed recently: an early Alfonso Cuarón movie cited as <cite>Solo con tu pareja</cite>, which means "alone with your wife," whereas the title is actually <cite>Sólo con tu pareja</cite>, or "only with your wife." I'm not sure if the second one is a more lecherous title or a more prim and proper one, as I haven't yet seen the film, but given Cuarón's other films (<cite>Harry Potter</cite> excepted) I think I can guess.<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Liberation-Afro-Beat-Vol-1/dp/B00005B379/"><cite>Liberation Afro Beat, Vol. 1</cite></a>]<br /><br /><span class="down">Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra -- Indictment</span><br />Or, a list of people who should be indicted, and how we can dance as it's done. I'm not sure why Noam Chomsky makes the list, or if by that point people are groaning and booing because politics isn't fun.<br /><br />The indictments continue; Antibalas pave over them with horns blown from the bottom, electric guitar lines, funky beats, polyrhythm, and syncopation: the aural equivalent of a protest with puppets.<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Who-This-America-Antibalas/dp/B00025ETIM/"><cite>Who Is This America?</cite></a>]<br /><br /><span class="down">Antibalas Afrobeat Orchestra -- I.C.E.</span><br />This one is not the typical Afrobeat (or Antibalas) song. It starts with a sedate trombone over a two-bar metallic percussion figure with alternating accents, is joined by electric bass, rimshots, and a pensive organ, and then by a horn section and electric guitar playing against the organ ... and then the song deconstructs itself into a kind of grand cinematic music that might play over some inexplicable revelation.<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Security-Antibalas/dp/B000MR9ESK/"><cite>Security</cite></a>]<br />[<a href="http://www.antibalas.com/">Antibalas' official site</a>: they're gonna code it like it's 1999]<br />[<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/AntibalasAfrobeatOrchestra">Antibalas concerts @ archive.org</a>]<br />[and from Well-Rounded Radio, <a href="http://www.wellroundedradio.net/episodes/2007/04/antibalas.html">some background about the group and an interview</a>]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-69900032245836381682007-04-30T00:17:00.000-04:002007-06-02T13:58:24.777-04:00Vanya and JuliaVanya pretends she is called Julia, pretends she wasn't born where she was, pretends she doesn't look how she does, pretends she's graceful and witty, glamorous and poised. Yet she is not ugly, not dull-witted, not socially incompetent; what she is is self-conscious. She spends her spare time composing a soundtrack to a film that's never been made, a film she imagines as a musical <cite>Amelie</cite>, though her deepest convictions will lead it astray.<br /><br /><span class="down">Opening credits</span>: a woman in her mid-30s in an overcoat, dress, and heavy shoes, walking down a snowy sidewalk. An immediate sign that the film is more expressionist than realist: the buildings in the background are all missing their facades as Vanya passes them. Inside each apartment the people go about their daily business, apparently oblivious to their exposure: a mother playing peekaboo with her toddler; a woman in curlers at the stove, smoking as she fries liver and onions; a man doing pushups, the TV blaring behind him; a couple in bed in flagrante delicto; a young man in bed flat on his stomach, holding a pillow over his head. Vanya walking down the sidewalk, a distant look in her eyes.<br /><br /><span class="down">Waiting at the bus stop</span>: Vanya pines for Stefan yet he pays all his attention to Dora. Dora: bold, beautiful, flashy, flirtatious, the kind of girl with a reputation.<br /><br />Listening to the seemingly random bleats and blats of traffic, Vanya begins to sing her frustration: what's a woman to do, and maintain her dignity? How can you compete with women who don't? She imagines herself Julia again.<br /><br />The sound of traffic merges into muted trumpet and tuba and drums and triangle, the people at the bus stop nodding in rhythm; pedestrians accenting the downbeats; passing traffic in both lanes joining in, bicyclists and cab drivers and businessmen all together singing "Stefan: come to your senses." She is Julia, taking the lead, respectable, well-dressed, and intelligent. The song dies and the fantasy dies with it, and then she's just Vanya waiting for a bus.<br /><br /><span class="down">End credits</span>: Vanya and Stefan paying the bill and leaving the cafe together, Vanya with a quizzical, half-sad smile. The music longs for the whimsical chintziness of Herb Alpert; feels itself pulled towards the mournful dissonance of <cite>Sketches of Spain</cite>: what to do when you've got what you want and are no longer sure you want it? Isn't achievement supposd to lead to happiness?<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Balkan-Tango-Boris-Ladaaba-Orchestra/dp/B00005OW6X/"><cite>Last Balkan Tango</cite></a> and <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/10863/10863217.html">@ emusic</a> <small>which, in spite of its crummy user interface, is increasingly coming to seem like a public service</small>.]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Queens-Kings-Fanfare-Ciocarlia/dp/B000MRA45W/"><cite>Queens & Kings</cite></a> and <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/11000/11000985.html">@ emusic</a>]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Promise-Boban-Markovic/dp/B000BGHBEQ/"><cite>The Promise</cite></a> and <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/10905/10905144.html">@ emusic</a>]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-84756167180400020072007-04-18T20:06:00.000-04:002007-04-21T23:12:22.874-04:00If you listen to internet radio...I've been following the news about internet radio with some alarm: in essence, the rates are being increased quite a lot, so sites like <a href="http://www.pandora.com/">Pandora</a> and <a href="http://soma.fm">soma.fm</a> are in danger.<br /><br />I'm quite fond of Pandora, which lets you to enter an artist or song in a search and have it generate a playlist of other songs you might like based on how you rate the results; in fact I've been using it for research recently.<br /><br />If you like internet radio, or if you've ever wondered why internet radio and satellite radio should have to pay licensing fees while public radio gets a free pass (perhaps so the public will always have somewhere to go to hear Kansas sing "Dust in the Wind,") you might be interested in this note that Pandora sent out recently:<blockquote>Hi, it's Tim from Pandora,<br /><br />I'm writing today to ask for your help. The survival of Pandora and all of Internet radio is in jeopardy because of a recent decision by the Copyright Royalty Board in Washington, DC to almost triple the licensing fees for Internet radio sites like Pandora. The new royalty rates are irrationally high, more than four times what satellite radio pays, and broadcast radio doesn't pay these at all. Left unchanged, these new royalties will kill every Internet radio site, including Pandora.<br /><br />In response to these new and unfair fees, we have formed the SaveNetRadio Coalition, a group that includes listeners, artists, labels and webcasters. I hope that you will consider joining us. <br /><br />Please sign our petition urging your Congressional representative to act to save Internet radio: <a href="http://capwiz.com/saveinternetradio/issues/alert/?alertid=9631541">http://capwiz.com/saveinternetradio/issues/alert/?alertid=9631541</a> <br /><br />Please feel free to forward this link/email to your friends - the more petitioners we can get, the better. <br /><br />Understand that we are fully supportive of paying royalties to the artists whose music we play, and have done so since our inception. As a former touring musician myself, I'm no stranger to the challenges facing working musicians. The issue we have with the recent ruling is that it puts the cost of streaming far out of the range of ANY webcaster's business potential. <br /><br />I hope you'll take just a few minutes to sign our petition - it WILL make a difference. As a young industry, we do not have the lobbying power of the RIAA. You, our listeners, are by far our biggest and most influential allies.<br /><br />As always, and now more than ever, thank you for your support.<br /><br />-Tim Westergren<br />(Pandora founder)</blockquote>Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-62875027662753404512007-04-17T08:46:00.000-04:002007-05-21T08:06:58.886-04:00you can stop counting<span class="down">The Legendary Pink Dots -- The Made Man's Manifesto</span><br />I don't know enough about the Legendary Pink Dots to say if it's rare that they sound like pre-<cite>Dark Side</cite> Pink Floyd, but <a href="http://allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=10:w959kectgq7b">Allmusic.com does, and does</a>.<br /><br />All I know is I like this track, and it reminds me a bit of Floyd but, to indulge a cliche, "not in a bad way," and I don't know which made man's manifesto it might be referring to; I'm having a hard time relating the lyrics to any fictional or real mobsters I know of. Also:<br /><a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=h-YcBVEnLT8">1 2 3, 4 5, 6 7 8, 9 10, 11 12</a>,<br />You can stop counting.<br /><br /><a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=tXfnY7yIII8">5 10, 15 20, 25 30, 35 40, 45 50</a>,<br />You can stop counting.<br /><br /><a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=MEDqUxIGE-s">Ten, ten ten ten ten, ten ten ten ten, ten</a>,<br />You can stop counting.<br /><br /><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Binary_numeral_system#Counting_in_binary">0 1, 10 11, 100</a>,<br /><a href="http://us.imdb.com/title/tt0067800/">You can stop counting</a>.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.southwest.com.au/~jfuller/binary/binary4.htm">128, 64, 0, 0, 8, 4, 0, 1</a>,<br /><a href="http://www.maa.org/mathland/mathtrek_6_7_99.html">You can stop counting</a>.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.newscientist.com/article.ns?id=dn6303">One-two-many</a>,<br /><a href="http://itre.cis.upenn.edu/~myl/languagelog/archives/001364.html">You can stop counting</a>.<br /><br />The Legendary Pink Dots have been around for a quarter-century and have released about 40 albums. <a href="http://www.emusic.com/artist/11564/11564244.html">Twenty-four of them are on emusic</a>. I haven't yet heard <cite>The Maria Dimension</cite>, though right off it reminds me of a friendlier and less demented Aphex Twin crossed with a less moody/brooding early Dead Can Dance.<br />[<a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/10921/10921553.html"><cite>Your Children Placate You From Premature Graves</cite></a> @ emusic]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-86069443683564475552007-04-16T02:28:00.000-04:002007-04-18T19:41:50.572-04:00The Octopus Walks Across the Coral<a href="http://www.infosclerosis.com/shanty/03 The Octopus Walks Across the Coral.mp3"><span class="up">Morningbell -- The Octopus Walks Across the Coral</span></a><br />Morningbell has a new album out. It's a Choose Your Own Adventure album; the adventure I chose was to listen to the tracks in numerical order, and then to give it some time and listen again. I'm happy for the ways it shows the group stretching out, expanding their sound, and while there aren't any tracks on it I dislike, I think the two being promoted are not the two I would have picked: my money is on "Utopian Fantasy at the Center of the Earth" and "The Octopus Walks Across the Coral."<br /><br />I've written about Morningbell twice before, <a href="http://tuwa.blogspot.com/2006/03/morningbell-mittens-tigs.html">once for kicks</a> and out of general excitement, and <a href="http://tuwa.blogspot.com/2006/05/mix-part-two.html">once as part of a failed experiment</a>. What I haven't written much about is octopuses.<br /><br />What can you say about octopuses that doesn't involve ink or the lack of a skeleton? They can <a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=OQWxIrSRDQQ">camouflage themselves amazingly well</a>, <a href="http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/octopus/media_players_blue/shark_hi.html">sometimes to ambush a shark</a>; they can <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/europe/2796607.stm">open jars for food</a> and <a href="http://marine.alaskapacific.edu/octopus/ADN990724-JLittle.html">climb onboard boats to get at food stored in the hold</a>; they can walk on two legs, <a href="http://www.berkeley.edu/news/media/releases/2005/03/24_octopus.shtml">six arms wrapped around them so they look like a coconut taking a stroll</a>, or hold the other six arms up, <a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4561136">twisted about so they look like algae</a>. They can also <a href="http://www3.nationalgeographic.com/animals/invertebrates/common-octopus.html">regrow an arm</a>, <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0048215/">unless the budget doesn't allow it</a>. And they can <a href="http://resources.alibaba.com/topic/32991/The_octopus_joke.htm">play the guitar but not the bagpipes</a>.<br />[<a href="http://www.morningbellonline.com/">Morningbell's site</a>]<br />[<a href="http://www.myspace.com/morningbell">Morningbell's MySpace page</a>]<br />[This was a <a href="http://www.teamclermont.com/">Team Clermont</a> promotion, but I would have picked it up anyway given my fondness for the band.]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-64370775403096983382007-04-14T00:07:00.000-04:002007-04-14T00:19:02.375-04:00Roots Canal: everybody look what's going down<a href="http://homepage.mac.com/rosswords/.Music/For%20What%20Its%20Worth.mp3"><span class="up">Sex Mob -- For What It's Worth</span></a><br />This is on a totally different track, but Tuwa's last post reminded me of a great version of <span style="font-style: italic;">For What It's Worth</span> by <a href="http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&token=ADFEAEE47F19DA4FA87420C0933164DBBB60E11ED151FE9D50234558C0A630459E0977E540A1C6CCB5E577B479A8B32FA6500FD3C0EF51ECAD1B&sql=11:anfuxq8hldde%7ET1">Sex Mob</a>, which was Steven Bernstein's last band before <a href="http://tuwa.blogspot.com/2006/10/roots-canal-millenial-territory.html">Millenial Territory Orchestra</a>. Bernstein takes jazz in all sorts of interesting directions, trying to make it a little less cerebral and more accessible. He <a href="http://www.allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&token=ADFEAEE47F19DA4FA87420C0933164DBBB60E11ED151FE9D50234558C0A630459E0977E540A1C6CCB5E577B479A8B32FA6500ED1C0EA5FECAD1B&sql=11:anfuxq8hldde%7ET1">describes</a> it this way:<blockquote>Jazz used to be popular music. People would go out to clubs, listen to the music, go home, and get laid. Simple as that. We're bringing that spirit back.</blockquote> Give a listen. Maybe you'll get lucky.<br /><br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Solid-Sender-Sex-Mob/dp/B00003OP0Q"><cite>Solid Sender</cite></a>] Also on <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/10843/10843829.html">emusic</a>.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-9521475094149574492007-04-10T22:26:00.000-04:002007-05-10T11:06:31.438-04:00stop, hey, what's that sound?College was a culture shock: going from true poverty to an artificial poverty with secure housing and a clear end, from a small town where I was considered brilliant to a college town where I was surrounded by people who were, from oversight that was vindictive and capricious to authority that were indifferent, all of it coupled with an exhilerating and terrifying freedom. My first roommates were from Boca Raton, the three of us sharing the second-cheapest room on campus, built for four, their friends coming over to drink or smoke, one of them once memorably complaining about being given a car which cost more than my mother's house but wasn't what he wanted.<br /><br />I was a teetotaller losing his faith, bitter and angry and self-righteous, and took comfort in my arrogance. Cypress Hill was a fixture in the room that year, even before "Insane in the Brain" hit MTV; I heard their first two CDs constantly and hated them for their stoner vibe and the gangsta theatrics, but still I wondered if it was a deeply ironic word choice or a sly wink and a bit of hiding in plain sight that--among the machismo and claims to murder--they'd drop lines like "I'm a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chickenhawk_(sexuality)">chicken hawk</a> huntin' for a chicken."<br /><br />Some time back I remembered the group with some fondness, and bought <cite>Black Sunday</cite>, and found that their sound on the CD was actually fairly interesting. In trying to describe it, I thought it would be like a pitchfork: <span class="up">deep prominent bass, high far-off (far-out) sounding noises, vocals in the middle</span>. And going back a bit further, to high school, to Young MC, I stumbled onto what seemed like a precursor to their sound; <span class="up">a track with all that lethargy and sonic separation</span> yet from someone who, from his lyrics, would clearly not approve of Cypress Hill's lifestyle. I'm not sure if Young MC has changed his attitudes towards drugs since 1989, as mine did, and did again, since 1993; his first CD was the only one I listened to, and I listen to it still: I enjoy the beats and the facility with rhyme (even silly rhyme) ("I'm sloppy like Oscar but neat like Tony Randall"?) and the general party atmosphere of it, which is light and fun as long as it's not taken seriously. In this regard it's like the early Tribe records, which also have some green lyrics, some clumsy seductions and misplaced wallets.<br /><br />But the more I think of it, the more I notice songs flirting with this Cypress Hill sound, this same sound predated by Young MC's track: decades earlier, in Bill Wither's "Ain't No Sunshine"; and a few years later, in The Coup's "<span class="up">Fat Cats, Bigga Fish</span>," in Louise Attaque's "<span class="up">Du Nord Au Sud</span>"<sup>*</sup> and, to a lesser extent in Radiohead's <span class="up">The National Anthem</span> (the vocals at the high point, the horns starting in the middle ... but too thick a sound overall, too much overlap and chaos) and in The Cure's remix of "<span class="up">Fascination Street</span>" (the bass needs to be thicker, the middle thinner). <br /><br />The more I think of it, the more I think I hear it (Pink Floyd, Depeche Mode, Baaba Maal), leading me to wonder if it's everywhere or if it's anywhere at all. It's possible I'm imagining it: representative samples in a frequency analyzer show some similarity, but not the separation of sound I thought I'd heard:<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_pV9MBKErJFs/RhxE_l68rVI/AAAAAAAAAKk/uFRXeIXj9TU/s400/cypress-hill-and-young-mc.gif" width="400" height="274" alt="Young MC and Cypress Hil samples" title="Young MC and Cypress Hil samples" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051988741304659282" /><br /><br />But quite distinct songs (Tears for Fears' "I Believe," The Beatles' "Helter Skelter") don't show nearly as much difference as I'd expected:<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_pV9MBKErJFs/RhxGFV68rWI/AAAAAAAAAKs/joH_qWJkLtg/s400/Helter-Skelter-and-I-Believe.gif" width="400" height="275" alt="Helter Skelter and I Believe samples" title="Helter Skelter and I Believe samples" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5051989939600534882" /><br /><br />In '93 I'd probably bend over backwards, making any contortions necessary to prevent saying "I don't know" or "I was wrong." I don't know, and I may be wrong. Yet I'm not sure that recognizing that puts me any closer to finding what the similarities are, if they even exist.<br /><br />Readers, if you care to comment (musicians, music theorists, music historians and/or critics--anyone with a clue really), is there actually any similarity between the Young MC track and the Cypress Hill track? If there is, how would you go about finding more of it?<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Stone-Cold-Rhymin-Young-MC/dp/B0000589TO/"><cite>Stone Cold Rhymin'</cite></a> @ amazon, <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/10875/10875994.html">@ emusic</a>]<br />[<cite>Genocide & Juice</cite>: out of print]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Black-Sunday-Cypress-Hill/dp/B00000295Y/"><cite>Black Sunday</cite></a> @ amazon]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Comme-Dit-Louise-Attaque/dp/B000BCIC3Y/"><cite>Comme on a Dit</cite></a>]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Mixed-Up-Cure/dp/B000002H8K/"><cite>Mixed Up</cite></a>]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kid-Radiohead/dp/B00004XONN/"><cite>Kid A</cite></a>]<br /><br />* First posted 63 years ago in internet years on <a href="http://www.saidthegramophone.com/archives/je_ne_sais_quoi.php">my guest post to Said the Gramophone</a>.Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-91452015127972896512007-04-01T05:04:00.000-04:002007-04-17T08:45:06.572-04:00White Elephant Blogathon: Bill and Ted's Excellent AdventureThis post is part of the <a href="http://www.lucidscreening.com/2007/01/the_white_elephant_film_blogat.php">White Elephant film Blogathon</a>, in which volunteers throw a movie suggestion into the hat for someone else to review. The only restriction was that the movie be widely available; and the implication was that most of them would be bad because bloggers could already use their site to review good movies. I ignored that implication, as I didn't have the heart to recommend a film I thought was truly bad; instead I recommended one I thought was quite good but somewhat obscure.<br /><br />And in return I got <cite>Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure</cite>. I'd remembered it fondly, but I'd last seen it in high school, when it probably spoke to me more, and I'd seen it with a group of friends, which can shore up a mediocre comedy. It's a truism that actors in a comedy should act as if they're in a drama; else the comedy becomes less about situation than about actors showing out. The performances here are oversold and the timing poor, each joke delivered with a wink and a beat after it as if to slot in a laugh track. This is not Howard Hawks direction with a Ben Hecht script, though the script does have potential.<br /><br />The story is about two exceptionally ignorant and lazy but good-natured bad musicians who are on the verge of failing their history class and, hence, flunking out of high school. At a convenience store the night before they have to give the history presentation that could help them pass the class, a phone booth falls from the sky. In it is a man named Rufus who came from the future and takes them back in time to see Napoleon Bonaparte. From there Bill and Ted jaunt through history collecting historical figures and nearly getting killed in various ways. If Ted doesn't graduate he'll be sent to military school, so it's clear why they want to get a good grade on the presentation, but it's less clear why they have any interest in being musicians since it's clear they never practice.<br /><br />The movie has a few moments that work and a lot more that don't; for every nice touch like Napoleon cheating on his bowling score there are more attempted jokes which fall flat, such as the notion that Joan of Arc is Noah's wife. Many of the scenes may have worked on paper but don't work on screen; in one of them, Bill's father and stepmother kick Bill out of his room so they can get it on. The scene could have been very funny if handled right; instead it just seemed like a scene that could have been very funny if handled right. And some of the other jokes would have been better left for the viewer to discover, like Bill's Oedipus complex.<br /><br />It's disorienting in a comedy to wonder if the cleverest jokes were intended as jokes--Rufus goes back in time to ensure that the past happens as it should, yet rather than going back in time far enough to allow Bill and Ted to research and prepare a proper presentation, he goes back to the night before it's due. Research would make for a dull comedy (or a much more cerebral comedy than the screenwriter wanted), so Rufus' choice may be a narrative necessity, or it may be a subtle joke about the culture Bill and Ted have inspired, in which everything is done at the last minute. (If I remember right, Bill and Ted devise a similar solution in the sequel, just before the competition when they still don't know how to play guitar: they go back in time to practice, then return to just a few seconds after they left.) The clever joke, or perhaps plot hole, is that Bill and Ted spend all night traveling through time rather than sleeping and that staying up all night would render most people exhausted and inarticulate, yet they are more eloquent in their presentation than they ever have been before.<br /><br />I wondered more than once if the film were actually a personal fantasy written by a young man in high school with a project due very soon--I was never convinced that the future Rufus comes from would be one I would want to live in. And I couldn't help wondering also if Mike Judge didn't address the movie and its sequel twice: first in <cite>Beavis and Butthead</cite>, making the dimwitted teenagers petty and vicious, and then again in <cite>Idiocracy</cite>, making a future populated with dimwits a nightmare rather than a fantasy.<br /><br />White Elephant Blog-a-thon:<br /><a href="http://moviesteve.blogspot.com/2007/03/bio-dome-1996-seen-for-white-elephant.html">The Ongoing Cinematic Education of Steven Carlson on <cite>Bio-Dome</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://flickhead.blogspot.com/2007/03/effervescing-elephant.html">Flickhead on <cite>Teen Witch</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://www.zoom-in.com/blog/2007/04/tale_of_the_bunny_picnicvhs_re.php">Zoom In Online on <cite>Tale of the Bunny Picnic</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://eddieonfilmspecial.blogspot.com/2007/04/how-he-got-into-my-pajamas-ill-never.html">Eddie's Blog-a-Thon Board on <cite>Purple Rain</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://www.lucidscreening.com/2007/04/nude_for_satan.html">Ben @ Lucis Screening on <cite>Nude for Satan</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://www.lucidscreening.com/2007/04/troll_2.html">Andrew @ Lucid Screening on <cite>Troll 2</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://lazyeyetheatre.blogspot.com/2007/04/fun-with-michel-and-paulette.html">Lazy Eye Theatre on <cite>Forbidden Games</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://www.filmsquish.com/guts/?q=node/2416">Filmsquish on <cite>Air Bud: World Pup</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://sarcastig.blogspot.com/2007/04/picnic.html">As Cool As a Fruitstand on <cite>Picnic</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://goatdog.com/blog/archives/making_the_grade_gimme_an_f.html">goatdogblog on <cite>Making the Grade</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://talktomeharrywinston.blogspot.com/2007/04/white-elephant-blog-thon.html">Talk to Me Harry Winston on <cite>Riki-Oh: the Story of Ricky</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://explodingkinetoscope.blogspot.com/2007/04/true-meaning-of-horror-texas-chainsaw.html">The Exploding Kintetoscope on <cite>The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: the Next Generation</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://www.lucidscreening.com/2007/04/the_end.html">Ben @ Lucid Screening on <cite>The End</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://www.lucidscreening.com/2007/04/minoes.html">Case @ Lucid Screening on <cite>Minoes</cite></a>.<br /><a href="http://www.lucidscreening.com/2007/04/dark_harvest_2_the_maize.html">Rufus @ Lucid Screening on <cite>Dark Harvest 2: The Maize</cite></a>.<br />Additional links to be added as I find them....<br /><br />And two mp3s, since this is an mp3blog:<br /><span class="down">Primus -- Tommy the Cat</span><br /><span class="down">Primus -- Bob</span><br />"Tommy the Cat" is actually used in <cite>Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey</cite>, not the original, but the soundtrack to the original doesn't impress me at all and the soundtrack to the sequel outdoes it by having one song worth the time spent listening to it.<br /><br />Primus are a divisive band; most people I've met either love them or hate them. For my part, I thought <cite>Sailing the Seas of Cheese</cite> and <cite>Pork Soda</cite> were good and the rest were not.<br /><br />Les Claypool has a unique approach to playing bass, but what surprises me most about this track is Tom Waits as Tommy the Cat. The song is originally from <cite>Sailing the Seas of Cheese</cite> and tells an amusing story; "Bob" is from <cite>Pork Soda</cite> and is a sober track about a friend's suicide, aptly hinting at the darkness and obsession that surround the event but avoiding emo territory in its delivery.<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sailing-Seas-Cheese-Primus/dp/B000001Y57/"><cite>Sailing the Seas of Cheese</cite></a>]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pork-Soda-Primus/dp/B000001Y5P/"><cite>Pork Soda</cite></a>]<br /><br />And, on the subject of comedies centering on research, some <a href="http://nielsenhayden.com/makinglight/archives/008811.html">wonderful detective work at Making Light</a>, about what looks roughly similar to an Elmore Leonard story set in the publishing business.Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-16665662012423592362007-03-26T10:22:00.000-04:002007-03-26T10:25:37.305-04:00short breakI'm taking a short break. I'll have a post up, with tunage of some sort, April 1st for the <a href="http://www.lucidscreening.com/2007/03/white_elephant_reminder.php">White Elephant Blogathon</a>.Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-58757268342285608152007-03-21T21:05:00.000-04:002007-04-17T08:43:21.979-04:00free your mind<span class="down">Lil' Lavair & The Fabulous Jades -- Cold Heat</span><br />10 Verily didst the Shantyans say, "wouldst not thou deliver unto us some dirty funk so that we may celebrate?" 11 And didst the Shanty reply, "woe unto me! remiss in mine duties; 12 I beg of thee forgiveness."<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Cold-Heat-Heavy-Rarities-1968-1974/dp/B0007A2G6Y/"><cite>Cold Heat: Heavy Funk Rarities 1968-1974, Vol. 1</cite></a> @ amazon, <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/10899/10899005.html">emusic</a>]<br /><br /><span class="down">Amnesty -- Love Fades</span><br />Gur enqvnapr bs gur fgne gung yrnaf ba zr<br />Jnf fuvavat lrnef ntb. Gur yvtug gung abj<br />Tyvggref hc gurer zl rlrf znl arire frr,<br />Naq fb gur gvzr ynt grnfrf zr jvgu ubj<br /><br />Love gung loves abj znl abg ernpu zr hagvy<br />Vgf svefg qrfver vf fcrag. Gur fgne'f vzchyfr<br />Zhfg jnvg sbe rlrf gb pynvz vg ornhgvshy<br />Naq love neevirq znl svaq hf fbzrjurer ryfr.<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Free-Your-Mind-West-Sessions/dp/B000KRN654/"><cite>Free Your Mind: The 700 West Sessions</cite></a> @ amazon and <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/11005/11005181.html">also at emusic</a>]<br /><br /><span class="down">Funkadelic -- Funky Dollar Bill</span><br />IF George = "God of funk" THEN<br />Response.Write("<br>21 Render unto Caesar the things which are Caesar's, and unto George the things that are George's.<br>")<br />ELSE ' nil<br />END IF<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Free-Your-Mind-Will-Follow/dp/B000AXWV36/"><cite>Free Your Mind...And Your Ass Will Follow</cite></a> @ amazon, <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/10931/10931785.html">emusic</a>.]Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-19295249431057324692007-03-18T08:22:00.000-04:002007-03-18T09:01:44.308-04:00Roots Canal: The Woes<a href="http://homepage.mac.com/rosswords/.Music/Sunset.mp3"><span class="up">The Woes -- Sunset</span></a><br />Saw another unusual band at <a href="http://www.barbesbrooklyn.com/calendar.html">Barbes</a> last night, called the <a href="http://thewoes.com">Woes</a>. The mix of banjo and French horn, backed by violin (no, it wouldn't be right to call it a fiddle) and sousaphone, just slayed me. Their CD has different instrumentation, but the core of singer/banjoist/guitarist Osei Essed and French-hornist/organist Cicero Jones is still at the heart of it. Osei (pronounced a lot like Jose) writes the songs and sings the lyrics with a gruff, sometimes Tom-Waitsy, sometimes almost howling voice. They're tough to pigeonhole. On their <a href="http://myspace.com/thewoes">MySpace</a> site, they call it "experimental/country/blues." Barbes called it "post-Apocalyptic traditional music." I suppose that will have to do.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight:bold;">Bonus track:</span> Osei's banjo reminds me of Otis Taylor's unconventional take on the blues, so here's one of his tracks:<br /><a href="http://homepage.mac.com/rosswords/.Music/Shakies%20Gone.mp3"><span class="up">Otis Taylor -- Shakie's Gone</span></a><br /><br />[<a href="http://thewoes.com/"><cite>That Coke Oven March</cite></a>]<br />[<a href="http://www.amazon.com/Truth-Not-Fiction-Otis-Taylor/dp/B00009NH8M"><cite>Truth Is Not Fiction</cite></a>]Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-89019381985278748362007-03-16T22:23:00.001-04:002007-03-16T22:31:30.239-04:00The kitchen diaries<object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" style="width:425px; height:350px;" data="http://www.youtube.com/v/S7GGkKpBR-g"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/S7GGkKpBR-g" /></object>Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8121291.post-18056875506378535822007-03-15T21:35:00.000-04:002007-06-13T11:45:14.256-04:00Harold Burrage<span class="down">Harold Burrage -- Betty Jean</span><br /><span class="down">Harold Burrage -- You Eat Too Much</span><br />Harold Burrage was a pianist whose career started in the 1950s and lasted until his untimely death in the mid 1960s; in that time he cut blues, rock'n'roll, and R&B sides for a few labels, including Cobra (which, as you might expect, meant he recorded a bit with Otis Rush and Magic Sam).<br /><br />"Betty Jean" sounds like the kind of track <a href="<br />">the good Reverend</a> might post, all roots rock and driving rhythms, whereas "You Eat Too Much" is more rosswords's taste, a comedy song from the fringes of a strained relationship: a lament, a condemnation, a documentation of excess:<blockquote>A pound of baloney, a gallon of ice cream too<br />You ate the sole off of my left shoe<br />You started in the kitchen and ended in the hall<br />You chewed up the rug and ate the paper off the wall<br />You know you eat too much</blockquote>[Messed Up: out of print @ amazon. <a href="http://www.emusic.com/album/Harold-Burrage-Messed-Up-The-Cobra-Recordings-1956-1958-MP3-Download/10591520.html">emusic rides to the rescue</a>.]<br /><br /><small>(I accidentally deleted this post, could not undelete it; had to pull it up from browser cache and republish it. Apologies for dumping an old entry into site feeds, and for losing the accompanying comments.)</small>Tuwahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13559332232738704228noreply@blogger.com0