playlist, December 18, 2006

Camera Obscura - "Come Back Margaret"
Coco Freeman [feat. U2] - "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For"
Forro in the Dark - "Indios del Norte"
Mixel Pixel - "Coming Up X's"
Los Super Elegantes - "OK"
Mr. 60 - "Sleep the Clock Around"
The Jackson 5 - "Frosty the Snowman"
Sarah Vaughan - "Just One of Those Things"
Pyeng Threadgill - "Close to Me"
Morrissey - "How Soon Is Now?" [Live]
Air - "Surfing on a Rocket"
The Beatles - "Within You Without You / Tomorrow Never Knows"
Beck - "Cellphone's Dead"
40 Watt Hype - "Controversy"
Herbert - "The Movers and the Shakers"
Honeycut - "The Day I Turned to Glass"
Andrew W.K. - "Don't Call Me Andy"
The Zutons - "How Does It Feel?"
The Walkmen - "Many Rivers to Cross"
Sufjan Stevens - "Get Behind Me Santa"
Amy Winehouse - "Rehab"
Darlene Love - "Marshmallow World"
Teddybears [feat. Neneh Cherry] - "Yours to Keep"
XTC - "Making Plans for Nigel"
The Spinto Band - "Oh Mandy"
Vic Damone - "Winter Wonderland" (Future Loop Foundation Remix)
The Mars Volta - "Intertiac ESP"
Asobi Seksu - "New Years"
Depeche Mode - "Strangelove"
The Knife - "Neverland"
Rademacher - "Robot Show"
The Dalloways - "Clarissa, Dear"
Panty Lions - "Herndon & 99"
Mews - "The Zookeeper's Boy"
My Morning Jacket - "Anytime"
Band of Horses - "Funeral"
The Volebeats - "Knowing Me Knowing You"
Sufjan Stevens - "Sister Winter"
Joni Mitchell - "River"
James Brown - "Go Power at Christmas Time"
John Lennon - "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)"

playlista!

Here's the playlist for my second evening installment (Dec. 11, 2006):

Coco Freeman [feat. Franz Ferdinand] - "The Dark of the Matinee"
Teddybears [feat. Neneh Cherry] - "Yours to Keep"
Antimc - "Bellies Full of Rain"
Kid Beyond - "Wandering Star"
Jim Noir - "Eenie Meanie" (Fatboy Slim Remix)
The Roots - "Don't Say Nuthin'" (Remix)
Joan Jett & the Blackhearts - "Love Is All Around" (Theme from The Mary Tyler Moore Show)
Jarvis Cocker - "Black Magic"
Rademacher - "They Are Always into That"
Asobi Seksu - "Lions and Tigers"
Boris - "Farewell"
Radiohead - "Idioteque"
Gene Serene - "The Hours"
Frida Hyvonen - "Drive My Friend"
Casey Dienel - "Doctor Monroe"
Final Fantasy - "This Lamb Sells Condos"
Peter Gabriel [feat. Laurie Anderson] - "This Is the Picture (Excellent Birds)"
Brazilian Girls - "All About Us"
The Postal Service - "Nothing Better"
Junior Bloomsday [feat. Cadence Weapon] - "Your Perfect Gene"
Peter Bjorn and John - "Young Folks"
Junior Boys - "In the Morning"
Working for a Nuclear Free City - "Troubled Son"
Simian - "L.A. Breeze"
The Ark - "This Piece of Poetry Is Meant to Do Harm"
Tom Waits - "Lie to Me"
Johnny Cash - "God's Gonna Cut You Down"
The Dustups - "Talil to Taji"
The Zutons - "It's the Little Things We Do"
Editors - "French Disko"
The Roman Numerals - "The Rule of V"
Goldfrapp - "Ride a White Horse"
Saint Etienne - "Like a Motorway"
M.I.A. - "Hombre"
Cansei de Ser Sexy - "Let's Make Love to Death from Above"
The Gossip - "Standing in the Way of Control"
Billy Squier - "The Big Beat"
Kat Jones - "Huntington"
Sufjan Stevens - "Hey Guys! It's Christmas Time!"
The Decemberists - "O Valencia!"

evening eclectic -- the launch!

It's been a spell since I posted anything here. Why is blogging as difficult for me to do as any other form of writing?

Anyhoo, KFSR launched the Evening Eclectic last night, and I got to inaugurate the new show, as I have the first evening slot of the week (Mondays from 6:00 to 9:00 p.m.).

Here's my playlist from last night's show. Thanks for all of you who were listening and for the props on my myspace page.

DJ Prof's Playlist -- Dec. 4, 2006:

The Same Shape - "Obvious Solutions"
Sparklejet - "Lebanon, In"
40 Watt Hype - "Drunk & in Love"
Blake Jones & the Trike Shop - "Virginia Woolf"
The Dalloways - "Lot's Daughter"
Rademacher - "The Robot Show"
Editors - "French Disko"
Sparks - "(Baby, Baby) Can I Invade Your Country" [Alt. Lyrics]
Architecture in Helsinki - "Do the Whirlwind" (Hot Chip Remix)
Teddybears - Yours to Keep" [feat. Neneh Cherry]
Thomas Dolby - "Europa and the Pirate Twins"
My Robot Friend - "One More Try"
Roman Numerals - "My Life After Death Pts. I & II"
Lismore - "1979"
Elastica - "I Want You"
TV on the Radio -"Wolf Like Me"
Sonic Youth - "Incinerate"
Sonic Youth- "Do You Believe"
Ozomatli - "Believe"
Rachid Taha - "Rock el Casbah"
The Roots - "Don't Say Nuthin'" (Remix)
Amy Winehouse - "Rehab"
Super Lucky Catz - "Look Over My Shoulder"
Petra Haden - "God Only Knows"
El Perro del Mar - "God Knows (You Got to Give to Get)"
Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins - "Happy"
Neko Case - "Margaret vs Pauline"
Pat Benetar - "Love Is a Battlefield"
Roman Numerals - "Can We Trust Your Architect?"
Asobi Seksu - "Lions and Tigers"
Sleepover Diaster - "Victoria"
Cold War Kids - "Hospital Beds"
Yo La Tengo - "Sometimes I Don't Get You"
Adem - "Launch Yourself" (Thomas Eriksen Remix)
David Byrne - "Posion"
The Knife - "Forest Families"
Thom Yorke - "Harrowdown Hill"
Ozomatli - "April 29th, 1992"
Madvillain - "Money Folder" (Four Tet Remix)
Professor Murder - "Mountain"

the decline of art and civilization and all that

Here's a weird little interview with Sufjan Stevens on salon.com.

defending sufjan stevens

Yesterday, Stephen Thomas Erlewine, who I believe is the principal editor over at allmusic.com, posted "The Case Against Sufjan Stevens." The essay essentially criticizes Stevens and the adulation he has received from music critics; you can read it here.

I don't have a problem with people not liking Stevens' music, but I found Erlewine's tone and the assumptions that underpin his argument rather troubling. Here is what I wrote as part of an online threaded discussion over at emusic.com:

[This is in response to a fellow emusic subscriber who felt that Erlewine was not attacking Stevens per se, but was instead merely characterizing his music]

I take your point, and I think it is worth distinguishing between criticism or art and attacks on those who produce such art.

But even Erlewine titles his essay "making a case against Sufjan Stephens," suggesting that he is as much troubled by Stevens (and I suppose those who praise him) as he is by the music Stevens writes. "Adolescent fascination" and "precocious" (not to mention "his pretension and childish preciousness") are terms better suited to describe artists than they are to describe art. Certainly his final verdict--"Stevens is an overgrown teenager"--seems rather personal.

What bothered me most about the piece was the way in which Erlewine appears to be truly bothered by Stevens' fascination with art for art's sake and with his refusal to embrace the more solid--dare I say "burly"--aesthetics of the other singer/songwriters he admires (Randy Newman, Sean O'Hagen, et al.). The piece rests upon a disturbing subtext in which Erlewine bemoans Stevens' refusal to be the sort of (male) singer/songwriter that Erlewine can listen to without feeling uncomfortable. Erlewine isn't interested in the "schoolboy," "the drama student," "the adolescent high schooler" with his odd ideas--he's interested in "sophisticated" singer/songwriters. Given the various speculations about Stevens' sexuality that circulate on the Internet, it's hard not to read Erlewine's assessment as having somethign to do with that discussion. Erlewine even pinpoints Stevens "cloying song about Saul Bellow, his adolescent fascination with John Wayne Gacy, Jr." as though there were something distasteful about such interests. It strikes me that he might say something about the songs themselves rather than simply dismiss the sensibility that would find Bellow and J.W. Gacy interesting subject matter.

In fact, the essay contains very little discussion about Stevens' music that is substantive; Erlewine is content to brush it aside as mere "baroque folk-pop". It instead sneers at the kind of artist/persona that Erlewine feels Stevens cultivates, and I find troubling the assumption upon which his critique rests: we should reject artists who are precious and precocious artsy-fartsy overgrown boys who think they're smarter than everyone else and who have strange and silly tastes.

Stream or download several of Stevens' songs here.

is this land made for you and me?

This weekend I went to two dinner parties, and at the second, my host reminded me that I hadn't been keeping up with my blogging. It's always a boost to hear that someone cares whether I blog or I don't, so Kathee, this one's for you.

Friday night's party was a theme party. Not only were we asked to bring a contribution to the lovely meal (whose mean course consisted of an unusual and delicious eggplant and olive lasagna), we were also requested to bring along something that reflected our personal notion of independence. We heard poems by Rainer Maria Rilke and Mark Strand, pondered the etymology of the word "independence" (roughly it means "not hanging from something else"), and watched an excerpt from Merce Cunningham's Beach Birds.

My own contribution was to play "This Land Is Your Land" as performed by Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings. (Listen to a sample here.) I love the way that Sharon Jones makes this song her own, fully immersing it in a funky soul vernacular, altering the phrasing ever so slightly. The opening bars entail a wary and tentative effort at patriotic brassiness, but the funky beat that immediately follows takes the song a new direction. Woody Guthrie's classic paeon to the American landscape is best known for its evocation of the Redwood Forest, the Gulf Stream waters, and New York Island. But it is also a critique of efforts to privatize such spaces:

As I was walkin'  -  I saw a sign there
And that sign said - no tress passin'
But on the other side  .... it didn't say nothin!
Now that side was made for you and me!

The song also poses a question that is as poignant today as when it was written in 1956:

In the squares of the city - In the shadow of the steeple
Near the relief office - I see my people
And some are grumblin' and some are wonderin'
If this land's still made for you and me.

Rather than examples of independence, both this white man's song and this black woman's treatment of it strike me as a fine example of interdependence: the ways in which Woody Guthrie needs Sharon Jones, the ways in which we need this land, the ways in which "you and me" need each other.

I know you're all asking yourselves, "Well what did you bring to the dinner?" I brought a white bean salad with zucchini and parmesan, an easy-to-make dish that seemed to go over well with the guests. There's no cooking involved, so it's perfect for the summer:

White Bean Salad with Zucchini and Parmesan

2 cans (15.5 oz.) white (cannellini) beans, rinsed and drained
3/4 lbs. zucchini (2 small), trimmed and quartered lengthwise, then thinly sliced
4 oz. green beans, trimmed and thinly sliced on the diagonal (about 3/4 cup)
2 oz. fresh parmesan, crumbled (about 1/2 cup)
1/2 cup fresh basil leaves, torn into small pieces
grated zest and juice of 2 lemons
1 tbsp. olive oil
coarse salt and ground pepper (to taste)

In a medium bowl, place all the ingredients and toss to combine.

I know it's sounds odd to include uncooked green beans, but if you cut them into small, thin rounds, they add a lovely crunch to the salad. Try it, and let me know what you think.

The second party was a small affair that began with mojitos.
For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of sipping on mojitos at the end of a warm summer's day, here is the blueprint:

Kathee's Mean Mojitos

(serves 4)

4 tbsp. sugar
12 or so mint sprigs
6 tbsp. fresh-squeezed lime juice
6 oz. light rum
club soda
ice

In a cocktail shaker, add ice cubes, sugar, mint leaves, lime juice, and rum. Shake vigorously allowing the sugar to dissolve and the mint to bruise.

Pour into four ice-filled tumblers and top off with club soda. Add a mint sprig and a wedge of lemon for garnish.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Even if, like me, you are wary of sweet drinks or of rum-based drinks, generally, you'll love the mojito. I know we did last night. Kathee was enjoying a non-stop giggle fest.

Dinner entailed giant spring rolls with a variety of fillings: grilled pork, chicken, rice noodles, grated carrots, bean sprouts, mint leaves, cilantro, peanut and hoisin sauces. On the side, we also had spicy tofu, coconut rice, and a sesame kale noodle dish that was exquisite. (If you are reading this, Kathee, post the recipe so I can make it at home.) Our first round of spring rolls involved some minor gaffs (we weren't rolling them tightly enough), but by the time we were on to seconds, we all were a little more adept at rolling and springing.

After dinner, Kathee whooped our collective asses at Scrabble. (Even when she's a boozy mess, Kathee's scrabbilities are awe-inspiring.) I, on the other hand, kicked ass at Upwords. Needless to say, this has become my new favorite game.

Let me know when you want to have mojitos and play Upwords. I'll be there with bells on and Sharon Jones in your CD player.

the nights are getting strange

OK, so I'm administering a final exam, and just now, outside the classroom door, I hear steps that sound JUST LIKE the steps that open The Cars' "Since You're Gone." How cool is that???

socially inept people

Spent the weekend scoring some 200+ English Placement Tests. The EPT is a writing exam that students who plan to enter the California State University system must take to be placed in the proper first year English course.

There was a dearth of howlers this time around, but here are a few. (The prompt basically asked students to indicate whether they were for or against same-sex public education):

"How in God's name are you going to get two socially inept people to procreate?"

For maelstrom = "malestorm"

"Chicks over dicks! Bros over Hos!"

"Girls rule, boys drool."

And my favorite, one astute thinker explained that same-sex schools were sure to "erect homosexuals." Well, that goes without saying, no?

Hopefully during the May exam, we'll get more laughs per hour. The scoring is a three day marathon in Concord, CA (East Bay, kind of). John and I ended up having a couple of enjoyable meals with another Jon--this one a Jonathan from CSU, Sacramento--at Turkish and Mexican restaurants. During breaks, the CSU faculty complained bitterly about the astoundingly corrupt and unresponsive CSU administration. My sense is that morale among the faculty hasn't been this low in a very long time. Still, it was good to commiserate with other mistreated CSU faculty.

last nite

Went to see the El Olio Wolof/Rademacher show at Full Circle Brewing Co. last night. This is a great venue for live music, and their beers are good too. First up was Uni and her Ukelele. (That's pronounced you-knee, as in short for unicorn.) Frilly panties over green tights and various layers of other random articles of clothing served as Uni's costume. She looks like she would simply be a novelty act, but the songs are solid, her voice good, and she finds her roots in the likes of Dolly Parton. In fact she performed a medley of Parton tunes toward the end of her set. Uni'scover of Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark" was particuarly good.

Next up was El Olio Wolof, a Merced band about which I'd heard many good things, so I was eager to see them. They didn't at all disappoint. EOW includes three men and two women--all seemingly so different from one another that you wonder how they all met, much less formed a band. One plays a snazzy accordion, and for a moment I fantasized about becoming an accordionist myself. Their sound is hard to pin down--at once mellow and compelling, accessible, yet weird. I picked up their ep, so I'm happy to start listening to them and perhaps playing them at KFSR.

Bodies of Water performed next. These guys had a lot of work to do to keep the crowd's interest. The audience had gone pretty much wild over EOF, so by the time these unknowns (to Fresno) started up, everyone had gone up to the bar and was in socialize mode. On top of this, one of the guitarist's strings broke during the first song, so the organist pleaded with the audience for a six-string guitar. "Is that too much to ask?" she said. These guys were perhaps the oddest of the bunch, but I really appreciated the strange vocals. They somehow reminded me of Animal Collective, a band I've begun to appreciate a lot over the past several months.

One of my favorite Fresno bands, Rademacher, was up next. But I'd seen these guys perform several times before, so John and I headed over to the Red Lantern for Meatball Madness. Here I boogied until one a.m., enjoying the 80s and 80s-inspired song sets by some of the funnest kids in Frenso. Many of them happen to be my students, which is always a little odd, but I have a good time, nonetheless. If you ever happen to be in Fresno on the first and/or third Fridays of the month, be sure you head over to the Lantern for a night of demented dance.

Poor John: I kept him up so late and he has a big day of Rogue Festival planning and preparation ahead of him, but we are going to finally celebrate Valentine's Day this evening at one of our favorite restaurants, Senses. A belated Happy V-Day to you all!

i love these friends of mine

So last summer I decided I would, on a regular basis (ha!), dedicate a post to a downloadable song that I'm particularly fond of. Many of you enjoyed the Jonathan Coulton track (see below), and I hope you've been visiting his website, where you can find his Things of the Week. These are musical musings that he posts on, yes, a weekly basis. My favorites have been "W's Duty" and his cover of Sir Mix-a-Lot's "Baby Got Back."

One song that I listened to over and over last year--and which made its way onto a number of mix cd's I made for friends--is Marianne Faithfull's "My Friends Have" off her 2005 release, Before the Poison. The album is very solid; she collaborates with the likes of PJ Harvey, Nick Cave, Damon Albarn, and Jon Brion. "My Friends Have" is a work penned by PJ Harvey, who accompanies Faithfull on this track. Yet, even though this is unmistakably a Harvey composition, Faithfull makes it all her own, infusing the lyrics with her trademark rasp. The lyrics are surprisingly upbeat for a song that, I believe, is written in a minor key. "You're a friend of mine / I love these friends of mine," Faithfull sings. But listen to the way that Faithful enunciates the words "friend" and "friends": she growls the word, allowing her lips and teeth to tear into the letters "fr" with a sensibility that may suggest desperation, gusto, or irony. But then, at nearly the two minute mark, the drums, bass, and backing vocals subside, Faithfull shifts up a register, and, with a strained fragility, she acknowledges that "my friends have / always been there / to help me change my / crooked features." Her voice perfectly sets off the edgy, gravelly guitar which strums its two chord refrain throughout the song. Meanwhile Harvey's rich backing vocals provide a heartfelt backdrop and, at times, a soaring sense of gratitude and hope. This is a song which convinces you of the importance of friendship, even as it complicates this notion through the roughing up friendship receives from Faithfull and Harvey's unusual treatment of the topic. This is no greeting card doggerel on the virtues of companionship; this is a consideration of friendship in all its complexity.

You can download the song here, off the Anti- label website. You can learn more about Faithfull and her latest release here.

on the radio

Today was my radio day. Not all of you know this, but for the past several months I've been a DJ for the CSU Fresno radio station, KFSR. My monker is DJ Prof, and I'm on from noon to three on Wednesdays. This afternoon I blessed my listeners with a handpicked 2005 retrospective, playing some of the bestest tunes of this past year. Head over to the website and check out my playlists. (OK, you can look at the other DJ's playlists to, if you want.) You can also stream the show live and listen to me over your tinny little computer speakers. Want to make a request? Call your pilot of the airwaves at 559-278-4082. But remember, when you hear me on the air, I'm not so likely to pick up the phone and start chatting. Call me at the beginning of a song.

false alarm

OK, so maybe the good luck did set in. The blue-screen-of-death scare that I wrote about yesterday has dissipated. My old laptop is working properly, but just to be sure I'm backing up all my files--including the 30 gigs worth of music I have on my hard drive. Turns out that it had to do with my very temperamental wireless card. I just popped it out of the one card slot and stuck it in the other, and--voila!--no blue screen of death. This isn't to say that I don't need a new computer. I always need brand new, shiny electronics, so I'll take your advice, lecram, and troll tiger direct.

This afternoon John and I went to see the new Harry Potter flick. Not the least bit disappointing, although the poor actress who plays Hermione is still struggling with her furrowed brows and fed up harrumphs. The boys who play Harry and Ron are really getting good, however. I think my favorite scene was the one in which Moaning Myrtle joins Harry for a bubble bath. And did anyone guess that that was Jarvis Cocker heading up the band at the ball?

my stupid laptop

Well, the Hoppin' John tasted good, but I'm not sure it had the desired effect. All evening my laptop has been victim to the formidable blue screen of death. And this problem cycles in a loop, for just as the icons on my desktop begin to appear after starting up my computer, a blue screen with a lot of text--important information, I presume--appears for a split second, and then the computer begins rebooting itself. This loop would go on endlessly if I didn't intervene with the mighty F8 key. It's this sort of behavior that makes me loath Windows and Dell and Intel and anything remotely associated with the PC. I then yearn for an apple computer--like the one that John has and that I'm using to create this very post--a computer with a reputation for working properly, a computer that isn't prone to incessant crashes, a computer that has no idea what a blue screen of death is. And while it is true that I need to send the old lapdog off to its final reward, I can't afford any sort of computer, much less the ever pricey apple brands. I've flirted with going apple before, but whenever I seriously begin to contemplate the change, I just can't get beyond my petit bourgeois sensibilities, and I tell myself that I can get so much more computer for so much less if I stick with wintel. This is an ongoing dilemma; just ask John. But now it's off to pricing ultra-lite laptops with ultra-huge hard drives.

i'm back!

Yes, it's been an eternity, but here's to new year's resolutions! I'm trying to be a better blogger, even when my needy students tempt me into holding office hours, preparing for class, and grading papers. First things first, and I'm numero uno these days!

Today is the first of the new year, and in our family, that means making Hoppin' John. Hoppin' john is a traditional southern dish consisting of, at a minimum, black-eyed peas, collard greens, and corn bread. I grew up on beans made with a ham hock, but in a vegetarian kitchen, that's not a possibility, so I make Deborah Madison's vegetarian version, a recipe I'm happy to reproduce for you right here:

Southern Style Black-Eyed Peas

2 Tbsp. safflower or olive oil
1 Tbsp. butter
1 onion, diced
1 small green pepper, finely diced
1 celery rib, finely diced
3 bay leaves
1/2 tsp. dried thyme
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 tsp. ground allspice
1/2 tsp. ground chipotle chile or red-pepper flakes
2 cups fresh or 1 cup dried black-eyed peas
1 quart water or vegetable stock
Salt

Heat the oil and butter in a saucepan or soup pot over medium heat. Add the onion, pepper, celery, bay leaves, thyme, and garlic. Cook for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, then add allspice and chile and cook for a few minutes more. Add the peas and water. bring to a boil and simmer, partially covered for 40 minutes. Add 2 tsps. salt and cook for 20 minutes more or until peas are tender. Serve with or without the broth.

--from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone

Eating this dish on the first day of the year is suppoosed to bring you good luck throughout the year. And now I'm off to make it. Happy New Year, everyone!

even my henchmen think i'm crazy

I've been thinking about dedicating some posts to cool (and legal) music I've discovered through my roaming the net, so here goes.

A few months back I discovered a song by Jonathan Coulton that has become my own little summer hit. The title of the track is "Skullcrusher Mountain," and it features a lovely, upbeat melody and Coulton's smooth, rich vocals. Coulton sings in an alt-country vein--somewhat like a less depressed Richard Buckner--and when the chorus hits, the music swells and his voice climbs the scale in a dramatic and moving wail. The melody is so catchy that you won't be able to stop humming it. I loved the track at first listen, but it wasn't until the second or third time I played it that I began to pay attention to the lyrics. At the end of the chorus, Coulton croons,

"If you could find some way to be
A little bit less afraid of me
You’d see the voices that control me from inside my head
Say I shouldn’t kill you yet."

And the way Coulton intones "I shouldn't kill you yet," you might, if you're not paying attention, easily assume he's uttering something along the lines of "And she doesn't love me yet."

Soon you realize that the song is sung from the point of view of a mad scientist whose victim is being held at Skullcrusher Mountain against her will. He tries to win her love by giving her disturbing gifts ("What's with all the screaming?"), and with chilling calm he notes that "this mountain is covered with wolves / Hear them howling, my hungry children / Maybe you should stay and have another drink and think about me and you."

It's a love song for the ages! And it's a fiercely infectious tune that, unlike all those other tunes that creep into your head and won't leave, makes for fine mental company while you are fixing a blank stare at the boss/student/coworker who hasn't noticed your glassy, unfocused eyes. Give it a hear; you can download it here. Let me know what you think.

(The above link should allow you to download the song directly, but Coulton asks bloggers to direct traffic to his site, as well. So go here to read his blog and learn more about his recordings.)

moogy blues

I start teaching classes tomorrow. Am I ready? That would be a resounding NO! Think happy thoughts between the hours of 10 & 12 and 2 & 4.

My little sister started her blog today. I'm so proud of her. Blog, Polly, blog!

Robert Moog died yesterday.

stoney end

Last night we celebrated Charlie's birthday at his and Roxane's new pad (which they've decorated beautifully, by the way). After cake and ice cream, many of us headed down to Tokyo Garden for karaoke. TG is the first place I ever sang karaoke some few years ago: my stab was at Hank Williams' "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry," and then I warbled what has apparently become my signature karaoke number, Laura Nyro's "Stoney End." I don't think I've ever actually heard Nyro sing the song, but growing up, our family collected and listened to many of Barbra Streisand's albums (now aren't a great number of things about me beginning to become clear?), and one of these was her 1971 release, Stoney End. This is the only version I know.

The album art is terrific: La Streisand sits atop a bordello-red antique sofa in the bed of a decrepit red pickup, which appears to have broken down at--you guessed it--road's stoney end. Streisand looks both pissed off and forlorn, huddled in some black gauzy wrap and staring at the viewer, whom she appears to blame for her predicament.

Stoney Endmay be Streisand's best album. Her earlier efforts established her formidable vocal stylings, and she proved more than capable to subdue broadway numbers and torch songs to her to her signature belt. She ahd turned "Happy Days Are Here Again" into a slow, haunting melody that evoked almost every emotion but happiness, and wowed audiences with her powerhouse performances of numbers like "Don't Rain on My Parade." Later efforts include disco dabllings and a slough of ill-advised duets. (Remember that one with Don Johnson?) But with Stoney End, she proved herself capable of taking on singer-songwriters like Joni Mitchell, Randy Newman, Gordon Lightfoot, and Carole King, who were then dominating the early seventies airwaves. Although not a songwriter herself, Streisand made these songs her own, and as you listen to Stoney End, you can easily forget that these were anything other than Streisand standards. In any case, the album is a collection of beautifully arranged and executed songs, with only a couple of poor choices toward the end.

But the highlight is the title track. Streisand isn't particularly convincing as a young woman "born from love," whose "poor mother worked the mines." Not does she sound like the type "raised on the good book Jesus." But she embodies a spirit of female liberation as well as any early seventies chanteuses, as she describes how "the fury and the broken thunder's come to match my raging soul." And when she sings the last instance of the chorus--"Mama let me start all over / Cradle Me Mama / Cradle Me Again"--she evokes both ferocity and helplessness. But as the chorus fades, you can imagine her jumping out of the bed of her truck and working her way across the desert expanse that begins at the road's stoney end.

The song is rife with camp value, and perhaps that is one of the reasons I find it so appropriate for karaoke. But even more importantly, I think that my vocal range encompasses most of it, and so it works as well as any karaoke number could for someone as tuneless as myself. So, on that dimly lit stage at Tokyo Garden last night, I did my best to go follow Ms. Streisand down the stoney end (the bar--with only three denizens beside ourselves--was itself a sort of stoney end). Given the rotten day I'd had up to that point, it seemed like the right road to take. Thanks to those of you who suffered through my rendition. Thanks for going down the stoney end with me, even though you never wanted to go, Mama. You never wanted to go.

all hail the hall of records

I have dealt with more than my share of hellish bureaucracy, and I'm sure you feel that you have, as well. Dealing with that shit drives me mad. But I have to give some snaps to those very humane humans at the Fresno County Hall of Records.

You see, recently I found myself needing to correct a mistake involving property taxes on our new house. Last year when we bought our lovely little home, I was very clear in requesting an impound account to cover the home insurance and property taxes. Little did I know that my mortgage broker--who in every other respect was exemplary--would flub up this simple request. It wasn't until earlier this summer that I evidence of this problem arrived in the form of a delinquent bill for the 2004-05 taxes on the home. (Previous bills had been sent to the previous owners.) In any case, I have been visiting and writing the folks at the F C H of R, and in every instance they have been helpful and informative. An example: because the taxes on the property were overdue, $200 in late penalties had accrued. But when I explained the series of mistakes that led to my having to pay the taxes late, the F C H of R folks readily waived the late fees.

Today I paid my last installment, and I needed a receipt for the payment so that I could get the impound account started with my current mortgagee. Even though my check had not yet cleared for the second payment (bwahahahaha...), the H of R people provided me with a document indicating that my taxes have been paid in full.

So I'm giving a shout out to the Fresno County Hall of Records. Thanks, guys. You've turned what I was certain would be a nasty experience into a rather painless one. The only injury I've sustained is to my checking account, but hey, that sucker has survived much worse than this. Sometimes you should ask my checking account to show you his scars.

two person army

Friday night I saw the White Stripes perform at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley. I was more or less unaware of the Stripes until SPIN magazine named Elephant the best album of 2003. I went out and got it, and was pretty blown away. I picked up their new album a couple months ago, and have been grooving to it, too. Still, I haven't really considered myself a serious Stripes fan.

The show was magnificent. White is mesmerizing as he struts around the stage, singing into a variety of differently placed microphones. He first appeared in a black costume reminscent of a 19th-century snakeoil salesman, but soon shed the overcoat and hat and sported a tight red t-shirt and black flared trousers. He alternated instruments, playing at least two different guitars, marimba, and piano. He milks his guitars for every ounce of sound he can squeeze, and his voice is a consumate rocker screech-and-wail. A typical complaint about the Stripes is that they have no bass player. But White plays bass and guitar--at the same time, and on the same intstrument. At times his voice recalls Robert Plant. Despite his costume (which he shed fairly early on in the show), Jack isn't prone to visual theatrics; his movement is controlled and measured. But his voice evokes plenty of drama.

But for me the real show stopper was Meg White on drums. Meg is often dismissed as a non-drummer--the less-than-kind argue that she can't drum at all, while those more generous are apt to charcterize her as a naïf. It is true that there is a primal quality to her drumming, not so far afield from the great Moe Tucker's pounding when she was drummer for The Velvet Underground. But Meg seems completely in control of herself, and, at times, of Jack, as well. She falls into a trance-like state in which she sways back and forth and flings her long hair back and forth across her face. Only occasionally does she seem to make eye contact with Jack, and when she does, she seems to be inviting a show down with her bandmate.

Our group included four straight men and a set of traveling binoculars, whose primary function was to close in on Meg's impressive rack. Now I'm not a tits man, but Meg's breasts are noteworthy, and her drumming only accentuates their amplitude. Even when her bongos aren't bouncing along with her drumsticks, however, Meg exudes sexuality. The simple motion of her hip moving up and down as she pumped her kick drum is saturated with eroticism. She created her own world with her beats, and I couldn't help but wish I could enter it with her. Watching her work her kit, and given the appreciative reception she received by the men in our group, I wondered why there aren't more women drummers.

The Stripes played all the tunes I'd hoped they would, including the singular covers of Dolly Parton's "Jolene" and Burt Bachrach's "I Just Don't Know What to Do with Myself." The rest of the tunes ranged from the sweet ditty, "We're Going to be Friends" to the driving rock of "Blue Orchid." The Stripes cover a lot of territory, musically and sonically, and I was convinced that they are one of the great bands recording right now. If you get the chance to see them, take it. It will be the sort of show you can tell your envious kids grandkids about years from now.

hangin in myspace

I've been seduced by yet another online community. Myspace.com is a place where people who are either too lazy or too dim or both (like myself) to learn how to make a proper web page can create a personal profile with photos, a list of interests, a blog, and other features. You make "friends" in this cybervillage, and then you make comments about one another. From what I've seen so far, the comments tend to be pithy and cryptic. With the help of third-party software, myspace denizens can decorate their cyber-pads. So here's mine. Go for it. You know you want to.

By the way, surely you've noticed the way that everything related to computers and the Internet is becoming increasingly possessive in nature. The word my now precedes just about anything related to my computer. I save music files in a folder labeled My Music, while photos are stored in My Pictures, both of which are stored in My Documents. Everything is, of course, organized on My Computer. When I surf the web, I navigate to myspace, or My Yahoo!, or, to check anything related to my work, to myfresnostate.com. All this territoriality seems a little excessive; aren't we protesting a bit too much? Is the ownership of anything on my computer somehow disputable? Do I have to be reminded that the Yahoo portal page I see when I open my browser is mine? And how is it mine? I suppose the age of digital information has forced us to realize that issues of possession and self-possession are very cloudy. What we own and who we are are very much up for grabs. Perhaps this my-mania collective self-delusion: an attempt to continue to believe that we are self-contained individuals who can exert a measure of control over ourselves and all that surrounds us.

Or maybe my is just a catchy, cute prefix to all things cyber.