Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Monday, February 27, 2006
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
For mp3 fun, go here http://www.electriccity.org/mp3page.html
These mp3's are not from the latest release however, if they are anything like the songs on "BTB", you will not be dissapointed.
Like Brian Wilson gently possessed with the roaming souls of both Ray Davies and Paul McCartney (neither dead), Below The Branches is lo-fi-piano-pounding-pop-goodness.
Not a bad cut on this disc. Sure it's early in the year, but I have yet to hear anything this good in a long while. That is until Thursday when I pick up the new Ray Davies . . . I'll let you know.
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Friday, February 17, 2006
It was the best of times, it was the best of times, as Dickens should have said. I was currently between engagements and had gotten that 'road trip' itch that I used to get quite frequently back then( then being somewhere in the early 80's). I had gone through my usual short list of cronies, but all of them were currently gainfully employed and could not go with. On an off chance, I called my favorite cousin Gary, AKA Junior, who lived in Wrentham Ma., to see if he could be persuaded. He was young and inexperienced, but showed great promise. I knew it a sound call on my part. He was, however, holding a job at the time. Fortunately, for the both of us, it was a most unsavory job at a Chicken Farm, probably shovelling chicken stuff or something. It took suprisingly little cajoling to get him to give his 2 minutes notice, and away we went. The destination: New Orleans, the Big Easy. Why? Because it was there. Oh, yeah, and Bourbon Street.
There was one problem. Junior was not, shall we say, of age to partake of adult beverages yet. Not yet 21, he was very nervous the whole trip that he would not get past first base on the festive streets of the French Quarter. He needn't have worried, as I constantly assured him all the way down. It was the Big Easy; what could possibly happen. Well, what happened was that he did, of course get served, time and time again, and I have vague memories of us calling anyone and everyone whos numbers we could remember, at 3am, out in front of some place called Frank's Jazz Alley. I also seem to remember Junior barfing into an empty bag of Doritos, having the decency, even in his inebriated state, not to mess up the cab of my truck.
Of course, my memories were much more clear than Gary's. He spent the next day, curtains pulled tightly, hunkered down in the hotel room, whilst I cruised the streets, sightseeing. Oh, he got served alright. Be careful what you wish for.
So anyway, we're on the round trip back home, via the pan-handle of Florida, of course. Gary had been bugging me the whole time to let him drive a bit. He was an excellent driver, I'm sure, but I just liked driving. But he didn't relent, so about half way through this very rural and placid stretch of the pan-handle, I takes the passenger seat. Not 15 minutes in, the truck sputters, backfires and coasts to thre side of the road, dead. We look at each other... 'see I told you I should have driven'. Anyway, it urns out the timing belt shit the bed, which I guess Ford F-150's are known for. How do I know this? Well, after we hitch-hike to the nearest exit (Ponce-de-Leon, Fla., I shit you not), a guy from the nearest 'Ga-rog', named 'Bobo' ( again, I shit you not), tows us back with his 78 Pinto (I am NOT making this up). I start hearing the music from Deliverence in my head ('y'sure got a purty mouf '). Oh, by the way, Ponce-de-Leon is a dry town. Did I mention that? We spend the night, Hootch free, holed up in the hotel, drinkin' Mr. Pibb and munchin' on Moon Pies ( okay that part I made up), waiting for Bobo to see how much money I had in my account so he could charge me accordingly.
Well, it all worked out in the end. We made it back safely and with some cash left over to boot. Junior's Mom, my Aunt Louise, eventually forgave me, and ol' Waycool never did make it back to the chicken ranch.
To think we could have been workin'.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Saturday, February 11, 2006
Friday, February 10, 2006
He had a delicious soliloquey that had to be cut for time constraints. Look for it in heavy rotation next week on channel 2.
As per our conversation earlier today . . I have begun work on "Pavlovia" hopefully the compilation that dares to answer all the unanswered questions.
Which version of "Nocturnal Emotions" was the best?
What really went down at the Etna Dixmont Tragedy?
Was Flood Aid the begining of the end?
Who went through more drummers . . . Taap or P-Dogs?
This will not be finished by Feb 14th (the anniversary) but hopefully soon. Perhaps if Spot is on hand, he can help out with some of the missing stuff. Maybe we should get a list of things that we want to track down . . . .? I'll try to make a list of what I've got.
Thursday, February 09, 2006
I roam these streets like a Micro-chip
You want to catch me, hit me on the hip
Got unlimited ring tones
Texting friends I ain't ever met
Unlimited weekends and after 8
You get my voice-mail
Don't get irate
I roam these streets, cell to my ear
Thin as a razor
Got 'Black-Eyed-Peas' on demand
Download movies with a touch of my hand
So get off my Dizzle
Don't give me the Shizzle
Got me a 'Friends and Family' plan
I'm a Cowboy
On a steel horse I ride
Dead or Alive
I'm a Piltdown Man
With unlimited bars
Got my own Nexxus
Got the power
Find my Fossil 'neath a Cellular tower.
A few thoughts on last night's ceremony. Very few, considering I saw very little of it.
The Gorillaz thingy was lame.
Lady M, while still holding her title as The Worlds Highest Paid Lap Dancer looked grrrrrrrrreat! I'd even pay!
Paul M, sounded pretty good live for an old guy . . . but Paul, if you have to tell us you're going to rock . . . we know that you are not going to rock.
What's with the blink-and-you-missed-it tributes?? Was Bowie even there?
Green Day is to punk as Kenny G is to jazz.
Mariah creeps me out.
Kanye creeps me out
Gwen is still hot even if she is preggers.
How to Dismantle did not deserve Album O' The Year
Kelly Clarkson actually deserved her award.
The White Stripes won for best "alternative" album . . . ALTERNATIVE? . . . alternative to what? sucky rock?
great album, but the award should have gone to "Funeral" by Arcade Fire me and Dave Bowie's album of the year last year.
I love Elvis Costello!
Super Bowl XL half-time
show last week(AP photo)
For those of you who bet on the big Super Bowl last week, here are the latest Vegas results:
"Over-Under" Results for Seattle, Pittsburg and the Rolling Stones
1. # times 'mic'd up' Jerome Bettis or Mick Jagger were 'bleeped' during event= 0/2
2. #times Seahawks coachMike Holmgrin or Charlie Watts cracked a smile= 0/0
3. #Pittsburg turnovers or #times Mick Jagger petulantly put his hands on hips= 3/42
4. #Seahawk interceptions or #times Keith made that pouty "holy-shit,
I just got startled out of a deep sleep" look on his face= 1/76
5. #Matt Hasselback rushing touchdowns or # Stones dressed like a Pirate= 0/2
6. #Pittsburg sacks or # "gravy draggers" on Mick's Triceps= 2/2
7. Total yards for both teams or cumulative age of Stones= 848/946
8. How old I am or how old I felt watching the Stones half-time show= 42/142
P.S. Put a head band and a Pirate costume on your Great-Grandad and see if HE doesn't look like Keith. Heh!? Rock on!
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Monday, February 06, 2006
It was the summer of 1984, and I was travelling with my crazy uncle Frank, working construction with the world reknowned ZVI Contractors Rolling Thunder Revue. We were currently remodelling a Young Women's Clothing Store and staying in Bethesda Maryland, south of DC. Frank was the Job Super and I was his favorite'Niece', as he so fondly referred to me, so we di have a bit of 'flexibility', shall we say, about how much work we were expected to asccomplish on any given day. Frequently, after hours, or just as frequently during work hours, we were wont to take the company van and road trip down the shores of the Delaware Bay and check out the boat marinas, looking for a Vintage 1955 Criscraft 40" with teakwood deck and twin engines, or, you know, something like that we couldn't afford .
On this particularly fine afternoon (made even finer by the fact that everyone else was hard at work, we were not, and we had ice-cold swill in the styrofoam cooler between the seats), we happened to pass a Catholic Church in Falls Church Va. Out in the front parking lot, was a 'MINT' 1967 Volkswagon Beetle for sale. The owner of said buggy was Father Augustine O'Reilly, of the church, who I think wanted $300 for it. We 'jewed' him down, so to speak, to a most reasonable 250 bucks. The facts that it was mostly rusted out and ,technically, didn't run, were academic in our decision to buy. The way Frank figured it, if you couldn't trust a Father Augustine O'Reilly, who could you trust (after all, he only took it to work once a week) . And, as usual, Frank was right.
So, we dragged it back to the job-site, and the VW, became our after hours project. As the ZVI crew used to say about their work, "a little putty, a little paint, make 'er look like what she ain't"(actually they used to also say that about most of their dates, too) . And they were right. With a little free sheet metal from the Tin-knockers and a few cans of roof pitch, the rusted out bottom was a s good as it was in the 'Summer of Love'. After another $50 or so worth of tech screws, Black Label and duct tape, we had ourselves a fine example of German engineering. It was most enjoable to drive, easy peasy on gas, and a bonafide' CHICK-MO-BILE!
Thanks Frank. To think I could have been working.
2. "That's not a Pig, that's a Duck. I was Talkin' to the Duck".
3. "Four Balls? Walk Proudly Carl".
4. "So then the Sheep says, 'Daaaaad'!".
5. "When you've got a Pig THAT good, you eat him Real Slow".
Any of these ring a bell?
Saturday, February 04, 2006
Two muffins are sitting in the oven, side by side. One muffin turns to the other and says, "sure is hot in here, huh"? The other muffin looks at him and says, "Holy shit, a talking muffin"!
Ha?! See what I mean? Here have some pot, you will.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Dear Bigfoot Chester,
I'm a 23 year old guy who's recently married to a wonderful gal whom we'll call, "Morgan". She's really terrific and all my family and friends think she is the tops. While we were dating and when we were engaged, things were great. It was dancing and dinner every night, long talks on the telephone and romance, romance,romance. But lately, it seems, since we've become husband and wife, some of the luster has gone from the Rose, if you get my meaning. Bigfoot, you're a married guy. Tell me. I need to know. What is your secret to keeping the spark alive in a marriage. I would appreciate your advice. I'm a big fan.
Wilted in Wilton
I'll tell you the same damn thing my old man told me on the day of my wedding, many long and excruciating years ago. He took me aside and said, "Bigfoot, lil' buddy. The secret to a successful marriage is this: take the time, to make the time, at least TWO times a week, to go out and do something really special. Go out to a movie, go out dancing, go out for drinks, take a long walk on the beach. It's this time that keeps a marriage alive". He said, "I usually go on Fridays and your Mom usually goes on Tuesdays".
Using this advice, I have enjoyed occasional marital bliss for over 38 years. Keep your chin up Wilted. And remember, you're noyt in it to win it, just survive. Like the mythical Syssaphys, doomed for eternity to push a rock up a hill only to see it roll right back down, you KNOW what's going to happen when you get to the top anyways. Just relax and enjoy pushing the rock.
Keep your fly wet.
(Bigfoot Chster is neither a Marital Counselor or Recreatioanal Guide[ missed it by thiiiiiis much]. For a complete list of Bigfoot's marital tips, go to www.whenmywifereadsthismyassisgrass.com .
Wednesday, February 01, 2006