Dispatches from the New Massivest
Hey kids…long time no see. The days off were a nice change of pace, but it’s even better to be back. I missed ya. Lots to blog today!
So we survived the weekend snowstorm, or rather, the driving back home after the storm. Inch-thick ice and an eight-percent grade simply do not mix. But the trip was way worth it. Resort towns are weird places. I always enjoy going there, though I usually find that much of the touristy crap is, of course, just that. And we’re usually the only ones in town not there for the skiing. (I’ve skied once, liked it, and want to again, but it never seems to work out, and really, I’m not all that concerned about it. On vacation, more often than not, I’m content to just sit on my ass and relax anyway.)
The restaurant meals were pretty good, but nothing spectacular. Much better were the Cajun stuffed peppers I cooked up on Saturday night, if I do say so myself. We swam in the year-round, heated outdoor pool, what a very good feeling: warm waters in a gentle mountain snowfall. And it was our first lengthy trip with Crystal, who was a very good girl, esp. in the car on the way there and back, all cramped-up in the backseat with Jodi and Joe.
Ever since I got on this psych kick, I’ve been wanting a session…a listening session…a night with just one, maybe two people, where we flip records and drink beer and that’s it. Such a modest goal, I thought. But each time I tried to make something like that happen, it just never did, for whatever reason. This made Friday night’s after hours with Joe that much sweeter. We had fire, we had Pabst, and we had Cash, baby. We poured out a little liquor for The Man in Black and kicked over Life, a collection hand-picked by the man himself, the fourth disc in the Love God Murder series. From there it was Rejoicing in the Hands and all the inspired genius of one Devendra Banhart. And finally, there was The Kathmandu Sessions of Danny Ben-Israel, famed Israeli hippie, the last man standing. In my last post, so long ago, I promised more on Danny-Boy:
Anyway, Joe also turned me on to this AMAZING Ray Charles DVD, a 1963 performance from Sao Paulo, originally shown on Brazilian TV. Two full sets with his sprawling orchestra, filmed in black and white, with Brazilian commercials intact. What an awesome performer and bandleader, at the height of his powers (and heroin addiction!) The following year, he would be arrested for possession and quit junk cold turkey, while Brazil would become a military dictatorship, soon to imprison the revolutionary likes of Gilberto Gil and Caetano Veloso.
Saturday night we watched Something’s Gotta Give, which is a far cry from Psych-Out, but a fun movie nonetheless. There, I said it! I did enjoy this movie, much more than I thought I would. It’s just something about Jack and Diane, I think. Or I just like the idea of Randall Patrick McMurphy getting’ it on with Annie Hall.
We also listened to Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music and loads of Gillian Welch and watched Elf and the first half of The Howlin’ Wolf Story. There’s another phenomenal performer for ya, though I wish it had been pure concert footage like the Ray show instead of a documentary. Oh well. A bit of weird synchronicity though—at one point the movie referred to one Rosco Gordon, a man with whom I had been entirely unfamiliar until earlier that same day. The previous day’s mail, which I had opened only hours before, featured a package from Dualtone Records bearing Gordon’s latest, posthumous release for review in my Americana column in Skyscraper. Go Jung!
So I took Joe to Black & Read on Sunday, and while there, I ran into another friend of mine named Joe. Don’t even know his last name yet, or, more likely, I did but simply can’t remember, but I met this dude several years back through Desi and the extended PMFS crowd. Cool guy, a few years younger than me, no one I knew very well. I was sort of surprised to find him scouring over the jazz section, with a David Axelrod record under his arm. Likewise, his familiarity with Cromagnon and Black Widow quite astounded me. For some reason I just assumed he was into your typical emo and punk rock stuff—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but it sure is nice when people surprise you! So give me a call, Joe, and we’ll have ourselves a listening session!
Elsewhere…
BUSH_W32.jesusdoom Virus Wreaks Havoc: Virus crosses barrier from computers to humans! How about some ideas for Democrats? A poem to the Dems, a bit of Kerry bashing, blogs, cartoons, satire, Bushlibs, and more. If you lean to the left and want more stories like this, sign up for the democracymeansyou.com mailing list. Or, if you like your liberalism a little meatier, you should sign up with The Nation. Editor Katrina vanden Heuvel on the demonstrations in the Ukraine and yet another example of the rank hypocrisy of this administration:
Check out Blastitude.
First there was the $28,000 Virgin Mary grilled cheese sandwich. And now, TopFive.com’s Top 5 Lesser-Known Food Miracles:
5> The George Michael Pulled Pork Sandwich
4> The Abe Vigoda/Erik Estrada Plate of Fish & Chips
3> The Clarence Thomas High-Protein Coca Cola
2> The Edvard Munch "I Scream" Sandwich
1> The bag of tiny colorful coated-chocolate candies with Mary Magdelene's initials inscribed on each one
**Guilty pleasure of the day: Desperate Housewives. Thank you, Tivo.
Tonight’s playlist:
Milton Nascimento / Lo Borges – Clube Da Esquina
Siloah s/t
Junior Byles – Beat Down Babylon
Django Reinhardt – s/t
Terminal Lovers – Drama Pit and Loan
Captain Beefheart – Spotlight Kid
Black Widow – Sacrifice
Spires That in the Sunset Rise – s/t
The Mandrake Memorial – s/t
Neil Diamond - Hot August Night
So we survived the weekend snowstorm, or rather, the driving back home after the storm. Inch-thick ice and an eight-percent grade simply do not mix. But the trip was way worth it. Resort towns are weird places. I always enjoy going there, though I usually find that much of the touristy crap is, of course, just that. And we’re usually the only ones in town not there for the skiing. (I’ve skied once, liked it, and want to again, but it never seems to work out, and really, I’m not all that concerned about it. On vacation, more often than not, I’m content to just sit on my ass and relax anyway.)
The restaurant meals were pretty good, but nothing spectacular. Much better were the Cajun stuffed peppers I cooked up on Saturday night, if I do say so myself. We swam in the year-round, heated outdoor pool, what a very good feeling: warm waters in a gentle mountain snowfall. And it was our first lengthy trip with Crystal, who was a very good girl, esp. in the car on the way there and back, all cramped-up in the backseat with Jodi and Joe.
Ever since I got on this psych kick, I’ve been wanting a session…a listening session…a night with just one, maybe two people, where we flip records and drink beer and that’s it. Such a modest goal, I thought. But each time I tried to make something like that happen, it just never did, for whatever reason. This made Friday night’s after hours with Joe that much sweeter. We had fire, we had Pabst, and we had Cash, baby. We poured out a little liquor for The Man in Black and kicked over Life, a collection hand-picked by the man himself, the fourth disc in the Love God Murder series. From there it was Rejoicing in the Hands and all the inspired genius of one Devendra Banhart. And finally, there was The Kathmandu Sessions of Danny Ben-Israel, famed Israeli hippie, the last man standing. In my last post, so long ago, I promised more on Danny-Boy:
Perhaps this is the hippie to cure Doug of his phobia!A Tel-Aviv native, he started out playing in an IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) band and achieved some minor fame in Israel. In ’68 he embarked on an eye-opening trip across Europe, from which he returned a changed man. This inspired his only officially released album, the highly controversial and subsequently banned Chantarish 3 ¼, aka Bullshit 3 ¼, sung entirely in Hebrew, which I haven’t heard yet (Take it away, Julian...).
The Kathmandu Sessions are out-there, seven wild tracks Ben-Israel laid down in English for a release in the States that never came to fruition. Let me tell ya, as a fan of the Acid Mothers Temple and the freeform freakout, rarely are such tracks as melodically and lyrically memorable as this. "The Hippies of Today are the Assholes of Tomorrow." Prescient as hell. ‘Nuff said.
Anyway, Joe also turned me on to this AMAZING Ray Charles DVD, a 1963 performance from Sao Paulo, originally shown on Brazilian TV. Two full sets with his sprawling orchestra, filmed in black and white, with Brazilian commercials intact. What an awesome performer and bandleader, at the height of his powers (and heroin addiction!) The following year, he would be arrested for possession and quit junk cold turkey, while Brazil would become a military dictatorship, soon to imprison the revolutionary likes of Gilberto Gil and Caetano Veloso.
Saturday night we watched Something’s Gotta Give, which is a far cry from Psych-Out, but a fun movie nonetheless. There, I said it! I did enjoy this movie, much more than I thought I would. It’s just something about Jack and Diane, I think. Or I just like the idea of Randall Patrick McMurphy getting’ it on with Annie Hall.
We also listened to Harry Smith's Anthology of American Folk Music and loads of Gillian Welch and watched Elf and the first half of The Howlin’ Wolf Story. There’s another phenomenal performer for ya, though I wish it had been pure concert footage like the Ray show instead of a documentary. Oh well. A bit of weird synchronicity though—at one point the movie referred to one Rosco Gordon, a man with whom I had been entirely unfamiliar until earlier that same day. The previous day’s mail, which I had opened only hours before, featured a package from Dualtone Records bearing Gordon’s latest, posthumous release for review in my Americana column in Skyscraper. Go Jung!
So I took Joe to Black & Read on Sunday, and while there, I ran into another friend of mine named Joe. Don’t even know his last name yet, or, more likely, I did but simply can’t remember, but I met this dude several years back through Desi and the extended PMFS crowd. Cool guy, a few years younger than me, no one I knew very well. I was sort of surprised to find him scouring over the jazz section, with a David Axelrod record under his arm. Likewise, his familiarity with Cromagnon and Black Widow quite astounded me. For some reason I just assumed he was into your typical emo and punk rock stuff—not that there’s anything wrong with that—but it sure is nice when people surprise you! So give me a call, Joe, and we’ll have ourselves a listening session!
Elsewhere…
BUSH_W32.jesusdoom Virus Wreaks Havoc: Virus crosses barrier from computers to humans! How about some ideas for Democrats? A poem to the Dems, a bit of Kerry bashing, blogs, cartoons, satire, Bushlibs, and more. If you lean to the left and want more stories like this, sign up for the democracymeansyou.com mailing list. Or, if you like your liberalism a little meatier, you should sign up with The Nation. Editor Katrina vanden Heuvel on the demonstrations in the Ukraine and yet another example of the rank hypocrisy of this administration:
The blog revolution sweeps across China.A Russian friend once said to me, "You Americans are an odd people. You love our liberals, but you don't like your own liberals." He added, "You should support your local liberals too."
Check out Blastitude.
First there was the $28,000 Virgin Mary grilled cheese sandwich. And now, TopFive.com’s Top 5 Lesser-Known Food Miracles:
5> The George Michael Pulled Pork Sandwich
4> The Abe Vigoda/Erik Estrada Plate of Fish & Chips
3> The Clarence Thomas High-Protein Coca Cola
2> The Edvard Munch "I Scream" Sandwich
1> The bag of tiny colorful coated-chocolate candies with Mary Magdelene's initials inscribed on each one
**Guilty pleasure of the day: Desperate Housewives. Thank you, Tivo.
Tonight’s playlist:
Milton Nascimento / Lo Borges – Clube Da Esquina
Siloah s/t
Junior Byles – Beat Down Babylon
Django Reinhardt – s/t
Terminal Lovers – Drama Pit and Loan
Captain Beefheart – Spotlight Kid
Black Widow – Sacrifice
Spires That in the Sunset Rise – s/t
The Mandrake Memorial – s/t
Neil Diamond - Hot August Night
posted by Jonathan Wright at 8:23 PM EMAIL POST
