Mom's Document Production Business

When I was a kid, my mom started her own word processing business. In 1980, "word processing" wasn't a term you heard every day. So now that I am just about to submit a 35,000 word report after working on it for several months, I am thinking back to those days when my mom ran her TRS-80 and RadioShack Daisy Wheel II to print letters, legal documents, and even dissertations for her clients.

My College Soatermichael

That's a funny word of my dad's... he sometimes calls his motorcycle a soatermichael. Funny. There are two current eBay auctions for the exact bike I secretly purchased in 1986 when I went away to college. Here are photos. These bikes are in better shape than the one I had.

Baby Got an Atom Bomb

Baby got a satellite
Baby got second sight
Baby got a masterplan
A foolproof master plan

Baby got purple hair
Baby got a secret lair
Baby got an army there
I ain't ever seen baby scared

I loved the idea that my re-introduction to techno was going to come from the soundtrack of a video game. I don't really like or play video games, but back in 1996 or 1997 I purchased the soundtrack to Wipeout XL, a record that introduced me to The Future Sound of London, Fluke, Prodigy, and Daft Punk. I already knew The Chemical Brothers, Oribtal, and The Prodigy.

Tonight while out exercising I dialed up "Atom Bomb" from the record Risotto by Fluke. I love that record--got it soon afterward in 1997. Listening to the whole thing now--a rare thing for an electronica record. This one hangs together like 1980's Computer World, which is one of the best records ever, and probably the most important electronic record of all time (in a possible tie with 1968's Switched-On Bach).

Back to Wipeout XL--the Daft Punk track on this thing is great. It's a remix from Homework called "Musique." Lots of low-fi beats and distortion. Thinking of this CD reminds me of a Chemical Bros. CD single I bought of Block Rockin' Beats, which reminds me of this great passage by Nick Hornby from his great little Songbook.

The thing I like most about rediscovering Led Zeppelin--and listening to the Chemical Brothers and The Bends--is that they can no longer be comfortably accommodated into my life. So much of what you consume when you get older is about accommodation: I have kids, and neighbours, and a partner who could quite happily never hear another blues-metal riff or a block-rockin' beat in her life. I have less time, less tolerance for bullshit, more interest in good taste, more confidence in my own judgement. The culture with which I surround myself is a reflection of my personality and the circumstances of my life, which is in part how it should be. In learning to do that, however, things get lost, too, and one of the things that got lost - along with a taste for, I don't know, hospital dramas involving sick children, and experimental films, was Jimmy Page. The noise he makes is not who I am any more, but it's still a noise worth listening to; it's also a reminder that the attempt to grow up smart comes at a cost.

Man, that guy can write! I don't feel the way he does, though. First off, I was never hip enough to have my favorite music be "accomodated into my life" ever. For example, all this cool electronica I am waxing nostalgic over is part of some rave/drug culture scene that I would never be accepted into, no matter how many glowsticks and pacifiers I hung around my neck. Same goes for all the jazz, African, punk, classical, old time, whatever... with the possible exception of the old-time. I actually got into an old-time scene for quite a while, a scene that by it's nature is full of misfits.

French & English Suites

My writing buddy for many years has been J.S. Bach. He nearly single-handedly got me through my Ph.D. dissertation (his music and my wife's encouragement/prodding). I'm on deadline for a project that's due one week from today, and my go-to soundtrack has been Bach's English Suites and French Suites. I've also been dialing up the Two and Three Part Inventions. The performances I've been spinning are part of the excellent Hännsler collection on my BachPod.

I just poked around to see who's been playing the French Suites for me these days--this is a piano version by Edward Aldwel; absolutely beautiful. Sadly, Mr. Aldwel died at age 68 as a result of an ATV accident while searching for his dog.

I also took the opportunity to find the data disc information from the complete Bach and load it onto the BachPod. This will come in handy. The photo of Mr. Aldwell comes from the liner notes. Nice to have all that stuff on hand. I take the BachPod to work every day; it lives in my desk drawer connected to my work PC, which is connected to my modest office hi-fi (HeadRoom Total BitHead D/A converter; NAD 310 integrated amp; Polk Audio Monitor 4s).

My Dad's Freaky Terrorism Bag

Now, there's an attention-grabbing title for you!

Gotta work my way into this one. A while back, I wrote about how conferences make me really depressed. I often read the entire enterprise as a text when I go to these things--right down to the nylon name badge holders, bags, rubber chicken meals and freebies from vendors. My reading of the way these items weave themselves into a narrative centered on the theme of the professional gathering is really depressing: none of us is interesting, nothing we are doing here matters, and we are all going to die. Every piece of conference ephemera--note pads, conference programs, little pens, lapel mics, plastic pitchers of water--the whole depressing thing reminds me of our insignificance and mortality. The worst part is listening to people sharing ideas after sessions, getting excited about what it all means. (I'm a teacher for heaven's sake--that kind of talk is supposed to be uplifting for me; instead, I think back to Winston Smith chatting with Julia about the updates to Newspeak after a Party meeting). I've stopped sharing this observation with my fellow conference-goers, as they invariably find it off putting, annoying, or just depressing.

So... my Dad's bag. You see, my Dad was an Assistant Attorney General in a previous administration--he ran the largest department of the DOJ (Criminal Division--now you can narrow it down and figure out who he is if you're good at Googling, and you'll nail it if you are good at timelines based on historical events). So, I am sure my Dad wasn't depressed or philosophical at the "Strengthening the Public Safety Response to Terrorism" conference in 1998 while he was AAG. But check out the graphic on the bag! I mean, whoa!

Three years before 9/11, but five years after the 1993 World Trade Center Bombing, some graphic designer plopped this hastily-constructed design on a nylon bag. Not only is the bullseye on the right building--it's eerily in the right spot. Part of me wonders if that guy or gal remembered making that design on the morning of September 11, 2001. It's just freaky.

Well, my Dad still uses this bag. He did agree that the image on the bag is a little ominous. But so far I am the only one who is really weirded out by it.

[My guess is that the phrase "freaky terrorism bag" might get picked up by some Homeland Security web worm--if you're reading this, please read the whole thing and realize there isn't anything dangerous here!]

"I am an excellent driver..."

This is a phrase most often used by people who are not excellent drivers. This phrase makes me nervous. Still, if forced to be honest, I must say that I think that I am--ahem--an excellent driver.

One thing I believe is that drivers should fit the culture of a particular driving context. For example, when driving in NYC, DC, or Chicago, I am much more pushy and aggressive than I am back at home. Part of this is necessity, part of it is safety, and part is just plain old wanting to fit in.

But I cannot apply those rules to highway driving out here on the East Coast. During my mother's illness, I drove a lot between NC and Norfolk, VA (with a couple of trips to DC thrown in). This weekend, I've done a bit of driving between DC and Annapolis, MD. People on the highway out here, even in un-congested traffic, do not believe in following distance. As a defensive driver, following distance is my absolute mantra. Click here or here to learn how I do it. A couple of my rules:

• I completely understand that many drivers want to go faster than I do; sometimes I wonder why, because I almost always travel 5 mph above the posted limit, but hey... it's their car/life. Whatever.
• I also completely understand that many drivers want to go slower than I do; I understand this completely, as they are getting better mileage, being safer, and will probably reach their destination in about the same time as me. But, hey... it's my car/life. Whatever.
• I mostly like the middle lane in 3-lane highway traffic (the two bullet points make perfect reasons why this is my neighborhood--faster folks, pass on the left, please; slower folks, move to the right, please.

I've noticed that drivers out here don't use/respect/understand following distance. They see the space I am leaving in front of me as a perfect place to put their car--even if they don't really need to. Perhaps it's habit from searching for urban parking spots. They see my following distance and that looking-for-a-parking-spot part of their brain goes "hey, there's a spot!" At any rate, on the short drive from Annapolis back to DC, my following distance (and it was actually following distance--I was tailing my parents back to their house) gets filled over and over with cars that just seem to want to be there! These cars absolutely ride the tail of the cars in front of them.

This isn't a real problem for me, because I am in charge of how much following distance I have in front of me. I slow down and make the space. While I am doing that, the person behind me gets ticked and passes on the left. Problem solved. Unless you are following a particular person.

The East Coast would be safer if everyone here just drove like me.

Oh, but they do use their turn signals here--even when they're moving into my following distance!

Headed to The District

Happy to be hopping a plane to DC tomorrow after work to spend a long weekend with Dad, Marti and the family. I'm trying to get their CDs burned for them--last time I was there I took them all back here to burn so I can put them on Dad's iPod. Marti needs an iPod.

I'm using my Mom's iPod at work. Right now, it's a BachPod.

Sometimes It's Safe to Buy the Hype

I prove this in two words: The Beatles.

But Danger Mouse proved it again with this excellent record. Todd e-mailed me about it, and then Joshua e-mailed me about it (come to think of it, both of these guys bought me a Stylophone at the same time--WTF?).

Kathy doesn't usually like the stuff I play. Well, the kids and I listened to the streaming NPR version of this record at my office; then I was playing it at home, and Kathy was like "what is that?" and I said, "oh, hey--it's this cool record by Gnarls Barkley, but it's not really Gnarls Barkley, it's Danger Mouse, and there's this lawsuit and EMI won't release it, so Danger Mouse is like selling a booklet and blank CD-R but you can download it for free, and David Lynch is involved and that guy from The Strokes, and the Flaming Lips, and even Iggy Pop..."

Somewhere in the middle of that I'll bet she tuned me out, which would not have been rude because I was just babbling, and when I was done, she said, "Well, I like it."

So I put it on her iPod.

* * *

And I listen to it in the car, and at work, and I made Bill let me come to his office with the record on a flash stick so he could put it on his iPod and listen to it.

I won't bother to write a review--much hipper people than me will/have. I don't have much to say, except:

• The Beatles. You can hear it. It's good.
• The guy from Super Furry Animals has a great voice. They're Welsh. They're more famous than Gorky's Zygotic Mynci, which is like my favorite Welsh band ever. You should listen to them. I have a mix to get you hooked. "Happiness" is one of the most beautiful songs ever. There should be more fiddle in rock and roll.
• Love the production on this. The guy from The Strokes has a great voice.
• Good lyrics. Especially "Just War," which is sung by the Super Furry Animals guy. He's Welsh.
• Iggy Pop is funny. The song is growing on me. Vocals sound like from The Idiot. The guitars and drums rock but sound muted somehow. I'm sure it's intentional.
• The songs with David Lynch sound like his movies. It was all Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks to me. Whoa, that was a long time ago.
• The first four songs are brilliant. I listen over and over.
• Suzanne Vega! What would have happened if "Luca" had never happened? I never liked that song. The one she sings here is good. Did you know that A. A. Milne hated being known for writing Whinnie the Pooh?
  

1973 Kawasaki 500 H1 Triple (2 stroke)

In 1986, my soon-to-be college roommate and I went in on a used motorcycle. This is the one we purchased (it was 13 years old at the time):



I purchased it from a guy I worked with at Hershel's Deli. I was a cook, and so was he. I think we paid $300. For years, I thought it was a secret from my mom, but she knew about it.

Royal Enfield Bikes!

Okay, so they are making and selling these again. About $6K USD for a new one that can cruise at 70mph.

Garanimals for Executives

I don't write about work here, use my real name, or get into stuff that can embarrass, endanger, or otherwise harm me. This is just a writing release/brain-dump kind of thing for me. My favorite topic here is the mundane, and I can't think of anything more boring than what I wear to work.

I remember for a brief time having "school clothes." I think this is a middle class phenomenon; my Mom bagged it after my folks split up, and my clothes were just my clothes, and school/play or work/non-work distinctions are hard for me to accommodate to this day. For example, it frustrates my wife when I mow the lawn or do a project that involves sawdust, paint, or time on my knees in my "good jeans." Mind you--I do all my own laundry! Still, the concept of "good jeans" is kind of lost of me. There are only two categories of jeans in my world: clean and dirty. Get me into the clean jeans, and I think I am doing pretty well.

Which brings me to Erik Satie. You see, I love the quirky piano compositions of Satie in all their brooding, contemplative hipness; that guy was about 50 years ahead of the rest of the world harmonically, and he had the super bizarre lifestyle to prove it. I've read in several places, and the link above has a version of this story too, that Satie purchased a set of identical suits. He wore the same suit over and over until it wore out and then started in on the next. He just really liked wearing the same thing all the time, and he apparently didn't get to the end of these suits before he died.

Which brings me to Fred Rogers. Mr Rogers is famous for his clothing routine, which framed his wonderful and important television program. It's widely known that his mother made the famous Cardigan sweaters that now hang in the Smithsonian. In addition to symbolically demonstrating that he was ready to put the "adult world" on hold for a little while, Mr. Rogers' exercise of removing his sportcoat and dress shoes gave him some needed stage business as he prepared to explore some new ideas with his viewers.

Which brings me to anti-utopian novels. My first serious paper for high school analyzed three dystopian works of fiction: 1984, We, and Brave New World. I had planned to incoroporate a couple of other novels I enjoyed (A Clockwork Orange, Farenheit 451) but I ran out of time and it was only 10th grade. At any rate, while I knew these were not positive visions of the future meant to be modeled, part of the 16 year old me longed for a world like that in 1984 where I was not burdened with the personal choice of what to wear. Just make me wear coveralls like Winston Smith, and I will be perfectly happy, thought I.

And now I am back...

Garanimals for Executives

As a faculty member, I quickly became aware that I could basically wear whatever I wanted. For my first three years, I wore hand-me down suits from my Dad. I mostly did this because I was a very young looking 25 year old. I did not take observations to that effect as compliments (though many people told me that one day I would). I needed to look like the teacher to be treated like one. By the time I was 28 or so, I had tenure and people have made the amusing observation that this is when I started wearing whatever I felt like to work and teach. Then I assumed a leadership role at about age 30 that made me re-consider what I'd wear to campus each day. Meetings with college executives required at least my "button down shirt/no sneakers" dress code; formal presentations, a coat and tie. Jeans and sneakers were acceptable most days.

But that's way too much mental energy! What about a meeting the crops up? An off-campus visit to somewhere important? Get asked at the last minute to attend the Board meeting? For a few years I kept a blue blazer hanging in the office for these occasions. But a single blue blazer won't cut it for my new job and the multi-year "re-branding" I need to do to my appearance.

So, flash forward to now, and my current dress code. I hobbled around on my own dressing for work for the first month of my new job until my wife took me out to lunch to inform me that I needed to "step it up a notch" as she said. That's when we developed the "system" I now have, the one I loving refer to in my head as Garanimals for Executives.

I can't claim total ownership of the phrase. My sister had a great business idea in the early 90s for an updated version of the Garanimals product model, this time aimed at 20-something guys. It was called Garanimals for Guys. I see now that Garanimals is back, having re-launched in 2008.

So, if you didn't grow up in the 70s, you might not know what Garanimals were/are. That means you probably aren't familiar with Toughskins, either. The idea behind Garanimals is a kind of paint-by-number approach to dressing oneself; matching tags help fashion-challenged kids make proper coordination choices. This is perfect for people who don't know or don't care (I often fit into both categories) what to wear. My wife helped me put together a fairly dummy-proof wardrobe that gets me to the office looking like something other than the "rumpled poet" I was accused of being by a neat nick roommate back in college.

My wardrobe consists of:

• Black/brown dress shoes (worn only at work).
• Black/brown belts.
• 6 pair of dress slacks (50% grey/dark; 50% earth/light)
• Several non-white solid dress shirts (current favorites are purple, green, dark blue, light blue, buff, etc.)
• Ties (often the ones that come in the box with the shirts--they match and do just fine).
• 6 jackets: various grey, blue, hounds tooth, etc.

I start with shoes. Black shoes require black belt. Black shoes/belt means no brown slacks or jacket. Brown shoes/belt means no dark slacks or jacket. Apart from that, no decisions to make. I am dressed and done.

It's liberating to not worry about what I am wearing at work. The funny thing is that these formal clothes are almost as comfortable as pajamas! It's even more comfortable than jeans and t-shirts! Plus, it feels more formal.

Last note, and this ties back to Mr. Rogers. I have developed a Fred Rogerseque routine with these clothes. I come in and work standing up at my workstation for about 40 minutes; I immediately remove my jacket. When I sit down, I roll up my sleeves, which stay that way for most of the day. For meetings, I will roll down the sleeves and put on the jacket. Otherwise, the jacket stays off until the end of the day. That way I am fairly formal on the entrance/exit from work.

I love to write about stuff that doesn't matter. This helps me--it has kept me from boring someone with all this crap in a real conversation.

My College Mentor

Here's a photo of me and the guy who got me through my undergraduate education, Peter Dominguez. Peter was professor of jazz studies and double bass and MSU when I was there for undergrad. He took me on as a beginning student when he didn't have to; I registered for MUS 152D just about every semester--one credit of private lessons.

I was not the best student. Peter knew I wasn't cut out for a career in music, but he was truly one of the best teachers I ever had. He also helped me put things into perspective. It's funny how people can informally find mentors in life. Well, Peter was that person for me.

Those private lessons were more like mentoring sessions for me. When I wasn't cutting it on the stuff he gave me to practice, I'd come in and gab through the lesson about records and culture. He turned me on to some of my favorite music.

When I tell someone that I studied bass with Peter Dominguez for four years, they think I must be some kind of monster on the instrument. I've never met a jazz person in Michigan who didn't know Peter. He's been on the faculty at Oberlin for many years now, having left MSU not long after I was done with graduate school. In the photo, I am playing with his trio for one tune--he's humoring me by letting me sit in. I remember that we played "So What" by Miles Davis because it's such a simple tune.

In the photo, you can see Peter's amp. That used to my my amp--a little Gaillien Kruger 200MB. That thing was fantastic: a 200 watt head in a small metal box with a 12" driver. I sold it to Peter to help pay for a larger rig when I started playing rock and roll. His office amp was this beat up old Polytone--man was that thing cool! But he liked this amp of mine: every now and then, I'd need to bring it with me to an electric bass lesson (I carried that thing and my jazz bass all the way from Phillips Hall to the Music Building!). For all I know, Peter still has that amp.

That's a sweet bass in the photo. If I remember correctly, it's not his French bass, which had a chopped-down upper bout. This one has nice gamba corners and a low-C extension on it and Tyrolean pegs.

5min Kills Review

UPDATE: A pal of mine edited this into a much better review and posted it with me as author on his blog. Check it out if you like.

Go!

1. Seeing Todd was the best part. We had a blast driving around Detroit, eating at Mexican Village, hanging out at the Magic Stick, and talkin'. One of my best buddies ever. Thanks for the invite, Chaka!
2. My favorite part of the Magic Stick is: the outdoor patio. The view isn't great (lighted signs at Harper Hospital), but the neon bowling sign is cool. It was a great night.
3. As a room to hear a band, Magic Stick gets a C+. I am not a short person, and I never have trouble seeing the band at your average stand-on-the-floor-in-an-unorganized-mob venue, but visibility ain't great. There are two staircases (to the aforementioned patio) that afford a decent view for fewer than 10 people.
4. I expected the show to be louder. I'm not complaining, as I wear earplugs during most of the show, but the sound was a little wimpy and the room was a giant bass trap. Believe me, I like bass more than the next guy, but it wasn't nice.
5. The openers were interesting. The Horrors reminded me a bit of Killing Joke--a major compliment. The Magic Wands, or whatever their name was, were fairly unremarkable. I kept trying to see what was going on with the drummer--I don't think he was playing half of the time.
6. I'll save my thoughts on The Kills for a later session--gotta keep it moving this morning. I'll end by saying that the Magic Stick is a great place to not watch a band, and I don't mean that as an insult. If you were going to shoot pool, drink, and talk with pals without keeping an eye on the stage, this would be a nice room. If you want to take in the band, dance, watch the show... well, someone needs to redesign the place a bit. I'm spoiled because the last show I saw was at The Double Door in Chicago, which is a great room with excellent visibility in every part of the wedge-shaped space.

A review of The Kills next time I log on.

Okay, back... 5 more min:

1. I need to begin by saying that I am not anti-drum machine. I love beats, electronic or otherwise, and I don't turn my nose up at an act with no real live drummer. (The Beastie Boy lyric "I'm in the pocket, just like Grady Tate / I got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait" comes to mind).
2. The Kills got off to a bad start. Some kind of sound/guitar/beatbox problems. The guitarist dude seemed pretty irritated when they just turned on their heels and bagged it in the middle of their opener. Their tech guy was concentrating intently on smoking, which he seemed more interested in doing than actually fixing their problem. He dutifully re-tuned the crappy guitars as they were alternated (that is, when this activity fit in with his smoking).
3. I also need to say that I am not anti-cheap guitar. Far from it. I loved the guitars up there--from the looks of them, cheap Mosrite/Teisco-like 60s Japan jobs. Very cool. But the swtiching of guitars and the lack of bottom end on a few of them was a drag.
4. As performers, The Kills seemed off last night. Less energy than I expected from reading ahead. Then there was the mis-step in their opening song, which had a "let's go back downstairs and start this over again" kind of feel to it.
5. There were some great performances. I danced for most of their show and had a good time (slapping an empty Red Stripe against my leg for part of it). It was a good show.
6. I saved this for last, because it almost ruined things. They did three really bad covers. Or should I say one bad cover, one terrible cover, and one inexcusable cover. I'll write about those three when I come back again.

The Covers

1. Since I've used the "first I must say" locution a few times, and it seems to be necessary, I will use it again: First, I must say that I love cover tunes. I also don't think that there are "off-limits" tunes, e.g. tunes where the original is so great that they shouldn't be covered. That's baloney. Any song is cover-worthy, and if you don't think that any song can be rehabilitated by a good cover version, you've never heard Richard Thompson's version of "Oops, I Did It Again."
2. I think that The Kills are at a special disadvantage on the cover front; I will illustrate this by negative example. At Todd's house before the show, his iPod shuffled to Seu Jorge's cover of "Changes" by David Bowie, which due to Jorge's excellent voice and samba guitar, coupled with the lyrics in Portugese, simply could not fail. It was cool from the beginning. I think the inverse is true of low-fi/garage rock/whateveryoucallit. A quickly executed cover for Jorge is instantaly different and cool, while the same thing from The Kills sounds, well, like band practice in the garage.
3. One last pre-review cover pontification: I don't think that a great song automatically makes a great cover. In fact, it's often harder to make a cover of a great song work. All three of the covers I will talk about are great songs in their own right. Fantastic songs, actually. My personal opinion is that The Kills ruined all three of them--I would have much rather they played their own stuff during this time.

BAD: "Crazy" / Patsy Cline

First off, if I were a female singer, I wouldn't touch this tune with a 100' pole. It's only one of the greatest country songs ever, and the Patsy version is imprinted in everyone's mind. But okay, you're going to give it a go.

What went wrong: Mr. Hotel man played the guitar part straight, including the jazz/country turnaround chords. The Kills sealed the deal when they went up a half step like the original; that kind of modulation from a low-fi garage band is literally laughter inducing... it was like wearing a gorilla mask with a prom dress! VV's vox weren't exactly up to the task, and this was underscored by the fact that she used much of Patsy's phrasing. Unoriginal, uninteresting, and unfortunate.

TERRIBLE: "Pale Blue Eyes" / Velvet Underground

Now, this should have worked. This band has VU cred and Mr. Hotel man looks quite a bit like Lou Reed. If someone was able to pull of a Velvets cover, this act should be able to nail it. This is a wonderful song, and it's been covered well many, many times (even R.E.M. did a passable job with this one).

What went wrong: Very much like the Great Patsy Cline Disaster, they played this straight, the way every band that was ever formed has played it. I turned to Todd after the first chord and gave a "thumbs down," and I'm never that negative when I'm having a good time. It was awful. The singing was uninteresting, and while Mr. Hotel man did try to mix it up rhythmically a bit at times, it just didn't work. Because they are carrying on in the VU tradition so well with their own material, they get extra points off for botching this one. Yeeeeuch!

INEXCUSABLE: "I Put a Spell on You" / Screamin' Jay Hawkins

This just shouldn't have happened. I can understand why they like Screaming Jay and this song, and I can picture them doing it early on before they wrote their own stuff, but unless you're going to radically re-shape the tune, you have dug yourself an impossible hole: that hole is called "how to sing/act/scream crazier than Screamin' Jay" and you ain't never getting out of that hole.

What went wrong: Again, they played is straight. Mr. Hotel man tried to approximate the drums, horn section, and bone-in-the-nose energy with his little guitar and it just didn't work. VV once again sang it like the record and came up way, way short. Want proof you can re-work this song? Check out this 1968 cover by Nina Simone.

Let me end on a positive note. I think The Kills are a great band. I think they put on a good show last night. I had a blast with my pal Todd, and I would go again in a heartbeat.

Live Show!!!!!

"We ain't born typical"

Getting excited about The Kills show tomorrow night, so the blog is boring. Just posting YouTube videos. But first, here's a quote from a blog review (with excellent photos) of the Detroit show at Magic Stick exactly one year ago:

The Kills were very loud. They were pretty much deafening. For two small and quiet looking people they are pretty ominous and menacing onstage. After seeing they industrial-bluesy-eurotrash set it wouldn`t be a far stretch to see the Kills as the fascist dictators of somebackwards little country in Eastern Europe. Maybe not though. The stage was minimally decorated with giant white sheets that hungall around back and sides of the stage. On the sheets were projected alternating video clips of old bands (I think I saw Sid & Nancy, theRamones, and Talking Heads...) as well as an epileptic light show to keep the kids on the floor twitching.

There was a large turnout of enthusiastic, well-dressed hipsters aswell as more than a few fine-looking ladies. The dance floor waspacked near to capacity with people of all types. At one point I was given a beer by a girl because it was as she described it ˘too foamy˘so thanks to you. Walking through the crowd now with my free beer andpad of paper I made several observations, few of which I can recall now to include because around this time I lost my pen. For an encore they chose a Captain Beefheart track from Safe As Milk that was much appreciated by yours truly. Coincidentally the MotorCityBlog Crew ran into the Kills the next afternoon while we waited to interview the Black Kids and Cut Copy. Unfortunately they seemed a little too partied out for much conversation. The Kills were definitely a top notch act.

I Would Love To...

...see Animal Collective some day. I love this song:

Todd and I are going to see The Kills

We are.





Tickets are $16. That's just about perfect. Once a band charges more, they're gone, baby, gone. Well, not really. But it was fun to write that. I guess it's true to some extent. It's kind of like a hamburger. Expensive hamburgers suck.

I want you to be crazy
'Cause you're boring baby when you're straight.
I want you to be crazy
'Cause you're stupid baby when you're sane.

Bemis Elementary School

I remember fondly the first major decision my mother let me make as a child. I had attended Niles Elementary School in Troy, MI from 1st-4th grade. I have a very clear memory of bringing home a packet of information about a new school that had been built very close to my home. It was an exciting new school because it was being built with a new "open classroom" design centered on a media center, and the new building was to have solar panels on the roof--the first school of its kind in the US. This must have been 1977 or 1978. Some of the incoming 5th graders at Niles had a choice of staying with their old school, or moving to Bemis Elementary, the new school. I recall my mother sitting me down to explain all this to me, and she let me make the decision.

Well, I chose the new school. It was very exciting to be part of the new school. During my middle school years, new elementary schools with the same floor plan popped up all over Troy. The one by my new house, Hamilton Elementary, had a woodchip berm built around it that made it possible for teenagers like me to run quickly, plant a sneaker on the brick wall, and lunge up high enough to grab the edge of the roof and climb up. So you can bet we spent a lot of time monkeying around on the roof of that school!

But back to Bemis and my mother's decision. Clearly the easiest thing to do would be for her to make the decision for me. I remember really liking the fact that I could make the decision; I felt legitamately empowered. One thing that always stuck with me: she read something or told me the story of how the school got its name. Bemis Elemenary was named after a long-serving custodian in the Troy School District. I am being totally serious when I say that this fact impressed me: I knew enough about the world to understand that it wasn't every day that buildings were named after working people like custodians. My dad worked in a number of buildings in Detroit, all named after banks for famous politicians. The fact that this school was named after a custodian made me happy and proud. This made a deep impression on me, and I was only 10 or 11 at the time!

And so did the solar panels! The school staff and teachers took us to see them; the were written about in the paper and featured on television news. This was the energy crisis! Those solar panels are long gone, but the school newsletter is still called "The Solar."

I also remember that the staff holding a school election to select the school's mascot. I seem to remember that the mascot that was selected was "The Satillites." I remember that's not the one I voted for, and I think I can picture a hand-made sweatshirt with a picture of a satillite on it. From looking at the Bemis website, I can't see if they have a mascot or what it is.

So, this memory lane trip has been interesting. With the recent death of my mother, I find that positive memories of her are just hitting me at random times. Thinking about watching the movie Paddle to the Sea at Bemis Elementary reminded me of all this stuff. I am impressed that my mom included me in this big decision, and I am equally impressed that that first staff of Bemis held an election for the mascot.

The excellent education I received in the Troy School District made me want to become an educator. And I think my life-long love and respect for school employees started when I attended the school named after a custodian.

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I sent a link for this post to the current secretaries at Bemis.

Paddle to the Sea

My boss does this very cool thing; she puts all the journals, newsletters, and other professional development materials that she receives into little bundles. Then she circulates them among all the deans so we can read/copy the things that interest us. They got backlogged and 5 landed in my office today. As I was going through the stuff, I remembered the wonderful book and film Paddle to the Sea from elementary school. The whole thing is posted (legally) on YouTube, so here it is for your enjoyment.





I loved comparing my Boss' lit sharing to this great memory from childhood. The boy who carves Paddle to the Sea has no idea about the little toy's adventures. As a kid, I was fascinated by things such as buried treasure and messages a the bottle. I sent several messages in bottles on Lake Michigan and got a letter from a woman who found one of them one year.

This 1966 film takes me back to other memorable movies from elementary school. I won't embed them here (out of respect for Paddle to the Sea), but two others I remember fondly are The Red Balloon (1956) and Pollution, an animated short set to Tom Lehrer's wonderful song of the same title. I could not find that film online, so the link is to Lehrer playing the song.

Upon reflection, I think that the experience of making the shark for Owen really look me back to Paddle to the Sea.

Silver Maple Shark

Here's a snap of that shark--need to do some final sanding and shaping. It was a limb that Consumers chopped off during the winter. I dragged it into the basement and let it dry out; then I cut it into a block and let it dry. Once it was dry, Owen and I drew an outline and cut a 2D shape and let it dry more. Then I did some creative removal of material with the bandsaw and went at it with the orbital sander.

The freaky part is that the knots are pretty much where the eyes should be on both sides!

Right now I am listening to "She Lives on a Mountain" by Gorky's Zygotic Mynci. What a gorgeous song! Pet Sounds + Gypsy brass band + Celtic fiddle + freakish alpine love story = pop perfection.

Feeling Healthy

So, I don't want to jinx anything, but I am feeling very healthy lately. Not "healthful" mind you--that would imply exercise and good eating, both of which I need in greater quantities. No, I am feeling healthy in the sense that I have not been sick for quite a while. Kath has been miserable with head colds/sinuses (better now, thanks for asking). Obviously there's a fair amount of sickness in my family (mom got sick... died; dad has cancer; sister has a busted up leg, etc.).

Here's to health.

You know that feeling you get after you've been sick? That feeling that you're so glad not to be sick and you can almost feel the positive not-sick energy? I've got that. It's good.

Gotta fix my 8track mixes that went "private" when they did the most recent fixes.

UPDATE: All mixes public again. I did discover that even "private" mixes would play when embedded in this blog.

Radio Mix Updates

Made some updates to the Radio Mix, including Donna Summer's "On the Radio" (Mary's suggestion--how did I freakin' miss that?).



New Playlist

1. Radio Freq / Dead Prez
2. My Radio / Solvent
3. On My Radio / The Selecter
4. Rock And Roll / The Velvet Underground
5. Roadrunner / The Modern Lovers
6. Video Killed The Radio Star / The Buggles
7. Radio Free Europe / R.E.M.
8. This Is Radio Clash / The Clash
9. Radio Silence / Thomas Dolby
10. On The Radio / The Concretes
11. On The Radio / Donna Summer
12. Radio, Radio / Elvis Costello & The Attractions
13. Caravan / Van Morrison
14. Radios In Motion / /TC
15. Radio Interrupt / Wired for Mono
16. Turn Off That Radio / Ice Cube

G-Fab

Okay, so what's with the nickname?

This blog got started last year during a mixtape challenge some pals had; I enjoyed writing on the blog too much, so I started an overflow blog for my rantings, and ravings. I discovered how much I enjoyed writing about the stupid, silly stuff that I go on about--music, stereo equipment, computers, life in general, etc. So it got to be a habit and it's a kind of digital knitting or crochet for me.

But the nickname? Well, Joshua assigned us all DJ names, and mine was something like "Gangsta Fabulous Razzle Dazzle" and I shortened it to G-Fab. Nobody in real life calls me G-Fab. It's just something to use instead of my real name.

Because you shouldn't use your real name on a blog that's about stupid stuff. There's nothing here that could get me in trouble, but it's not very serious either. So, it's done under a silly nickname, per the recommendation of the Electronic Frontier Foundation.

Sincerely,

~G-Fab

"We are observing your Earth"

I don't usually listen to my iPod with headphones, but tonight I am. I am even using crappy earbuds. It's not bad. So I am writing, blogging, chatting with my boss, and doing a project for Kathy. And I've been listening to one of my favorite records, Every Man and Woman Is A Star by Ultramarine.

So, the track "Gravity" has this great loop where an alien voice goes "we are observing your Earth!" And then a female voice goes "Mother Earth." Great stuff. I wrote about this record almost one year ago in my 5 Secret Albums post.

So, now I know where that sample comes from! A while back, Aaron made a UFO mix on 8tracks, and it rocked, and I found him some other stuff, including a really, really, really bad song by The Carpenters. Well, that song ("Calling Occupants of Interplanetary Craft") has a strange intro where a DJ gets a call from aliens, and THAT IS THEM TALKING!!!! This Ultramarine record has so many cool samples in it. I really like the Steve Miller samples; there's also a cool Laurie Anderson sample from USLive when a Native American storyteller says "It was up in the mountains / We had this ceremony every year." That phrase kicks off the record, and it comes from one of the more compelling moments of US Live, which was like my most favoriteist record thing back in high school.

I miss my mom a lot tonight.

Not a great transition from missing my mom, but I just came back here to add some links and I was reminded of the whole heaven's gate thing. Remember that? I was still living in Lansing then, still using that first Dell computer then (1997), and I remember hitting their web that night--the night they castrated and killed themselves. That web site is still there--a giant, collaborative, cyber-suicide note. That is like exactly what the web mostly looked like back in 1997.

RED ALERT--Last chance to evacuate Earth before it is recycled.

So I am finally going off to bed I think, after many false starts. This was a hard weekend. But looking back at that 5 Secret Records post made me remember to burn a copy of Towa Tei's Future Listening! for Bill. He really needs to hear this record. This one begins with a sample, soo "I want to relax, please." A YouTuber thinks: "I think the opening vocal sample comes from an English dub of the Italian film "The 10th Victim (La decima vittima)" [when Marcello Mastroianni checks in]."

I'll leave you (as if you are someone specific--how many times did I get after students for this?) with the brilliant video that got me hooked on Towa Tei. I saw it on the MTV show AMP when I couldn't sleep during my comprehensive exams. I just love that little white dog. There are some great NASA samples in there, too.





Oh, and I still want a "Thinking Suit" just like Towa has here. I wonder what the significance of the third arm is. Could be something as simple as the fact that a thinking suit needs permanent Rodin-like chin stroking. Who knows? There was this woman in Sweden who thought she had a third arm, and neurologists agreed. Aren't you glad you read this crap? There I go again with you.

Nostalgia Computing

So dig it: I found someone who has search-able pdf copies of all Radio Shack catalogs, and that's the best place to find my grad school computer. So what I had was a Tandy 1000 TL/2 with a VM-5 12" green screen monitor. I loved that thing! In fact, I only recently parted with the keyboard (it's the one you see in the picture below. I had 3 different adapters for it, and it finally gave up the ghost about 2 years ago (Kathy persuaded me to throw it away). It had substance and felt like a real typewriter. I snapped these images from the 1990 catalog.



I guess it does not surprise me that there appears to be a nostalgia computing community on the Internet. From the time in 1979, while sitting in the passenger seat of my mother's car on the corner of Coolidge and Maple, when I heard an Apple Computer radio ad for the first time, I've been aware of computers in some form or fashion.

The Obsolete Technology Website is pretty cool.

I used my Mom's TRS-80s a bit and have written about them here. She also had a Tandy Color computer, which we hooked to a color television. Then there were the hand-me-down Tandy TX-1000s (I had 2 of these, cast off from my mother's business).

I never could get the hang of Scripsit or SuperScripsit, so I wrote most of my college papers on a SmithCorona word-processing typewriter.

The first computer that was legitimately MINE was a Tandy 1000TL. I specifically did not want a color monitor--the ones they were selling at the time were really ugly in my view--they had HUGE type and awful colors. Check out the user's manual below:



So, I walked into a RadioShack and asked for one of the monitors they had hooked to the cash register. It was a small, green screen affair, with limited graphics. All I used it for was writing and e-mail, so what did I care. These little monitors came in gray screen, orange screen, and green screen. Mine was green. The 1000TL was a 286 IBM clone that ran MD-DOS. Through graduate school, I ran WordPerfect 5.1 and EndNote on this machine. The only other thing I did with it was telnet to the MSU mainframe for my Pilot e-mail, connect to the MSU library server, or do some MOO, MUD, or MUSH things (oh and a BBS or two). This is similar to the monitor I had (this one is a little bigger: I actually LOVED my little green screen monitor):



In 1994, after working at my first professional job for a year, I took out a loan from the college and dropped $3,500 on a Dell running Windows 3.1 and I purchased a CTX 17" monitor. The CRT in that thing was HUGE! I kept the 286 w/ green screen as a second computer and used it for plain-old writing (including a hunk of my dissertation proposal) until the mid-late 1990s. I ditched it in 1999 when I realized I no longer had a computer that it could accept input from, the old 286 having died a few years previously.

There was something romantic, dare I say sexy, about the plain flicker of those old monitors. Couple that with the "newness" of getting online back in the day. Pretty thrilling, actually.

From there, I got back on the mom's castaway computer bandwagon; my buddy Todd helped me hack and build many computers based on the husks my mom had given me (most of them the mini-tower design that is popular now in PCs). Todd did most of that stuff--it was fun to watch him work on them. I still have (right here in fact) the Inca Computers mousepad we bought one day in Flint at the now-defunct Inca Computer store.

Right now I am going down to throw junk out in the basement.

Tandy TX-1000

When I first started teaching full time back in 1993, none of the faculty had computers on their desks (with the exception of a couple of computer science teachers). So I brought in this TX 1000 that my mom had cast off.

Below is mom's first computer, one of a couple of TRS-80 machines she had in the house circa 1981-82 for her word processing business:

There's one of these currently for sale on eBay for $29 (it's in Michigan, too!). There's also a unit that someone has modified to incorporate a new Pentium computer, keyboard, and monitor. I can't claim that I haven't thought about doing this myself. It looks like way too much work!

You've got to admire the dedication! Or, maybe you don't. Anyhow, my introduction to computers was from my Mom, who had a couple of these babies in the house. In the photo above, you also see a daisy wheel printer, which was loud as f@*k. That thing would shake, rattle, and roll anything it was on. It was a lot nicer than the dot matrix printers of the day.

Wireless is overrated

Back in the Diatribe days, I used to sign out a wireless unit for my bass rig every once in a while. It was cool to walk to the back of the room for soundchecks, but that was it's only real feature. I never remember it fritzing out on me, but I never felt tethered with a regular cord. And I moved around a lot as a player.

Today, my colleague Terrence sang at our commencement exercises. The dude has a great voice, and about 2 bars into "God Bless America" the dang wireless mic started cutting out on him. It was cutting out on the readers, too. Funny thing: they were about 2 meters away from the mixing board. Nothing wrong with that picture that a 50' xlr mic cable wouldn't fix!

"I don't need the microphone..."

This phrase is one of my pet peeves at conferences, and I say this as a former offender. Like many people with loud voices (and some theatre training about speaking from the diaphragm), I have in the past proclaimed boastfully that I can address the room without a mic. This is a pretention I picked up from years of speaking in union halls. So, I think I don't need the mic. Fine. For me. What most loud-voiced people fail to realize is that it's not about them. Many people in standard-sized conference halls have a difficult time hearing under the best of circumstances. More than a couple of my friends are completely deaf in one ear. Many people lose hearing acuity starting as early as their mid 40s.

It's not about you! You might not need the mic, but some people in the audience do!

A sub-component of this pet peeve is the way most people use lapel mics. They hold them with their thumb and forefinger as though the mic is a little piece of tea cake or a disgusting bug. Then they put the mic directly in front of their mouths to ensure that every percussive sound they make with their lips--linguists call these bilabial plosives--crackles and pops in a most annoying way (that is to say nothing of the silly tea-cake/bug-holding look that accompanies this sound).

The best thing to do with that lapel mic is to PUT IT ON YOUR LAPEL! You might not be able to hear it, but it was designed to pick up your voice from down there. If you can't hear it, don't worry. Someone can adjust the sound at the mixing console for the rest of the room. And if it still bothers you, remember... you don't need a mic! Right?

Der BachPod

So, Hanssler is just getting around to doing this. I've had a BachPod since 2005; now my Mom's old iPod is the BachPod, with all 172 discs of the Rilling Bach loaded up. Right now I am listening to some gorgeous chorale settings as I write.

Ah, Bach.