And you don't stop...

Happy New Years Everyone.

After editing the employee top ten list at work for four years or so, I got burned out and gladly handed over the reigns last year. I came to find them obnoxious. Though ostensibly a buying guide for customers, they came off more as a hipness barometer. This was perfectly exemplified to me the time I noticed an employee had listed a certain re-issue box set on their list. A month or so later when I was contemplating purchasing the box set in question, I asked the employee about the audio quality of the recordings. "i dunno. i haven't heard it yet." I honestly don't think they even remembered having put the damn thing on their list in the first place. But damn, it sure made them look cooler.
So, this isn't a top ten list. These are just the things that I really liked this year, and if I come across as obnoxious or tragically hip, I come by it honestly.

BAND OF THE YEAR
Bishop Allen
A year ago at this time, I had never even heard of these guys. They'd released one record that I never heard and there was no reason that i would ever hear them. just another band in a long list of indie also-rans. And then last January, I stumbled on a blog posting about how they were embarking on an experiment. To get the creative juices going, they would be writing and recording a four song EP a month, for the entire year. The first one, JANUARY (obviously) was already out and was only $5. What the hell. It was only five bucks. A week later the first CD arrived and I was hooked. Four songs worth of Pop gold. Now the prospect of having to write and record four songs a month might seem simple, but add that up. That's more than 40 songs (yes, I know the exact number is 48, but AUGUST was actually a full length show where they performed an entire set of EP songs) The thing is, they didn't blow the load early. The songs have actually gotten better as the year has progressed. Now that DECEMBER is out, I feel a little empty. Nothing to look forward to. On the bright side, their website promises a SXSW tour. Since they're a real indie band, that means they have day jobs, so they didn't tour outside the East coast last year, so a SXSW show is a plus.

SONG OF THE YEAR
Flight 180 - Bishop Allen
This was definitely a case of love at first listen. and second listen. and third listen. And I kept hitting repeat on the CD Player. When was the last time that happened? I have the attention span of a cocker Spaniel, and I'll even change a Ramones song in the middle because I got bored half way through its 2 minute running time. But still I came back to this song time and time again.
Starting with just a bass playing on the high strings, guitar feedback and a muffled kick drum, tension starts to build inside the song like a jack-in-the-box playing a less sinister melody. But at the 1:50 mark, instead of a thunderclap, a piano and violin part the clouds and the warm summer rain starts falling. The tension becomes forward momentum. By the time the drums come in full force at 2:40, the rain is a downpour. It becomes a baptism with the kids running around in the street. And then, almost suddenly, at 4:24 it comes to an abrupt end. Repeat...

FILM OF THE YEAR
Stranger Than Fiction
Sure THE DEPARTED was a better film and JACKASS 2 was funnier, but STRANGER THAN FICTION was far and away my favorite movie of the year. Sure, Sean Burns of the Philadelphia Weekly said "Finally, a Charlie Kaufman movie for people who are too stupid to understand Charlie Kaufman movies." but that just misses the point entirely. Kaufman's movies aren't smarter than the audience. People just reference Kaufman's movies to make themselves seem smarter. His films value pretense and premise over substance. However, it is impossible to talk about STRANGER THAN FICTION without referencing Kaufman. STRANGER THAN FICTION, however, was more like a Charlie Kaufman movie that wasn't in love with itself. And it had the one commodity that all of Charlie Kaufman's films, with the exception of his best script ETERNAL SUNSHINE, seem to lack. Heart. Sure, that might be an undervalued item nowadays, but just because it isn't in demand, doesn't mean it isn't in need. Will Ferrell's Harold Crick is the everyman embodiment of all of the little people leading lives of quiet desperation, looking for a dare-to-be great situation to give their day meaning. In the end proving that "you're never too old for Space camp, dude".
The movie's lack of cynicism was most on display when Harold Crick picks up Ana's guitar and thinking that he's not being watched, closes his eyes and starts to sing Wreckless Eric's "Whole Wide World". I couldn't find a clip of that scene, but I found the next best thing...


Other Points of Interest...

DOCUMENTARY
The Devil And Daniel Johnston
You didn't have to be a fan to be moved by this portrait that was by turns poignant and tragic. When his father relates the story of how Daniel turned off the engine and threw their airplanes keys out of the window while they were still in midair, they romantic image of the mad genius goes out the window as well, and you're left with the reality that mental illness leaves real casualties in it's wake.

SERIES FINALE
Six Feet Under
Sometimes brilliant, sometimes tedious (most of Season 3), Alan Ball's Six Feet Under was one of the most engaging shows on television. The characters resonated with a sense of realism that few others could approach. Brenda was girl you just couldn't get out of your head no matter how bad she was for you, or how bad you were for her. Claire was everyone's sister, growing from meth smoking teenage fuck up, to beautiful young woman with a lifetime of potential (fulfilled potential, as the finale showed us). And in a better world, David and Keith would continually top every list of the greatest couples in television history. And in the end, the show went out reminding us of it's central premise, that everyone dies.

TV SERIES
The Office
Was it when Dwight took Ryan the temp out to the turnip farm to haze him? Or when Michael used a marker to tell his date apart from the other Asian girl in the room. No, it was the look on Ryan's face when Kelly ran into the room to celebrate the fact their branch wouldn't be closing and they wouldn't be transfered to separate towns. That was the same look a cat sees on a mouses face before he goes in for the kill. That was the moment that I knew that this was still the best show on TV. Sorry Battlestar. You'll have to settle for second place.

MOST UNWELCOME SERIES DEMISE
Deadwood
Even the mighty Al Swearengen stood powerless as an external force blew into town and had his way with just about every man woman and child in the camp. And in the end, we are just as powerless to change the fact that HBO chose to discontinue another candidate for the title of Best-TV-Show-Ever. They mean to pacify us with two TV movies that will tie up the loose ends, but it just isn't the same...Cocksuckers.

DVD REISSUE
Seven Samurai Criterion Collection
One of the best films ever made gets the deluxe treatment that it deserved with this 3 disc reissue featuring a making of documentary and a two hour conversation with "The Emperor" himself Akira Kurosawa. Worth every penny I spent on it.

BIGGEST DISAPOINTMENT
Outkast - Idelwild (The Album and Movie)
The downward spiral continues as this duo that is more than the sum of its parts decides to play apart once again. One or two songs aside, the only thing more trying than the unspectacular album was the nearly unwatchable movie that started as an HBO project until the egos-that-be decided than a theatrical run would be a better idea. Bad idea.

And that's it for now. Hope everyone is doing well tonight. See you next year.

Bighead Strikes Again.

Maybe it's just Karma keeping the scales balanced, but it suddenly occurred to me that not only did death come for Gerald Ford after James Brown, but I seem to remember Ronald Reagan going shortly after Ray Charles. All I'm saying is that if I were George the 1st, I'd be looking after George Clinton and making sure he's doing alright. Then again, Jimmy Carter should be looking in on Charlie Pride every so often.



Bill Clinton's got years to go before he has to worry about Sammy Hagar's health.

Lost in Bad Acting

Can anyone name a shittier more over rated actress than Scarlett Johansson?

"Oh, but bobby, how can you say that? She's so beautiful."

Yeah, well so's the Grand Canyon, but I don't want that giant crevasse fucking up a movie with shitty acting either.

Needless to say, I only got about 1/2 and hour into Black Dahlia...

5 things I hate about you.

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Rolling Stone.com has been posting their top 25 re-edited film trailers of the year. The Shining is still the best one, but here are some of my favorites. Happy New Year to all of you that read this blog (both of you). Just remember...I Love You All.
























Go here for the rest of them:
http://www.rollingstone.com/news/story/12854169/recut_movie_trailers_the_best_of_2006/1

Return Of The "G"

Ever wonder what it would look and sound like if Outkast were a solo act rather than a duo. What if Andre and Big Boy were to suddenly morph into one person...

Wonder no more...

..>

God, I wish they didn't suck anymore. Can we just go back in time and pretend that everything after "Aquemini" didn't happen? Or at the very least "Love Below". Please?

BTW, Al Green is the M.F.in' man.
Even in those boots...and purse.

The Battle of New Orleans 2005

Spike Lee is the best American visualist in film today and I'll stand on Martin Scorsese's editing table in my Chuck Taylors and say that!

Just saw "When the Levees Broke: A Requiem in Four Acts", Spike Lee's four hour HBO Documentary about Hurricane Katrina. A monumental undertaking that manages to be poignant, hillarious, tragic, inspiring and about a dozen other adjectives.

I've followed Lee since "School Daze" and the Mars Blackmon era, but after "Do The Right Thing" he became a semi-permanent fixture on my list of favorite directors. It seems that every third movie or so puts his squarely in the top three again. And then I forget, and my appreciation of him fades like a high school memory.

Nevermore.

This movie should seriously be required viewing in American High Schools. They could spread it out over a week. No. Seriously.

I could go into detail about the film but, Jesus. Did I mention it's four hours long. I don't have enough room or time to write about the whole thing, but believe me. I'd love to. It's enough to say that the film covers just about every concievable detail regarding the storm, the aftermath and the recovery. Lee even found and interviewed the guy who told Cheney to go fuck himself during his Mississippi photo op.

I don't know if and when this is coming out on DVD, but anyone interested in watching it, drop me a line. I DVR'd it and I'll probably burn it to disc if you wanna borrow it. Some parts are pretty rough, though. If you can go through the whole thing without crying at least once, then you might wanna get a hug every once in a while. You need it.

Are we not men?

Three weeks ago I was standing at work waiting for the time to pass, when I received a phone call from my friend Suzy. "Do you like Devo?"
"uh...fuck yeah, I like Devo"
"wanna go see 'em in Houston?"
"uh...fuck yeah, I wanna go see 'em in Houston."
and it was on.

Yesterday afternoon, we drove to Houston to see Devo at Reliant Park and damn, damn, damn it was easily the best show I've seen all year.

And by that, I mean the Devo portion of the evening.

Our expectation driving up was that the Psychedelic Furs would be opening the show. Fair enough. I like the Furs and was actually looking forward to seeing them almost as much as Devo. After we found an, literally, out of the way Indian restaurant and had dinner, we arrived at the venue about a half an hour before the show.

At first I thought we were at the wrong place, because the parking lot looked painfully empty. There seemed to be less than a hundred cars. I figured that the dimensions of the lot just looked askew since it was situated right next to Reliant Stadium and the Astrodome. Maybe the size of those objects just threw off the perspective and made everything else around it look somehow more insignificant in comparison. Yeah, uh, no that really wasn't the case at all. If there were a hundred cars there, it was a miracle. Keep in mind that we were early, but it was still a little sad to walk into the arena and realize that as small as that place was compared to the behemoths around it, it was still too big for the tiny crowd that had so far arrived.

The first thing to catch my eye as we walked in were various Luna Tequila banners hung all over the concourse. Seriously. Not the merch table. Not the beer stands. Not even the Spuds in costume all around us. There were HUGE banners advertising Luna Tequila all over the place. At first I just kinda wrote it off until I walked up to the merch table and noticed that they were selling Luna shirts and caps. That's when I realized that in the fine print above the logo, you could read the names of the bands on the bill. This revealed two things. 1) This was the Luna Si tour (get it. lunacy). The fact that Devo, of all anti-corporate culture bands, was touring with such blatant corporate sponsorship was really disheartening. and 2) There were not two, but three bands on the bill. Devo, Psych Furs and mother fucking When In Rome. Jesus god almighty.

To say that I could have gone my entire life without seeing When In Rome is a great understatement. But if I hadn't seen them last night, I would have missed out on one of the great traditions of music biz cliché. The one hit wonder, flogging a new album. Did they play "The Promise"? Of course they did. They also played about five or six other songs. Did they even have that many songs on their one album? The best part was when they announced, "This is off our new album. You can find it on sale out at the merch table!" You could hear the general crowd conversation level suddenly go up about ten decibels. The funny thing is, it pretty much sounded like every other song they played that night. I guess I gotta give it to them for consistency.

I should, at this point, also indicate that Suzy and I were sitting in the 6th row. Very good seats. Not so close that we had to crane our necks to look up and not so far that we had to stare at the back of someone's head for the duration of the show...Or so you would think. As fate would have it, we managed to sit behind the only...let me repeat that...THE ONLY person who felt the need to stand up and dance for the duration of When In Rome's set. I shit you not. And furthermore, not only was she dancing, she knew every fucking word to every fucking song, which she proceeded to sing along to even as she was busy making semaphore like pantomimes to the lead singer (Except during the new one. You can put money down and bet that she was as quiet as a church mouse during the new song, so as to gleam every nugget of romantic wisdom she could from the dead sea scroll like new discovery.) And you can bet dollars to donuts that he was singing directly at her at least 5 to 10 percent of the time. I think he tried to avoid eye contact with her the rest of the set.

After the break we say down to watch the Psychedelic Furs. The guy behind us offered the consolation "Maybe she's not a big Psych Furs fan..." To which his friend added, "or maybe she's just a stander..." Turns out she was just a stander. Luckily, as I've mentioned before, the hall was still pretty sparse, so we just scooted over about four seats and were able to get a direct view of the show. I wish I had a lot of details about this part of the show, but unfortunately it suffers for having been not as good as the headliner and not as bad as the opener. I was actually looking forward to seeing the Psych Furs, but ultimately the whole experience was encapsulated by the moment when I found myself stuck in the bathroom in midleak when the started to play "Ghost in You" by the time I got back, the song was over. One thing in particular does stand out. In spite of spending the majority of his career cultivating a Bauhaus/Sid Vicious look, Richard Butler now looks and dresses exactly like Wesley Windham-Pryce from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". Now T.V. geeks will notice I didn't say Wesley on Angel. Wesley on "Angel" would eventually become a badass as well as quite cool. No. He looked like Wesley on "Buffy", the uptight and terribly British Watcher that couldn't be cool if his life depended on it. We're talking pin stripe slacks. Long sleeve shirt with a sweater vest. Sports coat. Glasses. Kinda like a British private girl school English teacher. Come to think of it, he did look kinda cool.

By the way, while on my piss break during the middle set, I walked by the merch table and saw When In Rome hanging out there, offering to autograph anything that anyone wanted them to sign, so long as it was purchased that evening. They weren't having much luck at all. ("No, seriously man. If you buy it, we'll sign it! I'm not kidding.")...(I'm not kidding)

So then it was time for the main course. The night was already a bit surreal, given that the show was being sponsored by 106.9 ThePoint, or something like that. This was obviously one of those catchall "BOB" style stations that happens to play the occasional "new wave" song during their flashback lunch, which makes them about as qualified to host a Devo show as any other station in Houston that doesn't play Classic Rock or Hip Hop. The local radio personality who MC'd the show reminded us that they would be bringing Sheryl Crow and Steve Miller later on in the year. He was a satin jacket lifer with a Big Boss Voice. One of those guys who'd probably worked for the station for the last twenty years or so. You know the damn place has changed format like five times since he started, but dammit he's there to do his job no matter what music the station plays and anyway, he likes it a lot better now that they sometimes play Paula Cole and Sting. It's a big improvement over those years from '95 to 2000 when they were a Modern Rock station or something. Oh, and did I mention the mullet? Anyway...

By this time, the crowd thickened out somewhat. It was still anemic, compared to what I had expected, but considering that I'd heard that they had to resort to BOGO's (buy one, get one) to move tickets in the last week, I guess it could have been worse. As far as the crowd that was there, it was a 70/25/5 split between children of the 80's who were out for a fun night away from the kids, hardcore Spuds, and younger hipsters. As a matter of fact, I commented to Suzy at one point that this was the oldest demographic for a show that I'd been to in a long time. The fact that the people comprising this older demographic were all my age still doesn't really sit well with me. I've been spending all my time going to see pretentious hipster bands (Tapes and Tapes, anyone?) with people that could almost be my kids. I feel like Lorelai Gilmore. This creeping fear of my own mortality did not, of course, prevent me from mercilessly ridiculing my fellow thirtysomethings behind their back in true Rob Fleming fashion. ("I dont' give a damn. We go out one godammn night a month! I'll stand up and dance if I fucking want to. I don't care what time we told the sitter we'd be home. She can go out whenever the fuck she wants! I get this one night. Is that too much to ask? And don't tell me that I've had too much to drink, Barry. I'll get another beer if I goddamn want to. Some girl offered me a hit off her joint in the ladies. I might just walk back in there and take her up on it if I want! Wooooooo!!!! Whip it goooooooood!!!)

One last brief observation. The Spuds fucking ruled! Blue jump suits. Hard hats. Flower pot hats. Even the shellac hair pieces. These people came to rock, and goddamn it if they didn't fucking rock! In the face of such superior fandom, I was a slug in the sun, privy to a great becoming. Before them, I rightly trembled. I owed them more than fear. I owed them awe.

And then there was DEVO. All is Devo. Devo is all. My sweet lord. They hit the stage and for the life of me, I'm ashamed to say that I don't remember what the opening number was. I think it might have been "That's Good", but I'm not sure. I do know that they killed it. From the opening drum kick, they played with more energy than a band half their age. They sounded so big, and they were friggin' tight. The fact that the drummer WAS half their age (Josh Freese of Perfect Circle) might have something to do with it, but the rest of the band was part of the classic line-up, and they put everything they had into it. "Girl You Want", "Gates Of Steel", "Freedom Of Choice", "Uncontrollable Urge" "Wiggly World", "Mongoloid", "Jocko Homo" and yes, even "Whip It". When they played their cover of "Satisfaction", unlike the Stones, they played it with every bit of intensity and anger as when they recorded it. Unlike the Stones, they weren't phoning in the performance for the sake of filling their wallets with more money. Pound for pound, they were ten times the band than they should have been. They came out wearing the yellow jumpsuits and flower pot hats and ended the night in black Soccer uniforms and white kneepads. And let me tell you, the Mothersbaugh and Casale brothers don't have the tannest legs in the world. But damn. They didn't give a shit. By the last song ("Gut Feeling", maybe? I don't remember. I remember what they played, but not when.) when Mark walked out on stage wearing a giant foam cowboy hat and Yosemite Sam moustache, he was drenched in sweat and he still jumped around like he could have gone on another hour and a half.

The show finally finished around midnight, and we still had to drive home. Actually, Suzy had to drive home. It was my job to man the ipod and keep her from falling asleep at the wheel and killing us both. This document is testament to the fact that we both succeeded in accomplishing our tasks. I finally got home and went to sleep around 4 this morning, and I gotta say that I truly owe Suzy for calling and inviting me in the first place. I promised to pay off her debts if I ever won the lottery. I'm good for it, but I guess I need to actually start buying lottery tickets.

By the way...
As for the crazy dancing fool in front of us, she left two songs into Devo's set. Apparently she really was there just to see When In Rome. She paid almost $60 a ticket just to see When In Rome. I really almost hope that she ran into them at the merch table so that they could sign her breast or something. At the very least, she could have been their groupie for the night. Twenty years in the biz, they at least deserved a little nookie while they were in Houston...

Maybe that's where she went after the second Devo song?

Can you picture that?

The Electric Mayhem. The Greatest Muppet band in rock and roll history. I always loved the fact that even as a little kid, I KNEW that Floyd was obviously stoned and Janice was a smack head. How cool was it that Zoot was modeled after sexy smooth jazz Saxophonist Gato Barbieri? And plenty has been written about the Mexican cat named Animal on the drums. Rolph the dog sometimes sat in with them, but to me the true star...the true QUASAR of ROCK in the band was the honorable Dr. Teeth. He was the friggin' Man. You know the song "Come Together"? John Lennon sings about 'Ol Flat Top, groovin up slowly, smokin' mojo filters, with juju eyeballs. Dr. Teeth is who I picture that song to be about. Especially the line "Hold you in his armchair, you can feel his disease" Serious.

Ladies and Gentlemen... The Electric Mayhem!

Ligeti 1923-2006

BUDAPEST, June 12 Hungarian composer Gyorgy Ligeti, whose work was used to accompany Stanley Kubrick's ''2001: A Space Odyssey,'' "The Shining" and "Eyes Wide Shut" died in Vienna Monday, his German-based publisher Schott Music said.

Ligeti, the spiritual heir to Hungarian composer Bela Bartok, was at the forefront of the avant-garde in the 20th century and experienced and survived both a Nazi labor camp and Hungary's communist dictatorship.
''In Gyorgy Ligeti, we have lost the most significant composer of the post-Bartok era,'' Ivan Fischer, the director of the Budapest Festival Orchestra, told Hungarian state news agency MTI.
Ligeti, who was 73, was best known among music lovers for pieces like his polyphonic anti-totalitarian opera ''Le Grand Macabre,'' composed between 1975 and 1977.
''Ligeti was an avant-garde, definitely modern composer who did the most for renewing the musical language in the second half of the 20th century,'' Fischer said.
Music from Ligeti's ''Requiem'' was used in the 2005 film ''Charlie and the Chocolate Factory'' directed by Tim Burton and starring Johnny Depp as Willy Wonka.
Ligeti was born to a Jewish-Hungarian family on May 28, 1923 in Transylvania, which was part of Hungary until 1921.
He was denied entrance to university by Nazi laws and began studying music under Ferenc Farkas at the Cluj conservatory in Romania in 1941, and continued in Budapest.
In 1943 he was arrested by the Nazis and sentenced to forced labor. His father and brother died in Auschwitz concentration camp.
But Ligeti survived and after the war he resumed his studies with Farkas and Sandor Veress at the Franz Liszt Academy in Budapest, but his music suffered again under communist repression after World War Two.
He fled Hungary in 1956 when Soviet troops suppressed the Hungarian uprising against communist rule, and it was in Vienna that he became one of the best-known figures in the avant-garde of west European music.


Lux Aeterna "2001 A Space Odyssey
Musica Ricercata, II "Eyes Wide Shut"
Lontano "The Shining" (It's a long one)
Self portrait with Reich and Riley(and with Chopin in the background)

Just call him the soul machine...

(Cee-lo wearing his Harry Knowles outfit)

You gotta hand it to Cee-lo. Just when you get to thinking he's the all star of the Goodie Mob, he switches shit up on you and goes solo. Then he gets tired of making the best space soul music this side of Bootsy Collins and not getting his payday, so he goes and hooks up with Danger Mouse and pulls a Gnarls Barkley on your ass and the kids go crazy. Suddenly every hipster and his moustache starts to claim that they were supporting Cee-lo since day one. But Cee-lo, he don't care. The Gnarls Barkley album hasn't even been sitting on the dining room table for more than five minutes, and his ass is back in the kitchen cooking up cupcakes...soul cupcakes. By the time this record comes out, he's already gonna have changed music another five times. Just like Miles, but with a little more SOUL.
Feast your ears on this one bitches...

Jack Splash and Cee-lo are The Heart Attack. (as in as serious as a...)

Right Now
(go ahead and click it. don't be afraid)

Trading Spaces Party

So some friends of mine had a brush with fame this weekend as they were featured in an episode of "Trading Spaces". Pretty sweet. Especially considering that the episode was shot during SXSW so they all got to get out of work that week...Bastards.

Anyway, here are some new crazy exciting pics. (The pics are small, but if you click on the pic, it should send you to Flickr, where you can find bigger versions by hitting the "all sizes" button.)


Corby the ladykiller


Finner's head


Chris enjoys a tasty beverage


Ashley pees her pants


Corey can barely contain his excitement about his new Chinese cigarettes


Will's too damn cool


Chip's butt


Amanda trying to dance like Michael Jackson


Corey breaks balls


Cole explains to Bruce Willis how he's gonna have to throw the fight


It's getting past someone's bedtime


Laurie throws her set like back in the day


John points at Corey's crotch while Megan and Noelle blush


Corey snaps a pic of the elusive Bobsquatch


and I just had to throw this one in...

Hope you enjoyed.
Bob

Finner/Mike B Birthday

So there was a party last Friday and I took some pics. But rather than post 'em straight, I decided to do some photo tweaking. These are the ones I'm happiest about.


Mike B


Amanda and Kate


Joe


Doug and Kerby


Cat and Mandy



Edmund


Finner


Joe and Cat


Mandy

Johnny bestows wisdom upon Ponyboy's furrowed brow

So the Replacements finally got back together (sort of. they don't actually play together on the tracks in question. The just sing back up) I was happy for about a minute. Then the abstract of the reunion was overwhelmed by the concrete of the actual fruits of said labor. As I just mentioned, It's not really the Replacements playing together. Tommy Stinson and Chris Mars (Bob Stinson having died years ago) just sing back up on a couple of songs that Paul Westerberg wrote. Chris doesn't play drums, and Bob's replacement on guitar, Slim Dunlap, wasn't even invited. Why I give a shit has to do with the fact that once upon a time, the Replacements were (to borrow a phrase from the Clash) the only band that mattered. At least to me they were.

It started with the infamous SNL appearance where they all traded clothes and INSTRUMENTS between songs so that the second set sounded like shit. I still scratch my head at the thought that they were let on the stage at SNL at all, but the early and middle 80's were by far the best years for musical guests on that show. Then there was the interview on MTV's Cutting Edge Happy Hour where they were unable to control their giggling. They sat there like a bunch of 1st graders, until Peter Zaremba, the host, realized that they had all shaved their eyebrows. They were instantly one of my favorite new bands, and I still hadn't even heard more than a song or two. As it stands, the trilogy of Let It Be, Tim and Pleased To Meet Me is the best three record run of the 80's. For that matter, I'd be hard pressed to find very many bands in any era that have recorded two classic albums in a row, let alone three. My second favorite video of all time is for "Bastards of Young", a single take stationary camera shot of a stereo speaker as it plays the song. They took a similar approach to the video for "The Ledge". It was a series of random single take shots of the band and their surroundings, ie. shoes, a couch, cigarettes, a mouth etc. When MTV wouldn't play the video because of the song's subject matter (suicide), they just literally changed they music and submitted the same footage as the video the song "Alex Chilton"

They had songs about transvestites, drinking, visits to the doctor, drinking, flight attendants, and long forgotten Power Pop singers. and more drinking. But mostly, they had songs about love and heartache and heartbreak and regret and longing and frustration and all the other things that make the rockin' world go round. Like drinking. How great it was, that their golden age existed when I was most willing to subscribe to it. Much like Star Wars, I was the right age at the right time. Music always inspires its most fervent worship between the ages of 15 and 19, give or take a year or two. For some people its Fugazi, Pavement, Black Flag or even At The Drive In. For me it was the Replacements. And as much as I just don't get a couple of the aforementioned bands (one in particular, I truly hate) I get the fans. I know how they feel. 'Cos I used to feel the same way about something too. And for better or worse (but mostly for better) they broke up when I was 19 before I stopped caring as much and before they did too.

Eventually, they sobered up (except Bob, who didn't know when to stop). Chris started painting, Paul got even crankier and Tommy joined Guns and Roses (?!?!) I don't know if he's still in the band since Axl controls the flow on info tighter than the producers of Lost (did you see that one coming, this week?) but today I learn that he's also the new bass player for the also newly reformed SOUL ASYLUM (WTF!?!?!?!?!?!).

But as for the 'Mats now that they've "reunited"... I feel a little more than empty about it. Because the songs in question aren't good? yes, there is that. They sound little better than Westerberg's solo catalog (one sounds almost identical to the song Dyslexic Heart), but that's all they essentially are. And because the final Replacements record was little more than a Westerberg solo record in everything but name, these songs wouldn't sound too out of place on All Shook Down (come to think of it, pretty much all his solo work sounds like it belongs on All Shook Down) The real truth here, is that the reason i feel empty about the whole thing is that I just don't care that much anymore. i can't get excited or angry about something that I've moved so far away from. And that's the thing that really makes me sad. Because, like Robert Frost wrote, "Nothing gold can stay, Ponyboy"

Anyway, for what it's worth, here are two video clips of the Replacements perfoming live in their prime:
..>..>
Both from 2/24/86 at a sound check at Maxwell's in Hoboken New Jersey

And then more amazingly, there's this one:
..>
From 1981 onstage at 1st Avenue in Minneapolis.

Still Bill

He used to work at Boeing Aircraft, making toilet seats.
A Navy man for over nine years before he even considered a career in music.
He walked into the studio to record his debut, still under the impression that he was only recording a songwriter demo to sell his songs to other singers...despite the fact that the back up band consisted of Al Jackson, Donald "Duck" Dunn, Booker T Jones and Stephen Stills. He was just that unassuming.

Bill Withers is a bad ass.


Without a doubt, the coolest looking backup band in the world. ?uestlove has nothing on Bill's drummer.


And then, there's this one. Classic.

In the end, Withers decided that the music industry was full of shit. Rather than continue making money for someone else, Bill just took his shit and went home. He retired from making music in the early 80's and as a result, his catalog contains little to no filler. He's my hero. At least today.

I Hate Myself...

You're the Indie Guru!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

You're practically too cool for words. You've got more indie rock knowledge in your pinky finger than Guided By Voices has songs! You went to your first Mudhoney concert when you were 14. You knew Green Day before they sold out to the masses. You can name every side project Lou Barlow has been in, complete with all album and song titles. You throw out words like "Thurston," "lo-fi," and "Kill Rock Stars." You wear jeans, old band tees, Converse. You hang with other gurus and people you can lord over. You're intelligent, but big-headed. Passionate, but hot-tempered. You will one day rule the earth.

While we was busy mourning J-Dilla...

So where tha fuck was I that I didn't hear that Harold Hunter had died?



You know this kid. Especially if you've seen "Kids" by Larry Clark.
Apparently he died of a heart attack at the age of 31, back on February 17. He was a God among skaters and by all accounts, one of the nicest people on the face of the earth. R.I.P.

"You hear that (clap clap clap). You hear that?"
Harold - KIDS (1995)

Robyn

Anybody remember Robyn? She was a dance pop act a few years ago that had a minor hit and then went away. Apparently she went back to Sweden and discovered the Black in her. Here she is (the blonde one) covering Saul Williams "List of Demands" with Jenny Wilson




Apparently, she also covers Prince's "Jack U Off" and has a new song called "Konichiwa Bitches" (Chappelle reference, if you didn't know). I usually find this sort of shit annoying, since it's usually done ironically by bland indie bands, but the fact that she's Swedish makes it all so adorable...plus she is kinda hot.

"We have to get a new toilet seat, 'cos mine got broke!"

"Riding the Bus With My Sister"
Quite possibly the greatest made for T.V. movie ever produced. Everyone knows that when actors want to show the world that they can REALLY act, they go for the "lovable retarded person who has as much to learn as they have to teach the world" role. And everyone knows that when they aren't particularly good actors in the first place, they just do the same role in a T.V. movie of the week instead of a theatrical release. It most likely goes back to Cliff Robertson doing "Charlie" based on the play "Flowers for Algernon", but who knows, it probably goes back even further. Micky Rooney did it back in the early 80's with a T.V. movie called "Bill". "The Other Sister" gave us, not one, but two stellar performances from Julliette Lewis and Giovani Ribissi, although I'm pretty sure that was an actual movie, not a T.V. movie.
But all those Olivier wannabes are mere grade schoolers putting on a show and charging the figurative Nickel when compared with the awesome power of the fully operational deathstar that is Rosie O'Donell in this fine performance that puts Leo DiCaprio to shame. Unfortunately for us all, the damn thing isn't available on DVD and most likely never will be. However, these guys...

http://www.tvgasm.com/archives/television_specials/000761.php

...have assembled a compilation of highlight clips from what can rightfully be called the "Raging Bull" of pandering, self righteous, bleeding heart noble retard films.
I use the word retard, because, quite frankly, these people aren't real. Far from it. There are real people who have real mental disabilities and are, many times, at a real disadvantage when coping with many of the problems of the real world. But they are actual people with three dimensional personalities and in many instances cope just fine with the obstacles of the world on their own. The characters in these movies...well they're just fucking retarded. One dimensional collections of cliches, imparting nuggets of homespun wisdom that they presumably are privy to because they are somehow purer souls than the rest of us.
That doesn't mean that these movies aren't enjoyable. Oh contrere, mon frere. They are some of the finest examples of fevered ego run amok ever created and are even more enjoyable than that other great T.V. movie genre, the "Lifetime's Woman in Peril" movie. Anyway, this started out as a bulletin post about finding clips from Rosie's movie, but now it's so long that I'm gonna have to make it a blog post...Oh well. I'll stop rambling for now. In the mean time I recommend further viewing:

Radio - Cuba Gooding Jr.
King Of The Jungle - John Leguizamo
Do the Right Thing - Roger Smith (a near perfect movie, that happens to also feature a near perfect charicature of a performance from Smith)

Do yourself a favor and just skip Rainman and Forrest Gump. Those guys aren't even in the same league. It was all downhill for Hoffman after the Graduate and Hanks was way better when he dressed up in women's clothes. Fuck that guy.

P.S. Remember that part in "Garden State' where Sam asks Andrew if he was the guy who played the retarded quarterback in that T.V. movie? Am I the only one who thought "Damn, I'd love to see that movie!"? I can just see Zach Braff in the role of a lifetime.
Enjoy the Rosie clip.

P.P.S. HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE!!!!
As I was searching for a pic to include in this post, I found a link to the Hallmark Channel web page where, GUESS WHAT? They sell the friggin DVD!!!! Alright people. Let me know if your game for a viewing party. Maybe I can come up with a drinking game. SWEEEEEETTTT!!!!

Just like in Tootsie, but different.

What a fucking week. first we found out that James Frey may be a huckster, and now, JT Leroy doesn't exist at all!!!! Literature is the new Hollywood Babylon.

from the New York Times:
January 9, 2006
The Unmasking of JT Leroy: In Public, He's a She

By WARREN ST. JOHN

It has been one of the most bizarre literary mysteries in recent memory: Who, exactly, is the novelist JT Leroy? An answer, at long last, is taking shape.

Mr. Leroy's tale was harrowing in its details and uplifting in its arc. He was a young truck-stop prostitute who had escaped rural West Virginia for the dismal life of a homeless San Francisco drug addict. Rescued as a young teenager by a couple named Laura Albert and Geoffrey Knoop and treated by a psychologist, he was able to turn his terrible youth into a thriving career as a writer. JT Leroy has published three critically acclaimed works of fiction noted for their stark portrayal of child prostitution and drug use.

Along the way Mr. Leroy gained the friendship and trust of celebrities and noted writers, who supported his career financially and offered him emotional support when he declared that he was infected with H.I.V. Sales were good, and his books were published around the world. Shy and reclusive, Mr. Leroy, now 25, appeared in public often disguised beneath a wig and sunglasses.

But the young man in the wig and sunglasses, it turns out, is not a man at all. The public role of JT Leroy is played by Savannah Knoop, Geoffrey Knoop's half sister, who is in her mid-20's.

A photograph of Ms. Knoop at a 2003 opening for a clothing store in San Francisco was discovered online. Five intimates of Mr. Leroy's, including his literary agent, his business manager and the producer of a forthcoming movie based on one of his books, were shown the photograph and identified Ms. Knoop as the person they have known as JT Leroy.

"That's JT Leroy," said Ira Silverberg, Mr. Leroy's literary agent, upon seeing the photograph. Mr. Silverberg said he had met Mr. Leroy a number of times in person. Lilly Bright, a producer of "The Heart Is Deceitful Above All Things," a 2004 film based on Mr. Leroy's 2001 collection of stories, was no less certain. "It's JT Leroy," she said, adding that she had worked with Mr. Leroy extensively on the production.

Nyoka Lowery, a Bay Area hat designer who appears in the photograph alongside the person in question, also said she knew that person well.

"That's Savannah," Ms. Lowery said. She said she had known Ms. Knoop for years. Ms. Lowery identified Ms. Knoop in another photograph online, on the events page of a site for a San Francisco clothing company called Nisa (www.nisasf.com). Umay Mohammed, an owner of Nisa, said in a telephone interview that Savannah Knoop was a friend, and a model on her company's Web site.

Reached by telephone, Ms. Knoop said, "I don't need this in my life right now," before hanging up. She did not respond to several voice mail messages seeking further comment.

But the discovery of the public face of JT Leroy is only part of the mystery. Still unsettled is the question of who writes under that name.

Writers like Dennis Cooper, Mary Gaitskill and Mary Karr were among those who offered support to Mr. Leroy's literary career, as did several prominent editors at Manhattan publishing houses, and numerous film and pop music celebrities offered him emotional support, including Courtney Love, Tatum O'Neal, Billy Corgan, Shirley Manson and Carrie Fisher.

And of course there were journalists (including, in November 2004, this reporter), who wrote credulous profiles of the successful young writer after interviewing him, often in person. The New York Times even published an article last September under the byline JT Leroy in a Sunday magazine supplement, T: Travel. (A subsequent T: Travel article by Mr. Leroy, about the HBO series "Deadwood," was reassigned by editors when questions about his identity began to surface.)

The unmasking of Ms. Knoop adds to a mounting circumstantial case that Laura Albert is the person who writes as JT Leroy. Pressure to admit the ruse has been building on Ms. Albert since October, when New York magazine published an article that advanced a theory that she was the author of JT Leroy's books.

The New York article, written by Stephen Beachy, portrayed Ms. Albert, 40, and Mr. Knoop, 39, as unfulfilled rock musicians who concocted the character of JT Leroy to gain access first to literary circles and, later, to celebrities. The scheme began, Mr. Beachy wrote, with faxes, e-mail messages and phone calls by Ms. Albert, speaking in a West Virginia accent as JT Leroy. The article also described an acquaintance of Ms. Albert's who said she had asked him to type and fax manuscripts that bore striking thematic similarities to work later published by JT Leroy. When that name became famous, Mr. Beachy theorized, an actor was needed to play JT Leroy in person; he did not know, he wrote, who that actor was.

Mr. Beachy discovered that the advance for Mr. Leroy's first novel, "Sarah," published in 2000, was paid to Laura Albert's sister, JoAnna Albert, and that further payments to JT Leroy were made to a Nevada corporation, Underdogs Inc.

The president of that company, according to public records, is Carolyn F. Albert, Ms. Albert's mother, who lives in Brooklyn Heights. Reached by telephone, she declined to comment. The payment for Mr. Leroy's article in The Times was also made to Underdogs.

After the publication of Mr. Beachy's article, The Times began to examine the circumstances of the T: Travel article written by Mr. Leroy, about a trip to Disneyland Paris. A review of the paperwork accompanying the assignment revealed a discrepancy: the article described four people on the journey. Expense receipts submitted to T: Travel by Mr. Leroy, however, included only an Air France itinerary for three people.

Employees at Disneyland Paris and at two Paris hotels identified Ms. Albert from photographs as the person who presented herself as JT Leroy. Those employees said no one remotely resembling photographs of JT Leroy was traveling with Ms. Albert, who told them her companions were her husband and son. Ms. Albert and Mr. Knoop are the parents of a young son.

When hotel employees told Ms. Albert they were under the impression that JT Leroy was a man, they said, she told them that she had had a sex-change operation three years before and was now a woman.

Ms. Albert did not respond to numerous voice mail messages requesting comment. Reached by telephone, Mr. Knoop declined to comment.

Peter Cane, a Manhattan lawyer, responded to phone and e-mail messages left at the number and e-mail address JT Leroy provided his editors at The Times.

When The Times asked Mr. Cane to provide his client's passport to confirm his identity and that he had traveled to Europe, Mr. Cane declined. Later, however, he gave this reporter an e-mail statement from JT Leroy in response to questions about Savannah Knoop: "As a transgendered human, subject to attacks," the statement read, "I use stand-ins to protect my identity." In the past, JT Leroy has invoked transgenderism to explain confusion over his identity.

It is unclear what effect the unmasking of Ms. Knoop will have on JT Leroy's readers, who are now faced with the question of whether they have been responding to the books published under that name, or to the story behind them. The identification of Ms. Knoop may also have repercussions for the publishing world; JT Leroy is under contract with Viking for a new novel, and Mr. Silverberg, his agent, said his books were on sale in as many as 20 different countries. Carolyn Coleburn, the director of publicity at Viking, said simply, "We stand by our authors."

But perhaps those most affected by the revelation that Ms. Knoop has been playing the public role of JT Leroy are those who went out of their way to help someone they thought was a troubled young man.

"To present yourself as a person who is dying of AIDS in a culture which has lost so many writers and voices of great meaning, to take advantage of that sympathy and empathy, is the most unfortunate part of all of this," Mr. Silverberg said. "A lot of people believed they were supporting not only a good and innovative and adventurous voice, but that we were supporting a person."
....................................................................................................................

Susie Bright really brings it home in this post. It does suck to be lied to:
http://susiebright.blogs.com/susie_brights_journal_/2006/01/my_name_is_susi.html

And Lemony Snicket gives his two bits:
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?file=/c/a/2006/01/10/MNGBHGL0F61.DTL

....................................................................................................................
One last thing, I promise. Here is quite possibly the last interview with j.t. before the shit hit the fan:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,3604,1677409,00.html

A Million Little Lies

It hit the fan like a lump of shit yesterday. James Frey, the author of the best seller "A Million Little Pieces" is a liar. I only bring it up, because I know a lot of people who have read this book. It seemed to be on the way to becoming a pop cultural zeitgeist ala "Permanent Midnight", but now it seems to be on it's way to being at best a Stephen Glass-like footnote in literature, or at worst, the literary equivalent of the Milli Vanilli scandal. I predict the latter seeing how many people will come to feel betrayed by his confessional "memoir".

Anyway, if you don't know who I'm talking about, go here:( http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/0104061jamesfrey1.html ) and read about the man who Oprah must hate now even more than she probably hates Jonathan Frazen. Another blow to the BookClub.