Yo Yo Yo ...

I've had nothing of importance to say. And while that may be the case for every other posting that I've ever posted, that is simply the reason why I haven't posted in...well, I guess it's only been a week or so.

But what I can do is update you on some things.

Remember the "Female Chauvinist Pig" sign I ranted about awhile back? It's gone. In fact, it looks like the person is gone, like the cube's been evacuated, or drastically cleaned up. I say good riddance to bad rubbish!

I read today that Amy Winehouse is back on the stuff, after what was supposedly only 10 days of cleanliness. They say she was high at the Brit Awards. I saw a rebroadcast of that show on CBC, and she DID look either extremely stupid or ... yeah, high. I badly wanted to think the former. I still don't (want to) believe it. And I still say screw Natalie Cole.

New on the GGMSW jukebox: "Mercy Beat" by The Better Beatles. Originally recorded in 1982, these are very ... unconstructed versions of 10 Beatle tunes that sound absolutely like no Beatles tune I ever heard. It's GREAT! Get it at http://www.hookorcrook.com/ .

IF YOU ARE READING THIS BEFORE MARCH 2 AT 5PM : WFMU is in the midst of their fundraising drive, which is actually FUN to listen to, and I actually might give 'em some money this year. Take THAT, WDET!! Anyway, on the Gaylord Fields show at, like I said, 5pm on Sunday March 2, Yo La Tengo will be in the studio, as they are every year, playing instant requests from money donators (is that a word? why can't I think of the term for money donators?). Anyway, what they do is, when someone calls in with a pledge, they can request ANY SONG and Yo La Tengo WILL PLAY IT!! LIVE!! They actually released an album a few years back called Yo La Tengo Is Murdering The Classics, which collects about an hour's worth of their efforts. A lot of wonderful things on it - "You May Be Right" by Billy Joel, The New York Mets Theme Song, "Captain Lou" (about wrestling illuminary Captain Lou Albano) and more. I think it's available from their website http://www.yolatengo.com/ . Get It!

Next weekend is the 11th Annual Metro Times Blowout in Hamtramck. Looks like I'll be going on Saturday, looking forward to seeing Scott Morgan's Powertrane, who were the best thing I saw last year, and Mitch Ryder. He better be good, and he better bring it! Also on the schedule, among others, is the Muldoons, with whom quite frankly I am fed up. They finally released their album, produced by - surprise - Jack "sun block 150" White, and it's on vinyl only!! I mean, c'mon, give me a break!! Those damn kids can get quite tiresome with that noise after 10 minutes, and if they weren't so young & precocious (and so connected to Uncle Jack) they'd have to work twice as hard to gain the following they've amassed. I'd like to own that album, (at least download it for free from some blogsite), but they better get it together. They've put out a product that none of their classmates can even use! Was that the point? Bad marketing!

Coat Yer Stomach, Ya Moron!

q: Is it still winter?

a: Does Blake Cecil-Fielder sell autographed pix of his wife for H?

So last weekend I went to see The Dirtbombs, as mentioned in my second-to-last post. I was ill for the first hour, not exactly puking sick, but close enough that I was getting concerned. here's what happened (what, you thought I'd just let it go at that? Mais non, you will get an explanation):

I was shopping for hours the evening before in shoes that I had never worn before. How stupid could I be? My feet hurt so bad I thought I'd have to unscrew them. Then the next day, which was also Dirtbomb Day, I did more shopping, but it was worth it because I got a great red sweater & a great leather jacket which, if I do say so myself, looked quite rock'n'roll, but not too juvenile. A few extra zippers but nothing nutzy. But my feet started acting up again. So before I left the house for the evening I took a vicodin (I love that shit). Then, at the bar I pounded down 2 beers, which I never do, neither at home nor out (I don't drink beer out, unless it's at a burger restaurant, and rarely even then and if it is one of those rare times it's usually just one). But I wanted something to quench my thirst before I started my usual bourbon/rocks regimen. Oh yeah, let me also mention that I didn't eat. So I started getting light-headed, and then sweaty (yes, I did have on a leather jacket, but also just a t-shirt under it (see same previous post)). And I'm trying to keep composed while talking to my daughter (who we'll call BQXZL*AA9 for brevity and anonymity's sake ) & friends of hers that kept coming by (more of that later) I excused myself & went outside to get some air. After about 5 minutes and two begging episodes from bums, one of which actually told me he almost had enough for wine and for that alone I shoulda given him five bucks, I went back in. BQXZL*AA9 kept asking if I was OK, and I thought I was, but after about another 15 minutes it was back. So again I went out, thinking maybe my blood sugar was low, so I ran across the street to the lot where my car was parked & found some breath mints - sugar free. I chewed a couple anyway, went back to my standing spot for another five minutes, then went back inside. I started to normalize to the point that I even started drinking again, but only had one more. So two beers, two bourbons. Hell, I can do that before going to church. Usually.

I have come to the conclusion that even in rock'n'roll, there is a changing of the guard. You know, like Huey Lewis at some point stopped getting invited to the grammys. (but not the American Music Awards, because its proprietor Dick Clark has become increasingly out of touch since singers stopped wearing alpaca sweaters and started slinging guitars) To my surprise, BQXZL*AA9 knew a number of people at this place, including Troy Gregory the bass player in the Dirtbombs (granted there are two of 'em, but I knew none and to be sure neither of 'em knew my name). I did see one guy I knew, but he probably doesn't remember my name, and he probably saw me before I saw him because he never came by and I was sitting at the bar! But BQXZL*AA9 sat & chatted comfortably, even at times said "oh, there's (somebody), I hope he doesn't see me, I don't wanna talk to him". Even in my heyday at the Eastown or Grande people would avoid me (truth be told I was failry surly) and during the time I was frequenting the rock dumps I was confident in my cool factor & was, if not exactly adored and admired at least positively acknowledged as a pace-keeper and trend-rebuffer. So it made me realize that times and things change and you have to bend like a willow to survive. Plus you have to eat something if you take vicodin & wanna booze it up.

As far as the show, therre were two support bands that need to go back to the drawing board. Yes, the post-garage-craze scene in Detroit is probably much like what CBGB was after The Ramones and Television became too big to play there anymore. And it's funny, because a couple years ago I would've made sure a local band was on the bill of any show I was going to. (of course if there wasn't all I could do is complain to no one about it) Now it reminds me of how every shitty bar band turned into Bowie/Dolls copyists after everyone and their granny stopped wearing platforms & make-up.

But The Dirtbombs sounded good. The new album is pretty decent (We Have You Surrounded) and I was even prompted to leave my barstool once and watch the stage. But if they're reading this (yeah, them & the other two or three people) they need to take my advice and remove the 8 minute feedback freakout from their set. This was a CD release show, so maybe the thing is that you play the entire thing (good thing The Beatles White Album didn't go through that - how would they do "Revolution 9"?) Anyway, it was like the 2nd half of MC5's "Starship", where they spout pseudo-cosmic bullshit & the guitarists freak out. So BQXZL*AA9 if you see Troy tell him to remove it from the set, & replace it with...something else, also they can remove the ironic INXS covers.

FYI, I returned the leather jacket to the store. Who am I , a member of The Dirtbombs?

First (don't you hate it when it starts out "first, ..." ?), a couple of things (here he goes again):

A lot of this blog has, and may well continue to, discussed former nun Amy Winehouse. Why? Because she is news, that's why, also she is hugely talented & also she is killing herself. It's an ongoing train wreck that you can't turn away from until you have gone through the mailbags and all the stuff in the cargo car, then you've topped it off with a daquiri in the club car. Anyway, who reads this anyway? Family and/or a few friends? So who cares? At any rate, I'm going to write about her again, and yes, even I myself thought "you're obsessed, but it's Ok because it's not like Rosie with Tom Cruise so breathe easy". Anyway (again) I'm about to rant, but I'll try & make it interesting.

Yesterday I saw something on Al Gore's internet (he lets me use it from time to time - he also hates people) where Natalie Cole - you know, the has-been offspring of Nat "King" Cole - said giving Amy Winehouse those grammies (does it still use the "y" in plural form?) sets a bad example, that it's rewarding her bad behaviour.

I have two words for the girl who made it big - not known, but ... well, yeah "known" too - off her dead father, and rode his decaying coattails by recording extra vocals on the song HE made famous decades earlier, and those words are:

Billie Holiday

Yeah, that's right, you purists out there, and usually I am one of them, and I still am but I think most things are as valuable as tits on a cereal box (although it gives one something to do at the breakfast table) that's right, I said it. I'm comparing Amy Winehouse to Billie Holiday.

The grammys (a-ha! you do use the "y" in the plural form!) started in 1958, and we know this because they kept shoving "50th grammys" down our throats and 1958 plus 50 equals 2008 and also they paraded semi-corpse Andy Williams out there for us to marvel at (is he stuffed? is what I was thinking) and I guess he was the first host of the thing. Anyway, as usual I'm off track. So, Billie Holiday was pretty much Amy Winehouse in 1958 but that's not exactly why I compare the two. It's the other way around. That girl (A. W.) has a voice that quantum leapily transcends non-crackheads like Carrie Whats-her-face or Mariah Pukeness or any other absurd warbler. She has feeling and soul in her voice that was last heard in Aretha's Atlantic Records years, those being the years she made all the records anyone would remember, and I don't mean "Freeway Of Love" or "Jumpin' Jack Flash" although that one was done for some stupid Whoopie Goldberg movie with Keith Richard who was the male Amy Winehouse of his time and I wonder who laughed harded at those sessions, Keith or Aretha? And I've heard AW do jazz standards & she has IT. Period. Would anyone doubt that Lady Day should've gotten a grammy, had they existed in her heyday? SHE didn't create any new genre, which is probably the argument the naysayers today use for Amy, that she's just cashing in on an existing groove. Read back a few sentences. NOTHING THIS REAL since Sister 'Ree. And DON'T GET ME STARTED ON CHARLIE PARKER, one of the most talented & gifted junkies EVER although he DID create a genre but probably wouldn't have copped a grammy anyway because that genre he created was dubbed "chinese music" because people couldn't get their heads around it and that genre pretty much flourished in "stuff" advocacy.. But still...

At any rate, "f" you, Natalie Cole, you are NOT unforgettable. AND you were ALSO a dopehead. DO NOT SHIT WHERE YOU EAT. Her quote: "you don't just get to do your drugs and go onstage and get rewarded."

Oh really? Wanna take a poll? Show of hands? Didn't think so.

Get Lifted

I am sick of winter.

'Member when I told you about my new Jeep? Well, the weather has been so shitty that I still havent gotten it washed. It's always snowing, or so cold a wash would freeze up all the doors & windows (windows seem like no big deal, but so help me dog twice this year I've had to open the door & get out of the vehicle at the drive-up ATM). So it's filthy, and consequently so is my coat. That's because since the Jeep is new I've been parking it in the garage, but I also have to allow for the 2nd vehicle which is much bigger than mine so I'm pulling way off to one side of the garage, & I'm squeezing myself alongside the thing, making sure the other tenant has room.

Hey, don't act like you care. I can tell when you're being insincere.

So today in the mail I get a request for a donation from my favorite radio station WFMU. Apparently, this is because I bought a t-shirt from them a few weeks back, which I will wear this weekend when I go see The Dirtbombs. Since there's no radio stations in Detroit anymore, I have delusions that this will elevate me to some sort of favored status. In whose eyes? Plus, The Dirtbombs have played in their studios before, just like people used to do when we had WDET in Detroit, so of course they'll recognize me as one who is hip to the shit.

For those of you who won't be there, the picture at the top of the post is what will be on my chest. And as always I urge you to listen online at wfmu.org. You will get lifted.

Four Queens

Five out of 6 ain't bad.

Nothing Of Interest Here

From Update Central: The Teenagers are still on "repeat", but I've also gone back to Vampire Weekend. As for The Wombats, well they just kinda reminded me of everything else, but they're still ok. I got the feeling they were the british version of "every american band", if you get my drift. But they're quite young, so I'll give 'em another spin. What DID surprise me was The Cribs' "Men's Needs, Women's Needs, Whatever". Even though it's about six months old I just picked up on it after reading many positive reviews. That's how it happened for me with "Back To Black". See, I didn't like their 1st one, but this one's way loud, but still it's real catchy.

So a TV ad I saw thursday nite said YES Amy, or as I like to call her "Ol' Puke Face", WILL be at the grammys. But her visa was turned down, so maybe she'll be there by satellite or something. In a perfect world she wouldn't show up at all, but win every award she's up for. But she's gonna lose to that frikkin Umbrella song I think.

Fergie, Kanye, Rhianna, blah blah blah. "F" the grammys.

Wish I had something worthwhile to say. No I don't, not really.

Lent? It's all been SPENT!

Remember when I told you my likes & dislikes change like Michigan weather? Well Vampire Weekend have moved to the back burner. Now it's

THE TEENAGERS

who by the by are obviously by nature of their name NOT teenagers although they'd probably like you to think so. They hail from Paris, and their very droll vocals which sound simultaneously of French and/or German origin are set to an electro-eurobeat (natch). They make all these ... teenage references, or more accurately what they think teenagers say & think. For example (paraphrasing of course):

"What if Shannon Doherty stayed in 90210 & never met Alyssa Milano? If Ben Affleck didn't make movies would it be a better world? Seriously, you've watched 'Showgirls', like, 15 times. Are you really going to eat that pepperoni pizza? It looks so greasy. If you need a friend or someone to talk to, who cares, just buy our t-shirts and talk about us everywhere."

See? LOL!!! No, it's MORE than LOL - it's HYUK!

HYUK! HYUK! HYUK!

Let's see what next week brings. I've yet to absorb The Wombats, & I'm about to check out Lightspeed Champion.

So anyway, I spent a lot of time looking for the best live cam for Mardi Gras. It was depressing. It was all frat boys. All baseball caps askew & baggy cargo shorts at not-full mast. Like watching MTV Spring Break. I really think a truly diversified Mardi Gras is a thing of the past, now that younger folks have disposable cash. Or at least credit cards. New Orleans before lent is the new...what, Daytona?

Mardi Gras is probably like a lot of things - the best ones are in the past or formulated in your mind and have no relation to reality, just like Christmas and Las Vegas and The Teenagers idealized audience. F'rinstance, the Mardi Gras that lives in my head is drenched in voodoo & it's very edgy, with every open window & door oozing with the sounds of Professor Longhair, Ernie K-Doe, Chris Kenner, Earl King and Fats Domino. And half the people play squeezeboxes & speak french. Beignets, gumbo, king cakes & muffaletta sammiches for everyone!

That ain't real. But the food is probably available. But one can always dream.

Just like when I sit and dream of a nation united in Peace, like I hope to the highest heaven (?!) that whichever one gets the nod, Hilly or Rocky, that they pick the other one for a running mate, That would be the ultimate one-two punch. But no actual punching would take place. Maybe they could initiate PARTY GRAS somewhere in NOT New Orleans and that would draw all the youngsters out there wherever it is, and Mardi Gras would be restored to it's original grimy luster replete with Mama Roux, Marie Leveau, Goofy Dust and Gris-Gris.

Bon Temps Roulez, anyone?

Vampires, Jeeps & Nuns

First I wanna tell you about my favorite album of the moment, which could change in a week or so because things move quickly in my fickle world

VAMPIRE WEEKEND

They're a well-heeled quartet from somewhere in New York who play a blend of new-wavy tension-pop & cod-african/carribean rhythms (that's a lotta hyphens) and they're whiter than David Byrne & I useta think his middle name was mayonnaise. And by coincidence they were on Letterman last Friday! Quite bouncy & pleasant, so check them out quickly.

So, other stuff now:

I just got a new Jeep Liberty the other day. I used to have one a few years back. It was Red red and I called it "Li'l Miss Fireball" but not everyone knew that because wouldn't it seem kinda childish for a grown man to name his car? Who am I , Archie Andrews? This one's black and has added street cred due to the stealth-like manner in which it moves down the road. I don't know if I'll name this one, because I have mixed feelings about it, as follows:

When I took dellivery of the Jeep it had the following: no power doors, no cruise control and no floor mats. All of which my van had, which I turned in to get the Jeep. I kinda already miss that van, which people laughed at and called me "soccer mom" and I was actually gonna get a soccer ball sticker for the back window except I didn't know where to get one, like do I have to go to a school bookstore or something, but mostly because I couldn't be arsed, and also I slapped a WDET sticker on the back, funny thing 'bout that because I never donated money to them and for certain that's the case today because they suck rat embryos but back when they were the rat's ass (not it's eggs) I got this sticker for free because I was somewhere that they also were and they were giving them stickers away like sugar cubes at The Fillmore (archaic reference) back when they actually had supporters at events I would attend and nowadays that certainly is not the case. That's why I am so big on WFMU because they have a similar spirit only moreso wacky. WDET was never wacky. Oftentimes they were up their own sphincter, but where else were you gonna hear Sun Ra?

What was I saying?

Oh yeah, the car thing. Since I took delivery I've seen what seems like hundreds of black Liberties. I wonder if they have floor mats? My wife's new vehicle does, though. I had a van, she had a Liberty; now SHE has a van and I, as you know by now, have a Liberty. Her van has everything except anal bead extractors but then again I was only in the thing for a few minutes during the test drive so who really knows. Anyway I won't need that service until Spring.

Something else that happened this weekend was that I saw what is probably the worst, which may mean at least to me the best, Elvis movie ever made (I don't subscribe to the "Elvis-Is-King" philosophy; I am a member of the church of "Little Richard Is My Co-pilot"): Change Of Habit, co-starring - as nuns - Mary Tyler Moore (marginally believable but heavily flaky), Barbara McNair (who looks like a female impersonator - a very bad female impersonator, kinda like a female impersonator playing the role of a woman trying to look butch), and someone else who's pretty anonymous except she's the one nun who wants to get her freak on. Elvis plays a doctor in the inner city (I'm stifling the guffaws while simultaneously thinking of Dr. Nick) and not a single word uttered by anyone is believable as anything anyone would ever say in a conversation. Elvis' hair is really, really bad - he's trying to wear it in a faux-Beatle style but it's not quite long enough and it just naturally wants to roll back into the waterfall so it's flipped at the sides which would look great if he was wearing a ripped t-shirt or some other Blank Generation gear. But it's Elvis, so it's just plain stupid. Best roles went to two brothers who play hardass silent-type pseudo-Panthers, shades included. I'm not saying seek it out, but if you happen to fall upon it (I found it for free "on demand") waste some time on it. Your life will change.

Anything else you wanna know? Yeah, I didn't think so.

(this posting is dedicated to Richard "R" Meltzer and Lester Bangs, whose written works inspired a whole lot more than this blog)