- COFFFFEEE!! It’s been a minute since I’ve been here.
- Last night I had this amazing dream about my wife and I. It kinda felt like a second honeymoon. We were in this very 21st Century, borderline futuristic city… like Tokyo looking. Except it wasn’t Tokyo because there was an abundance of white people and everyone spoke with a vague European accent. Let’s just call it 2064 Kiev. But we were frolicking through this city from a home-base of this beautiful penthouse. We went to see this band play in an underground club. Somehow we got to dancing at the side of the stage then the band invited us up to dance on stage and sing backup for the rest of the show. After the show we went back to our place and got up onto the roof. There was a small, traditional movie theater across the alley from us. Even with the neons of the city the stars burned bright. I found a piece of wood we used to walk across and get onto the theater roof. We made our way inside and found the projection room. We dug through reels and reels of film until we found an old, dusty copy of Inglorious Basterds (so yes, this must be a future occurrence). I put it on the 35mm projector and got it working. We brewed up some popcorn and watched the film all by ourselves in this tiny, historic theater. Balcony and all. When it was over we put the reels back how they were and darted out to the rooftop. The sun was just coming up.
“They came for him on October 23, 2008. Eight medical staff, corrections officers, and guards took William Coleman out of his solitary cell, down a bright hall, and into a medical examination room. The officers stood guard outside while a medical internist told Coleman to get on the vinyl-covered examination table. They were going to feed him. Coleman told them he did not want to be fed. But they weren’t asking for his consent; he had no choice.
It had been more than a year since Coleman had chewed anything.
He’s not suicidal; he’s in prison for something he says he didn’t do. Like 2.2 million people incarcerated in prisons and jails in the U.S., his body is not his own. The only way for him to protest his conviction, to exercise his first amendment rights, he says, is to stop eating solid food.”
“In 1956, with the guiding support of Secretary of State John Foster Dulles, the U.S. Department of State sent the nation’s finest jazz musicians abroad as goodwill representatives in a conscious effort to symbolize America’s commitment to freedom. The Jazz Ambassadors program was launched at the bitterest point in the Cold War to bring the best of American culture to the rest of the world. The program not only focused on Iron Curtain nations but also the Third World, where many developing countries were exploring Marxism as a possible political identity. The first Jazz Ambassador was trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie, and two years later Brubeck joined the ranks that would eventually include Louis Armstrong, Duke Ellington, Thelonious Monk, Benny Goodman and Miles Davis. These musicians reached audiences in the millions, not only performing but also meeting with heads of state as well as thousands of everyday citizens through the international language of music.”
I can’t help but think this would never be something we’d invest in today’s world. Even with a surplus.
Last night I had the opportunity to go and see the legend of Minnesota music legends, the spiritual successor to Woody Guthrie (Arlo not withstanding), Bob Dylan. Bob Zimmerman. Robert Milkwood. Whatever you wanna call him. He lived up to that status. His presence was definitely felt from front to back, and he seemed glad to be in his (original) home.
My cousin who I was with hit it right on the head when he said, “he’s no nostalgia act, is he?”. Suffice it to say after having trouble getting to our seats on the floor due to sheer volume of people, I think the entire row ahead of us emptied after about 3 songs. It went from claustrophobic feeling to just plain bare. I should make it clear that I was told (“warned” seems like too strong of language) what a modern Bob Dylan show was going to be like from several people before going. I knew what I was in for; that being said, I honestly think I still would have the same reaction had I not been aware of the style in which Dylan and his always marvelous backing band present some of the best songs of the 20th Century. I would. Cause I was fairly baffled when I heard people complaining about it for the first time, it seemed a little unjustified. Here’s the deal: none of the songs are very recognizable, especially to an untrained ear (musically, that is). Sure… if you know the lyrics to Bob Dylan songs you’ll figure it out, or if you can recognize a key instantly you definitely will. But if you have neither of things you damn well better be going into the venue with an open mind or you will be disappointed. From the look if it, this happens at his shows with some regularity. Which is such a shame. If you do go in with an open mind, you concede to him that he’s the artist and you’re the patron, you will be in for a very memorable experience.
This was the first time I had seen him, so this could be all in my head… but he felt particularly loose last night. Spry I would even say. There were numerous times where he was playing the piano, getting more fidgety and fidgety until he finally had to pop up off his bench, grab a harmonica and walk to the front of the stage to jam. Indeed some of the best moments of the night were songs that Bob was not playing an instrument during, waltzing around the stage and pointing at his metaphors and imagery before delving into another harmonica solo. Now I know where Craig Finn gets his swagger from. His voice was surprisingly good. Again though, I’m well aware of how his voice has changed with 50 some odd years of cigarettes and red wine under the weight of being “a generation’s spokesperson”. That kind of thing has got to wear on you. Like the song rearrangements though, if you think his voice is gonna sound the way it does in the 60s or 70s, you will be dissatisfied. But I thought he sounded great, and dare I say a little bit cooler with the now trademark rasp. On “Tangled Up In Blue” for example, the long drawn-out words before the chorus hits he didn’t attempt, but he hit the chorus notes pretty well. But he’s a story teller; he’s at his best when he’s rambling on about Highway 61 or not fitting into anywhere you go. “Ballad of A Thin Man” was one of my highlights of the night: the band played a pretty heavy version of the song and Bob seemed to really be feeling the lyrics (this was one of the songs he walked around to). That song — an indictment of the establishment from a confused anti-hero who, no matter what he does (including read all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books) cannot seem to become accepted by society — ironically probably feels as personal to him in 2012 as it did in 1965. Add to that the irony of some people wanting to hear that song the way it sounded in 1965, and thinking this old version of Dylan is just too weird to enjoy, and you’ve got accidental (or perhaps intentional) brilliance.
Before the single-song encore of “Blowin’ In The Wind” (a version I didn’t even recognize initially), Dylan and co. played two of his most famous songs back to back: “Like A Rolling Stone” and “All Along The Watchtower”. It was a great one-two punch. I had heard previously a version of “Like A Rolling Stone” from earlier this year (I think from Europe gig?), so that song wasn’t too much of a surprise. And actually they don’t change it all that much, not comparatively to some of the other material. But the rendition “All Along The Watchtower” was amazing. Carefree, bluesy, even with a little snarl and attitude for good measure.
This may have been my last chance to see Dylan, and boy am I glad I did. He’s easily one of the greatest song writers — or maybe poets — of all time.
- Really insightful post from my guy PEESHE (over in Australia) about using the MPC for live shows. Specifically the MPC2000XL. Number 5 is something I always try to remind myself of. This is where he blogs now, mostly. What an excellent collective site. Dang. Beautiful design.
- And speaking of collectives, the new Minneapolis/St. Paul collective F.I.X. (“F to the I to the X”) is giving away three free albums in one nifty package until their debut collective show Friday the 17th: No Bird Sing’s “Theft of Commons”, Kill The Vultures’ “Ecce Beast”, and Kristoff Krane’s “Hunting For Father”. The last I’ve spoke of on here before. Probably multiple times. It’s an awesome album. The other two are as well. And hey, the shit is FREE. Here’s the Bandcamp stream:
- Hey, independent comics retailers/press… wanna know a good way to not sell your shit? By ripping on any of Warren Ellis’ friends in the public net-square. This includes blogs, Facebook, in this case Twitter. His wrath will be swift and severe. And I’m betting his site gets more views than yours. Not to mention that is just being an asshole. Saying that shit on Twitter.
The social, cultural, and political turbulence chronicled by such off-radar newspapers as Rat Subterranean News, Screw, San Francisco Oracle, East Village Other, Black Mask, and Los Angeles Free Press, to name only a few, is commonly overlooked in mainstream histories. As a result, what often remains is the same scattershot of familiar imagery from the late 1960s/early 1970s that’s lingered in the nation’s collective memory: hippies dancing with flowers in their hair at the Monterey Pop Festival during the Summer of Love; Timothy Leary at the Human Be-In at Golden Gate Park in 1967, urging the Haight-Ashbury crowds to “Turn on, tune in, drop out”; U.S. military tanks on city streets during the race riots in Detroit and Newark; the rise of the Hell’s Angels as the new American outlaws; and the Kent State University shootings and Mary Ann Vecchio’s haunting scream.
- So I know I probably pimp out Kristoff Krane A LOT on here. There’s a reason for that though: the guy is a brilliant songwriter, a magnetic performer, and a genuine person. I went and saw him with my girl last night and we had a blast, as did everyone who attended. If you don’t know anything about him, or even have heard his name before, it’s a bit challenging pointing you in the direction of something that represents what he does. Some of his tracks are heavier beats, where he spits hard and idiosyncratically, others are these tribal-infused rhythmic jams where his lyrics wander almost aimlessly, and others are just him and an acoustic guitar where he speaks right to your heart. That being said, “My Coffin” is a pretty decent representation of his brand of tunes:
He’s putting out a new album soon. He took donations to break even (hopefully he made some cash too) through Kickstarter, so he could release it digitally for free. Pretty awesome. Look for that.
- This has made the rounds on my social networking circles (cause my internet friends rule), but I’m still going to share this here because it’s just that good. Laurie Penny discussing journalism in the 21st Century. Def worth a read:
“I thought I got into journalism to tell truths and right wrongs and occasionally get into parties I wouldn’t normally be cool enough to go to. Right now though, with a few exceptions, professional journalism is rarely seen as an exercise in holding power to account. Justly or unjustly, the media, especially but not exclusively the mainstream, corporate-controlled press, has come to be seen as the enemy of the voiceless rather than their champion. Justly or unjustly, few people believe what they read in the papers or watch on the news anymore, because belief has long ceased to be quite as important as complicity when it comes to the Daily Mail, the Daily Post or News International. On the streets of Athens and Madrid as well as during the London riots of August 2011, journalists have been threatened and attacked by desperate young people making havoc in the streets. Why? Not because these young people don’t want to be seen, but because they don’t want to be seen through the half-closed eyes of privilege.“
- I’ll give ARTIST OF THE DAY to Adam Swanson of MN. Some of his stuff is up at the venue/bar Kristoff played at last night. He paints lots of bikes and penguins (and even a penguin riding a bike)I’ll like this one:
- I saw Kasabian the other night and they were a ton of fun. I figured a show of theirs would be a strange, dark evening of entertainment combining the sheepishness of a shoe-gaze type performance with the grandeur of a Pink Floyd show from the 80′s. It turned out to be more AC/DC than anything else. They had a very likeable in-your-face vibe to them that came across as nothing short of charming. They played possibly my favorite song of theirs (which was surprising because it’s kind of obscure even among fans), but I still would have liked to have heard a couple more tracks off their first two albums. Twas a great time though. Recommend definitely.
- I’m commencing work on my third proper long-form album and am very excited about it. It’ll feature a very wide variety of genres, sounds, instrumentation and moods. There’s certainly — so far — some amount of direct influence from the Electronica I’ve been listening to for the past year, most notably the deep, bass-swooped sounds from the likes of Glitch Mob or Mexicans With Guns. There’s also some tribal stuff going on so far, and some haunting ambient type stuff. It’s a tall order, what I’m attempting; but I really would not have it any other way. I want to be proud of what I do and create (naturally), and to be proud I want to challenge myself and reach as high as I can.
- I got a comment on an old “Roaring and Red” entry today and it made me think maybe I should revisit that theme. The idea was to use the Sonny Wilkins character to analyze modern cultural trends/topics from a 1920′s/30′s point of view. It seemed a little crazy at the time, I guess it still kinda does. Haha. But that might be something I’ll get back into at some point here.
“It’s a spiritual question. It’s a moral question. We have to take responsibility. When we don’t talk about these things. It’s a choice between guilt and responsibility. Are we gonna let it be silent and leave it the way it is, or are we going to take responsibility for it by actually working to correct it and have a public conversation that we’ve never had?“
Here’s a good example of what he does (if you don’t know):
- At least 50 people are dead in the latest batch of violence in Iraq. The attacks targeted mostly Shia neighborhoods, particularly police in those towns and cities. Dictators suck ass. But the lesson might be: democracy and freedom are not as important as tolerance and liberty (in this case, as they pertain to religion).
- I’m watching the Simpsons’ 500th episode right now. It’s pretty awesome so far. One of the better episodes I’ve seen in some time. I like the exchange between Lisa and Homer that goes:
Homer: Jeez, Lisa… why don’t you pick up a book once and a while?
Lisa: I pickup books like you pickup beers!
Homer: Then you’ve got a serious reading problem.
The opening couch gag was great, a summation of all their couch gags. I wish Fox allowed that kinda thing on YouTube, I’d post it. And here’s all of Bart’s blackboard writings.
- That new Gorillaz song with Andre-3000 and James Murphy from LCD Soundsystem is just okay. It’s the only way a Gorillaz track could possibly sound with the likes of those two collaborators, and on an LP it would probably have it’s place and serve the album well. In this case, though, as a stand alone track, it’s just alright. [Not really digging the Gorillaz Chuck Taylor's either; for which the track is a promotional tool.] However, I did only recently get into “The Fall” (for whatever reason) which is wonderful. I can’t believe it was recorded exclusively by Damon during touring. That’s using your tools (in this case his iPad) to the best of your abilities.
- WHAT THE FUCK?!? I just got done talking about how awesome this Simpsons episode has been and what do those bastards do?? They put this at the end of the show (and, it’s super quick so it’s hard to read):
THANKS FOR 500 SHOWS.
[smaller print] All we ask is that you go out and get some fresh air before logging on the internet and saying how much this sucked.
That’s… I dunno. It’s off-putting to say the least. Especially when you’re logging onto the internet to praise it (and you live in MN, where going outside in February isn’t exactly fun).
- I went and saw Atmosphereat their one and only First Ave. show of this brief tour. It was great: excellent and varied setlist, cool re-workings of songs, Sean was in a great mood. I’m waiting for some kind of review so I can see the official setlist. Atmosphere fans are really, really strange though. Some of them don’t even pay attention to the music. At all. There was two girls and two guys next to me who were more interested in hooking up than anything. If that’s why you’re going out, maybe just go to a bar? So that people who LOVE that band (and there are a lot of them), who will actually go and pay attention, can have an opportunity to go? Also, it saddens me a ton that no one really cares about Kill The Vultures, cause they are boss. And that was probably one of the more clean-cut concert crowds I’ve been amongst in some time. Those people last night made me feel like a dirtball. Which I’m fine with!
- El-P — as this article reads — hasn’t been as quiet this year as it seems. He reunited with Company Flow, first of all (in an opening slot for Portishead, oddly enough). He’s been updating this blog, periodically, which is chronicling the making of his next album. Here’s to hoping that it will finally release in 2012. In the meantime, he’s been guesting on other tracks, doing DJ gigs here and there, and even releasing a tiny bit of new material every now and again. He just released a very strange Metallica and Prince mashup that should make your head spin. This is what he had to say about it:
“I was asking people who follow me on Twitter about who the most anti downloading/digital music musicians were and we landed on Metallica (who I dont give a shit about) and Prince (who is one of my biggest influences). For fun, I put this thing together comprised of Metallica’s “Unforgiven Part 2″ and Prince’s “Purple Rain.”
Here’s the track:
- UnusualTimes.net has compiled a pretty comprehensive list of the most unusual happenings of 2011. This is only Part I of the list, featuring 25 happenings. Some of my favorites were:
So this week has been Doomtree Blowout week at First Avenue. Still is. DT is a rap crew from my hometown(s) which currently features 2 producers and 5 rappers (two of whom also produce). They have a new album out — “No Kings” — which is getting pretty good reviews. Anyways, they’ve been taking turns doing solo sets all week at First Avenue’s smaller room, The Entry. It’s been a blast. Tonight I’m hearing the surprise opener is none other than independent hip-hop legend Sage Francis. Monday’s show featured some 40ish artists. It was awesome (here’s a review). But the one I was probably the most excited to see was this group called “Kill The Vultures”.
Kill The Vultures are a bit tough to describe. Above is lyricist Crescent Moon (right) and producer Anatomy (left). Crescent Moon carries a room the same way Tom Waits does: that old-school showmanship, drenched in gritty urban history with a ringmaster type commanding presence. It’s hard to look away. One gets the sense that he’s been through some shit — as we all have — you can see it in his face, hear it in his voice. I think, at least around here, he’s one of the more underrated rappers we’ve got. As far as the music goes… again, hard to describe. There’s an urban tribal feel to it that’s vaguely reminiscent of Velvet Underground: trash cans clanging and unadulterated noise-rhythms. Most of the sampling comes from that noir-type jazz aesthetic you get from watching a hard-boiled crime film. Mysterious, haunting horns and dangerous but smooth upright bass. You know what… here, try it for yourself:
“14th St. Ritual”:
“Walk On Water”:
I know, right?
Now, in their store at their site they’ve got a really cool poster for sale… which led me to this artist.
DWitt has clearly been inspired by his Heavy Metal-induced past. He does comic books, gig posters, design work, and press materials. He’s worked for beer companies, record labels, bands, venues, publishers, even the likes of Nike. His gallery is split into two sections: Posters and Fine-Art. The style is that surreal, line-heavy, complex mish-mash of imagery you’d think of when envisioning a Mastodon concert poster (which he has done before). But it isn’t all skulls and lightening bolts. Some of his stuff features beautifully rendered omnipresent beings, fish, turtles, landscapes, etc.
The pianist, always head up, noticed me right away. I recognized her somehow; I swear she used to roll with friends I had from Chicago, or Detroit, or Minneapolis, somewhere up there. The kind of acquaintance you never really knew, but you’d remember that face anywhere. I had no idea she played the keys, and she was damn good at that. The colors were fading slowly, turning to black and white. Midwestern girl was rolling up and down her board, soloing you could say, while the 17 year old phenom and drummer were going bonkers with 32nd and 16th triplets. I was still on the floor, but nearing the stage when I let it out: mirroring the piano rolls backward. She’d roll up, I’d roll down. It shocked a couple people near the front, who I was still behind. Then a circle began forming, and an alley to the stage appeared. I stepped closer, while playing, faces and people blending together, sweating and wiggling to Mable. The stage tilted back and forth, ballooned up and shrunk all at the same time. I let out a sharp, piercing high note before lowering Her and climbing up, it felt like I was going to fall off. Just as I was, a guy front and center pushed me up some more; I felt sickness comin on. I fell forwards towards the Trap, and finally centered myself steady. The band slowed it down: drummer switched to a side-stick and soft ride, bass player, with all his raw talent, dialed it back to steady and smooth 8th’s, and Midwest girl started a progression on upbeats only… twas a pretty little groove, couldn’t help but move with it.
I looked over the bar and the color was back, those brilliant greens. I seen Mr. Thompson waving at me from the back, probably still ranting to anyone who’d listen. The other bands, the headliner (a supergroup I didn’t know existed consisting of Sun Ra*, Pharoah Sanders, Ed Blackwell, and Charlie Mingus; they called themselves Ida’s Pearls, apparently after one of their grandmother’s old necklaces) began congregating on the side of the stage. “Don’t you fuckin’ wear out your welcome, Sonny”, I told myself. So I started wailing over this beautifully to the point slow-groove the band had, it seemed, created on the spot just for me; the best gift I’ve had since starting anew in the city that never dies. I dug through every insecurity and dream that Mable ever had— I laid it all out there — pushing it out over the dark green crowd, it wormed its way back through the entry corridor and around the bar and through the vents upwards to the streets hundreds of feet above our heads. When the song finished I was applauded sure-handedly, I even heard clapping from the backstage area and outside on the river embankment. I shook hands with everyone onstage and thanked them. As they began their next song, I exited stage right to find some water and a cigarette.
*(Who, in the late 1930’s, probably took way too much O and claimed to have been swallowed up by a bright light that encapsulated him while he was in a deep meditation state. Then, on a stage on the surface of the planet Saturn, elemental beings with antennae attached to their ears and eyes told him to follow the pathway of music. Said they had already laid that out for him, his entire life and career in Jazz, and that when he spoke through music the human beings on Earth would listen. This is why he dropped outta studying agriculture at an Alabama university and moved to Birmingham, where a whites-owned piano company [who simply ignored Jim Crow laws] allowed him to play on their instruments whenever he wanted.)
Micheal Larsen passed away a year ago this Sunday, October 13th. His mother, Kathy, will be holding a dedication ceremony at a St. Paul park (Cherokee Park) on Sunday. There is a Facebook page for the event. Donations for the event, and Mikey’s memorial fund, can be made here. They will be engraving a picnic table with an Eyedea lyric of our choosing, you can vote for which lyric should go on the table here.
This morning I thought about him, my Mom, and everyone who I’ve lost throughout my lifetime while listening to By The Throatand watching videos of Mikey. The more and more I listen to the last song on that record — the title track — and the more time passes without Eyedea, the more I think it’s the best song he and Abilities ever wrote. There is something very piercing about the combination of lyrical content over the sweeping aural landscapes of the song. It’s a haunting but beautiful thing. Here are the lyrics:
Oh how easily they forget no anchor to the past
Cut the blood supply and hope the heart beats itself to death
My ribcage is now my own, still feels like your arms net clothed in salt
How’d I let it go this far?
It happens faster than you could ever think
From always and forever to never again in less than a blink
The river runs until it’s dry
But I die spittin’ my last drip into it’s mouth to keep it alive
Long drives, wide eyes, and your smilin’ face
You dance I drink, let’s waste the night away
They say you always know right away
But you can’t foresee the sand being pulled into the sea under a tidal wave
Secrets sneak out when you’re asleep
Comin’ from a queen’s mouth, talk isn’t all that cheap
I’m now a lone flame searching for a purpose
Setting fires everywhere I go, can’t avoid the burns
We share pain
You took me by the throat and made me understand the world as if I were you and I couldn’t breathe
And you can lead a horse to fresh water but you can’t teach it how to be okay when you decide to leave
I’m lost, there’s no one to protect
I got so used to bein’ sheltered from the rain that always followed you
It’s not my first time, actually it’s nothin’ new
But that doesn’t make it any easier to get through
The snow won’t melt, smoke won’t clear
Turned hope inside out a thousand times tryin’ to see if it was ever anything more than dressed up fear,
But the two go hand in hand you can’t have one without the other bein’ there
I’m barely breathin’ waitin for these screams to end
Beggin’ a god I don’t believe in to let me sleep so I can dream again
We went through thick and thin
Came out separate on the other end
But please know no matter what you’ll always have me as a friend
And I finally know
Your crime is your pride and your past is my only dose
I’m goin’ crazy outa my control
But there’s nothin’ I can do, I have no choice but to let it go
Each day gets a little less intense
No longer feel like the skins standin’ on my chest
You made me more me, and I won’t forget the times you helped my find my feet
When I was buried in my head
Thank you, for givin’ what you had to give
Takin’ what you had to take,
And makin’ me believe in you.
Even though I might be gone forever there will always be a place in my brain that’ll think of you.
You look so graceful when you’re flyin’
Keep goin’, there’s a lot of world that you haven’t seen,
You have my best wishes, even if only in silence, you deserve everything that you’ve ever dreamed.
The snow melted right when the smoke cleared,
I turned love inside out a thousand times tryin’ to see if it was ever anything more than the will to persevere,
but the two go hand in hand, the clouds surrounding you eventually will clear.
I can breathe I found contentment in the end,
Tellin’ a god I don’t believe in to go to sleep so I can think again.
We went through thick and thin,
Came out separate on the other end,
But please know no matter what you’ll always have me as a friend.
If you look into Mikey’s eyes as he performs this song in particular, you really get a window into his guts, the currents of his brain, his heart, his pain. It’s hard to find quality live videos of “By The Throat”, but this one is as good as any:
