Big Business show commentary

Note: I apologize for the delay between writing this and posting it. I wrote it late Saturday night after the show, and am posting this Monday evening. Enjoy the present... tense.

Regardless of the fact that I'm half-drunk and half-stoned, tonight's Big Business show was awesome. I've never been to Dante's, the very Portland venue before, but I've been a fan of Big Business for a while. Despite my fandom, I didn't have very high hopes for the show tonight. Their low-end attack is so strong that I wasn't sure it would hold up in a small venue, but the sound folks at Dante's did us well tonight. I thought the vocals were lost in the mix a bit, but I didn't come for the vocals. I came for the drums, and drums I got. Tonight's show was all about drum performances; the strings and vocals were the accompaniment.

Tweak Bird is a 2-piece in the tradition of the Spinanes and Big Business themselves. They grinned, rocked, sang falsetto, and obviously had a great time tonight. They had the crowd hooked from the minute they walked onstage and teased us with the opening kickdrum. Though most of the crowd was not familiar with the band, we quickly warmed to them. They're totally my new favorite band. As a bonus, Toshi from Big Business joined the band onstage for one song, and took a blistering solo. It was kind of amazing to see him kind of wander onstage and stretch his fingers all over the fretboard. Really, this band was fantastic. They clearly practice together all the time, and their communication onstage was clear and quite entertaining!

Big Business really should be playing giant venues, so I'm really happy I got to see them in such an intimate setting. Coady ruled the drums, and brought a fantastic, energetic, heavy performance tonight. After opening with the brilliant "Just as the Day was Dawning," the band rocked through songs from all three of their albums, including my two favorites from the new release, "Gold and Final" and "The Drift." These guys affectionately referred to the crowd as "babies," and took a break in the middle of one song to have the guys from Tweak Bird come on stage and start a sing-along. Jared was pure charisma this evening, playing his heart out and trying to get the crowd to buy him a drink. I'm honestly not sure if anyone ever did. Having fallen in love with Big Business as a bass and drums combo, I was wary of Toshi's performance on guitar tonight. However, he won me over with his appearance with Tweak Bird. Most of the night he reminded me of Larry LaLonde at a Primus performance - he was happy to be supporting Coady and Jared, and seemed to be as lost in the music as we the listeners were.

Local favorites Black Elk started the show tonight, which may point to why tonight was such a great time. Portland rock crowds are really cool, and everyone there was clearly into enjoying the music. Security was super chill and friendly until some tools started taking the mosh pit to the next level, at which point they took care of business efficiently, letting the rest of us enjoy our evening. Much love to the staff of Dante's, who were on time, friendly, and bobbing their heads to the rock tonight. I walked away with 2 t-shirts and a CD tonight. and I couldn't be happier.

Peanut Butter Dreams

The last time I went out socially with my high school sweetheart was a strange occasion. We went to HORDE Festival, an all day show with bands like Blues Traveler and Black Crowes. The show was fun: God Street Wine, G. Love and Special Sauce, and Joan Osborne stood out as excellent performers that day, and we both enjoyed watching everyone dance in a lovely mudpit.

Jennifer had already met the man who was to become her husband, and she was clearly emotionally well beyond the story of me and her. This is quite appropriate in hindsight, but was quite painful that night, leaving me more lonely than I really should have been on a lovely summer's night the year I was 18. After a mildly awkward good-bye, Jennifer dropped me off at my friend Megan's house where I was to spend the night before returning to camp the next day. I walked inside ready to be done with the day, and headed right to bed.

Megan is now a professor at MIT, but that summer she was one of the few women who didn't find me dangerous. She also had a giant bed, big enough for her, me, and another friend to sleep in. This bed, in addition to being quite long and wide, was piled high with enough soft blankets and comforters to warm human extremities on even the coldest of nights. Being summer, this was not a cold night, but Megan kept the air conditioning in her room on the highest setting, so as to enjoy the sense of being swaddled in bedclothes in all seasons.

I laid there, physically very comfortable in the magical bed, but emotionally quite lost in the cool, quiet dark. Suddenly the door opened and Megan lept into bed, a spoon in her hand.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Peanut butter. It'll make you have weird dreams," she replied.

Being an adventurous young man, and not one to ever turn down a spoonful offered by a lady, I ate the peanut butter, settled into the bed-nest, and drifted into sleep.

As a child, I'd had a recurring nightmare. In this nightmare I am chased down an alley lined with tall brick buildings. In the dream I'm running as fast as I can, but moving as if I was stuck in syrup. Usually I was chased by a giant cockroach, and once by the Count from Sesame Street. Luckily, the Count is the only one who ever caught me, and all he did when he caught me was sit on my chest and tell me, "ONE, ONE Han Solo in Star Wars. Ha! Ha! Ha!" This dream was totally a childhood thing, and I'd not had that dream for many years.

The night I had the peanut butter I had almost that exact same dream. There was me trying to run away, but being unable. There was the endless alleyway with no exits. There was someone chasing me. However, this time instead of being a cockroach or the Count, the pursuer was my mother. My mother dressed as a nun, running after me with a ruler.

I'm since never doubted the power or mystery of peanut butter.

A Gift of Adulthood

I find myself being more and more inspired by my intellectual ancestors as I age. As a child and teenager, I was convinced that my life's value would be in forging a brand new path, in pioneering the future somehow. When I left home at 18, I realized that I was ignorant of the vast majority of the human experience, not by any virtue or vice of my own, but simply because this experience is complicated, vast, diverse, and often murky. It seemed appropriate to me, then, to adopt an asana of learning. I've adopted the principle that I have something to learn from each person I encounter, and this principle has served me as well as I have been able to hold to it (which is, of course, imperfectly). Lately, though, I've been benefiting from this principle in a very satisfying way: falling in love with those who have come before me.

In elementary and high school, we meet dead characters all the time. G. Washington, B. Franklin, A. Lincoln. Schools present these men to us as born geniuses, flawless, moral, brilliant thinkers and doers. My principle of learning from everyone teaches me that they were not as the schools portrayed them. They are, to a one, men and women, social, political, and academic, flawed and imperfect. This realization is very very liberating, and is what has allowed me to fall in love with them as people.

For example, consider Isaac Newton. For the last three hundred years or so, anyone who wanted to learn how the physical world worked started with Newton's laws. Given an afternoon, and a little bit of Galileo and Descartes, I could describe almost any human-scale physical system using Newton's three Laws of Mechanics. He's arguably the greatest and most well-respected scientist of all time. However, he was notably absent-minded, and had a reputation for loudly speaking his mind against any who disagreed with him. I imagine other people in his life took care of most of his circumstance, and that he would not have been so successful without the support of his friends and family. This is not a judgment against him; in fact, I celebrate his humanity, and I celebrate the love and faith with which those around him served him.

Also consider my new hero, Richard Feynman. This man won the Nobel Prize in physics, and claims in his memoirs to be the only one who watched the first atomic bomb test through a windshield instead of through protective glasses. He loved nothing more than teaching physics to university students, and took up drawing in his mid-40s. He got depressed after seeing what the military did with the atomic bomb. At one point, he even married the wrong woman. These are all faults I can relate to, and they inspire me to live my life with curiosity and no fear, as we are as well described by our failures as we are by our triumphs.

It's only with the benefit of a bit of perspective on life that I've come to realize what it means to find beauty in imperfection. This is the gift of adulthood: the realization that regardless of stature or place in history, each of us has assets and flaws, and the color of life comes from the interplay of the two. There is comedy and tragedy in this realization, and that is beautiful.

Why I won't be Watching the Watchmen

WARNING **SPOILER ALERT**: This post contains spoilers about the Watchmen graphic novel. I understand the film is a loyal adaptation of the novel, and secondary sources say the subject matter of this post IS in the film.

In the Watchmen, a male superhero attempts to rape a female superhero, and is stopped in the act by a third superhero. While the depiction of this scene would be enough to keep me from going to the film, it's not the part I really have a problem with. The twist of the story is that the victim in this attack later goes on to have consensual sex with her attacker, resulting in their superhero daughter.

I believe patriarchy and rape are closely intertwined. Well over 90% of reported rapes in the US have female victims, and 99% of attackers are male. (source) Rape is an expression of power, and the real long term damage to victims comes in the constant reminders that that power is tied directly to male-centric culture. We as a culture punish victims and glorify attackers every day, in many forms of media. The Watchmen graphic novel (and now film) an example. First of all, the attacker champions the idea - a cultural cliche - that "she wanted it all along," and the victim vindicates this destructive idea when she turns around years later and comes back to him. Second, the victim is portrayed as quietly noble, admitting to herself that "she wanted it all along." For her bowing to the power of this manifestation of male strength, she is rewarded with a strong, healthy daughter.

I believe any non-egalitarian system of oppression is morally wrong, and patriarchy is such a system. One of the ways I can fight against patriarchal power is by standing up against rape culture, and I believe this film supports rape culture. We need to have serious discussions about rape, not films about superheros embodying patriarchal mythology. I will not be spending any money on this film, and I urge any readers of this post to do the same.

Flagship

My Isis discography is 104 songs, and it's been the heart of my listening rotation for this whole past year. As much as I hear the direct influence of bands like Neurosis and Tool on this band, I feel like Isis is diving further into the "post-something" category with every release. This band is unafraid of melody, and of space; their recent works make great introductions to experimental metal in general. Even more importantly, this band is working hard - touring with other artists, exploring side projects, and creating in the studio. They've clearly got a lot left in 'em, and I, for one, am listening.

Case in point: "In the fishtank 14," a collaborative effort between Isis and Scottish rock band Aereogramme. In the "fishtank" series, artists have 2 days in which to write, record, and mix a piece of music. For this entry, Isis and Aereogramme rocked a 3 song, 24 minute EP. It's slow without ever being boring or somnolent, and heavy without ever being overly abrasive. This is a very rhythmic record; the bass and drums shine in clarity and depth. It's a great place for new Isis listeners to catch some of the flavor.

Top 10 albums of 2008

10. Beck - Modern Guilt
Up to his old tricks, Beck put out a pretty good record this year. I suspect, however, that this album is somewhat diminished by overplay on the radio.
9. Xasthur - A Gate Through Bloodstained Mirrors
This is actually a re-issue of the artist's first demo from 2001. If you're not already familiar, I advise you not to seek out this music, as it will curdle the blood of the casual listener. This is very dark, very challenging music. I've listened to it because it creates an aural space inside my head, which I've found conducive to various intellectual pursuits
8. Pyramids - Pyramids
While it shares a certain lineage with the previous entry on this list (I would classify them both as ambient metal), "Pyramids" is a much more listenable, colorful exploration of the same nightmares. Sometimes soothing and sometimes abrasive, this album is consistently beautiful and intense.
7. Guns N Roses - Chinese Democracy
Say what you will, I loved it. This record tells me that Axl has been listening to all the music that's come out since the heyday of GNR, and has enjoyed a lot of it. This is a great modern rock record, and I would totally buy it if it wasn't a Best Buy exclusive.
6. In Flames - A Sense Of Purpose
Awesome. Loud, consistent, and perfectly produced, this record is spectacular. One of the few metal albums I could listen to first thing in the morning.
5. Flight of the Conchords - Flight of the Conchords
These two can do no wrong as far as I'm concerned. The show is brilliant, the videos are hilarious, and the album is irresistible.
4. 5ive - Hesperus
In the worst namespace collision ever, instrumental rock band 5ive shares a name with a horrifying boy band created by the same people who brought us the Spice Girls. That band ended in 2001, but their odorous legacy lives on in wikipedia and music databases everywhere. It's a proper tragedy because "Hesperus" is fantastic. It's pretty much all giant, rhythmic riffs and rock beats, which I find refreshing and satisfying.
3. Nas - Untitled
THE hip hop album of the year, Nas is in his prime, with a few more great albums still in him, I bet. This record is in the best tradition of rap, sounding like a news broadcast from the street. What's masterful here, though, is that Nas knows we're listening (my white middle class ass included), and is using his platform to spread some serious awareness.
2. Baroness - Red Album
Pure rock n roll here, this album should be on the "classic rock" radio stations within a year. This four piece rocked my socks at a Satyricon in Portland this year, and it was a sweaty sing along. Joey Ramone would be proud.
1 - Torche - Meanderthal
Anyone who's been around me this year is sick of this album, I'm sure. It's 13 songs, 36 minutes long, and constructed entirely from beautiful hooks psychidelic guitar sounds. I confess I saw this band live this year, too, which definitely helped push them to the top of the list. Even without that, though, this is a standout album this year.
Please notice that "Meanderthal", "Hesperus", "Pyramids", and "A Gate Through Bloodstained Mirrors" were are released on Hydra Head records. This label is the place to look for the future of rock and metal music. They are supporting and nurturing really innovative and forward thinking bands, and I couldn't be happier about that.

Honorable Mentions:
Genghis Tron - Board Up The House
Equal parts New Wave and technical death metal, Genghis Tron is one of the most provocative bands out there today.
Everlast - Love, War, and The Ghost of Whitey Ford
It's a pleasure to listen to Everlast grow into an old bluesman.

Hope is not a fantasy

Hope is not a fantasy.

Hope is belief in a better way. Hope is invoking love and life in the world around us, a world we know to be flawed and fearful. Hope is seeing that our friends are hurting, and making choices so our kids have it better. Hope is wanting to be happy and realizing that it happiness doesn't just happen to any of us. We have to visualize our happiness with optimism, manifest it with hope, and maintain it with peace.

I see the corruption. I see the power structures. I see the subhuman corporate interests, and I see the hate that lingers in our culture, fed by the continued fear mongering of fundamentalism. I see war with no end in sight. Still I hope, I believe that we can do better. It's a choice, and an active one at that. I hope, and then I make and take opportunities to implement that hope.

If hope were a fantasy, George Washington would have accepted kingship and the American experiment would have been over before it started. If it were a fantasy, the sacrifices of the abolitionists, the suffragists, and all civil rights activists would have become myths instead of a legal framework. If hope were a fantasy, Barack Obama would have been born a slave.

Look around. Nothing is certain. Trust is in short supply, and those we ask to represent us turn us against each other to hold on to their own scraps of self-claimed authority. Every societal system and institution we have tried so far has led to the commodification of life in all its forms, and to the violent support of that commodification. We've not gotten it right yet – even democracy doesn't work the way we expected it would. However, just because we don't have a way to live in peace yet doesn't mean we won't ever. Without hope, though, we may as well not even try.

So I don't think Barack Obama will change the world, or even change any of our lives in any noticeable way. The world is a big place, and full of serious challenges. I do think, though, that Obama believes a better way is possible. This campaign has shown me that he's willing to work for that better way, thoughtfully, seriously, and consistently. That's a train I can get on.

I live in the same world as all the cynics and haters, and I see all the warts, flaws, hubris, and greed. Still I hope, but not out of idealism. I hope because I choose to be happy. Hope is not a fantasy. It is a reminder that, in the end, we each are responsible for the stories of our lives, and that is as real as it gets.

Currently Having an Awesome Metal Experience

After building up my tolerance for a while, I am currently listening to an amazing metal album: Through Silver In Blood by Neurosis. Rated by many as the quintessential slow metal album, it's up till recently been too intense for me. However, this video brought me a new appreciation for the smoldering style of this band. I confess I can in no way recommend this album to the vast majority of music listeners. The length and pacing of the compositions, the theme of raw elemental power, and the properly over the top vocal performance all mean this music is largely inaccessible.

To finally enjoy this album, I have listened to lots of other slow metal, and have learned to focus on the textures of the sound rather than my personal rhythmic or structural expectations. I've also slowly desensitized myself to the more intense metal vocal styles. Artists like Isis and In Flames, where the tone and inflection (if not the actual words) of the lyrics are clear gave me a good starting place, as their singers' performances contained familiar elements of melody and harmony, simply taken to their logical extremes. While the vocals on Through Silver In Blood were not easy for me to listen to at first, I've started to be able to hear what's special about it. Whether through pure vocal control or production magic, the singers create textures just like the guitars: over driven, pushed to their lowest, longest frequencies, and played as hard and loud as possible. When I approached the vocals as an exercise in texture, I "got" the album, and am now noticing why reviewers note this as a masterpiece of metal.

This record brings into relief a small subgenre of metal that few dare to explore. This far corner of rock music has rewarded me with an epic aural landscape, populated with subtlety and mystery, which has left me feeling stronger just for having survived.

The kids of today should defend themselves...

From newsweek, via fark (my preferred new source):

If the civil-rights movement truly transformed America, why are our cities still segregated? If women were liberated by the '60s, why do working mothers still feel so chained down? If Vietnam taught us how to be a humble superpower, why are we still bogged down in Iraq?

The topic is the 60s and the context is the current US Presidential campaign. The author, Jonathan Darman, proposes that we as a country will not be able to move past the issues of the 60s without politicians who are willing to honestly face the above questions. I like that point of view. Even after September 11th peeled away the idealism upon which my identification as an American was based, I still have hope in leaders who are of the people. Leaders who are of the people arise all the time. Rarely do we see them at a national level, though. I believe the best president would be someone who didn't actually want the power enshrined therein. However, I've never seen that guy actually run.

No, this blog isn't about Ron Paul. As the newsweek article says, the 60s were so traumatic that we've spent the 40 years since just trying to restabilize our civilization. We've thus been unable to really learn the lessons of the 60s. As the child of career Army officers who fought in Vietnam, I still get called "hippie" in a derisive manner almost daily - because I espouse nonviolence as a way of life! My support for Ron Paul is about establishing an America where progress and learning are possible. I hold no loyalty to any historical period as a "golden age," especially given the short, violent history of my country; there is no time in history I would prefer to today. Thus I cannot support a leader who promises to brink back some better time in the past. We must observe the present in the context of the past, but really focus on the future. The future will be here tomorrow, whether we like it or not. So really this post isn't even about the 2008 election. It's about the 2016 election, and the 2020 election, and the 2044 election, the first year my pregnant friend's son will be eligible to run.

I'm happy to see this article end with questions, and not answers. There very well may be no answers to the questions posed at the beginning of this post, and that's fine. In asking and discussing those questions, though, we may just find a platform of worthy national character upon which we can stand together.

Sleep Om Earth Pelican

I remember the moment I first fell in love with rock music. I was 9, and the song that did it was "You Give Love a Bad Name" from Bon Jovi's "Slippery When Wet." That same year, I heard Run-DMC's "You Be Illin," and was just as moved. Since then, I've loved the music of the guitar, and the music of the beat with equal passion. I see genre as adjective, not category, and I allow my interest to flow as the spirit moves me.

That being said, I'm surprised to find I've been enjoying a certain sort of metal music. Generally, I respect the virtuosity required to be a serious metal musician, but I don't enjoy the overwhelming aggressiveness of most metal. Thus the heaviest music I've enjoyed (until recently) was the progressive rock of bands like Rush and the art-rock bloodline traceable from Layne Staley to Josh Homme.

Enter Sleep, the band often credited with founding the subgenre "stoner metal." They released 2 LPs and 1 EP between 1991 and 1993 before signing to London records. The band broke up over frustrations with London records, who refused to release what was to become the band's masterpiece, the hour-long dirge-epic song "Dopesmoker" (aka "Jerusalem"). Not until 1998 did this album finally see daylight as an "official bootleg." It has since been re-mastered and re-released in 1999 and 2003, and I heard it by accident in 2006.

This music, Sleep's "Dopesmoker", is nearly indescribable. It's very, very slow and through-composed. The lyrics, such as they are, describe a marijuana-centric epic journey of some sort. Since one must dedicate a full hour to listening to this song properly, I've only heard in it's entirely maybe 6 times. It's worth hearing if you get a chance, but I don't blame you if you only ever listen to it once. You'll never forget it.

Intrigued that anyone had ever made music like that, I investigated stoner metal and it's cousins, doom metal, drone metal, and post-rock. I've been investigating this corner of rock and roll for a few months now, and I've found some gems I'd like to share.

First, Om. Om is the current project of the drummer and bassist from Sleep, and one of the most listenable and provocative bands of this genre. Their songs regularly top 10 minutes, and are slow, textured, and more traditionally structured than "Dopesmoker." My favorite Om record, "Conference of the Birds" (1996, Holy Mountain) is 2 songs, "At Giza" and "Flight of the Eagle," whose open, airy tones introduce a theme that runs through the rest of the music in this post. That theme is the power and scope of nature, and the planet itself. I believe it is this theme which draws me to all three of the bands about whom I am writing.

When the name of the band is Earth, one knows the artists are looking to larger inspirations than girls and cars. Earth's first full-length, 1993's "Earth 2," is to drone metal what "Dopesmoker" is to stoner metal. It's 3 songs, 15, 27, and 30 minutes long. However, if I didn't have a track counter, I wouldn't have been able to tell when one ended and the next began. There's no vocals, no keyboards, and although the credits list a percussionist on one song, I noticed nothing that sounded like percussion anywhere. It's all heavily distorted guitar and bass, and it's beautiful. Like, meditate to this beautiful. Totally alien to some, I'm sure. It's mildly maddening to me, but it lines up my brainwaves in some powerful manner. However, later work by Earth is much more listenable, and even accessible to less accustomed listeners. My personal favorite, "Pentastar: In the Style of Demons" (Sub Pop 1996) even has verses & choruses, and ends with a fantastic traditional rock guitar solo, something I've otherwise not heard from Earth.

Finally, I'm sure my friends debate behind my back about whether they're more sick of hearing me talk about: Ron Paul or instrumental post-rock band Pelican. Wtf is instrumental post-rock? Well, there's drums, bass, and lots of guitars. Pelican uses musical forms familiar to both modern rock and metal listeners, but fits neither of those genres well. I've not yet tried it on my in-laws, yet, but I believe even the most traditional classicist could enjoy the musicianship on Pelican's latest album, "City Of Echoes" released this past June on Hydra Head. On this album, Pelican explores the boundary between wild and urban environments, layering unusual chords over one another to create a multidimensional distortion that excites every synapse of my brain. Pelican plays rock music that inspires me to think more openly, more richly, and more sensuously. In fact, I love "City of Echoes" so much that I went to the band's website and bought it. That's the first new CD I've purchased in years, and I feel great about my purchase. In the process of getting familiar with this band, I've listened to them and their labelmates & musical collaborators on Rhapsody. I've befriended and conversed with the band via MySpace, and now I've purchased their physical CD as an act of support. I love having a direct relationship with these artists.

So I say to you, friends, in this long-winded manner, the state of rock and roll is alive and well. These bands are exploring, they're composing, they're performing, and they're making great music. So here's to smart metal music. Let me bang my head till I die.

In an act of Revolutionary Patriotism...

I have changed my party registration from "Green" to "Republican."





That's right, folks. I'm a registered Republican.





Why? Two words: Ron Paul. As a registered Republican, I can vote in the Republican primary election, so I can help Ron Paul get the Republican nomination.



If you are an American with Libertarian leanings, I recommend you do the same.

A Case of the Mondays

A short message about keeping our priorities straight in a confusing world. From some YouTuber. And Fatboy Slim.

DTMB

"Don't tase me, bro."



Yes, yes, we've all heard it. By now it needs no context in this medium. In fact, this meme has already begun to come unstuck from it's context in a decidedly postmodern (that is, quite common) manner. That part's not that interesting.



For the sake of argument, I'm going to adopt a cynical position and assume the UF tasering incident was a set-up, a fiction, a piece of performance art. I'm going to assume the police acted in a perfectly rational manner, and that Andrew Meyer somehow "deserved" to be treated like a violent criminal. Take away all the political and social and legal issues awash in daylight after this video, and the meme remains: "Don't tase me, bro."



I'm sorry, let's add ONE piece of context. What we have here is 2 people, one a "citizen" and one to whom some kind of "authority" has been granted.* This authority allowed one of these people to painfully shock the other person in public, in front of hundreds of others while (and this is key) the recipient of the shock said, loud and clear, "don't tase me, bro." A very obvious imperative, softened and humanized by the familiar term of equality and peace. With apologies for the patriarchal language, if we are brothers, is there any way to morally justify treating our brother as anything less? Would YOU tase your brother when he said to your face, "Don't?" If anyone is calm and clear enough to form a simple sentence, and invoke brotherhood in his request, is that not a clear, universal sign to STOP?



And yet, back in context, there are still those talking about "he deserved it" and "had it coming" and "avoid by submitting." These may be these same folks who celebrate brutal conditions in overcrowded prisons, who champion walls around "nations" to keep people out/in. Those who feel hurt or violated, who need to extract revenge. This is our personal pit of snakes here in the US. I live in one of the most consciously liberal parts of the world here in Portland, and still I swim in violence every day. Even friends consider me extremist for truly believing in nonviolence as a revolutionary way of life.



So, please, don't tase me, bro. Pass it on.








*I use the passive voice there to indicate that I do not know "who" or "what" granted the police this authority. This, however, is another question altogether.

All-Star Band (Rock's 1st Generation)

It is a still, humid night in Biloxi, Mississippi in the 1950s. A keen ear could hear the bass guitar from a quarter mile in either direction along Highway 90. Tonight, the local road house is hosting a fantasy band. It's a moment that never actually happened, but could have. The band in question is The Powerhouse, a classic R & B outfit guaranteed to leave every audience member sweaty and smiling by the end of the evening.
Based in the blues, the rhythm section of The Powerhouse consists of drummer Sam Lay, and bassist Willie Dixon. Both Lay and Dixon participated in the electrification of the blues: Lay played drums on Bob Dylan's first full-band rock album, Highway 61 Revisited, and Dixon was a producer for Chess records, as Chicago electrified the Delta Blues sound. Dixon's Southern style and Lay's irresistible shuffle beats resonate with the Mississippi fans, a salt-and-pepper mixture of young people brought together by the music.
Two musicians occupy more than their fair share of the stage tonight. Grinning broadly and turned to face the audience, Fats Domino's arms bounce up and down on his piano's keys. His compatriot, saxophonist and rabble-rouser Louis Jordan dances on the stage. Jordan hollers at the audience between sax solos, but never misses a beat when his break is next. He swings his saxophone back and forth, playing short bursts of lively notes and looking Domino in the eye, daring him to try and respond. Domino answers easily, amplifying Jordan's phrases with energetic boogie-woogie runs up and down the keyboard.
The only white performer on stage, Scotty Moore stands stage right with his feet together. He is as calm as Domino and Jordan are frantic, but his hands are faster than anything else on stage. Moore's fingers find ever higher notes in the scale, never missing a step. He relaxes between instrumental bars, strums the rhythm for a while, then flicks a switch and starts the next solo. His guitar echoes back and forth within the crowd, sounding like it's coming from everywhere at once. The noise is tremendous, and the crowd can't get enough. Moore finishes a solo, takes a step back, and smiles at Domino and Jordan, who nod and fill in the space left behind with their playful melodies.
At the center of the stage, like the eye of the storm, stands Willie Mae "Big Mama" Thornton, swinging her arms and hips to the beat of Lay and Dixon. She is singing a song written by Dixon, but no one in the audience knows. To the kids bouncing and shaking in front of the stage, Big Mama is the Reverend, and one does well to heed her words, regardless of author. A gospel veteran, Big Mama is used to their attention. She channels it, breathes deep, and belts out the next verse. Her voice is so deep it's almost a growl, and she never holds back. In fact, Big Mama's voice is so powerful she stands two full steps back from the microphone, and still fills the venue.
The Powerhouse have reached the song's climax, and Big Mama turns and glances at Dixon. Lay notices the signal, and he doubles his shuffle beat as Dixon changes keys. Domino and Moore will take solos soon, but first Jordan has something to say. Jordan lets his sax dangle, and jumps to the front of the stage. Without a microphone, Jordan entices to clap along. He hoots and hollers, "Louder!" as he begins his solo. Jordan's improvised melody dances around Dixon's walking bass line; Big Mama can be heard humming along in approval although she is nowhere near a microphone. Jordan holds the last note of his solo into the next measure, and Domino picks up the cue. He plays all over the bass line like Jordan, but he hits the keys fast enough to keep up with Lay's double shuffle. The crowd loves this: not a single person in the road house is sitting down. Following Jordan's lead, he plays just a little too long, signaling to Moore that it's his turn. Moore turns, looks at Big Mama with reverence, and pulls his shoulders up as he doubles and triples Dixon's bass notes. It's clear now why there is one white musician in an all black R & B band: this man has soul. Big Mama is obviously pleased with Moore's chops, and joins the audience in clapping along, again at the insistence of Jordan.
A slight relaxing in Moore's form signals the final, familiar blues-style turnaround ending. The Powerhouse follows suit, holding on to the tension of the song for just another moment. All six musicians are alert and on time, breathing deep into their respective instruments. They are focused on keeping the song alive, and they are all consummate professionals at this task. The kids hope it will never end.

Fresh Air

Presidential Candidates Sen. Mike Gravel and Rep. Ron Paul both visited YouTuber James Kotecki's dorm room recently. This is an amazing and beautiful thing, because these appearances put a seriously human face on next year's election. I hope the next year holds many similar moments of distributed information freedom. It'd be a really fantastic experience to participate in a real national discussion via MySpace and YouTube. However, I really hope these two guys find a way to distance themselves from the two big parties. Truth be told, I think a third-party ticket with Gravel and Paul could have a real chance of winning. My real hesitation has everything to do with awareness of unearned privilege: how can I vote for a white man if I can symbolically vote for change by voting for a black man or a woman. Because as much as I like Barack, I'm cynical because I liked Bill Clinton in the same way, and I felt a little let down by his politics in the end.
As in the last election, though, I really wish there was a stronger anti-war voice. Not just an anti-this-war voice, which seems to be plentiful, now that it's statistically popular. It's hard for me to trust any politician who was in support of the Iraq war only until they heard it wasn't cool anymore. Where are the candidates who have concrete ideas about our national educational system? Where are the candidates willing to talk about the negative influence of fundamentalist Christianity on American scientists, not to mention global health initiatives? Where are the candidates willing to say words like deescalation, voluntary disarming, self-defense-only, or peace dividend?
Maybe the underlying question is wondering: Where are the candidates not tied to multinational corporate interests? Check out these two videos, and let's talk about whether either of these men would make good presidents.



PS: The ads are just an experiment for a bigger project. We'll see..

Be careful, I think it's contagious

After my last entry, I slept, and woke feeling not really myself. It seemed like it would just be one of those days when I was unable to find my happy. No blame or object for the feeling, some days are just like that. I'm sure you're familiar with this product. I got up, had breakfast, and went to class anyway. Later, though, Eric Clapton came on my mp3 player, singing Sonny Thompson's "I'm Tore Down," and a nice little smile lept to my face, seemingly without my invoking it. That's when I realized how I had been feeling all day: I had The Blues! Spend all afternoon listening to Elmore James, and wake up the next morning in a funk curable only by raucous slide guitar and the familiar 12 bars. I guess really feeling the blues is a worthwhile part of learning the history of rock music.


A friend here in our apartment building has fallen on some hard times, and it's quite sad to see. If he didn't have family in Boston, or a working car to drive East, today would be his first day living homeless. The landlord's people are here cleaning out a seeming lifetime's worth of stuff, and he's not even close to ready to leave. I feel quite helpless in the face of the sort of things this man is facing. All I know is there but for Grace go I. I did what I could for a brother, shared my web connection for months, patronized his yard sales, invited him to every party we've had, and chatted with him every day. He was the longest resident of the building, something like 10 years here. I wish you safe, happy travels, and a renewed life in Boston.

Rock and Roll is hard work!

I just wrote a review of Elmore James album "Dust My Broom" for my History of Rock and Roll class. We have to write in the historical present, as if the album just came out, and not reference other artists. This is a big challenge, to describe the music on it's own merits, so it was a great exercise in creativity. I got to know the album pretty well, as well, of course, and found a few gems I seriously enjoyed. This damn thing took me forever, though, which is fine. Sure was great to listen to this dope odl blues, though!

Kurt and Kurt

It's not often I'm moved by the death of a celebrity, and even less often that I am inclined to comment on said death. As I'm sure you know, Kurt Vonnegut died yesterday. I read all his books up to "Timequake," and I remember them as a single body of funny, insightful, sincere writing. His passage is bittersweet, for by the day of his death he had lived to see his art having real meaning in a culture suffering from a dearth thereof.

I'm reminded of the last time I was moved by the death of a celebrity. Kurt Cobain died in 1993, and I cried that day, too. Cobain left us a body of insightful, sincere writing as well, although it was too sincere to ever really be funny. I'm sure fans of both Cobain and Vonnegut will take exception to my daring to compare them, but at 30 I happen to be the perfect age to be feeling the influence of these two artists, each of whom, in their own way, perfectly describe the modern age as what happens when great hope and great fear must learn to coexist. When they coexist well, we get art like "Smells Like Teen Spirit" and "Breakfast of Champions," and when they do not, we get art like "Scentless Apprentice" and "Player Piano." I believe Vonnegut and Cobain saw no ultimate difference between contemporary hope and contemporary fear. This vision sustained Vonnegut through a lifetime of whiskey, allowing his creations time to mature and ferment, but it killed Cobain as soon as he tried to raise a child. I make to claim to understanding why Vonnegut lived so long and well, and Cobain so short and painfully. I simply observe that this is so, and listen to what Kurt and Kurt have said.

So Cheers to you both, Kurt Vonnegut and Kurt Cobain. Thanks for all the fantastic art. My life is better, more interesting and more colorful because you were here.

Ultimate

This is the last day of my "twenties," and I couldn't be cooler with that. I feel like I've done my 20s, and done them well. I'll continue to count my blessings through this celebration, and the future is quite exciting!

Uncomitted

I'm here, in school, and it's back in full swing. Thankfully there's lots of outlets in the cafeteria, and lots of cool geeks around. Classes rule, and I haven't even gotten to the cushy one yet (at least I hope it's cushy). I'm happy about the topics I've met even after one lecture, and actually looking forward to my homework. Truthfully, I'm just not comitted yet - I'm distracted with thoughts of visiting brothers and milestone karaoke songs. What makes it okay is that since this is the first week I'm shirking, there's not really any chance of running up against deadlines. No, I intend to learn a lot this term. Just as soon as I celebrate being alive!