Why you should dance to the Dirtbombs…

Well, mostly because they are just fantastic.

Mick Collins, the mastermind behind the masterpieces. Been around Detroit for decades. Leader of many bands. The Godfather. But this incarnation is my favorite. The classic quote, which I can't remember who coined (post if you know) is that the Dirtbombs are akin to David Ruffin of the Temptations kicking Iggy out of the Stooges and fronting the band. This may have merits as an analogy, but is an oversimplification at best. 2 bassists, 2 drummers, and Mick front and center on guitar and vocals. The band has a complex history with many personnel changes, which can be read in detail here. Their music is roadmap of musical history, with referencing signposts everywhere. One whole album is a tribute to Collins' musical heroes. Another double CD is a collection of 7" vinyl singles, their preferred method of release. Collins swears that the band was conceived to only release 7-inchers. We're lucky he caved. Here's another I just love.

This is DANCE music. When I leave this show, I will be coated with sweat, and legally super-high on my own endorphins. They are coming to a town near you in the next couple of months, and should be experienced live.

You can hear that live sound, along with 3 studio cuts, including the amazing cover of "Ode to a Black Man" originally performed by Thin Lizzy's Phil Lynott. More live sound is available from WFMU in NJ here if you have RealPlayer. You can see some live performance here along with a great interview (you have to press "voir la vidéo" under the picture of the smiling Mr. Collins in shades, and have RealPlayer), but the audio sucks. Mick is a hilarious raconteur, who is very entertaining either speaking or playing. Several interviews are here. Check out some photos.

But really, you should just come and dance. See you there!

The Aggression did not stand…

It's true. I bowled (slightly) better than my wife. More importantly, I (barely) bowled all 4 games 100 or over.

She had: 114, 132, 104, 89.
I had: 139, 100, 122, 132.

I would write more about other things that are important, like Disc Golf (my other sports love), the Dirtbombs (coming soon to a town near you, and why you should go dance your little ass off), the incredible book I'm reading about the SF Earthquake of '06, what really happened during that bizarre hammock accident in '97, make links to why Cheney was probably drunk during that hunting accident and should be prosecuted for something, dammit.

But work pounded me into very small bits of stuff stuck to the bottom of your shoes, and I can barely move.

So I'm not going to write anything else.

Tonight.

Senses Working Overtime

Senses Working Overtime:

Aural 5:
1. Broken Social Scene: All I can say is that anything might happen, and it does. You never know if you'll get a sudden horn section, or a disintegration into noise, or a complete emotional tone change. Like they’re playing in a wind tunnel with lots of shit flying around, and bashing into them, but this is a good thing. Drummer is some kind of animal with more than 2 arms. Or there’s just more than one drummer. There’s like sixteen people in the band. Anyone who can make you want to sing along to this lyric is on to something: “When I was a kid/You fucked me in the ass/But I took my pen to my paper/And I passed you/You know I love the shit/Cause the shit tastes so good/I’ve got pastures waiting in the woods.” Try “It’s All Gonna Break” or “Ibi Dreams of Pavement”
2. Edan: The record is Beauty and the Beat. So maybe I’m wrong, and drugs ARE good. Fractured, wall-of-sound super-fresh flow psychedelic hip-hop. Just how many people can you name-check in one song? Who is this guy? Ask Edan. He will tell you. If you file-share, try: “Rock and Roll” and “Torture Chamber.”
3. Ali Farka Toure and Toumani Diabate: In the Heart of the Moon. These are kora and guitar duets. This is like early-Sunday-morning, spiritual, I'm-glad-I'm-alive-music. I don’t know what the heck is going on Mali, but I sure wish this was as popular as Ashlee Simpson. Aw shit, just go buy the damn thing. These guys deserve even the 13 cents they make on the record sale. Besides they’ll never tour.
4. Bizarre white trash family picnic with compulsory Winnebago for each member at Lagoon Valley Park in Vacaville.. They all had these miniature motorized gas-powered boats and race-cars “It’s an offense to the ear.” Nails on a blackboard kinda shit.
5. Patients where I work all yelling for something at the same time. This keeps echoing even when I sleep.

Visual 5:
1. “City of God” and “The Constant Gardener” directed by Fernando Mereilles. These two movies are messing with my head. Run out and see them now. City of God is about youth life in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro. Visually hyperkinetic, dextrous narrative style, tremendous energy, not for the faint of heart. If you can’t stand art that looks ugliness in the face, but shows the beauty present as well, then this is not for you. Gardener is an adaptation of a LeCarre novel with Ralph Fiennes and Rachel Weisz. It’s definitely more Hollywood than City of God, but not by much. Haunting moments that I will never clean out of my head. Gorgeous. Both of ‘em. If you rent it, invite me over, I’m serious.
2. This dry erase board (see below). I think that is somehow communicating the whole of events simultaneously in a way that makes me feel angry and weak at the same time.
3. Thumbsucker: Mike Mills film about troubled youth with typically fucked up situation. Very simple resolutions to complex emotional problems, but very good at reflecting internal states visually. Funny and sad.
4. Sundown HWY 80 Westbound near Vallejo on 2/11.
5. The open palm visual from the David Lynch film Dune. The movie's a piece of shit, but I used to hallucinate that image all the time, back when I hallucinated regularly. But I still see it sometimes, even when not hallucinating. And never when I'm driving. And certainly not when I'm working. Oh, forget it.

Olfactory 5:
1. The six or seven dead skunks I’ve seen on the road in the last two days.
2. A crazy-stale cigar I smoked on Sunday.
3. My dog’s farts. I don’t know what he ate, but it’s crazy.
4. The insane mélange of “brown patrol” toxic pollution where I work. Think about it. You’ll figure it out.
5. My wonderful wife’s kitchen. It just always smell so damn good in the house. Unless the dog farted.

Tactile/Proprioception 5:
1. The release I had in my right buttock when I bowled that strike today.
2. My super-bitchen DGA Reef putt and approach disc my friend J’sh gave me, when it left my hand, and went right in the chain-net from 25 ft. away.
3. My doggie’s soft face fur on my lips.
4. My wife's hand on mine while we drive.
5. Very hot showers after work.

Flava 5:
1. Fruit Floes (Trad’r Joe’s popsicles) No shit, they’re awesome.
2. Having my wife’s great dinner altered when I heard George Carlin’s version of the very dirty joke in “The Aristocrats.” Do not attempt to view while eating.
3. The dessert: (during Thumbsucker after viewing change) Strawberries blended into Vanilla ice cream, with homemade caramel on top, served with these full-size ginger snaps.
4. That same crazy stale cigar. I think it’s still in my mouth.
5. Popcorn with yeast rocks.

Other int'restin' Shit on "the internets"

Since I started doing this bl-bl-blah-blog thing, I've been reading some other blogs. One of the better ones is Fimicoulous. Rex Sorgatz spends lots of time putting together links to some great stuff. One thing that caught my eye was his year-end list of lists. Check his out. But I’m gonna cherry-pick some links that tickled me.

For one, drunk driving is really unattractive, as proved by this list of the best 2005 mugshots.

Secondly, the top ten words that people sought definitions of from online dictionaries in 2005 is awfully revealing.

Cute pictures of doggies are, well, still cute.

Be sure to see the banished words list, for perhaps the definitive statement on FEMA.

For the entire news cycle zeitgeist in graphic form, check out this dry erase board for all 2005 as a shot to the brain, but be sure you click the close-up to get all the detail. It makes you wonder why we’re not in the streets with pitchforks and torches crying for the blood of our leaders.

Speaking of which, another thing I saw on Sorgatz’s site was a link to the preview of the new Sofia Coppola film, "Marie Antoinette." The incongruity of watching Kirsten Dunst frolic and cavort in 17th century wigs and bodices to the sound of New Order’s “Age of Consent” (I think) has a certain sick pleasure but what’s next? Reenactments of teenage Khmer Rouge guerillas purging the cities and partying to the tune of the DK’s "Holiday In Cambodia”, or should it just be footage of us bombing everyone else to the tune of our national anthem?

Bilious today, are we?

Yes, most days, I'm afraid.

Another sermon from the Church of Bowling

Well, sports fans, church was in session this Sunday morning, and while no souls were saved, the sins of the last horrible attempt (0 games over 100) have been expiated.

4 games for me: 115, 112, a lapse into a 98, and a recovery for 136. My all-time high remains a 143.

4 games for my lovely wife: 125, 119, 142 (with 2 pairs of double strikes), and a late fall-off to a 92. Her all time-high remains 163.

As you can see, the numbers do not lie, she continues to kick my ass. "This aggression will not stand, dude."

Stay tuned.

Paper Route

So I have this paper route which I guess I deliver by automobile, a black sports car. And I get the normal paper for that day + the supplemental. And the paper is normal, but the supplemental for each paper is completely different. One is the size of a comic book. Another is a giant coffee table book. Another is a map. Another a large magazine, the size of the the old Interview, another a box with handles and flaps, sort of a pop-up book. No guidance as to which one goes to each customer. And I'm late, for I keep thinking and calculating how long the entire route is going to complete. It keeps getting longer and longer, because as I assemble each paper ( the news and the supplement), I stop and have to consider each one, because folding is different each time. I begin to stop and look at each of the supplements, and each unique one draws you in. I stop and read one, the comic book, and in it, there are no word balloons, the action is silent. In it, I'm in an large subway station like Grand Central in New York. I walk to a train, and I notice the people around me. As each one moves just out of the appropriate range, the begin to disintegrate, first their features fall away, then their muscles and skeletons lose their coordination, and collapse in a jellified jumble. I go down the stairs to the platform, some of them are just ahead, some behind, and then I pass a mirror and I notice that I am slowly discorporate, my features are falling away, and my dust is being inhaled by the patrons around me, and they know that the proximity to me is what's keeping them whole. They run to keep up, not get too far behind, sniffing the air desperately. But I am slowly being consumed. I start awake, realize that it's a full five minutes later and there is still all these papers with the bizarre supplements to be folded. If I don't hurry it will be halfway through the morning before I'm finished. The next supplement is hard cardboard, about three feet high, and shaped like the lid for a grand piano. It's printed black on black, like a Warhol album cover. I open the hinged lid. I see photos with word balloons. In it, I'm in the airport, and trying to find the gate, people are following me again, the same people, and I'm beginning to recognize individuals from the last time. We approach the gate, and I'm paged. I pick up the phone. A voice tells me to……

These kids today…

are apparently bowling. At least, in NY and NJ. Thanks for the tip, Matt.

And at least for the next week or so, you can read about it here, if you have a free account with the New York Times.

You all must bowl…NOW.

Yes, it's true. I have become obsessed with bowling.

Best score: 143.

I know, it's not very good. But I broke my right wrist in 4 places in a bizarre hammock accident (another post), and even though it hurts, I really love it.

I have my own ball, shoes, and vintage bowling bag (picture to follow).

I will attempt to beat my own high score tomorrow.

Why bowling? Everything about it.

Visual: Long glossy lanes with matching gutters on side, geometric configuration of pins at the end, the ball reflecting everything around it, hurling toward the pins.

Sound: Very rich. Bam! The ball hits the lane, Crash! the pins fly apart, the sounds of the rolling balls. Lots of exhortations, cries of pleasure, and congratulations. Much Hi-Fiving.

Cultural: As sports go, it's not particularly intimidating on an athletic level. Just about every type of person can be found there. Seniors, kids, teens, big heavyset people, every ethnic stripe. You have to look silly at times to bowl well. In a way, and I mean this only in the most complimentary sense, it is the ultimate "loser" sport. This is not to say those who pursue this are losers. But to have this much focus on balls and pins is vaguely retarded, and to do so can be a very fulfilling act. It is a "necessary distraction." Feeling macho about how much you jog, golf, box, bike, or whatever is sort of culturally expected. Being macho about your bowling score is fucking hilarious. Who are you trying to kid? Unless you are an obsessive, and go alone, it's very social. I seem to see far more camaraderie on the lanes than competitiveness (though that's there too), and most people are rooting each other on.

Internal: There is something incredibly gratifying about the pins all going down for a strike, or picking up a difficult pin for a strike. It requires a discipline of both concentration, and physical control of your body to replicate the correct way to throw the ball over and over again. For those of us with issues around self-discipline, it mirrors internal struggles to be consistent, and to "do it right." In analyzing your form, you have to consider physics, the mass of the ball, the friction of the waxed wood against the ball, the ways that pins respond to directional force. It can be contemplative.

Physical: It has a very nice slow endorphin burn. Long warm-up period, and becomes actually exercise without you being aware of it. At the end, I'm sweaty, feel great, especially if my wrist doesn't hurt too much. I would consider bowling after a long day of work nursing, even when semi-exhausted, when more taxing exercise is impossible.

Yes, dude, the Big Lebowski is one of my favorite films. See the opening credits for the sublime combination of ridiculous expressions, mental focus, elation, and physical grace that all seems to take place within a couple of seconds.

You might think that this is all just crap, but that's uh well…like your opinion, man.

The Great Escape

My Dad sent me an e-mail about how much he has always liked this, and for once I agree with him.

While still very Hollywood, it has some great sequences. Something about James Garner and Steve McQueen really stands out when you watch this movie. Somehow they bring a very natural acting style, that none of the other principals have, even their peers that were there own age such as Bronson or Coburn. For example, the bootleg liquor still sequence. All of the actors saying “Wow.” is very stilted, and kitschy, but McQueen brings a less stagy energy to it, that is funny, even though the whole scene and every one else in it are hackneyed. McQueen was already a star from "Wanted: Dead or Alive", but this film was what convinced Hollywood to give him leading roles.

For a more intense experience, though maybe not as "fun", if you’re willing to sit through the pacing and the French subtitles, check out “Le Trou” directed by Jacques Becker. It's the most intense breaking-out-of-prison film I’ve ever seen. The smell of stale persperation, sewer, heavy air, the desperation of the men, exhaustion…everything is fully realized.

Le Trou: Info on this amazing film is here, here, and an interesting article on the use of sound in this film is here. I'll probably mouth off about this on this blog more sometime soon.

The Great Escape: Basics, and the actual historical basis for the characters in this film here (I always thought it was fictional).

McQueen stuff here.