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Posts for the date of Thursday, September 16, 2004
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 6:52 PM |
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This Year's Primate
New Elvis song (and video . . . dig the imitation of the This Year's Model cover at the beginning). Disc(s) due Tuesday.
This song has grown on me, to be honest. And, I've heard from both the loyal and the pessimistic that The Delivery Man is his rawest, most enjoyable work in years. Of course, I'm a man who named his website after a song from one of Elvis' lest lauded works (though, oddly, one of my favorites).
So Elvis will hold me over until SMiLE is released the following week. And then, live-wise, it's Bobby Bare at Off Broadway on the 29th and Adam Marsland, with the incomparable Evie Sands on guitar, on the 1st. Adam will appreciate your patronage. Check out his site for an MP3 of "Other Than Me". Well worth a few megabytes for the download. Groovy organ too. His new disc includes appearances by Darian Sahanaja and Probyn Gregory of the Wondermints and Brian Wilson's band, Stew and Heidi from, well, Stew, Robbie Rist of Cockeyed Ghost and too many other bands to count and a few other notables. Should be a good listen when it drops.
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 12:02 PM |
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Ten Years Gone
WARNING: If you are offended by strong language, please don’t read this. There will be several f-bombs dropped throughout while quoting a few of the characters I encountered during the living of this story.
Last night I saw Wilco at the Fabulous Fox Theater in St. Louis. Our seats were pretty good. Further to the left than I would have preferred sonically, but we were damn close to the stage. Close enough to see Jeff Tweedy twitch in time to the music, but not so close that we could inspect his nose hair.
After having some drinks with family and friends, we arrived at the theater a little later than I had hoped and missed most of the Calexico. Though we arrived late we were able to hear their amazing version of Love’s “Alone Again Or”.
Behind us were a few generic college boys, whom I will call “Generic College Boy 1” and “Generic College Boy 2”. In the middle of Calexico’s set, particularly during “Alone Again Or”, Generic College Boy 1 commented, “This music is really gay.” As if the statement weren’t enough, Generic College Boy 2 yelled it out.
Wilco hit the stage in a cloud of reverb and atonal noise. It was great. They played the majority of their new album, a favorite from the Australian EP and even dusted off one of their Guthrie tunes. Not a single song from Summerteeth [CORRECTION: I forgot about "Shot in the Arm", so the previous statement was incorrect.] was played, a bare minimum from Being There and, most surprisingly, one Uncle Tupelo tune and “Casino Queen”, which I still don’t like.
Here’s where I realized I was ten years gone. Half way through the concert my knees started to hurt from standing. My left knee, due to an old injury, seemed to be showing the signs of arthritis. And, worse, my ears started to hurt from our proximity to the monitors. Once I could have stuck my head inside the reverb tank of Eddie Van Halen’s Marshall stack. Now I was wondering how I was going to be able to conduct a conference call the next day with raging tinnitus.
About the Generic College boys. I should note that they were not the only ones in the audience. The place was crawling with them. They all wore their uniform, shorts, white t-shirt, ball cap and flip flops. Each sported the same haircut and none seemed to have the personal sense of self to realize they were in a public place. Off to our right was an androgynous man/woman who apparently took enough Ecstasy to make her not only love everyone, but to spur Germany to reunify for a second time.
All through the concert, GCB 1 and 2 kept pleading to hear “Heavy Metal Drummer.” They begged, they pleaded, they called upon a higher power, and they discussed loudly how it was their supreme wish that Wilco play “Heavy Metal Drummer”. From what I understand, if Wilco played “Heavy Metal Drummer” they would not only die happy, but several species that have been extinct for millennia would miraculously come back to life.
A sample conversation:GCB 1: I hope they play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 2: Me too. That would totally rock.
GCB 1: Totally.
As we approached the final song of the first set, the GCBs desires grew to a fever pitch. All of a sudden “Heavy Metal Drummer” became not only their deepest desire and primary focus, but it became their sole purpose for life.
As a song would wind down and the band would prepare for the next song, the GCBs would start to freak out.
GCB 1: Oh my God. He’s getting an electric guitar. A fucking electric guitar.
GCB 2: Holy fuck. This is fucking it. They’re going to play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 1: Let’s yell out the title in case they forgot about it.
GCB 2: Good idea. Let me adjust the toe strap in my flip flop first. Okay.
GCB 1 & 2: “Heavy Metal Drummer”! “Heavy Metal Drummer”!
GCB 1: Wait. What song is that? Is it “Heavy Metal Drummer”?
GCB 2: Dude. No. It’s fucking “Spiders”. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
They were so worked up that they could no longer speak without saying the word “fuck”.
Then the band left the stage. Anyone who has been to a concert knows the routine. Band leaves, you cheer, band comes back. Better still, due to where we were sitting, we could see the band standing off stage waiting and chatting before coming back. The GCBs were oblivious to this fact.
GCB 1: Dude. Are they done?GCB 2: I guess so.
GCB 1: They didn’t fucking play “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 2: How could they fucking forget?
GCB 1: Holy fuck. Holy fuck! They’re coming back! They’re going to play more songs!
GCB 2: Fucking awesome.
Wilco’s encores were the highlight of the night. They drug out some of their older work, and they trotted out the poppier side of Wilco, where the heavier side was playing for the entire first set. But, there was no “Heavy Metal Drummer”. They did not play the song at all. The GCBs were so wrapped up in their “Heavy Metal Drummer” hysteria, that they did not hear the highlight of the evening, for me at least, a cover of the obscure Bill Faye song “Be Not So Fearful.” I was so excited by this, as a matter of fact, that when Tweedy announced it, I whooped. I was the only one in the theater to do so. A fact that did not go unnoticed by my companions and they teased me relentlessly.
Having seen some previous set lists, when the opening chords of “The Lonely 1” started to play, I knew the evening was over. Alas, the GCBs were in chaos.
GCB 1: Dude. What song is this?
GCB 2: I don’t know. It’s not fucking “Heavy Metal Drummer”.
GCB 1: It’s fucking not.
GCB 2: I haven’t heard this song before. What is it?
I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned around and had to inform them. It’s “The Lonely 1”, I told them. They hadn’t heard of it. I told them it was on Being There. They hadn’t heard of it. I told them the previous song was “New Madrid” and was originally done by Uncle Tupelo. They hadn’t heard of them.
By the time the lights came up, the GCBs were gone. They were probably in their car tearfully listening to “Heavy Metal Drummer”, thinking of what could have been.
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Posts for the date of Monday, September 13, 2004
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 2:08 PM |
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101 Reasons I Won't Buy the Star Wars DVDs
First, Han shoots first, damn it.
Second, Mr. Lucas, you fat, bearded bastard . . . I want the original cuts. I don't care if you don't like them. I don't care if they don't match your original vision. So what if you couldn't do it the way you wanted? It's not like the Beatles redo their classic albums.
Wait. Check that.
But, my point is, those original versions are what built your bank account. Not the Special Editions. The originals, with bad matte shots and Han shooting first, you arrogant prick.
Star Wars represented my childhood. I spent hours pretending to be Han Solo not because of the killer special effects. I did it because the stories and characters, for reasons that are beyond me now, connected with me. They meant something to me. And the changes you've made to all three movies didn't.
I mean, seriously, what's with the ego? You had a few hit movies, one artistic success and a bunch of crap ever since. You can't direct and you write for shit. So stop it and give me what I want. The original cuts.
It's not like we can even make up our minds about it. You've shelved the originals. You've taken them away from those of us who have lined your pockets with gold and built your ego into a giant albatross that we fans have to wear round our necks. An albatross roughly the size of you.
So, therefore, Mr. Lucas, I won't buy your movies. Nor will I rent them. It's too bad, too. Because I wanted my kids to see them. But they aren't what I fell in love with. And I'm not willing to give them a second-rate version to make you happy.
Oh yeah, one more thing, Mr. Lucas the Hutt. Bite me.
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 6:49 AM |
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(3) comments
Al Don't You Go and Cut Your Hair
The latest in a series of Al Gore's quest for a new image.
Al Gore. Former Vice President. All around smart guy. And, now, mid-nineteenth century poet.
I give you Al Gore:
And his spiritual other half, William Cullen Bryant:
All Al needs is some mutton chops and he's ready to go. Go Al go! Personally, I think you could have won the election with the beard a few years ago. Very U.S. Grant.
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